I love libraries.
I'm browsing the WWI shelves (as you do) and notice a very old book about the war. I glance at the first pages that talk about how one day the war will be over and we'll look at this place and not see any signs of the battlefield.
Then it hits me. And I check the publishing date.
This book was printed before the war's end. Not written. Printed. The physical object was created in 1918, while the war in question was raging and the end was as yet uncertain.
Now I'm standing on the other side of the apocalypse, with this physical link to that era in my hands. I'm living proof that the war did end and life did go on and we can all look at the end of the world as a long-ago memory.
Reading old books is cool enough, connecting our minds and hearts through the ideas of people who lived long ago, but there's something extra profound about holding a copy of the book that comes from the time that it was written. It's a physical link between the past and the present connecting me to those long-ago people. A piece of the past come into the future that gives me the chance to almost take the hand of some long-ago reader, to hold something they could have held, connecting not just mentally but physically to their era, a moment of connection across more than a century.
Excuse me while I go weep.
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The worst thing Miguel and Jessica did to Gwen wasn't even threatening to send her home if she ever visits Miles, it's forcing her to choose their side during the chase scene and make Miles never want to see her again and once the chase scene ended they kicked her out. That's the kind of evil that the Spot was trying so hard to become.
Edit: just in case you forgot - they knew that prison and dead dad were waiting for her when they send her back home
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I keep seeing these takes where people are like, “Qimir isn’t evil or manipulative! He literally asks for consent and is being persecuted by the Jedi!!!” and I’m reminded of a similar post and think:
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You and your annoying uni friend slash occasional roommate Endo who likes to crash at your place unprompted and unannounced at random times. Despite your pouts and groans you enjoy his presence as much as he does.
He’s an impressive artist with wonderful line work, his newest works always has you waiting to see the end result, watching with great focus as he works on them on your floor in the dead of the night
And he’s great company too. A beer cracked open, snacks all around and it’s just the two of you shittalking others, gossiping and being mean just because you can and oh—
is it not fun to spend time with him like that- to the point he has become perhaps the closest to you. Each others confidants, secret keepers, the number one victim to drag when the other one is trying something new or going to a new place.
So it’s no surprise when you whine about how boring and lonely things have gotten lately and you just miss a good ol heated making out session. Maybe a little handsy if türe feeling up to it, maybe even a little grinding if the night looks promising.
Before the two of you know, your hot breaths are all over each other, Endo’s hands at both sides, pulling you into his lap with strength and pressing you against that aching spot in his pants just to relieve himself as you bite into his neck and mark him up in red
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