The Stonewall Inn

Discoholic đŞŠ

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Fai_Ryy

Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
Not today Justin

if i look back, i am lost
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
Claire Keane
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Aqua Utopiaď˝ćľˇăŽĺşă§č¨ćśăç´Ąă

bliss lane

tannertan36
Show & Tell
taylor price

titsay
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Keni
Monterey Bay Aquarium

seen from TĂźrkiye
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@sparksandardvarks
Good Guy
The library was quiet.
A church's Sunday between the smell of off-touched volumes.
She reads, focused. A finger and thumb playing with the end of a stray hair.
Footsteps and the light metallic jingle of keys against a carabeener.
'Security?' Maybe it was time to be silently hushed out. She turned and faced the sound, ready to motion her exit and returns.
But there were his eyes.
Planets could have formed and been destroyed in the long processing-moment of her realization.
'Him.'
She fell into those eyes. Time compressed and she turned back into that 19 year-old girl again. All at once a blip and an eternity.
Every controlled thought, every secured feeling let loose in her mind. Her body. She searched his face. Can he see the torrent beneath? Her craving, her obsession, her wounds from all those years ago.
He recognized her, but his expression indecipherable. He hesitated in his step. She stood. Putting her hand out to shake his. 'Idiot.'
Immediatley her mind threw the spectral of her emotion at him. All she wanted was to embrace him. Lock lips. Feel him so deeply and fully, where no words were needed. To relive that night so many years ago, and actually make it to his bed, instead of ending it outside his door.
She fought to retain her body and expression to cordial rememberance. To slowly, cooly release a polite greeting. Hopefully veiling lust, love and hurt with familiar, yet subtle, surprise.
A small glance in his eyes.
He saw it, he heard it beneath her fragile masks.
But what to make of it?
They exchanged greetings and vague small talk. But just below the surface sizing-up and picking at false nonchalance.
He didn't hesitate.
"We should grab a coffee. Catch up."
The last coffee, turned into a beer and the beer turned into unavoidable chemistry. That's when they had tried the friend thing. That didn't last.
"Yeah, totally."
"Are you doing anything after this?" He motioned to the opened book on the table.
Her thought and voice merged, "No."
'Idiot,' she thought.
She felt a small wince, hoping he didn't see it as he returned his eyes to hers. No longer veiled. He smiled, something tender beneathe.
'Don't do this to me' she thought. But she couldn't.... couldn't....couldn't help it.
'Please' she thought, unable to hold the thought from clearly asking him with her eyes.
He smiled, and cocked his head ever so slightly.
'Fuck.'
Home with you - FKA Twigs
This horse is a great reminder that our generation did not invent shitposting, it merely adapted it to another form
@bunjywunjy
Natalie Ciccoricco on Instagram
http://station.tumblr.com/ via weheartit
Steven Brooks
Charing Cross Girl, Photo by Wolf Suschitzky, 1937
Anton Robert Leinweber.
more mapcrunch but this time i donât pay attention to what colour things actually are at all
Ivan Marchuk (Ukranian, b.1936)
Young Decadent, Ramon Casas
what a fucking mood
me after i do literally one thing
Jakob Nieweg (NL 1877 - 1955)â¨Snow in the Netherlands (1929)â¨Oil on canvas
Hannes Bok (1914-1964), âThe Dreadful Bunniesâ, âWeird Talesâ, Vol. 35, #4, 1940 Source
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