San Diego | donaldmctim
Mike Driver

shark vs the universe

ellievsbear
taylor price
Monterey Bay Aquarium
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

Love Begins
RMH
KIROKAZE
Stranger Things
Xuebing Du
Three Goblin Art
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

JBB: An Artblog!
d e v o n

PR's Tumblrdome

★
noise dept.
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@bidragonsworld
San Diego | donaldmctim
autumn/winter affirmations:
7 p.m. is not late
your day is not over at 7 p.m.
you are allowed to leave your house after it gets dark
7 p.m. is so early
,,I don't even like spiders, that's why I wear those black leather gloves"
I love our flag means death so fucking much because they were like “here are two guys. They’re in love. One of them is a dilf who kills a man because he hurt his boyfriend and then immediately slams said boyfriend into the wall to make out with him. The other is a babygirl who wears a cat collar and builds blanket forts and asks his boyfriend to practice his ‘captain voice’ on him. Now guess which fucking one is which.”
Somebody SAAAAAAAAAVE MEEEEEEEEE
guy who takes dick pics with one of those old fashioned cameras that look like this
ruby sunday is the new marlene mckinnon fancast SPREAD THE WORD
”match my freak” match my melancholy. be nostalgic about a past you weren’t even that happy in. find something to be haunted about throughout every second of your day
Hozier concert in t-minus 2 hours 20 mins!
~~~
Rowan clawed at his chest, eyes opening as he tried to register the situation, only seeing black. He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath of air. He knew what was happening, what had happened. Rowan shook the lid of the casket, making it move, making him retreat his hands for a few seconds, before resuming his movements. Once the pine sheet was out of the way, he saw black. Again. He kicked his feet, and tried to swim up with his hands somehow, dirt and grime sticking in his fingernails, bending them. The blonde opened his eyes once again, feeling his knuckles brush over something like a rock, or a tomb, something hard. Rowan stopped moving, brightening at the thought of getting out, or finding a way to do so, albeit the improbability of it. He pushed whatever it was out of the way, staring at the light shining through the dry land. Rowan's head resurfaced, and he finally took a breath, a gasp of air - in hindsight, a bad idea, as the cemetery was normally fertilized with manure. He gagged at the smell, grabbing a tree trunk and heaving himself onto a patch of grass.
what the fuck is writing 😭
I just spent like two hours writing and I reread and it's??? So bad???
please please please please reblog if you’re a writer and have at some point felt like your writing is getting worse. I need to know if I’m the only one who’s struggling with these thoughts
sometimes healing is slow. laying in bed with my favourite stuffed toy from when i was 6 and couldn't live with out, listening to sparks by coldplay, crocheting stars to put up in my room, reading.
this song gives me so much peace whilst I'm doing my own things. like yes, I'm in the middle of writing or crocheting a gift and doing it fast because I have 2 hours left to give it to someone, but it's a PEACEFUL two hours. anyway obsessed.