can we get 36 hours a day? not for any productive purposes i just want to finish my to watch & to read list in this lifetime . also probably get enough sleep
This
I'd rather be in outer space šø

Discoholic šŖ©
Misplaced Lens Cap

if i look back, i am lost
Keni
noise dept.
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Claire Keane

ā

ā

ellievsbear
One Nice Bug Per Day
YOU ARE THE REASON

titsay

pixel skylines
tumblr dot com

izzy's playlists!
h

blake kathryn

oozey mess

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from Philippines

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Argentina

seen from Italy

seen from Hong Kong SAR China

seen from United States
seen from South Korea

seen from United States

seen from India
seen from Canada

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
@lady-teaflower
can we get 36 hours a day? not for any productive purposes i just want to finish my to watch & to read list in this lifetime . also probably get enough sleep
This
If I meet a genie the first thing Iām wishing for is executive functioning skills.
Honestly I think there wouldnāt be a need for further wishes after that. Just give me some impulse control, prioritization, and time management abilities and I could probably conquer the world.
Me super energetic and cheerful after drinking coffee: THISISGREATWHYDONTIDRINKCOFFEEMOREOFTEN?!
Me an anxious wreck a moment away from hyperventilating and crying because of the caffeine crash: This is why. This. Is. Why.
How can you fly with broken wings?
How can you climb with fear of heights?
How can you face the next problem when you no longer feel wise?
Is it seasonal depression if Iām depressed every season?
The feeling when your dad starts talking about previously unknown family history and you think youāve seen this trope before in a web novel š® :
Ok so I think my great great uncle had a protagonist halo
Never met the guy or anyone from the Japanese side of the family (which I didnāt even know existed until a few years ago??) but yeah my perspective has been changed significantly
- Bro was the eldest son of the first wife, but wanted to pursue his own interests in MATHS
- DISOWNED by his father when he did not come home from university to take up the lucrative family business
- ran away to Japan (which was ruling Taiwan at the time, so he had at least some knowledge of the language)
- got found by a SAMURAI???? Who then took him in and supported him???? And yes samurai were warriors but they were also nobility, somewhere around the equivalent of a baron I think
- said samurai found out that bro was extremely talented in maths, said samurai then asks him to tutor his daughter in maths
- he and said samuraiās daughter FALL IN LOVE
- they get married as cherry blossoms bloom šøšøšø
- the rest of my dads side of the family hardly talks about bro bc he was disowned and also possibly because my great grandfather was born to the second wife
- but somehow my grandfather stayed in contact with them??? And goes to visit that side of the family in Japan sometimes and takes pictures with the blooming cherry blossoms?? šøšøšø
- anyway TLDR; disgraced and disowned eldest son runs away to pursue his passions and is sponsored by nobility, falls in love with the noble lady of his sponsoring house, they get married and live happily ever after underneath the cherry blossoms šøšøšø
- so yeah I guess Iām the unreferenced extra in the epilogue of this novel
zhÄnzhĆØng de huĆ jiÄ (a real painter)
dreamer, mother teases as i beg a kĆØ more before waking
the comforting tides of sleep recede after one last halfhearted tug
i'm sad to see them go, my mind stranded in the harsh waking world once more
that which i dreamt of slipping through my grasp like water
but i cup my hands to hold the very last precious drops
and feel my hands close around the smooth bamboo handle of a paintbrush
which i'm certain i did not own before
dreamer, mother admonishes as she hustles me to work
my imagination wonāt fill our bellies, no matter how many warm and fragrant bÄozi i dream of
and even if we could afford to buy ink, we canāt eat pictures painted by it
she has a point, so instead of asking her where the paintbrush came from
i leave to catch fish for our dinner and the market
these waters wink at me, told by their kin of my predicament and laughing at it
cold in both amusement and temperature in the dark before dawn
only the tickling of the bristles hidden up my sleeve to tell me that the brush is real
dreamer, i can almost hear mother sigh as i'm entranced by sight of the horizon
the sky lightens in anticipation of the sun, color coming to the world as it begins to rise
in that magical moment of beauty i imagine sailing to the edge of the world where the line of the sea meets the heavens
bottling the nascent hues in a gourd vessel to capture the pigments
but i have no boat and can only stay on the shore, waiting in the shallows for fish to bite
still, i take the paintbrush from my sleeve and dip it into the waters
an impulse, a longing, a dream
strokes that will fade in less than a shĆchen on the soon to be sun-warmed ground
as i paint in the dirt with nothing but water, my hands tingle in the chill of early dawn
dreamer, mother laughs as i tell her that what i painted came to life
i could scarce believe it myself, even as i saw the frog i painted leaping into the waters i used in place of ink
and yet now i'm sure, as i lift the brush and paint for her a single bÄozi
she stares as it becomes real with the final stroke, picking it up with trembling hands
when i urge her she takes one hesitant bite, then another
it is warm and fragrant and real
it can fill our bellies
i'm already painting more
i'm a real painter now, i tell mother, now years later
my work is bought for no small amount of taels these days and we have enough money to buy all the brushes and inkstones and pigments i want
i still keep the magic paintbrush tucked into my sleeve
sometimes i still wake up before the rooster calls the sun into the sky
to sit on the shore, even though i have a boat
watching colors bloom into existence where the line of the sea meets the heavens
imagining myself sailing to the edge of the world, bottling the nascent hues into a gourd vessel
dreamer, mother smiles
you always were
tell me, what are dreams?
I always thought that I was not allowed to dream
Doodle of Caine from @1-wonder-1 's FABULOUS St Lanier's Hospital tadc AU! Done in the margins of my biology notes.
+ Badly drawn Zooble and Kinger!
GAASSSP OMG OMG HE LOOKS GREAT!!! My au is worming its way into pplās brains enough to be in their school notesā¦AMAZING
I think they look good too!! :D
B-badly drawn??? *error codes in disbelief*
painted in blue like itās my period
gold stained fingertips like Iām kitsungi-ed
The burdens you carry were not asked of you by anyone else, why do you cling to them?
I made this for my friend whose favorite character is Jax. Heās so messed up. (I say that affectionately)
Image Description:
A meme with three images. In the first, Pomni, a cashier wearing a jesterās hat asks, āHi, how would you like your character today?ā In the second, a wooden figure drawing model holding a spoon and a large bowl of cereal stands at the front of the line with many other of the same type of models waiting behind it. It responds, āMake it morally grey and toxic with extra trauma.ā The third picture shows Pomni with her eyes narrowed, looking suspiciously at Jax, a cartoon purple bunny with an annoyed expression tiredly slumped over the counter. Above his head is some text with an arrow pointing to him that reads āMorally grey and toxic with extra trauma.ā
What a terrible thing to have an epithet that no longer fits.
You feel like you must squeeze into it, suck in so that the zipper will go up, but you are no longer the same shape you used to be. You wear it anyways, and the whole time you feel acutely aware that everyone can see that it doesnāt fit. Its very presence reveals the parts of you that do not match anymore.
It was not a title you made for yourself, it was one given by those around you. It was a direction to who you were supposed to be, a prophecy you were supposed to fulfill.
You did not fulfill it.
And yet the epithet remains, ill-fitting. You look into the mirror as you struggle with it, remembering a time when it fell smoothly over your lips and limbs. A time when it was all you were. You long for that time.
You try to squeeze. You suck in. The zipper does not go up.
Small child: Miss Teacher, you have a pimple on your nose!
Me: (deadpan) Thank you for pointing that out.
Small child: Youāre welcome!
Today I discovered that caffeinated me has superpowers!! I can get stuff done! I can be social! I zoomy zoomy fast fast.
And then it wears off and the sleep deprivation hits me in the face like a truck.