OK KINGS
seen from Netherlands
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Netherlands
seen from Japan
seen from Malaysia

seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from T1

seen from United States

seen from Russia

seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Chile
seen from United Kingdom

seen from India
seen from United States
OK KINGS
i’m laughing.
Have I ever told Tumblr the story about my mother's experience with my dash?
It actually happens quite often. Varies a little from time to time, but.
About half the time I'm on my laptop I'm sitting with my back to the room, so that anyone who happens by can glance over and see what's on it. I live in the living room, my younger brother has learned I will verbally flay him if he deliberately looks, and I have a very chill mother. From time to time I'll even beckon her over to look at something funny or something that I think will appeal to her.
A lot of the time she does the typical parent thing and sort of stands there talking to you for a few more minutes even though you're done sharing whatever it was you wanted to share.
As time has passed, I've stopped caring. I will continue to scroll down my dash, or refresh it, or talk to my friends, or whatever. She has learned that if she stays, she will often see things she doesn't want to. I figure she's a grown woman and she can do whatever she wants. Plus it's funny when she recoils, occasionally.
But very recently she's started to stay and like. Crouch by my side and just look at my dash.
I love my stepfather, he's really, really cool, he's a geek, he's in a lot of fandoms, he fanboys with me, despite that he's in his fifties. He's fucking awesome. I have frequently encouraged him to get a Tumblr, in total seriousness. I know people who he would get on with who I could have him follow.
Just today mother was laughing at my dash and making me stop to look at things, I finally refused her and, jokingly, told her that if she wanted to look at the stuff she needed to get her own.
From across the room, as she's leaving, I hear laughter, and a dreaded response:
"Maybe I will!"
What have I done.
Wait. I was so fucking hip. What happened?