Mossy Mushroomy A-frame Cabin Commission, With Its Little Pals

your playlist guide 101 (writers, readers, etc.)

note: credits go to (ofc) the original artists + compilers

emotional sad

last time together

waiting for the one who doesn't come

pov. heartbroken mermaid

slowly losing grip on reality

fight scenes

instrumental music for writing and fighting

you call it revenge, i call it returning a favour

all thrones come at a cost

comfort

a hogwarts comfort

you're studying with the dead poets society

and suddenly, we were strangers again

before sunrise

tension

realising we're living in a dystopian reality

you built an empire on the streets of birmingham in the 1920s

a little more dark academia

fine, make me your villain (darkling)

pleasingly dancing for your hot enemy in a private room

cool

it's 1998 and you're drifting through tokyo

among all the stars and infinite galaxies, how lucky am i to have met you

we're just used to this already (honkai star rail)

the playlist finds the cool kids

it's an old money summer at your house in europe

all my demons dance through the nighttime

office wave 1986

lost nostalgic

maybe in another life

what it feels like to be a memory

it's summer again, the days are blurring and the nights are sleepless

calm

lost in space

you exist for a reason (dreamcore)

a dreamlike peace

quiet autumn days

the calm before the storm

time periods

"it was not your fault but mine" greek mythology playlist

1920s

1940s

1950s

1970s (marauders)

1980s

1990s (supermodel)

This weekend shall be reserved for sewing

She's so sexy 😭😭😭

Kept the shuttle place open, so you can see her work :)

This is so much better then a electric machine

Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), poem 85 from “The Gardener”, 1914 Translated by the author from the original Bengali. New York: The Macmillan Company.

Dovekie aka Little Auk (Alle alle), family Alcidae, order Charadriiformes, Iceland

Photograph by Christophe Moning

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Today was not a great day. I've just realised that some friendships that I've been trying really hard for a really long time to make them work, just don't. They stopped working somewhere along the way and I, in my foolishness, I thought their intentions were good like mine and I thought they cared as much as I did. I've been blind. I didn't see that they had already made up their mind to not trust, to not care, with their hearts closed. Maybe I forced some things, I try too hard and I care too deeply and I have all this love inside of me, I just have to find the right people. Maybe we are just acquaintances now, and that's ok, maybe it's just a phase, stagnant or declining friendship, but whatever it is I hope I will find someday some people who will reciprocate.

I usually drink cocoa when I'm sad, but I'm not sad, my mind is clear and writings helps, it's the cycle of life, the making and the breaking, the seasons and the death of things.

I'm not ready for a relationship. I need this time alone.

But I long for letters. For discussions about books. Museum visits and afternoons spent in bookshops

For cups of tea and hot chocolate while curled up watching the rain.

For silence, and stillness and holding in front of a fire. The fire wood that we chopped.

Learning and building together.

I want someone capable. Someone calm and strong. Someone caring and kind.

I long for someone that can quiet my mind.

Someone that can keep up with me. That challenges me. That can hold space for me.

I long for someone that will love me for all the wildness of my soul.

Someone not scared by all I have to give.

With him I won't need to be small and tame

The itching to be back in forests and mountains

2 more months

Hiking is the best way to spend your time, seriously.

Mr Darcy is so fucking unsubtle all of the time I truly don't understand how Elizabeth doesn't get it. Someone mentions Elizabeth likes books? Darcy immediately goes into a rant about how he wants a wife that reads. Elizabeth says she wants to live close to her family? Darcy is bending over backwards to figure out how far is too far, would she mind it if she could easily travel back at forth, would she miss the people or the places. My girl he's so down bad, he's just autistic.

If only I ever become rich

The Library of Thorvald Boeck (1902). Harriet Backer (Norwegian, 1845-1932). Oil on canvas. National Gallery, Oslo, Norway.

Olaf Thorvald Boeck (1835-1901) was a Norwegian lawyer, civil servant and book collector. His library was known for its time as the largest private library in Norway. Backer’s painting incorporates only one part of the library.