#shart is also my best friend but in a different way (i like to think her and my character just bonded really hard over the course of the st | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jojosbizarreblog · 4 years

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Hi! I don't know if you're taking requests, but if you are, I was wondering if I could get a small scenario set during part 4, where the Reader was a crusader and Jotaro needs her to help to catch Kira. But the reader herself is done with stands and all that jazz so she flat out refuses (and of course she ends up getting convinced to help!). Sorry if this is too specific... I like to go into detail with my requests ❤️

(Don’t apologize! It actually helps me out a lot when it goes in depth like this, so thank you! Hope you like it!)

(P. S. Zinnia flowers have a purpose in the title, trust me)

(P. P. S. It’s long. It’s angsty. Buckle up)

Zinnia Blossoms in Full Bloom (Jotaro x reader)

You opened up a little shop to get away from your past. Unfortunately it comes back to you through the visit of an old friend.

Opening the little flower shop outside of Morioh was arguably one of the best things that you’ve done. It was good to leave the old things behind, leaving behind the oozing monsters that threatened to drag you down and envelop you whole. Of course, you still kept in contact with some of your remaining friends, but it was difficult with them all over the globe.

‘Fire Cherry Flowers’ was the name of the little shop, in honor of the ones who have passed. It was your way of remembering their life while you tried to forget the pain that came with their memories. Business was slow when you first opened but eventually, the shop gained popularity, and now you had no trouble keeping yourself busy.

You were getting ready to close up shop for the day, cleaning up the fallen flowers on the ground behind the counter, when the bell to the shop rang behind you. “In a moment!” You called. Straightening up, you started turning to the person. “I’m about to close up for the day, but what do you nee—” You froze as your eyes made contact with familiar ocean blue ones.

“(Y/n),” Jotaro said. He still looked as handsome as ever, decked out in a long white coat and matching pants, almost like what he wore ten years ago. You couldn’t help but remember all those nights spent with the others, long lost memories.

You swallowed thickly. “Jotaro. What brings you here?”

“I need your help.”

“How about we sit down for some tea,” you said. “I’m closing up the shop, so we can sit in the backroom and you can tell me what’s going on.” You two parted on good terms all those years ago. He left Morioh to pursue his dreams of becoming a marine biologist while you stayed near to apprentice under a skilled gardener, learning about the nuances of plants.

He nodded and hovered in a corner of the shop as you bustled around, locking doors and turning off lights. You beckoned him to your back room, where a little stove accompanied by a table and chairs occupied the area. Tea was made in a few short minutes and you sat down across from him, setting down two cups.

“What brings you here?” You asked him, nursing the warm cup between your hands.

Jotaro sighed and took a sip of his tea. “There have been murder cases popping up around Morioh lately.”

You nodded. “That’s right... I overheard it in the news. What has that got to do with you needing my help anyway?”

“We believe it’s the work of a Stand user.”

Frowning, you told him, “Jotaro, you can’t be serious. I told you guys that I’m done with all that Stand business.”

“I know. I’m working with a few others, but it’s better to have more seasoned people to help us with this.”

You slammed the cup down, face shadowed by your hair. “I can’t! Stands have caused me nothing but pain! I’m done with that Jotaro, that life is over for me.”

“Please,” Jotaro said. “I’m begging you, (y/n). I know it hurts, I feel it too. I spend nights remembering their deaths, it hurts so damn much.”

You paused as a lone tear trickled down his face. Jotaro never talked about his feelings and showed them even less. Even when they were close to bursting. He must’ve really been desperate. You sighed and blinked away your own tears. “Let me think about it,” you said, even though you knew what your answer was. Scribbling down your address, you handed it to him and said, “Come back tomorrow.”

Jotaro nodded and set the teacup down. You stood there alone in the backroom as he left. The chime of the bell was the only thing heard before the silence overtook your shop.

Well, time to get ready for tomorrow. Who knew what laid ahead.

The car rumbled as you stared out the windows at the familiar sights that passed you. Buildings that were still so similar despite the ten-year difference.

The old cream parlor. Whose maraschino cherries were something Noriaki often gushed about

That ramen shop that had great sushi. Something Avdol would’ve loved. Perhaps even Iggy too.

Next to you, Jotaro was focused on the road. You couldn’t help but scan his features over. Soft dark hair, a sharp jawline, striking aquamarine eyes. Perhaps Noriaki was right when he told you that you had a crush on Jotaro. You’d thought the feelings would have been gone by now, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, you supposed.

His phone rang, somewhere in his coat’s pocket, and Jotaro fumbled to take it out and answer it. “Dr. Kujo speaking,” he said. You watched as Jotaro shrank back from the multiple loud voices screeching over the speaker. “Yare yare daze, I leave you three alone for one moment, and trouble’s already found you. I’m only a few minutes away so try not to burn down my hotel room.”

Jotaro sighed as he hung up, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. You raise an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “People you working with?” You asked.

“You could say that. I’m more of a babysitter for them though.”

You shook your head. What the hell did you get dragged into now?

The car rolled to a stop in front of a hotel. “We’re here, let’s go.”

You grabbed your bag and followed Jotaro as he briskly walked through the lobby and up the stairs, questions in your head. What sort of people was Jotaro working with? Detectives? Criminal investigators?

Your expectations were quickly dashed when he opened the door to three teenagers. Two of them were sporting pompadours, though one had quite a sizable one. Both were screaming their heads off, trying to yank a jar off of the one with a smaller pompadour. The last one, who was comically short, was sitting in the hotel’s armchair, watching the chaos in front of him.

None of them heard you two enter, too stuck up in their troubles. They didn’t notice the dangerous aura Jotaro was giving off either. You looked at him and said, “Are you shitting me? Jotaro are these who you’re working with????”

The screaming stopped and all eyes zoned in on you. The previously screaming teens straightened up, hiding the jar behind their back. Jotaro gave a long-suffering sigh as he shut the door behind you two.

“Jotaro!” The one with the larger pompadour beamed. “Who’s this?”

“This is (y/n) (l/n). She’s a friend of mine and a former Crusader.”

You nodded at them. The shortest one stood up and walked to you, sticking out his hand. “My name is Koichi Hirose, nice to meet you.”

Taking his hand in yours you gave him a smile. “Nice to meet you too.”

The larger pompadour wearing teen pushed Koichi aside, grinning at you. “I’m Josuke Higashitaka, Jotaro’s uncle! That’s my friend Okuyasu Nijimura!”

You blanked. He looked seventeen at the oldest. How did he end up being Jotaro’s uncle? You squinted at him and then Jotaro, trying to pick out any similarities. “What the fuck happened when I was out?” You asked Jotaro.

“Joseph got busy,” was his reply.

Sighing you turned back to the teen and nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Josuke.”

Josuke brightened. “You said you were a former Crusader, right??? What was it like, traveling across Egypt???”

Oh god.

Nights under stars. Making fun of each other. Two limp objects and a canid body in Polnareff’s arms. A crumpled water tower.

You forced a smile to hide the inky blackness seeping through your heart. “It was hell and high heaven at the same time.”

Josuke frowned at the cryptic phrase but was stopped from asking any more questions when something shattered and Okuyasu screamed. You winced at the volume and wondered how Jotaro managed to work with them.

“Crazy Diamond!” Josuke yelled. A being appeared and you blanked.

His Stand...

Oh god oh god oh god.

You flinched as Jotaro’s hand came to rest upon your shoulder. He turned your attention away from whatever was happening with the teens. “Will you be alright?”

Swallowing thickly, you replied, “There’s... going to be some adjustments needed.”

He sighed a straightened up, walking to the now quieter teens and ushering them out the door. “Come back tomorrow,” he barked. “We’ll work on some more stuff next time.”

The door shut with a resounding slam, leaving peace and silence at last. You found yourself drawn to the balcony overlooking Morioh. Jotaro’s presence settled next to you and you two stared at the little town below.

“Josuke’s Stand...” you began tentatively.

From the corner of your vision, you could see Jotaro give a shart nod. “I know. I promise that it’s different from his.”

You nodded stiffly. “Alright.”

“Hey... do you want to go to that ice cream parlor we passed?”

Your heart clenched at the unexpected question. “The one that Noriaki swore up and down had the best maraschino cherries?”

There was the barest hint of a smile in Jotaro’s reply. “Yeah... we did promise to try it out when we got back. Never got around to it.”

“I’m in,” you agreed. “We do need to fulfill our promise after all.”

“Alright. We’ll head over there tomorrow, then we’ll get to work on the case.”

That was it for the conversation between you two as a breeze passed over the quiet bubble that had set in.

In that quiet, you couldn’t help but reminisce about those long gone.

[Zinnia is a symbol of endurance. It also symbolizes lasting friendships, goodness, and remembrance.]

#oh fuck oh god i’m crying #*ugly ass sobbing*#jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #jjba reader insert #jjba fanfic #jojo part 4 #diamond is unbreakable #kujo jotaro x reader #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jjba imagines #jojo’s bizarre adventure imagines #jotaro kujo #jotaro x y/n #my works #my writing compendium

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brownstonearmy · 4 years

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2020-09-25: Juiced! (Part 5)

August 7 (Friday midmorning)

After the events of the previous day, you'd think our lovely band of adventurers would catch a break. BUT YOU WOULD BE MISTAKEN! Messages, insights and calls to action proliferate throughout the party.

Lucky receives a letter from Miss Mavis asking for a favor:

"Lucky, can you and your friends help me find a crystalline energy amplifier? I need one for a restoration project. They're worth a hefty price, but I'll gladly reimburse if you find one."

Norm, meanwhile, has learned that Yance Elbereth is convalescing at SHART HQ. The time to strike against his assassination target is nigh!

Spleenifer has learned through meditation and spiritual attunement that the waterskin from the monk is a type of holy water and the decorative bowl is actually a bowl of Commanding Water Elementals. And on Spleenifer's first day of official work as Mayor Dunwall's assistant, she has been asked for her input how best to solicit donations to help the Mayor with reelection.

Q (going as Jay on this auspicious day) found a note under their door:

"From one bard to another, here's a piece of advice: never trust a Stout you can't drink. I have Stout problems of my own, if ever you want to meet for a pint at the usual bard hangouts. I'm easy to find, since the scales stand out. -Kadana Meristan"

Everyone splits up to start on their respective tasks, so let's follow one adventurer at a time and see where things lead!

Up first we have have Jay, and they strike out for the Juicy Lyre tavern to meet up with the mysterious author of the letter. Kadana, an attractive dragonborn, is nursing a pint while composing a song on the back of a playbill. After Jay takes a seat, she explains that Lawrence Stout was once her patron. But like Jay, she got into some hot water when things got a little too close between Kadana and Russell Stout. The younger Stout seems to have a habit of fraternizing with the arts (as the euphemism goes). But in Kadana's case, her arts funding got cut off as punishment.

Jay and Kadana muse for a bit on strategies to get back at Lawrence and/or Russell. The best way to strike back seems to be breaking up the Stout family businesses, but neither of them are quite sure how to go about doing that. Kadana excuses herself to attend to some other bardly matters, but it's clear that Kadana is playing this as a playful round of hard to get. Folks, we're seeing the beginnings of a beautiful friendship (and possible romance)!

But we must fade to black for now and pick up on Spleenifer's tale! She's back at the Mayoral Manor to discuss the upcoming election strategy. On the way over to the Mayor's place, she found a slightly-charred scrap of paper that probably fell out of someone's pocket during the events of last night. It reads: "You promised me I could use the ring to fix my problem. -Rooney"

Spleenifer stuffs the scrap in her pocket and focuses on the task at hand with the mayor. Since Zaribeth Quickfingers is mounting an unexpectedly strong campaign (though really, any campaign at all is probably unexpectedly strong against Dunwall), the incumbent mayor needs to take the special election preparations seriously. Spleenifer suggests mounting a spin campaign to solicit donations, but her methods are a bit... unorthodox:

"Make it say incontinent instead of incumbent!"

That'll surely take away from the discontent brewing about the mayor's presumed incompetence! What's a giant dung beetle to do? Approve the suggestion and blast it out across town, of course!

Now we switch POV to Lucky, who suggested at the start of the adventure that the party should investigate an unusual announcement in today's Brownstone Bugle where the Meyrick family was looking to hire someone to kidnap their daughter for ransom. But Lucky isn't abandoning Miss Mavis's task! In her words, she's gonna try to kill two stones with one bird.

Lucky is already familiar with crystalline energy amplifiers, and knows they can be found in certain naturally occurring crystal deposits. The catch is that only the biggest crystals (worth at least 1,000GP) can function as a proper amplifier, but she's got a lead on a potential source in a mine about 10 miles east of town. If Lucky can win the audition to kidnap the daughter, she could potentially stash her quarry in the mine while looking for crystals.

She knocks on the the door of the Meyrick estate, and the butler escorts her Mr. Meyrick's study. Mr. Meyrick is a skinny man with wild hair that is graying at the temples. If Gary Busey was a used car salesman and the characters knew what car salespeople were, that's what everyone would say the elder Meyrick looks like.

Mr. Meyrick asks Ms. Lucky Proudfoot what her plans for his daughter are, and she explains the plan. She also plans to scurry off to the mines in a mobile house on chicken legs for extra dramatic flair. The daughter can work in the mines hunting crystals while waiting for the ransom payment to arrive. Meyrick thinks this is an excellent plan and hires Lucky on the spot. He just needs some time to subdue his daughter before she'll be ready for the exchange. Come back later this evening, he says, and she'll be Lucky's problem for the next few hours.

Now's the perfect time to switch over to Norm, who's sneaking his way to where Yance is staying. The recently-concussed trader of illicit antiquities is laying on a cot staring at the ceiling. Norm applies some of the St. Ignatius's Re-Dead Juice to his dagger and moves in for the kill. But Yance rolls over just as Norm enters the room and makes eye contact.

All is not lost, though! Norm shifts into playing the part of an ally who is checking in on him after the concussion. "How many fingers am I holding up?" Norm asks. He goes through a series of simple tests and then "checks for bumps" on the back of Yance's head. That's when Norm makes a tiny nick at the base of Yance's hairline with his poison-coated dagger. Yance passes away seconds later, peacefully slumping back onto the cot.

Sounds of a loud scuffle erupt outside, and from Norm's vantage point, it appears to be a fight between five drunken sailors and a sober-seeming ship's officer. Despite being split up, the rest of the party is close enough to hear the sounds of the brawl and everyone converges on the scene.

Lucky triggers a wild surge and casts Suggestion on one of the sailors, telling him to "make love, not war." Every time she blinks, a duck appears nearby. The sailor under the influence of Lucky's Suggestion grabs a fellow sailor by the arms and pulls him over for a deep kiss. The sailor on the receiving end of the kiss is surprisingly receptive to the romantic gestures, and they stumble away from the fray to keep the passion burning.

Norm exits his building, dashing through alleyways so as to make it look as though he came from a completely different building. There's a drunken brawl and a separate manly make-out session and at least a dozen ducks by this point. What the heck is happening here?

Spleenifer, having been a sheltered woman of faith, has never seen men kiss before. She grabs a duck and announces to her newfound companion: "Let's watch together!" Regardless of the duck's opinion on the matter, it's along for the ride. The passionate pirates are flattered by Spleenifer's audience, but their ships don't really sail that way, if you catch their drift.

While all this chaos is unfolding, Lucky has a bit more fuel to add to the fire. She drops her suggestion and casts invisibility on two pirates and the officer. It's hard to fight when you can't see each other, right? Well, it does stop the fight for the most part, as the two invisible pirates stumble off to rob a bank with their newfound invisibility powers.

The remaining pirate is lifted up by an invisible force (spoiler: it's the captain) and slapped. Now the captain's visible again and orders him to return to the Rising Howl, their ship that is currently docked until the river rises high enough to let them sail. Spleenifer grabs another duck from the flock (now called Prongle), while still restraining the original duck (now named T'Pam) in her sturdy arms. She manages to coax them into pecking at each other like they're kissing.

Norm dashes over to where the sailors were fighting and is nearly overpowered by the stench of alcohol. He pulls out a match lights it to see just how much of a drunken cloud the sailors left behind. Lucky adds a little pizzazz to the situation with a little bit of flammable luck, and the cloud ignites in an impressive cloud of flame in the air that leads in the direction of the fleeing sailors. Jay leaps in front of the two kissing sailors to shield their love from the explosion.

Once things calm down (always only briefly in this town), the party swings by the general store for some pickaxes for their upcoming mining expedition. Not wanting T'Pam and Prongle to feel left out, Spleenifer fashions some miniature pickaxes out of twigs to give to the ducks. Lucky snags a caterpillar cocoon (foreshadowed magical purposes!) on the way to contact the lizardfolk to borrow their house.

At the Meyrick estate, Mr. Meyrick greets the party and directs them to a wagon containing a tied-up sleeping giantess (technically half-giantess, but still LORGE). Once their "hostage" is safely aboard the house, the party contemplates what to do.

"I've never done kidnapping before," asks Lucky "but is it reasonable to ask for her emancipation?" But that is soon answered once the giantess wakes up. Lucky is able to communicate with her, and learns that the giantess's name is Tina. She's well-spoken and her family loves her a lot. This whole kidnapping thing is a publicity stunt to get some sponsorship deals. The house gallops toward the mine, reaching the entrance after about 20 minutes.

Tina agrees to help the party mine for crystalline amplifiers and takes up a pickaxe along with the rest of the party. Lucky uses the cocoon to transform herself into an umber hulk with a sweet, sweet burrowing speed. But after some time has passed, a group of eight drunken brigands arrives at the mine's entrance to hide out.

Norm puts down his pickaxe and sneaks toward the boisterous brigands to assess the situation. One of the group has a rucksack full of books, while the rest carry sacks of more conventional treasure. As Norm listens in from the shadows, he learns that the treasure comes from their recent break-in of Salem's.

The sound of picks against stone catches the attention of the brigands, who drop their spoils and tread deeper into the tunnels. A massive chunk of crystal has just been unearthed, and it could function as a quality crystalline amplifier if it can be completely excavated. However, that's the time the drunkards show up. One of them makes obscene and probably physiologically incompatible advances at Tina and a fight soon breaks out.

Smites, spells, and sneak attacks smash into the metaphorically-smashed sailors. Lucky's burrowing triggers a small tunnel collapse, and her confusing gaze disorients even more of the sailors. Spleenifer smacks at the base of the crystal to uproot it before the tunnel collapses further, and soon the party emerges victorious.

Mr. Meyrick arrives to collect his daughter just as the last brigands flee into the night. He mentions that the sponsorship deal fell through, though he still brought the promised ransom. Maybe they'll be able to collaborate on another scheduled kidnapping in the future? Who knows!

The party searches through the stuff left behind by the brigands and finds wealth of many types. Material wealth in the form of gold and gems is most obvious here, but there is also informational wealth. Among the books that were stolen from Salem's is a copy of Zaribeth's accounting ledger. As in, the true version that depicts all the shady stuff going on with Zaribeth's businesses.

With that realization, the adventure concludes for the night and everyone advances to level 12. Stay tuned next time for more!

#Shits and Giggles #Dungeons and Dragons #Adventure Log #FishDavidson #Kidnapping

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bluebellss1 · 2 years

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Books that I wish I could get my money back for

((Tbh it’s true, you’re better off 🏴‍☠️🦜⚓️ing and then buying if you actually like the book. That way you’ll save so much money and you won’t have the negative energy of bad books/authors you don’t like polluting your shelves. ))

So anyway, the books I’m thinking of decluttering are: (contains spoilers)

🌳🏹🐺ACO/TAR: the main characters have become unbearably arrogant and hypocritical. Also the covers are very bright and noticeable and I kind of hate that they’re the first thing you see on my bookshelf. Like do you think people will see the books on my shelf and just immediately discredit me and think I have bad taste? Idk. I also feel like I can’t take selfies in front of my shelf because the ✨faerie p0rn books✨ are just too recognisable.

The only characters I like will never be treated the way they deserve, and once the author puts the spotlight on them she will inevitably ruin them for us anyway lmao. It’s hard to go on with a series when you hate almost the entire main cast. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, fuck the inner circle.

🌑☀️🦴the gri/sha trilogy: squandered my dreams of a dark/light romance, terrible MC with no character development. I’m just saying, if it had been written a little differently we could have had an awesome villain/hero couple.

Also the ending trope of women giving up their autonomy/power needs to go. I don’t care if it’s what she ‘wanted’, it just shows how little development she got bc she is fundamentally unchanged at the end from how she was in the first chapter.

The oppression of the gri/sha continues and Ali/na washes her hands clean of her gri/sha identity so she doesn’t have to deal with the issues/mistreatment of the gri/sha anymore. Yay??? What was the point of her powers if she didn’t want them and the world remained fundamentally unchanged? No wonder the powers-that-be snatched those chosen-one sun powers back at the end. ((I’m keeping six of crows though))

💀🐍kingdom of the w/icked: wtf even was this. The ‘prince of hell’ literally had no personality whatsoever. For a literal demon prince, he had the personality of a piece of cardboard. MC was also a useless dumbass and had no chemistry. The fanart is lying guys, this book is trash. The ‘big reveal’ sucked and was super underwhelming too. Crappy ending. ‘Demon prince’ my ass. He was a watered down generic YA ‘bad boy’.

📚🧪poi/son study: super let down by this one. Good start but sort of sharted itself out along the way. Love interest was lowkey spineless and boring, MC had no personality outside of being a victim of abuse.

I really hated that the love interest was such a damn bootlicker. He was powerful and all that, but you can’t just make a character powerful, y’know? Like make us believe it. He was so far up the dictator’s ass, even at the end. His love confession made me feel nothing too🤷‍♀️ And that’s how I know a romance flopped for me. If I’m just like ‘k.’ at the big moment then the author fucked up

The world/setting was also really weird and vague. It was like a dystopian fantasy historical dictatorship? It’s very vague and lacks a clear identity. It felt like a bunch of half-formed ideas slapped together. And mind control chocolate? Really? That was the best thing the author could come up with?

🦷🦴and daughter of sm/oke and b/one: awesome concept, terrible execution. The romance was very ‘twi/light’ (romance is just them constantly gawking at and mooning over each other) but with none of the nostalgic charm that twi/light has. I also wasn’t a fan of the reincarnated lover trope, hated the flashbacks, and yeah. I just wasn’t invested in the romance, which was such a shame. The chimera and magic were cool but not enough to carry such a crappy romance and lame recycle-a-bitch trope.

Also her human life and friends were very cringey and pretentious. The author tried wayyy too hard to make them hip and funny imo

And last but also the one I’m most unsure about:

🪞📚Mem/ory of Babel and The Storm of Echo/es (last two books in the mirror visitor quartet):

It would be really weird to dump half the series and have an incomplete set. But I was so let down by the last two instalments (especially the last one tbh), and they are so tonally different and had such a dramatic dip in quality that it was like they were from a different series. The supporting cast and awesome setting/atmosphere? Gone. Poof. Here’s 500 pages of repetitive, whack-ass pseudo-science explanations that the author pulled out of her ass as she wrote it.

The issue here is that I was an IDIOT that loved the first two books and trusted Dabos enough that I bought the hardcovers. So I can’t just throw them away but I also hate looking at the last two books. I don’t think I’ll feel bad having an incomplete series because as far as I’m concerned it ended with Clairdelune anyway. The endings are identical (SPOILER A cliffhanger ending with Thorn and Ophelia separated) We have to imagine our own ending either way so it’s not even fundamentally different🧍‍♀️

#personal

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mutinouscaptain · 6 years

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@gameunjang / @yeomrah / @kkamakwi → positivity for the first person you remember shipping with, in general or on this muse.

i’m about to write a small book about this nerd so get ready.

my first ship partner in general is my Main Meme and one of my oldest writing partners, kaitlyn. we first met over a decade ago on a kïngdom hėarts / organizātion xiii-based rp forum where we were both mods and self-proclaimed elitists. she wrote axėl and I wrote larxėne, and of course my feeble mind only shipped marlūxia / larxėne at the time and had not considered All Ship Possibilities, so she opened my eyes to the beauty of larxėl and tbh the rest is history. it was a great ship, I loved writing it with her both on the forum and privately. over the course of the 900 years that we’ve been friends, i’ve written other ships with her as well, most notably / presently with her frėyja and óðinn over on lōki. she was also the first, and i think only person that i ever wrote out a sibling relationship with, which was awesome as well.

now it’s time to PREPARE FOR THE SAP because naturally with a bff / rp partner that’s been so important to me both during my rp career and in my actual, non-internet life, putting some mushy stuff in here is extremely necessary.

kaitlyn is truly an inspiration when it comes to writing, not only because she manages to weave words together in a way that’s enjoyable, descriptive, and easy to follow, but because she’s immensely dedicated to portraying the characters that she takes on as best and as factually as she possibly can, whether they’re canon or oc. when she takes interest in something new, her quest for the cold hard facts about that character / mythology / concept, even when resources are limited, is relentless ( in the good way! ). she isn’t satisfied until she knows her characters and their stories inside and out, and then some, and doesn’t tolerate them being disrespected or misinterpreted. she values their integrity, and i think that’s really badass.

as a writing partner, she’s one of the easiest people to work with when it comes to plotting, discussing headcanons, ships, or what have you. i’m sure that our long af friendship has something to do with it, but there isn’t another person on this planet that i feel so comfortable bouncing au and plot ideas off of. we can have a plot thrown together in literal seconds, maybe not always from start to finish, but it’s always exciting either way. the amount of off-tumblr writing that we do is insane because she’s up for just about everything you throw at her. if you want a partner who can essentially pull inspiration from anything and make it work to fit your characters’ dynamic while simultaneously discussing how we all live in a simulation, kaitlyn is the one for you.

on to the personal friendship stuff: not only is she dedicated to her characters, but she’s dedicated to her friends, and there’s never a dull moment. when you find a friend in her, you’ve found a friend for life. she has been there for me through thick and thin. she always does her best to comfort me in times of need and i can only hope to do half as good of a job when trying to do the same for her. she remembers details about things and events that i could never hope to recall and is genuinely hilarious.

kaitlyn is the peanut butter to my jelly, the óðinn to my lōki, the mar to my lar, my #1 choice when i need to team up with someone for catchphrase. she’s my best friend and the sister i never had. i go and visit her, her family, and her friends multiple times a year because i seriously love spending time with all of them so much. i have never felt unwelcome in her home, in our friendship, or in our writing partnership, regardless of any turmoil our relationship has gone through. she’s my cosplay buddy. we fuel one another’s obsession with backwoods horror films. she is the only person on earth who can convince me to rub snail mucus extract on my face. she has helped me carry a giant air mattress from her living room all of the way upstairs to her bedroom after we watched the strangers and i decided that i couldn’t sleep down there out of the irrational fear that a man wearing a sack mask would murder me. she willingly traveled across the united states to come and visit me in san francisco while i was doing an internship, just to hang out ( king of thai noodle 4 lyfe bruh ). i even owe her for introducing me to one of my favorite restaurants of all time. together, we’ve contemplated deep shit, such as the existential dilemma and viking history, but also things like the nature and consequences of sharts, if left unattended to. we’ve had so many irl adventures, even though we always end up riding the struggle bus at some point or another, but it’s still always worth it.

i am constantly amazed and thankful that, through rp, i managed to find such a loyal friend, and that i still have the opportunity to write with her and make memories ( both online and irl ) with her so many years later, across so many different platforms. i appreciate every conversation i have with her, every plot we do, and every picture of mcu lōki she hides under my pillow when i come to stay over. the list of good things that i could say about her and inside jokes between us is practically endless, so realistically this post could very easily go on forever.

everyone deserves a friend and writing partner as great as her. ♡

@dxdger , JANUARY POSITIVITY / ACCEPTING .

#dxdger #gameunjang #yeomrah #kkamakwi #YOU MUST HONOR THE CALL. ( answered. )#anchored. ( ooc. )#* positivity.#* meme response.#i'm not putting this under a cut because this memer is important af.#long post //#let her run straight and queue! ( queued post. )

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theofficefantasyfootball · 5 years

Text

WEEK 7 - Wrap Up

HOW YOU BOOIN’?!!

youtube

Yes, I know that Halloween won’t be here until next week, but when my daughter showed me this clip the other day, I knew I wouldn’t be able to wait that long to post it. In it, Wendy Williams (talk show host) has a mild stroke/faints on live TV...and in the background as she falls it says on the screen HOW YOU BOOIN’? LOL. She explains in a longer clip that this was not a joke and that she did in fact fall and faint but it was because her costume made her too hot and she passed out! So, how does this pertain to fantasy football? Easy. Guys, fantasy football is suppose to be fun. Just like dressing up for Halloween is fun. But, if you take it to serious, if you put on too many layers before you head out the door, you are going to overheat and you will pass out. This year, I want to encourage you to enjoy fantasy football. Don’t try so hard that you fall and hit your head on something. It’s just not worth it. The season will be over before you know it...for some sooner than others, so please relax and enjoy while you still can!

TREE HUGGERS vs MOOSES ON THE LOOSES

Hold up there Scotty K, not so fast! You can have first place in the “even” division for 1 week but any more than that is not allowed thanks to The Moose! And yes, that’s what Mitch wants me to believe. He want’s me to think that the only reason Scott lost this week was all because of Mitch. I have the text thread to prove it. He wanted me to “thank him” for beating Scott. He practically demanded it. I reminded him that maybe he won because it was the first week this season that Tree Huggers didn’t break 100 points so maybe that was it. No, he wouldn’t hear that. He insisted that I thank him and you know what...I did. I said, thank you Mitch for allowing Matt Ryan to get hurt, thank you for making David Johnson watch the game rather than play in it. And thank you for leaving points on your bench by not playing Ekeler against the Titans. If it wasn’t for you, I would not be where I am today. Literally. Sorry Scott. I guess it’s good to get that one out of the way but hard to do it, like I did, against The Moose! There’s always next week!

ISUCK vs LONG LEFT BALLERS

Speaking of winning. I won. But you know what? Sometimes winning is sweet and sometimes it’s sour. This week wasn’t all that sweet, I won 119 - 109 but there was literally a moment with 5 min left in the Dallas game where if Dak would have given the ball to Elliott to run in from the 6 yard line instead of taking it in himself - Bebo would have won by 1 point. Also, had Bebo done the logical thing and played Marvin Jones instead of Calvin Ridley - he would have not only beat me but had the high point win for the week. And let’s not forget losing Mahomes early...another reason I won. So, am I glad I won? Sure. That kind of stuff happens to all of us...but I do wish that I could have beat him without knowing that 1 move here or 1 player different there and I would have been on a 2 game losing streak. So, I guess if I need to thank anyone - it’s not Mitch...it’s Bebo for not having a Tight End to play and for the Marvin Jones debacle. I will say he did put up an impressive 33 points on defense with the 10 point shut out bonus - which kept the game tight until the end. Good game Bebo. Go study!

HOWARD vs FUNK GUY

He’s the current Champion of this league. He’s 5-2. He just won high point and made $20. He’s kind of a big deal. He’s the “Funk Guy” and let me tell you - he takes fantasy football and this league very serious. If that first paragraph applies to anyone it’s Dana. Sometimes he might take it too personal. If you don’t believe me check the waiver wire transactions and see how active he is. He played Chase Edmonds just because....who does that...Dana does and Chase put up 38. He had a great week from Brissett with 35 as well. Howard on the other hand, how did he prepare? Well he decided to NOT play Aaron Rodgers who had 53 points and he also played an Inactive Player - Devonte Adams. You know what playing an inactive player tells me? That Howard just doesn’t give a shit. You know? Who does that...plays a player who isn’t playing and let points sit on your bench. He could have played AJ Brown. Nope. It’s disgusting frankly. Good win Dana. I am so sorry that you were matched up against someone who probably won’t even read this. #neighbor

MR AWESOME vs TuPADRE

I am assuming that everyone in the league knows that Andy and Gabe are pretty much best friends. They do the high five thing, they live in the trendy 12th South neighborhood together, they both play music...you get it. So it doesn’t surprise me that this week Andy let Gabe win. He saw that Gabe had only had 1 win this year...he knows he’s busy with his Taco business and he wanted to do him a solid and give him a win. I wouldn’t even be surprise if they met about it on one of their long “high five” walks and Andy told him who to play and who to sit. It also wouldn’t surprise me if Gabe gave him free tacos or Ladybird merch to compensate for the “arrangement”. I don’t know how you all feel about this but really I could care less. Let them have their secret deals and shady backdoor football games. I am going to focus on me and let them focus on them. “Congrats Gabe” (wink wink)...good win!

BOOMER SOONER vs TRADE WITH ME

If anyone needed a win this week it was Stu Jones. After losing 3 in row - he really really needed it. Basically ever since he texted me in week 3 about how he is going to make the playoffs - he has lost...week after week after week. Brett has a least has sprinkled in a win here and there to mask the pain. Never mind that this match up was a bit like the Titans vs the Chargers (two 2-4 teams) meeting up in a battle to find out who is the worst. In this case it was Brett Rutledge who came away with that honor- he is the Chargers in this analogy. I mean there’s really not much to say about this one. Fournette and Hopkins did what they were suppose to do and everyone else crapped the bed. Stu left points on his bench but had enough going on in his line up to finish with the win. To be honest, it’s possible that Lanakila vs Shart N Sweet should get the Minka award, final game still has to be played, but even if that happens I wanted Stu to have this lovely picture of Minka attending what looks like the premier of “Huntwatch” whatever that is...I am assuming it has little to do with Kareem Hunt...but maybe. Good win Stu. Brett - back to the trading room. If you still want to do that deal of Watkins for Hopkins hit me up!

SHART N SWEET vs LANAKILA

Here we go - Lanakila slides into MNF once again looking to grab a win. If he does - guess what - he will be 6-1 - something no one else in this league is so that will put him in 1st place over all. When I sat to start writing this paragraph Lanakila was up 103 - 81. The Patriots Defense is off to a good start and for Kyle - Sony has grabbed a TD and Meyers already has 35 yards - so it should be a good one to watch....

Ok - so once again the Patriots defense come up huge! With the shut out bonus they grab a total of 43 points for Cliff. Amazing. The Patriots D could prove to be the MVP of the year in the NFL. I know for Cliff they are for sure his MVP.

Kyle - you had a great night with Sony Michel but it just wasn’t enough. But once again - you outscored Mahomes with Watson this week - that HAS to feel good. Good win Cliff - you almost stole the high point away from Dana. So close!

SURVIVOR

It’s still going...no one lost. Everyone moves on.

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11toe11-blog · 4 years

Text

Horsewomen

May i enter. Quietly. For insight. And take back nothing but truth.

____

I sit here waiting.

I sit here waiting for you.

This is uncomfortable. This is actually a rather unsettling feeling. My breathing is no deeper than my upper chest. I am distracted. I want some distraction. Watch something nonsensical. Eat. Eat plenty. Something to comfort me. This sense of hunger, of not being full, no matter what i am putting in - from the healthiest to the junkiest.

He wants to mute me.

He is making pulao and raita. Just what i need maybe. Maybe with that i’ll be satiated. Calm this restlessness.

Weight on the chest. Cant go, oh damn! on it. Just watch it. Even if i spent the last month and a half working this weight off.

Actors freeze writers block.

Dont i have anything to write? After steam rolling for a week.THe point when i assumed things would come together into a giant revelation?

Breathe into the belly. Reach out from formula.

“What do i mean by…”

I miss. I miss kalari. Its a fact. I miss. I miss thiru. I miss. I am a miss. I am amiss, between a miss and a missus.

Something in the face sharts shifting. Music is hindustani. Kishori amolkar he announces, informs, sticking is head out of building pulao.

Watched S’s viva. As she discussed body widsom as the maker and keeper of stories, and the source of the individial truth and meaning making process we all search for.

Watched Su’s body leave her home of 85 years. Watched Su’s body after her spirit left its home of 85 years. He brows were tight together, as if frozen amidst a painful exercise to recall something.

Mid sentence, mid building he walks over for the hug, hug of reconciliation, hug of understanding, a hug to acknowledge, a hug to reassure - one of us, both of us.

A death happened.

Finally. After a dance on the edges that lasted almost 2 years. I remember sitting in the room with my therapist as art of the Art Therapy studies, and role playing with a strange dream, where i was arguing with R and having some experience of the Buzz road first floor centered around my possessions- why it cant be moved or something and his friends being around and me feeling alientated; while down in the ground floor abyss, the dreamer was distinctly aware of death waiting. The house didnt quite look like this, but was the same. In a way that spaces rearrange them selves in dreams, an additional corridor there, an elevation somewhere else, a door connecting two opposite ends of the house directly.

I dont know her at all. I have barely spoken to her more than a few handful of times in the 4 years that Buzz road has been my home. And none of the conversations have lasted more than a few minutes. She was a fine looking thin lady. Who i was told was a shell of her former robust self, and had alzheimer's setting in. So the main door, which is the common entrance to all the three floors had to be locked early enough. She would have anxieties otherwise.

Nothing too loud or boisterous.

Its never been loud or boisterous at buzz road from the time i have known it. Maybe when i got to know it, it was around the time it had gotten contemplative, retrospective, nostalgic. With not enough energy to hold the heightened states of merry making and large groups splashing their vibrance around. But finding them quietly in the folds of memory, back and forth, and reweaving them, alone.

I came into the quiet buzz road; a buzzing road thats quietened now, i realize.

People were talking about the sheer energy she possessed. I can imagine. Even when the last time we exchanged pleasantries, as i walked to junk the compost into the new compost pit we had going in the back yard, she was clear in her gaze, her glance inspire of all the tubes running out of her. Was that the last time she saw me? Or when i had my lungi pulled up, carrying the water cans to the first floor. I had put on an effort to be myself, anticipating judgements for my hairy legs, or my unconventionality inspite of my desperate attempts to fit into the conventional. Whatever conventional means.

I now wear diamond earrings to honor a memory. Of someone i have only met in books and ideas. WHo would have thunk!

He comes over from the pillars of pulao. Share a few grains of his memory.

The sense of community he is experiencing at the moment - in the virtual world with the responses that came in response to his tribute to her, -in this space, with his cousin who he felt he had nothing in common with. A point he always kept making. Until now, when he seems to suddenly have noticed a shared childhood. He accepted his cousin’s invitation to be there on the 10th and 13th day and was touched by the gensture, though he trailed off a “my beliefs are my own” as he made his way back into the kitchen.

From the kitchen he recounts and as kishori continues to inspire the pulao, how his aunt took him to the hospital after his infamous fall off the rockface, he had managed to get back home pushing his conked motor bike before fainting in the loo with a shirt soaking in blood. Quite dramatic. This bit of the story is new to me. I knew of the fall. And the 7 stitches. I didnt know she featured in the story, which i imagined to be the grand fall that shook the 3 worlds and its from that impact on the earth that i was born.

He was 18. My parents copulated. 1983.

This is quite a nice start to the mythical story.

What is this sentimentality? I am not a sentimental person. Sensitive yes. Sentimental? Not really.

In all senses i am aware of the fact that death doesnt mean anything. Other than the change of the playing scene. For the person who dies. Atleast for most people who die. A change of play for the actor.

For the co-actors, yea its awkward. Suddenly, the improvisation has new energy, an unknown. Space available for new possibilities.

Also a sense of a loss of the playing dynamics, which has to be refigured in new context.

Thats all death is.

And i myself must be dying in a million ways in the million multiverses, never mind “the other” dying. The infinite stages strung together and the actor playing out the infinite possibilities of each second.

The thought of him dying was obsessive,for last two years. Its only of late that i have been able to relax. Otherwise it was a high alert since his tryst with the fissure and bp. I would be up at night watching and monitoring the deapth of his breath as he snored on. The thought of him dying and the paranoia that set in was a pattern repeat of the tightly controlled panic I experienced regularly as a teenager when my mother came home wheezing and we spent the whole nights praying and trying to help her get some relief. With no one else to turn for help. Sheer holding-on to the the caregiver, protector, provider.

Sheer holding-on as the intermediate caregiver, protector, supporter.

Today i am lot more relaxed. The pattern that was triggered two years ago has eased. It gave a sample of the minefield of triggers that lay dormant in my mindscape.

Last night when he spoke of his will, after the initial reaction of sheer panic setting in, and then watching it pass, i was able to engage in the conversation - who should the bangalore house be left for? A. She has plenty in her name already. What about AV? Wonderful idea. He is a lonewolf with a strong sense of community. And will find some meaning and continuity, “make something with it, share it”.

Pondi house is for me.

There is no house in pondi yet. There is land in pondi. And our dreams for the home. Our mutual curiosity of this human instinct, nesting. What does it mean to make a nest with someone - which is neither his nor mine, but ours.

Pondi house is for us.

Its ours.

Quite fitting for the closet romantics that we both are.

Such a relief this sentence gave me. Pondi house is for us. Its ours.

What a burden it seems to be lifting from my shoulders.

My self image moves, glides past the harshly lit railings where it was held prisoner by my critical self - ever questioning my intentions of initiating and insisting on insisting on a home in pondicherry. Is it greed? Is it the easy way out? Are you in this for the money?

To something lit with a much softer glow of depth and wisdom. And love and respect.

Ustad Ali Akbar Khan takes the manch.

Nobody else may understand this. But we do. You and i, do.

That ours is a dance of light and shadows. We love and hate. Trust and mistrust. We make love with the enemy. Sleep, cook. Learn to trust. Love. The historical “ other”.

Far from Romeo Juliet. Far far from it. Infact, it probably starts where SSpere left off.

Imagine in play space: Romeo is reborn. Some 20 years ahead of Juliet, who was stuck in a limbo in some portal. And they finally meet. And there is nothing in the way- no warring families, no borders, no jealous friends, no helpful friends either - there is nothing helping, there is nothing standing in the way - except themselves. And all their assumption and presumptions.

“oh! I dint realize you were so obsessive.”

“Oh! I didnt realize you had such a nasty streak”

“You dont listen”

“This is far from the ever after i imagined”

Well, as i write this i suppose this is following the graph of every relationship there is. Nothing unconventional here. Inspite of all our ideas and stories of how unconventional this is.

Also, we arent really gear shifting because we have no kids.

Am i ok with that? Not having a child? Yes. In many ways. It will be nice to have someone to shape and mould and protect and spoil. But when i imagine, i dont think i will be doing something very different from what my mother did - circumstances and conveniences may be different - but the structure is the same - shape, mould, protect and spoil and love - with different degrees of ingredients - but still a replication of the process. Thats what nature is best at, no? Replicating. I dont want to do that. I can see past that temptation.

A cat will do. Or a squirrel. Or a raven. Or a garden lizard, according to him.

Coco.

One coco gone from the terrace. So many coco’s playing around in the goundfloor garden.

Sleepy.

Call with K is postponed to tomorrow.

Project Objex continues to delvelop and offer rich insights offline. Though the thread is held online. No, The thread is seemingly held online.

I find myself pretty uninteresting at the moment.

Stitching classes with mom is nice. Nice is a strange word. And a strange word is what i need to describe it. She is clear and simple. With sketchy camera angling skills. But in her area of expertise, she leaves me with no room for doubts or confusions. Reminded me of how she used to teach me as a child. I remember she used to say a thing only twice, if i made her repeat a third time, i would get whacks for not paying attention. And now she seems to be the epitome of patience, as i also notice my child self coming to the fore, to provoke and test, with disinterest and wandering attention and confusion. She holds the thread with such firm clarity and patience, that i notice the child self dissolving away, making way for me to inhabit the present. In the beginning, 15 minutes into the session, i noticed fatigue and disinterest and irritation setting. And by the end of the class i was clear and inspired and received the information she was clearly trying to transmit. I notice myself eagerly summarising all that i understood at the end of the session. Satisfaction and closure for her. And for me.

All that the giver has to give, needs a taker.

So that the giver can give fully and completely. And be free.

I feel when i am listening to my mother, i feel i am also simultaneously receiving from my grandmother. A line of women who understood cloth. And clothes.

A line of women, who were a few generations ago not permitted to cover their breasts, fashioning the most interesting and quirky ways of covering and revealing.

A line of women, some of who also sliced and placed a breast or two at the altar of life unlived.

A life of women who may have forgotten the joys of sun and wind and rains on naked breasts.

For me to understand R, i had to bring it closer to home. Last night the news of his aunts passing, meant that the inevitable event of his parents passing is clearer in the minds eye. I wouldnt have understood it, if i hadnt played out the scene of mom passing. And i notice that i keep telling myself that i will hold it together, like a stoic -like the stoic. Though the physical sensation is of a collapse a caving in. Like it matters. As if what matters is how i respond to it.

And its true. In an improvisation, a sudden disappearance of an actor...

Ashwini BIde Deshpande takes the mach.

The transformer catches fire. In a way that i have never seen it catch fire before - with a big long sideways trialing flame. And abruptly stops. WE gather candles and he goes to alert the watchman to make the calls to the electricity board. And i wonder if its a hello from the other worlds.

And its true. In an improvisation, a sudden appearance of an actor...gentle drizzzle

And its true. In an improvisation, a sudden disappearance of an actor...and the only thing that matter there is how you respond to the moment, to the change in space, how i respond to a new space.

He does the tadka, a vertical flame lover the ladle he uses for tadka.

We are such theatre.

But why is our sensation of it so mundane and unheightned. As if there is no audience.

The sense of audience , of someone watching is what has fuelled most of the adventures in life. Like on is at once living at writing ones autobiography, and featuring in a biography, all at the same time. The vantage of the witness. Is what inspired this whole era of camera and film and now virtual.

Very many ways of the mirror.

The vantage of the inner witness. Makes me relax a little, teeny weeny, into the belly. The breath is quarter an inch deeper.

What was the word that mom used for leaving a little extra provision of cloth - side something...let me check the book. Not side - seam. Seam Allowance. At least i got the first alphabet right. S. Mom and me have a long way to here, i see.

I didnt realise or register that R’s aunt used to play male roles in the play. She was an actress. I didnt know R’s very married aunt was happy to flirt with the handsome doc while R was getting stitched up from his fall. But around her, knowing that she lived down stairs, and maybe from the kind of home she lived in and her seemingly very traditional exchanges with people around her, I shrank. I felt I would be judged for not fitting in line with the expectation of a space. Walked past her awkwardly, pausing only for pleasantries. Not visiting her in her room as often as i could have and as often as i wanted to even, for the strangeness of the exchange.

Nor having the balls to suggest playing some classical music to her. Some respite from the dreaded TV.

Did i judge her illness or her age or her wealth?

Made it all about me?

Wanting to listen to music quietly together with a practical stranger at her bedside, we must share some language no? Some connection had to have happened. Some step one and two had to be crossed to find that step three. Or could i have straight have jumped to three? Long and short, that want, which kept appearing as an image, i believed was a response to her experience of intense loneliness. And my helplessness.

Which is understandable, one of the first descriptions of her from people who knew her was how social she was -how she was surrounded by friends. Yet in the past year and a half she saw no one except the nurses who were with here round the clock, her children, daughterinlaw, sister who regularly visited and maybe us once in a while and her, and occasional visits from her nieces and nephews. Watched plenty of TV. And went in and out of a hospital. And lived in looping memory. Ate mostly from a tube. The dabba that formulas came in we now use to store flowers for the pooja room everyday.

I would have really liked to go and sit and listen to her, her stories. But i didnt have the balls. What if she rejected me. I would take it very personally. I would be very hurt.

Because i kept dancing on the brink of the rejections. Dreading rejections from R, from friends, from peers, from the kalari. That i so intensely yearn to belong.

And so imagining that possible rejection, and a cruel word - i never made an effort. Even when i wanted to.

Just before she left to the hospital the last time round, I didnt go into her room. Walking past the gesture of one of her nurses to come in - justifying it mentally with “not wearing a mask”. Maybe i was arguing a lot with R and had no bandwidth for the extended family at the moment. Maybe when i argue with R i see no reason why i live here. Maybe when i am arguing with R, i feel I dont belong here. And my whole presence here is a lie. And i dint want her too catch my dishonesty of intentions, of superficiality. My fears.

I have often been plagued by the feeling of helplessness here at buzz road. Much lesser now. This round of our stay has been far more hands on, “empowered”, and with room for changes and play of dynamics. Me allowing myself to do the things i feel like doing at the cost of being “seen”.

Noticing caste encoded in the body memory. Because i have no lived memory of it. My earliest association with identity is being told by my father that i had “no caste, no gender, no religion”, i was human and a girl as equal to any boy.

Why then did i feel my space shrink here? Did i subtly read your judgments without even noticing it? R tells me that you singled out your daughter for her dark skin. Not moer than half a shade darker surely, because i didnt at all notice any color variations in your skins; you all looked like you were from the same family and that was it. Is that why i feel great kindship with the people who work here - because i unknowingly somewhere by the color of my skin maybe they judge me as one of them?

So there is a story of rejection here that i picked up from the space and wove into my story.

Kabira khada baazar mein

Mangey sabki Kahir

Nahi kahoon sey dosti

Nahi kahoon sey bair

I spent an hour faffing to escape finishing this page. Because it doesnt seem to be getting over. One think is linking to the next and then to the next, faster than i can write.

Or want to write.

I can let go.

Yes.

I can let this go.

I dont have to hold on to it like the bag that L and I tugged between each other other over compulsion to be the ideal daughterinlaw/good samaritan.

Lets me just summarize to myself that today i glimpsed the family, this group of people bound together by blood relations, a lot deeper than i ever have. I noticed wounds, as much as i noticed bonds. I noticed bonds, as much as i noticed wounds.

And i have no idea how i walked into this story, which seems to be an epic in itself with my own sense of great mythical journeying. I want nothing from them except peace and resolving and healing of wounds.

And thats what seems to be happening.

No one is counting all this work we are doing in the GDP. I always liked micro economics over macro economics.

Something.

Sleep

___

I gently close the door behind me. Notice the skin a bit shirvelled from time spent a touch too long in war. Thank you for keeping me safe in your waters. Thank you for the waves.

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