I Would Love To See A Fantasy Novel Where The Lore That The Reader / Protagonist Learns At First Is Not

i think i’ve sewn my heart a little too tightly onto my sleeve

not to sound traumatized, but it feels unreal that someone can just miss you and want you around so often. I feel like every worry within me keeps repeating, “until when? until when?” and the people I love and that love me confirm, “as long as you’d like.”

~~PROPERTY OF RAY SMITH~~

Memories are the foundation of what we base our perception of reality and even our own selves off of, and those memories ultimately make up who we are and how we interact with our external world. Recently, I feel that I've been forgetting many of mine. You always expect that when you forget something like a major memory, you can feel that something is missing. I've learned that often times you don't even notice you're forgetting something until something comes up to suggest that you should know what it is, but you simply don't.

Like waking up in a bedroom you don't recognise after a night out of drinking. You can remember going out to the bar with your friends, you can remember talking and laughing, and you remember this person you didn't know coming and talking to you. You know you keep drinking with them, but you don't actually remember much past that point. You can assume you slept with whoever you were talking to before your memory runs a blank, but you don't know for certain.

Next comes what I tend to think of as the most terrifying part of the process.

Later in the day you talk to the friends you went out with again, and they fill in some blanks for you. You now know you actually went to a hotel with someone else who wore an outfit absolutely blindingly neon orange, definitely not the person you remember talking to. You look through your phone, checking your camera roll and texts. You see a couple videos of yourself very drunkenly dancing with your friends and someone wearing neon orange, but there's always too much movement and poor lighting for you to recognize a their face. You also see some texts from an unknown number talking about how wild last night was, and how they are they ran into you. Based on all the information you collected, you assume this unknown number is the person who was wearing neon orange, the two of went back to the hotel and slept together, and they left before you woke up.

When you retell this story in the future you say that you were talking to this really cool person who you got bored of after 10 minutes before your friends, being the saviors they are, dragged you away from them and you all started dancing. It didn't take long after that for this really attractive person with admittedly bad clothing taste started dancing with you. One thing lead to another and you ended up sleeping with them in the hotel, giving them your number before they left.

The actual events of that night looked more like this: The person you remember talking to got wine spilt on them and left the bar in a huff. Shortly after your friends dragged you up and you all started dancing. Next, you see your brothers ex in the bar, and drag them up to start dancing too (you had always liked this ex). The two of you leave the bar together and stumble drunkenly through downtown as you talk about your brother. By pure bad luck your brother spots the two of you while driving, pulls over, astounded to see the two of you together. His ex says they have a hotel room booked, and your brother agrees to give his ex a ride there, and offer's you his couch to sleep on. By the time you get to the hotel your brother and the ex don't seem to be very broken up anymore. The ex gives you the room key, and you stay in their hotel room while your brother and the ex meant to go back to your brother's place first, but don't quite make it that far. The text you receive the next morning from an unknown number is your brother, who's number you never saved out of spite.

The human ability to completely forget memories without a trace and rewrite memories scares me more than death; more than life.

I am no author, but I need to get this written down. I don't want to forget who I am.

Roses without thorns Wings without horns Skin stained in color Still, I grow duller

I've painted a lot of glass wings, and now I want to explore all the possibilities with stained glass wings. What's your favorite type of stained glass? I love nature so anything botanical or starry would be my fav.

The 3 hours long process videos will be DMed on my Patreon on August 5th

Happy plagueiversary

donald trump is guilty on 34 counts due to a specific legal loophole! google donald trump rule 34 for more

It’s weird to grow up in a family where you know you’re loved but you don’t feel loved. And then later in adulthood you understand how almost impossible it seems to cross that distance and let yourself experience closeness, how otherworldly love feels now and how love feels unbearable at times. You flinch when someone tries to wholeheartedly love you. And over and over you see so clearly how you cannot be loved unless it's from afar and love is mixed with that familiar sensation of distance and coldness.

all day, a breeze dances in and out of the apartment. the windows, wide open. the sky gets dark around 7, and I turn on a low lamp and light two candles, content in the half-dim living room. a rain rolls in and I can hear the long-dry earth breathe a wet sigh of relief under its shower. the tv stays hushed and sleeping. my dishes from dinner wait in the sink. the candlelight flickers shadows across my notebooks. after a nap by my side, the dog pads over to the window for a better listen of the cars slicking over street puddles.

I've missed this. living alone. the way a night deepens my solitude. how each decision through the day has come to this: a quiet apartment, save for the sounds of my typing. four walls, warm and dim and perfumed by the sky just beyond it. I've missed this, closing down the kitchen on my own. watching the space around me fall asleep. comforted by the knowledge that I made this feel like home. I made this feel nice for me. every corner, a letter of self-love.

"Treat them like people" is probably the biggest lesson we learn from the novel when it comes to Wei Wuxian

He is comfortable around spirits and the dead because he treats them with the same respect and gentleness he would any living person.

He is able to get along very well with children and the youth because he treats them with the same kindness and decency he would a grown adult, never looking down on them and instead patiently guiding them to learn things about the world and themselves.

He sympathizes with the Wen remnants' suffering because he's seen firsthand they have not been complicit to the war and has decided to extend to them the same kindness he received, thus treating them like individuals and not a mass representing Wen Ruohan.

No matter how insignificant, unsightly or scary something or someone might be, Wei Wuxian has always granted them respect and showed no disgust or disdain where it was not warranted.

Ooh! Your project seems totally cool, and I'd love to join, but is having Ao3 required?

Thank you!! I’m really glad you love it and maybe even wanna join it, but absolutely no Ao3 or even Tumblr account is required! The project itself—once we get to posting it—will be on one of my—Camila’s—existing Ao3 accounts so there is no need for it there, and including your socials/contact info to find you in other places is completely optional so you can completely choose what to include! So… yeah, an Ao3 account is absolutely not necessary!