Virginia Woolf, from her novel titled "The Waves," originally published in 1931
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hello vonnie
sheepfilms

shark vs the universe

ellievsbear

Product Placement
taylor price

blake kathryn
🪼
The Bowery Presents
d e v o n
No title available
almost home

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Monterey Bay Aquarium

titsay
noise dept.
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
seen from Brazil
seen from Türkiye

seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Guatemala
seen from Mexico
seen from Vietnam

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Saudi Arabia
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 Suriname
@graspofrainbow
Virginia Woolf, from her novel titled "The Waves," originally published in 1931
Janet Fitch, from her novel titled "White Oleander," originally published in 1999
brianna pastor
not doomed by the narrative but certainly disciplined
put in timeout by the narrative
dommed by the narrative
i can't post anything
this isn't a hellsite it's a hellhome
It's fun being queer and weird and unconventional until you remember you live in a society
It's because I've been alone always?
I don’t want chaos. I want calm. I want laughter in the kitchen. Late nights where we don’t rush. Consistency. Loyalty. I choose you. Every day. Not loud. Not messy. Just solid. Real.
I want a sadist to love. I want to give my tears, my screams, and my suffering. I want them to crave it—Maybe even be a little bit embarrassed about how good it makes them feel when they see my bruises the next morning. Because I’m embarrassed about how much I love the bruises they gave me too
I want to be their safe place. I never want them to worry that they’re a bad person for being in love with my pain. I want them to know that they’re just who I want, exactly as they are. They’re not a monster; they’re my desire
Grief, Theodor Kittelsen
i love my cozy, sweet spaces <3
it’s okay to say ‘this isn’t for me’ or ‘I’m not happy here’ and leave… you don’t have to wait for things to be really bad