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#just in case there was any doubt
windkonig · 18 days
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mesmerized by this gif I made of my ffxiv character
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thelavendersquid · 1 year
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I actually love the fact that it was Molly’s own Blood Maledict that knocked him unconscious and caused his death. That’s SUCH a Mollymauk way to go out. I know it wasn’t scripted but honestly that could never have been planned better, it was so in character. Reacting in the moment, doing his damn best to support his friends and tip this fight in the right direction, choosing to engage with the main enemy even when he was already on the verge of unconsciousness because Beau was and he wanted to be there with her, throwing literally everything he had into the fight, not even thinking about the consequences. He died the same way he lived. Long may he reign. 💜
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jortsbian · 4 months
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the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again
#yeehaw#1k#5k#10k#posts that got cursed. blasted. im making these tag updates after... 19 hours?#also i have been told it should say speech loss bc nonverbal specifically refers to the permanent state. did not know that!#unfortunately i fear it is so far past containment that even if i edited it now it would do very little. but noted for future reference#edit 2: nvm enough ppl have come to rb it from me directly that i changed the wording a bit. hopefully this makes sense#also. in case anyone is curious. though i doubt anyone who is commenting these things will check the original tags#1) my friend did not do this on purpose in any way. it was not intended to distract me or to hit on me. im a lesbian hes a gay man. cmon now#he felt very bad about it afterwards. i thought it was hilarious but it was very embarrassed and apologetic#2) “why didn't he use 🫵🏼?” didn't exist yet. “why didn't he use 🆗?” dunno! we'd been using a lot of hand emojis. 👌🏼 is an ok sign#like it makes sense. it was just a silly mixup. also No i did not invent 👉🏼👌🏼 as a gesture meaning sex. do you live under a rock#3) nonspeaking episodes are a recurring thing in my life and have been since i was born. this is not a quirky one-time thing#it is a pervasive issue that is very frustrating to both myself and the people i am trying to communicate with. in which trying to speak is#extremely distressing and causes very genuine anguish. this post is not me making light of it it's just a funny thing that happened once#it's no different than if i post about a funny thing that happened in conjunction w a physical disability. it's just me talking abt my life#i don't mind character tags tho. those can be entertaining. i don't know what any of you are talking about#Except the ppl who have said this is pego/ryu or wang/xian. those people i understand and respect#if you use it as a writing prompt that's fine but send it to me. i want to see it#aaaand i think that's it. everyday im tempted to turn off rbs on it. it hasn't even been a week
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Julian tells Miles he should give his wife a present and immediately suggests the exact same gift that he and Garak famously give each other, which could mean nothing
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is-the-owl-video-cute · 7 months
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So anyway you repeatedly say we only feel corn husks and similar inedible parts to cattle but Never add a source to back it up. Having worked on farms I’m afraid for the most part the feeds I’ve seen have been parts entirely edible to humans. And like fuck man 5% of all grown soy is fed to humans or however the stat goes, do you really think the remaining 95% is inedible? really?
Anyway yeah I’m asking for a source here cause I don’t want to add this on to months old post
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Ingredients such as “grain by-products” are referring to the husks, stalks, and other “green” parts of the plant that we humans don’t actually have the digestive capabilities to eat. The breakdown of most livestock feeds looks like the above when you actually take a look at it.
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Different cattle feed, similar ingredients. Still primarily things that, and I have to stress this, you cannot eat. This one is slightly higher in quality and does indeed have actual grain products included. Some of those are edible to humans. Some are not. Generally cattle are fed cattle cubes with supplemental mineral licks and hay. Some also supplement with whole corn, but I can gladly assure you that corn is not in short supply and even if all the corn sold to animal feed was donated to the poor, you can’t actually live off of corn because there’s very little nutrition in it. Hence why in both human and animal food it’s typically seen as a filler ingredient. Keeps the mouth busy with a meal without making your stomach feel full and you end up eating more without feeling satisfied.
Soybeans are really only often used in feed for pigs because they’re a great source of protein for these animals. I would state that soy is also a terrible option to use as an emergency food for humans in need because while, yes, it is indeed a healthy bean, it’s also one of the top eight foods that humans are frequently allergic or intolerant towards. I’d also ask you for whether your 5% of all grown soy statistic is referring to the beans or the entire plant because yeah the beans are the edible part. The rest of the plant isn't especially healthy for humans to eat. I would say the beans are around 5% of a mature soy plant sure.
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annamationsart · 2 months
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to all 4 other rockabye fans: we need to start posting about them like it’s 2018
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rickybaby · 4 days
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Mat Coch, journalist for SpeedCafe, confirming that there is no basis for the current rumours
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zeb-z · 4 months
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“Red team was so selfish looking past the cursed team like that” listen man they were thinking about it often, and had evidence they were cursed too. They were convinced they were cursed too. Bad (with Pierre’s help I’ll be honest) singlehandedly destroyed any sort of civil relations and good faith between the two teams and this shot Blue in the foot when they tried to make the case about them being cursed last minute, about trying to rig it in the cursed teams favor.
There was never a cursed team in the first place, it was all a tactic to build paranoia and that feeling of betrayal and to get them to tear eachother a part. And it worked super well! At the end, neither would listen to the other about their evidence, not with an honest open ear, not with the willingness to think the other team could be cursed. It’s not a case of ‘Red just refused to listen because they wanted to win more than they cared’ they thought they were cursed too - if they were selfish, then so were Blue in the same way.
Every time Red had tried to talk first early on, it was met with extreme violence - and with Bad consistently proving he’ll play dirty to win, they didn’t trust Blue enough to listen to them in the later game. Maybe they should have listened then. Maybe Blue have listened earlier. The game worked as intended to set them against eachother.
#link is to another post I made back when they were debating about the cursed teams in purgatory and why red couldn’t trust blue and blue#couldn’t believe red. they were both stuck#and bless Tubbo he tried. he did try. but he was just as convinced he was right as Phil at the end. it was about convincing one another#more than it was about coming together and piecing together the evidence. yknow what I mean? they all cared about it but because of tension#and they also could not trust blue. which sucks because that’s hardly Tubbo’s fault but yknow#I dunno. it’s not simple like that. it’s not a case of red blowing it off being selfish not caring. they also thought they were cursed#AGAIN I’ll say it again bad burning bridges fucked a lot of them over for when diplomacy had to win because there could not be benefit of#the doubt or good faith or any sort of trust#it’s not just cut and dry red wanted to win more or blue wanted to win more. it was complicated and had way more factors#red thought they were cursed too!! they had solid evidence for this too!!#and like. again it’s a case of both parties kinda suck purgatory sucked it was always going to be like that because the game worked as#intended#idk. blue should have listened to red early on. red should have listened to blue later on. they were never going to do that on either side#idk from Tina’s pov it’s understandable why she said what she said. but knowing the others pov and what actually went down that’s not what#happened at all yknow?#they’re all gonna be feeling the effects of ‘we killed and betrayed eachother for two weeks’ for a while to come#mcyt#qsmp#qsmp purgatory#z speaks
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tianshiisdead · 3 months
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perhaps a bit of a long shot but since Ik there are a few hanfu people in the audience, does anyone know where I can find a more regional history of clothing? A lot of sources tend to go by class or time period but I can’t find many sources that focus on like ‘history of hanfu in guangdong’ or ‘clothing history in fujian’. Most of the stuff that pops up are specifically focused on ethnic minority or non-han group clothing history which is nice but not quite what i’m looking for :’(
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aureoberlinerinn · 6 months
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rant post incoming because i just have very strong opinions on this one specific topic and i need to get it out before i explode:
lately i have been thinking a lot about the common perception of intrusive thoughts …which is to say, the common perception of intrusive thoughts and, more importantly, what they think of People with intrusive thoughts. and honestly, it is just. abysmal. especially with the whole recent (ish) …trend? i suppose of “i let my intrusive thoughts win” which is an Incredibly damaging statement like you cannot believe..now i don’t have tiktok (thank god) nor do i use twitter anymore so i cannot verify the lasting impact for myself, but from what I’ve already seen and been told , the fact that people have managed, through that trend, to warp the meaning of intrusive thoughts in the the eyes of many people as “intrusive thoughts = impulses you get that you know are bad but secretly kind of want to do (ex. eating a whole chocolate cake or dying your hair a super neon colour at 3am)” has just….probably set back this whole conversation several years. and like the fact that it was a trend on social media of all places has probably just made it worse. i mean, think of it, if someone who has actual intrusive thoughts, like the “really bad” ones, goes “yeah, I get intrusive thoughts about hurting my friends and family”, the people whose understanding of intrusive thoughts that have been shaped by this trend of “letting the ‘intrusive thoughts’ win” are probably gonna come along and think “oh my god, you secretly really want to hurt your loved ones? you must be a sick and horrible person!”
which. no!! absolutely not!!! not only does that further demonize people who get intrusive thoughts (and especially the ones that are, you know, serious crimes and horrible moral violations), but further confuses people on the difference between what an intrusive thought is and what an impulsive thought is. like just think about the word “intrusive” for a second. it intrudes. its going somewhere it shouldn’t be; it’s a nuisance. in this context, a thought or image entering someone’s head that the person REALLY doesn’t want being there. because if a statement like “oh haha i let my intrusive thoughts win” became true, a lot of horrible things would happen. the point is that you DO NOT want “the intrusive thoughts to win”, because that would mean - as an example , serious harm done against other people or the person experiencing these thoughts themself.
the phrase “if I let my intrusive thoughts win I would be in jail or dead or both” is exactly it for many people. yes, it’s uncomfortable to talk about, yes, these subjects are very hard to think about but that is the Point. this is why people think they are monsters because of their intrusive thoughts. this is why people isolate themselves because they think they will somehow do harm to others because their brain is making them think terrible things. and let me repeat that. Their Brain is making them think terrible things - not the person themself.
my point being, this whole thing about people misunderstanding what exactly an intrusive thought is can be directly harmful to the actual people who experience them, and this really needs to be remedied somehow. and i have no idea how, but people at least need to Know. I’d be happy if at least one person comes to the realization that what they’d been taught from an Internet trend (or some other misconception) is wrong, and can change their beliefs for the better.
and before anyone goes after me for this , this is coming from a person who gets intrusive thoughts very frequently
#aurum.txt#now i have an entire lack of the ability to be concise so i do apologize for how long and disorganized this post is#i didnt even bring up this aspect in the main body but-#this whole stigma around intrusive thoughts does have an actual impact on the people who get them - like really (ik thats obvious but)#for example i will always carry the assumption that any and all people I’ll try to explain my intrusive thoughts to -#will automatically think that i actually think/want to do these things (which is the complete opposite of the truth!! no i don’t!!!)#and im sure this is the case for many other people who get them too#but you can see how this actively works against and is detrimental to said people when they try to get help for it#how are you supposed to confidently report something like that when the assumption is that you’re a monster for even experiencing it?#when it’s completely out of your control?#agh im sorry i just. these kinds of things make me very uh..i suppose upset?#and i dont hear it discussed nearly enough as it should (or rather as much as id like it to be)#especially with just how much that one tiktok + etc trend must have spread and misinformed a good chunk of its userbase#i am just. so fed up#btw if youve read this far thank you so so much for sticking around with my literally mad ramblings and i love you <3 /p also-#tw self harm#tw intrusive thoughts#tw ableism#<- not entirely sure if ableism is applicable but just in case#oh! and if this ever takes off (which i do doubt) please let me know if i should tag this with anything else#also. dont follow me for this post i am simply some artist with a lot of opinions and a big mouth and i dont make this kind of post often…
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flowergrenades · 6 months
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this is going to be a massively self-indulgent post but man was spending a year of my life on that fic worth it just for the mix of emotions i had watching this and hearing the echoes in my head
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littlerosetrove · 2 months
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Some folks out there (in 2024) still believing Buck and Shannon would be "besties" if Shannon had lived.
I-
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HUH???????
Sure Buck would be civil with Shannon, especially for Chris and Eddie's sake, but why would Buck, the guy with *gestures at his history of abandonment*, want to be best friends with a woman who abandoned both Chris and Eddie, but especially Chris?????
Eddie may have forgiven Shannon, but he was never able to fully trust her again. And also keep in mind that Eddie's point of view and general thoughts are skewed and biased. He thinks he abandoned Shannon and Chris first, so in his mind he thinks he's just as bad. I'm soooo curious if Eddie ever or will ever talk about this stuff with a therapist.
Part of my point is idk if Eddie has ever thought about it all more realistically and objectively. In a sense Eddie "abandoned" Shannon and Chris, HOWEVER, he sure as hell still kept in contact in war zones. He still came home to visit when he could. And while Eddie's parents probably weren't great at the time, Shannon still had the help from Eddie's family while he was away.
Shannon on the other had straight up abandoned Eddie and Chris. Zero contact for close to three years. Who the hell knows if she'd ever have reached out if Eddie didn't have to reach out first for Chris's school.
One of these things is not like the other.
*flaps hand* Idk, I think people mistake Buck's capacity for kindness and giving people a chance, this blanket idea that he could never dislike someone or something? (let's for the moment ignore the poorly handled storyline of Buck "letting go of his very reasonable issues" with his parents to start fresh or whatever.)
We'll never know what would have happened. Nevertheless, IF the show had kept Shannon alive and had her and Buck become "besties," then that would have been a poor character choice on the writers part. It would have gone against Bucks character.
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chipistrate · 4 months
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Kinda weird that we haven't seen a hint of Monty so far in Help Wanted 2 promo-
His VA already confirmed he's returning for the game, but it almost feels like they're hiding him,,,
I'm probably looking too far into it though lmao
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saltpepperbeard · 3 months
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you know what i'm so tired of? the influx of negative clickbait articles surrounding the possibility of ofmd s3. i've seen things like "taika says he isn't sure whether he wants to return for the third season" and "the show will go on without ed and stede." and the worst recent offender was "stede might be the one to breakup with blackbeard in the third season" because it misconstrued rhys' words when he was talking about ed and stede likely reuniting with the crew.
and like...intuitively i know that they are all indeed just clickbait, and are trying to take advantage of everyone's desperation for any sort of s3 news. and also, i feel like the negativity is pointed and purposeful, because it gets people talking and subsequently spreads the article around faster/gives that particular site more attention.
but man do i hate it, because it does not mix well with my anxiety.
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entomolog-t · 6 months
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The Shadow We Cast
Chapter 3 is here!! Happy I could sneak in another chapter while updating Bite Me weekly! Fun fact: All plants and animals Sal refers to are real things, he just doesn't know what they're called. Bonus points to anyone who figures them out!
Sal and Mark being two normal guys, having normal conversation during a normal meal. Everything is fine and nothing is weird (as long as Mark keeps drinking).
Word Count: 2761
Previous Chapter: Chapter 2
Next Chapter: Chapter 4
CW: Adult language, minor injury (blood, wound), substances (beer)
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I took another drink. 
A good, long drink. 
I knew I was just prolonging the inevitable, but hey, alcohol has a way of clouding judgement, and for once impairment was exactly what I needed. How many beers would it take before hawk meat sounded like a good idea? However many that number was, I clearly still had a long way to go.
I was buzzed for sure- I felt the flush in my cheeks and a slight tingle in my lips. Yet the wild new reality in front of me kept my mind oddly clear and feeling painfully sober. With a sigh, I began to remove the meat from the barbecue. Despite Sal being situated out of sight on the patio set behind me, I could practically feel him perk up with interest. The thought of the tiny man sent my mind whirling once again. I could barely wrap my head around the absurdity of the past 24 hours, let alone what I was supposed to do from here… Coming face to face with a man no bigger than my hand who apparently lives somewhere on my property, has a pet spider, and is capable of killing a hawk? The mental summary of events was wild enough to have me glancing over my shoulder every few minutes to make sure Sal was really still there… and yet, amidst all the madness, there was a strange sense of normalcy. We were just two dudes having a barbecue and sipping beers as if we were just friendly neighbours- as long as I pretended it was chicken.
"Done?" Sal's voice was filled with an almost childlike excitement as I killed the propane. Enough stalling, I thought, just get it over with. I eyed the meat with disdain as I began to stack it on a plate. 
"All set." I confirmed, desperately trying to hide the dread in my voice.
Despite my overall anticipatory disgust, a smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I turned to see Sal’s tiny figure with his back pressed up against a beer can. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought of leaning against the cool metal in this overbearing heat.
As I sat down, Sal sprung up, all too eager to get his hands on his prized catch. His excitement seemed to quell my inhibitions far more than the alcohol had managed. Before any better judgement could manifest, I took a bite.
And it was… frankly, not bad. 
The meat had a unique flavour, strong and slightly gamey, a bizzare combination of chicken and beef. Paired with the sweetness and distinct spice of the sauce it was actually pretty-
A slurry of the most cringe inducing noises rose up from just beneath me -the sound like a grotesque amalgamation of a wild dog and a toddler chewing on something wet. How someone so small could make such a repulsive commotion while eating was beyond me. I dreaded looking down, but like driving past a car crash, there was a morbid curiosity that tugged at my gaze like a magnet. 
Shirtless and sauce-covered, Sal had dragged an outrageously large chunk of meat onto his lap and was tearing into as if he was killing the poor creature a second time- ripping out handfuls of meat and devouring them, scarfing it down as if he hadn’t eaten in days. 
I paused, a question nagging at the edges of my brain.
Did he eat regularly?
It's not like he could casually stroll to a grocery store when he was hungry. A wave of guilt hit me- pressuring me to keep my judgments on his borderline feral table etiquette to myself.  
As if he could sense my gaze fixed on him, Sal looked up towards me, a ridiculously wide grin plastered across his face. Without even bothering to swallow, he shoots, me a compliment, 
“This is good.”
I tear off a chunk of a paper towel and push it towards him. 
“Thanks man, I’m glad you like it.” I say, feeling as though his enthusiasm is starting to rub off, “Thanks for bringing the hawk.” Sal tilts his head, and I gesture towards the food. He smiles and nods, trying to commit the foreign word to memory. 
As he went back to his meal, I couldn’t help but stare. The guy was unbelievably small. His size in and of itself was mind-boggling, but what was even more absurd was someone his stature being able to take down a hawk- I mean, sure he was built to shit, but what good would some muscle do against what had essentially been some kind of dragon to him?
How the Hell had he managed to kill a hawk?
Trying my best not to be too obvious, I leaned forward, eyeing him more closely. He had a very distinct look to him. His dirty blond hair was a strange middle ground between a mohawk and a mullet, the sides cut short to reveal pointed ears that looked like they belonged in some fantasy game and not on a real being. He had a strong jaw, contrasted by a friendly smile. But what stood out most were the scars. 
Every inch of his being, while admittedly was not a lot, bore a tapestry of scars in various shapes and sizes. Gashes ran across his chest, and what appeared to be some sort of bite mark hung around his shoulder. His limbs were a patchwork of scrapes and cuts, almost giving him the appearance of stripped skin if it wasn’t for their haphazard arrangement. 
Under closer scrutiny a number of the jagged scrapes were far too fresh to be considered scars at all, though clearly in time they'd join in the tapestry. I nearly scoffed at the sight, Minor scrapes and bruises from battling it out with a bird of prey? What was this guy? Some sort of gnome warrior? Some tax funded super weapon? A super powered action figure brought to life by a child’s wish- I might have had too much to drink. 
“How did you manage to, you know,”I gestured vaguely at the meat, “kill it?”
Mouth absolutely stuffed to its fullest, he looked up at me and grinned, a smug pride lighting up his face. Thankfully, he swallowed before speaking. 
“Jumped at it.” He said it matter of factly, and resumed eating as if it should have been considered an adequate answer. When he looked up and was met with whatever baffled face I must have been pulling he chuckled. Wiping his hands off on the piece of napkin, he stood. In one motion, he produced a blade so quickly it was almost as if he conjured it from thin air, having drawn from some concealed barely perceptible pocket on his pants. 
“Hoks,” The word sounds foreign in his mouth, “aim for where you're at, sometimes they aim where you’ll go. Real precise. Can’t go backwards though. You close that distance at the right time and they just can’t account for it. Just gotta get past those claws'' As he spoke he tossed around the blade with a concerning amount of nonchalance. Even more concerning, the way he spoke was as if he expected me to go out hunting hawk with this newfound information. Jump at it? I mean, sure, the logic was there, however the execution was beyond wild. It felt like telling someone the way to avoid getting hit by a train was to just jump out of the way. Sure, it wasn’t wrong, but the whole concept really embodied the notion of “easier said than done.”
“And then what?” I ask, feeling like he was glossing over quite a few steps with his method of just jump at it, “You just …?” I gestured for him to continue, and if the grin that plastered his face was any indicator he was more than willing to go on. 
“It’s quite the revolutionary concept...” He continues, twirling his blade casually, as if fiddling with a pencil, “Pretty complex stuff.” His voice lowers, and I find myself being pulled in- both figuratively enthralled and literally drawing myself nearer to hear him speak. He locks eyes with me, his face taking on a more hardened look. 
He tosses his blade up- catching it by its hilt and pointing directly at me.
“You stab it.”
There's a moment of silence before he erupts into laughter. 
Hearty guffaws fill the air as he doubles over, clearly pleased with his own joke and the dumbfounded expression that was left smeared on my face. 
I roll my eyes, and try to cover my mouth in an attempt to hide the reluctant smirk that creeps across my lips, but the gesture does nothing to stop the chuckle that wells up behind my hand. I shake my head,
“And you're okay..? Like, it um- didn’t get you anywhere or something?”
With a smirk, Sal shrugs, 
“For the most part.”
Before I can ask him to elaborate he pulls down the band of his pants just enough to show a bloodied cloth hastily taped to the side of his hip extending towards his glute. Peeling back the improvised bandage, Sal reveals a nasty gash which looked like it would be a few inches long had he been of human size. 
“A little slice from the beak,” He explained, “Lucky it just grazed me.”
I can feel my brow furrow as I lean in closer. It wasn’t a horrifying injury, but by no means would a gash like that be considered mild, or as he said “just grazed.” I winced. 
“Oh, fuck- dude that looks, um, not great. Do you need anything..?”
He snorted. 
“What? You plan on doing the stitches yourself, big man?” he laughs, waving me away as he goes to reapply the bandage. 
He pauses. 
“On second thought- You wanna grab me some… um…” He stops, looking a bit confused, “Grocery weed..?” 
Whatever I had been expecting him to ask, nothing had prepared me for “grocery weed.” 
What the fuck is grocery weed? 
“You… you want weed?” 
No. Nope. Recant all previous thoughts of sanity- A tiny man and/or potential gnome warrior killing a hawk and then trying to bum a doobie was just not real. Nope. I had really lost it. 
The questionably real little man points to the yard, 
“Big leaves, round edges? Has those little sprouting bits good for making bread?”
I stared at him dumbly. 
“Bread?” I repeated. Sal pursed his lips. He strolled over to my hand and patted the back of it, looking up at me expectantly. 
“I’ll show you.” I turned my hand palm up and he clambered in, directing me down the porch and towards the driveway. All the while my mind fumbled with the very real sensation of his shifting weight in my palm. 
“There!” He hopped up, leaning over the edge of my hand andI curled my fingers inwards reflexively. He gestured towards a weed jutting up from the gravel. I titled my head, a bit surprised. I knew the plant, in the sense that I had definitely seen it around, though I highly doubted it was called grocery weed. It vaguely resembles a cluster of spinach leaves, with a few almost cattail-like stalks extending upwards from the centre. I thought it was a little strange that despite having seen this weed fairly often, I had no clue what it was actually called. 
Trying to be mindful of my not so safety conscious passenger, I knelt down slowly, careful not to jostle him. He directs me, telling me he just needs a few leaves and he’ll be fine. I feel my brow knit in confusion but I acquiesce nonetheless before bringing him and the “not-weed-weed” back to the porch.  
Sal hops off onto the table, leaves in hand and I reach for another drink. Taking a sip, I watch as  he fiddles with the bandages, re-exposing the gash. To my surprise, he takes a bite of the leaf. I tilt my head.
“So what are you do-” He spits a chewed green mass into his palm, “-ing…”
My question trails off. I watch in horror as he takes the mush and slaps it overtop of the open wound.
“DUDE!” I turn my head away to hide a gag. 
What the fuck did I just witness?
He raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix between confusion and judgement as he reapplies the bandage overtop of the borderline spit up.
“What?” 
I scoff, for a moment blanking on what I should say. Sanitary concerns? Oral bacteria? Sepsis? A slew of health concerns fill my mind, but just two words make it passed my lips, 
“That's nasty.”
He waves me off. Dismissing my disgust with a wave of his hand. 
“That,” he says, nodding to the bandage, “works like a charm.”
While I highly doubted that a chewed up weed smeared onto an open wound was more effective than an antiseptic, I couldn’t deny he very clearly had far more experience in dealing with open wounds than myself- the patchwork decorating his skin acted as a pretty solid letter of reference for his abilities. 
“Are you actually going to need stitches?” I ask, wondering if he’d at least let me offer him some disinfectant. 
Sal shrugged.
“Maybe? Depends how well the grocery weed works. Worst case it’s not like stitches are that hard.” 
What was he? Some sort of field medic? “Not that hard” to administer self suturing?? Not to mention what did he even use at his size??
“...how?” Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the strangeness of it all, but the question just seemed to fall out before I’d even realised I’d spoken. 
Though the question had been vague at best, Sal seemed to understand my confusion. 
“Oh, I used Betty’s silk. It’s pretty thin, but the stuff is wicked strong.” He continues talking but my mind seems to freeze. Betty? Who’s Betty… and why did she have silk- Oh. 
I shudder at the memory of the spider just… crawling all over him. Spider silk?? He uses SPIDER SILK?? How do you even get- I put a stop to that line of thought as quickly as it had started.
Nope. No. Don’t think about it. Just drink. 
As I try to drown my own thoughts by taking another drink I hear Sal continuing on, saying something about sharpening a wasp’s “egg stinger” to use as a needle and very quickly decide it’s high time for a change in topics. 
With all the charismatic finesse of a 5 year old, I point to a particularly gruesome looking scar that ran straight up his back. 
“Oh man, that looks brutal. How’d that happen?”
He stops mid sentence, looking over his shoulder as he tries to follow where I was pointing. His brows furrow, before he shrugs.
“Not too sure. I’ve had that one since I was real young. I think… I fell off something and got caught by a thorn? Maybe?” He chews his lip, reconsidering. “Or it might have been a long mouse?” Did he mean some kind of weasel? I pale at the thought of an even smaller version of him facing off against one of those viscous little things. He waves his hand, dismissing the topic, “In any case, it's too long ago for me to remember.”
I tilt my head. Surely he couldn’t have been that young not to remember getting attacked by a, relatively speaking, monstrous creature. I mean, he didn’t look like he could be much older than his mid twenties at most- I mean… maybe tiny gnome warrior field medics might age differently? What if he’s like… 50? 100?? As soon as the thought is in my head the words seem to just slip out, the alcohol doing its magic in lubricating the conversation. 
“So like… how old are you?”
He shrugs as he makes his way back toward the food. 
“Dunno.” 
“You don’t know how old you are?” I say, baffled at the revelation. He sits down and resumes eating. 
“I mean, the days all blend together. Time passes whether I count it or not. What’s the point in counting if I’m not counting towards something?”
I’m not sure if it's the alcohol or if he had some sage gnomic wisdom to bestow but his words seem to strike a chord within me. I nod, but say nothing. Instead I finish the rest of my beer, mulling over his words. 
What was I counting for?
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chongoblog · 2 years
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my gender identity is “cis if only because i cant be assed to identify otherwise tbh”
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