No title available
todays bird
official daine visual archive

Origami Around
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Three Goblin Art
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Not today Justin

oozey mess
YOU ARE THE REASON
Sade Olutola
macklin celebrini has autism
cherry valley forever
ojovivo
Jules of Nature
RMH
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

JVL

Janaina Medeiros

seen from China

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Australia

seen from Singapore
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
@divorce-fromreality
— Traci Brimhall, “Chthonic Lullaby”, from Come the Slumberless To the Land of Nod
Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente
Inspired by a Tumblr post I can’t find :-/
I don't know why you follow me, but I hope you have a nice day
🐸 GIRLboss Follow
buy HIM lingerie and fuck HIM in it
10,893 notes
𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸, 𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟷 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹
“Sometimes not telling people anything is a good thing.”
— Jason Myers
- Beau Taplin
“I think people spend too much time staring into screens and not enough time drinking wine, tongue kissing, and dancing under the moon.”
— Rachel Wolchin
oh yeah this would do numbers* on tumblr
*2 likes from beloved mutuals
There's an unspoken agreement as they climb out of bed, light just beginning to return to the sky, and quietly gather their things. The soft pelt of rain is the only meaningful break in the silence. The bed was warm and there was comfort wrapped in his arms. The harsh temperature of January has seeped through the windows, they feel it through their body and down their spine as they quickly dress, fighting the desire to retreat under the covers. The form still in bed has fallen back asleep, breathing evenly, it appears sleep was more important than questioning the loss of them beside him. They stand there for a moment simply watching, now fully dressed with a packed bag hanging off their shoulder. Their head is empty, but the pang in their chest is more coherent than any thoughts on the situation could be anyways. With one last look and a shallow sigh, they silently head into the hallway and down to the bathroom. It's too early for harsh lights. Using the gray glow of morning, they grab the toothbrush kept here for them, taking in their reflection. Pronounced dark circles, hair unkempt and a faded shade of green, glasses sitting on the end of their nose. Their irises remain a bold blue, offering life where there isn't any. When finished, they silently pad back down the hallway. Passing his door they long again to return to bed, but continue to the kitchen. Outside the rain has settled into a thick mist. They stare at the kettle and contemplate making coffee, but a look at the oven clock lets them know there's no time. There never is.
the month we met | Zach MacDonald
Backwards, Warsan Shire
“You always admire what you really don’t understand.”
— Blaise Pascal