L’aptitude au bonheur
s’acquiert pendant l’enfance et tout
enfant maltraité, mal-aimé, oublié, en
gardera des blessures irréparables qui,
à jamais, hypothéqueront son avenir
et sa capacité à être heureux…
V. H. SCORP
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Dreamed of some place in Canticle where a bunch of people worked together to build something. They had no time for a break and they had a strict deadline that had nothing to do with the sun. We followed a Rosharian, who turned out to be Nomad's apprentice, and had one of these ultra symmetric names (from Natanan?? I think???).
They had a system to make sure they didn't get distracted: an upload thought button, that they hit and then they hit the delete/trash bin button below.
I don't remember much but at some point they asked Apprentice if he was an offworlder and the reference picture they showed him was of Kaladin. Apprentice knew him but couldn't place who he was. Nomad ended up showing up (because he had stayed on Canticle) and so did *drumroll for suspense* Kaladin! Apprentice was like ooooh so that's where I saw their reference for an offworlder before! And turns out he was one of the bridge men. Kaladin and Apprentice are super friendly.
So at some point Nomad and Kaladin meet and Nomad is suuuuper surprised because by all means he shouldn't be alive, as it's been centuries since he left Roshar. Apprentice Saif "eeeh it happens" and we don't get the confirmation but many were theorizing about Kaladin being Honor's vessel or something, what with him being Son of Tanavast or something.
And Nomad and Kaladin s'engueulent mais en même temps sont émus aux larmes parce que bordel ça fait longtemps, tout ça. Kaladin now had the Bridge Four tattoos on his forehead, but Nomad no longer had them.
For the stats: not there in this dream. i was in another part of the dream, that I don't remember apart from asking me to put swimming glasses on but upside down, where I was called legal name and my gender was. weird. bigender but in a 25% boy 75% girl kind of way. That was fun.
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But you're still the one I would choose. I know I already said that, but today it hit me again. You're still the one I would choose. In a room full of people who love me, of people whom i love, in a room full of people with whom it would be easier. It would still be you. Every single time, after all this time. I would pick you. Given the choice, you'd be the one still.
It scares me, it makes me question everything all the time. Like, loving you will always be the only secret I will keep to myself with the people I will date and fall in love with. And it feels like lying sometimes, it doesn't feel right, because I know I would be devastated if I was second best. But it's the raw and awful truth. They'll be second best. And I feel like this will never, ever end.
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Un sourire de
toi, nos mains entremêlées,
un tendre et doux baiser, nos
corps entrelacés et voilà que
soudain, moi, je me sens
si bien…
V. H. SCORP
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and i found THESE in my notes
well damn
(images in text form below the cut)
page 299
(“your weakness rings true, but it is a show of strength as it is trust, it does not make me degrade you, all your sentiments exposed are safely locked between here with just you and me.”)
“So tell me, isn’t it a rather (secure/a pleasant weather/safe/peaceful/tranquil/nice) time we’re having/sharing right now/at the moment?”
She smiled. And finally, he saw. The storm. She let him see. It was finally letting itself seen.
(It was a signal. And there waited, a response.)
1
(a response, as a tear, a one he discretely felt,
then another,
and another,
into a stream,
his own storm,
letting itself known,
shown, exposed,
yet with, within,
unquelled yet drowned, covered, heaved, {coyingly perhaps} wrapped around the prolonged, cast, mute unmuted storm, and he broke.)
(and he crumpled, within, her arms, her eyes, the ones she let himself entrance-)
he cried
and wept.
he let himself.
(processed the storm, after so long the storm had been processed him, or was it the opposite, he couldn’t tell. everything in a cumulative singular blender. it, he, hurt.
thunder.
and yet, in full tandem. the oddly definition, came the opposite. still in the storm, as the storm, he continued. he was let, the raid during on, the endless relentless, downpour on his face, made understood he, felt peace.
lightning, struck.
the walls, undeft yet daft as he, fell over.
page 300
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it was raw.
as all storms are.
the rawest he’d ever been.
(he remembered
his mind
swelt out the all,
for when he had taken,
for when he was taken.
all the times he was tortured. (the word tied definition he had personally himself made out over the general, existing one.)
for when she had been gone
and when he had lost her
as decayed, it wasn’t an almost.)
he relieved. (though not for the first time, the most intense.)
all, at once.)
2
(if the(his) wracks were loud enough to leave the room,
they were unidentified
as they were unrecognized
as they were unprecented
as they always had been silent
(lest they know they had existed at all, in mute, peeled away, as a mule.))
(never had they wittnessed such a storm.)
((yet again.) unsurprisingly. they failed to acknowledge.)
he smiled.
despite himself,
despite the rain (that was) still falling young.
(more fell (out)more when he realized that little spark, the crack just now (that he had forbidden and had been forbidden) was the happiest(secured) he’d ever been in the last decade.)
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It would be fun to convince a child to start a cult at their school.
The cult would be weird and have rituals but actually be a force for good. It would have mythologies that encourage creative writing and storytelling, do charity, hold meetings where members socialize and help each other, and more.
I could work with the child on making sure it turns out well. Unfortunately I don’t have any very young cousins to do this with and randomly talking to children is suspicious.
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