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almost home
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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hello vonnie

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blake kathryn

Game Changer & Make Some Noise

ellievsbear
YOU ARE THE REASON
The Stonewall Inn
Cosmic Funnies
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Discoholic 🪩
todays bird
One Nice Bug Per Day

gracie abrams
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Today's Document
Fai_Ryy
seen from Colombia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Chile
seen from United States
seen from Thailand
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seen from Uzbekistan
seen from Singapore
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seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Japan
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seen from Malaysia
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seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany
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@tutieefrutiee
Paintings by Jeremy Miranda
Jeremy Miranda born 1980 in Newport, RI is a painter based in the Seacoast area of New Hampshire. His work ranges from loosely painted narratives on paper to more heavily worked, atmospheric compositions on canvas. He is interested in the landscape and how people control, fetishize and dwell with in it. Follow him on Instagram. Some of his most popular images are also available as prints. via
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posted by Margaret
because: awesome paintings and a library
I know that if women wish to escape the stigma of husband-seeking, they must act and look like marble or clay - cold, expressionless, bloodless; for every appearance of feeling, of joy, sorrow, friendliness, antipathy, admiration, disgust, are alike construed by the world into the attempt to hook a husband. Never mind! well-meaning women have their own consciences to comfort them after all. Do not, therefore, be too much afraid of showing yourself as you are, affectionate and good-heartened; do not too harshly repress sentiments and feelings excellent in themselves, because you fear that some puppy may fancy that you are letting them come out to fascinate him; do not condemn yourself to live only by halves, because if you showed too much animation some pragmatical thing in breeches might take it into his pate to imagine that you designed to dedicate your life to his inanity.
Charlotte Brontë writing to a friend who had been kind to a man she thought was married, only to have him fall in love with her because he thought she was flirting (letter dated April 2, 1845). (via feu-pale)
“some pragmatical thing in breeches might take it into his pate to imagine that you designed to dedicate your life to his inanity” amazing
(via pipistrellus)
“DO NOT CONDEMN YOURSELF TO LIVE ONLY BY HALVES” damn I love it.
(via evasuit)
And yet more evidence that men have been the same for centuries.
(via amuseoffyre)
Queen Charlotte!!!!
(via the-haven-of-fiction)
Dear god, she says it so clearly and so precisely. As true this exact minute as it was when she wrote it…
(via thingsididntknowwereerotic)
“Victorian Velociraptor with Violets.” Acrylic and liquid gold leaf on Rives BFK. Made by Adam Mazur.
“MOTHER WHY HASN’T THE DUKE CALLED AGAIN?”
Someone painted this.
Someone out there sat down and said that they were going to paint this.
Somebody planned this out and then did it.
What a time to be alive.
I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR THIS FUCKING THING FOR MONTHS
My fucking hero forever.
This will be the cutest video you will see today. My grandparents found baby sea turtles on their doorstep this morning so they released them one by one!
please turn on your volume omg
YOUR GRANDDAD SOUNDS LIKE POPEYE
me af
frappemako:
the-one-inside:
someottersmarryhedgehogs:
noiselesspatientspider:
iheartuniversecookies:
angelas-extrasandstuff:
I would like to share this beautiful passage with all of you, it’s long, but worth it. And I swear to god I didn’t alter any of this.
….
Her long hair, still wet from the shower, had been combed down her back in a wet swath. Hilda was sitting on the floor, her round, wet boobs still wet from the shower’s water. She dried off the water with a towel, which then became wet.
Hilda gasped when she saw a reflection in her bedroom mirror: through the slightly open door, she caught a glimpse of the chiseled abs and square jaw of the mysterious stranger who shared her cabin. She stood and spun around, her breasts swinging heavily with the momentum. She grabbed the door and flung it open, revealing shirtless Torolf (which is seriously his name) quivering with desire in the hallway.
Torolf was ashamed at being caught, but his shame made him even hotter – hotter for sex. He stepped into the room, and his bulging abs accidentally smushed into Hilda’s rich chest.
As Hilda’s buttermilk bosoms squished up against his granite abs, Torolf almost had a dick aneurysm. “Hilda,” Torolf murmured thickly, his throbbing meat wand pressing against Hilda’s warm thighs. “There is a secret I need to not tell you: You are my forbidden desire.”
Hilda had been waiting to hear these words. Her heart was lifted on golden wings and soared toward a radiant sun of perfect joy. She saw herself and Torolf happy together, bathed in the golden light of love. Her snooch got all warm, too.
“Torolf,” Hilda moaned, her lush teats straining with desire. “I need you.” Torolf, coarse abs pulsing softly in the moonlight, stood silently. Hilda looked at him expectantly. “Oh, sorry,” she added. “Torolf, I need you – sexually.”
At hearing those beautiful words, Torolf flexed his rough-hewn abs and Hilda found herself being guided to her soft bed by the sheer force of Torolf’s undulating midsection. She parted her thighs in anticipation, exposing the soft pink petals of her clunge.
Torolf entered her like she was a lottery. His engorged pecker pushed inside her and she felt fulfilled with sexual fulfillment.
Hilda clutched at the bedsheets with lust and ecstasy and her hands. Her spongy love mountains hurled to and fro with each pounding. Her body was like a beautiful flower that was opening and somebody was pushing their dick inside it.
Then Torolf moaned, arched his back, and suffered from dick Parkinson’s. He pumped in all of his hot pearlescent sperms as Hilda spasmed with so many orgasms!
The two lay still for a moment as the stinky scent of lovemaking billowed around the room. Hilda got out of bed, still shimmering with orgasm. She glowed with contentment, like a cat who ate the cream of the crop.
She walked across the room and picked up her towel, still wet with shower water. “Torolf,” she said softly, “there’s something I have to tell you…”
But her bed was empty.
Torolf was gone, escaped out the bedroom window. In the distance, Hilda heard the fading sound of galloping abs.
….
DICK
ANEURYSM
GALLOPING ABS
Who told this lady she could write?
Why did she ever stop?
IT GETS WORSE THE FURTHER IN THE PASSAGE YOU GO OMG
I will read this in Kermit the Frog’s voice
“Her body was like a beautiful flower that was opening and somebody was pushing their dick inside it” someone put that on a shirt for me
mii-makes-art
“entered her like she was a lottery”
I. Am. Dying.
I read this whole thing and now you have to read it also.
Oh my god this almost killed me
Writing at its finest..
@readbythestarlight
@halfblood-fiend Did I seriously just read ‘dick Parkinson’s’
GALLOPING ABS IS FOREVER MY FAVORITE THING.
This post fulfills me with fulfillment.
My wet eyes are wet from wet tears! This was painfully hilarious.
spongy love mountains.
@arctic-hands @thefingerfuckingfemalefury @secchiona @smolmoonlesbian
galloping abs what the fuck
someone please draw disembodied abs running with horse legs
@cryoverkiltmilk <3
IT’S BACK OH MY GOD
No eve that’s the front of a torso not the back
Are you ABS-olutely certainabout that
Be careful not to have a dick anuerysm when seeing this people! O.O
OHMYFUCKINGGOD
@kat8noghosts this should be your next Bad Erotica Liveblog :D
I’m just here for the sweet cen-torso action.
They are RARE AND NOBLE BEASTS
Is no one else going to mention that his abs were pressed against her boobs but his dick was on her thighs? How tf is he proportioned?
And we’ll allllllll sing together
And society we’ll be true….
And we’ll allllllll sing together
And Society waits for yooooouuuuuuu
Is this an actual book I’m dying America’s IQ is in the toilet because of this sort of quality HELP
These photos were taken a few seconds apart.
I’m glad to see Weird Al has not and will never change
star wars + veep
Happy #ObamaDay
(photos by pete souza, official white house photographer)
thank you.
kids kard dancing to oh nana (fun ver.)
me: *has no money* when i get money i’ll definitely buy that
me: *gets money* okay but do i really want that??
Baroque Obama (image via malkammarshal)
uh
this isn’t baroque
Then don’t fix it.
rococobama