vtrix

sometimes i think about how neil probably went days without speaking to another human being before becoming a guy who literally couldn't keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it in contrast to an andrew who literally couldn't shut up bcus of the meds before returning to his normal state of 'i speak to 3 people and one of them is my therapist' and its just like wow. andreil.

Sometimes I think about how not only do Jeaneil share the same birthday digits (11/9 and 1/19) but also how there are 70 days between those dates (not counting either one) and how if they had been together in the Nest, Neil’s ‘3’ and Jean’s ‘4’ would’ve equaled ‘7’ and how that is considered SUCH a lucky number and how well off they would have been (compared to without each other) and how they could’ve both survived in every lifetime if only they had each other every single time and how they were destined to be partners and no no listen how—-

personally I'm annoyed by the socioeconomic conditions that made words like "unalive" necessary but simultaneously impressed by the linguistic adaptations young people have made to continue talking about important things while subject to those conditions and I think if you can't hold both of those thoughts in your head you might just be old man yelling at cloud

i know i would be ragebated by the trojans SO fast if i had to play against them like wdym we just scored against you and you're all smiling at the provocations and praising the power of friendship or whatever

honey is the only food product that never spoils. there are pots of honey that are over five thousand years old and still completely edible

i also want to point out we know it tastes the same even after thousands of years b/c archaeologists who discovered two thousand year old honey tasted it. presumably right after they looked at each other and went “what the hell here goes nothing”

I’m pretty sure they also identify human remains by taste. Archaeologists are straight up freaks.

mai nam is jane and wen i dig i fynde some roks both smol and big i put my tung upon the stone for science yes i lik the bone

I’m sitting with a bunch of archaeologists and we just laughed so hard we CRIED we’re getting tshirts with this on them

I will never ever get tired of seeing bredlik poems. It is really one of the seminal art forms of the century. I am not being sarcastic. 

If I ever don’t reblog this, assume I’m dead and archaeologists are licking my bones.

you guys think that jean, historically held down by kevin during riko’s punishments, gained a new empathy for kevin’s brand of trauma when neil came to the nest and jean had to be the one to restrain him?

Andrew has never been held by Neil from behind. If Andrew always sleeps facing Neil, then Neil has never really had the chance to hold him the way Andrew holds him, and, as far as Neil is concerned, that is something that needs to be remedied immediately. one evening, when they settle into bed to watch some random nonsense on a laptop, Neil stubbornly climbs over Andrew and squeezes himself into the narrow space between him and the wall. realizing that their usual arrangement has suddenly been rearranged, Andrew shifts reluctantly and feels an arm tighten around his waist before he even has the chance to ask Neil what the hell he is doing. the weight of Neil’s arm pulls him back against a warm body, and lying like this, with someone solid and vibrant at his back, feels completely unfamiliar. “Get back on your side,” Andrew says. Instead, Neil gently buries his nose against the back of Andrew’s head, his palm wandering slowly over Andrew’s chest and waist. “Does it bother you?” he asks. “I’m used to having you in front of me,” Andrew answers without hesitation. “That’s not what I asked.” Neil loosens his hold slightly, then clarifies in a voice that reaches directly into the space beside Andrew’s ear, “Do you like it or not?” Andrew stays silent for a while, taking the time to actually examine what he is feeling, although he does not need particularly long to reach an answer. “I like it.” the words come out quietly, followed by Andrew awkwardly adjusting the pillow beneath his cheek. he hears Neil exhale sharply, exactly the way he does before pulling a smile onto his face, but Andrew deliberately chooses to ignore it. Neil settles his arm around Andrew’s waist, drawing him closer as he buries his face against the back of Andrew’s head, breathing in the familiar scent of his shower gel and deodorant. Andrew furrows his brow, trying to adjust to a position in which he has lost his usual place as the observer. the unfamiliar vulnerability keeps threatening to surface, yet somehow each wave of it collides with something else entirely: the warmth pressing steadily against his back, the quiet rhythm of breathing against the back of his head, the occasional kiss along his hairline or the nape of his neck, and the slow, absentminded strokes of Neil’s scarred palm across his stomach. the gestures are so quiet and monotonous that Andrew barely notices himself inching closer, slowly allowing his body to grow accustomed to the unfamiliar position and deciding to stay like this just a little longer.

religion is so fucking funny the world is just too beautiful there must be a higher entity behind all this. lets oppress women

"when you say Religion That Oppresses Women you better not mean My Religion That Oppresses Women"