posting this from the back seat of the fuckig logicmobile wtf wtf wtf wtf
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@itsmyknife
posting this from the back seat of the fuckig logicmobile wtf wtf wtf wtf
big fan of the concept of constantly sleep deprived virgil. even when c!thomas is well rested. virgil wipes off his eyeshadow to reveal the worlds worst eyebags. virgil constantly drinking something caffeinated (even tho it’s awful for his. well. anxiety). virgil falling asleep at 7 am and waking up before noon. he would like very badly to sleep. however he is so so bad it
WHAT I’M SAYINGGGG
got my first piercing 4 days ago (snake bites!!!) so i decided my virgil design needed to gain more
all of you are stupid if you can’t see the obvious vision for kid (0-10 year old) virgil being positive anxiety ALL THE TIME. he does not have the mature life experience or the crushing embarrassment of puberty to weigh him down yet. ESPECIALLY as a very very young child he was basically the kid who wanted to do everything and go everywhere and maybe get every vinyl record ever
to be clear he is still anxious but it’s less paralysing and more motivating like nerves because c!thomas has mentioned even as an adult his levels of anxiety are relatively low, so it would make sense for a young anxiety to be more of the ‘butterflies’ than the ‘anxiety’
taking what’s not yours by tv girl is anxceit to me
Guys hear me out, Virgil having purple galaxy hair
Dramatically serenading himself in the mirror!! 👑🪞🎤
love you Roman sanders and mirror imagery BITESHIM
I’m also so obsessed with imagining all the aspects of Romans room
Also the mug is based on the head canon me and my favourite silly friend have about Patton and Roman going pottery painting, and Roman paints the most dramatic scenes of all time
Close ups and references under cut :30
all of you are stupid if you can’t see the obvious vision for kid (0-10 year old) virgil being positive anxiety ALL THE TIME. he does not have the mature life experience or the crushing embarrassment of puberty to weigh him down yet. ESPECIALLY as a very very young child he was basically the kid who wanted to do everything and go everywhere and maybe get every vinyl record ever
it’s a beautiful day to ominously wingman for your unwilling vessel
im back. and this time its personal.
so im even busier than ever
hey guysss so unfortunately the rumors are true and im leaving the narrative. Buttt the good news is my absence will create such a gaping hole in your lives that it will become a sort of presence itself, and so in a way it will kind of be like i never left! But i am. Leaving just to be clear.
always obsessed with early 20s! virgil being a complete loser. and current him also being a loser but more cool about it. like he is inherently the representation of teen angst and all these spiraling anxious very “chalant” feelings and it’s just fun to lean into the rodrick-ness of it
I don’t think it should be on Nico to make Thomas realize his worth or anything like that, but damn do I want to see a moment where they’re in some situation where Thomas is being his overly-selfless self again which prompts Nico to ask “what about you?” and Thomas responding with “what about me?” because he doesn’t think that he matters.
My beloved mutuals are turning my 0 note flop posts into 1 note cult classics
“Long Train Journeys” by Jordan Bolton
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I laminated a paper towel
why does this have 31 thousand notes
You made it useless but also prevented it from the end it was predestined for.
But wait this is actually freaking me out though, it raises so many questions about the otherwise incomprehensible meaning of life as a collective whole versus personal sustenance and longevity
Imagine if one day you were given a choice: Become immortal and indestructible for eternity, unable to be harmed by anything ever again, and get to live forever.
However, in order to achieve that you must give up whatever your purpose in life is. Whatever it is that you were always meant to do, what you were supposed to contribute to the overall scheme and future of the life of the universe, your purpose… the whole reason you were even created, even born in the first place. You must give that up. You don’t know what that is. You’ll never know; But, regardless, you say yes.
Perhaps you assume you wouldn’t have made any sort of significant difference anyway. That butterfly effect theory or whatever they call it? Nah, you call bullshit. It doesn’t matter - you don’t matter, at least not to anything outside of your immediate connections - and it’ll all be fine, and you’ll just live forever with minimal (or maybe even no) consequences.
So, yay! You’re now immortal. You’ll never die or get hurt ever again. Wee!
But then, centuries and centuries later (not to mention that by this point you’ve gone through horrible heartbreak and misery and despair because every loved one you ever had, every friend you ever made, ever person you barely got to know, has passed away, died as you lived on long without them, helpless to do anything for them as you watched them perish, unable to ever go with them or ever see them again. But I digress), now, you learn you actually were important in the grand scheme of things. You were supposed to be a key factor in the world’s survival, long ago; but, because of the choice you made (immortality over individual purpose), you were never given the knowledge or awareness or resources or ability to save the world that you were always supposed to obtain, before you unknowingly made the wrongest choice to ever wrong.
Needless to say, you’ve fucked up big time.
The entire universe as we know it is destroyed soon after this horrifying revelation. It implodes, collapses in on itself, essentially forming a massive black hole or something. Stars, nebulae, galaxies, solar systems and planets, worlds and worlds of living people and things, and light-years of time and space and life, all sucked up into absolute, indefinite nothingness.
But you remain.
Just you. Floating amongst, spiraling around, rocketing through, suspended in… nothing. With a feeling of such unbelievable loneliness that your feeble brain can hardly perceive, can’t possibly hope to comprehend. Not only are you the only living thing left, you don’t even have one inanimate object to keep you company. You have literally. Nothing. And you are literally nowhere. I mean, technically, you are now the universe - if it would bring you petty comfort to think about it that way. You. Only you. With nothing, no one, nowhere. Forever. And ever. And ever.
All because you thought you didn’t matter. That you had no real, meaningful purpose. That you could never possibly make a difference.
But you did. And now look what you’ve gotten yourself into, you silly nugget. You’re gonna be pretty bored and lonely for that eternity, huh?
Or maybe it was out of selfishness. Maybe this wasn’t because you felt useless, but because you simply only cared about prolonging your own life and nothing else. Hm.
The moral here? Be selfless, and always know and remember that you matter.
Or else, one day, you might destroy the universe. And be left to suffer, and be tortured horribly and endlessly by the void of nothingness that has consumed you. With no way to escape. Ever.
Other moral because I got sidetracked from my initial point - all things considered, would you choose longevity over purpose? Immortality over meaning?
OR, IDK, MAYBE SOME IDIOT JUST LAMINATED A STUPID PIECE OF PAPER TOWEL FOR NO GOOD REASON
AND MAYBE I SHOULDNT BE LOOKING FOR THE ANSWERS TO THE MEANING OF OUR SHORT, FRAGILE LIVES IN
A LAMINATED
PAPER
T OW E L
IDK MAN,
I D K
Write. A. Book.
What if I did write a book
and the pages of that book
were made out of
laminated
paper towels
I WASNT GONNA REBLOG UNTIL THAT LAST COMMENT