Tom Harlow by Mark Liddell
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@theartofmadeline

roma★
todays bird

Discoholic 🪩

Origami Around
Misplaced Lens Cap
occasionally subtle

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blake kathryn

Kaledo Art
ojovivo
One Nice Bug Per Day

#extradirty
Peter Solarz
AnasAbdin
DEAR READER

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

oozey mess
wallacepolsom
seen from United States
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seen from Malaysia

seen from Jamaica

seen from Russia

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seen from Malaysia
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@luxmjya
Tom Harlow by Mark Liddell
New move on pole I’m working on! #boylesque
i don’t think people understand that people can ‘love’ you and not actually love you
like my grandmother ‘loved’ me, but she also was always trying to change me. she tried to take me away from my (catholic bisexual) mother. she made me wear dresses when i was there. she always tried to get me to go to church and was always asking me if i was dating a boy yet
i spent years feeling guilty that i wasn’t what she wanted me to be until my mom told me one day “she never bothered to know the real you”
and it’s true. any time i tried to show her something about myself, even cook for her, it would be dismissed, and a replacement would be offered. even northern food was somehow a sin.
she loved me what she thought i should be, she never loved me.
bc people who love you, they love you for all the stuff that makes you you. they never consider that it makes you inconvenient.
“It was true: the other mother loved her. But she loved Coraline as a miser loves money, or a dragon loves its gold.“
Loving someone like a prized possession is a very different thing from loving someone like a person you care about.
MC Debra moving into the frame in front of people is comedic genius.
my great-grandfather had to leave italy in the 20′s because he hit a fascist with a tuba, so if you think I am going to take this sitting down you are going to have to catch these hands and also this tuba
Glory, glory hallelujah
Hit a fascist with a tuba
Help me finish these lyrics, tumblr
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Hit a fascist with a tuba!
Run like hell and learn to scuba!
Oh Freedom, give him hell!
Oh, I took my ass to DC when that bastard won the vote
With no dignity nor decency nor kindness, not one mote
Well, to make my feelings known to him, my instrument I tote
With plans to raise some hell!
(Chorus)
Well, I found him in the Oval Office pissing on the rug
And he looked at me and sneered as if I were some kind of bug
So I swung my tuba right into his condescending mug
And rang it like a bell.
(Chorus)
The Secret Service showed up ‘bout three seconds after that
They surrounded me and drew their guns and told me to get flat
But like fuck was I about to hit that slimy piss-soaked mat
Or see a prison cell.
(Chorus)
I gripped my dented tuba and I put it to my lips
And I found a certain fingering with questing fingertips
Drew a breath and played the Brown Note and gave Trump the runs and drips
His pants began to smell.
(Chorus)
Well, he stood there looking stupid with his trucker hat askew
With his face all turning purple and the guards all turning blue
As they pinched and held their noses and he shat into his shoe
I turned and ran like hell.
(Chorus)
I made it to the White House walls, climbed over and was free
Stashed the tuba in the branches of the National Christmas tree
Jumped into the slow Potomac and swam southward towards the sea
My plan was going swell.
(Chorus)
Stashed underneath the water was a scuba tank and fins
I sucked air in from the former, strapped the latter to my shins
Ashore they look to see me, but their quarry sinks and grins
Look, Ma, no diving bell!
(Chorus)
I got to shore and changed my clothes and safely came back home
With Trump still fiddling like he’s Emperor of burning Rome
Maybe next I’ll play the bassoon ‘neath the Capitol’s big dome
You bastards, go to Hell!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Hit a fascist with a tuba!
Run like hell and learn to scuba!
Oh Freedom, give him hell!
(Disclaimer: Author does not condone the hitting of Presidents with tubas. You’ll dent something that deserves better, and you’ll go to jail, which is a waste of you.)
“Sum up a pokemon with Spongebob quote”.
Funny and also absolutely true story; earlier this year when I was looking at a 50/50 chance of cancer and was scheduled to get my thyroid yanked out and replaced with meds for the rest of my life, the single most disheartening thing anyone said to me was “it’ll be okay, you’ll just never get to lead a post apocalyptic biker gang when society falls apart”
I was so deeply upset by that prospect that I made the decision on the operating table to only get the half of my thyroid with the tumour removed, at the risk of a cancer diagnosis and a second surgery to get the rest out. As it turned out, I didn’t have cancer, my half thyroid picked up the slack, I don’t need meds, and the doctor congratulated me on my winning gamble.
Anyway that’s how my completely irrational fear of being unfit to lead a border clan of motorcycle bandits in the apocalypse quantifiably improved my real life health.
Talked about Overwatch with friends during the last weekend, and how, as a person who haven’t yet played overwatch, my impression over the characters is completely based on fanart I’ve seen, and.. well, let’s say reaper takes the cake aka me seeing his belt(?) as garter every. fucking. time.
alright it’s late but here’s the awful twilight crossover I told myself i had to to for the final crossover day of @rosemarymonth
a comic about critique