mybrainispermanentlyfried

[mybrainispermanentlyfried]

If the Brits have one thing, it’s definitely soccer chants

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internet safety we were taught as kids: don't share ANY personal information with ANYONE EVER the british government: you don't want to give these random third parties your photo or driving licence showing your name, birthday, address and signature? are you perhaps a nonce?

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yikes, unfollowing now. was a huge fan of his opera. had no idea he kidnapped the lead soprano and threatened to kill her fiancé if she didn’t marry him

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books i’ve read in 2024: the seven deaths of evelyn hardcastle by stuart turton

"Nothing like a mask to reveal somebody's true nature."

picture credits: x x x x x x x x

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u ever wonder if ur associated with a character forever to someone else. like. when ur scrolling ur dash and u see a url u don't recognize and after going to their blog ur like ohhh this is the Character person. yeah ok i remember now.

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@mybrainispermanentlyfried LUNCH WITH MY LITTLE SKIN LAMP??!?!?!?! Hell yeah xx

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insane how many people just have these incredible artists in their families who get no recognition outside of crocheting circles because this art form is devalued for its association with women

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was that the bite of ‘87???

cross stitch of markiplier and fnaf by me!!

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i hate when kink blogs do this. do they think it makes it hotter. i feel like i'm playing a mystery vn with this kinda shit

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But suddenly his daddy was there, looking at him in mortal agony, and a sorrow so great that Danny’s heart flamed within his chest. The mouth drew down in a quivering bow. “Doc,” Jack Torrance said. “Run away. Quick. And remember how much I love you.” “No,” Danny said. “Oh Danny, for God’s sake—” “No,” Danny said. He took one of his father’s bloody hands and kissed it. “It’s almost over.”

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Ooooooh, Jonathan Crane + Lachryma by Ghost! (totally not trying to spread my agenda of forcing everyone i know to listen to Ghost hahahaha)

Ghost - Lachryma

Tears were his first memory.

The events leading up to the hazy recollection were scattered at best, little more than fragments. He recalled desperate pleading. Promises to be a better boy. To be a good boy. But it had all fallen on deaf ears and the sting of those tears, pain-filled and earnest as he sobbed alone in the darkness of the church, had nurtured the very spark of memory within him.

He shed a tear for his lecturing career when not one of his colleagues would stand for him and he was forced to pack up his life into cardboard boxes and leave. The hot prickle of despair at least had the decency to wait until he was inside his car, shame and uncertainty making him feel like that miserable child once more. A pathetic babe trapped in the body of a man who had once again been abandoned and left to rot by everything he knew.

Now, no longer the man but the monster who lurked in the shadows to spark terror in the hearts of others, he couldn't recall the last time he had shed tears. His victims were the ones to hold that catharsis and they revelled in it as each of them begged for a mercy that would never come.

Time stole many things without care for the consequence but the spring of his upset, dried out for many years now, was not something he wished to see returned. His days of sorrow were long wasted on a woman perhaps more monstrous than he could ever lay claim to be and a society which held no love for him nor his life's work.

No one would weep for him when the inevitable came and he would afford the world that very same luxury as he continued to carve a cruel path through it.

[mybrainispermanentlyfried]

Fleeting early morning moment

shootingstills.co.uk

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proud dog showing off ALL FOUR of his paws at once

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Sweet mother, I can't long for girls--Arachne has crushed me with desire for fiber crafts

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the world yearns for a production of don giovanni where leporellos catalogue aria is a cobbled-together powerpoint presentation

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i just invented a cathedral rose window granny square pattern and i feel insane now

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i am so easily impressed by trees