You’re a daycare worker, watching over toddlers, when the imminent end of the world is announced. It becomes increasingly clear none of the kids’ parents are going to show up as the end inches nearer.

[Audio starts]

“Mom has been texting me for the last twenty minutes. She wants me to come home. It’s a four hour drive, when the roads are clear, and from what I hear everybody is trying to get somewhere right now. There’s no telling if I’d even-”

“Everybody else has left. All the other kids were picked up, the other staff left. They gave me all the keys. I promised to stay and wait for as long as- well. Even if some of the parents show up, I guess some of them won’t, so I’m just waiting. Until.”

[Clears throat.]

“A couple of people came after everybody left. Peter, one of Aidan’s fathers, gave me three hundred dollars for staying. What am I going to do with money? It’s- anyway. I kind of get it. He wanted to give me something.”

[Audio ends]

[Audio starts]

“They’re all between 2 and 4.” Sniff. “They’re so little. Too little to really- maybe if they were older, I’d have to tell them something. But um. I’m just- trying to stay calm and keep them happy and occupied. I think that’s the best thing, right now.”

[Heaving breaths.]

“I normally use this recorder to help me remember stuff. It’s just, uh, habit to talk to it. I don’t know. They’re napping, right now. I’ve got the baby monitor, they know that if they talk into it, I’ll come, so-”

[Sobbing.]

[Audio ends]

[Audio starts]

“Mom keeps texting, so I blocked her. I sent her a text telling her goodbye, first, but. I do. But these kids need me.”

[Sniff.]

“I tried calling their parents again, but I can’t get anybody. It’s just busy signals. I called the firefighter station, 911. I can’t get through to anybody.”

[Shaky breath.]

“I went out into the yard. Um, I think they can play. It’s nice out, and you can’t really see it yet. Little bit of a glimmer, if they ask I’ll just tell them it’s a plane, but it’s nice out and we’ve got hours before-”

[Murmuring child’s voice, indistinguishable.]

[Audio ends]

Keep reading

Every time someone says "ingredients" I say "ingredience" in response and then I realize I just sound like I repeated them because it sounds the fucking same out loud

me when i say inch resting

there is a demon in your house named CARBON MONOXIDE. he enchants your mind with confusion and your body with exhaustion. you need to call a powerful exorcist named HVAC TECHNICIAN

Going from being an introverted lurker on reddit to trying to post my own stuff here is so wild. I keep typing out a post, deleting it, then retyping because I think it's not good enough but then I look at other posts and why am I so worried?

It's like I'm at a fancy Italian restaurant and keep glancing around the room to see which hand people use to pick up the forks. But then I realize that everyone is shoveling spaghetti into their mouths using their bare hands and I'm like ah okay so I'm clearly overthinking this

This restaurant is absolute chaos and I'm giving it 5 stars

Movie adaptation cartesian plane where x axis is "good/enjoyable film" to "dogshit" and y axis is "faithful to the source material" to "an entirely different story"

am I making sense

So... I'm back

Tumblr, buddy, listen to me. This is an unprecedented opportunity. You can snap up all of the pie here, and become defacto internet goodguy easy. All you gotta do is... drop the nsfw ban. Unambiguously. Announce that dicks are back on the menu. You want people subscribed the blogs? You want people to actually use your Post+ function? Porn. Let us use it for porn. The youngins aren't joining this site anyway, you're not competing with tiktok. The vaguely horny 20-40 demographic though? You can have that. You can have all of that. Think about it.

Do you know how many pinup artists alone are itching to come back to tumblr, but dont because of the unclear, seemingly arbitrary application of your nsfw policy? These are insanely talented people who are practically begging to give you content. For free. But you gotta change the policy. We can't keep dancing around this. Just think of publicity. The drama. A complete 180. You'd kill it tumblr. You could make it happen. Please.

a graph based on my observations

I would like to apply a Dolly Parton quote to this most excellent graph.

both new york and minnesota have passed trans safe haven laws! they both do different things but theyre both very important.

A goodbye - Colin/Deli

(oops i wrote a thing) _____________________

”So, you’re renouncing your title?”

Deli’s question cuts through the silence. They’re sitting outside, it’s barely morning, and the Bulb hasn’t even begun to peak over the horizon.

Colin looks up at his companion. Deli’s gaze is curious. “Yeah. I don’t want it. I never wanted it, really. But even less now.”

“What are you going to do?” Deli asks.

“I am going to find all of them and make sure they don’t try anything like this again.” Colin says. Them meaning the Sanctus Putris of course. Colin can feel it in his bones, he can’t rest until he knows they won’t come back, until they are no more.

Deli is silent. Contemplating. He hasn’t been the same since Saprophus, since Karna, and now he looks even more thoughtful. “I am going back to the Meat Lands.”

I am being haunted by a fever dream where Raphaniel and Karna survive the last ep and Raphaniel arrives back to see Belizabeth chewing on his papers and then she blasts the scrunkly little radish man into space.

With a Gun.

Dykes to Watch Out For no. 89 by Alison Bechdel , 1990

Aziraphale’s phone rings.  He answers, expecting it to be Crowley.  But to his surprise, it’s a demon he’s never met.

“I’m Crowley’s replacement,” the demon says.  “He’s not done anything impressive lately, and Downstairs doesn’t like how ineffective he is at keeping you in line.  So now he’s shuffling paperwork and scooping up hellhound shit while I do his job for him.”

“Ah… I see,”  Aziraphale says icily.  “Well, I most assuredly do not look forward to working with you.”

The demon laughs.  “Feeling’s mutual.”

Twenty-four hours later, the demon is very surprised to find himself discorporated in his sleep.  He can’t explain what happened, he has absolutely no idea.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Beelzebub says, annoyed, and sends the demon back up.

After a mere three days, the demon ends up discorporated again.

A new replacement is sent up.  This one lasts for a week and a day.

A third replacement is sent up.  This one lasts for exactly four hours.

Three demons are sent up next time.  Two manage to stay alive for at least five months.  In that time, they botch four very important temptations, and the citizens of London inexplicably find their daily lives much improved in thousands of little ways.  Traffic and pollution are nonexistent, injury and illness are miraculously avoided.  Church attendance is up five hundred percent, and every politician and CEO is struck by the urge to donate as much money as possible to charity.  There’s a general feeling of contentedness and goodwill in the air that wasn’t there before.  It feels downright heavenly.

Suddenly, Beelzebub is having a very hard time finding anyone to take Crowley’s post.  Bribes and threats make no difference.  The rumors have spread and only grown more disturbing in the telling.  Not one demon is willing to go up there and face the cold, calculated, merciless wrath of the angel known as Aziraphale.

Crowley absolutely loses it when someone gets around to telling him.  “Y’know, I could’ve warned you,” he says gleefully.  “Been working with him for thousands of years.  I know exactly how much of a bastard he can be.”

After running the numbers and seeing how many souls they’ve lost to Heaven in the past year, Beelzebub gives up and concludes that trying to replace Crowley is a massive waste of resources Hell can’t afford.

After one year, Aziraphale receives another phone call.  He answers, with bated breath, and nearly shouts for joy when he hears a familiar voice.

“Hi, angel.  Lunch on me?”

*stumbles in limping and coughing, covered in blood, with torn clothes and tears streaming down my face*

Did you *cough* did you guys *splutter* did you guys know it’s really easy to hack your 3DS

I’ve been thinking about the Bulbian church for a while, and specifically thinking about the various philosophies elaborated on in The Ravening War. Specifically I’ve been thinking of how to me, the positioning of the Hungry One as being opposite or a reflection of the Bulb feels… off, or extreme. I think I figured it out (at least to me).

To me, the Hungry One is not evil. Ensuring continued survival cannot be evil; nobody can be blamed for what they have done out of desperation. Sating hunger is a primal instinct. There is no thought or specificity or preference; a starving person will eat anything to survive. The Hungry One eats to survive.

The gluttonous many are evil. They are the ones that eat so much more than their portion, who take from the starving and blame them for not having food if their own when the starving beg them for any scraps they can offer. They are the ones that have the luxury to pick and choose, and the ones that never truly feel desperation. They have the ability to dispose of the food that they find unfulfilling, unsatisfying, unhealthy, whatever the word may be. They are the ones truly at odds against the Bulb (whatever the Bulb may stand for).

Idk this is just my own interpretation of this made-up food religion from a dice math show. Thoughts?