Artwork for the story, Hot Mamma Knows Best writen by Jane Littell, art by Douglas Hilliker.
All-Story Love, March 21, 1931.
todays bird

titsay
NASA
almost home

izzy's playlists!
wallacepolsom
Xuebing Du
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

Discoholic 🪩
EXPECTATIONS
No title available

Janaina Medeiros
YOU ARE THE REASON
Cosmic Funnies
𓃗
cherry valley forever
Monterey Bay Aquarium
sheepfilms
Peter Solarz
Today's Document
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from T1

seen from Russia

seen from Thailand
seen from United States

seen from Egypt
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Netherlands

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
@come-see-the-sunset
Artwork for the story, Hot Mamma Knows Best writen by Jane Littell, art by Douglas Hilliker.
All-Story Love, March 21, 1931.
Yo! Ever heard of knocking before entering a room?
Charles Napier Kennedy - The Woman Who Loves Death, 1898.
art + inspiration
illustration x john katsikarelis
brooke eva x james banasiak
<3
Golden Hour
Cam Damage
GREEN DAY vs. homophobia in the early 90’s
There was a girl who could only live on lemonade. Or her parents were really old and rubbish and just kept giving it to her to the point where she couldn’t have anything else. Or they were really nice and only gave it to her because they really liked her. I can’t decide that bit but she could only live on lemonade. If she didn’t have lemonade, she’d die. And her parents were going to die soon too because they had something wrong with them that their blood was blue or something like that. And she had a brother but he was really stupid, though, no one really cared about him. They just wanted their little girl to live. The only trouble is, no one thought about her brother. She was in a bottle, he was on his own, no one thought about him. They just left him. So he sat by her, her brother, he sat by her in the bottle and ‘cause lemonade helped her eyesight, she could see him really clearly through the sides, even though the grass was as a thick as his skull. And cause it was the countryside, there was nothing for him to eat, nothing for him to buy and he was starving. And she could see that and there was no one looking after him, cause he was a bit stupid, couldn’t really look after himself, and it kept on raining so he was getting a bit rusty. She was having an amazing time with the lemonade but she knew she had to help him, so she swam to the surface but she couldn’t get out, it was too far away, this bottle was too big. She knew she had to do something, he was getting worse and worse and worse and he was really hungry and thirsty and he started eating glass and puking up all the time. So she tried to think of some plan for him but she couldn’t. All she knew is that he needed her with him. All she could do was watch him puke his guts up on the other side of the glass. But then bingo, she knew. She started to drink and she drank and she drank and she drank. And this was a lot of lemonade, enough to last her till she died, cause her parents wanted her to live for ages but she drank, every last drop, until she was in an empty bottle but that was no good, she still couldn’t get out. But that was okay, because she just waited until she had a big one stored up. Because she drank all the pop, she drank all the lemonade. And then she started to fart. It was slow at first but then it was really loud and hard. She blew her way out of the bottle, straight from the top, like a rocket. Then she stopped her brother eating grass and they went and found a nice little house to live in together, her and her brother. And it turned out drinking all that lemonade had cured her because she never wanted it again. She had orange for the rest of her life.
desejos
eu gosto do novo, não do passado
eu gosto do surpreendente, não do monótonoÂ
eu gosto da reação espontânea, não da ensaiada
eu gosto do improviso, não do reprise
eu poderia simplesmente guardar tudo isso
e vai estar muito bem guardado, por sinal
vou lembrar sempre
mas chega da mesmisse
quero viver
quero arriscar
quero, principalmente, sentir
quero alguém que me traga o diferente
alguém que possa ser cúmplice dos meus planos
alguém que concorde
alguém que tenha sede da vida
alguém disposto a dividir, e eu dividir com alguém
e depois, eu vou querer tudo de novo
mas não o mesmo.Â
base
a madrugada e todas as sensações que te traz.
é o momento em que é você e o escuro da noite. escuro que te faz enxegar.
o sol nos dias vem, nos momentos de maior inconsciência da rotina, nos deixando cegos.
então ele se põe, junto à todo o ruÃdo urbano.
e a luz que te faz franzir os olhos dimunuà e todo o estardalhaço sonoro se vai, chegando o escuro e o silêncio.
e essa é a hora que podemos enxergar e ouvir melhor: cada substância que nos compõe.
e então tudo vem à tona, de uma só vez, como num único momento de sobriedade de suas 24 horas.
e se nesse momento, o vazio fizer parte? bom, aÃ, não há mais o que escrever, apenas coloque o ponto final e torça pros para os próximos 1440 minutos te proporcionarem algo melhor.
mas não desanime.
escreve amanhã. em alguma noite você estará transbordando o que hoje se encontra pingos.
você tem tanto a ser.
I may be a shitty boyfriend, but… turns out I’m actually a pretty damn good babysitter.
Fresh Start
🌷🌷🌷🌿