Kto Zamalował Numer Telefonu, No Nie...

corniest thing I’ve ever made whatever

"if tumblr dies you can find me on bluesky" "if tumblr dies you can find me on Instagram" if tumblr dies you cannot find me. It's over. I'm free.

Longing. . . rusted. . .

[bonus]

"I am Mahmoud Al Sharif, married and have 3 children. My wife gave birth to a newborn baby on August ,12 ,2024. ‎‏We are from the Gaza Strip, which suffers from wars. I lived through 5 of these wars, and I lost my eyes and fingers hand , and my other eye was damaged. These were the previous wars until this 2023 war came and destroyed everything from my home and my workplace."

pls support this family to the best of your ability ❤️

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Mahmoud's Family Overcome War Tragedy, organized by Heyam Sharif

I am Mahmoud Al-Sharif, married and have 3 children, and my wife is about to g… Heyam Sharif needs your support for Help Mahmoud's Family Ov

please support 🍉❤️

He's aura farming

HEY IM ON A DATE....

mouthwashing opinions from a guy that hasn't played mouthwashing

Check Out This Incredible Turkish Agate (Not polished)

Photo: menekşe basturk/IG

In his dreams, Steve’s liver was between his teeth. There was a slit down his side, moonlight painting the white of his skin. The asset knew that his teeth were painted with blood, but the wound did not weep it. It stayed perfectly sealed inside of his beautiful body, unlike the organs he so carelessly ripped out with his jaw.

Steve was asleep, or unconscious, but he was not dead. Through his hot flesh the asset could feel his heartbeat, and it unsettled him. Another cut was made, and the asset pulled apart Steve’s ribs reverently. They came undone like yarn, slipping through flesh and metal fingers. It was too easy. The asset wrapped his metal hand around Steve’s heart. He knew not of the feeling of skin against beating tissue, and he had no intention of enlightening himself. Closing flesh around such an organ would be too close to love, and the asset felt only surrender.

He pulled, first gently and then harder, squeezing like the.. thing would come squishing through the cracks of his fingers like rotten fruit. His hand stayed clean. It was almost like sex, the push and pull, and finally the asset gave in and leaned his head down, closing his teeth around Steve’s heart and biting as hard as he could. The taste of iron and rot did not come, and the asset could not penetrate the hard muscle.

“I hate you.” The asset whispered into hot blood, hoping that the salvia that rolled down his chin would drop into the cavity that he had created, maim and taint Steve’s American Dream. “I don’t want this.”

Steve was whispering in his ear. He loved him. No, no, this was not love. This was weakness. This was surrender. Surely the rip of teeth should burn, have Steve screaming and begging the asset to stop. He wanted Steve to tell him to stop. Was he giving up?

He woke up panting, and hard, and on the living room floor. Gripping a loaded revolver in his right hand, he closed his eyes and bit his lip until it bled, imagining it was Steve’s blood in his mouth instead.