his name was Cole
Happy Weed Day friends.
happy Thursday the 20th
Jonah Magnus sent that twink to get vored by a taxi because he felt threatened in his position as everyone's sugarbaby.
so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god
Y’ALL HAVE TIME TO REBLOG THIS. IT TAKES LESS THAN FIVE SECONDS.
Anyways when I was sixteen I wrote a story about a spaceship's communications officer (think Uhura) who was given a brain implant when he was a baby that automatically translates every language in the universe, but which interferes with his ability to perceive and process subtle changes in tone. He hears an emotionless automated translator voice inside his head rather than hearing the real voices being physically carried by air vibrations. So he has the ability to interpret every word in every language, but he can never interpret tone of voice. And the ultimate message of the story is that understanding every possible text isn't enough -- if you don't understand subtext, you'll be isolated. The "communications officer" actually struggles to communicate more than anyone else on the ship.
You'll never guess what they diagnosed me with a year later.
Today it’s been 9 years since Terry Pratchett left us…
We miss you 🤍
When my time is up, have I done enough? Will they tell my story?