@millenniallust4death / millenniallust4death.tumblr.com
I love that photo of Martin and Bosco playing at the water park. Every time I see it it makes my day. Do you have any other favourite photos of them together, if you're up for sharing? I totally understand if you don't feel up to it tho, so no pressure!
Thank you! It's so cool that you enjoy the blaze photo too.
I love these candid photos of Martin and Bosco. They were always having conversations with each other.
You’re my present this year.
Y'all need to STOP
Merry Christmas y’all
Merry Christmas @millenniallust4death :3
Oh come on lady, you can't deny a man his gaycation
You must surrender yourself mind, body and soul to the gaycation or be destroyed
Someone on reddit already suggested a sapphibbatical
Someone on reddit
already suggested a
sapphibbatical
Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.
how could you leave out the best part—the aquarium bit
"become a fish" (gay)
men will jump through an entire circus' worth of hoops rather than admitting they're bi
The level of mental hoops that guy had to jump through to say to his wife, "No, honey! Of course I wouldn't be cheating on you! Sex during gaycations doesn't count!"
Holy fucking shit! It gets trippier!
I mean, I feel horrible for the OP and her SIL...but "surrender to the gaycation" made me laugh way more than I should have.
like ideologically I disagree with capitalism but I do love shopping. I'm a shopper. I take my little coins and I get treats in return.
Give me a heartwarming Christmas movie about Satan traveling around the world every Christmas to deliver presents to all the young kids and kids with learning disorders and disabilities who misspell “Santa” on their Christmas letters every year
And Santa’s all like, “You know, I can handle a few spelling mistakes, I got this,” and Lucifer is like “They’re addressed to me, fuck off, I’m doing it.”
Lucifer being protective of his fanmail is ceaselessly entertaining.
Lucifer: hey big guy I need your list because I don’t know what these kids want for christmas and you’ve got all the info. Santa: this isn’t your holiday Lucifer: yeah well james here doesn’t fucking know that so give me the list, he asked for Satan
National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989)
Due to a typo, your local store/mall/etc. put out a request for an appearance by Satan instead of Santa. He follows through with the request.
He shows up and reads through the entire job contract, notes the spelling ‘Santa’ and just corrects each one with a red pen. He eyes the mall representative, who is sweating bullets, but says nothing about the fact that the contracts he’s making are with children, or that they don’t involve souls of any kind. He signs on the bottom line in a strange, bony quill. There’s a strange red flash, and the mall rep is super reluctant to ask. Or touch the contract.
Satan wears the red suit and the hat and the boots, if awkwardly (those cloven hooves, don'tchaknow).
The elves stand well away, but he’s hardly bothered by that, casually waiting on a throne that’s far more cheerful and composed of significantly less bone than the one he’s used to. The children are hesitant at first, until a little girl marches up, sans-parents, and plops herself on his knee, looking up at him with the set jaw of someone who isn’t interested in this farce.
“I want a pony,” she says with a roll of her eyes. She’s no more than nine. He arches an eyebrow “Do you?” he asks. She scoffs.
“Tch, no, but you’re just a man in a suit, it’s not like you can’t get me what I want.” He smiles at her assertiveness and steeples his fingers, careful not to jostle her from her perch. “Try me.” She narrows her eyes at him, studying his inscrutable face before folding her arms. “There’s a bully at my school, and I want him to go away,” she said. His eyebrow arched a little higher and he tilted his head. “And if I do this, I believe the standard contract is that you will be a ‘good girl’ and behave appropriately towards your most favored parent?’ he replied. The child rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure,” she says. He nods and holds out his hand, which curls around hers entirely when she puts hers out.
“It will be done.”
After that, the children are a lot less hesitant, although several adults attempt to leave. Several hundred bargains are made. For toys. For new family. For present family to suffer. For puppies. And kittens. For understanding. For acceptance.
He declines anything borne of pettiness - of momentary squabbles between jealous children - and redirects them towards more productive desires.
He turns away anyone over the age of eighteen, though several adults attempt to approach. Later they are plagued with horrible nightmares.
At the end of each day, he returns to the underworld and assembles teams of demons, handing out assignments to each of them, to be researched heavily and then executed the night of December 24th. The demons are confused, but do as they’re told, because the dark lord’s edicts are undeniable. His secretary gives him an odd look, but Satan is immune to searching looks, and says nothing, just retires to his room, gets up in the morning, has his coffee, and returns to the mall, donning the suit and heading for the chair.
At the end of the week, he has made more than a thousand deals. The demon hordes are scurrying back and forth between hell and the physical plane.
There are many confused parents, come Christmas morning. Some find themselves with various pets they don’t remember registering for. Others with children. Others still find that their children have undergone some sort of personality shift, to the delight of their siblings.
The first girl is bitter in her heart as she opens gifts, until a letter is personally delivered by a strange mailman, detailing the removal of a teacher from the school she attends. She reads and rereads the letter after her parents finish with it, heart beating strangely lighter in her chest. Her parents are bemused and delighted about the hugs she gives them, and about the enthusiasm with which she ravages her other presents.
They are far less bemused by the black, hellfire-maned pony that is left on their doorstep, a tag attached to the pommel of the saddle that reads, ‘To Katie, Regards, Satan’
best.
the best Christmas story I have read so far
its open wounds wednesday dont forget to bleed out
You’re my present this year.
its christmas eve and look whos on tumblr
all of us
Jesus also spent Christmas in a barn full of animals
airplane tickets should be free if you have internet friends you reaaaaaaally want to hang out with
its christmas eve and look whos on tumblr
all of us
@millenniallust4death FINE BITCH *unceremoniously tosses this into the void, stuffed into an empty Chewy box and haphazardly wrapped with newspaper*
I don’t deserve this.
“Like this,” Barton ordered, and dropped his whisk on the counter. He moved to stand behind her, reaching around to take both of her hands in his and show her how quickly she was meant to be stirring. “Don’t ruin my breakfast, yeah?” he added. He ruffled her hair and went back to his own pot.
She gave him a theatrical scowl then bit her tongue to clamp down on the smile she could feel tugging at her mouth.
The world was too bright, too warm, the heat of the kitchen reflecting the blossom of heat in her chest as her stomach did an idiotic little swoop she didn’t care to examine.
This doesn’t belong to me.
“You’re done!”
She took her cue and scraped the melted marshmallows into a glass mixing bowl, then leaned against the counter and licked the spatula. Barton gave her a grin, so genuinely authentic and happy that she felt her brow draw together before she remembered to return the expression.
How? How had he learned to take the moment for his own, revel in it, carve out a place to be comfortable?
She watched snow flurries dance across the window, glittering in the orange light of the sunrise, and even that felt wrong. This morning was meant for someone else.
“Don’t destroy the good, remember?”
“Huh?”
“You’ve been fighting with yourself all morning. Every time you get too comfortable, you close yourself off again. C’mere.” He clicked off the stove and held out his hands.
What did he want now? Not a hug, he didn’t hold his arms out wide.
She didn’t mind - even liked - the little affectionate gestures when he forced them on her: grabbing her hand or mussing her hair or nudging her with a shoulder. But this, offering and waiting for her to accept, to admit that she wanted the interaction to happen…
She balked too long. Clint leaned into her space and took both her hands in his with an eye roll.
you guys literally are all so brave. even through the screen i can tell. keep going
“It’s Christmas, Nat,” Tony hovers, his faceplate off, even though the rest of the suit is on.
“Why are you out here?”
