If U Feel Like U Dont Know What Ur Doing W Ur Life Just Remember That venus Spins Backwards And We Dont

Me waking up in the morning: Mm bed soft and comfy

Me refusing to go to bed at a reasonable hour at night: Mm screen bright and funny

#good omens s2 spoilers in the tags

#i know crowley couldve gone back with aziraphale

#but he didnt

#and also would they really have accepted him back

#in all likelihood it was just a bribe to get aziraphale to go back

#this post is so them coded

hey uhhh but fr the concept of fallen angels existing but risen demons being an impossibility is kind of a great summary of sin in christianity

I have a friend who has one biological and one adopted son and I found out he likes to tell people “my firstborn is six and my other child is eleven” which is hilarious.

Me: I need a library card, but I just moved so I don’t have an ID with my address or any mail with it.

Librarian: -slides me a blank library postcard- Write your address on this like it would be mailed to you.

Me: Sure?

Librarian: -takes it back- Great! Now we have mail with your address on it!

Me: …does it really work that way?

Librarian: the rules don’t say it DOESN’T work that way. Here’s your new library card!

What they don’t say is how the storm doesn’t knock on the door. It gets into your shoes, climbs into your lungs, you try to smile but your face doesn’t know how, you try to speak but your throat is filled with water and people keep telling you it’ll pass but what they mean is: "they hope you survive it"

they mean: "please stay long enough to see the sun again" and you nod because it’s easier than saying “I’m already gone.”

But you keep walking or crawling, or dragging yourself by your own breath. You make it through a minute and another and a thousand more. You don’t even notice the moment the storm starts to pass. You just look up one day and the sky is…not clear, but softer.

You laugh and it doesn’t feel like lying.

You cry and it feels like release, not drowning.

And no, you don’t remember how you survived. You don’t remember each battle you had with your own mind or the nights you wanted to disappear.

but you’re still here and that means something, even if your voice trembles, even if you don’t know what comes next.

You stayed.

You stayed.

You stayed.

someone get this poor man a chair for the love of god

Thirty love letters? That’s...wow. Whoever they’re for must’ve lit up something rare in you. Kinda makes me wonder what it’d be like to be written about like that

I didn’t write them because I was full of love. I wrote them because I was starving for it. Because I kept trying to turn pain into poetry and it still tasted like blood in the end.

Each letter is a small funeral, a small place to bury a dream that never got to live. I wrote to hands that never reached back. To eyes that never looked at me like I mattered, to ghosts that haunt the shape of love but never stay long enough to be real.

I wrote them because no one told me how quiet heartbreak could be, how it doesn’t always scream, how sometimes it just sits next to you like a tired friend and watches you rot from the inside out. They were just things I needed to say before they drowned me.

Things like:

I miss you even though there was never a you.

I love you even though no one ever stayed long enough to be loved.

Don’t go even though they already did.

I wrote thirty love letters and someday, someone will find them and pretend they were about them but I’ll know the truth.

They were for the hollowness, for the version of me that begged for someone to stay and learned that no one does.

i always click the "track package" button as soon as i get the email. "oh boy i wonder where my package is!" warehouse.

i imagine someone saying to aziraphale something about making peace with your demons, and him completely missing the point and just pulling teeny crowley out of his pocket and just going "oh well, I've done more than that, I've made friends with mine 🥰" (vague spoilers in the tags)

FOUND family??? you think i just found them like this??? babes this is FORGED family. Me & the bros were scrap metal in a junkyard (very valuable, very sharp, very dangerous, uncared for) and we GOT IN THE FUCKING FIRE TOGETHER. WE did this. we said I AM NOT LEAVING YOU and melted into each other for better or for worse (it’s for better) and we are A FUNCTIONAL UNIT now. DO NOT SEPARATE. BATTERIES FUCKING INCLUDED. FOUND family my ass, we built this non-nuclear family unit from the ground up, don’t devalue this!!! it was is and will be a labour of love!!!