Seeing A Coworker/classmate Sitting To The Side And Reading A Book While On Their Break And Then Coming

dont tag bible stuff as mythology God isnt mythology

hi hello how are you. most if not all story-based religions are in fact considered mythology by definition including the abrahamic religions. god is in fact abrahamic mythos whether you think he’s real or not. im sorry if that upsets you but im assuming this is regarding the post i just reblogged and i have to say im surprised the part you’re upset about is me tagging biblicalia as mythology and not the entire discussion on who tops in jesus/judas ship discourse

tv shows used to have episodes....

in a medieval groupchat nobody would make fun of your typo they would just assume that its a new spelling youre going with and roll with it

One of the biggest issues of moving to England as a person who is Ukrainian AND neurodivergent is not knowing how to answer the small talk question of "how are you", but today I was reminded that Ukrainian blessed me with the phrase that roughly translates as "living is hard but dying would be a pity" and can we please naturalise it so I can use it all day every day

dear mx university,

ever since I was a little girl I knew I wanted to become so good at my second language that I eventually become shit at my native one and then the second one also. in light of this I consider myself to be a perfect candidate for your translation studies degree. please

end personal statement

Tumblr proceeded to collectively inform me that tomato juice is a thing absolutely everywhere. My question now is how the fuck did I manage to live in the UK for three years and not see tomato juice in a single Tesco/Sainsbury's. Ukrainian exceptionalism goggles or whatever

I mentioned tomato juice in my last post, so here's a tomato juice story for your amusement.

Scene: London, UK.

Time: late 2024.

Dramatis personae:

Me, a Ukrainian, craving tomato juice like it's the only thing that can save my life.

My beloved flatmate, also a Ukrainian, going through a chronic illness flare that causes horrible brain fog.

Flatmate: I'm going to the Polish shop. Do you want anything?

Me: I do have a request, but I feel like you'll refuse to have THAT in our fridge.

Flatmate: ???

Me: Tomato juice. I'm craving tomato juice. I want tomato juice SO BAD.

Flatmate: ...only because I love you.

An hour later, my beloved flatmate enters the kitchen with a bag full of Polish groceries. I salivate at the thought of my tomato juice and run up to them.

Flatmate: Okay so I was picking between spicy and not spicy, and decided that you would want it not spicy. Here.

They proceed to hand me the following:

Me: I mean, I'll give you that, it's not spicy.

Flatmate considers terminating the lease on the spot.

Exeunt.

i am nooooot locked the fuck in. im locked the fuck out. call the locksmith

my body is a machine that turns moving into clickity-clackity

nothing more flattering than someone saying "oh don't get her going" in reference to you when a topic you're passionate about is brought up