👑 @well-fuuckkk - Tumblr Blog

You know what, developing boys shouldn’t be seeing this either. I’ve seen plenty of grown men who barely know what real (ie not photoshopped) women look like, especially in swim suits. Which leads to girls getting teased about their body by their peers from a young age.

teaboot

“TERROR!!! HIDEOUS AND BAD!!!!” like you’re seeing an Eldritch abomination rising from the depths, when it’s just like… These are just average, everyday, run of the mill people. Just out having fun, minding their own business. Damn, these vultures

dreamadove

I want to be politically informed and educated but I also wanna have a good day and be in a good mood. Do you see my problem?

king-m-james

Yeah you cute but can I learn from you?

pitched-music

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To Build A Home + Rain

This is my favorite song to fall asleep to, so I thought I would add rain to it!

oolamwah

This song got me through so much shit.

hovita

Stop trying to teach him how to love. He doesn’t appreciate it, let him learn by his damn self🤷🏻‍♀️

fluffgawd

Pls teach your son how to apologize.

90svigilante-deactivated2018022

Pls teach your daughter to not measure her strength by how much pain she can endure

somethingaboutblacktop-blog

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the-ick-vault

wow

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Jolene (33 R.P.M) - click for .mp3

Unsure where this came from, if not the palsied hands of the good Lord himself.

Simple premise: Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” slipped from 45 to 33 rpm. Nothing more; no studio trickery, no trip hop drum breaks. The guitar lopes back in and around itself. The bass becomes elastic, hot rubber. The violin stabs become sustained cello lines. The backing choir’s split harmony rattles around, slinking ghostly into the corner. And most importantly, Parton’s once-frantic vocal is transformed from bubblegum country scrawl into something approximating field holler reverence.

An already perfect song made transcendental..

gin-and-disappointment

Well, this changes everything.

meanwhilepoetry

“If you leave her, make sure she’s not the love of your life. Otherwise you will meet her one day, on an autumn street, yellow leaves blowing about her, her arms full of her child and a happy marriage. And she will as you expectantly, her eyes gleaming, hoping you found happiness too, “What did you trade me for?” And you will not be able to answer. Because all you traded true love in for is empty hands and a half full life.”

— Nikita Gill