Sweet Seals For You, Always
Cosmic Funnies

blake kathryn

gracie abrams
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
taylor price

Kiana Khansmith
The Bowery Presents
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

No title available
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
occasionally subtle
Fai_Ryy
hello vonnie
Cosimo Galluzzi

@theartofmadeline
YOU ARE THE REASON
$LAYYYTER
Noah Kahan

seen from Honduras
seen from Iraq

seen from Germany

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

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

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

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from India
seen from Brazil

seen from United Kingdom
@gr33n-hearted
baby's first everything ever
(x)
The Witches Rout (Lo Stregozzo) - Agostino Veneziano, and/or Marcantonio Raimondi, c. 1524-1532
remember to carry a deep and unnameable shame within you at all times
Rilakkuma ,Fujisawa
need him to be sooo weird about me
via
lambs in dingle, ireland
Barbara Takenaga, Lines to the Center II, 2014, Acrylic on linen, 45 x 54 inches
my thighs rn
when your coffee tastes good today and you start thinking god has forgiven you
A/B no Gekijou[A/Bの劇場]
aka LE THÉÂTRE DE A/B
hi do u mind if i want u extremely bad
During all this time I dreamt about you only once, and even then, very fleetingly. When I woke up, I couldn’t remember the whole dream, but I felt there was something very lovely in it; like when you sometimes feel, without opening your eyes, that it is sunny outside—and then unexpectedly later, near evening, thinking again about the dream, I suddenly understood that the lovely, exciting thing that was hiding in it was you, your face, your very movement—flashing through my dream and making of it something sunny, precious, immortal. I want to tell you that every minute of my day is like a coin with you on the other side, and that if I hadn’t remembered you every minute, my very features would have changed: another nose, different hair, another me, so that simply no one would have recognized me.
12 July 1926 Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov