The ramblings of a young chemist

Jon: that arent people

Jared: ...................spine

Jon: whose

Jared: mine now

Jon: whose was it before

Jared: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Max: uh. hm. I don’t think I’m doing this right.

Jared: lemme see.

*gross boneturning noises*

Everyone else in the van: *eyes forward, no reaction, they know Jared thinks it‘s funny to get a rise out of them and they are not going to give him the satisfaction*

Jared: yeah, you got too many vertebrae. 

Max: ...are you sure? 

Jared: yeah, s’posed to be 33. See, like--hey miss, lemme borrow your--

Daisy: *lupine growling*

Jared: what, I’ll give it right ba--

Daisy: *bass boosted lupine growling*

Jared: yeah all right fair enough

Max: weird, I thought Dr. Elliot said 35? Then again... I don’t think he was feeling well the day we did bones so maybe he got mixed up. Hey, Archivi--

Jon: *pained beholding noises* thirty three

Max: ok cool thanks :D

Jared: you want this back or

Max: nah, I’ll just start over

Jared: k.

*more gross bone noises*

And ofc my first thought was

I took a quick scan of his page and he's an underweight, single dude that's obsessed with guns and violence and openly and proudly a pedophile.

Nazis are only Nazis because they're too stupid and pathetic to get anywhere in life so they blame others for their own failure and resort to fantasies of violence because they're impotent, weak children that are desperate to be strong.

Hey guys. It’s a long story, but I really need help. Please share this post, I would really appreciate it. I’m desperate and this is my last hope. 

Thanks so much, 

Tagging a whole bunch of people I know in hopes that someone will help. 

you go to the well to get some water, and here’s Miriam’s boy, staring at the sky, completely still. his expression is unreadable. you hazard a hello and ask how he’s doing, and he slowly, unblinkingly, lowers his gaze on you (he’s 8 and is missing his frontal teeth, not that this is making you any less uncomfortable) and says “I cannot speak of the state of my being, Nathan son of Saul, my brother, but rejoice for the water you shall take today will be as pure as the soul of the children of Heaven”

*sees J boy, 8 yo, staring at you from across the street*

kid JC, coming home at twilight, a single white dove following him and chirping with weirdly human-like precision:

 moth̫́er,̦͌ ̮̉i h͙̉av͔̽e ͓͗b̘̃r̞̓o̮͘u̲̒gh̟͒t̺́ you a do̗͐ṽ͙e̢͘ ͈̾m͒͢a͈̽dē̝ ỏ̘f ͈̓c̆͜l͔̂aỷ͇ aṋ̑d̳̿ g͢͞i̹̾fted̖͡ ̻͐it ͓͂w̖̿it̎͜h t̥̃h͙͒e ̨̒m̧̂i̡̍ŗ͒â̫cḷ̔è̤ ̛̻of̞̅ l̘̈i̛̦fè̳

Miriam: ! that’s my little boy :) now let’s go get ready for dinner :) 

her husband Yosef, a carpenter who only marginally got signed up for this: 

-healthy

-common

-normal

Questioning isn't:

au where Anakin is Mace Windu’s padawan

Anakin bit his lip, afraid to ask, but needing to know. “Master? Why didn’t you want me to be a Jedi?”

Mace gave the boy, his student for nearly a year, a measured look. “I was afraid.”

“Of me?” Anakin’s voice trembled despite his best efforts. Master Windu wasn’t afraid of anything. “What’s wrong with me?”

Mace shook his head. “You reminded me of someone I didn’t want to remember.”

Anakin looked at the floor, his shoulders tight with anger, fear, shame, and his determination not to show them. “A Sith,” he guessed.

Mace placed a hand on his wayward padawan’s shoulder. “Myself,” he explained. “Before I learned to trust the Force.”

Anakin raised wide eyes to his master’s, flashing with a hundred questions, but he could articulate none. Mace pat his shoulder, once, and let go.