A goober father and his goober AI son.
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Not today Justin
Jules of Nature
ojovivo
Cosimo Galluzzi

Love Begins
DEAR READER

★
art blog(derogatory)
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Three Goblin Art
trying on a metaphor

Andulka
macklin celebrini has autism

Kiana Khansmith

Keni
KIROKAZE

Discoholic 🪩

⁂

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@skywalkertrauma3
A goober father and his goober AI son.

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new evidence just dropped, add it to the list...
“Any book we write in will be The Book of Life,” Aziraphale said, grabbing the nearest book and whatever writing instrument was within arms reach.
As he wrote, he spoke aloud:
“It was a nice day. All the days had been nice. There had been rather more than seven of them…”
Trying to have a positive spin on the finale
"Well," said half the fandom, "that one went down like a lead balloon."

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i’m not a fan of the good omens finale but what i refuse to do is go into finale lovers’ positive posts and go rain on their parades. i think our fandom can survive this if we don’t try to tell others what to feel. and yes that goes both ways.
then eventually we can go back to peaceful parallel play and even sharing toys
And they really thought they ate with this ending like it’s so crazy…
Y’all literally Job’d the fuck out of us.
The more I think about it, the more I believe the divide in the Good Omens fandom right now is a philosophical one.
We’re asking, where does the soul live?
For those who think that who we are is shaped by a life time of experiences. That we grow and change with each each heartbreak and trauma. We see the ending as something horrible. We’re witnessing the death of our beloved characters and we are grieving for them.
For those who believe in a soul, who believe that Asa and Anthony are Aziraphale and Crowley because of the something intrinsic that lives inside them, what they’re seeing is a rebirth and a second chance. In that sense the ending is beautiful. They both get exactly what they’ve always wanted. To live as humans without the pressure of heaven and hell. In that sense, the ending is a joyous one.
Sadly these beliefs are deeply held, often the roots begin as far back as our childhoods. No amount of screaming at each other about media analysis is going to change anyone’s mind. Please just accept that there are multiple ways that one can view the ending and that those who are upset are experiencing grief. This is an extremely normal and valid reaction to end of something so meaningful and should be treated with care.
That said, your grief is not an excuse to lash out and those who don’t deserve it.
Be kind to each other.
In every time and place, in every lifetime and universe💫

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"there is no platonic explanation for this--"
I fell asleep in my friends' arms. It was eleven at night, we were tired, curled up in a small pile on my tiny bed. I had my head buried in my roommate's side, and one of my closest friend's hand on my shoulder, steadying me. It was quiet and nothingness and peace and their heartbeats in my ears, my hands in their hair.
"there is no platonic explanation for this--"
We pack four people to that little bed, you know. Laps used as footrests, collarbones as pillows, little lights like moonlight in rustic yellow bathed on their faces. The TV plays an anime. The words are repeated by my dear friend on my shoulder, curled close. My legs are asleep; my roommate may be, too.
"there is no platonic explanation for this--"
The cat curls on top of our criss cross mess of legs and arms and heads on chests to absorb the warmth of us all. She purrs in contented peace. When my roommate and I are left alone in the quiet, she cries, and watches the door for our friends' return.
"there is no platonic explanation for this--"
I will never kiss them but the top of their heads. I will never touch but the warmth of their arms. I will never take more than what's freely given, and in return I put my glasses on the bedside table fashioned from a guitar amp, and when I lean into their sides, I pick up my vulnerability and place it in their capable, tender hands.
"there is no platonic explanation for this--"
I sing for them. I cry for them. I work and I run and I withstand the worst of the world for them, because some days I get to cradle their forehead on my shoulder and some days I get to see their shining eyes.
"there is no platonic explanation for this--"
Maybe to you. But look beyond explanation. I love them. With my heart in my unsteady hands, with my nose pressed to the side of their head, with the buzzing in my feet and the warmth all around Iike the sunset pushing into the window.
"there is no platonic explanation for this--"
Is it enough to say I love them? With no strings attached? With reckless abandon and utter devotion and freedom and kindness and fear?
"there is no platonic explanation for this--"
I cannot explain it any clearer. I love my friends. There is no more to say.
navi paintings heal something in me.
Tamtey: This is it. This is my deathbed. My last day on Pandora.
So'lek: I've seen you get into a fist fight with a dislocated shoulder and a broken wrist, but the flu is what is going to do you in?
Tamtey: My tummy hurts.
Deadpan humor at its finest. Raise your hand if you think highly competent Commander Cody would win this championship.

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What if i revived my ancient mcyt obsession by combining it with star wars in a fanfic. i’m already doing this btw just a heads up for the general population
firelord zuko who loves going to the southern water tribe not just bc it makes katara happy but also bc he’s treated like a normal guy and is put to work and only needs to do breathing exercises to remain optimally warm. not only is he meditating as he goes, he can make himself SO useful outside of the politics of it all. kanna doesn’t feel like using the spark rocks for a fire? chop chop blowtorch boy, the fire won’t start itself. they need hot water? yeah katara’s boy can heat that up in a few seconds and he can also do the laundry. he’ll get to you in a minute he’s making me tea. hakoda is like mom you can’t just demand the firelord does chores and kanna goes well he’s not the firelord here is he. hashtag not my firelord. and don’t pretend you didn’t come in here to take him hunting. zuko is like oh i can tag along if you need me to and kanna goes no you need to do dishes after that tea is done. hakoda slinks back out and is like sorry boys the space heater can’t go, and sokka is like ah fuck. is gran-gran hogging him again. i was hoping he could warm my hands when they get cold. and katara goes well i wish you would all stop stealing my boyfriend but we can’t all get what we want can we sokka.