//Guess who just lost almost 20 years old account to random AI decision and can't appeal :) I give up
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

JVL

if i look back, i am lost
Sade Olutola
🪼
Stranger Things
DEAR READER
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Acquired Stardust
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@theartofmadeline

oozey mess
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Not today Justin

blake kathryn

titsay
taylor price
Claire Keane
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@notneko
//Guess who just lost almost 20 years old account to random AI decision and can't appeal :) I give up
//Came back to spam in inbox
//Yea , came to the right place :^)
"I'm almost done setting up. Feel free to come in and take a look at the menu."
. ☘︎ ݁˖ about | ask | submit
Goro Akechi as All the Persona 5 Angels in the Justice Arcana!
I liked this post, scrolled for like another minute before I went “SHIT FUCK SHIT” and scrolled back to reblog it
I always reblog this one when I see it on my dash. When someone posts their own art, writing, or music here they are really hoping you will share it.
Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.
But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.
On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.
But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.
But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.
And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.
Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.
The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.
When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.
~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy
I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it
Fuck man
My mom likes to refrence a story she read
About a guy who escaped North Korea
He said living there was like living in a pot
And he grew up there, so he grew into the shape of the pot
But once he was out
And the pot was gone
He was still in the shape of the pot
And he had to work really hard to grow outside that shape
I think its the same with alot of things
Art, gender presentation, decoration prefrences, food, hobbies
You forget what made you happy in favor of what kept you alive.
Wanderer and Harumasa (ZZZ) They share the same JP Seiyuu!
((Found this one hiding in my files, so here’s a doodle with a style I was experimenting with awhile back! I absolutely see her house being a pink monstrosity.
Neko's getting old
//It has been almost 2 years since I've been here. :3c
pst pst pst. Here kitty kitty~
Neko ears follow the voice first and the rest of him happily follow the call "Nya~?" the cat is now looking up at him
sorry for making you a victim of my brainrot even before your official release, kazuha.
here's another sketch bc i love him
//Also there was a random post that basically tagged everyone while I was away, sorry about that (_ _