#let alone the experience

[kyofsonder]

Find the Word

I was tagged by both @saltysupercomputer and @crossroadcrow to find select sets of words in my WIPs and tag more people with my own words to keep the game going.

My Words: liquid, weather, line, plant, pin, sorrow, breeze, fall, justice, hug

I’ll tag @on-noon, @thatwitchrevan (I tried to find your writblr, but it didn’t come up so I’ll tag your main), @mr-writes, @hannahactuallywrites, @the-inkwell-variable, @writingpotato07, and as always anyone who wants to join in can use the folowing words and say I tagged them!

Your Words: pressure, patient/patience, expectation, seldom, familiar

The excerpts are under the cut as usual, so nobody has to scroll endlessly -- especially since I went overboard on these excerpts.

I found liquid in my novel WIP “To Be Honest”, in a scene that mentions blood and (magic-related) self injury:

Without sparing a second more to think, he brings the knife down on his arm at whatever angle fate decides. If he's lucky, it won't catch any major arteries and he'll be able to bandage himself up later. If he's not... Micah ignores the thought and focuses on the feeling of blood in his own veins. The flow of it through his muscles. The pressure of it against his every atom, heavy with a substance that feels like contradiction itself melted into liquid form. Warmth, cold, weight, lightness, both the smoothness of a river and the sharpness of broken glass, painful and absolutely painless. Focusing on the sensation of magic always makes him nauseous, and he has to grit his teeth against the feeling. A little more. Imagine its extremes as a scale. Push the scale in the desired direction. The foundation of unstructured spellcasting, just like his mother had taught both him and David in childhood. Just like he and David had taught Asher, not long after.

I found weather in my dream journal, full of subconscious stories I plan to eventually rewrite into intentionally original works, specifically in a dream about a pyschic shapeshifter named Sophia and her variously psychic friends:

Only a few people on the baseball team really take notice of the newcomer, each for different reasons. He's a bald, fairly round person who looks like he should be doing judo or sumo professionally. He even has a scowling expression most of the time, whether he means to or not. He's a kind person, but he's not warm or cuddly by any means -- still, I'll call him Teddy. He prefers Ted. What Sophia, Mindy, and (somehow) Sam notice about Ted, however, is the fact that he has psychic powers. After a day or two, he even reaches out to Sophia telepathically. I don't remember what it is they talk about, but it feels disconnected from the sense of tension that's rising for the psychics in this school. The weather itself changes. Now, the afternoons they spend at this school are heavy with rain clouds or even wet with actual rain itself. The sun doesn't make an appearance anymore.

Life goes on like this for awhile. Sophia, Mindy, Sam, and Teddy talk about psychic things between club activities. Sophia and Sam act like an innocent high school couple. Things are fine. Ominous, but fine.

I found line in several of my WIPs, including my novel WIP “Apricots”:

He's known for years that Noah has a hard time explaining things, that words are difficult for him in more or less the opposite way that they're difficult for Kade, but right now he doesn't have the patience to wait for this scattered man to put his thoughts together. Ian will force them into something coherent if he has to, something he can actually understand. "You're dropping names I've never heard like I have any idea who they are, you're getting overexcited like you always do, and you just casually mentioned someone is actively trying to kill you? You can't just... assume I still get what you're talking about when you suddenly veer of like that! I'm not a mind reader! I'm not --" he stops himself, knowing what he'd been about to say but not wanting to say it even in his own head. It feels like a line he can't cross. Comparing himself to someone who isn't here to defend herself. Using Noah's own grief as a weapon against him. This isn't supposed to be an argument. Just a conversation.

I found plant in my short story WIP “Kiyo”:

I name the vines anyway, like the healthy living articles say you should to get the most out of raising a plant. To make that illusion of having a friend around feel more real. I call her Kiyo. It doesn't mean anything as far as I know. It's just a couple of syllables I can say out loud so it feels less like I'm talking to myself. A simple name for a simple plant. I only choose it because I like how it feels to say, so it's not like I'm putting any grand hopes into it either. No extra expectations. It's there to give her some personality. That's all. Though I have to admit, somehow it feels like she has personality even before I start using a name for her. She's alive, and there are times when I look at her and I can feel a sense of warmth that reminds me I'm the same.

I couldn’t find pin, so here’s a fun fact related to the earlier “To Be Honest” excerpt with a lot of blood mentions:

I’ve said it in tags before, but the way Micah uses magic in that excerpt is a last resort for bloodline/circle witches like him. While magic is stored in his blood, using it without some sort of focusing tool is extremely unpredictable and imprecise. It’s the equivalent of trying to perform surgery with a machete. It’s made to cut into things, but it’s not made for fine incisions or careful movements. It’s also extremely dangerous, since a witch that just tears the magic out of their own body is using more blood than they strictly need and risks bleeding out.

Every bloodline avoids this inefficiency and danger in a different way, and makes sure to teach each new generation their methods – even if they’re kept secret from everyone outside their circle of influence. Kilner witches both tend to process their blood into ink and write their spells out as words on paper – which they then burn so nobody can copy their work. Page and Barker witches tend to engrave their spells into wood or metal and then stain or etch the engravings with their blood. Both Jasper and Porter witches tend to make potions, mixing their blood with other ingredients that have significance to their respective bloodlines.Renner witches like Micah tend to turn their blood into paint and craft decks of spellcasting cards. Micah himself is trying to learn the Shepherd way of sewing and embroidering spells into cloth, using needles and yarn doused in witch blood to make enchanted clothes and accessories. There are as many ways to use bloodline magic as there are bloodline witch families/groups/factions that use said methods, but only a handful of them are shared with the general public or used to make enchanted items that even non-magical people can operate. The only thing commonly taught to everyone equally, no matter which circle they belong to, is the danger of doing what Micah does in that scene.

I found sorrow in a rough WIP of a song I’ve been trying to write for the world of Ryedenne where (most of) my novel WIP “A Place to Return” takes place – a folk song warning newly recruited mercenaries and would-be heroes not to fight victims of a certain rage-inducing curse:

Hear the Crows, bound in shackles, cry out

In their rage, Ryedenne's pain, Summer's sorrow.

Some try in cover of darkness to drive them out,

Yet such souls never live 'til the morrow.

If Saints are troubled by the troubles of Crows --

These cursed creatures they barely contain --

Then for mortals who'd call themselves heroes,

What hope of victory could ever remain?

The might of the Crow is the might of the sun

That burns with the rage of the Gods.

A fight with a curse is a fight seldom won

by these challengers facing slim odds.

Hear the Crows, bound in shackles, cry out

In their rage, Ryedenne's pain, Summer's sorrow.

There's Crows who from darkness try to crawl out,

Yet such souls never see light on the morrow.

I found breeze in my shelved novel WIP “Rebirth”, that I apparently last tried to revive in 2018:

I’ve never seen so many stars in my life. It’s dizzying, trying to keep track of where their light ends and the darkness of the night sky actually begins. The trees bend and sway slightly in the soft breeze. Have I seen any of these stars before? Is that even possible? I let myself slip away just a bit, searching for familiar constellations or any markers that might spark my memory somehow. Connect me back to the past.

“Seriously? You’re gonna lecture me over this, too? You’re not our goddamn leader, Mal!” Justin’s voice stabs through the night like a needle through fabric. I sigh. The air is so clear here. The air smells of moss and the campfire below.

“I never said I wanted to lead. I wanted you to listen to common sense. You can talk about right and wrong all you want, but the consequences won’t go away. We’ve still got a target on our heads, because none of you city kids could stop and fucking think before you acted!” the usual calm in Mal’s tone splinters into a hiss at the end, harsh and strained between her teeth. I close my eyes and breathe. The stars spin slowly behind my eyelids, blinking like they’re trying to tell me something. None of them look familiar at all.

I found fall in my Given oneshot fic “Present Tense”:

He taps the body of the guitar again, humming absently as he does. He's not even sure if he's matching the music in his ears. It seems removed from that. From anyone else's songs. From any of his own songs he's already sung. The sound melts into the warm afternoon sunlight, and he gently lets himself fall over onto the cool surface of the stairwell. It's a good spot for a nap. Maybe if he sleeps, he won't think so loud. So much. About things he can't understand or figure out on his own. The last thing he sees as he drifts off to sleep is the set of double doors between the stairwell and the gym. Uenoyama-kun will probably be coming through those doors soon. Sleepily, he wonders if this will count as seeing something from a new angle, or if it cancels out because he's napped here before.

I found justice in my Danny Phantom oneshot fic “Lingering Scars”:

Maybe he's not all that violent in his soul, as a person, if a kid this kind was cloned from him. She's the hero side of him, at least when it comes to personal values. Her priorities are crystal clear. Protect others, stay safe, and don't do harm. The things he likes to think he values, too. The things it takes to be a hero of justice. She doesn't see herself as someone capable of killing, and he's relieved to hear her put that into words. She doesn't see him as someone who could kill, either. It would be natural to assume that he's seen ghosts die this way firsthand, that he's possibly even been the person to make it happen himself. His little sister doesn't even consider that his knowledge or experience comes from destroying the cores of his enemies. Not even for a second. She believes in him, and it hurts in a way that digs ice into the sides of his neck.

I found hug in “Present Tense” again:

"The only way I could stop being hollow is if I stopped being myself. If I was left in silence. I told you. I'm a keeper of memories. I'm the place where temporary things are given a chance at permanence, but I can't keep things that aren't given to me. I can't hold on to things if they're never put into my hands in the first place. I can take as many things as you give me, Mafuyu. Don't think that I won't try. I can hold every moment you ever want to be able to revisit, or hide from, or see from a different angle. I want you to trust me," they pull Mafuyu into a hug this time, gripping him as if reuniting with a long lost friend, and he can't help but to idly wonder if the time in their hands is falling out now -- dripping down his back, maybe, blue and silver and red and white in turns.

This got a little long, even by my usual standards, but I found almost all of the words I was given this time. As much as I enjoy writing fun facts, it’s satisfying when I actually find the words like the game intends. I’m looking forward to the next time I’m tagged again!

#writing #find the word #sonder stories #sonder snippets #bonus fact #the reason none of the stars are familiar #in the breeze excerpt #is because the characters have traveled to the future #they've been frozen for so many centuries #that by the time they were thawed #the stars had changed entirely #it's a recurring thing in the Rebirth story #or it was #before I shelved the story #since it tackled too many things #that I probably don't have the right to tackle #let alone the experience #also #that dream #it involved Sophia turning into a lobster #at which point Sam took her home #in a water bucket #reassuring her that even if she stayed stuck #he would still love her #I loved that scene

[bingobongobonko]

RAMBLING ALSO, LANCER YESTERDAY BUT. hassannn hes very normal to say the least..............! roleplay was really fun too, really established who each character was. or at least, how people see them. and then delving into how they react on the battlefield and what they dooooo.. shit is crazy :3c my brain got too fumbled with strategy stuff to recall specifically, but i do recall hassan feeling both overwhelmed and happy with a mix of terror. overwhelmed by how much had happened in the last hour or so, happy cuz hes getting praise, and terror because. well. ummmmmm. hes never actually been in a combat situation, and does not hit with the intent to kill. he never goes out of his way to hurt a pilot, but errrm. his teammate may or may not have hit a dude out of his mech with a rocket launcher and got that mans guts all over hassan's mech and hassan cried. so his teammates are very homicidal, and hes just wanting to do a job with the least casualties as possible. i think he's very keen on impressing his mates though, and tries as much as he can to follow their lead, cuz he doesnt trust his own abilities in anything. hes just very unsure abt everything...

now, game, in terms of actual battle:

the wipers

#feel like hassan will definitely get more confident down the line with battling ig the issue is where exactly his allegiance is tied to. #cuz the people hes been hired on by.... he doesnt actually know WHY they want him here. why hire someone who doesnt have the credentials #let alone the experience #thats the question. thats what i dont understand #why hassan

[redysetdare]

enough stories about how someone learns to truely be happy through love. i want a story where someone is desperately seeking out love thinking it's the only way to be happy only for them to learn by the end that happiness is what they make of it and they don't need love at all to make it.

#aro #aromantic #ace #asexual #aroace #loveless aro #loveless #non-partnering #nonpartnering #non partnering #nonamorous #aplatonic #enough of amatonormative tropes in media!!! enough 'you're miserable without love' stories!!! #less “you're too focused on ambitions to make you happy that you dont let yourself fall in love” #more “you're too focused on finding love to make you happy that you wont let yourself live” #more “there is so much more to life than love and so much more that can bring your happiness if you just let yourself experience it.” #maybe I should write this story #and when i say love i mean all love. not just romantic love. #which is why i tagged aplatonic too #while i mostly see this trope in terms of romantic love i think there's something to be said about #telling stories where people are perfectly content alone too #it doesn't have to be sad or pathetic to not have friends by choice. they dont have to be a miserable person to not have friends #i think we need more variety in stories where it shows people just content in their lack of love or relationships in all shapes #not everyone wants a family not everyone wants friends not everyone wants a partner not everyone wants love #some of us are content without. that should be explored without the need to fix it.

[1960z]

“haha odo is so beige and bland and boring despite being a literal shapeshifter” like ok yes I laugh at those jokes too and find them funny I literally have no issue with them but sometimes I also wanna talk about how that’s kind of the whole point of his character.

like odo’s abilities and way of being is so unlike any other known species in the alpha quadrant that it’s shown to be disturbing and off-putting to a lot of people — or at the very least that’s what he was led to believe. like we see this in the alternate where mora tries to convince him he’ll either be locked up in a prison or put in a zoo to gawk at if he’s perceived to have committed any sort of crime or transgression.

so despite being able to literally become anything he can think of, he chooses his default presentation to be as standard, bland and uninteresting as he possibly can. male, always in a beige uniform, very standard hair cut.

odo is so plain because he was made to be afraid of being literally anything else

#also obligatory “trans odo” ramble but yeah as a trans person this all really hits me #I didn’t really fully accept I was trans let alone come out until after high school and I feel like while everyone around me was #experimenting w style and fashion or whatever I just put on the most bland shit possible bc the thought of my appearance actually being able #to reflect the way I as a person feel always felt so foreign to me #anyways I love odo sm #odo #ds9 #deep space nine #star trek #shut up abe

[sergle]

what I was talking abt earlier. we have fully looped back around and away from feminism, societally, whereas before it was very Feminism 101 to acknowledge that many parts of existing as a woman in a misogynistic society are painful and upsetting. not that being a woman is Inherently Negative in a bubble. but that living on this earth, in the conditions we're living in, is hostile to women. and that gender is a performance. that many of the Staples Of Femininity as accepted by society are things that you have to create and perform and mold artificially and aren't inherent, that COMPLAINING about day to day difficulties of existing as a woman is something that you're allowed to do. acknowledging these basic, again, feminism 101 things, that something tied to womanhood is more time consuming or more expensive or more dangerous Because Of The Problems. does not CREATE the problems. that when women complain about having to perform femininity, they are not, in fact, oppressing themselves. the call does not come from inside the fucking house. saying that you HAVE suffered does not fucking equate that you believe you SHOULD have suffered.

like I could talk about this for hours. how braindead and one-dimensional the Takes are getting. "being a woman is looking in the mirror and going fuck yeah i'm a woman" damn. I guess any negative experiences you have by living in a misogynistic world... are your fault if you are anything but positive? "you don't actually want liberation" we've fully gone back to telling feminists "you WANT to be oppressed" when anything negative about our society is pointed out. it's not real until I say it out loud, I guess, and then I'm actually the one who caused it. if anybody expresses any unhappiness with how they're treated or the status quo or the language and culture surrounding womanhood and femininity. they've created it, right that second. they invented it just now. it wasn't a problem before somebody complained, right? also trans women aren't braindead zombies who just follow the flow of whatever cis women around them say. I am pretty fucking sure they are very much aware of pain, and are MORE than aware of the swirling torrent of misogyny and standards of femininity than anybody else. actually. and I am pretty sure someone complaining on tumblr that being a woman means always putting on a performance is going to make someone change their mind about transitioning. also "performing femininity" as a necessity to being treated well as a woman is not fucking NEWS to your Local Trans Woman. I AM PRETTY SURE SHE GETS THE CONCEPT. using trans women as a scapegoat for this braindead perspective on gender politics is spineless, meritless, and pathetic.

#how I feel about my gender is not the same as how I feel about the living conditions of my gender #when I saw that post I screenshotted here I literally sat w my mouth open for a minute #sent it to my friends and was like am I fucking crazy. is this what we're doing now #Forced Positivity and that there is no war in ba sing se and actually #you're ruining children's lives if you complain about misogyny on twitter #I don't HAVE to tell little girls about the downsides because they are already being mistreated #before they have even heard the word 'misogyny' let alone know what it means #you do not have to be fucking happy all the time about the cards you're dealt. #you don't live in a bubble where it's just you and your mirror and your pretty dress and nothing bad has ever happened to you #unfortunately bitch. we will have negative experiences that are in fact. part of the package of being a woman #and IGNORING them doesn't make them not exist. actually they will continue to remain status quo unless acknowledged #sergle.txt #I see so much rhetoric that is JUST old-fashioned gender ideals being presented with liberal language on tiktok #that is just telling women that womanhood is just being a girllll and loving pretty things and being kind and gentleeeee and nurturing #and not working and just like being wholesome and being happy and being a light in ppl's lives and just LOVING LOVING LOVING being a woman #so if for even one second. you don't love it. you are actually failing at being a woman #if you complain about the standards for shaving or putting on makeup. which used to be Baby's First Feminism online #that's actually just you creating problems. you're not supposed to acknowledge it. you're supposed to shut up and smile into the mirror.

[starry-bi-sky]

okay so i was thinking of a joke earlier about how in DPDC Amity Park's slogan "a great place to live" is not only city propaganda but also the city lording it over the rest of America for being normal. But then I remembered that, despite how many DCU Cities with heroes in it there are, the amount of cities in America without heroes still far outnumber the amount of cities in America WITH heroes.

So I did a little digging so the joke would still land. Something most heroes have in common is that they operate in major cities. What makes a major city? I found that the general consensus is that the population is roughly over or around a million. THEN I looked up the populations of cities in the DCU that I thought of off the top of my head. So Gotham, Metropolis, Starling City, Central City, Jump City. All of them ranked up to millions in population (most of them were in the tens of millions).

Amity Park's wikipedia describes it as being similar to specifically Philadelphia, Chicago, and San Francisco.

Philadelphia's Population: 1.576 million as of 2021 Chicago's Population: 2.697 million as of 2021 San Francisco: 815,201 as of 2021

Whiiich means that Amity Park if we take that from canon, is probably a major city. There are approximately 19,000 cities in America with probably less than a hundred that are major cities. Adding the DCU major cities wouldn't skew the data too much.

Which MEANS that I can make the joke that Amity Park's "great place to live" is not only just typical city propaganda, but also its Amity Park lording it over the other major cities for being one of the only major cities that doesn't have problems bad enough to warrant a superhero or a vigilante. Cue stage left the Fentons and Phantom :)

Amity Parkers were probably SO proud that they didn't need a superhero. They didn't have to worry about things like 'world ending threats' and 'super-powered individuals' and 'staggering property damage'. And then enter Fentons.

It also could be used as an excuse for why nobody took notice to Amity Park getting ghosts if folks like me aren't huge fans of the notion of a media blackout via Tucker, Technus, or the US Government. Or if you want to keep Amity Park as its urban city self. Amity Park's news on ghosts gets drowned out in a week because there's news on more popular, well-known cities going on every other day. The shit going on in Amity Park is every other major city's regular Tuesday and it gets filtered as such.

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dpdc #plus amity suddenly going 'we have ghosts' could be seen as a case of city-wide FOMO finally hitting so nobody believes them #and thats if the belief of ghosts not being real is as strong as it is in dp canon #the media blackout could also be /city-induced/ too #where amity parkers are so proud of being 'normal' and 'not having superheros' that many of them try and deny the existence of Phantom #and the mayor and news sources themselves just. stubbornly refuse to let news of ghosts get out to the other cities #do you know how much shit they'll get?? they'll be a laughingstock! #gothamites would never leave them alone. neither would central city or the metropolitans or starling city or-- #the other big cities will make fun of them :( #my new favorite hc that stemmed from this is that every major city in the dcu is rivaling with each other #there's a lot you can experiment with this idea imo lmao #this whole post sums up my writing and thinking process pr well tbh #this stemmed because im making a childhood friends au short story doc and wanted to avoid the typical tropes about how AP went undetected #from the rest of the US. bc. im not a fan of the media blackout idea via tucker/technus/gov and i wanted to keep AP an urban city #so i had to come up with something else #hence me looking into DCU cities and how many there are and realizing that there is a decent amount of other cities other than the main #popular ones and being DELIGHTED because then i could use that as an excuse for why amity went overlooked. bc there are many cities with #heroes in it. so its not surprising if another city gets a hero TOO. plus the news also focusing on more popular heroes and cities so again #the news of amity getting a hero gets drowned out by whatever new thing the JL or someone from the JL did that week

[wizardlyghost]

thing about deltora quest that only occurred to me in hindsight is not only just how much jasmine carries the entire party on this quest but also how genre-defyingly brutal she is lol. like, this is a kid's series that hinges on riddles and puzzles far more heavily than combat - even when deaths occur, they're often the result of cleverness in some way rather than straight up combat ability. that said, let's look at the villain kill count at the end of book five of eight of the first series:

- lief: 1 - even there it's with a well-thrown bottle of cursed water rather than his sword.

- barda: 0 - i'm not counting that one unnamed sand beast, that's an animal not a villain.

- filli: 0 - he is a squirrel, this is unsurprising.

- kree: 1 - killed an invincible sorceress all by himself, good bird best friend.

- jasmine: 5 - dropped a tree branch on a mf, drowned two cannibals in quicksand, cut a giant snake's throat, shoved a dude down a pipe full of toxic mold (after having to be told not to cut his throat while he slept jfc).

idk it just suddenly struck me as really funny how this one character who isn't the protagonist is almost from a different, far more brutal story, and uses that fact to consistently be the mvp and save everyone else's asses. i need to read this series again it's been too long.

#lief: i am the hero. it's me. also i have never used a sword before like yesterday but i Won't Let That Stop Me! #barda: i am a big strong man. everything we actually fight is bigger than me tho so mostly i contribute worldly wisdom and life experience. #jasmine: I Raised Myself In The Woods Alone I Can Talk To Trees I Will Cut A Bitch Without A Moment's Hesitation I Carry Two Live Animals #Because They're My Friends And Ten Thousand Dollars Because They're Shiny I Met These Two While I Was Rolling Them For Loose Valuables #one of the characters of all time ms rodda i owe you my childhood #deltora quest

[caelos-legacy]

moon of a few words as always

aka "insurance". aftermath to Privacy (P1 - P2)

[ Comic index ]

#fnaf #fnaf au #fnaf sb #fnaf sb au #daycare au #fnaf daycare au #moondrop #moon fnaf #daycare attentand #fnaf daycare attendant #moondrop x reader #moondrop x y/n #caelos au #comic #this kinda makes me realize there's now a Massive temporal gap between this and the camera dealio. both need time to recover from this and #build up the trust to that point. i hope i can do a decent job of filling it up. thank you for following the blog so far <3 #please be gentle with me though - i have Barely any experience with writing; let alone writing conflict

[shady-tavern]

The Tailors on Baker Street

Warning for implied/referenced domestic abuse and murder. Please take care of yourselves, this is possibly a bit darker than my usual fare.

***

There was a tailoring shop at the end of Baker Street, a small but rather popular store, run by a married couple. They were ever polite and friendly, sharing gossip with mischievous winks and listening to the trouble of their customers. 

Their wares were of good quality and it was said they could fix every dress and coat, no matter the rip. Whatever one needed, they had it and they were said to finish orders swiftly and as desired. Their fine stitches and detailed embroidery were the envy of many.

There was another rumor about them, shared in soft whispers and away from prying ears. When you had fled to your friend, terrified, helpless and bruised, admitting you couldn't take it any longer, she had told you there was a solution to your problems.

Go to the tailors at the end of Baker Street and present them with a daisy, your friend had told you, briefly dipping into her yard to pluck one, shoving the small flower into your shaking hands. Give it to them, they'll know what to do.

And here you were, in front of a modest, well taken care of storefront. A carriage bustled past behind you and you fiddled with the daisy, doing your best not to wear it down with your gut-wrenching anxiety.

It took more courage than should be necessary to set foot into the store, your heart pounding hard enough you felt it beat in your throat. There were some customers, looking over ribbons and fabric, before examining shirts, breaches and skirts, along with coats and dresses on hangers. They barely paid you any mind, too focused on their tasks.

You nearly squished the poor flower in your grip as you lingered by the door, fighting the urge to leave before someone spotted you.

"Welcome and good day, how may I help you?" a woman's pleasant voice made you flinch in surprise and you turned to the lady who had approached you. She was beautiful and well dressed, if simply, for work. Her dark hair was neatly pinned up and pretty earrings reflected the light. 

She wore a brooch, made of three daisies and her eyes held a strange, golden shimmer. You quickly chalked that up to the light falling in through the window. Some people simply had unique eyes, after all, but these held you captive for just a moment despite your body nearly shivering with stress.

"Um." You gestured with your hands, mouth dry and heart pounding. Her gaze fell to the slightly worn looking daisy.

"Oh, how silly of me," she said, stepping back and gesturing for you to walk ahead of her. "You're here to pick up a custom order, aren't you? Forgive me for forgetting, it has been such a busy day."

You wobbled a small, unsure nod and scurried ahead, head kept down. The woman led you to the back of the store, where real custom orders were waiting on a rack, all finished and well made. The space was clean and neat and had two worktables below the windows, one abandoned with a half finished blouse lying neatly on top.

A tall man looked up from the second table, pausing in sewing a silver button onto a dark blue coat. "Has there been an issue with an order, Milly?" he asked, mild and pleasant, voice the nice kind of slightly-deep. He was handsome, his beard and hair neat and well groomed. He was just as well, if simply, dressed as the woman and he, too, wore a brooch made of three daisies.

His gaze fell to the by now somewhat mangled flower in your hands and he hummed in understanding, setting the coat aside. You felt your shoulders hitch up a bit at his undivided attention.

"Please, take a seat," the woman said, gesturing to an empty stool. "We'll be right with you."

As you nervously perched, rather than sat, you saw her set out a sign and close the door to the backroom.

"How can we help you?" the man asked, calm and steady, his hands folded in his lap. 

His face was kind, but there was a glint in his eyes, something as cool and sharp as the scissors lying near his elbow. You noticed a strangely golden shimmer in his eyes as well, but you were too anxious and worried to wonder about that.

"We would love to know who recommended us," the woman added and while she smiled, pretty and charming, she too had eyes of sharp, cold steel. "We love to see our business grow in the right direction, after all."

You glanced between them, wetting your lips. "My friend, Jane Martin, said I should come here." 

Should you leave? Sure, you were terrified to go back home, but could they really help? Would they even believe you? Was it right to get strangers involved, maybe even hurt? 

Lots of people were in your position, stuck with people who mistreated them. Just last week they had fished a dead woman out of the river, face and neck bruised.

At your words, subtle tension eased out of their faces and their eyes lost the sharp coldness. "Miss Martin is a very valued customer," the woman said with a smile that truly looked pleasant now, not just pretty. Something about it made your shoulders relax a little. "Forgive our caution, I am Milly and this is my husband Julius, what brings you to us?"

"You seem a bit haggard," Julius added, a soothing tone to his voice that unexpectedly helped you take a calming breath. "I'll go and make us all a cup of tea."

Milly took a seat by the free table, most likely hers, arranging her skirts in an elegant motion. Their manners were as prim and proper as those of the upper class, though their fingers were callused and you noticed a small scar on Julius' wrist as he prepared tea.

"Take your time," Milly said, voice gentle and patient and you felt your throat tighten all of a sudden, tears blurring your vision. "Speak with us whenever you're ready."

"What about your store?" you asked, an unwanted rough quality to your voice that gave away your emotional state.

"No need to worry." Julius offered you a reassuring smile.

You had no idea how they did it, but their presences felt...pleasant. You usually didn't trust strangers, but looking at them, you found the tight grip around your heart and stomach easing. They did not look at you with pity, and instead their calming steadiness felt reassuring.

Even the guilt and shame felt muted as a gentle floral scent filled the air, sunshine casting everything in soft warmth. Under other circumstances you might have left again, not wanting to bother these kind, unexpectedly pleasant people.

But the fear that had driven you out of your house still sat in your gut like a block of poisoned ice. Once again you wished you had found the courage to back out of the marriage after you had accepted the proposal in front of your family. 

Your parents however had been all-too happy that you had married into a rich family and they did not want to hear anything bad about your spouse. They especially had cut you off mid-sentence when you had suggested going public. They would not want to risk the wrath of a richer family upon themselves.

Your father had suggested that it was your fault that your spouse was...unpleasant. That you weren't sweet enough, kind enough, accommodating enough. That you didn't listen enough, that you talked back too much. You hadn't spoken with your parents since.

You had gone to the police exactly once and you knew better than to do that again. Your spouse was a valued member of higher society after all and had made sure you understood how far their influence reached.

"Here you go," Julius said, handing you the cup of tea, his fingers carefully not brushing yours, and sitting down. "Speak freely, we will believe you."

You met their gazes and they were so steady and earnest you felt breath flow into your lungs properly for the first time in days. You believed that they would believe you. It settled something within you, your withered courage taking root and growing enough to help you speak.

Haltingly you told them the story, clinging to the delicate porcelain cup Julius had handed you. You couldn't bring yourself to take a sip, but the floral fragrance and the heat warming your cold fingers helped.

"Are you safe at the moment?" Julius asked after you finished your story.

"I'm staying with my friend." For now. For as long as she could hide you at her place without your spouse causing trouble.

"If you ever find yourself unsure where to go, come to us," Milly said, gaze serious. "No matter the time. One of us will let you in and you will be safe here."

You inclined your head, hoping you were never forced to take them up on their offer. It was strange, however, that you believed that, too. A part of you, more instinct than rational thought, already felt safer. It shouldn't be possible, not when you knew how powerful your spouse was. That simple tailors couldn’t stand a chance against someone who could crush them in so many ways.

And yet...it felt like fear had no place here. Banished from this room by sunshine and the presence of these two, who had eyes tinged in gold. Who looked at you with so much truth nothing could have shaken it apart. You realized that your fingers had stopped shaking, that your skin no longer felt cold.

There was a thread of calm that had settled within you while you had spoken, easing your heart and soul.

"There is but one thing we need of you," Julius said, drawing your attention. "Would you mind leaving the key to your home with us? You can retrieve it again at the end of the week, at which point you can return home."

"Oh, of course." You pulled the key out of your pocket, handing it over. "What are you going to do?"

Milly's smile could have been reassuring and compassionate at first glance, but all it reminded you of was a razor sharp blade held against an unprotected throat. Not your throat, you still felt that sense of safety, but more like a weapon waiting to drink the blood of its enemy. "We'll take care of things, don't you worry."

You should keep asking. You should ask what they were going to do. If you were a good person, like the priest preached you were supposed to be, you would ask for the key back and request they forget your visit. You should return home, obedient and quiet and accept the place you had been given. The hand fate had dealt you.

But your mouth felt glued shut and the courage rooted within you stubbornly grew a tiny bloom of hope. Fuck fate. Fuck God if this was what He considered just and right. You deserved better, you deserved to live without fear and pain. You handed over the cup when Julius held out his hand for it.

"Let me show you out," Milly said and you found yourself secretly glad to not immediately lose her company. "There is a carriage that will take you back to your friend." When you tried to protest, she silenced you with a sweet, genuine smile. "Let us look after you as long as you're here."

While Julius cleaned up the cups, Milly accompanied you to the front step of the shop and waved over a waiting carriage. "Make sure she gets home safe, Leopold," she said, offering her hand to help you into the carriage. 

"Stay safe," she murmured at last and for just a moment, you swore the gold gleam in her eyes was brighter than ever. You nodded and she closed the door, her gaze holding yours until the carriage lurching into motion. Even then you looked back at her and saw her watching you leave until you rounded the corner.

You gripped the thoroughly mangled daisy tightly and closed your eyes. You didn't dare pray, worried that god might notice and put a stop to things. But deep down, you hoped you would be free soon, no matter how it happened.

*.*.*

You returned to the shop at the end of the week, feeling exhausted and frayed, like an old, worn piece of fabric. Your friend had done her best to distract you and keep you busy, but it hadn't helped against the tension that wouldn't leave you.

It was early when you showed up and Milly had only just opened the store, since both had just finished setting up the last of their wares.

"Ah, good day, my dear," Milly said with unexpected warmth, stepping toward you as though you were truly welcome company. 

You were surprised to see how happy and languid she appeared to be. Her husband moved with the same deep relaxation when he bowed his head respectfully to you, offering a charming smile. 

Strangely enough, they reminded you of well fed cats enjoying a spot of golden sunlight. An air of effortless confidence surrounded them, a quiet strand of power that wove into the sense of safety that lingered all around them.

"I'm not too early?" you asked, your nervously wringing hands claming. Whatever they had done, it had made them very and deeply happy.

Milly's smile morphed into a grin and the gold in her eyes was brighter than ever before. She seemed so radiant you couldn't look away. She was easily the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. "No, of course not. Are you ready to head back home?"

You didn't mention that the house of your spouse had never felt like home. The last time you would have called a place that, you had been a child of eight and had stayed with your aunt and grandmother during the summer months. After the falling-out your father had with his side of the family, you hadn't seen them again.

"I am," you answered anyway. You couldn't continue to live at your friend's place. Even if she didn't mind, she was currently seeing a particularly sweet gentleman and once they became serious about each other, you'd swiftly overstay your welcome.

Julius stepped forward, all fluid grace and pulled your key from his pocket. His eyes too seemed brighter than ever, making your eyes linger on his face. He really was so very handsome.

"All is well," he said, quiet and certain, when handing over the key, his fingertips ever so carefully brushing yours.

"Alright." Your voice was soft and you glanced between them. "Thank you. Do I owe you anything?"

"No, not at all, this was our pleasure," Milly answered, voice as sweet as honey and her smile felt like it was meant just for you. "Anything else we can do for you?"

"No, um, but really, thank you." You gave them a clumsy, heartfelt bow and they elegantly curtseyed back, an amused mischievousness to their smiles. "I'll get out of your hair now."

"Our hair hardly minds," Julius answered. "Please, feel free to come back whenever you like."

"We'll be glad to help in whatever way we can, or just to chat," Milly added, leaning against her husband, both of them looking right at home with each other and within their store. "Be sure to speak to Leopold if you like, he'll take you home."

You couldn't help but smile back a bit and after a last dip of your head, you stepped back outside. An elderly woman bustled past you with her grandson, grandly telling him to pick whatever he liked best for his wedding.

You took a deep breath, so deep it almost ached in your lungs and you clutched the key tight. Was...was it over? Just like that? All your worries and fears could cease to be? Rubbing a hand over your face, you approached Leopold, who was softly talking with the horses, massaging their foreheads.

The young man, just barely out of boyhood, was happy to bring you home, helping you into the carriage and whistling as he started driving. You clung tightly to the key, nerves making your stomach squirm and your heart was beating harder, the closer you came to home. 

And yet, fear didn't claw its way up your throat. You believed the tailors that it was done and dealt with. You...trusted them, as inexplicable as that might be. It was as if a small bit of safety had stayed with you after your visit to their store and it accompanied you even now.

At last, Leopold stopped and you took a deep breath before leaving the carriage. "Thank you," you said, tipping him some money and his face lit up.

"Have a nice day," he said with a cheerful bow of his head, then drove on.

The house looked just like you remembered it, flowers blooming and nothing was out of place. Swallowing and taking another deep breath, you walked up the path to the front door. You unlocked the door, cautiously peeking inside.

Nothing. The house smelled like fresh air and the maid must've been by yesterday, for new flowers filled the vase on a side-table. Stepping past the threshold, you carefully walked onward, your steps sounding too loud in the silent house.

You found your spouse sitting in the study, breathing calmly and not reacting to your presence. The sharp stab of bitter disappointment quickly faded to startled realization. Empty eyes stared ahead unseen, no emotion visible on your spouse's face.

"Um..." You managed to say after a long moment, but it brought you no reaction.

Your mind rebelled, hurrying towards the excuse of drugs and poison and other mixtures, but deep down you knew your spouse was gone. The thing that sat there was an empty shell, no soul remaining, and you had no idea what to do.

In the end, after puttering around nervously for a few minutes, you ended up sending for the family doctor. The older man who showed up usually came for you, making sure you'd heal fine. 

"Oh my, this does not look good," he muttered the moment he spotted your spouse, hurrying onward. "When did you notice something was wrong?"

"I was visiting a friend for a few days," you said and his gaze was knowing when he glanced at you. "I, um, came back this morning and noticed how quiet it was. I was glad at first, but when I went in here to check..." You gestured at the limp, unresponsive body.

The doctor hummed in understanding, already reaching out to find the issue. It didn't take long before they sent for a carriage to bring your partner to the hospital. You were allowed to come along and nurses hurriedly wheeled your spouse away the moment you arrived.

You sat and waited, time passing both too fast and too slow. At last, a doctor approached you, quiet and apologetic. It seemed your partner had suffered an aneurysm and there was nothing they could do. Your spouse would be dead soon.

The tears that rose sharply were seen as tears of grief, instead of the soul-deep relief that swept through you. The staff was very kind, comforting you and letting you sit with your spouse, who didn't even make it through the night. Finally, you were free.

Afterwards you went home, standing in the large, rich house and you realized that it all belonged to you now. The money of your spouse belonged to you. But most of all, you were finally, finally free.

You broke down crying, helpless laughter mixing into the tears and the gasping. Afterwards you took a carriage to your friend's place, forgetting the late hour. You didn't want to stay in that house any longer than you had to. Your friend was startled when she opened bleary eyed, then grimly happy when you told her the news.

"They solve problems like that," she said after holding you in her arms. "The tailors. No one asks how they do it or what exactly they do and we don't rat them out either. I'm so glad they helped."

You fell asleep in her arms and when you woke, the sun shining through the window made you smile. Your heart felt like a newly uncaged bird, almost too afraid to fly and taste that freedom fully.

Hope bloomed like a meadow of wild flowers and you breathed through a new wave of tears. Your future had turned from a grim, dark end into something bright and open. It was all yours, yours to finally do with as you pleased.

The house was soon sold, the art within donated, along with a portion of the money. You fended off your parents, who swept in to try and weasel out money and power for themselves. They deserved nothing after marrying you off to someone they suspected would mistreat you and then left you in the jaws of a metaphorical wolf.

The air was growing cold by the time everything was taken care of and you had moved into a new place, your friend supporting you all the way. 

You only rarely suffered from nightmares these days and you slowly unearthed all the pieces of you that you had buried. The pieces your spouse had not liked, had despised. There was damage done, undoubtedly, and some days it felt like too much, but you had so many reasons to keep going. To keep moving forward.

There were people, however, who did deserve a piece of your newfound fortune. Leaves were crunching beneath your shoes as you approached the store at the end of Baker Street, this time not afraid. No, you were anything but afraid.

Julius was taking care of some customers as you stepped inside, a pleasant scent greeting you. A smile was on your face and you breathed in that steadfast safety that lingered with both tailors present. It eased your heart as it had the last two times and this time you couldn't help but sink into it fully, shoulders relaxing.

Milly approached you after ringing up a lady at the counter, smiling in warm welcome. "How lovely to see you again," she said and there was a brief, hard glint in her eyes. "I hope all went well?"

"Yes." You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small box. "I know you said no gratitude was necessarry, but I still wish to give you this. I, um, picked it myself."

She looked charmed and chuckled softly. "How could I ever refuse such a sweet gesture?"

Her fingertips were warm as they brushed yours ever so gently, while she accepted the box. Your hands tingled and you only realized you had leaned slightly towards her, when you caught yourself.

She held your gaze a moment longer, before glancing down and curiously opening it. A happy smile broke out across her face and her gaze grew warm and soft and this time you could admit to yourself that there was nothing normal about the golden shimmer brightening in her eyes.

"You are truly beautiful, inside and out," she murmured, closing the box again and your breath caught a little at her words. "Thank you, for this sweet gift."

You couldn't help but smile back shyly. Julius joined you in this moment, a satisfied customer leaving with a happy spring in their step. "Oh? Did my lovely wife get something wonderful?"

"Indeed." She grinned up cheekily. "And I am not going to share."

"There, um, there is no need." You pulled another box from your other pocket and Julius' eye brightened, that golden shimmer growing. "If you'd like?"

"I would love anything you'll gift me," Julius said, voice dipping a bit to something private, just for you. 

He accepted the box, his fingertips brushing yours softly as well, warm and slightly calloused. You curled your hands in, as though you could somehow hold both their touch close this way. Your face started to ache a bit with how much you were smiling now.

Julius opened his box, eyes widening slightly, before he looked up, his smile sweet and charmed. "This is wonderful, thank you."

"I hope you like it, both of you. And that I chose well." You resisted the urge to rock a little on your feet, something your spouse had always hated. You paused. Well, now you had to do it, even if it was just to spite the dark memories in your mind. "You gave me back more than I can put into words."

"Seeing a smile on your face is reward enough," Julius said and for a moment you swore he was about to reach out, before catching himself. "Happiness is a lovely look on you."

"I am happy." And you were. For the first time in far too long, you were happy again.

Ever since you had gotten rid of that house, ever since you had gotten your life back, no matter the struggle and darkness that liked to creep through your mind like seeping tar, happiness and light found you. 

It wriggled in through the cracks, surprised you on calm, sunshine mornings and came in the shape of your new, soft little cat. Every time you ate something sweet that had been forbidden before, every time you picked up a book your spouse would have taken away, it felt like you were stitching yourself back together. Crooked maybe, and never like you were before, but...this was already so much more than you had dared to hope for half a year ago.

"We could take a break," Milly offered, gesturing at the currently empty store. "Would you like to join us for tea, darling?"

The question held a tinge of promise and you found you wanted to reach for it. You found you were ready for what might be offered. "I would love to, thank you."

Milly smiled and went to close the store for the afternoon, while Julius guided you to the backroom, his hand a warm, light and most of all, welcome weight at your back.

You didn't care what they were, if they were human or not. You didn't care what they did to people like your spouse. Not when being in their presence made you feel as though you were wrapped in a blanket spun out of gentle, warm sunshine.

*.*.*

Part Two!

If you’d like to read more and support me at the same time, please consider checking out my patreon! I post monthly short stories and every membership goes towards paying my bill and freeing up more time for more stories that I can write for you!

#my writing #original writing #short story #implied abuse #implied murder #i am SO NERVOUS about this piece #this is something that would not leave me alone #I hope I managed to find any and all spelling mistakes #if i mis-tagged or forgot to tag something let me know #i want people to have a safe as possible reading experience #nothing here is graphic but it can still be triggering #healing and moving on towards the end #hi yeah i am on occasion a poly writer #hope this didn't turn out badly written or anything

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Anyway I feel like there's not enough love for ranch hands and other similar jobs, and there's literally so much there. Someone allergic/sensitive to hay having to handle it pretty much every single day, deep cleaning the barn and getting set off by the dust, allergic to one or more of the animals they have to work with, being outside all day working in the middle of allergy season, not getting even a few hours of rest when they catch a cold because there's too much that needs to be done and there's nobody else to do it, having to sit in the rain and fix a fence post when they're already coming down with something. I could go on, like I really feel like we're sleeping on this too much.

#snz #snz kink #based almost entirely off my own experiences lmao #that's how i know there's substance #also if you're into the more stoic 'if I'm breathing i can work' type people #kinda standoffish and not particularly enjoying human company let alone concern #literally perfect

[canisalbus]

Vasco and Machete are absolutely adorable, your style is so lovely and you draw the softest beds I’ve ever seen in any art ever

.

#thank you! #softest beds is a whole new compliment that's so sweet #let me go off on a weird and personal tangent for a minute #I've always found the concept of sleeping very touching somehow #it's this mandatory resting period literally everyone has to plan their life around no one has the power to avoid sleeping #if you neglect it your mind and body start to break down very quickly #sleep is such a neutral state of being no one is particularly sad or happy or evil or good while they're asleep they're just logged off #sleeping feels nice it's rejuvenating it's one of the few universal pleasures every single person has an access to #and I find it terribly cute how people have different little bedtime rituals #socks on socks off various pillow and blanket arrangements certain sounds that make them sleepy etc #and sleeping next to someone is such an act of trust #it's extremely intimate as is sex doesn't necessarily have to factor into it #getting comfortable and going unconscious with someone at the same place at the same time that just touches my heart #especially if you're invited into their bed which is a very private space a person's own little nest where the world can't reach them #even if you fall asleep in public transport there's this vulnerability to it and for the most part people respect the sanctity of sleep #and tend to leave sleeping people alone at least in my limited experience #I like drawing my characters sleeping because it feels like I'm doing them a favor granting them a little respite #anonymous #answered

[ghouljams]

So you might’ve said something previously and I just missed it but I was reading the tags on your post about soap and Goose and goose had an accident? And Soap drove her to the hospital??? Have you said something before and I just missed it it’s 5am here I feel like I’m going insane trying to figure this out-

Goose's accident happens at the end of Soap's first summer with them and is part of Goose's story that I haven't talked about yet because, well, there's no good way to bring it up... but it colors a lot of how Price treats her on the farm as well as how close she and Soap are. Nothing brings people together like some solid medical need. We are also going to do some serious suspension of disbelief as I write moderately improbably situations and injuries, everyone be nice.

You never really bought the whole slow motion play in movies when characters get hurt. You've seen people get hurt, seriously hurt, and it always happens fast. It's quick and messy, and you've never needed a slow motion edit to know that it must have hurt like a bitch.

You get it now. That your brain must have been trying to find the right angle to record the trauma, that it must have been searching for some way out of this. Once you actually were hit everything sped back up, the pain sped back up. You try to lay still and stare up at the clouds, you're supposed to stay still until someone comes to patch you up. You're cold.

Soap drops to his knees next to you. You think that cloud looks a lot like a butterfly. He presses down hard on your stomach and the ringing in your ears grows louder until it pops and you feel the full burning extent of the pain. It's excruciating. Every nerve in your body lit up on high alert to make sure you know you've been nearly gutted.

People are yelling, Soap is yelling. You've never heard him yell before. His face is twisted into something unreadable as he looks at you. The world seem very fuzzy and watery, or maybe you're crying? Are you crying? You can't feel anything past the electric shock of ripping pain from the wound.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," He's telling you, "I have to keep pressure on-" and you don't really have the brain power to parse the Scotts that he's speaking past that.

Your stomach, aside from feeling like its been thrust into a salted fire, is wet. That must be the blood. And there's something hard on your chest, something that's speaking in a calm tone.

You try to focus on your breathing, but that only brings fresh shocks of pain through you. It feels like every twitch makes you want to flinch away from your own body. You've never felt a pain so all-consuming before. So bad you can't even draw a breath to scream from it.

The flashing lights of the ambulance sure got here quick. Or, no, have you been down that long? Someone shines a light in your eyes like they're some sort of doctor. Soap is talking to them with short military precision. You've never ridden in an ambulance before, you'd almost be excited if you could think of anything but the pain. Actually, you can think of something else.

You think the Lucas' have to be the only morons in the state that don't have their bull's horns tipped.

#Soap keeps it together just long enough to throw up in the ambulance #war and treating wounded soldiers? fine nothing #treating his wounded sister? traumatizing the worst thing he's ever had to do #Price never forgives himself for being deployed when this happened #doesn't let Goose help out on anyone else's farm again #doesn't let her in the pasture alone #puts up a fight when she wants to compete in the rodeo #Soap literally stripping the shirt off his back to apply pressure #GOD They all love you so much Goose #Duck is working at the hospital and gets called to the ER it's the worst day of her life #Goose gets a cool scar out of the whole experience #oc: Goose #johnny soap mactavish #cowboy!141

[jvlianbashir]

i know that others have already commented on this but most of my high school interns are so helpless when it comes to technology that doesn't completely spoonfeed the experience that it is actually terrifying

#tbc our awareness of this means we now spend extra time on these skills but it is a shock at how many cant navigate basics on a desktop #let alone use a program like excel #ppl just assumed these kids would be 'digital natives' and be far ahead of us naturally #but the reality is they grew up on phones and tablets and apps that strongly handhold and control your experience #and computer skills - esp on desktop - are something you have to learn #and that includes learning where to go to try looking for an answer yourself first #not st #doctor's log

[lwiann]

I need mfs to leave me the fuck alone. I have done nothing but vibe and be delusional. I get it you hate gortash. Stop being on my notifications loser 😭

Like. Telling artists the way they draw gortash is bad because hes ugly in game go eat sand. Genuinely. Im so tired.

Dont really care if people hate him. Thats normal. I just do not like seeing this on my notifications and my posts.

#let me rest #i would like to be left alone #rant #personal #being a gortash liker is more stressful than my genshin fandom experience lmaosjdjdjkdks #really saying something

[uncanny-tranny]

When I find it hard to do certain things, I like to pretend I am a neanderthal living in a cave with my clan, and I must do The Thing in order to survive.

So, when I'm doing cardio at the gym, I'm actually chasing and tracking a mammoth, and when I need to cook, well, I'm not cooking on a stove top, I am hurdled over the first fire and watching the fat of our kill drip down onto the burning wood. And when I find it hard to crochet, I pretend that the first winter storm is coming and our clan needs me to make blankets to hurdle under and that I must contribute.

I hope whatever you do to do The Things will help. It is a uniquely personable trait to motivate yourself through pretend and stories. That's what makes this life interesting - that's what makes you feel larger than yourself 💛

#mental health #positivity #it helps that i absolutely adore learning things about ancient people too - it's endlessly fascinating #unironically if somebody has textbook/video recommendations about neanderthals/ancient civilization let me know i will froth at the mouth #i like talking about this because it gives other people ideas about how they can motivate themselves #and personally the feeling of being ancient or a part of something old makes me feel that #in addition to the There Are 8 Billion People principle i work on the There Have Been ~117 Billion People Here principle #i find it comforting to think that i don't stand out significantly in a good or bad way because of the sheer NUMBER of people who have live #the human brain is bad at computing those numbers but... just... that's an insurmountable number #there truly are very VERY few experiences truly unique and that's not a bad thing #that just means that you aren't forgotten nor are you alone in anything #i was watching a video about somebody making flax into thread using a paper that was published about ancient textiles #and holy shit i wanted to bite somebody because i was so interested in it and it's just so humanizing to both us but also ancient people #those people probably used very very similar techniques that the video maker did - at first she used a rock to get the fibers #and then she remarked that saliva helped to get to the fiber of the flax and i wonder how many ancient people also did that

[oatmilk-vampire]

The homoerotic tension between me and the killer that just threw me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing

#this is about my experience with dbd btw #ji woon hak literally would not leave steve harrington alone #he igored everyone else #just hurt me enough to make me fall #then he let me crawl away #only to pick me up and carry me #then he put me back down to repeat the viscious cycle #he even let me get healed/heal myself #it was the best game i ever played #i still died btw #ji woon hak #steve harrington #dbd #dbd killer #dead by daylight #homoerotism #homoerotic #gay #homoerotic tension