Sorrow waited, sorrow won.

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Doug Jones
sheepfilms
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

Product Placement
Show & Tell
Cosmic Funnies

gracie abrams
Misplaced Lens Cap

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cherry valley forever

#extradirty
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
The Bowery Presents

Andulka

blake kathryn
KIROKAZE
The Stonewall Inn
NASA
Interview Vampire Daily
seen from United States
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seen from Singapore
seen from Iraq
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seen from Singapore

seen from Singapore
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seen from United States
seen from Vietnam

seen from United States
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seen from Indonesia
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seen from Congo - Brazzaville
@dewdropdewdrop
Sorrow waited, sorrow won.
Fluorite
Who needs makeup remover when you have Crying, a safe and effective way to remove your eye makeup with mild natural saline solution
You don’t know true frustration until you’ve dug several times through a pile of black clothing, in order to find a SPECIFIC article of black clothing.
In the original pilot for Bob’s Burgers, Mintz’s character was a teenage boy. That fundamental difference aside, Daniel Belcher and Tina Belcher are the same character—but looking back, that choice had enormous implications for the show, because a TV audience has never seen a girl growing up like this. She’s nothing like an archetypal teen, but she’s also unmistakably one. She daydreams about kissing her crushes—and also about touching the butts of all the cute boys in her class. She fantasizes about being a prettier, bolder version of herself, who talks politics with adults and is an object of affection among the guys at Wagstaff School. Her efforts in this direction lead her to hide in the dairy section of a grocery store in season three’s “Lindapendent Woman,” waiting for a handsome boy to stop by. In season four’s “Turkey In A Can,” she shows up to Thanksgiving dinner wearing baggy pantyhose and too-big high heels. Puberty and dating have a typical arc on shows about teenage girls, but Tina’s arc on Bob’s Burgers is something else entirely. It’s gross. It’s messy. It occasionally encourages threesomes. And it’s hilarious, but the show is careful to never make Tina the butt of any jokes. (Tina touching butts, however, is okay.) If the viewer is laughing, it’s most likely with Tina—or at the very least, with the people who love her.
"Bob’s Burgers’ Tina makes the series a must-watch" (via boyhands)
I think home is where you don’t have to live in fear anymore
(via aloofshahbanou)
Date idea: petting cats
Crystallized coyote skull… death succumbing to beauty and renewal.
From the series Crystal Skulls, Skin, and Bones
http://www.longhairbearhandmade.com
I have lived in my body for years and still need maps and lights to find my way to how I feel.
Michelle K., Body of Maps (via kaagura)
Don’t tell me to love my body without doing anything to challenge everything around us that actively hates it. Don’t tell me to love my body when you have never loved or wanted to love a fat body.
Asam / IGF (via itgetsfatter)
princess on the streets. also a princess in the sheets. dont touch me im royalty.
Candy Chang - Sidewalk Psychiatry (2008)
Inspired by pensive pedestrians and the therapeutic benefits of walking, Sidewalk Psychiatry encourages self-evaluation by posing critical questions stenciled along NYC streets.
…I can’t think of any greater happiness than to be with you all the time, without interruption, endlessly, even though I feel that here in this world there’s no undisturbed place for our love, neither in the village nor anywhere else; and I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more.
Franz Kafka, The Castle (via thestolencaryatid)
Girls and women of the world, could we stop apologizing for wanting and eating food? Because this is one of the most ridiculous things that we do collectively as lady-people, and not only does it annoy the shit out of me personally, but it is also INCREDIBLY SAD. Could we stop feeling “guilty” for wanting an effing brownie? Or a plate of fries? Could we stop actively seeking permission from our friends to go ahead and “be bad” and order the cheesecake? Could we all just go ahead and order whatever it is that we feel like eating, instead of saying, “Oh, I feel like a pig, you guys are just getting salads”? Because—now I know this will come as a shock—WOMEN EAT. We get hungry. We get hungry for pizzas and Double Stuf Oreos and nachos and ice cream and giant French-toast breakfasts, and you know what? WE DON’T NEED TO FEEL BAD ABOUT THAT.
an excerpt from this beautiful article that everyone should read (x)
Kammererite from Turkey
Kammererite