Please May *I* Have A Job, Employment Jelly?

Thank you

Content Warning: religion and transphobia⚠️

Happy Trans Day of Visibility 🏳️‍⚧️ I made a comic reflecting on my church upbringing as an eXvangelical trans person. The Jesus conservative Christians claim to represent looked lot more like many of the LGBTQ+ friends I know and love. Just some food for thought 💖

but i'm huunnngggrrryyyyyyyy :(

annual reminder not to feed the ghosts! yes I know it seems like a cute tradition, but these are wild spirits with specialized diets, and humans unintentionally cause serious havoc by interfering with their ectosystem

House is an atheist. We know this. He tells us often, with bitterness and certainty. He rejects the idea of God, of souls, of cosmic meaning. He dissects faith like he dissects symptoms: a fragile delusion, beautiful maybe, but ultimately dangerous. For House, belief is the enemy of truth. Religion is a sedative for the desperate. He doesn’t believe in miracles—he performs them under fluorescent lights, scalpels, and sarcastic monologues.

And yet, the entire show is draped in religious imagery.

The irony is deliberate. The tension is constant. House, M.D. is not a show about religion, but it is deeply religious in structure and tone. It’s a modern-day gospel about suffering, sacrifice, and the endless question of whether redemption is possible for people who are fundamentally broken.

And at the heart of that contradiction—at the center of House’s reluctant, silent religion—is Wilson.

Wilson, the oncologist. The caregiver. The forgiver. The one person who doesn’t try to fix House, just stays. In House’s world of godless suffering and brutal honesty, Wilson becomes the impossible constant. A living parable. A symbol of grace. He is not just House’s friend—he is House’s church. The only place he returns to. The only place he trusts.

Despite everything he says, House believes in Wilson the way people believe in God—not in certainty, but in need. In faith. When everything else fails (medicine, logic, self-destruction) it’s Wilson’s presence that remains. Not because he proves anything, but because he chooses to stay.

Wilson is where House goes when nothing else makes sense.

And this is where Amber enters—because Amber is crucial to understanding the show’s theology.

Amber isn’t just Wilson’s girlfriend or a romantic foil. She’s a vessel. A sacrifice. A holy symbol burned into the center of House and Wilson’s dynamic. She represents the cost of belief. And her death is House’s Fall.

Amber is cast in religious imagery from the start—sharp and shining, dressed in clean lines, commanding presence. She’s the only woman who matches House in intellect, in stubbornness, in biting wit. But while House uses those qualities to alienate, Amber uses them to love. To claim. She chooses Wilson with a kind of divine certainty, and House both resents and envies it.

And then she dies—because House called her.

Because House, in a drug-fueled haze, reached out for Wilson and accidentally destroyed the one person Wilson loved most.

Amber becomes a martyr. She dies for House’s sin. The sin of needing Wilson, of being selfish, of reaching out without understanding the cost. Her death is sacrificial. She absorbs the consequences of House’s weakness. And it shatters Wilson’s faith. In House. In meaning. In everything.

But here’s the terrifying, beautiful part: even then, Wilson comes back.

Not immediately. Not easily. But he returns. He forgives. He chooses House again, knowing the damage he can cause.

And isn’t that what religion is, at its most painful?

The choice to return.

The choice to love something that hurts you.

The choice to find meaning, even in suffering.

From that point on, House is haunted—literally and metaphorically. Amber appears to him as a ghost. A judge. A reminder. Her presence during his Vicodin-fueled breakdowns is a vision, not unlike biblical visitations: accusatory, radiant, always asking questions he doesn’t want to answer. She becomes a conscience, a prophet of pain. Not just Wilson’s loss, but House’s guilt made flesh.

And House listens.

Because he believes her.

Because he believes in what she represents: that his actions matter. That pain has consequences. That love, once given, leaves an eternal mark.

That’s the thing. For all his denial, House’s life is shaped by faith—just not in any god he’ll name.

His god is Wilson.

His gospel is logic.

His demons are guilt, pain, and the memory of Amber in that white, frozen bus.

His sacraments are Vicodin.

His confessionals are sarcasm and silence.

His moments of worship are quiet, rare, and often happen when Wilson isn’t looking.

But it’s faith all the same.

When Wilson gets cancer, everything crashes again. This time, House can’t save him. There’s no diagnosis to solve, no miracle to pull from his bag of tricks. He is powerless. Human. And finally he understands the most terrifying truth of all: he can’t live in a world where Wilson doesn’t exist.

So he dies. Or pretends to.

He sets fire to his life. He lets everyone believe he’s gone. He chooses exile, isolation, and total obliteration of self—all so he can spend a few final months beside the man who has always been his moral center, his constant, his quiet divinity.

That’s not just friendship. That’s religion.

A god falls from the sky. A believer lays down his crown. A sinner chooses love over truth. A cynic learns how to pray—not with words, but with presence.

And isn’t that the most blasphemous, beautiful faith of all?

Petitions - UK Government and Parliament

Petition: Legally enshrine the right of adults to physically transition using NHS services

Introduce a law to legally protect the right of those aged 18 and over to transition using NHS services. This should specifically cover phys

Uk peeps!! Let’s get this going! 🏳️‍⚧️🇬🇧

Why am I allowed outside?

January 26, 2025

This song has single-handedly taken over my life and it’s only been like a week

AO3?

Tumblr can't go down because where else will you find niche porn writings

I am a mother of my children. I want your help to care for them. Please, I want to escape outside the country to treat my child and

start a new life away from the destruction.I have an autistic child who suffers from chronic kidney failure. I need medicines and health care, and because of the war on my city, I am unable to bring expensive medicines.I am suffering. I see my children sleeping without adequate cover or food, and skin diseases are spreading among them and me, and no one cares. I cannot buy detergents or medicine. I have a sick child with autism, who does not speak or hear, who is physically and mentally disabled, and who has kidney failure. and Please, you are our only hope in this situation we are going through. Through your donation to us, we will find safety and meet our basic needs. Donate $10 or $20, enough to protect my family from danger. If you cannot

donate, you can republish my story through your page through your friends in my last post on my page.🍉🇵🇸 https://gofund.me/bf16d08d

I know almost no one will see this, but I hope it makes a difference somehow.

"Why though?" You ask. I should maim and kill, you think. Join the army maybe.

Grow, it insists. Create something, you think. It pulls you toward your mother's fields.

Oh how the tables turn, it thinks. You think, 'what?'

Nevermind. The soil turns green under your fingertips and soon all the red is gone.

You crave blood, and you compel your wielder to obtain it. "Go, kill and maim" But a psychically deaf peasant found you, unable to compel them they shaped you into a plow. That farmer is now dead, and as a new human finds you they are compelled yet again "Go, sow and grow"