with regards to “Freud isnt hard to criticize stop doing it in the shittiest possible ways” i gotta say that some of the notes on this post saying that antisemitic book burnings done by the Nazis “didnt go far enough” falls under that category
I go to take Mac (Asian water monitor) out for a tour and since he’s sopping wet I want to towel him off. My boss gave me a towel with the Minions on it for this task.
So when I’m first taking him out he freezes. I’m thinking, “okay, is he stuck?” and help him down. Then I see he’s clamped onto the towel.
Eh??? Did someone wipe up rat juice with that towel? I thought it was clean. He won’t let go. I holler for my boss. “Oh sorry I forgot.” Forgot what?
“He hates the Minions. He always does that to this towel.”
So I’m explaining to the tour trying not to keel over laughing the reason we can’t take Mac out is because of his hatred for the Minions.
He eventually let go for a cockroach but that was a good 10 minutes of latching and whipping the towel. I feel you, man. I hate them too.
The universe is an ongoing explosion.
That’s where you live.
In an explosion.
Also, we absolutely don’t know what living is.
Sometimes atoms arranged in a certain way just get very haunted.
When an explosion explodes hard enough, dust wakes up and thinks about itself.
And then writes about it.
harrow learning how to make mediocre soup to cope with several attempts on her life after 6 days of no sleep 🤝 me napping on the beanbag chair in the library cuddling a kermit doll while pulling a 48 hour all nighter to finish my undergrad thesis
I have three braincells and they all hold an individual opinion on what is important to draw about Harrow the Ninth?
[id: 3 painted sketches , one is of Gideon holding Harrow over coffeeshop counter, with words“ is this how it fucking happens”, then sketch of a dark-skinned man with unnatually black eyes, in a gamer shirt by Brian David Gilbert, holding “the world’s okayest god” mug and putting a bisquit in it. Then a sketch of Harrow holding two-handed sword in one hand with difficulty. end id]
“Red wrote too much too fast. Her pen had a heart inside, and the nib was a wound in a vein. She stained the page with herself. She sometimes forgets what she wrote, save that it was true, and the writing hurt. But butterfly wings break when touched. Red knows her own weaknesses as well as anyone. She presses too hard, breaks what she would embrace, tears what she would touch to her teeth.”
— this is how you lose the time war
The Price of Stardust
Sometimes. Emma thinks she can feel it. The stardust moving inside her. The one no one paid for. The kind that comes attached to the soul of every newborn. Feels like loose change in her pocket. Like the thick cotton of her socks. But it’s not something people like her can do. It could never be more than wishful thinking. Yearning for what she can’t have. It must be part of it. To have enough of the stars lodged somewhere between her ribs and her heart to wish. Want for nothing in particular. For everything. If she understood it more, with better words. Maybe, maybe. She could put it all away and never think about it again.
Or a Non-Soulmate Soulmate AU where souls are made of stardust and Emma starts feeling the burn of the stars when she is left in charge of the phone one night.
INCREDIBLE ART by: @letitflytoapril
that’s me! :D Go READ the story it’s amazing.