Yesterday I Almost Cried Because My Baby Cousin Ran Up To My Grandmother And Was Like. “Ha! Buhbuh

hope is a skill

Certain words can change your brain forever and ever so you do have to be very careful about it.

"nothing is real atoms never touch each other youve never touched anything in your life" ok. well when i pet my dog he is soft and when he licks my hand it is wet and that is far more real to me than whatevers going on at an atomic level

i wasn't gonna post anything about this because i'm not active in the good omens fandom, but yknow what, i'm gonna say it:

as someone who's aroace, i have very mixed feelings about the ending.

it's always fun and cool to get canon queer relationships, so like everyone else, i'm super excited! but while i'm happy about that, i'm also a bit sad, because it almost feels like i got my queer rep taken away. before the kiss, their relationship wasn't romantic or sexual, but it was still undeniably more than platonic. to see a relationship on tv that existed outside society's rigid boxes of strictly 'friends' or 'lovers' was so wonderful for me. for one of the first times in my life, i saw people like me, and i saw a relationship like the kind i want: something in between, that nobody else seems to understand what it really is, except us. (something ineffable, if you will.)

and i got that taken away. so while i genuinely am really excited, i'm also sad. i'm feeling very both, and i just wanted to put that out there because i'm really only seeing people talk about the former, but rarely acknowledging the latter.

why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?

If you see this you’re legally obligated to reblog and tag with the book you’re currently reading

A co-worker of mine was standing outside with me during a break from customers to share a cigarette with me, and told me about how he had lost his brother that he was close with some years ago. He told me about how they used to be in a band together with some friends, and how ever since he'd died, he hadn't played any music because he'd been too scared and anxious. I told him about how I'd lost my brother to suicide some years ago.

I went home and pulled out an old tiny wooden box my brother had given me before he'd died. I'd been using it to store guitar picks I'd collected over the years, including one guitar pick that used to be his. I haven't played the guitar since he'd died, my hands are too small to play some of the chords, so I play bass and piano instead.

I went to work the next day and gifted my brothers old guitar pick to my co-worker. I told him that it'd been sitting in a box for ten years unused, and would probably sit there for longer if I kept it there. Told him that I thought he deserved to have it, because I bet he could put it to better use than I ever would. Told him I didn't feel like it was coincidence that me and him would cross paths with each other in our lives, and that it seemed suiting that we had these similar experiences but split in two halves. That somehow, I felt like he was meant to have the guitar pick. I told him that I knew he'd not played guitar since his brother died, but that if he ever decided to play again one of these days, maybe he'd be able to honor both of our brothers by using that guitar pick.

He almost cried. He thanked me. Then he went home that night and for the first time in years he played the guitar.

I don't know what the meaning of life is or what my purpose is, but I do believe that love and human connection is one of the most important things in life. It's finding ways to tell strangers you love them and share experiences with others. I think it's all just about love.

This is a story I've been trying to tell for a long time and every time I try, I find I don't yet have the words for what has happened inside me, because nothing has happened inside me, except that a door long locked has been opened.

The short version of the story is that 14 months ago, I rewatched Good Omens, and then watched it again another six times, and then read a lot of fanfiction, and then wrote a lot of meta. The short version is that six months ago, I watched Heartstopper, and then watched it another 24 times (I kept count), and then, after all that, I was bisexual.

The short version of the story is that for a long time, I believed so deeply that it wasn't meant for me, that it never occurred to me. Until stories asked, but what if it was allowed?

tbh i dont get why most people assume that robots are always cold

like have u felt a laptop while its working? its kinda not exactly cold yo

tbh any piece of machinery thats working hard to function is usually not cold, the only time its ever cold is when its turned off

so id like to think while a robot is awake and functioning they could have the potential to be as warm as a human being :0