The Doors. 1968

Beabadoobee by Amit Israeli for D la Repubblica June 2022

If you wanna see my posts (or has my commentary) #vibevibe

"All the gods have been domesticated And Heaven is now overrated And the churches, they all closed their doors But you can take your complaints straight to the Lord I try to still look with wonder on the world As the roses bloom And the riot van still plainly in view" From "Cassandra", by Florence I couldn't help but make another one, And as I said, this album cracked me open. 🔥🥀

it’s a witchy life

Older!Bob’s Burgers kids AU Character introduction: Louise

Basic info

Full name: Louise Belcher Age: 16 Gender: cis female Zodiac Sign: Scorpio Sexuality: Bisexual Occupation: High School Student Whatstagram @: 4our3ars

If sarcasm was a shield, this girl would be wearing a full suit of armor, baby. Seriously, Linda theorizes that Louise has actually lost the ability to talk like a normal person. Besides that, she’s really a good kid, even tough she may not look like it. But when you’re the smallest, and youngest, in your family, you have to take some measures. She still wears her bunny ears, just not all the time. And she let’s Linda wash it. Hand wash it. If the hat is not on, she always wears her hair in space buns or pigtails, not really comfortable with her hair everywhere. She also loves wearing fingerless gloves, it makes her feel badass, like a biker. She recently, with a lot of help and encouraging chants from Gene, and some advice from Tina, came to the conclusion that she’s bisexual, which is terrifying for her. The thought of loving another person is bad enough, but now she know it can happen with both genders and she’s really worried. Bob and Linda was really chill about it, after all, they went through that whole thing with Gene a couple of years ago, but she’s still very raw about it herself. When it becomes to much for her, she sneaks away to hang with the One Eyed Snakes. She know she’d be dead meat if her parents found out, but the feeling out sitting behind on a motorcycle, not having control and just letting go is so therapeutic to her. And it’s not like they’re kids, all the Snakes are grown up, and they all know she’s Bob’s daughter and they drive super carefully with her, to her great disappointment. When she’s not riding on the back of gang members motorcycles, she’s riding her skateboard, and because of that she’s always scraped up at her knees, sometimes elbows and hands, and she’s always late. She’s terrible at skating, but she swears, she’ll get the hang of it soon! In Middle School she decided to make herself a little crew, and they’ve stuck together since then. They consist of Andy and Ollie Pesto, Regular Sized Rudy, and, to everybody’s great shock, Millie Frock. Huh, that rhymes. But more on that later. The Millie thing, not the rhyming. 

Five Secrets

1. Her best friends, besides Gene, is the Pesto Twins, and she really likes them. They’re weird, and they listen to her. 

2. Regular Sized Rudy may be a good friend, but she’s always terrified that he’ll die when he’s with them. 

3. She saw Logan last summer, and keyed his car up, real bad. She even signed it as Four Ears, but he never told on her. She doesn’t get why, and it makes her furious. 

4. She has no idea what she wants to do with her life, and it scares the shit out of her.

5. She’s not sure if she would have made it trough middle school if it wasn’t for Gene. 

( AU Masterpost ft. the other characters and all writing )

Jimmy Page-69

Adit Priscilla by Pieter Hugo for Harper’s Bazaar US March 2022

Duff photo dump

Here’s a snippet of a ficlet (before I had ficterruptus) for the lovely @m-faithfull … *Warning - not polished, and very silly (wait, that's everything I write 😁)*

You’ve made it. Backstage. The Holy Land. And sans even the slightest particle of dust on your knees. Your excitement is palpable, nearly overwhelming as you struggle to drink in every last drop. Your wild wonderment reluctantly dwindles into dull surprise as you realize that it’s not exactly what you expected. In fact, it left more than a little to be desired. Stark lighting … check. The stench of cold concrete and stale cigarettes … check. Half-dressed girls with glittery daggers for eyes … double check. No, make that triple, you muse, your gaze flickering up and down exhibits A, B, and C. They’re surrounded by boisterous roadies doling out favors on what appears to be a sliding scale. The more generous the slide, the more generous the favor. You clench your teeth as you watch the festivities, nearly gagging by proxy. Your revelation creeps into a pang of disappointment. Holy Land? More like Sodom and Gomorrah. Not glamorous. Not by a long shot. Completely dispirited, you turn on your heel to leave, freezing as a splash of red catches your eye. Searing needles fill your cheeks, and you blink, not quite sure if you’re seeing what you think you see. The third flutter confirms it. You are. It’s Robert, floating above the fray, and he’s staring at you. Right at you, cigarette dangling from his lips, that trademark dimple slowly deepening. Your heart skips a beat as you read the glimmer in his eye. It’s full of mischief and fun, and perhaps something a bit more carnal. Your gaze drifts to the paper taped haphazardly next to him, but you can’t decipher the scribble and assume it’s a makeshift sign for the dressing room. You glance back, but he’s turned toward a bear of a man donning a white suit and a black bowler hat. That must be Bonham. Your suspicions are validated as Robert lets loose a howling laugh.

“Christ, Bonzo, how many times are you going in there? Gives new meaning to the term drum stool.”

“Fuck you, mate.”

“Maybe they should just replace yours with a commode, yeah?”

“Piss off. I was workin’ on something for Zoe. And it’s the only fuckin’ quiet place around here.”

“What’s it this time? Another scarf?” With a smirk, Robert leans into his friend. “Better not let Pagey have a look.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s a bloody jumper, you git.” The drummer grunts. “I’m thinkin’ about doing a muzzle next, but I’m not quite sure if I can make it big enough for your fat gob.” 

As Bonzo lumbers past him, he gives Robert a tiny shove, eliciting another smile from the singer as he resumes his inspection of you. His fingers clutch his belt buckle, and you follow their progress, transfixed by the sight. They’re so big. Every inch of him is so big … hands, chest, thighs. And other things. You realize that you’re holding your breath. He slinks off the doorframe and takes a step toward you, but you panic, whirling around and darting into the closest room you can find. The heavy panel clicks shut behind you, and you inhale deeply, only to have your solace interrupted. You’re not alone. Your jaw drops as Jimmy’s head jerks up, his delicate, yarn draped fingers outfitted with the largest pair of knitting needles you’ve ever seen. Your shocked gazes lock for a beat, and you pray the grin that’s begging for release stays put. But the guitarist's pretty, pink pout lets you know it’s too late.