the monster at the end of this book

pnw🍓25🍓she/they🍓bi stone femme

[matchagirl]

erin m riley tapestry

[importantcatpics]

[lucydacusgirl]

i wish swimming was something you could do alone in your bedroom.

[mushroomemoji444]

paulhiller on instagram (Taipei, Taiwan)

[flickrat]

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:☆:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

[greatestlittlegiant]

always thinking of that “i couldn’t stop wasting time” quote

[greatestlittlegiant]

song of the summer!!

[boringangel]

“What’s in my bra” by Gracie Collins(2024)

[coquette-club]

[mossy-cobble]

crazy how i find myself thinking i've got a handle on it all finally and then i see the ways that other people tangle their lives together so easily and live so easily together with their friends and i feel like that girl at the top of the stairs painting by norman rockwell

[mossy-cobble]

i'll always be here

[ghostshark]

Malcolm in the Middle if it were a 90s indie art film

[kyotoprotocols]

[night-the-starfish]

Hunter and prey, markers on paper.

[computerexploder]

im just someones weird sister

[notwiselybuttoowell]

Quiet joys w/ Marge

[lizzybennets]

the human version of the heart eyes emoji 😍😍

ELIZABETH BENNET AND FITZWILLIAM DARCY Pride and Prejudice (1995)

[alonesomes]

“[after a half-hearted suicide attempt at age 13] When Daddy comes in, he carries you to bed. Is there anything you feel like you could eat, Pokey? Anything at all? All you can imagine putting in your mouth is a cold plum, one with really tight skin on the outside but gum-shocking sweetness inside. And he and your mother discuss where he might find some this late in the season. Mother says hell I don’t know. Further north, I’d guess. The next morning, you wake up in your bed and sit up. Mother says, Pete, I think she’s up. He hollers in, You ready for breakfast, Pokey. Then he comes in grinning, still in his work clothes from the night before. He’s holding a farm bushel. The plums he empties onto the bed river toward you through folds in the quilt. If you stacked them up, they’d fill the deepest bin at the Piggly Wiggly. Damned if I didn’t get the urge to drive to Arkansas last night, he says. Your mother stands behind him saying he’s pure USDA crazy. Fort Smith, Arkansas. Found a roadside stand out there with a feller selling plums. And I says, Buddy, I got a little girl sick back in Texas. She’s got a hanker for plums and ain’t nothing else gonna do. It’s when you sink your teeth into the plum that you make a promise. The skin is still warm from riding in the sun in Daddy’s truck, and the nectar runs down your chin. And you snap out of it. Or are snapped out of it. Never again will you lay a hand against yourself, not so long as there are plums to eat and somebody-anybody-who gives enough of a damn to haul them to you. So long as you bear the least nibblet of love for any other creature in this dark world, though in love portions are never stingy. There are no smidgens or pinches, only rolling abundance. That’s how you acquire the resolution for survival that the coming years are about to demand. You don’t earn it. It’s given.”

— Mary Karr, “Cherry” (via lifeinpoetry)

[pmamtraveller]

by Chen Chi-kwan