greg calling alex terms of endearment at the start of season 13's live tasks
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greg calling alex terms of endearment at the start of season 13's live tasks

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because of time zones, episodes of 911 come out on fridays for me; in line with the religious themes, i saw this post that mentions holy week which reminded me that this friday happens to be good friday, which is known for jesus dying
[source]
so i'm choosing to believe that bobby will be resurrected on easter (also called resurrection sunday) which is known for jesus coming back to life
[source]
especially with the lyrics of the song playing in the background of that scene at the end when bobby his saying goodbyes (work song by hozier)
so just like jesus left his tomb, may bobby leave his grave as well 🙏
ivo graham hands on head compilation
ed gamble & james acaster cameo in the last episode of taskmaster series 15
…..roe v wade being overturned is fucking horrific, but as I’ve already seen more than one grumbly ‘why are people still posting casually like nothing happened’ post, it feels like a great time to remind folks that a) performatively posting on social media is not activism and you don’t know what people are doing irl, b) not everyone is American, c) some people really mentally struggle with being surrounded 24/7 by doomposting and misery, d) not everyone is American, e) people often have sideblogs categorised by the sort of material they post, so you might not be following the place where they are posting about roe v wade, f) NOT EVERONE IS AMERICAN -

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This post is your reminder that you are not obligated to blog about current events.
Things are bad. Really bad. Do not let people guilt trip you into tormenting yourself even further over the fact that things are bad. Doomscrolling is not activism.
If you're just on tumblr to blorbopost or reblog pretty pictures, you are not harming people by inaction.
You are not a bad person for not dedicating every aspect of your life and leisure space to whatever disgusting mask-off attack on human life and dignity some government has decided to enact.
Take action where you can, but don't confuse doomscrolling and digital self harm for action.
If you need to lose yourself in blorboposting, go for it.
If you need to log off for the day, whether it's to take irl action or to protect what little sanity any of us have left over the past 7 years, then by all means, do.
Morale is important. Hope is important. Small joys keep us from burning out completely in times like this. Do not let any "if you don't reblog this I'm judging you" guilt trip convince you otherwise.
This is not to say that if you do choose to blog about it, you're just self-harming and you need to stop that right now. Social media IS how a lot of attention is brought to these things, lots of people are 100% capable of running mixed fun and serious blogs without it becoming a problem for themselves or their followers, and even on a personal level, screaming about it can be cathartic for some.
But a few individuals bowing out of the news sharing to protect their mental health will not stop those news articles or resource masterposts from reaching anyone they need to reach. Unless you're an actual celebrity, there is no one who needs that information following you and ONLY you.
Know yourself. Do what is best for yourself, because at times like this, we need every scrap of hope we can get, whether that comes from feebly swinging a stick at the problem or retreating from whatever tries to steal those scraps from you.
find someone who looks at you like that
what pronouns do u use pls?
Not my problem. Figure it out.

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Jon, what does it mean to be human?
ARCHIVIST: I don’t know. Kind of… I’ve always sort of, sort of accepted that, you know, I’m… not quite human enough.
SASHA: Jon, understand, humanity is not something that can be pinned down or defined simply by your actions. It’s more of a dynamic, emergent property, something that we make and evolve and construct, and when you try to define it too narrowly… well, you just end up watering down the nature of the thing. You are not some rigid, predetermined human template.
[THE ARCHIVIST SIGHS HEAVILY] ARCHIVIST: (soft, annoyed huff) Right. (wry chuckle) Sorry. I just - it’s difficult.
SASHA: (more gently) Jon, it’s okay.
ARCHIVIST: (long sigh) Yeah. Yeah, I guess.
Henhouse, what does one do with unrequited love? Does one let the love fester, or does one let it go? And if I wanted to let it go, how?
[HUMMING/VIBRATIONS BEGIN] Stop and be still and listen, and I'll tell you a story. I’ll even tell you one you haven’t heard yet.
Once, a friend of mine attended a party for a friend of a friend. It was a very lavish affair, filled with beautiful people and enchanting music and other wonderful delights. And at this party, my friend met a beautiful woman in a white dress. The woman was witty and charming and glamorous, and my friend was smitten. They chatted in the garden until the party was over, and then it was time to go. My friend and the woman parted, and my friend went home to bed.
But he did not sleep. Instead, as he lay in bed he realized, he never did catch his new friend’s last name, or for that matter, any means of contacting her at all. And so, the next day, he went back to the house where the party was to ask after the woman he’d met the night before, but nobody seemed to know anything about her.
Why, the memory of this mysterious person haunted my friend for years. Every party he went to, he would look for her, hoping to meet her again, but she would not be there. No matter how hard he searched, she remained elusive. And yet, he found himself still thinking of her.
As the years went by, the feeling of love, of desperation to be reunited, that had grown inside him turned over into something new. He came to find himself no longer anxious on thinking of her or hopeless for her company. Instead, the feeling of his longing and his search was replaced by the gentleness of memory, and he found that thinking of her, though he still longed for her, was often joyful and sweet instead of lonely and sickening. He loved her, but not in the way he’d once pined after her. He decided he was glad to have met her, despite how brief their interaction had been, and that he would remember her, and in remembering be content.
My whole life I have been tormented by situations
... when I look back I feel like I am not there. Like I am someone else. I’m sorry.
I think sometimes when we are children we are not allowed to think. You are not allowed to ask questions. You are told that this is the way it is, that you are small and they are big, and they know better than you. You are told you should be invisible, but you know you are not.
Sometimes I think that I am not really there, that I am just empty. Maybe not real. Sometimes I feel like I am just this character that I play. Exit Martin stage right, you know? But also sometimes I feel real and I don’t know who I am.
Thoughts of the archivist, ones regarding happiness. Statement begins:
ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT): I have always found solace in the pursuit of mysterious and inaccessible things like this. I find myself desperately wishing for a peaceful life, a place to lay my head when doubts crowd my mind, and I start to look forward with a fear that I cannot name. I am not afraid of confronting the darkness itself, but of its approach.
Solace is a wonderful concept. As the days pass, I find myself more and more obsessed with finding some kind of balance, some subtle equilibrium, some calm answer to the void that lies just beyond my own. And in my dreams, I am not afraid.
TIM: Jon, this too shall end.
ARCHIVIST: This too shall pass.
TIM: [chuckles] What?
ARCHIVIST: It’s “This too shall pass.”
TIM: That’s bullshit, it’s the same thing.
ARCHIVIST: No, no, it’s different. Passing has a… it has an active implication. It’s like a train. One day, it might return to a town it’s already passed through, but that’s it. It moves on. It’s transitive. It implies motion. This shall end is more just laying there.
TIM: I don’t like that.
ARCHIVIST: Well, you don’t want this to be over, Tim, right?
TIM: Well, yeah, but it’s a good thing.
ARCHIVIST: Good things pass, too.
TIM: That’s not a good thing. That’s the worst thing.
ARCHIVIST: Well, yeah. Absolutely. That’s the comforting paradox of existence. An unavoidable but nonetheless pleasant truth.
TIM: [exasperated noise]
ARCHIVIST: Humans are made of clay. That’s not static. Solids are malleable. They can be both sculpted and disassembled. You will be disassembled. That’s inevitable. I’ll be disassembled. That’s inevitable, too, but I might get reassembled into something else eventually. That’s not an end, it's another step. A process. All processes are cyclical. It’s how it works. It has to work.
TIM: That’s sad.
ARCHIVIST: It is, but it’s also… not.

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Please write a happy ending for The Magnus Archives. I believe in you, you can do it! Statement begins.
ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT): It ends like this: I love you. I do.
It’s odd, isn’t it, the things that can change your life? My words are a bridge too far, too far away from reality, and when I reach out my hand in your hand… well…
There’s no return. But when I reach out my hand to yours, it feels ok.
Nothing really ends, does it? Because, I suppose it never even began.
I’ve been thinking about atoms. The more things change… the more easy it is to forget. There’s no beginning, no middle, no end. Just the endless, moving thing that condenses every bit of existence into your little body. I think the hard part was figuring out, trusting, appreciating, and valuing the thing. When you have no idea what’s going on, how can you know if something’s worth it?
There were plenty of wonderful things I did while I was me. I still might after.
So, thank you. For everything.
ARCHIVIST: Statement ends.
Statement of Martin Blackwood and the Archivist, describing their happy ending. Statement begins:
ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT): Thank you all for sticking around. Thank you for letting me tell you a story, even if it wasn’t a very nice one. Sometimes it doesn’t matter if the story ends happily or not. It just matters that someone was listening.
MARTIN: That’s it, then? No more waiting? No more questions? No more…
ARCHIVIST: You don’t have to finish that sentence.
MARTIN: But…
ARCHIVIST: Would you like to know what will happen next?
MARTIN: I thought - Ok. Yes.
ARCHIVIST: You will see the sun rise… right over there, Martin.
Look at me.
You will drink hot tea with fresh milk. You will take a walk through the city, and notice things you have never seen before. You will pick up the phone and call your friends and you will tell them you love them. The world will turn and you will go on living. You will listen to records and eat delicious things and look at the stars and you will read books and fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon. You will fall in love and you will make mistakes and you will learn. You will find a reason to go on, even when you are tired. The world won’t end, and so you will get a dog. So you will sit on the sofa and you will pet its fur. You will, on occasion, be lonely. But it will be different than it was before.
MARTIN: That sounds nice.
ARCHIVIST: It will be.
MARTIN: …
But what about you?
ARCHIVIST: You’ll remember me.
MARTIN: But I don’t want to just remember.
ARCHIVIST: Then don’t.
MARTIN: Jon?
ARCHIVIST: Yes.
MARTIN: What’s the dog’s name?
[FOR A MOMENT, WE HEAR NOTHING BUT THEIR BREATHING.] ARCHIVIST: I love you.
MARTIN: I love you, too.
[THEY LAUGH. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER, AND THEY HAVE ALWAYS. THERE IS NOTHING ELSE TO SAY.]