the opening riff to mr brightside could literally raise me from the dead
Sade Olutola
Not today Justin
Monterey Bay Aquarium
official daine visual archive
Noah Kahan

Andulka

ellievsbear
ojovivo
Game of Thrones Daily
sheepfilms
cherry valley forever
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

JVL
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
todays bird
will byers stan first human second

if i look back, i am lost
almost home
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
seen from United States
seen from United States

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

seen from T1

seen from Türkiye

seen from Italy

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from South Africa

seen from Côte d’Ivoire

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from France

seen from United States
@ifitwasmurdershewroteit
the opening riff to mr brightside could literally raise me from the dead
all y’all had to do was vote for hillary clinton
When a flower doesn’t bloom you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower.
broadcastings (via storments)
liv tyler as corey mason in empire records (1995)
Why use a printer? When you can use an ink cannon?
What. The. Fuck.
#this is so fantastically unnecessary
This is like….steampunk levels of excessively dramatic engineering and I love it.
https://instagram.com/p/BUK4FL5D1_S/
Hyper-Realistic Resin Sculptures of Dangling Korean Noodles
Artist Seung Yul Oh recreates common Korean noodle dishes, but with a spectacular twist. Using synthetic resin, a pair of chopsticks float 12-feet-high, with dangling noodles flowing all the way down into the bowl.
We kissed each other’s throats. We sucked each other’s breasts, and we left marks, and never spoke of it upstairs outdoors, in daylight, not once. We did it, and it was practicing, and slept, sprawled so our legs still locked or crossed, a hand still lost in someone’s hair … and we grew up and hardly mentioned who the first kiss really was – a girl like us, still sticky with moisturizer we’d shared in the bathroom. I want to write a song for that thick silence in the dark, and the first pure thrill of unreluctant desire, just before we’d made ourselves stop.
Marie Howe, “Practicing,” from What the Living Do: Poems (via lifeinpoetry)
Everything heals. Your body heals. Your heart heals. The mind heals. Wounds heal. Your soul repairs itself. Your happiness is always going to come back. Bad times don’t last.