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Can't Stop the Madness

@wallfloweroftruth / wallfloweroftruth.tumblr.com

I will not settle; not this time.
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prokopetz

A tip for smutfic writers: the word “sizeable” will never be sexy in any context whatsoever.

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sinriel

“Idris Elba brought me roses and a sizeable homemade tiramisu.”

That is the sexiest sentence I have ever read.

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owlpellet

where do all these retailers get off calling pants that go up to the bellybutton “high-waisted”. no. fuck you. that’s called “mid-rise”. i want to wear a crop top and not have a single inch of belly showing. i want to be able to button my pants over my tits. are you listening? you’re not listening. i want my shirt to feel redundant. i want to feel like i’m being vored by my own pants. bad-end, six pages into the comic,

i cant believe this post has come back to me and also i’m just going to reiterate that the people saying ‘robbie rotten’ on this post are vibing with me 100x harder than any of the free-range organic stooges suggesting ‘overalls’

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setting boundaries with men

woman: mentions boundary/what she is comfortable with or uncomfortable with

man: sulks for 2 hours

woman: placates terrible man to get on good terms again, probably “making it up” to him somehow

man: genial once again, pointedly breaks boundary in “joking” manner

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I love how it’s “The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and MISTER Hyde” as in, yeah, they are basically two sides of the same person but only ONE has a doctorate

#unless your bitch ass second personality helped you write that thesis it is your fucking doctorate 

doctor banner and mr. hulk

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saber-chan

I spent all day doing sidequests instead of progressing the main story

I know you’re talking about a videogame but this is actually a really good metaphor for my life

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When I see folks didn’t like Deadpool, I’m like whatever. People like different things. I don’t even like Deadpool as a character but the movie was dope. Anyway, if you didn’t like it because it was short or it felt cheap and underdeveloped, that’s because it was. It was kinda set up to fail. They were given the greenlight the way an impatient parent says ‘fine you can have a dog but if it pisses on the rug, I’m gonna shoot it.’ They had less than a year to complete the movie and were given a budget of 58 million when the average superhero movie budget is between $150-250 million. AND Fox had the nerve to take money out of the budget so they had to write around the money. So Deadpool only having a few bullets? Budget. Forgetting his guns in the car so he can’t use them in the final fight? Budget. Only 2 low profile X-men around, one of which had never been seen before? Budget. And they still managed to make crazy amounts of money and break all kinds of records. I just feel like it’s worth knowing whether you like it or not because I ended up liking the movie a lot more after knowing what they were working against. Deadpool is like the indie movie of this superhero shit

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kumasenpai

Hey guys look at this damn film nerd

Look at this film nerd pointing out this massive SUCCESS STORY.

Bonus points for Deadpool making massive amounts of money despite being released in a fucking DEADZONE and being rated R. An R rating automatically limits the audience, so it was basically kneecapped from the get-go because fewer people would even be able to see it. Releasing the movie in fucking February was a damn near deliberate attempt on its life. February is where movies go to die, ok, even the cheesy date movies don’t always make it out alive. They didn’t want this movie made in the first place, greenlit it to stop the nagging, gave it a ridiculously tiny budget and then CUT IT DOWN EVEN MORE later on forcing several very hurried bits of rewriting (this is where a few extra digs at the studio were added, because they fucking deserved it), tried to argue against an R rating and when that failed, they tried to kill it by dumping it in the fucking release date graveyard. And it still made ridiculous amounts of money. That’s like winning the Kentucky Derby on a 3-legged donkey; “Massive success” is a bit of an understatement.

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littlemissgg

Which is a PERFECT story for Deadpool - the fucker no one wanted who dug in and survived. My hero.

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So I just went with my buddy while he got a rib tattoo, and they hurt like a lot, so he’s over there grimacing and being a huge manbaby so I just reach over and grab his hand so he can squeeze it because I’m a good person who helps others

And he’s clinging to my hand like it’s a life preserver and I’m being me and talking about nonsense like Grimace from the McDonalds commercials and how R2D2 is always ready to throw hands, and whatever, and the artist keeps glancing over at me and I’m like do your tattoo bro I’ve got my buddy handled

But then I realize he’s like, looking over because he can’t tell if he’s seeing something or not, and I glance down and I see my rainbow scalemail bracelet, and how I’m talking to my buddy all fondly and I’m like stroking his arm like he’s a wounded animal, and right as it clicks in my head the tattoo artist asks in his most nonchalant voice possible, like intentionally bland, I’m just talking about the weather haha what do you mean voice:

“So, are you guys close?”

And my gay ass is over to the side internally screaming because yeah, I am gay, but like this is just me being a good bro and my buddy is COMPLETELY OBLVIOUS TO WHAT IS HAPPENING BECAUSE HE’S A GARBAGE STRAIGHT PERSON AND HE SAYS

“Yeah of course, that’s why I asked him to come”

SO NOW THE TATTOO ARTIST THINKS HE’S RIGHT AND HE HAS A GAY COUPLE GETTING A TATTOO AND MY BUDDY HAS NO IDEA AND I’M AWKWARDLY SITTING HERE LIKE SHOULD I STOP HOLDING HIS HAND??? SHOULD I CORRECT THIS TATTOO ARTIST??? SHOULD I LET MY BUDDY KNOW??? MY GAY ASS DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO HANDLE BEING INCORRECTLY ACCUSED OF BEING GAY, WHAT DO YOU DO

So that tattoo artist is like “Cool man, that’s great. Good for you.”

So then my buddy is like can I get some water, and the guy comes back with one bottle of water and my buddy takes a drink and then hands it to me, and I’m like obviously he has to lay down and needs me to hold his water so I just hold it in my hand, but turns out he was offering me water, so he turns to me and is like Colton, drink some water, and I take a drink and my garbage lizard brain is like “You’re drink sharing in front of the tattoo artist, now he KNOWS he’s right”

So we’re talking about tattoos with the artist and I mention that I’m getting a tattoo in September and my buddy is like “Yeah I’m gonna go and hold HIS hand for that one haha” and the tattoo artist FUCKING SAYS “I mean, I should hope so”

I MEAN, I SHOULD HOPE SO

I MEAN, I SHOULD HOPE SO

AND NO ONE ACTUALLY BROUGHT IT UP. I KNEW WHAT THE TATTOO ARTIST WAS THINKING BUT DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING TO CORRECT HIM. NOW WHEN MY BUDDY GOES BACK AND GETS HIS NEXT TATTOO IN THE FUTURE AND I’M NOT THERE HE’S GOING TO GO “OH WHERE’S YOUR BOYFRIEND”

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pigmenting
“I mean it’s all a little strange. You sit in the same room you’ve been sitting in for 15 years, the same room you’ve cried in over stupid boys and stupid girls, the same room you laughed in, screamed in, sang in, danced in, vomited in, raged in, cried in, loved in, loved in. The room you locked yourself inside, the door and window you slammed over and over, hoping to bruise walls or break bones of glass. The room that’s held you like a loose embrace on all the nights you shook yourself to sleep. This room saw you writhe and sputter your way through your teenage years saw your chest bloom and saw blood stain your sheets saw tears lick themselves in salty trails down your cheeks, saw you naked in disgust, saw you in the moments you didn’t want to see yourself. And it’s weird, because you sit here now and run your fingers down its walls, like walking through battlefields after a war. You find the bullets, the damage, the echoes of combat. You knock your knuckles against the surface and hear the hurt, hear the rustle of weeds and vines that grew as you grew. And at the center of it all is your heart beating inside these walls, this room, ringing out like a peace call. This is how it ends, and this is how it all begins.”

Kelsey Danielle, “This is the Room That I Built”

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