Latest Posts by scrumptiousenemypeach - Page 5

The only thing worse than having a job is not having a job. And the only thing worse than not having a job is looking for a job. And the only thing worse than looking for a job is being 19 years old.

on wikipedia straight up "learning it". and by "learning it" i mean, lets just say.. information

on wikipedia straight up "learning it". and by "learning it" i mean, lets just say.. information

sometimes u are rly rly rly sad and then u dance in ur underwear to a song u used to love when you were fourteen and like. ok yeah hope will find me again. and u too

Sometimes I forget how great it was to work for Queen.

The 4 greatest guys of all time. Bri and Rog - well, you guys know how I feel....

And there was no better team...... and tour managers like Stickells don't do it anymore.

I still can't even look at a bottle of ouzo (aniseed vodka).

photographer Neal Preston

tumblr is so intimate like… i do not act like this around people i know…

gay primate call that a chimpansy

Corporate needs you to find the difference between this picture and this picture

we need a cuteness aggression equivalent term for when you see art of your favorite character you like so much that you sincerely cannot think of anything to put in the tags that isnt "im going to start biting off my own fingers"

i mean he really couldn't have been clearer

lowkey all the leaves are brown and the sky is grey

"they should've let peter tork sing" you are so right. few truer words have been said. however I'm going to be very brave and say they also should've let davy play instruments

call me easily amused but i still think it's so funny to go "who said that" after saying something wildly horny

“they were flirting with you” and how was i supposed to know such a thing when everyone speaks in codes and puzzles

i remember being taught by my butch lesbian neighbor how to figure out if a button-down shirt fits properly, and her femme wife teaching me how to tie a tie. it was in my dining room that we used as a makeshift nursery for my sister. the walls were blood red, and the floors and ceiling were dark. the whole world felt like it was suffocating you in that room, much like life felt for me at the time. i was fifteen years old, and it had been seven months since my mother had last spoken to me. my father was drinking. i was failing my classes partially because my brain couldnt stop projecting old home movies onto the backs of my eyelids and i couldnt stay present and partially to see if anyone would notice.  no one did.  no one but my neighbors.

they invited us over for dinner. the butch always greeted us while the femme finished dinner and we took off our shoes and one would take our coats and the butch would clap her hand on my shoulder, and the femme would touch my elbow gently while she took out my chair. they fed us, we played board games, they talked openly about being gay. they held hands across the dining table, and twirled their wedding rings, neither seeming to notice they were doing it. watching them methodically work, hosting this beautiful dinner, moving together like two pieces of an intricate puzzle, like weaving together yarn and hemp, like gears, like one soul split evenly between two bodies–

i had never seen love like that. i had never met women like them. women who wore athletic sandals in november. women who wore sundresses with denim and cowboy boots and called her wife “sonnyboy,” whose wife was always quite put together, button-down buttoned to the top, tie straight (with the constant help of her wife), hair short & cropped to the scalp all the way round. women who both did the dishes. 

i didn’t know love like that was an option. i had only been shown angry, volatile love. i didn’t know i could be a woman like that. or rather, i didn’t know i could be loved as that kind of a woman. i had been taught that women like that are lonely. they’re ugly. but i watched her. her crisp leather jacket, her darkwash, baggy jeans on summer days that she folded once over her brown boots with the yellow shoelaces. she wasn’t ugly. i watched her, and i bought brown boots.

I love how most of Queen’s albums depict the band in some form and then there’s randomly just one of those black and white optical illusions, and it’s equally random friend the Microsoft Windows Logo

to dress like the rockstar or the groupie, that is the question.

paul: if we put the songs in a certain order we can weave a narrative thread

john, literally twirling his hair: haha and it's like we're lovers and in love and the songs are all about us and our love

fabfour on "maxwell's silver hammer", but draw as unseen ‘the beatles: get back’ interviews

i want one.

No fucking way I found my little rubber fetus

I'm at a :.|:; for words.

woah this character is so cool i wish they were covered in blood their whole body trembling with a look of absolute horror on their face as theyre struggling to breathe in panic

"we don't have girl talk, we have creature talk," my roommate Julia just said while rolling on the floor, "put that on your fucking tumblr, they'll love that shit"

Chappell Roan really was like "I won't endorse Harris because of the continuing genocide and the fact that the Democrats aren't protecting trans people. I am voting for Harris but won't endorse. You should expect more from your politicians and that's what I want before I endorse anyone" and got absolutely insane amounts of hatred and vitriol for that not only normal, but morally righteous take. And then because of aforementioned insane amounts of hate had to cancel shows due to mental health and then got MORE HATE. Like wow! Starting to think you don't want principled and authentic celebrities, don't care about women's feelings, and don't understand how mental illness affects people! It will entirely be entitled fans fault if she steps back forever from releasing music

"why is EVERY song about love" I'm begging you to dig just a tiny bit deeper, there's literally thousands of songs that aren't love songs. You don't even have to look for the most obscure underground artists ever, the fucking Beatles of all people have a song about a guy who kills people with a hammer