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

I've been struggling with this for so long.

Even with thousands of notes on my posts here, I'm not entirely sure if people like the creativity or the style I put into art

Reblog if I’m allowed to send you in character asks even if we have never talked before.

b l a c k a n d w h i t e o n l y

Today's Seal Is: Peeking...

Shape of the Heart

Broken, missing pieces that once were there

Your heart has been torn before, chipped and maybe even shattered. Some pieces will never be recovered, and you are shaped by the loss. But it can still be shaped into something tangible, something good, even with its flaws and imperfections. You don’t have to do all the work of rebuilding by yourself. Allow other hands to leave their fingerprints on the new heart you create from the remnants.

Wanja's response to quiz results - " Uhhhh.... I dunno if dis be realleh about meh, or some kinda trick, or someting... Like yeh, I stumble a lot, but I alwehs get up and stuff, it ain't alwehs alone. I gawts peoples dat offah a 'elping 'and all da time, and I take ets and stuff. Maybeh da first part a leetle bit be true, but da last... I dun like doing anehting alone. " He laughed there at the end with a bright and big lopsided smile.

Tagged by : @unabashedrebel

You know how Grian is bird coded and you know how he canonically has unnaturally big dark eyes?

I posit: potoo!Grian

Grian after getting a tnt stack kill in the life series:

I’m convinced these creatures is where alien greys come from.... A human wandering the woods hears strange sounds and sees something like this staring back at them in the dark. It can't be real, can't be explained, can it?

As someone who has mispronounced so many words because I never actually heard them. I appreciate this post

Gestures: Zordin

BOLD ➝  always   /  usually  applies ITALIC ➝  only  applies  situationally   /   sometimes  .

DEFENSIVENESS.    

arms  crossed  on  chest  /   crossing  legs  /  fist-like  gestures   /  pointing  index  finger  /   karate  chops   /   stiffening  of  shoulders /   tense  posture /  curling  of  lip    /  baring  of  teeth .

REFLECTIVE.    

hand  to  face  gestures   /   head  tilted   /   stroking chin  /  peering  over   glasses   /   taking  glasses  off —  cleaning   /   putting  earpiece  of  glasses  in  mouth   /   pipe smoker  gestures   /   putting  hand  to  the  bridge  of  nose   /   pursed  lips /  knitted  brows  .

SUSPICION.     arms  crossed  /   sideways  glance /   touching  or  rubbing  nose   /  rubbing  eyes   /   hands  resting  on  weapon  /  brows  rising  /   lips  pressing  into  a  thin  line   /   strict  unwavering  eye  contact  /   wrinkling  of  nose  .

OPENNESS  +  COOPERATION.    

open  hands   /   upper  body  in  sprinters  position  /   sitting  on  the  edge  of  a  chair /   hand-to-face gestures   /   unbuttoned  coat   /  tilted  head   /   slacked  shoulders  /   droopy  posture   /   feet  pointed  outward /   palms  flat  and  facing  outward .

CONFIDENCE.    

hands  behind  back  /   hands  on  lapels  of  coat   /   steepled  hands   /  barring  teeth  in  a  grin /   rolling  shoulders  /   tipping  head  back  but  maintaining  eye  contact   /   chest  puffed  up   /   shoulders  back /   arms  folded  just  above  navel  .

INSECURITY  +  ANXIETY.  

chewing  pen  or  pencil  /   rubbing  thumb  over  opposite  thumb   /   biting  fingernails   /   hands  in  pockets   /   elbow  bent   /   closed  gestures   /   clearing  throat   /   pacing    /    “ whew ”  sound   /  picking  or  pinching  flesh   /   fidgeting  in  chair  /   hand  covering  mouth  whilst  speaking   /   poor  eye  contact  /   tugging  at  pants  whilst  seated   /   jingling  money  in  pockets   /   tugging  at  ear  /   perspiring  hands /   playing  with  hair    /  swaying   /   playing  with  pointer   /   smacking  lips   /   sighing   /   rocking  on  balls  of  feet  /   flexing  fingers  sporadically  .

FRUSTRATION.  

short  breaths   /   “ tsk ”  sounds /   tightly  clenched  hands /   fist-like  gestures   /   pointing  index  finger   /  running  hand  through  hair   /   rubbing  back  of  neck  /   snarling   /   revealing  teeth   /   grimacing   /    sharp-eyed glowers  with  notable  tension  in  brows   /   shoulders  back  , head  up   /   defensive  posturing  /   clenching  of  jaw   /   grinding  of  teeth  /   nostrils  flaring  /   heavy  exhales  .

Tagged by @Holy-star

Writer Issues

Writers Corner for more writing memes.

@fizzyxcustard @nildespirandum @peppa-pig

@piggledy-higgledy 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Its obvious to me when people who post about canaries in mines have never met a canary. Like yeah the miners had a special device to revive the canary because canaries are one of the most adorable creatures on the planet and they make adorable little chirping sounds and honestly probably loved the sounds of machinery and people talking so it was probably loud and friendly with the workers. Whatever though maybe meet a canary sometime and youd understand

If you see this animal every day at work, and it sings to you during your hardest bouts of labor, you will be distraught if it dies. Even if you know this creature is meant to die in lieu of you, you still hear it when the labor is at its hardest and your muscles are struggling against the weight of your work. It is so small, smaller than your soot-stained hands and louder than the death that follows you. You dont want it to die. The same as a woman does not want her candle to run out ; she knows that is the point, its flame is meant to burn the wick and melt the wax ; but she is not indifferent to its wasting away. She may even save her favorite candle as not to burn it too quickly. Now imagine you are that woman, and there is a way to rebuild your favorite candle that you love the smell of and the way it flickers. Would she rather throw her candle out? Or would she rebuild it? That is a canary to these miners. Would you allow an animal to just die when it has been singing for you? It reminds you that it is alive, and you are too. Its stop of song signifies the lethal danger you are in. Why abandon it? Is the miners' love for a little bird really that surprising?

Why does this read as though written by a coal miner of the era in which a canary was needed.

Because time is an illusion and love is infinite