i swallow the dice- i make my own luck now

I really appreciate how every week I reblog this, a different person interacts it. Tuesday light me up speaks to all of us at different times.

I personally would not eat a toddler even if I was really french and hungry

Commander Cody writing spemails (space emails) in year four of an intergalactic war: I hope this message finds you well enough to come out of there, you coward, and fight me. 

@thecodyagenda cody to grevious

stratt gets to her monthly scheduled half-hour for "feeling things" and lets herself descend into cheeky little bitter envious frenzy over not having the coma resistance gene markers. oh, to not have to face the rest of her life on earth and be locked away helpless while everyone starves, and instead just wake up, work for a single month more, eat the best food available, fix everything with her own two hands, die in satisfied peace, and be remembered with reverence. she's just getting into a proper spiral about how grace has this opportunity but can't even seem to comprehend why this would the most beautiful thing and why, why doesn't he? does he not care? about the world, about me, about himself? what's wrong with him? he has the capacity to care, I've seen it, it's there, but he refuses it. why won't he do this for all of us? if I could just reach into his brain and fix-- and then her alarm goes off and she has to go to her next meeting.