My head says no but my legs are open to the possibilities.
Michael Faudet (via michaelfaudet)

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
d e v o n
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

tannertan36

Kiana Khansmith

shark vs the universe
Claire Keane

if i look back, i am lost
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Sade Olutola
Monterey Bay Aquarium
One Nice Bug Per Day
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
AnasAbdin
we're not kids anymore.
taylor price

titsay
DEAR READER
todays bird

⁂

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@lucid-dan
My head says no but my legs are open to the possibilities.
Michael Faudet (via michaelfaudet)
Helene Stanley dancing for Marc Davis and other animators for Sleeping Beauty. See the video here.
Oh I love this so much!!
this is everything
The human race has only one really effective weapon and that is laughter.
Mark Twain (via purplebuddhaproject)
Love is the only freedom in the world because it so elevates the spirit that the laws of humanity and the phenomena of nature do not alter its course.
Kahlil Gibran (via purplebuddhaproject)
“You changed the scenery, but not the fucking situation.”
Girl, Interrupted (1999) dir. James Mangold
More quotes here
I HAVE NEVER HIT REBLOG SO FAST IN MY LIFE.
I JUST BROKE MY MOUSE
for a second i had to think about which type of mouse you were talking about
BUT HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED YOU AN ACTUAL LIVING CREATURE FOR TUMBLR
I’m so mad because this worked
Stolen Dance by Milky Chance
I hope this makes it into dictionaries.
Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? ‘She’s a cool girl.’ Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are - above all - hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind — I’m the Cool Girl. Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time, Cool Girl offended me. I used to see men — friends, coworkers, strangers — giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: ‘You are not dating a woman; you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them.’ I’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: ‘The bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much — no one loves chili dogs that much!’ And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be; they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. Oh, and if you’re not a Cool Girl, I beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the Cool Girl. It may be a slightly different version — maybe he’s a vegetarian, so Cool Girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so Cool Girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (How do you know you’re not Cool Girl? Because he says things like: ‘I like strong women.’ If he says that to you, he will - at some point - fuck someone else. Because ‘I like strong women’ is code for ‘I hate strong women.’)
Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl (via insanity-and-vanity)
Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? ‘She’s a cool girl.’ Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are - above all - hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind — I’m the Cool Girl. Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time, Cool Girl offended me. I used to see men — friends, coworkers, strangers — giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: ‘You are not dating a woman; you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them.’ I’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: ‘The bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much — no one loves chili dogs that much!’ And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be; they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. Oh, and if you’re not a Cool Girl, I beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the Cool Girl. It may be a slightly different version — maybe he’s a vegetarian, so Cool Girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so Cool Girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (How do you know you’re not Cool Girl? Because he says things like: ‘I like strong women.’ If he says that to you, he will - at some point - fuck someone else. Because ‘I like strong women’ is code for ‘I hate strong women.’)
Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl (via insanity-and-vanity)
When I think of my wife, I always think of the back of her head. I picture cracking her lovely skull, unspooling her brain, trying to get answers. The primal questions of a marriage…
When I think of my wife, I always think of the back of her head. I picture cracking her lovely skull, unspooling her brain, trying to get answers. The primal questions of a marriage…