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[yoificfinder]

In celebration of women, here are some fics centered around the great women of YOI! Happy international women's day! ♀️✨️

(Don't) Give a Damn by @forochel [T, 9K]

Mari, through the years,

an open door by tripcyclone [G, 8K]

Lilia never wanted children of her own, but caring for Victor gives her a glimpse into the life she chose to pass by.

and your feet will follow by @prinzenhasserin [T, 13K]

Lilia’s relationship with her fellow ballerinas wasn’t usually complicated. Usually, she knew exactly where she stood. Not so with Minako Okukawa who had disappeared from the ballet world some years ago to hide in the dance studio of a backwater town in Japan.

Lilia didn’t care about that, of course. Not at all. She just deserved a vacation, to Japan, incidentally.

another girl in another time by cityboys [G, 11K]

Wouldn’t it be cool if there really is another version of you out there?

Beautiful in Knowing by @val-creative [T, 1K]

Sara knew she was a girl, even if nobody else did or believed her.

She ordered Michele to call her "Lady Sara" from now on. He would roll his eyes and grumble, but never attempt to misgender her. She liked "Sara" — it meant "lady, princess, noblewoman". And she would never go back to her deadname.

if friends were flowers, i'd pick you by windupbirdgirl [G, 4K]

During the first two years of high school, Yuuko finds she barely has time to breathe. The sky seems very far away, the sea even more so. She hasn’t gone to the rink in months.

if love is king, who wears the crown by @crollalanzaa [G, 1K]

“Second is seen as nothing,” Christophe had derided.

“But that moment you glide onto the ice, that hush of the audience, and that expectation, isn’t that worth something?”

“You speak as if you know. You used to skate?"

Past tense. It still stung, even if it was expected.

Minako knows exactly what it's like to be at the top of your game, and she remembers the descent just as clearly.

if she wants me by renaissance [G, 6K]

Hiroko and Minako, then and now.

if the sea has any draw for you by weird_bird [E, 8K]

The first time Mila saw her dance in person, her power funneled down into elegance, the granite of her face transmogrified to marble, she almost gave her the password to her bank account, she’s that good.

kagura by night by seventhstar / @pencilwalla [T, 1K]

The world around her is like the mountains.

A mortal lifespan is narrow; mortals watch the mountain’s unchanging faces, unravaged by the same measure of time that takes a human from dust to dust, and think them immortal in comparison. But stone erodes, just as flesh decays. It just takes longer.

If she watches long enough, everything changes. Languages drift until all the words she learned before are meaningless. Technology changes until she ceases to believe in magic because human ingenuity is more infinite than the stars. What is beautiful, what is polite, what is wrong, what is right—time, given its way, reshapes all.

But Minako’s body remains as it has always been. That’s why she loves to dance, she supposes; it’s the one thing time cannot take from her.

Katsudon by @azriona [G, 8K]

Hiroko doesn’t need to see to coat pork cutlets in egg and panko. She has made this dish for her family for over thirty years; she’ll make it another thirty, if she’s lucky.

Now she makes it for Yuuri and Victor as they fly home from Barcelona, with silver around their necks and gold around their fingers.

keep me steady as we go by orphan_account [G, 3K]

When Isabella stood and crossed the room to where he sat she saw her notebook open in his lap, turned to the last page of their to-do list, all but three items crossed off with less than a month to the wedding date. License. Ceremony. Everything after. She saw the angle of his gaze, too, not on the words but straight ahead, staring blank and glassy and brittle into some invisible place she still wasn’t sure she could follow him to, yet. And yet she had been the one who’d promised to try—and to keep promising, forever and forever.

Kooks by BoxWineConfessions [G, 3K]

Mari clasps her right hand across her left hand and rests them both atop her growing stomach. “I guess you’re just lucky that your father, I mean your other father, my brother-“ Mari giggles. “God, it all sounds so weird, doesn’t it? Do you care? Do you care that we’re all so fucked up and we don’t care at all?” Mari laughs again. It’s all she can do when she hurts this much, and wants a cigarette this much, but can’t stop smiling despite the fact that her body seems to hate her so much. “Well he means the world to me. That’s why I have you.”

Living in the Maybe by @adrianners [T, 6K]

It wasn’t hard to spot a 180cm platinum blond in Fukuoka International Airport. Especially when he was the only person wearing sunglasses. Indoors. At night.

Mari picks Viktor up at the airport when he returns from Moscow. Without Yuuri there to play his usual role of interpreter, they learn to communicate around their linguistic, cultural, and personal barriers.

my better self by @spookyfoot [G, 1K]

Mila's the first friend Yuuri's made in Russia. Technically, Yuuri became friends with Yurio in Hasetsu, but he'd never say that to Yurio's face.

On his first day training in Russia, Mila stole Yuuri from the rink and showed him pictures of Victor and Georgi wearing Spice Girls t-shirts Victor had picked up at a consignment shop during Skate America in 2006, and a video of them skating a synchronized routine to "Stacy's Mom."

"Don't let anyone here intimidate you. I guarantee none of them are scarier than Yura." They watched Victor skate circles around Yuri on the ice, Mila's camera primed for blackmail material—just in case.

_________

Yuuri and some of the women in his life, through the years.

Variations on a Theme by BoxWineConfessions [M, 20K]

Mari doesn't like it when the past and the present overlap so easily. Mari knows the mischievous grin and the burn of eyes that linger too long. They're the trademark of girls who are still figuring out what they want, but want relentlessly. Mari is tired of letting people in, only to have to say goodbye when their vacation is over.

Mila has experienced this before, this knowing little smile that implies that they know something about her body that she doesn’t. It comes across as cocky, and arrogant on men, and gentle with Mari. Mari looks like she's just told her some kind of wonderful secret.

Together, they reshape their expectations.

#yoi #yuri on ice #yoi fanfic #yoi fic rec

[hometoursandotherstuff]

1917 Fairytale house in Brooklyn, New York was apparently, by the work of a realtor, Photoshopped to show how some of the rooms could look if remodeled. I'll leave it to you to decide which you like better. 6bds, 5ba, $8.750M. For all that money, who would want to come in and have to remodel?

They didn't take many pictures, and as usual, they're not in order. This is an entrance with a working fountain and they only give a glimpse of the ceiling.

Okay, so this is the first room that was redone. This the current room.

And this is after, in the realtor's vision.

Now, this is confusing. In the pictures above you can clearly see thru the doorway that in the before photo, the fireplace was yellow, but in the after, it's white. So this is a now photo. Where's the after? I'd like to see what the realtor did to it.

The dining room now.

If the realtor had their way, this gorgeous antique sideboard would be gone and wood paneled walls would be painted white.

And, the dining room after. The realtor is killing this house.

Kitchen now.

Kitchen after. The existing cabinets were painted white and the upper doors were removed. The green tile was replaced by a granite or marble backsplash. The ceiling was also repainted in a more modern style and an island was installed thru the miracle of Photoshop.

The pantry, however, remained the same.

I hope these aren't same stairs, b/c if the realtor suggests replacing the railings, it would be a crime. The only reason I say that these aren't the same is b/c the window looks slightly different.

The principle bedroom looks like it had a modernization.

And, the downstairs family room looks fairly new.

Flagstone patio.

Pagoda style gate.

The exterior is quite beautiful. Look at the jagged wall on the right.

Scenic entrance to the garages.

Beautiful gardens.

And, there's also a pool.

#fairytale home #stone houses #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour

[an-unraveling-unknown]

I feel like you saying this is like you're setting up a trap for me like:

🪤

Well it worked, didn’t it?? /t

and AWJDHAKDHDFF THANK YOU!!! ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE

FIRST OFF... my beloved piece of petrified wood. oouughfff oh man I love it so much, probably my favorite out of everything

previously-mentioned-in-another-post mystery rock!! still torn between it being either Amazonite or Adventurine

ROCK WITH HOLES!!!! found it at the beach, have since never parted with it

^^^ Aforementioned-in-another-post raw apatite :DD

Rocks I found by the lake and thought were nifty

SO MUCH RIVER ROCK!!! A bit of cool gravel in there as well, not to mention a few minerals (including feldspar and a small bit of fluorite that I did not in fact get from the river)

in order - Dalmatian Jasper, Amethyst (which is actually a type of purple mineral quartz!!), and Sodalite, my first bunch of collected crystals :DD

in order again, Tiger's Eye, Rose Quartz, and the infamous Adventurine!!

just cos' they're related in name terms, Bloodstone and Dragon's Blood Stone!! Dragon's Blood Stone is SO cool, the picture doesn't do it justice at all, but Bloodstone is still probably my favorite

SOME OF MY MOST FAVORITE OUT OF EVERYTHING (I know I'm beginning to sound like a broken record, but I really do love all of these rocks n crystals n minerals very much) Kambaba Jasper [WHICH IS ACTUALLY SEDIMENTARY-FOSSILIZED ALGAE. LOSES MIND] Malachite [LOVE THAT SHIT] and Unakite [which is just so pleasant. looks like a grass n flower field someone could run through I ADORE IT]

Obsidian!! cool stuff, real shiny even without it being polished due to its microcystaline structure - if I recall correctly, its formed when volcanic magma cools so darn fast due to either water or air that the crystals it's composed of barely have any time to grow.

Strawberry Quartz and Agate!! Agate is really just quartz in structure, but it looks cooler so it has a separate name (don't quote me on that, I'm not a geologist), really pretty stuff - I don't quite recall where either of these came from actually, might've been a gift from a friend

Here we have Cream Yellow Onyx, which generally forms alongside Limestone (I think) and Howlite (which looks an awful lot like marble but its NOT, its actually a calcium borosilicate hydroxide mineral generally found in deposits of Something or Another <<< forgot)

lastly, MORE MYSTERY ROCK!! I thought this was Gneiss for a while, given it looks vaguely like a metamorphic rock and the color scheme isn't all that off, but it could also just be plain ol' granite (which Gneiss metamorphisizes from given enough heat and pressure)

(the orange veins here and there may or may not be iron/rusting - not entirely sure)

I think thats all of 'em! Thank you for humoring me friend lmao, I always forget how much fun I have rambling about geology :DD

#rocks #rock collection #salsa'd #geology

[icecreamdreams]

an inukag oneshot

“So are you thinking granite or marble?” was the question that came through the computer. 

“Let’s go with granite for the premium model, so we can use similar slate colors for the economy ones.” Inuyasha replied.

“Sounds good, boss.”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. Technically he was the boss and head of his own architectural firm, but only because he didn’t want to spend time working for someone else. He wanted to see his own designs brought to life.

He was pretty good at it too. His current project was designing nice elegant homes that could be built with a range in budget by substituting some of the more expensive materials for more reasonably priced ones. Inuyasha really liked this project because it added the challenge of appealing to a variety of tastes and making those looks attainable to everyone. He liked the idea of his work being accessible to everyone, not just those that could pay top dollar for it.

“So what are we thinking for roofing options?” a consultant asked.

“I’d like to hear your ideas,” Inuyasha responded. Usually he’d go into the office, but he enjoyed the flexibility of working from the comfort of his own home.

His home was another marvel of his design. In fact, he’d drawn up the plans as an anniversary gift for Kagome when they were dating. Now, a few years later, they were happily married and pleasantly expecting. Inuyasha couldn’t help but think he was living his dream.

The meeting droned on for a few more minutes before Inuyasha was caught off guard by… the scent of tears?

“Hey, I’m gonna have to jump off the call. Let’s reconnect tomorrow on those roofing options.” After successfully excusing himself from his job, the hanyou got up and started sniffing after his wife.

“Kagome?” he called out, making his way up the stairs. He wondered what triggered her tears today. At this stage in her pregnancy, she was prone to more emotional outbursts. A few days ago she cried because she saw a ladybug.

“Kagome? Where are you, babe?” When Inuyasha got to the second floor he immediately knew where she was. When he got to the entrance of their bedroom he found her curled up on the bed, tears in full force. He approached with care, taking up a spot right next to his wife.  “Kagome? Baby, tell me what’s going on?”

Slowly, Kagome rolled her head up to look at him, fresh tears staining her puffy pink face. Kagome inhaled deeply before stating “I was watching the animal show and two of the baby elephants were sick!!!” The tears were mounting to sobs now. “I got so scared, what if they died? Then I just started crying and I couldn’t stop it.”

Ahh. So her beloved animal show was now an enemy in his household. Inuyasha nodded in understanding. He would hate it if anything he used for comfort became the very thing he needed refuge from. Well, he couldn’t do anything about the elephants but he knew how to help his wife.

Inuyasha lifted her curled form into his lap to smother her with snuggles until she could calm down. Fortunately, proximity to her loving husband seemed like just what Kagome needed. She took deep breaths as her tears subsided, uncurling herself in Inuyasha’s arms. As her breathing evened out, she took an opportunity to sniff at his shirt, letting his comforting scent wash over her. 

“What are you doing?” Kagome heard from somewhere above her. She paused then looked up Inuyasha hesitantly.

“You know, inuhanyou aren’t the only ones that find nice scents comforting and enjoyable.” The pout that settled on her lips after she spoke, Inuyasha thought, was adorable. In fact, looking at Kagome, he saw what amounted to his whole universe. His wife and best friend, pregnant with their first child. He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

“Well, as long as it helps you feel better,” Inuyasha said, stroking her cheek gently with his thumb. “How about we order some food and watch some animal shows where there’s no risk of death?”

Kagome cocked her head at him. “How will we know that?”

“Easy, we’ll just rewatch our favourite episodes. We added them to our list, remember? Besides, I’m sure it's been a while since we’ve seen some of these episodes.”

That sounded good to Kagome. “Plus now, if any animal gets sick in the show, you’ll be here to watch it with me. You can fast forward and look while I close my eyes.”

Inuyasha chuckled at that. The animal shows really presented the whole circle of life, but Kagome was really fond of animals and she enjoyed learning about them. Regardless, he didn’t mind giving up his afternoon of work to spend time cuddling with his wife. This was an upgrade.

“Sure babe, whatever you want. Now, what should we eat?”

#inuyasha #my writing shy writing #inuyasha x kagome #inukag #icecreamdreams

[stesierra]

Find the Word tag!

Stealing an open tag from @aziz-reads! The words to search your WIP for are thought, though, tough and through. I'm pulling from Stitches and Memories.

I'm going to tag @fire-but-ashes-too, @fishythewriter and @anonymousfoz. Open tag for anyone else! Your words are buried, claws, ice and justice.

Thought

They walked single file on and on until Antea had no idea how long they had been under the cave's oppressive roof. At last, they turned a corner, and there before them stood the ruin.

The water was gone, leaving a vast and empty cavern that arched high overhead. At the center of it polished marble walls stood beautiful and sleek, two stories high and curved around some treasure at their heart. They had barely started to crumble, some of the capstones falling to lie like scattered pearls on the granite floor. A door faced them, a perfect circular arch. It beckoned them inside.

Antea took a step back as pain split her head in two. They had come here. They had come--

She didn't remember anything about her father, this time, but she still had the fit. When it was over, Jedan helped her up, and if his hands lingered on her shoulders longer than necessary, well, she wasn't complaining. He didn't say anything. None of them said anything. The silence of the cave was too complete for that.

She crept into the building, not sure what she was afraid of. Her own head, or maybe her father. But either way, the sight of the curving hallways of the ruin made her heart pound faster and her palms sweat. Nothing jumped out of at her, for the ruins were empty, everything covered with a thick layer of dust. Old stone tables and chairs still stood along the walls, intricately carved with dragons. Their stone eyes watched Antea as she led the way deeper into the building. And it was at one of those dragon-carved tables that Antea found the first skeleton.

It was sprawled sideways across a bench, its spine and ribs and pelvis holding together as if they were still part of a living thing. From the layout of the body, the head and limbs had stuck off the edges of the bench after the occupant had died. Gravity had tugged at them until they had come free and tumbled to the ground. They rested there, the hands curled in on themselves, the skull staring up at Antea with a gaping mouth and a full set of teeth.

Reza took a step back. Antea said, "This one's not a deer, and I don't remember it being here."

"No," Vilsel said grimly. "But she has been dead a very long time, so if you don't remember your head is worse off than I thought. Whoever murdered her is dead either by execution or old age."

"She?" Antea asked.

Reza's eyes narrowed. "Murder?"

He pointed. "See the cuts on the ribs there? Someone put a sword through her. And you can tell her sex by the shape of the pelvis."

Antea took a step back. "Are those the sort of details they teach you to notice in constable school?"

"Some of them," he said. "Let us move on, and leave this one to her rest."

Though

The moon was full, spreading just enough cold light to see the shadows of fences and farmhouses, so they plodded on through the night, tripping over burrows and blundering through spider webs strung like lace between strands of tall grass. Vilsel drove them on relentlessly, convinced that the farmer would work his way free and report them at any second.

"I'm tired," Reza complained as they pushed through another field of baby oats. She lagged at the back of the party, her steps dragging as though she'd walked twice the distance as everyone else.

Vilsel said, "That's too bad, Your Highness. March."

Tough- couldn't find this one.

Through

After lunch, they marched on with Vilsel barking orders at them as if they were constables in training instead of lost citizens. Jedan fell back to walk beside her and said, "Do you remember what I said about training the favored, Antea?"

"What specifically?"

"That the main part of training a favored is teaching her to use her god-granted powers."

"How are you going to do that when we're not even sure what they are?"

"We know a few of them." He listed on his fingers, "Detecting falsehood, determining the truth, and forcing confession. It gives us a place to start. Detecting falsehoods should be an easy one to test."

"Oh, all right," Antea said. "We'll practice. Tell me what you think of me. Throw a few lies in there, and let me figure out what's true."

Jedan froze from the waist up, although his feet kept plodding on through the field. "What? Oh, no, that's not--"

Antea knew an evasion when she heard one. "You don't want to do it."

"No, I don't want to do it," he said, dropping his gaze to the ground.

"Well, there's no good reason for that, unless you don't want me to know what you think of me for some reason." She frowned, turning over in her mind all the opinions Jedan might have about her in the privacy of his head. "Do you secretly pity me for being sick? Think I'm annoying? Regret leaving Drazen with me in the first place? Think it's my fault we're being hunted? Because you know it probably is." Her throat closed as she forced herself to list all the options. She stopped before she was done because there was too much wrong with her, because there were too many things for him to hate. Impatiently she waited for an answer, all too aware that if he held his tongue, she would never know what he thought of her at all. Forcing his confession the way she had with the farmer was a tempting solution, but it felt like a betrayal, and she wasn't sure it would work.

He rubbed his forehead, his eyes still downcast. "No. No, Antea, that's not how I think of you."

Antea relaxed slightly. "Okay. These new powers say that's true, which is nice. They don't tell me what you do think of me, which is annoying."

Jedan's shoulders relaxed, too, and he finally met her gaze with wary golden eyes. "Your powers may not be that specific."

"They told me the truth the farmer was lying about."

"Well, I wasn't lying, and perhaps you just need to practice."

"Lie to me about something, then."

For Stitches and Memories

@space-writes

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Tag list for everything

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Just chapters and snippets

@da-na-hae

[pacificwaternymph]

Okay, random thought about Joel from the superhero au.

His name is the Sculptor, and he has a cloning ability.

Taking that and running with it, I believe he has to have some sort of sculpting material on him at all times in order to make clones.

In order to create a clone, he has to pinch off a bit of said sculpting material, rub it between his fingers, and toss it in the air, and out pops another clone. When he's done with the clone, it will dissipate, and the whatever material he used will be hardened and unusable.

So like- clay is his go to, obviously. It doesn't matter what kind of clay it is tho. Air dray, polymer, oven bake, whatever, anything will do. He could even do it with model magic if he wanted to, although he prefers not to since it's not dramatic enough for him and all around kind of ridiculous.

He could also use stuff like granite, marble, and other types of stones used for carving statues, since that also falls within the realm of "sculptor," at least for these purposes. But that's a bit harder for him, and more inconvenient for him to get his hands on, so he doesn't usually.

I just wanted his gimmick to be a little more original than just cloning haha.

This is kind of inspired by Sun Wukong and his ability to make clones using his own hair, which he has to pluck and then blow on.

#superhero au #empires smp #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans

[kindheart525]

It had been almost a year since the Pie family patriarch Igneous Rock died, and to onlookers the rock farm had not changed at all. There was the same house, the same landscape, the same chores. Hardly any different from the colthood days of Igneous’ own predecessor, Feldspar Granite Pie.

But for young Mountain Peak, his whole world was transformed.

Working on the rock farm used to bring him such pride. It made him feel like he belonged, yet at the same time like he stood out with his work ethic. He thrived on the gentle encouragement of his grandfather, but now that was replaced by the harsh orders of his mother Limestone Pie.

“Everypony get moving! We’re already behind schedule, there will be NO fooling around!”

She barked at her family members like they were a bunch of couch potatoes, when in reality they were already working so hard. It seemed like she didn’t have a shred of praise for any of them.

Mounty didn’t understand what was going on with her, but he sure didn’t like it. He’d cried and mourned for his grandpa like anypony would, and so did his aunts—even Maud got a little misty-eyed. But he didn’t see Limestone shed a single tear, she just put on her father’s hat and took on his duties with double the vigor and almost none of the warmth.

The colt watched his Auntie Marble work at her task, hauling one of the boulders to the south field, while his little cousin Sandpiper pushed it from behind. The mare remained quiet and focused but he could tell she was struggling, that was an awfully heavy boulder. 

“Why aren’t you doing your chores?”

Limestone interrogated Mounty, who was taking too long for her liking to watch everypony else do their work.

“Sorry Mom! I’ll get right on to it! I was just thinkin’, ain’t there a faster way to get all those rocks out to the fields?”

He gestured towards his auntie.

“It looks awful hard, it might be easier if we had a conveyor belt.”

“Well, we don’t do easy on this farm.”

Limestone was snippy in her response.

“This is how we’ve always done it and it’s how we always will. Our way’s just fine, it builds character. Right Marble?”

She called out to her sister, who was starting to break a sweat from the effort. Marble didn’t look like she was having much fun at all, but when her eldest sister called for her affirmation, she obliged.

“Mmhm!”

“But—“

“No buts. Less thinking, more working.”

She forced a broom into Mounty’s hooves.

“You’re going to sweep the house for Grandma, and then you’ll do the dishes. Understood?”

“Yes, Mom.”

Not even the work was fun anymore, Mounty thought to himself as he went back to the house. Grandpa said he would be an asset to the farm but he sure didn’t feel like it right now, being at the bottom of the pebble stack. But even the little household chores were important, so he tried to take it in stride.

Still, he wondered if Mom missed Grandpa as much as he did.

~~~~~~~~~~

Previous: Sedimentary Next: Labradorite

Marble Pie’s cutie mark by Tralomine

#KindsArt #auraverse #the future’s foundation #mountain peak #limestone pie #marble pie #rosemary #sandpiper #rock farm #story piece #next generation #my little pony #mlp fim #mlp g4

[notmuchtoconceal]

On the multi-tiered dais where father sat, all was in order around him, save for where there was discord -- for around father, all was discord.

As the herdsmen could not maintain their offerings, nor the ritual purity of his martial sons, nor the contemplative awe of those scribes which troubled him, the order father maintained parted into strands of flux, and unjoined and rejoined according to the whims of sub-atomic fluctuations our instruments could not detect, but measure only in probabilities. 

A great bellow seized the room -- shaking it to its foundations. 

- Ah! I aint Columbo! Nuh-uh! I ain't a conveyor-belt douche-nozzle industrial showa fixture! I'm a good Christian Redfield. (Outta left field!) 

It was not father's voice, for he had taken to slumber upon his throne, a chocolate mousse sticky to his shorn cheeks, awash in nostalgic waves of static from a cathode ray cube of Midland Laurentian manufacture -- its primitive display screen subtly bulbous, so from some angles the image would seem to swell as though from a central porthole.

- I'm Columbine High School. I'm Columbus, Ohio. Why, I ain't Magenta, no-siree! Imma entire country of Colombia -- what's left of it anyway!

Cpt. Haruspex was on top of father with a reassuring pat -- whenever he carried his historical meditations into wakingness. 

- It's all right, dad! Nobody's going to ban Doom! Contemporaneously, it's considered a classic! They actually teach it in schools nowadays!

Glass rained down upon his throne, cutting him with frosted sugar.

The wedge of a beam of cast-iron flew across the hall and ricocheted off Cpt. Psychorrhagia's forehead, skidding across the tile into a buffet table manned by none but two wait staff.

He stood there -- a whiplash in his atlas vertebrae, slightly dazed. He was aware the vibrations had shifted the big ugly box on its pedestal -- a charming marble column inlaid with veins of amber and gold dust, whose hand-fissured cracks had sprouted countless buds of gelatin ivy grown from the matter of a thousand pulped honeycombs.

Cpt. Haruspex -- reassurances unceasing -- slid the utility proboscis from his belt, and pinched its neck 3/4ths from the top -- to distend the radial prongs from the node at the bulb of its vertical tip :-- his hand dropping another 3/8ths to twist a concealed dial and distend the membranes by stalks and stretches across the prongs -- creating an umbrella he held between him and the debris as he twirled. 

- You can play it usin nothin but another man's prostate! You can move me around the screen on your inner-eye by makin inputs with my butthole! Pretty as a picto! It's the wonders of technology, dad. 

Shards of glass shimmered in the dense, lacquered pitch of Cpt. Psychorrhagia's clumped and slickened mane.

The portal displayed two images simultaneously -- neither one program, nor the other -- and Cpt. Psychorrhagia twisted the breadth of him along the slender pivot of his waist -- glutes tightening on the final push forward off his boots -- so that he seemed to hang there, in suspended half-motion before you -- the heft of his granite ass – wet as greasy locks pressed against the sheen of his leather. He gripped with the stiffness of his heavy, powerful arms -- so powerful for such a young man -- those slender apparati so much like insect-antennae in wafts until the picture was clear, and with a smoothness similarly half-lubricated retracted his back -- to return to the noble solemnity of his watch -- his eyes always-present on father, glancing from time to time, over to you.

- Would you like to have a go at it right now, dad? You can bet your ass you can bet yours beat! Best off me bein a real rough customer! 

Cpt. Psychorrhax -- in the background -- had already fireman carried one of the injured waitstaff to safety -- and was now hobbling towards the medkit concealed inside an antique radiator with the other. 

The doors of the breakfasting hall, which father had dedicated to his morning leisure, swung open and from their oak-carved scenes of jasper-inlaid pastoral splendor, Cpt. Schreibermachen strolled forward with Cpts. Hlaford and Drythen in the rear -- and stating truthfully, it occurred only now what an odd twosome they must have been. For you had never seen either converse with one another -- only each with Cpt. Schreibermachen or with the other -- and you wondered, with a curiosity you felt alien to you -- the nature of their rapport while on patrol. What the three revealed to one another in the solitary tirades which came about henceforth in the explorations of their hidden talents.

- Splendid news, father!

Joey belted, as a cock would herald the dawn.

:-- We've received word from the grand anarchist council! 

The anarchists of your era -- were well-known for their penchant for publicly-and-outwardly-transacted central organization. 

 -- Their words, father -- are leaden with a certain flamboyance and falsity! There is much about them which is terrible, and much in their implications which is dread and stirring! They would doubtless mortify men of juvenile countenance, and send those bestial among us into fits of rage ;-– allow me to share a few of them with you now!

The words of the anarchists were fit for father's ear --

and so too for personal and public redaction. 

- Damn, Joey.

Cpt. Haruspex swung the umbrella now gently as the fan of a palm.

... Those anarchists sure do have a fancy prose style.

He whistled.

In awe of the beauty and terror of our adversaries.

... I don't think I've ever heard anyone make pronouncements quite that ungainly and dramatic before!

Cpt. Schreibermachen did not clear the air so much as crystallize.

- My being a literary scion in our homeland, Haruspex -- it would not be shocking to expect a few admirers amidst the ranks of our enemies. Poetry is, after all, the great unifier. Were our nation not already well-held in father's soft and pretty baker's hands, I would suggest after a libation and a few rounds of incense, intoxication by rule of a council of muses!

There was something about the golden hours of morning that made Joey seem even more blonde, brainless and vigorously Teutonic than the crisp, dry hues of the noon and after.     

- Scribbles? Scribbles, where'd you go?

Father didn't have his eyes in.

... I been lookin everywhere for you!

Father couldn't see shit when he don't have his eyes in.

... Scribbles? Scribbles, did you bring me my paper?

Joey received him graciously, having much left to deliver.

- Better, father! The hydra which constricts our country has rolled onto its back to expose many miles of its tract of neck! I beseech you, highest and most holy, that I your most gallant son should be best now beset upon this task! Trust in my faith to you, father! ;-- and I shall see our country prosper! I shall see you cherished by the distillations of later generations as not only a conqueror, a philosopher, a reconciler, a mystic, but a playboy, a showman and a boon to the arts! Hear my words, father! Do not strike at your son who prophesies when his every word foretells the shapes of the stars for you! You who are as the crown will shine as a crow in flight as I resculpt the veritable matter of our physiques from the cells up!

Cpt. Haruspex -- out of boredom perhaps -- continued to twirl his umbrella. Light from the membrane which enjoined the flaps streamed through the broken window and illuminated the cloudiness and imperfections of the material -- in their structures, they were as the honeycombs before they had been pulped -- the honied translucence of the leaves shuffling out cloudbursts back into kelpy mass

Cpt. Psychorrhax -- straightening his lapels -- stepped forward.

- May I approach, father?

- No.

- I speak on behalf of Cpt. Schreibermachen, sir. I have personally observed him in his preparations to grip this blight which rots our city-state by its root. He has collected, over the months between now and the last bombing -- which was not (as the odious free press which oppresses your reign reported) a bungled mismanagement of catastrophic negligence which claimed the lives of many comely and able-bodied men -- but a deliberate subversion of your will by hostile forces too alien and microbiological to be glimpsed by the naked eye.

- Whaddya you know? Why ain't Scribbles tellin me this?

- Cpt. Psychorrhax is my closest and most cherished attendant, father! As you yourself know well, the meager details and nuts and rods of the implementation -- the route tedium that comes with putting a plan into action -- these can become obscured from an aerial perspective, being tasks better-handled by those best-suited to crawl along the ground!

Cpt. Schreibermachen's hand -- which had been grasped firmly around Cpt. Psychorrhax's shoulder -- crept now downward, savoring each descent and taper of its journey across the stolid hull of his lats -- 

- That is correct, father!

(This was Psychorrhax talking now)

-- and lower still... down the small of his back --

… very much can pass for human error in the scheme of things :-- particularly in a structure as vast, ornate and precise as our ruling body.

-- where he caressed him by the back of palm --

... there can be equally little doubt, however -- that in a body as broad and yet of deceptively compacted strength as ours --

-- he came down with a smack to cup the pony-like swell of his ass.

… more than an atypical allotment of contaminants will well up! I have seen -- from Cpt. Schreibermachen's reports, no doubt --

-- his smile twists -- catlike.

... much evidence to suggest that many of the incidences of damage to supply lines and other infrastructural failures have been --

He cuts off a moan -- biting his lip.

... especially in an environment so gifted as to receive your rule -- calculated attempts by enemy forces -- less simple wear and tear from constant overuse and a history of negligence which spans backwards decades. No. It only takes a few rogue cells, father --

He gasps -- laughing now.

 -- to create a mass tumescent enough to strangle the organism whole!

Cpt Schreibermachen was laughing, too.

- Joey, don't fondle me in fronta dad -- bro

He sounded way less fuckin stupid when ya wanted to kick his ass.

... he's not gonna take me serious!

Joey was leaning in. Standing upright, he leaned in best.

- You want me to stop?

It wasn't a question. He weren't expecting an answer.

… lil bro?

Cpt. Psychorrhax ceased to breathe as he looked to him

… make me.

Joey knocked off Laika's cap . He had taken him beneath the back of his skull. Was devouring his face. Tasting. On his lips, and on his teeth -- the pungent spices of eggs and sausage -- coffee and the salted butter -- tasting so many amino acids on Laika's lips that were not his own -- and yet which would inevitably become ; -- and Laika looked to him, nearly limp -- that stupid look of someone who had never lost it all, and could expect much, in turn-- lips quivering as he was wolfy and sheepish.

Brux ... continued to twirl.

- No, no -- I think Laik might be onto somethin, dad -- y'know. Literate men -- they're dangerous. They get heads full of ideas. They go around -- given their ideas to other people. Soon people're out -- readin books. Lookin at other people with crazy fancies. Not doin any work. Maybe they're all readin the same book -- who knows? Maybe it's a real popular book! Maybe they wanna go around bullyin ya cause ya don't read their favorite book. They talk about the characters -- y'know. Ya don't know who they are. They use the stories -- as reference points -- like you should know. Gosh, mates -- what's even worse is when there's two people livin in the same area, and they each got their own popular book -- they never get along! All they wanna do is hound ya! They wanna know which book it is ya like more, and don't accept it none when ya say ya ain't read any book -- whaddya mean ya ain't read both their books? Whaddya mean ya haven't picked a favorite (Even fuckin stupider when both their books are by the same author, and it's somethin goofier like... I dunno. The editor or the translator or the commentor or somethin is different, and sometimes it's just the rhymes are different, or maybe there's not one or none, but sometimes it's like... wow, we readin the same story, the same characters? We gettin into some complicated shit, and you're actin like I gotta have my mind made up now. Join your club. Be on your team. Say the exact same magic words when we sit down to try'n have a dinner without killin each other ;-- Holy shit. You book people, I swear!) Like, what's the goddamn matter? I'm sure ya both got great books -- basically I've heard all the stories in em already, been talkin to so many people -- whaddya want me to do, quote it at ya? Make ya feel like we had the same experience cause we stared at the same page? Mate, why don't ya invite me back to your place? We'll read your book -- you can read it to me! We'll get some wine -- sounds sensual. Why can't that be how ya do it, mates? Why can't ya just sit down and read your books to each other instead of tryin to kill each other all the time, huh? What'd those books have to say to make you act this way, goddamn.

Cpt. Psychorrhax ;-- in the intervening moments --; had found himself once more wholly vertical. 

Father meanwhile ... had stopped paying attention.

- All right, kid. Give ya a shot.

He looked first from his nails. Then back to Joey.

... Just don't do anything too crazy. 

Cpt. Schreibermachen ...--... bowed his head.

- I promise, father --...-- to surpass every example you have set for me.

( o )

Joey took to the square – and fired his pistol at each malfunctioning light fixture so that upon the crowds a spring rain fell one day, at the points in the interwoven lattice where heat met once more the dry brown leaves. 

 - ANARCHISTS, ANARCHISTS COME OUT!

Windows caked with grime collapsed into the streets. There, sticky floors knew once more light from out the dinge of an ever-unending half-day.

- I WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK WITH YOU ABOUT THE LOGISTICS OF TRANSITIONING INTO A STATELESS SOCIETY 

The conglomerated structures which were the outflow of State Finance into the ventricles of the Imperial Palace bore the marks of Joey's wrath.

For you could see plainly the fine utility of non-contradiction which composed his thought – for to attack our allies so brazenly, no doubt – aside from further concretizing the power and influence of the Guard – would agitate any bacterial elements which had penetrated into the insulated body – inducing a heave, the channels of which might flow into the more open cesspits of Free Thought you had less cause to attack openly, for there would be more just cause for later retaliation.

– STATE AUTOPHAGY NOW

( o )

( o )

STATE AUTOPHAGY NOW

#STATE AUTOPHAGY NOW #*STATE AUTOPHAGY NOW*

[ogsherlockholmes]

16th October

I’m not even going to bother writing an introduction but today’s villain (yes, definitely villain) is Charles Augustus Milverton. 

Pretty much everyone knows him, but for background he’s a blackmailer who ends up getting shot by an unknown woman (love her) at the end of the story. Instead of boring you by writing my random opinions and criticisms, I’m going to just insert a load of quotes and let Sherlock and Watson do the job for me. Also, the times when ACD built detailed characters, he really went for it and it’s enjoyable to read.

As Holmes turned up the lamp the light fell upon a card on the table. He glanced at it, and then, with an ejaculation of disgust, threw it on the floor. I picked it up and read:— Charles Augustus Milverton, Appledore Towers, Hampstead. Agent. “Who is he?” I asked. “The worst man in London,”

“He is the king of all the blackmailers. Heaven help the man, and still more the woman, whose secret and reputation come into the power of Milverton. With a smiling face and a heart of marble he will squeeze and squeeze until he has drained them dry. The fellow is a genius in his way, and would have made his mark in some more savoury trade. His method is as follows: He allows it to be known that he is prepared to pay very high sums for letters which compromise people of wealth or position... I happen to know that he paid seven hundred pounds to a footman for a note two lines in length, and that the ruin of a noble family was the result. Everything which is in the market goes to Milverton, and there are hundreds in this great city who turn white at his name. No one knows where his grip may fall, for he is far too rich and far too cunning to work from hand to mouth. He will hold a card back for years in order to play it at the moment when the stake is best worth winning. I have said that he is the worst man in London, and I would ask you how could one compare the ruffian who in hot blood bludgeons his mate with this man, who methodically and at his leisure tortures the soul and wrings the nerves in order to add to his already swollen money-bags?” I had seldom heard my friend speak with such intensity of feeling. “But surely,” said I, “the fellow must be within the grasp of the law?” “Technically, no doubt, but practically not. What would it profit a woman, for example, to get him a few months’ imprisonment if her own ruin must immediately follow? His victims dare not hit back. If ever he blackmailed an innocent person, then, indeed, we should have him; but he is as cunning as the Evil One. No, no; we must find other ways to fight him.”

Charles Augustus Milverton was a man of fifty, with a large, intellectual head, a round, plump, hairless face, a perpetual frozen smile, and two keen grey eyes, which gleamed brightly from behind broad, golden-rimmed glasses. There was something of Mr. Pickwick’s benevolence in his appearance, marred only by the insincerity of the fixed smile and by the hard glitter of those restless and penetrating eyes. His voice was as smooth and suave as his countenance, as he advanced with a plump little hand extended, murmuring his regret for having missed us at his first visit. Holmes disregarded the outstretched hand and looked at him with a face of granite. Milverton’s smile broadened; he shrugged his shoulders, removed his overcoat, folded it with great deliberation over the back of a chair, and then took a seat.

His insufferable smile was more complacent than ever.

[Milverton speaking] “Now, you remember the sudden end of the engagement between the Honourable Miss Miles and Colonel Dorking? Only two days before the wedding there was a paragraph in the Morning Post to say that it was all off. And why? It is almost incredible, but the absurd sum of twelve hundred pounds would have settled the whole question. Is it not pitiful?”

[Milverton speaking]  “I assure you that I am armed to the teeth, and I am perfectly prepared to use my weapons, knowing that the law will support me.”

With bow, a smile, and a twinkle Milverton was out of the room, 

“It is I,” she [unknown woman, my favourite person] said; “the woman whose life you have ruined.” Milverton laughed, but fear vibrated in his voice. “You were so very obstinate,” said he. “Why did you drive me to such extremities? I assure you I wouldn’t hurt a fly of my own accord, but every man has his business, and what was I to do? I put the price well within your means. You would not pay.” “So you sent the letters to my husband, and he... broke his gallant heart and died. You remember that last night when I came through that door I begged and prayed you for mercy, and you laughed in my face as you are trying to laugh now, only your coward heart cannot keep your lips from twitching? Yes, you never thought to see me here again, but it was that night which taught me how I could meet you face to face, and alone...” “Don’t imagine that you can bully me,” said he, rising to his feet. “I have only to raise my voice, and I could call my servants and have you arrested. But I will make allowance for your natural anger. Leave the room at once as you came, and I will say no more.” The woman stood with her hand buried in her bosom, and the same deadly smile on her thin lips. “You will ruin no more lives as you ruined mine. You will wring no more hearts as you wrung mine. I will free the world of a poisonous thing. Take that, you hound, and that!—and that!—and that!” She had drawn a little, gleaming revolver, and emptied barrel after barrel into Milverton’s body... Then he staggered to his feet, received another shot, and rolled upon the floor. “You’ve done me,” he cried, and lay still. The woman looked at him intently and ground her heel into his upturned face. 

Fortunately, the woman gets away, and she makes sure that Milverton doesn’t.

#can you tell i'm being lazy today #but i do love these quotes #and this story #but not charles augustus milverton #hate him #charles augustus milverton #Sherlock Holmes #acd books #ACD #acd canon

[drewismail58]

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#Kitchen Countertops. kitchen granite countertop tyler tx

[neurodiversenerd]

I will now recite the rocks in alphabetical order:

adamellite

amphibolite

andesite

anorthosite

anthracite

appinite

aphanite

arenite

argillite

arkose

basalt

basanite

blueschist 

biomicrite

biosparite

boundstone

breccia

carbonatite

cataclasite

chalk

chert

claystone

clinopyroxenite

coal

conglomerate 

coquina

dacite

diamictite

diatomite

diorite

dolomite 

dunite

eclogite

essexite

evaporite

flint

foidite

gabbro

gabbronorite

gneiss

gossan

granite

granodiorite 

granophyre

granulite

graywacke

gritstone

greensand

greenschist

harzburgite

hornblendite

hornfel

hyaloclastite

icelandite

ignimbrite

ijolite

itacolumite

jadeitite

jasperoid

jaspillite

kenyte

kimberlite

komatiite

lamproite

lamprophyre

larvikite

laterite

latite

lherzolite

lignite

limestone

litchfieldite

litharenite

llanite

luxullianite

mangerite

marble

marl

metapelite

metapsammite

migmatite

minette

monzodiorite

monzogranite

monzonite

mudstone

mylonite

nepheline syenite

nephelinite

norite

novaculite

obsidian

oil shale

oolite

pantellerite

pegmatite

peridotite

phonolite

picrite

porphyry

phyllite

pseudotachylite

pumice

pyrolite

pyroxenite

quartzarenite

quartzite

rhyolite

sandstone

schist

scoria

shale

siltstone

serpentinite

shonkinite

skarn

slate

suevite

soapstone

syenite

syenogranite

taconite

tephrite

teschenite

theralite

tholeiite

tonalite

trachyte

travertine

tuff

turbidite

urtite

variolite

wackestone

websterite

wehrlite

whiteschist

xenolith

[addamatic]

To My Friend Who Is Hurting

If I visited you right now

I would not say a word

I would confuse the TSA agents

By filling my suitcase

With soil and dead redwood needles

And chunks of granite

And when we met

I would hand you

A sturdy piece of granite

Straight from the Sierras

But I would not talk

I would not type

I would not say a word

I would find a place

By the side of the road

Full of rocks and debris

I would sit with my legs

Splayed apart like a W

And arrange the rocks

On the sides of my knees

And stack them

In the perfect order

And then I would arrange more rocks

In front of me

And you would be there

And we would start handing rocks

Back and forth to each other

Trusting each other

To put them in the right arrangement

And if any cats came by

We might photograph them

Or sniff their noses

(If they allowed us the courtesy)

And always respect

Their fundamental catness

I would have bought you

A bag of blue marbles

Somewhere along the way

And I would hand you the bag

And look away

As the sky turned to twilight

And perfectly matched

The blue of the marbles

And I would never speak

And I would never type

And I would never say a word

You speak my language

Do you know how rare that is?

For anyone who speaks my language

And does it so well

I would travel to the ends of the earth

With a suitcase full of soil and granite

And spend the whole day

And never have to type

Not a single word

I would stand outside your borders

With rocks in my hands

And you would stand outside my borders

With rocks in your hands

And somehow

The rocks would exchange hands

And somehow

We would build

A sculpture of rocks

In between us

That said everything

That no word

Ever could

If you wanted

I would cover you in rocks

As you lay in the dirt

So that you could feel

The rocks weighting you down

Tying you back to the earth

Under its protection

Away from the things

That are hurting you

But only if you wanted

These are the languages
I know how to speak best:

I speak Rock

I speak Tree

I speak Redwood Sorrel

I speak Soil

I speak Lichen

I speak Moss

I speak Dirt

I speak Mud

I speak Water-and-Earth

I speak Creek

I speak Fire

I speak Autistic (some dialects)

I will speak any of these languages

And more that I have not named

If any of them

Will make you feel better

I may not always be a good friend

I may not always remember you exist

I may go months forgetting about you

But when I remember

I will do anything

If it will make you feel better

What I lack in memory

I make up for in loyalty and love

I can’t guarantee that I will always be there

But I can guarantee that when I am there

I will be there — all the way there

And I will be there for you

To the best of my ability

Because that is what being a friend is about

And I will not speak

I will not type

I will not utter a single word

Through a keyboard

Or a PECS symbol

Or anything else

You don’t need more words right now

You need experiences

You need ties to the sensory world

You need rocks, lots of rocks

You need friends who don’t condescend

You need to see cats

You need people who speak your language

We can hand each other rocks

I can help you arrange them

In a style that blends both of ours

And shows

To anyone with eyes to see

(Which is almost nobody, mind you)

That we are friends

That we have collaborated

That the work is a blend of both of us

And that is our language

For any bystanders

Who may be confused

Reading a poem

About the language of rocks

As spoken by
Two autistic people

Each rock that we arrange

Has a place, and a meaning

We know these rocks inside out
W

e know where the rocks want to be

And we put them there

It becomes a collaboration

Between you

Between me

Between the rocks

Between the ground

And in the end

It is more than it was

In the beginning

After we are gone from that place

Some people will see a bunch of rocks

Some people will see art

Some people will see sculpture

A very few people will see

Two friends

Collaborating with rocks and the earth

To show all the connections

We can’t show to others

If they don’t speak Rock

And I would not speak

And I would not type

And I would not use picture symbols

And I would not use sign language

And I would not use words

And I would not use ideas

But exchanging rocks

And making rock piles

Would tell us each

More about the other
Than any words

But I can’t fly

And I don’t have enough granite

For my suitcase

And all of this

Is just a dream

Of what I would do for you

If I could

So I have to type

I have to paint a picture
Using words

To show you what I would do

If I only could

To show you that I care

About your happiness

To show you that

I can speak Autispeak

When I need to

And most of all

To give you a break

From all that is harming you

So that when you face it again

You will face it with renewed energy

Renewed resolve

To face it in whatever way you want to

Not just the way they corral you in

I would give you lapis lazuli

And tiger’s eye

And black tourmaline

And moss agate

And amber

And granite

Rocks in your pocket

And rocks in your hand

Will tell you more about

Your place in the world

Than any group of people

Will ever be able to tell you

Rocks in your pocket

And rocks in your hand

Will dance with you

And sing to you

In words only you can hear

They will give you strength

That only rocks can give

Remember to listen

Hear them singing

To the rocks in the ground

And the sand that once was rocks

They sing of things

That only rocks know

And when you face the people

Who condescend to you

Even about the rocks

Who see you as an adult-size child

The rocks in the pocket

Will weigh you down

So the people can’t push you up

Into the air

Without your permission

I can’t give you rocks

I can’t make rock sculptures with you

I can’t sit in the dirt by the side of the road

And find rocks everyone has forgotten

And stack them in towers on my knees

These are things I can’t do with you

But I want to

And that should count for something

I hope it’s enough

Even if just barely enough

For you to know

I want to do these things

I want to speak our mutual autistic languages

I want to leave words behind

Just for a time

I want to show you

What can be possible

And that is what I would do

If I could do it

But maybe just writing about it

Will have to be enough

And most of all
I want to create a sanctuary

Where you don’t have to talk

Unless you want

And you don’t have to let anyone in

Unless you want

And you can take the love of our friendship

Back out into the world

With the rocks in your pockets

And the rocks in your hands

And know that the rocks

Will love you

And protect you

In the way only rocks know how

Mel Baggs

#actuallyautistic #actually autistic #mel baggs

[osameowdazai]

What do you see? -The whole town's in there. -I now pronounce you husband and wife, -They're at the altar. -king and queen. -Mother Fletcher! He already said it. -Oh, for the love of Pete! {Grunts} -I object! -Shrek? {Gasps} -Oh, now what does he want? -Hi, everyone. Havin' a good time, are ya? I love DuLoc, first at all. Very clean. -What are you doing here? -Really, it's rude enough being alive when no one wants you, but showing up uninvited to a wedding - - -Fiona! I need to talk to you. -Oh, now you wanna talk? It's a little late for that, so if you'll excuse me - - -But you can't marry him. -And why not? -Because- - Because he's just marring you so he can be king. -Outrageous! Fiona, don't listen to him. -He's not your true love. -And what do you know about true love? -Well, I - - Uh - - I mean - - -Oh, this is precious. The orge has fallen in love with the princess! Oh, good Lord. {Crowd laughting} -An orge and a princess! -Shrek, is this true? -Who cares? It's preposterous! Fiona, my love, we're but a kiss away from our "happily ever after." Now kiss me! Mmmmm! -"By night one way, by day another." I wanted to show you before. {Whimpers} {Crown gasping} -Well, uh, that explains a lot. -Ugh! It's disgusting! Guards! Guards! I order you to get that out of my sight now! Get them! Get them both! -No, no! -Shrek! -This hocus-pocus alters nothing. This marriage is binding, and that makes me king! See? See? -No, let go of me! Shrek! -No! -Don't just stand there, you morons. -Get out of my way! Fiona! Arrgh! -I'll make you regret the day we met. I'll see you drawn and quartered! -You'll beg for death to save you! -No, Shrek! -And as for you, my wife, -Fiona! -I'll have you locked back in that tower for the rest of your days! -I'm king! {Whistles} -I will have order! I will have perfection! I will have - - Aaaah! -Aah! -All right. Nobody move. I got a dragon here, and I'm not afraid to use it. {Roars} -I'm a donkey on the edge! {Belches} -Celebrity marriages. They never last, do they? {Cheering} -Go ahead, Shrek. -Uh, Fiona? -Yes, Shrek? -I - - I love you. -Really? -Really, really. - I love you too. -Aawww! -"Until you find true love's first kiss and then take love's true form." -"Take love's true form. Take love's true form." -Fiona? Fiona. Are you all right? -Well, yes. But I don't understand. I'm supposed to be beautiful. -But you ARE beautiful. {Chuckles} -I was hoping this would be a happy ending. I thought love was only true in fairy tales Oy! Meant for someone else but not for me Love was out to get me That's the way it seemed Disappointment haunted all my dreams And then I saw her face Now I'm a believer and not a trace Of doubt in my mind I'm in love Ooh-aah I'm a believer I couldn't leave her If I tried -God bless us, every one. Come on, y'all! Then I saw her face Ha-ha Now I'm a believer Listen! Not a trace Of doubt in my mind I'm in love Ooh-aah I'm a believer I couldn't leave her if I tried -Ooh! -Uh! Then I saw her face Now I'm a believer Hey! Not a trace Uhh! Yeah. Of doubt in my mind -One more time! I'm in love I'm a believer Come on! I believe, I believe, I believe, I believe, I believe, I believe, I believe, I believe, I believe, hey Y'all sing it with me! I Believe I believe People in the back! I believe I'm a believer I believe I believe I believe I believe {Hysterical laughing} -Oh, that's funny. Oh. Oh. -I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I believe in self-assertion Destiny or a slight diversion Now it seems I've got my head on straight I'm a freak an apparition Seems I've made the right decision To try to turn back now it might be too late Now I want to stay home today Don't wanna go out If anyone comes to play

Shirase will be the next one cause first

I used to work for a stone warehouse (as an administrative assistant) and we'd get the granite and marble slabs delivered in these shipping containers

But because they spent so long on ships they'd get all wet and shit on the way to us and would sometimes just be FULL of mold. One of the warehouse guys got really sick from it

Anyway, I hope he scrubbed that thing thoroughly but also

I hate even remembering he was living in this thing fdjhsdgg Dazai was going through it

#remnants of the sol kaven war of 2023! #mail! #kaven! #there's only one more left after this

[nikkeisimmer]

How Women Drive Men Absolutely Bananas...

The Chikamori Legacy (Excerpt)

Yes, I'm reshooting the chapters of the Legacy since I changed Haruo's face.

As they started bringing boxes in, River asked, “so…you’re practically a young adult.” She smirked; in her mind, she had forgiven him about Bebe. “So any plans on what you intend to do with yourself?

“No idea….Grandma did tell me that she would like me to try to go to university if I could. And part of me wants to since Grandpa sacrificed for me n’ my….mother.” He spat the last word out as if it was something distasteful.

“But I’m all school’d out. I just kinda wanna relax and do my own thing for a year. Maybe take two years off to really get an idea of what I wanna do.”

He dumped his box of clothes on the bed. And, I got bills coming so I have to have money for that. So maybe work for a year and see what happens. You got hundred twelve till grad, right?”

“Yeah,” River responded.

Idly brushing away some lint that had fallen onto his pant-leg, Haruo commented, “Might meet someone you like good enough to go to university with him or maybe you might meet someone at UBC that you fit with.”

“Yeah, maybe….” River sounded subdued. Does he only think of me as a little sister type of friend? “What if I already think I’ve found the guy I want to be with?” She asked.

Haruo raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” He looked at her…”Well, then, I guess congratulations are in order.”

OMG, you dolt! She thought to herself with a huff of aggravation. She shook her head. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“What?” Haruo just sounded irritated as hell. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It means, I don’t want anyone else…”.

Haruo looked completely bewildered. First she said she had someone else that she was interested in and then she said that he didn’t understand what she meant. He thought that it had been clear enough to him. And then the I don’t want anyone else. That just confused the ever-loving daylights out of him. He raised an eyebrow in question.

“But…I thought…you had someone…and…well…in that case…you shouldn’t want anyone else….right!”

River almost let out a scream of frustration…she wasn’t sure how to gauge his reaction. Was he inexplicably dense or was he just toying with her and did she really want to consider a serious relationship with someone with the cognition abilities of a piece of granite? Aggravation wasn’t the word for this. Did she have to do this the caveman way to make him understand just exactly what she meant.

Haruo continued to stand there puzzled at why River looked like she was going to take a baseball bat and brain him. And that was frankly annoying to say the least. Do women know how to just come out and say what the hell they mean instead of playing word games and driving him completely out of his ever-lovin’ mind? Because he was just about to scatter his marbles all over the floor in another minute if something didn’t start making sense soon. After that to-do with his mother, he was plumb out of patience.

#sims 3 #sims 3 gameplay #river mcirish #ts3 #sims 3 storytelling #river and haruo #sims 3 legacy #haruo chikamori #The Chikamori Legacy #ts3 legacy #ts3 stories #ts3 screenshots #ts3 simblr #ts3 gameplay #ts3 simmer #the sims 3 #sims 3 simblr

[shahrourmarble]

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