atlas-prime

[atlas-prime]

One of my roommates is from China and neither of us speaks the other’s language but lately when she’s in a chatty mood she comes into our kitchen and shows me these douyin Matt Damon x Ben Affleck RPF videos and puts her theories about how Ben has been pining for Matt into google translate for me to read. fujoing out transcends language barriers

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Lowkey you can tell when a pride flag was made before or after their primary use shifted to Online. The way colors display digitally vs as a physical object etc. Also if you need ten different extremely specific shades of the same color that's wildly impractical. Remember when people were discoursing about that gayboy flag having a meaningful difference depending on if it was slightly more blue or greenish

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haha thats so funny [face gets gravely serious] but were you not a staunch and trusted ally i would have you executed for such a joke

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Puppy

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hey guys

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And then I reblogged every post I saw. Like a whore.

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they should invent a crush that is on me

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Gotta be honest, I don't feel like educating people right now.

Like if you're a trump supporter, change or die. If you're a transphobe, change or die. If you are homophobic, change or die.

The world is goin to be a better place without you in it, thats a fact. You hold us back from being a better society. Reminder, facts dont care about your feelings. Change your heart or die.

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One of my disco elysium habits is that I keep interacting with Kim knowing full well I don't have any new dialogue options so I'm just constantly being like hey Kim. Oh it's nothing

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infantry and adultery sound like they'd be opposites but they're in fact completely unrelated

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Absolutely wild to me how sometimes you don't even realize the way you'd been taught to perceive things as a kid was kinda fucked up, actually, until decades later.

Example:

As a kid, I constantly lived in fear of damaging shit in my parent's house. The walls. The floors (especially the floors. The wood was beautiful. Shiny. But so easy to scratch). The cabinets.

As a sixteen-year-old, I once took my car to the dealership after work and paid a very dear sum of $250 ($10/hr cashier salary) to fix a slight scratch in the paint because I knew if my father saw it there would be hell to pay. It didn't matter that I parked far out, like I'd been taught, and someone scratched it anyway. It was my fault. I failed in my duties as a steward of my vehicle.

Every time I scratched a rim on a curb while parallel parking or got a door ding or, god forbid, didn't wash and vacuum that car every weekend, it was treated like some sort of moral failing.

Last year, when my husband and I first moved into our house, he scraped the side of our car when parking in our (Very Narrow) garage. When he told me, my first instinct was to be afraid for him. Like something terrible was going to happen to him because of this mistake. I urgently reassured him that it was okay, it was an accident, I wasn't mad. Baffled, he was like, "Yeah? I know? Like, thank you for the reassurance, but I'm only a little annoyed, I'm not upset. It's just a car." And I had to take several minutes to process that. It's...just a car.

We keep the car tidy. We maintain it. But we wash it maybe 4x a year. We only vacuum it after dirty road trips or when the dog hair starts to get annoying. It has scrapes and dings and the leather seats have stains. But that's ok. Because it's just a car.

This morning, I realized that a small rock had gotten embedded in the felt foot on one of our bar stools. Neither of us had noticed. There are now scratches on our beautiful hardwood floor. My immediate response was fear accompanied by a heavy measure of paralyzing guilt. "I'm so sorry," I told my husband, "I should have noticed. I'll figure out how to fix it, I swear. I can probably sand down that section and match the stain and--"

"Whoa, hey," he said. "It was an accident. And it's fine. Floors are going to get damaged. They're floors. We live here. There was damage in places before we even bought the house, remember? It's not a big deal. It's just a floor." Right. It's just a floor. Right.

My husband's mom is visiting and this afternoon, as I was sitting in the kitchen looking at the scratches on the floor, I offhandedly asked her if my husband had ever broken or damaged anything as a kid. "Of course," she said. Household items. A TV. A wrecked car during his teen years. I asked how she punished him.

"Why would I punish him for things like that?" she said. "They were all accidents."

Right. Of course. Right.

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Dana Scully Gillian Anderson iconic moments: blooper edition

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