sometimes it’s annoying when your character can’t jump in a video game but how often do you jump in real life?

“Do you even remember the last time you jumped?” is a question I never anticipated leaving me feeling so hollow and terrified.

I remember the exact moment I last jumped. Someone was playing that Kriss Kross song and I obliged.

My husband’s job primarily employs adult men but there is one (1) teenage girl and my husband said originally he worried she might be a bit of an outcast but instead every man on the crew was like “huh guess I am a dad/older brother now.”

She was in a car crash on the way to work one morning and called my husband to let him know she’d be late and he was like wtf guess I’m gonna be late too because I’m coming to pick you up and then he told his team and they were like I think you mean WE are coming.

Imagine you are a teenage girl probably rushing to get to work and you crash your probably new car and feel absolutely miserable and now you’ll be late to work but then suddenly in the distance a car full of all the adult men you work with just pulls up and is like “we came all the way here to pick you up” the mental image right now is fr.

Apparently she tried to call her dad but it was 3am and he was obviously sleeping so she called my husband and he not only came to find her but fished her glasses out of the hood of the car (she’d dropped them while looking inside), drove her to the hospital, and told her to take the day off. She insisted on coming back to work so he used his lunch break to watch TV with her to make sure she didn’t doze off (concussion risk).

You’ve heard of the Mom friend but my husband is very much the Dad friend. He said when he answered the phone she said “hey please don’t be mad” and he’s never felt such powerful Fatherhood energy in his life.

Girl: *calls for aid*

Every single dad packed into the car:

This is possibly my favorite response to this post

Legends Never Die - The Mandalorian

Contains spoilers for Season 1 & 2 of The Mandalorian

DO NOT REPOST.

It should be socially unacceptable to come to work with a cold or similarly contagious disease.

It should be socially unacceptable to make your workers come to work with a cold or similarly contagious disease.

It should be socially unacceptable to pay your employees so little that they have no choice but to come in with a cold or similarly contagious disease.

Posts that hit different in 2021

i think it's important to get deeply emotionally unironically involved in a bad piece of media whilst fully aware that it objectively sucks ass. like for your health or whatever

Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.

Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in.

“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”

The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.

“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”

“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”

“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”

The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”

Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”

“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”

Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.

“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”

“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?” 

The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.

A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer. 

“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”

“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”

“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”

The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.

And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.

Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.

“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”

“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”

“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.

“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.

“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”

“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”

And as the fields burned and the smoke blotted out the sun, as men were trodden in the press and bloody War raged on, as the heavens let loose their wrath upon the earth, Arepo the sower lay down in his humble temple, his head sheltered by the stones, and returned home to his god.

Sora found the temple with the bones within it, the roof falling in upon them.

“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.

“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”

Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.

“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”

“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.

“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”

Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.

“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.

“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.

“What?” the god asked.

Sora carefully lifted the skull onto the cloth. “You are the god of Arepo.”

Generations passed. The village recovered from its tragedies—homes rebuilt, gardens re-planted, wounds healed. The old man who once lived on the hill and spoke to stone and rubble had long since been forgotten, but the temple stood in his name. Most believed it to empty, as the god who resided there long ago had fallen silent. Yet, any who passed the decaying shrine felt an ache in their hearts, as though mourning for a lost friend. The cold that seeped from the temple entrance laid their spirits low, and warded off any potential visitors, save for the rare and especially oblivious children who would leave tiny clusters of pink and white flowers that they picked from the surrounding meadow.

The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.

He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.

So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.

“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.

The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.

“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.

“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”

“No,” Arepo smiled.

“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”

“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.

“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.

“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”

The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”

“I am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendships. And you are the god of Arepo.”

I reblogged this once with the first story. Now the story has grown and I’m crying. This is gorgeous, guys. This is what dreams are made of.

This is amazing!

As a proud indigenous woman, I want to remind everyone that with Thanksgiving coming up, to stay educated on the history of what actually happened. And don’t forget to honor and stay educated on the hundreds of diverse native american nations🖤

Omgggg so beautiful 🤩

Gina Carano: *Mocks Trans People, spreads misinformation/downplays the virus and throws jabs at the blm movement/protests .*

Trump Supporters: She’s allowed to state her opinion! She’s not harming fans 😡 God you all just hate woman. 

Pedro Pascal: *Mocks racists and Nazis*

Also Trump Supporters: OMGGGGGGGGGGG Pedro is attacking fans?!?!?! How could he!! He’s terrible. So horrible! 

#ManDADlorian

“My favorite genre of twitter is straight men reacting to Oscar Isaac”

How many more men would be bi if we let them

How many more men would be bi if we let them

Fuck I’m at a fencing tournament and literally a minute after I reblogged this my dad told me that he talked to the point people and I’m probably going to win a medal.

BURN BAGEL BURN

OH WHY NOT?

I need to follow up to say I reblogged this last night, and this morning I got some of the best news of my life, like, a life dream come true news thing.

Bagel what are your powers

FUCK, I though it was just another lucky meme but LISTEN. Since a week ago I was waiting a phone call to confirm me if I got a job or not in my university. I reblogged this yesterday’s night “just for fun and because I don’t want any bagel to be mad with me”, and today’s afternoon, while I was losing my time as always, the professor I was supposed to work with called me and asked me for my personal information to start working with her.

THE BAGEL POWERS ARE WAY TOO MUCH FOR THIS WORLD

I GOT A JOB THE DAY AFTER MY QUEUE POSTED THIS THE FIRST TIME AND I JUST REALIZED IT WHEN I SAW IT AGAIN HOLY GOD

The bagel hasn’t let me down yet!

I got a job offer after reblogging the bagel. Believe in the bagel!

Worth a try lol

i could use some good news or even a good girl 

Go lil bagle! Show me your power!

Okii then!

THIS IS THE FIRST THING ON MY BLOG

I GOT ASKED OUT FOR THE FIRST TIME AFTER I REBLOGGED IT

wait but whats happening with the bagel tho

It’s burning, as is everything I’ve hoped for whenever I’ve reblogged a post like this

I just kinda wanna watch something burn?

Mood

You guys didn’t listen when I said Bagels hold an ancient and wonderous power.

I need this

do it

I’m at an all time low I need this

ok sure

I hope so because the last couple of days I’ve had nothing but bad news

We all need some luck.

Sure. Why the hell not.

Four roommates are extraterrestrials who have taken human form in the hopes of learning about Earth’s culture. Unfortunately, each alien is from a different planet and believes the other three are normal humans.

I would read this

OH MY GOD

Starring Jack Black, The Rock, Jeff Goldblum and Taika Waititi 

And Mads Mikkelsen, the human neighbour that is weird enough that all the aliens think he’s an alien too.

they all are sure hes an alien and will go talk to him about how hard it is being an alien on earth, will even talk really frankly to him about it, but weirdly no matter what they say hes always like ‘oh yeah i can relate’

It got about a thousand times better than the last time I reblogged this I think.

They find each other because one of them puts up an ad for PERFECLY NORMAL HUMAN ROOMMATES NEEDED and none of them know enough about earth culture to realize how weird that is

The roommates develop a close, loving friendship with each other while still not knowing that none of them are humans. They begin to feel some sadness at hiding their true nature from their dear “human” friends. 

Every now and them one will say something to kind of hint at the idea of aliens, trying to feel the others out. Unfortunately it often gets misinterpreted as trying to figure out if that person’s an alien and the response is usually paranoid and negative.

Unknown to any of the aliens, two of them are from different planets that have been at war with one another for centuries, and have been raised to believe inhabitants of the enemy planet are bloodthirsty monsters.

Give me this now.

I need this.

Guys!!!! I found it again 🖖🐙

I would watch the hell out of this

Why is this not a show on Hulu yet???

Today’s gay disaster:

So two firefighters came into my store this morning. Now, we get firefighters in the store once in a while, probably because our complex is perpetually setting off the fire alarm, and every time they show up my whole team fawns over them like they’re walking sex gods and I don’t really Get It.

But y’all. Two firefighters came into my store this morning, and I Get It. Because that woman was so goddamn attractive, with her dark eyes and her muscles and her strong hands and her charming smile and her casual confidence just lounging around like she owned the place and a;dlfghadfghdfg I have never looked at ANYONE and immediately stopped breathing but y’all it HAPPENED. This woman was so stunningly handsome that I literally cannot tell you what the other female firefighter in the room looked like beyond “I think she was blonde.”

But you know what, I’m BoH so I didn’t have to talk to the stunningly handsome firefighter, and that was fine. I minded my business and tried (and failed) not to look at her. Until the next guests came in, and I said “Hi, welcome in!” reflexively like I’m supposed to.

And this firefighter. She looked at me with this cheeky little smirk, and she said, “Hey now. You didn’t welcome me in.”

And instead of saying something coy, or charming, or clever, the words that actually came out of my mouth were: “Well, you’re very attractive, and it threw me off.”

Y’all she chuckled and she WINKED AT ME. And I’m pretty sure I died on the spot.

She was so charming that I didn’t realize until an hour later that she wasn’t wearing a mask and I’d forgotten to be annoyed about it.

So today I get to work and my boss hands me my paperwork and… a lighter. A nondescript blue plastic lighter, which I flip over a couple of times looking for initials and then, not seeing any, I ask, “Whose is this?”

“It’s for you,” my boss says, with that look on his face like he’s trying not to give away the punchline of a joke.

And y’all, it’s relatively early in the morning. I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep lately. I haven’t had my coffee yet. So forgive me, because my dumb gay ass asks, “What for?”

Which it turns out is exactly what he wants me to ask, because he says with a big grin, “Heard you wanted to get someone’s attention at the fire department.”

All day long at regular intervals he points out flammable objects around the store.

I swear my entire team is out to get me.

Out to get you??? I have had some amazing bosses, but I’ve never had one that encouraged me to set fire to my place of business for the purposes of improving my love life.

OP alignment: Disaster Gay

Boss alignment: Chaotic Ally

The ultimate wingman

the alignments align perfectly

I love everyone in this story!

You are Isildur’s heir, not Isildur himself. You are not bound to his fate. The same blood flows in my veins. The same weakness.

why do mosquitoes have to leave itchy bites. cant they just drink blood w/o ruining my day, like i have a lot of blood, u can have some, this is just excessive

Not sure who needs to see this, but if a Service Dog starts backing into you, pushing you away from their handler, or they sit down at a leash distance from their handler

You Should Move Away.

They are performing a task known as "spacing" or "blocking" that helps reduce or prevent anxiety in their handler.

They are NOT "asking for pets" or being disobedient or asking to be spoken to. All you have to do is stay back from the dog and handler.

This is not a capslock PSA because I'm not sure how many people that don't have a SD actually know this is a trained task.

I did NOT know and this is both very cool that SDs can be trained for this, and very important that we all know how to respect it.