#food and water is love

[jenjenthevirgo]

Wish somebody’s some where could share this post with the Swedes. Cuz, I remember back when during Sweden-gate, so many Scandinavians were confused over how the world was upset with their cultural norm of not offering ANY food (snack, bite or meal) to an unplanned visit from or invited houseguest.

It’s not about the food—it’s the humanity. It’s the understanding that someone came all this way and you don’t know how much further they have left to go but here’s a helping hand.

The LEAST one can do in showing their love for a fellow human being and offering some food.

Food is the universal unifier of ppl from all walks of life going back centuries.

I hate when people say ohhhh your pets only love you because you feed them. as if that wasn't the first form of love any of us felt. get real.

[frenchublog]

[suslucicek]

[greenlaut]

tea & dates

continuation of bitter tea & oranges

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji might be an unstoppable force, but Xie Lian has 800+ years of practice of being an immovable object.

(poll results here for context)

[jedi-starbird]

fellas. fellas. listen. qui-gon does express affection towards obi-wan, he just does it in the divorced dad way.

that's his love language, despite never having been married, divorced or had a kid.

[quesadilla-day]

delicious jade 😋yummy yummy 😍

[mblue-art]

*angry duck noises*

hey, little guy, what's wrong?

[inkskinned]

as we enter the start of a semester and the dreaded Hour of Making Friends us upon us... if ur ever at a loss for what to say in one of those weird social situations where you only vaguely-know people, one of my favorite questions to ask is "what is your favorite food crime." a food crime is like the food combination that you love that other people find revolting. press them to take it further than pineapple on pizza, that's rote. food crimes is a good topic that has many benefits as it turns out all people are degenerates and also it will give you some cool ideas to try out later in the privacy of your own degenerate kitchen

the other good thing to ask is "okay but has anyone here ever been someplace haunted" bc it turns out if you ask most people directly they don't believe in ghosts, but many people are like "oh yeah i lived in a haunted house. ghosts aren't real tho"

[somesillywriter]

reminder that (when safe) it’s okay to do things that make your symptoms worse sometimes. it’s okay to stay up late talking to a friend and be exhausted tomorrow. it’s okay to go for a walk and be in pain later. as long as it’s safe and reasonable, you’re allowed to make it a bit worse to bring yourself joy.

joy is important, too.

[jazzy-a]

After Ody gets home and, of course, slaughters all the suitors and reunites with his wife and son, that man absolutely sat down with a council and immediately pulled out schematics, like:

"Cool, cool. So, first things first: We're building new temples for Athena and Hermes. What? Placement? Oh, yeah... Just knock down the Poseidon one. It's fine. I stabbed that God, like, 20 times into submission. Pretty sure that means the ocean is my b*tch now....And f*ck that guy anyways, am I right? So, for Athena's temple, I'm definitely thinking blue✨-"

[shirecorn]

Tumblr keeps popping up to sell me ad free dashboard. But what it doesn't understand is that me and the ads have a sort of symbiosis at this point.

The guys from the fake gameplay trailers for a predatory mobile app are my blorbos

[sun-e-chips]

They’re so smug about teasing the angry orca man I love it!

Enemies to lovers and big women/y/n my biggest weakness!!!!!!!!

Had to draw this scene from @naffeclipse ‘s eating krill au with humpback y/n and orca eclipse >:)

(I know this isn’t the actual size ratio but it was funnier for the bit i had to!)

[plant-ago]

An Open Letter to Dan and Phil

Dear beloved nerds,

This was originally going to be an (even longer) actual letter that I was going to give to you at the tour, but my nonprofit-employed ass can’t afford a meet and greet, so we’re doing this instead. I promise it’s not just trauma dumping— mostly, it’s about saying thank you and trying to cultivate some hope for all of us.

I’ve been a big fan since around 2014, when I was a mentally ill neurotic deeply repressed loner egg (average phannie, let's be honest). Now I’m a whole adult who got therapy and HRT and has joined the legions of transmascs with the Dan Howell haircut! What a legacy.

I’m making jokes because the thing I actually want to talk about, and the reason I decided to make this an open letter, is kind of serious. But in light of the election, I feel like I need to share this, both with you and with all the other queers in this little corner of the internet.

Here’s the gist: I’m a paralegal at a non-profit organization that works to help queer migrants get asylum. Mostly what I do is sit them down in our nasty sterile office and try to be kind, and help them get through telling me all the most terrible things that have happened to them, and then turn around and pare it all down into legalese that is digestible to the government to make the case they should get asylum.

It’s a horrible job, really, and one that shouldn’t have to exist. Some parts are plainly wonderful, like meeting so many queer people from all walks of life. But it’s also heartrending and difficult, and burnout is always looming. My horrible banal work is often literally a matter of life and death for the client, and I’m fighting a broken system for a chance at giving them the happiness and safety is owed to them by international law and, really, by any decent human standard, should never have been in question.

The thing is—and this is reason to hope—queer people really do exist everywhere, no matter how much repression and violence we face. In a tiny village in Colombia, there's a kid who’s all spit and vinegar, dresses like a boy and plays football and fights anyone who says that they can’t, who grows up wiry and gets black eyes because men still can’t handle getting their asses handed to them on the soccer field by a dyke. This client texts me at my work number sometimes to ask if I’ve eaten that day, because they wanted to check in on me. He asked me to call him by a boy’s name, recently. I don’t know that he’s told anyone else. I open every message I send him with "Hola, James."

Then there’s the sweet, babyfaced college freshman who got death threats when he was outed to his classmates back home, and whose parents kicked him out when he refused to marry a girl to protect the family's reputation, leaving him alone in a foreign country. He was couch surfing and just trying not to miss class so he could keep his student status and he was so conscientious I wanted to cry— he’s eighteen, guys. Eighteen. I’ll get him his papers or so help me fucking God I will kill for him. You know? You know. After that meeting I had to sit at my desk with my notebook and fill an entire blank page with the phrase “he’s just a kid,” over and over again, until I felt like I could breathe.

On a Friday morning recently I get up and open my laptop to interpret on a call with a soft-spoken older trans woman who's sat in the bleak phone room of the ICE detention facility because her immigration judge didn’t believe that she was really transgender. “An odor of mendacity pervades everything the respondent says,” the judge wrote in her ruling, where she determined the client wasn't "credible." To this day I’m still floored that she straight up ripped off Tennessee Williams—new frontiers in bigotry, truly. She didn’t even cite. In our meeting now, the client quietly tells us how hard it was when she came out but how happy she was the first time she wore makeup, and she'd rather stay in detention here for indeterminate years as proceedings spiral on than go back to Guatemala, where they'll kill her—boys, if I ever get within spitting distance of this fuckass judge, it is on SIGHT. Absolutely fucking ON SIGHT. For legal purposes, that was a JOKE.

So I finish the call and get up to get a snack. It’s only ten am but feel tired already because I’m angry, which is not unusual but also not something I want to hold onto, because it doesn't help anything. So I make some toast and look at my phone— two texts, which I ignore, a spam email, and, wouldn't you know it, a YouTube notification from Dan and Phil games! Jarring! That’s just sort of how life is though, isn’t it? Deathly serious and lighthearted in the same breath.

But regardless, seeing the notification makes me feel warm, so I have my toast and watch a little video of you two playing Roblox or dress up or whatever it is you do on that channel these days. I have a good giggle and I finish my toast and go back to my desk. It’s a crucial part of my diet really— the giggles, not the toast. I’m not angry anymore. I’ll be angry again, but for now my cortisol levels are manageable and I can put my head back into emails or whatever the fuck. Do you ever think about how plants make food for free out of sunlight but we sit around writing emails all day? And that’s if we’re lucky. Capitalism is hell.

Anyway, there is a point I am trying to make, and it’s not really about the banal horrors of neoliberal nation-state or capitalism or even homophobia. It’s to say thank you for coming back to make silly videos together, because I love them, and you never fail to make me happy. And yeah, maybe something about the story of that scared eighteen-year-old kid at the front of my mind makes it particularly sweet to watch you two goofing off and being openly queer. It reminds me why I’m doing what I’m doing, and it gives me the strength to send another fucking email because sometimes doing “important work that I value and believe in deeply” means having to send another fucking email. And sometimes I’ll rewatch your older videos, and then come back to the more recent ones, and my heart bruises, because you remind me what I’m fighting for and why. It’s nothing grandiose, it’s just— for queer people to get to have the ability to grow into themselves and be outrageous and silly and make mistakes and to love and be loved for who they are. To have the safety and support and security that no one should ever go without. That’s all.

So I am being dead serious when I say thank you for making top-tier light entertainment, and for coming back to a job that wasn’t always kind to you, and that it does actually matter. All this talk about terrible influences and legacies has made me think that sometimes you doubt whether you do good in the world, so let me be clear: you really, really do. I kind of get the sense that in order to accept sincerity Dan needs to be beat over the head with it, so if that’s the case, consider yourself coerced, you dickhead. You matter to me, and especially in times like these, I think I speak for all of us when I say that the joy you share is a precious and treasured gift. So please accept my gratitude in return.

All my love,

Jules

(I removed or changed all identifying information in this letter to protect privacy, but the stories are real).

[quirkwall]

Finally got the second romance scene with Lucanis and... This man made Rook a hazelnut torte. To go with the coffee. Why is Lucanis such an ideal man. Assassin on the streets then takes his coat off and becomes the most domestic, sweet househusband to ever live.

[irishmammonagenda]

"Micheal. Who is that child?" You ask from the doorway where the Archangel and a pale girl bead rosary necklaces. You blink slowly as Michael turns his head to you and grabs the child into a hug.

"Her name is Luce. I would die for her." He says with all the might of the Celestial Realm itself.

"Ciao!" The girl grins, she looks like a Catholic Coraline, with a muddy yellow raincoat and bright blue hair to match.

"Huh."

Noticing your confusion Michael hums, "She's Italian, MC. She's also my new favourite person ever."

The girl just hums and continues her rosary making activity, counting ten beads before carefully bringing them through the string. Michael watches in adoration, looking five seconds away from whipping out the adoption papers.

He grabs his DDD, muttering something about 'getting his duolingo game on' and 'polishing up that Italian'.

You whistle and slowly back away, you might have pacts with all Seven Lords of Hell, and have Solomon the Wise, Barbatos, the Grim Reaper and the literal Prince of Hell wrapped around your finger, but Luce has the power of God and Anime on her side.

Finally, a worthy opponent. You just need to find out how to adopt her from Michael, and also start up a duolingo course in Italian.