A Collection of seasonal art of all mediums and genres, and from artists of all ages and talents from well seasoned experts to beginners.
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June 8
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--
My scanner is a form of self-mutilation!!!
Clubs:
~xMistahJx~Seme-Mello~JokerCrane-Fans~Near-haters=OrganizationMilitary
We got another one, and the rest of...THAT.
Want some?
--
Hobnobs are the SEX of biscuits.
When...in doubt...splice...your sentences. Then randomly dash for the door.
--
My scanner is a form of self-mutilation!!!
Clubs:
~xMistahJx~Seme-Mello~JokerCrane-Fans~Near-haters=OrganizationMilitary
*takes a bite out of Cullen's other leg*
MMMMMmmmm. So sweet and juicy!
To take the words of the (old) Joker: "I'm glad you're dead!"
(not you obviouslY!)
--
Hobnobs are the SEX of biscuits.
When...in doubt...splice...your sentences. Then randomly dash for the door.
(sry for loudness)
He's so... stupid. Argh! So wannabe-perfect-prince like.
So yay for punks rippin his legs.
--
"Come to the edge."
"We can't. We're afraid."
"Come to the edge."
"We can't. We will fall!"
"Come to the edge."
And they came.
And he pushed them.
And they flew.
--Guillaume Apollinaire, 1880-1918
(French poet/philospher)
I LIKE LOUD!
He is. Yay indeed!
--
Hobnobs are the SEX of biscuits.
When...in doubt...splice...your sentences. Then randomly dash for the door.
--
"Come to the edge."
"We can't. We're afraid."
"Come to the edge."
"We can't. We will fall!"
"Come to the edge."
And they came.
And he pushed them.
And they flew.
--Guillaume Apollinaire, 1880-1918
(French poet/philospher)
Ride.
--
Crop circles are Chuck Norris' way of telling the world that sometimes corn needs to lie down.
Gape.
Ride.
Not as good as Gape Orn though!
--
Hobnobs are the SEX of biscuits.
When...in doubt...splice...your sentences. Then randomly dash for the door.
--
Hobnobs are the SEX of biscuits.
When...in doubt...splice...your sentences. Then randomly dash for the door.
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