I also forgot my title

mysortofstar:

does anyone actually think talking about the weather is bad small talk. i love talking about the weather. i would talk about the weather with my closest friend and im going to talk about it with YOU 🫵

(via aramanna)

doggirlbuck:

do you ever care about something really really hard for three seconds and then stop caring completely. like ok im fine now actually. dont know what came over me

(via aramanna)

awoo-ga:

Halloween couples costume idea: Girl in A Forbidden Plastic Dress and Dangerous Crow Boy whose Job it is to Destroy Plastic

(via duranbong)

chaoslord29:

(via duranbong)

Anonymous asked: what that tongue game like?

tsunamiwavesurfing:

weak. same goes for dick.

girl i got that good…that good for nothing

lea me alone

girldraki:

(via aramanna)

sn4ilweed:

(via duranbong)

tf2incorrectquotes:

(via coffeeandcommunism)

dogpuppy:

(via coffeeandcommunism)

thestuffedalligator:

“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”

The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and the kind of question she tried to avoid.

Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.

“You a cop?”

The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”

A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.

Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”

A nod.

“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”

A nod.

“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”

A tiny, miserable nod.

“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’

“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”

Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.

The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.

“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”

The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.

“I can work with that,” said the witch.

(via aramanna)

quasi-normalcy:

We have this interesting situation where we basically no longer have privacy nor the expectation of privacy, but we also don’t have community or meaningful connection with others, so we’re all simultaneously both completely exposed and absolutely alone, and please understand that when I say this situation is “interesting”, what I in fact mean is that it’s “nightmarish and I wish I could wake up”

(via zhanadvega)

wojit:

rongzhi:

English added by me :)

(via chillyfeetsteak)

segamascott:

(via chillyfeetsteak)

dogpuppy:

(via camembertlythere)

muntzerism-diggerism:

Must been some pretty good crispy pork

(via camembertlythere)