anonymous asked:

Do I really have to exist

i am not god; i sometimes think about how much doesn’t have to exist, myself included. it’s a problem i find a lot. i don’t feel necessary.

but then, neither is my dog. he is a sheepdog with no sheep. he has nightmares a lot. his purpose is moot.

one of my cats only eats bugs. he won’t catch mice. for an obligate carnivore, he loves moths.

is it required that i or you or anyone else exists. maybe not. but i kind of think of it as a small miracle. you do exist. despite how scientifically improbable it was for you to be created, you were. and something in that is beautiful, you know? the universe needed eyes to watch all these unnecessary things it created. you don’t spend hours on your sim house just to put no people in it. does a house require people to exist? no. but it does require people to be a home.

i know the world demands you Fulfill Thine Divine Purpose. i think that’s kind of bogus. you don’t have to be useful or valuable or exceptional to be worth something. my dog is worth so much to me. the idea that he’s not necessary is silly to me.

yes, i know. life goes on when people leave. true, and true indeed. i think about that a lot. but i also know that my sister’s cat goes to check to see if she’s home every night, and she’s been gone for months. 

grand scheme? who knows. but the truth is that other people need you because you help them feel like they exist with purpose. maybe you haven’t met the right people yet. i felt strongly in senior year of high school that nothing i did mattered - after all, i had no friends. i was bullied. if i died, it would make zero difference. and maybe it would have. maybe the gap would have filled after me. maybe my cat would learn that i was gone, that nobody was coming. maybe my mom would foster a new daughter. who knows. i’m not god.

but i do know if i didn’t exist. if i had taken myself off the table because i didn’t have to exist…. i wouldn’t be here talking to you and all of my new friends here. i wouldn’t tell you that, since you’re here, you might as well enjoy the rest of the things that shouldn’t exist. televisions are sound and image boxes. music and art and dance and writing don’t have to exist, but they do because they bring us joy, fill us with harmony. airplanes are godless flight machines and if god wanted us off the ground he would have given us wings.

airplanes were someone saying “this doesn’t have to exist, but i want it to.”  and i want you to exist because it’s worth it. it’s worth it for the dog you might adopt or the tattoo you might get or skinny dipping or writing songs or planting a garden. all things in life that won’t exist without you, that won’t happen without you around to make them happen. that need you to exist so they can exist too. 

please stay on this earth. i can’t force you, i can’t offer you a promise that the world ever stops hurting. but i can say that somewhere, to someone, you matter. and you matter to me, because you exist, because you reached out to me, because you have a question that i ask myself daily. 

here’s my suggestion. when i’m at the point that the rope has a stronger pull than the art of the world, i make myself count the things that are good, and didn’t have to exist, but do. libraries. books. bath bombs. me and you. because i know we can be a force for good, you and i. somewhere on some level we can help others or just help ourselves and that’s…. good. and i think, really, in this universe that loves entropy, yes, absolutely, we need you. we need the good you can do. and we need you. or, at least: i do.

How NCT 127 + Ten Would Kiss You


now listen since y'all sleep on taeil  so much that you probably don’t know this but he has really pretty lips and really nice hands so ,, naturally ,, you want them on your waist asap. (the lips or the hands you can decide)(i’m literally five why did i say that) anYwayS kissing taeil is going to be soft at first bc yeah he’s awkward but he also takes his time doing things that need to be done. so slow touches here and there, his hands tracing your curves as he presses kisses up your jawline. he stops right in front of your lips to just stare and you. probably tucks a flyaway lock of hair behind your ear and tells you you’re the most beautiful person in the world. when he fINALLY kisses you, i imagine taeil is very slow and sensual with his kisses. doesn’t use tongue much unless he’s rlly in the mood bc he just likes the intimancy of your lips touching. his hands never stop traveling to places they shouldn’t be tho ngl.

Originally posted by nctaezen

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a story

once upon a time, a few mistakes ago

i deleted posts, you guys lost control

you analysed it, you analysed it, you analysed it,it,it,it,it

I guess you had evolved

And I guess I knew that

Cause I encoded my store

Then you JavaScript-ed it

Without telling me, without telling me, without telling me,e,e,e,e,ee

And the posts are long gone

Though they’re in your memory

And I realised

I should’ve made a key

Cause I knew you were Sherlocks when you slithered in

@taylorswift we love you🖤

anonymous asked:

I follow you because I'm in love with I Had Rather and We Used To Wait and because you're an amazing writer and because you get as excited as I do talking about Nick and Louis. And because I know that if I ask you how you feel about Louis taking care of Nick when he has a cold without trying to make it look like he's actually takig care of him, you'll share your thoughts with me and I'll love it. And also because you're lovely. xx

OH OH OH what if they weren’t really together but maybe Louis wanted to be, and maybe he’d sort of managed to get Nick to finally believe that they were proper mates, but one time he rings from LA and Nick is all gruff and snuffly and tired and pretending he’s okay. 

And Louis is worried, right? But he can’t say anything because he and Nick are pretty new mates, and Nick has a million better friends, but Nick clearly needs a bit of an early night and a few cups of tea. So he doesn’t say anything, other than a bit of you sound a bit rough, mate, and not wanging on for hours about nothing just so he can keep talking to Nick for as long as possible. (Sometimes he wonders if Nick is wanting to get rid of him, but Louis tells himself that Nick is perfectly capable of telling him to bugger off or not answer his phone or whatever, but Nick always answers). 

But the next time he rings, Nick still sounds tired and bunged up and miserable, and the next time, even more so, and Louis is kind of at a loose end and really one hundred per cent tries to tell himself he’s going home because he fancies seeing family and friends, but that absolutely does not explain why he shows up at Nick’s door at half eleven in the morning on a Friday when the previous morning he hadn’t even booked a flight. 

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@sanerontheinside, @maawi, @meabhair, @eclipsemidnight, @kyberpunk, @ricooola, @lilyrose225writes, @markwatnae,

I don’t even know okay, this is literally just random thing brain spat out. Enjoy weird Kenobi heh.

He’s six when he leaves his home. His mother and father hold him close, cling to him and savour his presence like they’re never going to see him again. Their smiles are watery, full of grief they try to hide but he can taste it on the back of his tongue as he walks away from them. He does not cry.

He’s leaving everything he knows behind; the fields that turn gold in summer and green in winter; the twin suns that shine on opposite sides of the sky at midday; the six moons he’d learned the names of at school and recited each night; the feeling of the earth beneath his feet pulsing with life and vitality; the tingle on his skin with each gentle breeze and vicious gust of wind.

He’s leaving it all behind and he doesn’t cry.

There’s something like pain curling in his belly, wriggling like the snakes he played with in the fields, and Ben’s bottom-lip trembles. He’ll never see those snakes again. 

He’ll never see any of it ever again.

A mournful note carries itself along the breeze and Ben’s head snaps up to stare at the open sky above him. He’s only a few feet from the ship that’s going to take him away from all he’s ever known.

A flash of crimson in the blue sky, flaming and sparkling in the light of the twin suns, high above his head makes Ben a sad smile, full of all the grief a child of six can feel.

The note changes to a song, changing pitch and lengthening as the crimson flash swoops and dives high above him.

“A harbinger,” someone comments nearby – the man who owns the ship Ben is about to climb aboard – and Ben wants to snarl at him, pain in his belly turning to white hot anger. “A poor omen.”

Ben wants to shout at him, bear his teeth and hiss at him like one of the snakes he played with as a toddler. He wants to laugh at him, tell him he’s wrong and doesn’t understand and never will, because how could he understand when he has nothing of what Ben does running in his veins?

There is no brilliance gleaming beneath his skin like there is beneath Ben’s. No glory or splendour that coalesces into shimmering gold and silver in night or day on Ben’s command.

This man knows nothing and Ben doesn’t want to go with him. He already knows he doesn’t belong where he’s going. He’ll never belong there. But he doesn’t really belong here either.

For all that this is his home, for all that the crimson music above him resonates deep within in, Ben knows that this is not where he’s meant to be.

He doesn’t know where he belongs yet, but he’ll find out. One day.

For now though, he bites back his snarls, hides his eyes from view with his golden hair flecked with the same crimson dancing above him, and climbs the steps into the ship without a sound.

The song in the sky fades slowly, disappearing with the wind as the bulkhead doors shut with a groaning hiss. Ben wishes he could take it with him to where he’s going, wishes he could go back and let himself be swallowed up by the melody, but he can’t. The ship takes off jerkily and Ben knows he cannot turn back from his path now.

He thinks of his world, his family, everything he’s leaving behind and still he does not cry.

Those tears will not fall for what he’s losing now, they’ll fall when he’s alone, surrounded by durasteel and glass and strangeness, and still hasn’t found what he seeks.

His tears will fall when he sheds his name and chooses a new one before ever sharing his own with the people he’s going to now. Ben will be lost just as his world is lost.

Obi-Wan will be found in the light of an alien sun on a planet that’s too loud and too dead deep inside to be his home.

Ben will never hear the crimson song ever again. Obi-Wan will never stop hearing the golden melody the crimson song becomes when it’s reborn anew.

His hair will be gold and crimson; his eyes the blue of the skies he was born beneath; green of the fields he crawled in under the winter suns; his skin the pale silver sheen no one but him can see, because none of them come from where he does, and have none of the gifts that he does.

Obi-Wan will be everything he needs to be and more, but he will never stop being the boy who bares his teeth when he snarls and hisses in anger at the unfairness of it all in this place full of deceit and death.

Obi-Wan will be the justice and judgement needed in this world of grey and black hues dripping from words of promise and loyalty.

He will be the crimson song and golden melody always and forever.

I feel like if the devil ever wanted somewhere to hide he could just go on tumblr and no one would suspect a thing
I mean he could be all like “I am the Dark Lord Satan” and someone else would just be like “yeah me too high five bro" 

When you spend the day, speaking and writing in a foreign language, then switch back to your native language and start spelling things wrong, forgetting the English word and screwing up sentence structures...

Originally posted by 912gif

I had to search ‘A word for fixing things’ because I couldn’t remember the word ‘correctly’, then proceeded to spell it ‘currectlee’. I can’t tell if this means I’m progressing in language learning, or not. I am a sleep deprived mess, okay.