Mother Nature put me in the “overcast weather zone.”
What the fuck? You know, I was always so nice to the Earth: I recycle plastic water bottles, I turn the water off when I’m brushing my teeth, and I’ve never bulldozed a rainforest to build a parking lot. You’d think that Nature would ADORE me…
Supernatural in one gif
Supernatural Fandom in one gif
Doctor Who in one gif
Doctor Who Fandom in one gif
Sherlock in one gif
Sherlock Fandom in one gif
Harry Potter in one gif
Harry Potter Fandom in one gif
Merlin in one gif
Merlin Fandom in one gif
Tolkien in one gif
Tolkien Fandom in one gif
Avengers in one gif
Avengers Fandom in one gif
It should now be fairly obvious why everyone on tumblr is insane.
sometimes i find someone’s tumblr and i’m like “oh, you’re my soul mate. cool. you’re probably like 12 or something and live in tajikistan. nice to meet you.”
i’m convinced that some people are too awesome to be real. like, you’re made up. you’re totally made up.
for anyone wondering, i’m 21, i’m american, i’m a woman, i’m in college studying english and child/family studies, i watch a lot of tv but only good shows and never actually on a television, i speak english, some french, and very very very embarrassingly basic scottish gaelic, i weigh 140 pounds, am 5’3”, wear a size 6 but am losing weight. i like beer, bread, beer bread, salt and vinegar flavored just about anything, and i have two dogs and two cats - so yes, i’m the crazy animal lady.
Sex is not a goddamn performance. Sex should feel as natural as drinking water. It should not require confidence.
Sex should happen, because the moment is ripe. Ripening lips, ripening labia, ripening cock, ripening pupils, ripening state of being. Ripe and augmented and brimming. Your energy goes to your pumping heart, then to every external nerve, then to theirs, on fire.
You bask, roll, play in it. You sigh, moan, laugh. It’s not about being “good in bed.” It’s about being happy.
One should never worry if they’re doing it “correctly.” Sex is not factual. I don’t want your cookie-cutter sex, I don’t want your meticulously crafted, calculated, fool-proof fuck. I don’t want a show. I want you. Let your instincts, urges and whims define that. It’s enough.
What do most girls like? Forget about it. Statistics are meaningless when there’s only one. Hello, here’s me. Here’s you. Don’t worry about taking it too slow. We got time. We got infinite rhythms, combinations, possibilities. Explore each fuck. Take our time. We can do a different one later.
Don’t worry about making me come. I’m here. Right where I want to be. I am overwhelmed by wanting; you don’t have to convince me. I want you because I like you. So don’t put on a front. Don’t taint this.
I’m frustrated—it’s just authenticity I want. It’s originality. It’s passion. It’s joy. Don’t say that something I like is ugly. Don’t compare yourself to the rest. You will live and die with and within your experiences like everyone else. If someone thinks you are amazing, they are not wrong. Their universe is as real as any other; it is forged through perception.
I don’t care if you accidentally slammed my head into the wall, if you slipped out, if my arm cracked, if the delightful pressure of your wet lips on my anything made a silly sound. There is no right way and no wrong way.
“Good in bed,” what. You’re good in my bed. I’m pleased you’re there. I feel it suits you. Shove your technique. Let your memory swallow it. Fuck me like you’d fuck me, fuck me like you feel. This isn’t a test.
Obama’s one-liners during his speech at the White House Correspondents Dinner.
i love him.
ugh, look, there are only so many ways I can explain WHY and HOW the BIble doesn’t actually condemn homosexuality, and therefore it shouldn’t even be a religious issue even, before I have to throw up my hands and say “look, if you still don’t want gays to be equal in this country, then you’re just a bigot” and move on with my day.