Show & Tell
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
blake kathryn
ellievsbear
@theartofmadeline
sheepfilms
todays bird
Sweet Seals For You, Always
#extradirty
if i look back, i am lost
🪼
Today's Document
Noah Kahan
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Andulka
No title available
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
𓃗
will byers stan first human second
seen from Finland
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Ukraine
seen from Norway
seen from United States
seen from Switzerland
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Colombia
seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Canada
@klarajansons-blog
“Oh, be nicer to yourself. It looks complicated.”
“I couldn’t still do it, at any rate.” “
“I’m good at biology. It’s a challange, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
“What are you studying? I’m doing genetics... If that wasn’t already clear.”
“At least it helps you get food,” he joked.”I’m doing Fine Art, BA Hons. You?”
“Genetics.” Klara smilled, shrugging slighty. “I love biology, and I don’t know... I would quite like to work specifically with genetics when I’m older.” Klara paused, thinking for a moment. “I love art, I can’t draw though. I have no coordination... Could I see some of your work sometime?”
Katrina’s eyebrows shot up in amusement – Birmingham. The girl was from the north like her, in some ways. As soon as Klara was inside, Katrina slammed the door shut and simply gestured as if to say ‘make yourself at home.’ “I’m Katrina. And thank you. I would appreciate that.” She stopped for a moment, giving Klara a very odd look. “Dormy. Right.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t fine the right word just then.” Klara offered Katrina a smile. “You have a lovely name.“ Klara sat down on the end of the bed, her hands resting on her knees. “What are you studying, Katrina?”
“Nice.”
“Thanks, it’s just a simple diagram of the biologyof the cell... But thanks.”
Night Bump|Charlie & Klara
The music blared in Charlie’s ears, and the lights beat low against his eyesight as he entered The Vault, the nightclub nearest to the university. He reckoned that it would be one of the best places to meet people, or at least different people that he’d find huddled in the library or in the dorms at Holborn. Not that he minded the others, of course. He just knew that a good variety of personality types would ultimately make his life more interesting. However, as he wondered over to the bar, narrowly avoiding a pair of drunks swearing profusely, he questioned the idea, and ordered a shot of ‘something strong and funny coloured’.
The Vault. Klara had been told to come here by multiple fellow students; the music was loud, the smell of alcohol fused with sweat and perfume swarmed her nose, and the music pouned in her ears. Klara enjoyed clubs, though, she always had. Her friends back in sixth form had dragged her out a lot of the time, using fake IDs they got off friends in their year group until they all turned eighteen. It was the way it had always been back then -- it was different. She barely spoke to her friends from back then, they had grown apart, and Klara had to move on with her life.
She leant up against the bar, her hands resting on the edge as she pressed her body against the metalic edge. “Vodka and lemonade,” she practicaly yelled at the barman. As she waited, Klara looked atound her, watching people dance -- rather explicitly -- against each other, others sitting in the sofas either chatting or eating each other’s faces. This was what she liked about clubs -- they were places where people got to unleash the side they didn’t get to usually show. For one night, they could be someone else. She was about to take her drink when she recognised the face of the person next to her. “Charlie!” She grinned at him, “hi.”
headshrinker || jules and klara
Jules sat in the armchair outside Dr. Crane’s office, staring blankly at the notebook she’d given him. Try to write in it every day, she’d said. As if he didn’t have enough shit to do, enough people to disappoint. What would he write in it anyway? He’d never been a diary sort of person. It seemed pointless - writing things down wouldn’t change anything.
The sound of the door opening made him look up sharply from the empty page in front of him. A vaguely familiar girl had just emerged from Dr. Crane’s office. He’d seen her in passing on the way to class, but they’d never spoken, and this certainly wasn’t the first impression he wanted to make. The last thing he needed was everyone at uni knowing he was crazy. He kept his head down and pretended to be immersed in the blank notebook, hoping she wouldn’t look his way.
Her session with Dr. Crane had been uncomfortable. Klara wasn’t depressed - she had been heavily bereaved by her Aunt’s death, but she had never considred herself depressed. She simply needed help coping with the death, and that was something her old therepist understood; Dr. Crane didn’t. She spoke to Klara like she was a child -- correction, like she couldn’t speak English. Klara was almost completely fluent after living here for almost thirteen years. Sometimes she slipped into Latvian or Russian when speaking, but not all the time.
Dr. Crane kept insisting Klara wasn’t making progress in the weekly sessions. Mostly because Klara refused to speak to the obviously xenophobic woman, and because of this she had concluded she had ‘unresolved anger issues with her parents’. Klara thought this was laughable, she loved her parents, as flawed as they were they had always done what they thought was right . Klara was desperate to get a new therapist, someone like Dr. Puck, who she had had in Birmingham. Dr. Puck had understood her, understood her needs. Dr. Crane didn’t. It was annoying as hell. Klara could swear in every language at that woman if she could.
She left the office, mutttering in Latvian under her breath (it had been something along the lines of “stupid, incompetant fuckface”). She had personally had it up to breaking point with this woman. “You are seeing this woman also?” She asked the boy sitting down in one of the chairs. “She is crap. I want to put her face through a window.” She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry, she just puts me in a foul mood. I’m Klara.” She offered him a small smile, extending her hand out to him.
“It’s fine, just… please don’t do it again,” Katrina sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Really? I was beginning to wonder a bit… your accent sounds a bit… mixed.” After hesitating for a few moments. “Come in, for a bit. I’m kicking you out at four, though. I have a lecture on logic at nine.” With those words, Katrina opened the door wider to allow for the other woman to enter. She was awake now. Might as well use the company.
“Well, I moved to Birmingham when I was ten, so that’s where I learnt the majority of my English.” Klara stepped inside, offering the girl a smile. “I am Klara. Thank you for inviting me in. And I won’t do this again, I promise.” Turning to the girl, Klara shrugged. “I like your dorm... It’s very dormy.”
Charlie laughed. “That makes two of us, then. Languages never clicked for me either. All that structure didn’t really pave the way for motivation.” He grinned. “I’m Charlie.”
“Nice to meet you, Charlie.” She returned the smile. “You should have heard me when I first came here, the only word I knew was ‘plate’. It’s all I could remember from the English classes we took at school.” Shrugging, Klara stuffed her hands in her pockets, rocking back and forth on her feet. “What are you studying?”
“Wow, that’s incredible! No, no, I love it when people get into what they talk about. It means that they’re passionate about it, and it’s always awesome to see someone express their passion.”
“I don’t think I know any language other than English-maybe half a word of French from seventh grade?”
“Thank you... I’m not really passionate about languages, it’s just how I was brought up. My teachers were Russian, my family is Latvian. The majority of Latvia now speaks Russian, actually...” Laughing again, Klara shook her head. “I can’t speak French. I get Latvian and Russian confused a lot of the time, a fourth language would possibly kill me.”
"I'm Klara, by the way. What can I call you?"
“I do like the medium heat, I can’t deny that. Possibly more than the hot, unsurprisingly. Sounds like an inspirational place. I’ll have to see if I can visit it after my course.”
“Haha, yup. First time I’ve been to the UK, although I can probably say I’ve been to every city in Aussie. My parents are keen travelers,although I’m not gonna deny I love it too.”
Klara let out a light laugh. “I would probably die in the heat, but I would love to go to Austrailia one day. I’ve never really travelled. Though I can speak three languages - I was born in Latvia when it was under the USSR, so my first two languages are Russian and Latvian. English I didn’t learn properly until I came here when I was ten.” Klara shrugged. “Atvaino, I just gave you my lifes story... You should visit Riga, though. It’s the capitial. If you do go, you must visit the Freedom Monument. It’s beautiful.”
“Damn, remind me never to go, or I might turn into a popsicle or something. Although it does sound like it would be fun.”
"You should visit Riga in the summer, it is beautiful. Quite warm too - but granted, not your kinda warm.” Klara smiled. “You are Austrailian? Right? The accent gives it away.”
“The what music, now?” Katrina frowned at the other woman. “But no. I was already pretty much fast asleep and then you came and ruined that entirely. The music was further away than your banging.” She opened the door a little wider. “Who are you, anyway? I’ve not seen you around here yet.”
"I am sorry for waking you. I just got frustrated with the music - I cannot figure out where it is coming from.” Klara pursed her lips, bobbing up and down on her feet as a paitence shortened. “I have not had much sleep... Oh, stulbs is... Latvian for stupid. I am Latvian. I kind of slip into it sometimes, it’s my first language.”
katrinajenkins:
“It’s three o’clock in the morning. Why the hell are you banging on my door?”
Klara froze, frowning slightly. “My banging woke you, but that stulbs house music didn’t?” She pointed upward toward the ceiling, pursing her lips. “It hasn’t stopped since one... I was wondering if you knew who it was... I bet they’re high.”
“You’re joking. I feel like I need to put on a jumper or something. My skin has goosebumps already.”
“No, I am not joking. It’s warm, have you ever been to Birmingham? Or Latvia? Now there’s cold weather.”
“The weather at the moment is... Too hot. Starting to wonder how I’m going to survive exam season.”
Klara Jansons ✗ 22 ✗ Demisexual ✗ Agender ✗ Genetics BSc ✗ Ksenia Solo
“Your genetics load the gun. Your lifestyle pulls the trigger.”
Born in Riga, Latvia, Klara spent the first 10 years of her life there. After her eleventh birthday, she and her parents moved to Birmingham, England, for her father’s career, and so her mother could expand her ever growing restaurant chain. The move affected Klara deeply; moving to a country where she didn’t speak the language scared her, and when she started school, her peers couldn’t understand her accent, and laughed when she mixed the two languages up. By the time she got a firm grasp of English, everyone had lost interest in her, leaving Klara to isolate herself. She often found herself daydreaming of her life back in Riga, where all her friends were, and where she didn’t have to speak to entirely different languages. Her only comfort was speaking on the phone to her Auntie Anya; they were very close, and Anya often treated Klara like a daughter, something Klara’s mother resented in Anya.
As secondary school went on, Klara found herself becoming immersed in the sciences – especially biology. She absorbed herself into her studies, and during her GCSEs she received A*s in all three sciences. Science was Klara’s world, and although her school wanted her to stay on for sixth form, Klara decided to go to college for her post-sixteen studies. She was ready to leave for uni when the family had to rush back to Latvia – Klara’s Aunt Anya had been in a car crash, leaving her comatose. Within a few months, she was taken off life support and given a funeral. The death ruined Klara’s world, and upon returning to England, she secluded herself in her room at her parents, barely leaving it. Her parents put her in therapy to help her deal with the greif, and it took until she was 21 to get the courage to apply for university again.
Choosing to study genetics, Klara was excited to get back to learning about what she loved. Since beginning her studies, and seeing her new therapist (who lives on site), Klara’s confidence has grown, and she has started to go out and enjoy herself more. She’s discovered that she likes going clubbing and going to parties, and has found a new found love for dancing and meeting new people. Klara finally feels like she has her life back on track, but is scared of one day finally leaving her therapist, as she feels that they are the only person she can trust.
