Mike Driver
Monterey Bay Aquarium
taylor price
Peter Solarz

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if i look back, i am lost

Kaledo Art

oozey mess

pixel skylines
d e v o n

Discoholic 🪩
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
sheepfilms

Love Begins
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
RMH
Show & Tell
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@sakigamist
hopping offline -- i've got a let's play to watch and i should be asleep since i've got another nine hour shift tomorrow anyway. sooo, if you're interested in plotting, just give this post a like (or shoot me an ask, whatever floats your boat) and i'll get a hold of you asap!
on the bright side if toto ever tries to chow down on you hannibal lecter style, it's p much his way of complimenting you -- just in more of a backhanded, flesh eating kind of way
everyone’s always like “omg coffee shop aus pls” and i’m just like omg:
— Havelock Ellis
"Streets On Fire" - Lupe Fiasco
he sees the world in blurs and faded colors as he moves, espresso hues glazed over with an indifference that didn't quite manage to meet the cheshire grin lingering along thin lips.
an incessant chant of ‘you're free’ reverberates throughout his mind and his heart thuds euphorically against his ribcage, its force so great that he swears that it will burst forth from his chest at any moment —— & how nice his own heart must have looked within the palm of his alabaster hand.
perhaps he had been injected with some breed of insanity, he may have mused had he ever been in his right mind; he hadn't.
but, alas, he was tragically human ( or at least he had been once upon a time in some sense or another ), so frail; so beautiful as a china doll and equally as fragile, and with the slightest tap he was sure to break —— &, in fact, his mind had already been shattered long... long ago.
no... it had been stolen from him by the cruelest, the most savage, of thieves, not that he would ever have had the misfortune of knowing then; nor of watching as his mind is - was - played like a marionette as the puppeteer so gleefully tugged on each and every one of the strings.
oh, what a cautionary tale that he has become. though, in this tale, there is no moral to be found. there never was. there never will be.
and now his mind falls blank, the impish curvature of his lips dissipating in an instant and fingertips of restlessness tracing down his prominent spine, and abruptly his foot-falls come to a halt. 'where am i?' the question is fleeting and an air of indifference toward the situation at hand could be felt teetering along the precipice of his mind as dark orbs would absorb the cityscape before him; unanswered questions swirling about endlessly and without any semblance of care to be found. unfamiliar —— this place is... "where am i...?" the words roll from off his tongue with an innocuous air; though the tone is lighter, more childish, than appearances must has suggested —— & far less menacing as well.
My poor mother begged for a sheep but raised a wolf.
Michelle K., Four Rhythms. (via michellekpoems)
I don’t care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual.
Plath, Sylvia. The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath. (via wordsnquotes)