#and Henry is Henry

[dorkydiaz]

Rwrb Marketing: enemies to lovers!

Rwrb in reality: absolute fucking idiots to lovers

[baby-girl-aaron-dessner]

Art by: Henry James Garrett

[itsgonnagetinspiringsoon]

FUCK

[rainbowthefox]

Im so sorry but this is the funniest fucking thing

[duchessripper]

“why do you still use tumblr?”

listen— i have to keep track of my hyper fixations somehow

[bruhstation]

you’re just like the rest of them

[chloesimaginationthings]

You know Henry’s final speech went hard in FNAF

[avastazyana]

'Transformers One' Cast Answer 50 of the Most Googled Transformers Questions (x)

[thebookbutterfly]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

[whimsifae]

the five homoerotic love languages:

- intimate stabbing

- outright obsession

- confused pining

- "no one knows me like you do"

- lifelong promises that always sound suspiciously like wedding vows

[jovoy]

sometimes you guys are extremely strange but i have to forgive you because to me mutualship is like catholic marriage where you have to put up with weird bullshit forever amd you cant get a divorce no matter what

[pearwaldorf]

This is some cold-ass shit. As President, Biden has to say something. But he can say it in a way that says nothing and everything.

I want to shake the hand of the staffer that wrote this because this is absolutely fucking superb.

I know we (in general but especially neuroatypicals) prefer things to be clear and straightforward. But occasionally, you can do things in full view of the world like this. And that's kind of incredible.

[bornandbredginger]

ALEX

[fluidstatick]

When I was little, my dad hired a Cambodian refugee called Jack to help him drywall a dining room ceiling. Jack spoke very little English; he'd recently gotten a part time job in a little Asian deli not far from our home and needed to pick up some extra work. He was very kind to six year old me and my exhausted mom; he brought us day old leftovers from the deli counter often, and liked to tuck the knuckle of his index finger into the dimple in my cheek whenever I smiled at him.

He soaked up construction skills and other information like a sponge, and by the time he left my dad's tiny construction company he'd gotten his GED, learned to drive, reunited with his sister and her family, and had begun remodeling a vacant business on the rich side of town into a Cambodian restaurant. He invited us to their grand opening on lunar new year, and I'll never forget when he gave me a red envelope with five dollars in it and told me, "tonight I am the luckiest man in the world, so this will bring you luck, too."

Years later, my dad told me that Jack had witnessed his parents' murder during the khmer rouge, and was immediately separated from his sister. He had to cross the killing fields at Choeung Ek alone, on foot, eating grass and insects to survive. He somehow made it to Cam Ranh on the coast of Vietnam, where a distant friend of his father's put him on a boat to Seattle. Jack was nine years old.

I tell this story because, even though I haven't seen Jack or any of his relatives in thirty years, I pray he's well and happy and eating like a king tonight with everyone he loves, celebrating the long overdue demise of the pestilential sonofabitch who tried to wipe them out.

Fuck Henry Kissinger's pathetic ghost, and fuck all those who praise him. Fuck Imperialism. Fuck the genocidal war machine. Drink deep for the freedom of all souls tonight, my friends. And tomorrow, keep fighting.

[fantastic-nonsense]