#all functions

[omegasmileyface]

realizing that sticking to the "do it bad" "do it scared" mentality implies theres also a "do it bored"

[breelandwalker]

You have been visited by the Badger of Executive Function!

May this tenacious beastie grant you the strength to break through whatever is holding you back from completing that important task you've been meaning to get to, and the energy and motivation to

Do The Fucking Thing.

[ardri-na-bpiteog]

Also increasingly aware that a LOT of people "manage" getting through the 40+ hour work week by sleeping less than is healthy and relying on stimulants like coffee and energy drinks to keep them going.

For people who are unwilling or unable to do this...work really does just dominate your life. Like we really should not have to rely on unhealthy practices just to have a social life or keep on top of housework or whatever.

I know I post about this a lot but I'm so TIRED all the time and it's just so depressing that this is how we're expected to spend the one life we have.

[lazylittledragon]

glorious ovulation pt 2 :'))

(continuation of this)

[mochasucculent]

Was looking at refs and since Viktor has two different leg braces I was wondering, do we think he wears them simultaneously?? The refs don't perfectly line up perspective-wise so it's hard to tell but parts of the one he wears during the Hexcore scenes look like they could maybe line up with the brace that he wears over his clothes, but also some parts really don't and look like they'd be super uncomfy. Also HOW does he take these on and off. Experts weigh in

[stemmmm]

the scene people keep screaming about from chapter 5 of theseus' guide

[chiropteracupola]

everybody say THANK YOU MUSEUMS WHO PUT THEIR COLLECTIONS ONLINE so that we can DRAW THE THINGS WITHOUT BEING IN LONDON

[inkskinned]

it killed you to grow up there, in the dark like that, with nothing but the bones of your childhood. they punished every version of you that wasn't a god. forced sainthood into saturdays and now when you're out in the sun, your hands shake. your breathing puffing into cold mornings, alone in your room, wondering how you could be so broken and yet never have anyone notice the break.

in the dream of that house, you sometimes remember meals and silence and long hallways and your hand cramping over your homework. you sometimes remember the yelling or the limegreen falsehood veneer your parents could construct in the presence of guests. mostly you remember the way time seeped through you, dripped onto everything, how the words it'll get better felt like an arrow through your chest.

you would lay in bed and hope for death with the same fantasy air as romance, picturing a glorious coffin. sometimes you'd picture a dramatic end or a tragic illness that would sweep you away. but mostly you pictured some kind of strange miracle; that you'd go to sleep and simply never have to deal with that again.

when you got out, you had to burn the atmosphere to escape. these days you reside on another planet entirely: one bright and full of lights and color and friends and spice and laughter.

and still sometimes when people say summer, you still remember the back deck. you still remember building a castle. you still remember the birds. when you lay yourself down at night - some part of you still whispers about catacombs, and the dark, and the bones.

some version of you is still resting in that tomb, after all. some version of you will always see the outline of that place and say that's where we used to call home.

[inkpotsprite]

It's things like this that make me love him.

[unsung-idiot]

way to ruin the mood

[hyruling]

maddie, probably, next episode: so he just…brought chris home and said he was mean to you and now everything is ok?

buck:

[cup-o-stars]

Happy B-Day to the Corasante!! ❤🕯🎂🕯❤

(Featuring way too many drawings)

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

I'm sorry for the cruelty of this picture, but I couldn't see Amina and not share her story. Trigger warning: eye injury (bloody eyes).

Amina Ghanem, 13 years old, says: We were sleeping and we heard the sound of tanks when they came and walked over the caravan in which I, my father and my siblings lived. The tank squeezed us inside the tin all night, and we were ran over, until the morning. And when they finally let us out, I found that my father and my little sister have been killed. Now we've been brought here.

She tells her story in this video with her little brother beside her. They're all on their own. Their mother is outside of Gaza and cannot get in or get them out. They have no way of communication, their father and sister are killed.

The eyewitness of Genocide.

[siriuslylantsov]

spencer starts trying to tone down his rambling in the workplace in efforts to look more professional

but he can't just not go down a rabbithole when he starts thinking

so he starts sending you voicemails whenever he feels the urge to start chattering

literally 3-5 minutes of a windy did you know ramble

then it's see you tonight :) and he hangs up

“hey, angel.” 

his voice rings out through your phone's speaker. you can almost see him as he speaks–his hand shielding the mic to eliminate any external noise while he frantically explains whatever's on his mind today.

you set your phone up nearby, turning the volume up enough so you can hear it while you go about your menial tasks of brushing your teeth and making the bed.

you opt for his voice instead of your playlist during your commute to work—softer now, a quiet murmur through your headphones. you can hear the hum of the jet, the muffled conversation from his team, followed by a sharp reid that brings his ramblings to a screeching halt, promising to continue in the next one. (he does, picking up exactly where he left off.)

the messages accumulate throughout the day, filling your inbox. you should be more worried about the capacity and the possibility that you might miss messages from other people, but he's the only one who ever leaves you any. who even uses voicemail anymore?

they become your personal podcast, taking up far too much storage on your phone. you’ve saved every single one. they help when he's away and you miss him. you replay them more than you’d like to admit–you’ve nearly got them all memorised.

[analog-television]

So like. Not what you'd consider "cold" just in general, but rather specifically for where YOU live (for example: 6c/43f might be considered "cold" if you live in Florida). I see a lot of Tumblr users defending the cold on here, so I'm wondering what temperatures they're actually talking about. For me anyway "cold" automatically translates to be anything below freezing - but I'm not fully convinced that 90% of Tumblr is Actually yearning for below freezing temps.

(My ideal temperature range is around 10c-20c, but a bit below 10c can be nice and refreshing as well. Above 20c depends on what I'm doing - and anything above 25c is too much.)

[lilybug-02]

oh no.

Bug Fact: American Sign Language for "bug/insect" is made by signing the number "3" , placing your thumb to your nose, and bending your index and middle fingers twice. Pictured Below!

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