blue is the stars. gansey is the sun. adam is the moon. noah is the wind. and ronan is the earth beneath them all.
hope this makes sense.
noise dept.
wallacepolsom

#extradirty
RMH
🪼

roma★
Mike Driver
i don't do bad sauce passes
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Show & Tell

izzy's playlists!
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Jules of Nature

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Cosimo Galluzzi
Sweet Seals For You, Always

pixel skylines

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from Italy

seen from Brazil
seen from Spain
seen from France

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Singapore

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from Japan
seen from United States
@siddhipostshere
blue is the stars. gansey is the sun. adam is the moon. noah is the wind. and ronan is the earth beneath them all.
hope this makes sense.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Saturday, 7th March'26
half.a.poet
This is not about us being in love, really. It's about being twenty two in a big city and feeling so free every time we step out after dark. It's about our clueless friends who still don't know about what we've been up to, they don't know when the karaoke's all empty, you're the one my hands reach out to. You told me we're the youngest we've ever been and laughed when I told you I had a dream about your mouth. The sky is mixing your favourite shades of blue and purple, March is almost halfway through, your hand is on my waist and I'm looking up at you. Why does it feel like our time is halfway through?
half.a.poet on Instagram
Wednesday, 25.02.26
You've got that camera you cherish pointed at my face, and usually I get so shy when someone is capturing me; but I'm laughing now, even with the wind messing up my hair, even with my lipgloss half faded, with the late february sun blurring my vision. I am hoping with all my heart, you remember me just like this: carefree, happy, loud, easygoing. Not as my health problems, not as my numerous incapabilities. And I promise to see you as you are now: with love in your eyes, without any pity.
follow @half.a.poet on Instagram!
desi hands aesthetic. ethnic jewellery. mehendi. chudiyan. dusty pink saree.
would've done numbers on Pinterest but isn't uploading for some reason 😕
Thursday//22.1.26
Two buttons on your white shirt are unbuttoned and I hate the stupid sunset for casting the dim, orange glow on your skin. You're laughing at something I barely remember saying. It hurts to look at you, when all I can think of is the little ways we could ruin the friendship. Are we hanging by a thread so weak, one little experimental kiss, would damage things? You could lean closer, just a little bit and if you want we never have to talk about it. You put your hand on my waist like it's nothing, like you didn't have to spare it a thought and you are so unaware of how the world shifted right from underneath my feet. I hate the way your perfume is going to linger here after you leave. Please, please, let me ruin the friendship. Just a little bit.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I complain about how nothing dreamy and poetic ever happens to me, how everything in my life is boring and you tell me the story of when you saw me for the first time. You remember the small white flowers on my yellow outfit, you remember the peacock earrings, you remember how I did not look back at you. You tell me how it rained that day when you sketched the shape of my eyes. You think it's poetic, that you were wearing your only yellow shirt the day we talked for the first time. You don't know I loathed the colour yellow until this conversation, until exactly twelve seconds ago, until you told me I remind you of the sun on early winter mornings. You laugh, because I hate mornings too, just like yellow. I tell you I don't anymore, not after this. You tell me I'm the most poetic, most dreamy thing that's ever happened to you, and soon, I will tell you I started writing about you four months before you saw me for the first time.
22nd December
1:48 a.m.
December opened her door two days ago and all I can see inside her house is the same month, another year; All I can think about is how the good bye was not long enough. It was this: you standing there, holding the girl’s some other girl’s favourite flowers and the voice in my head telling me it was an honest mistake, because what else could it be. It was someone else’s favourite restaurant, a memorized coffee order from another cold date night, another face behind your closed eyes, repeated words from a failed story you could not close. It was me, slowly fading from your life, and it was you, not turning back to ask. It's a new December now but I think it might always be december and I will always wait outside the door I closed, to see if you ever turn back.
anyone else thinking about effie spending 24 years watching haymitch completely fall apart. effie, who met haymitch by accident, who knows exactly what kind of person he is, who sees him every year on his birthday for 24 years and each year he’s drunker, each year he’s angrier, each year he’s faster to give up. and then they get katniss and peeta. peeta, who is kind and open and understanding, who refuses to give up on haymitch. and katniss, who is so much like haymitch at 16 that it hurts. and over the few days they’re together, effie watches haymitch come back to life. watches him try. watches him have hope. and then they get to keep not one but both of those kids. they get to come home. and then, less then a year later, effie pulls haymitch’s name at the reaping.
the way the last line was absolutely unnecessary
the way haymitch must have seen it as all his ghosts coming back to haunt him at once when katniss walked onto the train with the face of burdock and asterid, the pin of maysilee, the voice of lenore dove, and a background so devastatingly similar to his own. of course sweetheart slipped out. and of course he did everything he could to keep her alive
please I can't deal with this
haymitch says himself katniss is like him, but luckier.
katniss realized the berries were nightlock before peeta ate them.
alright just kill me now pls

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
found these from my Instagram archives 4 years ago😭
from my instagram 🩷
"Life is not a poem" but humans are. Every single human being is a poem. They walk around with their own lives tied to so many others, all of them feel such different things on the same day, they could be in the same crowd living entirely different lives, they're on the same train going to completely different places for reasons that are worlds apart. Maybe the person you bumped into today is getting married tomorrow. Maybe the person who sold you flowers the day before is going through the worst heartache of his life. There are so many stories in so many people and if that's not poetry.
Part of the reason why being seventeen feels so much like the world ending is because we spend years romanticizing this one age. Movies and books and stories will tell you about seventeen year old characters who saved the world, overthrew the government with their friends, did something permanent and beautiful, while falling in love with their soulmate. You wait for all that, but turns out seventeen is a mess. Half your friends aren't real. Maybe you have a partner who hates you or you've never had your first kiss. And that's okay because seventeen year olds are literally babies.
4th May, 2025

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I am healing from old wounds and it is easier now, because it is april.
18th april, friday
Qays spent ages writing about Layla. In his poems, she was otherworldly, gorgeous, and perfect. When the king heard of his poems and the woman in them, he ordered for Layla to be brought before him. When he saw her, he was angry and disappointed. He had expected the most beautiful woman, but to him, Layla was plain and nothing so great. The concept that if you are not Qays, you will not understand why she is Layla. There's poetry in this story.