꒰ა୨୧𝓗𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼𝓾𝓴𝓸୨୧໒꒱

Kurooo yayayayy ‪@IputABabyInTheOven‬
Can someone give me an idea:>

3 days ago | [YT] | 3,409

꒰ა୨୧𝓗𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼𝓾𝓴𝓸୨୧໒꒱

Idk how da flip my artsyle get changed

1 week ago | [YT] | 7,447

꒰ა୨୧𝓗𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼𝓾𝓴𝓸୨୧໒꒱

Last Tuesday, which technically happened on a Thursday disguised as a Wednesday, I found myself arguing with a ceiling fan about politics, even though the fan only spoke fluent spaghetti. Meanwhile, a confused narwhal wearing a business suit offered me a contract to sell my shoelaces in exchange for unlimited access to the moon’s Wi-Fi, which was tempting but I declined because my left ear had already promised to rent itself out as an Airbnb for passing clouds. At that exact moment, a choir of marshmallows marched through my living room, each one carrying a tiny saxophone and playing the national anthem of an imaginary country called “Pickleland.” The floor then politely turned into soup, forcing me to swim past a chair that was gossiping with a toaster about the secret love life of spoons. Out of nowhere, an octopus riding a bicycle challenged me to a staring contest, and when I blinked, time itself sneezed so loudly that all the calendars in the universe rearranged themselves to spell the word “TACOS.” Of course, this didn’t bother me too much, because my shadow had already signed up for ballet lessons with a cactus who claimed to be my long-lost uncle. By the end of it all, I realized none of this mattered, since I was actually just a dream being dreamt by a pancake who had overslept its alarm clock.
It all began when I woke up inside a refrigerator that wasn’t mine, sipping orange juice through a straw that screamed every time I bent it. Outside, the walls were covered in calendars from the year 3025, but every single date was labeled “Wednesday.” A pair of goldfish wearing business suits tapped on the fridge door, demanding rent in the form of interpretive dance. I paid them by humming the sound of triangles.
Stepping outside, I discovered the neighborhood had been replaced by an endless desert of pancakes, each one stacked so high it tickled the clouds. A lone ostrich handed me a map, but the map was blank except for a drawing of a potato holding a sword. “This is your destiny,” the ostrich whispered before turning into a filing cabinet and filing itself away alphabetically under the letter Q. Walking aimlessly, I stumbled across a park bench giving a TED Talk to a group of pigeons about the emotional trauma of being sat on. The pigeons nodded seriously and took notes with pens that wrote only in lemon juice. I tried to sit on the bench, but it yelled at me to “respect its narrative arc” and handed me a coupon for free existential dread at the nearest taco stand. By then, the sun had clocked out of work and been replaced by a giant lightbulb dangling from the sky on a string of spaghetti. Every time it flickered, gravity forgot how to operate, and people floated around reciting poetry in reverse. A passing librarian drifted by, shushing the wind, while the clouds coughed politely into handkerchiefs made of invisible silk. Suddenly, a vending machine rolled up on rollerblades, asking if I wanted to purchase “eternal confusion” for three acorns and a slightly used kazoo. I declined, so it spat out a raccoon wearing sunglasses, who immediately challenged me to a game of chess using gummy bears as pieces. The raccoon won instantly because the board set itself on fire halfway through and declared victory on his behalf. At last, I reached a door in the middle of nowhere. The doorknob introduced itself as Gerald and asked if I had an appointment. I lied and said yes, so Gerald opened up to reveal a room where bananas were giving lectures about quantum gravity to an audience of folding chairs. I sat down, ready to learn something important, but then realized I didn’t understand banana-speak. Just as I raised my hand to ask a question, everything melted into a puddle of rainbow static, and I woke up again inside the same refrigerator, drinking the same screaming straw. I woke up to the sound of my curtains arguing with my alarm clock about whether or not Tuesday even exists. The alarm clock insisted Tuesday was real because it had once shaken hands with it, but the curtains argued that Tuesday was just Monday wearing fake glasses. I tried to mediate, but every time I opened my mouth, alphabet soup spilled out and rearranged itself into bad haikus. When I finally stood up, the floor had turned into bubble wrap. Each step popped loudly enough to summon squirrels in business suits carrying briefcases full of peanut butter. They circled me, chanting stock prices backward until one of them sneezed and exploded into confetti. I picked up a piece of confetti, and it whispered, “The ducks know too much.” Naturally, I put on my shoes, but the left shoe insisted on facing north while the right shoe demanded to face west. After ten minutes of negotiation, we agreed to walk diagonally into the kitchen, where the refrigerator was crying because it had forgotten its own name. I comforted it by giving it a hug, but my arms went right through, and suddenly I was transported to a giant chessboard floating in outer space. On the chessboard, the pawns were hosting a barbecue. Instead of burgers, they were grilling encyclopedias and serving them with ketchup made of melted time. A bishop approached me with a plate and asked if I preferred my dictionary medium rare or well done. Before I could answer, the queen skateboarded across the board screaming, “TAXES ARE JUST A SUGGESTION!” and vanished into a wormhole made of cotton candy. I decided to follow the wormhole, which tasted faintly of blueberries and disappointment, and ended up in a forest where every tree was upside down. Their roots stretched into the sky, sipping sunlight through straws shaped like saxophones. Birds flew backward, singing songs about furniture, while squirrels knitted scarves for clouds. I asked one squirrel the time, and it handed me a pineapple with a sticky note that read: “LATE.” At the center of the forest, I discovered a vending machine that only dispensed vague emotions. I inserted a coin, and it gave me a small jar labeled “Unearned Nostalgia.” I opened it, and suddenly I missed all the times I’d never eaten spaghetti underwater. The feeling was overwhelming, so I closed the jar and stuffed it into my pocket, where it hummed lullabies about taxidermy. Continuing on, I encountered a river flowing upward into the sky. A canoe floated by, rowed by two penguins in cowboy hats. They invited me to join, but warned me that the river was haunted by ghosts of forgotten Wi-Fi passwords. I climbed aboard, and sure enough, the air was filled with faint whispers like “Banana123” and “ILoveShrek69.” The penguins nodded solemnly, as if carrying the weight of humanity’s secrets. When we reached the top of the river, we found ourselves on a floating island shaped exactly like a left shoe. Here, a parliament of frogs debated whether sandwiches should legally be classified as clouds. The debate grew heated when one frog produced a sandwich made of lightning bolts, which immediately exploded into applause. The speaker of the parliament, a frog wearing monocles on every toe, declared the discussion unresolved and adjourned the meeting. I wandered off the island and stumbled into a carnival run entirely by mirrors. The rides spun in reverse, and every reflection showed me doing things I had never done, like juggling microwaves or tap dancing on Saturn. I bought cotton candy from a mirror that looked suspiciously like me but with better posture. It told me, “Don’t trust spoons,” then handed me a balloon filled with invisible bees. Suddenly, the sky folded in half like a sheet of paper, and reality slipped into a different font. Everything became italicized, including my thoughts. A marching band of raccoons paraded past, playing instruments made of breadsticks, while the moon leaned closer and asked me politely if I had spare change for laundry. I reached into my pocket and handed it the jar of nostalgia, which the moon swallowed whole before burping in Morse code. After the moon’s Morse code burp echoed across the sky, the ground beneath me decided it was tired of being horizontal and tilted itself at a 37-degree angle. I slid downward until I collided with a mailbox that was screaming Shakespearean sonnets. When I opened it, instead of letters, out flew a swarm of origami turtles, each holding a fortune cookie. I cracked one open, and it read: “Your shoelaces will betray you at dawn.” Shaken but intrigued, I wandered onward until I encountered a grocery store that sold only metaphors. I picked up a jar labeled “Time is a flat circle” and a loaf of bread marked “Silence thicker than soup.” At the counter, the cashier who was just three raccoons in a trench coat refused my money and instead demanded I tell them a bedtime story about elevators. I complied, and the raccoons wept uncontrollably before giving me a coupon for 40% off existential dread. Exiting the store, I tripped over a traffic cone that hissed at me and claimed to be my lawyer. The cone reminded me that I still owed rent to the pigeons from earlier. I panicked, but then a kangaroo wearing rollerblades showed up, shoved the cone into its pouch, and skated away singing opera. I thanked the kangaroo, but it just winked and whispered, “Remember: the spoons are listening.” I soon found myself in a city where every building was made of toast. Butter dripped down the windows, and jam oozed from the rooftops. Cars honked in bread-crumb Morse code, while the traffic lights alternated between “YEET” and “NOPE.” A police officer made entirely of marmalade stopped me and asked for identification. I handed over my jar of nostalgia, and after sniffing it, the officer let me go with a stern warning

1 week ago (edited) | [YT] | 1,104

꒰ა୨୧𝓗𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼𝓾𝓴𝓸୨୧໒꒱

For you candies>:D (This love can be eaten trust)

2 weeks ago | [YT] | 5,503

꒰ა୨୧𝓗𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼𝓾𝓴𝓸୨୧໒꒱

vt.tiktok.com/ZSSwUgrwT/

2 weeks ago | [YT] | 622

꒰ა୨୧𝓗𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼𝓾𝓴𝓸୨୧໒꒱

I'm bored

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2 weeks ago | [YT] | 5,830