shinkurea's personal blog | 20↑ | heavy reblogging & not much content-making
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Life is unbearable. Please save my children; I don't want them to die in Gaza. If I don't survive, please don't forget them. Save them after I'm gone.❤️🙏

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@gumseoi ‘s drawing of bootyhill as a shark inspired me to make this 😭 literally 🦈 rawr
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Rook the kinda guy to wake up 3am, notice your bonnet is slipping and fix it
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Malleus 🐉: We need to save this frog from the rain!
Yuu🌙: Malleus….Frogs love water
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Malleus 🐉: We need to save this frog from the rain!
Yuu🌙: Malleus….Frogs love water
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The best quality a fictional man can have is being deeply, pathetically, wretchedly in love with someone, I think
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*Knocks on your door at 1AM*
"Good evening."
Flirting: | Harassment:
When the son visits it means he misses you and wants your company. When the dad visits it means he's there to ask for unpaid labor.
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I love characters that tear themselves apart for something. I love characters that would willfully destroy themselves for their goal. Characters that have moved past the point of caring what happens to them because all that matters is this one goal and it’s fine if they’re destroyed or maimed or anything else because as long as they fulfill that goal they think they’ll be fine.
Even better if they gradually start to doubt this goal. What have I been pouring myself into this entire time? But by now they’re too far gone to stop so like clockwork they just keep walking towards this goal. They’ll constantly destroy themself for this one goal and they can’t change that fate no matter if they can recognize their original goal has been twisted beyond any recognition.
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“With everything that has happened to you, you can either feel sorry for yourself or treat what has happened as a gift. Everything is either an opportunity to grow or an obstacle to keep you from growing. You get to choose.”
— Wayne Dyer
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And speaking of Sophia Tolstoy, her diaries are just so depressing.
“I am to gratify his pleasure and nurse his child, I am a piece of household furniture, I am a woman. I try to suppress all human feelings. When the machine is working properly it heats the milk, knits a blanket, makes little requests and bustles about trying not to think […].“
She wrote this when she was 19, one year into her marriage to Leo and as she was pregnant with the first of his 13 children.
A few years later, when she was 25 or so:
“I am so often alone with my thoughts that the need to write in my diary comes quite naturally … Now I am well again and not pregnant—it terrifies me how often I have been in that condition. He said that for him being young meant “I can achieve anything”. For me […] reason tells me that there is nothing I either want or can do beyond nursing, eating, drinking, sleeping, and loving and caring for my husband and babies, all of which I know is happiness of a kind, but why do I feel so woeful all the time, and weep as I did yesterday? I am writing this now with the pleasantly exciting sense that nobody will ever read it, so I can be quite frank with myself […].“
During her 12th pregnancy she wrote about taking scalding baths and jumping from high pieces of furniture to try and miscarry. And at one point while reading her husband’s diary (which he told her to read) she found the sentence “There is no such thing as love, only the physical need for intercourse and the practical need for a life companion.” In her own diary she wrote “They ebb and flow like waves, these times when I realise how lonely I am and want only to cry…”
A few years before her husband’s death, she published a cycle of prose poems titled “Groans”, under the pseudonym “A Tired Woman”.
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I love when they do these things. it's just little references that give me so much joy
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staff: our april fools joke this year is a silly feature that doesn't really do anything but give you a button to boop other users! they have to opt-in first though :)
me:

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FYI, y'all have my blanket permission to spam me with as many boops as you need to get those cute badges :3

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