Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to enroll in a Classics course and deliberately and consistently mispronounce “Penelope” as “Peen-a-loap.”
I can’t sleep wtf
if you give me a task with no deadline i will literally never do it but if you give me a deadline i will get it done exactly 1 hour before the deadline even if the deadline is in six years
a story about my weekend: i did zero homework, i did not study for my midterm, i did absolutely nothing of worth, i got really stressed about a lot of responsibilities i have for various shows and then ignored them, i am a failure
ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE. NEC preview, guys.
You scare the hell out of me. Every hour of every God damn day. You scare me to fucking death. What will I do if you get yourself shot or blown up? What the fuck would I be out here for without you?
I have a theory, a theory about war, and it works like this — all of us, whether we enlisted or hit the lottery, we tell ourselves stories about why we’re out here. Some guys who get the draft say it’s God’s plan for them, and some guys who enlist say they’re doin it for Uncle Sam or their sweethearts or their mamas, or maybe even their shellshocked daddies.
I didn’t come to war for you and I didn’t fight to keep it away. The way I got out here was cowardly. But the more I fought the more I told myself my story. It’s so much easier when you’re telling yourself a story. Because the truth is that we’re not here for God or for our nation or even for our families or our sweethearts. Maybe we think so at first or we convince ourselves afterwards, which is easy enough to do when you’re humping through the muck or trying not to die cold in the forest. When you’re in the field it’s a different story. And suddenly all the pretty pictures you’ve painted fade away and all that’s left is the ugly gore and sweat. It turns out that there’s not one God damn thing that’s glorious about death, and you’re not out here for them. You’re out here because that’s just the way the chips fell.
I told you, you heard me, I told you never to follow me into Hell. Now I’m not vain enough to think that’s why you’re out here now — if there’s any person in what’s left of this God forsaken planet who’s part of a bigger picture, it’d be you. But I’ll keep saying it until it sticks. You got nothing to prove. Quit taking the bullet. I’m not worth much, I damn well know that, but I’ll ask you anyway: Stay for me. If you leave me alone in this world I’ll turn into something terrible. I’ll turn into the nasty creature that’s growing inside me. This war, it’ll swallow me whole.
The 🙏 Holy 🙏 Trinity 🙏
Thinkin about breakfast sandwiches oh my god
ok but: sam wilson morning person extraordinaire and steve “i woke up at 5 fucking am like 16 times just so i could bump into you, sam. fuck you for waking up so early to go on your stupid runs. I DON’T EVEN NEED TO RUN i just wanted to see your stupid face” rogers
have you ever been so high that you and your friend look at pictures of liam payne and sit there touching his nose and going “BOOP”