I appreciate art and beauty of all kinds, especially storytelling. For fun, I mostly play role-playing or video games, but I'm also an aspiring writer and dabble a bit in music. I've recently taken up Historical European Martial Arts (specifically Meyer's...
Whatever you do, you are doing great in your ancestors eyes!
The makes me happy
Where’s that post talking about having the ghosts of one’s illiterate-and-starving peasant ancestors standing behind them cheering them on as they cram an entire samosa into their mouth?
This post has that energy.
Your ancestors who lived on cabbages and turnips are in awe of your wealth and your diet.
Your ancestors who toiled and labored their entire lives are joyful at your leisure time.
Your ancestors who could not read are amazed at how many pages of fanfiction you’ve written, even if all you write are false starts and drabbles.
Your ancestors whose entire artistic experience was finding a pretty rock while out hunting mammoths with a pointy stick are delirious with pride over your doodles and sketches.
However much you may feel like a failure by the standards of today, your life and accomplishments have already surpassed the wildest dreams of hundreds and thousands of your ancestors.
as much as the concept of Jesus being a fairly normal lad has its charms, im personally very intrigued by the idea of him being just… extremely weird. not even in a mystical sense, just…….staggeringly BIZZARRE.
you go to the well to get some water, and here’s Miriam’s boy, staring at the sky, completely still. his expression is unreadable. you hazard a hello and ask how he’s doing, and he slowly, unblinkingly, lowers his gaze on you (he’s 8 and is missing his frontal teeth, not that this is making you any less uncomfortable) and says “I cannot speak of the state of my being, Nathan son of Saul, my brother, but rejoice for the water you shall take today will be as pure as the soul of the children of Heaven”
…you start sweating
normal person in 1st century Nazareth: making my way downtown, walking fast
*sees J boy, 8 yo, staring at you from across the street*
normal person: walking faster
even funnier, the only person 100% on board with his Prophetic Kid Talk is his mother Miriam, an otherwise placid, absolutely normal woman around 25 or so
kid JC, coming home at twilight, a single white dove following him and chirping with weirdly human-like precision:
moth̫́er,̦͌ ̮̉i h͙̉av͔̽e ͓͗b̘̃r̞̓o̮͘u̲̒gh̟͒t̺́ you a do̗͐ṽ͙e̢͘ ͈̾m͒͢a͈̽dē̝ ỏ̘f ͈̓c̆͜l͔̂aỷ͇ aṋ̑d̳̿ g͢͞i̹̾fted̖͡ ̻͐it ͓͂w̖̿it̎͜h t̥̃h͙͒e ̨̒m̧̂i̡̍ŗ͒â̫cḷ̔è̤ ̛̻of̞̅ l̘̈i̛̦fè̳
Miriam: ! that’s my little boy :) now let’s go get ready for dinner :)
her husband Yosef, a carpenter who only marginally got signed up for this:
This post is so Christian, but it’s the spicy kind of Christian that gets you murdered by other Christians for heresy, so I’m torn.
literally biggest form of compliment i’ve ever gotten
Please look into the Infancy Gospel of Thomas, because it’s basically this. He makes birds out of clay and, uh, kills people indiscriminately.
today I had a dream that there was a species of deer called “ice deer” and every winter they’d travel up North and have their babies in a frozen cavern and the babies would be sort of comatose in the cold, and then the deer would leave the babies there and migrate South until spring, and just before the first thaw, they’d go back up North and find their babies and wait for them to thaw out and wake up and they’d nurse them.
But with the Earth getting warmer and spring coming sooner and winters being less harsh up North, the babies were starting to thaw out too early, so when the Ice Deer got to them, they’d been awake already and starved to death.
So there were only like, 300 Ice Deer left. They were bigger than elks, all white with blue antlers that even the females grew, and I realized the only solution would be to somehow lead them North every year when it started thawing. As a human I could check the weather and the ice in the North Pole and when it was time to go to the babies, even if the deer thought it was still winter.
So I had to devise a plan to get the Ice Deer to follow me North to their babies on time every spring, and it just became part of my life. I did other stuff and lived life as usual while keeping track of the weather near the end of winter and I’d be like, welp it’s time to lead the deer North, and I’d set out to find their winter home.
And a lot of people were like “this isn’t a permanent solution. We need to focus on climate change so it’s fixed for good.”
and I was like dang I know but the Ice Deer need us right now so, someone’s gotta do it? And it just became a thing I did.
me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit
mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters
me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU
Sometimes they were almost beautiful, if you didn’t think about the repercussions of their collective presence, about how they were just one big walking signpost that read “it has all gone to shit, and nothing can be good again”.
