i imagine that Beyoncé is off somewhere on a yacht, sipping on an olivia pope sized glass of wine, watching the entire world explode over her new album dropping out of literally the thinnest of air and cackling to herself with sheer joy. like, not only did she give you 14 new songs, but she gave you a music video for every damn one. this wasn’t just a casual troll, this was a calculated strike of nuclear proportions and she is leaving no survivors.
"Come back to bed," the words, said in a teasing, almost plaintive lilt, could not quite shed the memories that still clung to them even after all these years.
Touché, Madam President.
people when they look at my blog
i’m awful. but awful rhymes with waffle, so it’s not that bad
the fuck kind of accent do you have
what kind of accent do you have where they don’t rhyme??
Give them the strength to commit their love to one another, unshakeable through any storm.
I’m a hustler. I’ll do whatever it takes.
I think if Gail had been born deaf, dumb and with no eyeballs she still would have been drawn to Holly. It’s not about gender in this case. It’s about when your heart splits open and it’s guts are splatter all over the walls. It’s about falling in love