Write a love-hate story between the monster under the bed and the monster in the closet.
I am Fear. I am Dread. I am the Monster that lives in his closet. And I am failing.
She is the reason I am failing. She lives beneath his bed. She whispers sweet nothings in his ears. She sings him to sleep. When his little foot peeps out from the covers, she slips it gently back between the sheets before I can grab it. I do not know where She comes from. I do not know how the boy tamed Her. Perhaps it was his mother, inventing a new fairy tale, reassuring him, “Yes there is a monster under the bed. She keeps it clean and free from dust bunnies. Do not fear. She’s a friendly monster.”
I am not a friendly monster.
And I am failing.
She keeps me from him. I try to get close, to hover over him, to creep up from behind, but every time she surrounds him, shelters him.
It breaks my heart.
Every night I try to explain. She watches me in silence. She does not move, does not respond. Possibly she does not hear.
I try to explain. I do only my duty. I was created for him. I am his Monster, his first one. Children need fear. To prepare them. Children need monsters to defeat. Because a few years from now, that child will not be a child. He will grow and he will forget and he will face a world that is more painful and cruel than any fright I could give him. Children cannot control their world, and the cruelties adults inflict, or simply fail to prevent. I do not create fear. It exists, everywhere, in all the nooks and crannies, all the uncertainties of the world. I merely shape it, give it an image. I give the child a battle to fight. To win.
This creature, who is lovely to be sure, who glows and twinkles and has no claws, this creature, made up of faith and confidence, made up of adult lies and, yes, a glint of anger—impossible not to be drawn to this creature, who offers reassurance and warm breath and the scent of peppermint.
And I am a boogeyman, with all that implies. And I must do my duty. I fight her, night after night. The boy needs me. She cannot protect him always. And if I do not exist, there is nothing for him to defeat. Instead the fear will settle over him in a cloud, indefinable, insidious. It will cover him like sand, like burs.
I give fear its shape, but I am not Fear. I am Courage.
The Netherlands democratically puts a list of the 2000 best songs together every year around New Year’s and the biggest mystery every time is whether Bohemian Rhapsody wins again
i’m serious, if it doesn’t win, it’s second place
every winner before 2005 is Bohemian Rhapsody as well
why arent we talking about the constant presence of hotel california
elaienar said: That’s terrifying and I approve 100%.
WELL HERE IS THE THING, RIGHT? black holes you basically literally have to be in their gravity like pretty much on top of them to be sucked in. so that’s not really an issue. it’s TERRIFYING sure, but explains a few things which I will list:
my astronomy teacher said if you were somehow able to survive entering a black hole and reached the bottom or singularity, the way time works is that you would be able to see the entire universe laid out – like you’d know when the universe ended if you looked back outwards
which falls into line with the idea that the angels know all of time and everything except when it will all end precisely (or scientifically, the collapse of this universe is unknown, but supposing angels were black holes they would see until this unknown point)
matter falling into a black hole creates a disc of light which is probably among the literal BRIGHTEST things in the universe
there are angels which are supposed to be the wheels of God’s Chariot, so it would make sense if, according to theories, that there ARE massive blackholes at the center of all galaxies which is what cause them to rotate, and those black holes are angels which make the galaxy spin.
black holes were formed sometime after the big bang, which lines into the story of creation, that the angels came after the universe.
angels can choose to physically manifest like humans, but aren’t actually. it’s said that you cannot survive looking at them or hearing them directly. NASA says that the “note” a black hole emits is the deepest sound found in the universe. i am just guessing here but you would probably die if you heard it up close instead of a bazillion light years away. ALSO side note cool fact apparently that “note”: “…It’s worth pointing out that the “sound” in question is 57 octaves (and one semitone) below middle C, which makes it 247×2−57≈1.71×10−15Hz, or one whole cycle every 18.5 million years.” CRAZY RIGHT although apparently some sing other notes and basically if there’s anything people know about angels it is that they DEFINITELY SING. anyways you can’t see black holes but you can see the things around them and the soundwaves surrounding them.
also apparently scientists picked up a death “scream” of a star falling into a black hole but like…
anyways literally every angel is terrifying BE NOT AFRAID “haha okay but i’m crying though is that cool”
black holes are probably angels. i’m just saying.
this is exactly the kind of weird christian gnostic-empiricist apologia i like to see on my dash
Reblogging for the Christian gnostic-empiricist apologia.
this is my post, and it’s based on Jewish theology, not Christianity.
Condition your teacher to get the fuck out of the class
Think about this in the context of performing feminity. So many women deny that they have been influenced to shave, wear makeup, wear heels, etc and claim they do it for themselves. But when you are receiving compliments and are getting treated better when you do those things, you are definitely being influenced.
So, if you’re like me and work in a place with public bathrooms, you most likely have seen this shit before. Some racist fuck graffiti’d up your bathroom with nazi bullshit with a permanent marker.
Tired of this bullshit? Me too, so I’m gonna show you how to get rid of it nice and quick!
The tools you need: A cleaner appropriate for the surface, the appropriate tool to to wipe said surfaces, and the crucial piece: A dry erase marker.
It’s embarrassingly easy to get rid of and is gonna make those nazi fucks upset that we don’t tolerate their bullshit.
Just grab your marker…
…and draw over it
then you spray it with your cleaner and then… wipe
ta-fucking-da
now you too can use your new-found hack to get rid of sharpie graffiti
remember kids: fuck fascists, fuck nazis and racists, and fuck white supremacy
In 2019 we grow from sex positivity to sex responsibility, meaning we:
call out shitty people who are just abusers and using kink/polyamory to mask it and stop supporting them
recognize that sometimes hypersexuality can be a form a self-harm for some people
keep kinks and fetishes in appropriate spaces and not bringing them out into general public spaces and thereby involving people in scenes they aren’t consenting to
understand that some fetishes are inherently unhealthy and some illegal to actually engage in for good reason and ignoring that is irresponsible at best
The-Lounge 