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⚡ 👉🏻👉🏻👉🏻 INFORMATION AVAILABLE CLICK HERE 👈🏻👈🏻👈🏻
It's not embarrassing for a tall girl to date a much shorter guy, y'all are just subscribing to ridiculous societal standards that mean absolutely nothing.
i finally can say i can draw kwite more comfortably, every time i draw him i feel like he’s stiff n shit but this- im proud of.
also he’s wearing socks cause i don’t want to draw toes
kwite has a fan-art chat on discord and i want to post it there but i get nervous,,, yikes
Популярные блоги на тему "short-man"
i got jealousy issues & commitment issues riddle me that and give me a line of cocaine
ethan // 21 // perth i play music in a number of projects i don't consume animal products
HE'S SO CUTE !!!!Join the discord: message me and I'll send you a link
Remy B Peepers he/him - 26 - Gay AF 18+ I post/reblog nsfw stuff ocassionally.
What we should talk about: HRT access, queer self-defense, the failure of respectability politics, building up community resources
What we talk about: Is it valid to be bi? Is it valid to be pan? Is it valid to be queer? Is it valid to be kinky? Is it valid to be ace? Is it valid to be trans? Is it valid to be non-binary? Is it valid t
man y’all remember when the avengers movie came out and everyone headcanoned that all the avengers would live together in the tower and had all these cute posts about various fun ways they could interact and then the movies literally never had any of them even be friends
Art Tumblr & Instagram → @breadpaw
Tony/24/M/He, Him/Mr. McOddly Proportioned/ "Your fists of evil are about to meet my steel wall of niceness"-Tung Fu Rue (Fatal Fury Special)/ "I was sober all morning, till I woke up this afternoon"-Johnny Hobo
if you had the 2006 guinness book of world records do you remember this guy with the record for the most straws stuffed in a mouth? why is he dressed like he’s in the matrix? slay.
fives-tiny-man-shorts-blog.tumblr.com
[If you want me to source something and you know where it’s from please feel free to tell me!]
account between Austin and Jack (kinda jacks never on he says he’s on hiatus for 2 years).
#Austin or #Jack will be on every post so u can tell us apart.
Dave: WE’VE BEEN MARRIED FOR 4 YEARS KLAUS
Dave: You look like my first husband.
Diego: Dig one moat around your house and everyone’s all “you’re being unreasonable” and “where did you get the alligators”
This is what I want you to read( so important):
Who is to tell who that what one person experiences is real or not.
After all, we are spiritual beings.
A place for me to share some of the wonderful Gmod and Source Filmmaker videos I find. Feel free to submit your own personal favorites as well! Please submit non-TF2 films as well!
Does anyone want to keep updated on this project?
rest-in-the-bed-of-my-bones-blog.tumblr.com
why test on animals when there r people who r rude to waiters
i love that charles dickens got paid by the word. like i cant even be mad when he’s boring and long-winded bc i would do xactly the same??? i wouldnt use contractions or colours at all. want to say the word red? too bad. we r now only using “the colour of freshly-spilled blood on snow; the hue of the horizon when the sun sets over the deserts of sub-saharan Africa” BOOM guess who can afford 2 eat now: me and my boi dickens
I don’t know, man. I really don’t know. I decided to pre-game, which was either my first mistake or first great decision of the night. I dug myself into a fuzzy hole of stimulation before I even got outside, but it’s cheaper that way. It’s way cheaper that way. That’s why all the kids are doing it these days.
I’m with a friend, but not a friend that I’m completely myself around. I’m surrounded by familiar faces, but not friendly ones. I feel good, but not quite happy. So I let the noise block out any doubts and I add more alcohol for good measure. I just keep going. I buy us beers. He returns the favor with shots. Should I buy myself another? We go upstairs, and I try to grab one there. More familiar faces – none of which I want to see with their mouths opening and closing in my direction. I stand at the bar and assume that the tenders are ignoring my hand waving a fresh twenty on purpose.
The women flock to my friend as he leans on the bar. I can’t be jealous, right? I don’t want them. He doesn’t even want them. But hell if I don’t want them to want me. Who doesn’t? Fuck. Now a girl from New Zealand is hitting on him and he’s giving her a fake number. I loaf, pretend I’m trying to find people I know in the crowd, but I’m really just trying to look like I have something to do, to prove to strangers that I have a reason to be there. And even with all this light and noise, I’m still too focused on what everyone else thinks I’m thinking. They don’t care about my thoughts as much as I don’t care about theirs. The strobe lighting only allows people to move at a few frames per second, and I see them as animatronic. But still, they move with such feral sexuality – they can’t just be programmed to move the way they do. It must come deep from inside. So they grind and they peacock with as many other people as possible, hoping that one will stick. Some of them are even gay. It’s unfortunate, I think, that sometimes you can’t see that some cute guy is also gay until he’s clearly with someone else. How did they find each other? I think. Why aren’t they finding me?
We move downstairs, still not seeing anyone that we care enough about to hang with. We smoke one outside, we return inside, we debate. Do we want to attempt to wade into the crowded sea of stuttering dancers, or do we want to return upstairs, where we were already bored just moments ago? Maybe the people will move elsewhere. Maybe they’ll be new. Maybe we’ll lower our standards.
We meet some of his friends – Germans. Man, Germans are fucking crazy. They insult Americans for being fat, and then they buy 20 cheeseburgers and 20 McChickens for us all. Oh shit, now we’re at McDonalds? The nice lady at the counter calls us assholes, but they get over it. I pick up our trash for a second to prove that I’m not. I don’t know if I care about helping her, I just don’t want her to think I’m an asshole too.
Sly slowly slid his rough tongue across his paws and arms as his pets returned home. Though these animals were far larger than Sly, he had them in his grips: every day, they brought him food, and every other day, they disposed of his shit quickly and discretely. But this time, they were carrying something odd.
Sly could see through the object, but the other side was distorted and large. The light that bent around and through the object acted as a massive magnifying glass, albeit a magnifying glass that carried hundreds of small, blue pebbles, and a couple of measly, leafy-greens that jutted up out of them. Once his pets set the glass down, they sprinkled something from a bag on top, and migrated to their den for a bit of midday mating.
Sly found that, upon closer inspection, (with his whiskers flesh with the glass,) a small orange creature was floating around inside. The thing moved erratically – perfectly still at once, then moving forward with a couple of quick jerks until it decided to stop once more. These motions awakened something deep within Sly. He wanted nothing but to consume the thing, to devour the thing, to digest the thing until it no longer existed and Sly was all the stronger because of it. The hairs on his neck began to stick up with a static quality, but he held back – Sly knew better than to pounce the thing head on.
Sly slowly sat up, until he became far taller than the glass, and he looked down. Fear shot through him. That clear stuff, the stuff that his pets occasionally attempted to bathe him with, was surrounding his meal. If he were to swipe at the creature, he would feel the terrible wetness that he so tactfully avoided as often as possible – he kept himself clean, damn it, and he didn’t need his pets to help him stay that way.
Sly circled the glass and racked his mind with ideas. First, he thought about pushing the glass over the edge of the desk and onto the floor, making it shatter and dispersing the water away from himself – but he knew better. Though his pets were at his beck and call, their beastly qualities came out when things broke. He then thought about simply swiping through the top of the glass, where it was only the liquid and air in his way, but he just couldn’t do it – he valued his life too much to willfully interact with the substance.
“I want today to go well, Dominic,” said Sean, parked outside of a massive ranch-style home. The two were weary from the drive. “I don’t want a repeat of last Thanksgiving.”
“Dominic? Who in the hell is Dominic? He sounds like a home wrecker, if you ask me.”
“Come on, Dom. You know I’m not kidding,” said Sean. He had to force his mouth to remain still, and fought the urge to smile. This was not a time to make light. Even Dom, with all of his good humor and intent, couldn’t crack Sean’s steadfast efforts to maintain an air of seriousness – not until the day was said and done. “You’ve got to support me on this.”
“Stop worrying already. Angie loves me. And Hank, well...”
“My dad hates you,” said Sean as he took off his seat belt.
fuckyeahmansweaters-blog.tumblr.com
sakebombs-cigarettes-blog.tumblr.com
The (ongoing) story of a man trying to find a way to understand what the hell happened to him when he wakes up. Interspersed with other short stories.
A man who truly lived for the things he lived for.
He would go everywhere, to the ends of the earth and back, to live for the things he lived for.
Through rocky roads, up tallest mountains, under deepest caves, he would go.
By foot, cars, buses, trains, planes, bicycles, horseback, he would go.
I saw him, standing there. Rifle in hand, clad in a uniform of blue and gold, with a rank on his shoulders. Amidst the chaos of the situation unfolding in front of my eyes, I could definitely recognize the man standing across the street. The beret he was wearing did little to obscure his one facial feature I have ingrained in my mind through years of looking at it - his blinded left eye. He was standing with his fellow soldiers, in their disciplined military positions - ready for action, ready to fire at the slightest hostile move we make. In the real-time background of my thoughts, the tension between two groups started to escalate, further exacerbating an already extremely white-knuckled situation. I tried to get his attention, tried to catch his gaze, even if just for a second. I wanted him to remember who I was. I wanted him to realize that he was fighting for all the wrong reasons, fighting under false pretenses, under the influence of our evil government propaganda. I wanted him to know that we could be the ones to stop all this senseless violence, to carry out the leading roles in diminishing this tension between our warring sides by peaceful negotiation. And of all things, I wanted him to remember who he used to be. The war cries of my men - my army, echoed through the empty streets - littered with debris from the previous days of rioting. There were shards of shattered glass and and torn, half-burnt posters of evil man Abhisit laid out in a mess on the road. The blood of the men who fell throughout this campaign lined the street, forming a subtle - but significant - border that seperated our army from theirs. Both of us were exhausted, tired of fighting, and prayed fervently that this would be over soon. But the conviction that filled both our men's hearts - that we were fighting for a greater good, for the future of our countrymen - pushed us further, even when we were all dangerously close to our breaking points. Warriors, even to our last dying breaths. I turned around and scanned the faces of our soldiers. They were all shouting, chanting and holding up banners calling for the oust of our government - the corrupt, money-hungry swines led by the scum Abhisit. There were a couple of our men carrying black cargo bags - containing our home made weapons - or whatever was left of it after the events across the past few days - discreetly under cover in strategic spots in our ranks. After countless hours waiting for our demonstration to come to a conclusion or at least, for the military men on the other side to understand what we were fighting for, our patience wore thin. Our cries started to crescendo, an orchestraic unison of voices - of which each and every one was filled with pure, raw anger and disappointment. We could almost hear the ground shaking with every sound our collective bodies made, as if the ghosts of our ancestors buried under these streets had risen from their slumber to join our fight. As much as they were a part of our country's past, they definitely deserved to play a part in the shape of our future - and we welcomed them, arms wide open, with that notion. Our battle cries grew, louder, louder, Louder, until finally - the chanting stopped. A deafening silence filled the aural void as fear - that we thought had been replaced with camaraderie - quickly crawled back to our hearts. The long silence reminded me of how I used to spend the twilight hours watching the sun set in my old kampong thlom village with my brother - a brother who promised to protect me from everything that could hurt a village kid, even if he was one(albeit a little older) himself. From bullies who stole my home-packed rice and fried fish lunch - to much older teenage gangsters who preyed on us for money everytime we rode into the neighboring town on our father's old moped, he would be my hero. Forcing me to stand at safe corners where we could make a quick exit if the situation got messy, I quickly got used to being the getaway driver(or technically, moped rider) when we had such confrontations with such people. Many a time he came back to me with blood on his shirt, or a black eye, and he would always disappear for the night when that happened - I would always tell my father that he went to the village market to help out with his friend's fish store - and I'd wake up to find him looking significantly better the next morning. Until after one day, when our parents caught him near the riverbank with in his bloodied, post-fistfight state. They brought him home and an argument broke out between my brother and my father - I was too young to realize they were fighting because of the troubles I got myself into. Their failing father-son relationship was made worse with that conflict and regret has haunted me throughout the years after that night when my brother ran away from the village after the fight with our father. I never saw him again since then.
Now he was right there, in front of me. The lionhearted hero who used to save me from the evils of a village kid's world was now a soldier. A lionhearted hero still, but only this time, defending the interests of a politically empowered brainwasher, a government which seeked to destroy the livelihood of us, the village folk. I looked straight into his eyes. I had wanted to just drop my machete and cross the debris-filled street, and kneel down in front of the man across to ask for his forgiveness. On behalf of my father, on behalf of my mother, we were all filled with regret knowing that we made him become the person I was looking at today.
I started to lower my weapon. Hesitation wasn't an option, with the notion that both of us could die in the gunfire that may ensue sooner or later. I didn't take my eyes off his. Suddenly he stared into mine. I was taken aback and lowered my gaze for a split second. I looked up again, only to find that he had actually - recognized his younger brother. The brother who had been searching for him all this while since the night he disappeared.
I dropped my machete. As the blade hit the ground, the sound of gunfire accompanied the clink of the metal on the asphalt. Like slow motion, the crowds on both sides braced up for the final clash. The soldiers raised their guns and took aim at us. There was no turning back after this moment, and we had to fight it out till the death. The riot had started, and there was no way I could save us now.
I've seen her around, that old lady.
In fact, I've seen her so much that I know her daily routine by heart - of course, from years of watching her through my window every day when I get ready for work.
On Mondays through Fridays she gets up at 6 in the morning, which is pretty much the same time as I do. When I look out my window to breathe in some fresh morning air, I see her already at her balcony, watering and talking to her plants - paying special attention to her awfully humongous cactus, or carnegia gigantea or summat like that - as my really-but-not-really 'Intelligentsia' mate Morris put it when he came over one morning before work to get his, um, I'll put it in a way that's simple enough to understand - pants. He left them at my place after one of my annual house parties - how he forgot all about his nether regions and made his way back home (completely smashed out of his mind of course) could only probably be coherently explained after a pint or two, maybe a spliff as well if the alcohol wasn't enough to help digest the whole stupidity of the story.
What I do after that - I wash up, put on my favourite Elvis Costello record (Shamelessly, I wear a pair of glasses just like him even without an optician's prescription) and get dressed. I always have this strange feeling that while I'm blasting and singing to "welcome to the working week" every Monday morning, she's listening in to my music in her small apartment across from mine, jiving lively in spite of her ancient frame to one of the (in my honest opinion) best songs to defeat the start-of-week blues.
ask-the-small-family-blog.tumblr.com
Bonjour! I am Matthew and this is my...pet?? Ivan.hes very small....but hes cute too??Anyway your allowed to ask me and him questions!!
Gemini: holding hands and doing the lil’ comforty thing with the fingers playing with each other + being shy
Cancer: intense making out + lip nibbles
Leo: back massages + back of the neck massges/kisses
Libra: Stomach kisses + stomach hickeys
☀ What side of the bed do you sleep on?
The nonsensical ramblings of a lunatic mind.
“The 👏 nuclear 👏 force 👏 of 👏 the 👏 DPRK 👏 is 👏the 👏 treasured 👏 sword 👏 of 👏 justice 👏 and 👏 the 👏 most 👏 reliable 👏 war 👏 deterrence 👏 to 👏 defend 👏 the 👏 socialist 👏 motherland 👏 and 👏 the 👏 life 👏 of 👏 its 👏 people 👏"
I absolutely fucking hate to see the elderly being mistreated and abused. It's disgusting as hell. Seeing shit like that makes me angry and disappointed in humanity. What has our world become when it's okay to abuse elderly people?
It’s disgusting and these people who claim to care abo
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