Talk to me.About the LadyArchive

My mother loves dolphins. And kitties. I think her head would explode if she saw this.
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And not a single fuck was given that day. (man, I love giraffes.)
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My sister and I found a little baby beaver on the riverbank today. We named it Beavis.

Before I could get a photo of the cute little baby, it scurried away and all I said was “Damn it, Beavis”.

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junk-art-city: i wish i had a boat like this one so i could venture off This looks like the perfect day.
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(via madcatterlol, fucknicethings) “You wouldn’t believe it! It had wings, and it was flying, and everything. Oh my god, it was horrible!”
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Reasons why I want to be a seahorse

imanormalalien:

sofiadelavega:

  • the males get pregnant
  • they hold tails with their mate when they find them 
  • they stay with that mate for the rest of their lives
  • when their mate dies, they die too
  • the male gets pregnant
  • the guy gets pregnant
  • the dude gets pregnant
  • someone other than the female endures pain
  • the guy gets pregnant
  • the male becomes impregnated  

This.

I want to be little seahorse - Devendra Banhart

(via goodfriendtree)

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sexandfury: Outdoor Vinyl
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The Story of Little Phil A number of days ago, my beautiful cat, Simon Ruppington Babyhead the 1st, spotted something in the yard. He didn’t seem to be terribly interested in hunting it, or harming it, but he was fascinated with this little baby creature. It was a tiny little blackbird that had somehow wound up on the ground with an injury. It couldn’t fly. It was just sitting there chilling like a little birdy does when it’s lost from its nest. I didn’t want to touch it at first, because mother birds tend to flip out if their babies have human scent on them. So I kept an eye on him, and got him to hop on to a small branch so I could rescue it from my cat (just in case he decided to go for it). It seemed a little uncomfortable in the makeshift nest I made for it, so I transported it to the small garden my mother is keeping. About an hour later I went to check on it and it had gotten itself all mucked up in the garden. It seemed unable to hold itself up. I figured, maybe it needed a little water. I brought it some water but it was uninterested. Upon realizing that its mother probably wasn’t going to come back for it, I picked it up and gave it a little bath in a small pail full of warmish water. Its stability began to decline rapidly, so I sat in back and held it in my hands, stroking its little birdy head as it dried off from its bath. I sat there for about half an hour before I decided to lay it to rest under a tree. That was where it took its final breaths. I wish I would have known how to rescue it so it wouldn’t have had to die. My sister named it ‘Little Phil’. For some reason we have a weird inside joke that all blackbirds are Philips. And since it was just a little guy, well, you get the point.
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What is reality?
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retrogasm: Communicate with nature…
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funkelly: scanzen: A giant sequoia log, Sequoia National Park, California, undated, c1910. (via Historic American Engineering Record) Gross Holy. shit.
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treselegant: ‘And the sea was crooning a lullaby.” Cassell’s Family Magazine, 1881. 
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studiolai: wrathes: finished piece for tania! sorry it took me so long to do so little ahhh Oh WOW!~ Oh how beautiful! What a character, and the colors! -dies- Brilliant work~
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