roxxxane:

I’m a perpetually horny human being and I don’t know how to handle myself

emeute:

This is a place where I can comfortably hold a work meeting or introduce to a friend whose looking for something different. Ever since my first visit (incidentally, on the second day they opened) I’ve felt drawn to return; for the coffee, for the space and for the people. Whether I stay for a minute or for an hour, I always feel welcomed as a friend and appreciated as a customer. Places like Sixteen Ounces remind me of why I love doing what I do so much - there’s something about good food and great coffee that always manages to bring people together. Places like this can heal you, enlighten you and bring about the simplest, purest form of contentment.

Sixteen Ounces, Victoria Park - Perth, Western Australia.

artmonia:

Color Latte Art by Japanese Nowtoo Sugi.

tdub132:

devildoll:

OH MY GOD IT’S YOU HI

*BREAKS EVERY WINDOW IN THE HOUSE TO FEEL MANLY AGAIN*

tdub132:

devildoll:

OH MY GOD IT’S YOU HI

*BREAKS EVERY WINDOW IN THE HOUSE TO FEEL MANLY AGAIN*

(Source: )

magicalnaturetour:

earthandanimals:

Mother Red Panda carries her baby by david evans

Too stinking cute!

eartheld:

mostly nature

(Source: voxamberlynn)


Dogs copying a baby crawling.

Dogs copying a baby crawling.

(Source: kittiezandtittiez)

edwardspoonhands:

hiddenlex:

X-Wing and TIE Fighter Engagement Rings - Paul Michael Design

Katherine, we’re getting a divorce…I need to propose again.

(Source: aureat)

(Source: zackarypham)

(Source: ekthomas23)

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.

It’s not that I don’t love you.  (via extrasad)

wow.

(via emmasnotdead)