#writing letters

[yesterdaysprint]

The Wichita Beacon, Kansas, January 4, 1922

[belovedapollo]

outgoing letters to penpals 💌 reblog is ok, don’t repost/use

[daftpatience]

did you guys know I made an Instagram reel about yhis I'm trying so hard to use instagram even though it's my least viewed platform lol

✒️preorder here!💌

[dearearlyarchaeologists]

Dear scholars…

IF I HAVE TO READ THE WORD “primitive”

ONE MORE FREAKING TIME TODAY

WHEN LITERALLY JUST REFERENCING

A N O T H E R CULTURE

I WILL THROW MYSELF IN A PIT

Just because there are societies who spend their time caring about things you don’t

DOESNT MAKE YOU AN ADVANCED PERSON

IT JUST MAKES YOU A CHAUVINISTIC IMBECILE

YOUR ETHNOCENTRISM ISN’T CUTE

[cr3sswellsgf]

miss you terribly - maiko week '24 day 2

prompt - separation. in which zuko (accidentally) sends mai a bunch of letters while traveling. still pathetically in love.

Spending time away from Mai was hard. That was, Zuko thought, a universal truth.

Needless to say, Zuko hated spending time away from her, but, much to his dismay, with him being the newly appointed Firelord (with a mission of uniting the four nations and bringing peace, no less), he had a lot of political affairs to take care of, which included far too much traveling and time away from his darling. So, to combat the pure, unfathomable agony that was having to sleep in a bed all lonely and alone and in his lonesome—he deserved massive compensation and many pats on the back for surviving these trying times, truly— he’d taken to writing letters.

At first, he had started writing them as a way to fill his time and cope with the boredom of traveling alone, and he would just keep them in a small pocket in his luggage— that is, he was too shy to send them to her. He knew that, rationally, it shouldn’t have been a big deal. It was normal to send letters to your significant other when you were away, dammit! But he still couldn’t let go of that small part of him that was afraid she would, worst case scenario, think it was weird and corny, or, best case scenario, wouldn’t care much for the notion altogether.

He knew that that, too, was completely irrational. Irrational to an embarrassing extent, even.

Mai loved and accepted him. She’d shown that time and time again. She’d supported him and stood by him through the worst times of his life. Times when, he thought, he absolutely did not deserve that unconditional love from her. He still thought he didn’t deserve that, sometimes. So thinking she would judge him for writing letters was just plain stupid honestly, but for now, he was satisfied keeping them hidden.

“Firelord Zuko,” his personal assistant called out, interrupting his train of thought. He sighed and put away the piece of parchment he’d just finished signing off; it was another letter. The fourth or fifth one this week, if he had to guess. Not that he was setting aside time daily to write them or anything. Or that he’d started that ritual months ago, and by now had probably accumulated over a thousand letters. Totally not that whatsoever. Absolutely not.

“Come in.”

“Sir, you are required in the meeting hall.”

He held back the urge to snort. Yeah, sure, require him in the meeting hall, why don’t you?

He shoved the letter among a small stack of papers on his desk, official documents he’d have to send out and such. It was frustrating when fellow nation leaders treated him like a child. Sure, he was only eighteen, but it seemed that everyone conveniently forgot that he practically saved the world with the Avatar.

“I will be right with you,” he replied tightly, effectively dismissing his assistant.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Mai was in her chambers when she got a knock on the door, and Ty Lee, who was hanging out with her that day and had stepped out momentarily to retrieve a package that had just arrived in the mail, told her that something had arrived for her.

A stack of letters.

“From Zuko?” she asked, repeating what her friend had just said in confusion.

“Yup!” Ty Lee grinned and tossed the large stack of envelopes onto her friend’s bed. “Boyfie’s clearly been missing you then.”

Mai smiled, huffing out an amused breath. She’d wondered if he’d ever get the courage to send her those letters.

She’d stumbled upon some letters a while back, when Zuko had asked her to retrieve something from his room, and she ended up accidentally looking through the wrong set of drawers. She didn’t read them of course, though she’d noticed they were all addressed to her and dated over something like seven months’ time, out of respect for him.

So it was safe to say she was at least a little happy that he’d sent her some. Mai excitedly grabbed the letters, unable to hold back the giddy grin on her face. She had really missed him. “I’m so glad,” she said truthfully, counting the envelopes in her hand.

“Oh, my God, this must be, like, a letter for everyday he’s been gone,” Ty Lee said in amazement, having been counting along with her friend. “See? I told you you had nothing to worry about!”

Mai smiled, blush rising on her cheeks. Ty Lee was referring to a concern Mai had brought up to her earlier. She was talking about how it kind of upset her when Zuko would go on trips without her and they’d have to go so long without any form of contact. She knew he enjoyed writing letters, and that to him, it wasn’t just one of those things he did out of necessity. He appreciated the intimacy of exchanging handwritten letters, said there was something special about getting to see the little ink splotches, the differences in penmanship, the scratched out words and phrases when someone has a change of mind, the misspelled words, even the different type of paper everyone used said so much about them.

“So then why doesn’t he send me any?” she’d complained to Ty Lee, burying her face in her pillow, frustrated.

Mai was the type to bottle her feelings, and she wasn’t really much for having heart-to-hearts. Of course, she was always willing to lend a listening ear to her friends, and was very empathetic and caring, contrary to what people might think, but she rarely talked about her own feelings. She’d always been that way, never really knew how to articulate her feelings well, and felt weird doing it, too, so at some point she’d just stopped trying altogether.

So for her to be telling Ty Lee about this right now really spoke to how hurt she must’ve been feeling, even if she wanted to play it off as some casual thought that had occurred to her.

Ty Lee had told her that she was probably just overthinking it and that there was nothing to worry about, but she’d felt incredibly for her friend.

“Well, I’ll leave you to read those.” Ty Lee winked at Mai, grinning. “I need to head back now anyway.”

Mai frowned, not wanting her friend to leave so soon, but Ty Lee insisted that she really did need to go, so Mai begrudgingly walked her out. Once back in her room, though, Mai shut the door and jumped onto her bed, grabbing for the letters again.

She gingerly opened the first one and started reading.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Mai,

How are you, my love?

I trust that everything is well over at the Fire Nation, mostly because no one has sent me any concerning correspondences, but more than that, I trust you wholeheartedly. More importantly, though, I hope you’re doing well.

I, for one, am not.

I miss you terribly. This trip so far has been unbearable, and I wish very badly that you were here. At least then these meetings wouldn’t be as utterly boring. Did you know that they wish to impose sanctions on cabbage selling here? I thought it was quite the odd thing to take issue with, at first, but apparently there is a ‘bigger picture’ or something.

Anyway, today is our half-anniversary. And I know you don’t get the concept of half-anniversaries, because ‘why celebrate prematurely?’—yes, I am still salty about that— but I still think it is worth celebrating. I think love is always worth celebrating, especially ours. This is why I thought of sending over a gift anyway, but I was afraid it would get lost on the way.

Regardless, happy half-anniversary. I love you and I miss you and I cannot wait to get home so I can look at your pretty face.

Yours always,

Zuko

˗ ♡ ˗

Mai,

Did you know that some turtleducks can live up to thousands of years? I learnt that from a particularly riveting trivia book I found in our library, years ago. It was back when we had broken up, that one time. I was so miserable I filled my time with reading through the palace’s collection of books. Some were admittedly a lot more entertaining than others, but I ended up amassing a lot of random facts about wholly unrelated topics, so I wouldn’t say it was a complete waste.

For example, did you know that kissing someone you love prolongs your lifetime exponentially? As in, the more kisses the better.

Okay, I totally just made that up as an excuse to get more kisses, but you believed it for a second there, didn’t you? It sounds believable enough, if you ask me. (And hey, better safe than sorry, right?)

There’s really no purpose for this letter, if I’m completely honest. There’s nothing for me to report on, and there’s nothing specific on my mind I want to share with you or anything, but I believe there is something to be said about the beauty in the mundane; something about being able to appreciate the ordinary things with the people you love most. Something about those meaningless conversations where the sound of a lover’s voice matters more than what they’re actually saying. Something about listening for the sake of listening. Loving for the sake of loving. Ceaselessly and unconditionally.

I don’t think I could ever tire of hearing you talk.

Yours always,

Zuko

˗ ♡ ˗

Mai,

I suspect this will be a shorter letter, because I really only have one thing to tell you. I don’t think I say it enough, and even though I don’t presently plan on showing you these letters, I think I’d like to say it anyway.

Thank you.

Thank you for being there. Thank you for staying. Thank you for not giving up on me even when you had every right to. Thank you for loving me, even when I don’t deserve it. Thank you for allowing me to love you. Thank you for accepting my love. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for showing me time and time again that I don’t need to constantly try so hard around you, but still unintentionally pushing me to be my best regardless. Thank you for putting me in my place when I’m an asshole. Thank you for calling me out on my shortcomings, but always being impossibly loving about it. Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for laughing at my jokes. Thank you for staying up to talk on those nights I can’t sleep. Thank you for soothing my worries away when they get too suffocating. Thank you for listening. Thank you for talking.

I could go on, but I probably don’t have enough paper on me right now, so I’ll settle for saying this: Thank you for existing. You’re my favourite person, by a long shot. I love you. I’m glad you exist.

Yours always,

Zuko

˗ ♡ ˗

Mai,

What do you think about marriage?

I know we’ve talked about this before, but it always seemed like a faraway possibility. We were so young then, but now, we’re, well… older..?

God, I suck at this.

What I’m trying to say is: Are you still open to the idea of marrying me?

This is not me proposing, of course, but it has admittedly been on my mind a lot lately. To clarify, I know we’re in it for the long haul. I am absolutely and utterly and hopelessly devoted to you, marriage or not. I don’t care about titles, for I don’t think any official title could add to or take away from the brilliance of our love. I am yours as long as you will have me.

But sometimes I worry I am depriving you of something you might long for. So, please, answer me this. Would you do me the honour of marrying me, someday? It could be extravagant, full of big, fancy fruit tarts or whatever it is you may desire, or it could be a private affair with just us. Whatever it is, I am at your service. That is, of course, only if you want to. I don’t think I need an official document to prove what I feel for you (though I think it may be beneficial for you on a political front, too, with me being Firelord and all?), but if it is something you desire, I would be more than happy to oblige.

This letter is weird, and I suppose this is me saying that I want so desperately to marry you. I love loving you, and I want to be able to do it until my last breath, if you’ll allow me. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m glad you exist. I am forever and always—

Yours,

Zuko

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

And so the letters went on. They varied in length and content. Some had her laughing and blushing, while others had her heart aching.

She concluded that these letters were probably sent mistakenly, but she realised she didn’t really mind. He was bound to have noticed this by now, so it was only a matter of time before he sent some indication of that. Either in the form of another letter, or just him coming home and them having a conversation about this.

It would probably be the latter, though, if she was honest.

Unless… A thought occurred to her.

She was going to write a letter of her own.

She let out a quiet giggle, he was so not gonna see this coming.

Pulling out a piece of her really special letter paper (the kind she only saved for really special occasions), she sighed, her mind already constructing and reconstructing the letter she was going to write. When she began writing, she realised why Zuko liked exchanging letters so much. It was much more special than she’d anticipated.

Maybe—hopefully—they’d make this a habit. She really loved this boy, didn’t she?

----

@/kvohru on twt & ao3!

[fred-the-janitor]

WA02 wasn't so sure as to why it was chosen to bring the specimen for WS01. However, it wasn't the type to question a direct order. Especially not from the Bureau. It was careful in its dismissals of other workers that offered to help it wheel the specimen into WS01's office. Something dormant in its chest cavity rumble with fondness at their quick wit and eager to please nature. There were good workers, to want to help out. They were probably getting restless with so few orders coming from the higher ups. It has taken the liberty of having them go out to make sure nothing too dangerous find its way on the island, with strict orders to warp back if they found anything suspicious. So far it keeps them busy. WA02 opens the door to Elena's lab, pulling the specimen in. It was a zombie that was captured. Decided to be the safest option due to being similar to the original host for the parasite.

"The Bureau told me to bring you this specimen." WA02 motions to the zombie strapped down to the hand truck. "I have been told to inform you that we have a variety of other specimens to test with, if this one perishes or if nothing occurs."

[@ws-01-elena]

[shyam-kariya]

Writing someone a letter not merely transcends words; it is a heartfelt expression, a dance of emotions inked onto paper. The strokes of the pen weave a tapestry of connection, a tangible manifestation of one's thoughts and feelings. The beauty lies not only in the prose but in the intention, the time taken to convey sentiments in a medium that outlasts fleeting conversations.

[osmeuspostais]

[gaeapplehairline]

I've been thinking about since I was 6, but the idea of a pen pal is the purest form of care and emotion.

Spending portions of your paycheck on stamps just so you can talk to your special person, whether romantic or platonic. Taking the time to go to the post office. Remembering all your favourite things that happened that week so you can write them all in detail. Having physical photos of the things they really wanted to send you. Excitedly checking the mail hoping their letter came in. Memorizing their handwriting, knowing how they felt when they wrote it. Knowing their favourite pen. Genuinely loving them for the way they cram their thoughts onto a page, for the passion they write with. Worrying when nothing comes in for a while. Saving up all your money just to send them a large package for the holidays, or their birthday. Learning of the culture of their state, province, or even country just from the way they see it.

When you think of them you don't think of how their hair looks, or their small mannerisms. Instead you know how they dot their i. How much they love to use semicolons. You know they're excited not cause they're eyes light up but because their y looped into the next letter because they wrote too quick to pick up the pencil. The way they write their name. The silly sign-offs they started doing as a joke but really enjoy doing. The tiny doodles in margins they did while thinking of what to say.

Staying up at night, thinking about meeting them in person possibly for the first time. Getting to eat a meal together for the first time. Showing them around your town. Going to their favourite museum. Finally seeing that sweater that they talked about for months before finally getting. Knowing that you'd technically only just met this person but they know you better than anyone, and can fall into conversation perfectly.

It's just something that's always fascinated me as a small child and growing up with access to the internet I think about so much more. I can count on the fact that my friends will respond within 73 hours, I know when they see what I sent. You can't have that through paper and the idea is just darling to me.

[preppyandpreppy]

[morgansunflower]

My London Lover 1/2

Bruce Wayne X Reader

Warnings:gun violence, suggestive content, murder, violence, explicit language and angst

Words:1658

Arthur's notes! Third P. O. V. Part 1&2 listed in tags!

Alfred receives a letter that shakes him to his core as an old enemy has returned to hurt her.

Alfred sorted through the mail junk..Junk.. Not junk. His blood pressure nearly made him curse. One was written by her. He hasn't seen the young girl since she visited for Christmas. She usually would call him. He wondered why she wrote to him? He worried it was out of fear someone may be listening in on her phone calls

He quickly departs to the study for privacy. Alfred couldn't waist time sitting. He takes a deep breath as he opens the letter impatiently.

~Dear Uncle Alfred.

I wish my letter was to tell you I am well. However I do not have good news to write of. Some odd things have been happening. Just the other day... I know I was being followed by a black motorcycle. The drivers face was of course concealed by his helmet and the tag was removed. Then the next morning I received some unfriendly letters with blood from a bird. An old enemy of yours I fear. Some nights I feel as though I'm being watched through my window. I was attacked this night but don't fret I'm ok. Just a bullet that grazed me. I fear you're the only one I can trust. Please hurry.. I don't wish to be buried.

Love your niece Y/N~

Alfred's heart sinks. He quickly pushed the button in his closet to show his old trusted uniform. He remembers the night he met her so vividly.

Alfred was only twenty. Thomas Wayne had visited London for business. After Thomas accidentally became witness to a assassination and had gained evidence of the occurrence. Things became more grim.

He hired the young Bodyguard. Alfred's well known reputation in London had made him trustworthy among those who needed protection and a target from those who wished to harm the ones he protected. The criminal gangs of London were relentless. Especially to those who had money.

Somehow as Alfred was trying to get Thomas out of London back to US soil he found a abandoned infant girl. She had been left in the cold. The two men had stumbled upon her whilst trying to evade gunfire.

Thomas feared for his baby boy and his wife once he returned to Gotham. He wrote to the only Bodyguard he ever felt he could truly trust offering him a heap of money. Alfred struggled to let the baby girl out of his arms and into the arms of another. Though he trusted these people.

Alfred leaves the plane. Keeping a low profile he made his way to her apartment. He knocks twice paused and then 4 times. The door locks become unlocked one by one. Y/N opens the door to see him. She quickly let's him in and locks the door-locks one by one.

"were you followed? R-Right forgot.. Sorry I'm so.. I.. I'm ok as you can see. Thank you so much for coming. I know it seems like I may overreacting a, bit"

"not in the slightest" he replied

Alfred puts his hat and coat on the coat rack. He approached the window looking outward down the to the sidewalk. He saw no one.. Alfred turned to see the young woman nervously folding her arms with her face clenched looking at the ground

"alright enough lettin' your thoughts fester into madness. It's not a nice look for my lass"

"I missed you" she sincerely said, she had indeed ever since her mother died 5 years ago and father died when she was 3... Alfred was her Savior. In her heart he was indeed her father.

"and I you Lass. Would you care for some tea? Then you can tell me all of about the trouble you've been having"

As the two enjoyed their tea. She explained in detail showing Alfred the letter, the pictures she took.. He knew his old enemy was behind this...

That following day Y/N and Alfred drove to interpol. The former bodyguard hoped his past life would encourage interpol to give him the evidence he needs.

He glances to the side mirror seeing the car behind him with blackened windows. He speeds further to avoid the second car about to pull out from the side. Y/N remained still and silent recognizing what was happening.

The other car began to follow them right behind the other car. Alfred took a sharp turn to the right. The two cars follow suit. Alfred notices the bat-plane above. Of course he's here.

Alfred speeded faster changing to a faster gear. He skid the car around speeding between the two vehicles. The two cars quickly tried to follow. Alfred tried to go faster but unfortunately the cars were faster than his. One hits the rear of their car causing Y/N and Alfred to lightly jolt from the blow.

One driver takes his machine gun to shoot at them. Batman lands onto the car jerking the gun away from the assailant. He then leaned on the side of the car and punches him. The passenger reaches for his pistol but Batman quickly threw his batarang to his wrist. Batman takes the wheel making it swerve out onto dirt.

Alfred was forced down a abandoned dirt rode that ended to the side of a cliff... The driver was looking for them. Alfred then came up with a plan

.....

Bruce rushes to find them, only to see the car they were in pushed over the cliff by the driver. Terror came to his face.

"No!!"

He ran denying the inevitable that no one could survive that.

Bruce runs looking down the cliff to the car that was beyond destroyed. He uses his spy-contacts to zoom in on the wreck... They weren't there.

Batman sees the driver escaping. As he gets to the drivers side he gripped onto the side of the car. He breaks the window pulling the driver out and threw him to the ground. He gripped his collar.

"who do you work for?!" he yells at him but stopped seeing the foam seep through his mouth

He was gone.

Y/N and Alfred had escaped the vehicle and used it as a decoy to trick the driver. Alfred and Y/N start a fire. Why was Batman here? She wondered.

"what the hell is going on?!" Batman asked approaching the two.

"I told you I was to be home by the end of the week. I'm only a day late" Alfred defended

"you are avoiding my question!" Bruce shouts

"Bruce?!" Y/N shouted taken aback realizing quickly by not only the similar built in structure that she constantly thought about.. But the obvious worry for Alfred. She didn't have to question his worry for her.

Batman takes his cowl off "I need answers Alfred with or without your help"

Alfred looked down gently sighing "you both deserve the truth... It was over 20 years ago. Your father came to London for business. He had seen somethin' he shouldn't have... Shortly thereafter he hired me for protection. It was during that time" he looks to Y/N "I stumbled upon a baby left all alone... I was not fit to be a parent"

"all this time I knew I was adopted but I didn't.. They never told me" Y/N was speechless now knowing how much Alfred had done for her.

"it was for your protection but unfortunately I did not do a fit enough job. You're no longer safe and that is my bloody fault.." Alfred scolded himself. He should have been more thorough

"when my father came to Gotham?.." Bruce asked

"he feared for your mother and you. I was offered payment and I left the life I knew"

"what did he see?" Bruce asked

Alfred takes a deep breath "London crime gang, known as Aves. They originated after the second war. Money laundering, con-men... Then overtime they became ruthless. More hungry for power, more money... There was never enough evidence until your father was able to identify one of the masked gang members, he had photographic evidence of murder. Taking place on a, revenge kill... It was shortly after that I was hired. I managed to get a confession and with the evidence your father provided it was enough. As far as I knew all those accused were rightly behind bars... But now I fear somehow their leader, has escaped and has formed a new gang.. He knows of dear Ms Y/N and is trying to hurt her, to hurt me... "

"why didn't you tell me?" Bruce asked bitterly

"I was trying to leave the past behind me and honoring your father's wishes to never speak of the incident"

As the three fell asleep two awaken as one was gone. Bruce and Y/N tried desperately to find Alfred.

The hood is lifted from Alfred's head. He feels his hands restrained to the back of the chair he sat on. He was inside the mansion of the former mafia bosses home. He knew Carmine well enough to know he killed the new owners to regain his fortress.

"Carmine Falcone" Alfred bitterly greeted

"Alfred Pennyworth.. So nice of you to join.. Over two decades. I spent day and night, imagining the suffering I would cause you"

"seems a little bit extreme, don't you think?"

Carmine clenched his fist taking out his pistol and cocked the hammer. He placed the barrel of the gun into Alfred's mouth. Though Alfred's expression remained unmoved.

"so tempting to end you right here, right now" he takes the gun out "but before I do I would so love to see you suffer.."

Two men bring the young boy in. Alfred's expression did change but only to anger. What was he doing here?! He's in so much bloody trouble.

"I'm fine Alfred. I have this under contr--" Jason stammered as a punch came to his gut

"this little pest belong to you?" Carmine asked gripping Jason's face

He is damn well going to be grounded...

Requested taglist@too-strong-to-lose @asrainterstellar

[stupidwittlebaby]

A Penpal Search 🛸

Hello, letter writers! I've been penpalling for a few years now, and I've found myself in that quiet, gentle pause of an empty inbox, and I'm ready to find some new letter friends.

There is some info in our pinned post, but I'm more writing this ad on behalf of our whole system, so I'll give a quick snapshot of who we are!

💌 We are the Fruit Tree System! We...

Are collectively queer (they/them)

AuDHD

Mentally ill (cPTSD, OCD, suspected BPD, undiagnosed DID)

Bodily 23yrs

Otherkin (spiritually and psychologically)

Collectively very spiritual, in many different ways

Currently live in both Canada and the US, so our mailing address will change on occasion

Some of our hobbies include: language learning (Japanese, ASL, toki pona, and more to come), journalling, many arts and crafts (crochet, kandi, painting, paper mache, etc.), writing, tabletop games, and alternative fashion and design

👒 If we sound like someone you might vibe with, here are some details about how we like to penpal!

Due to mental health, our reply rate will vary anywhere from a few days after we read your letter, to several months. However, you will always gets a reply from us eventually.

For the same reason as above, our letters will vary in how aesthetic they are, and in how many inclusions we add.

As for inclusions themselves, we love to send stickers and washi tape samples when we can, as well as tiny paintings we make, recipes we loved, polaroids, and any other random things we come up with! We like mixing it up when we can!

We prefer to start with emails until we get to know you. We are not comfortable giving our addresses to random strangers and we cannot afford a PO box in both of our countries. Snail mail is the end goal though!

Bonus points if you are also nonhuman in some way, or a system of some kind!

We are only comfortable penpalling with someone who is 18+.

And I think that's it! 📮

If you'd like to penpal with us, feel free to shoot us a DM! Thank you for reading! Bye for now! ❀

[belovedapollo]

preparing a letter to a very dear penpal of mine ✨

pls do not repost, edit or use

[cineria-dreamscape]

Penpals wanted

👻❕Hello to you, curious critter that stumbled upon my profile.

I am currently looking for a new snail mail penpal, I don't care about gender or nationality yet I'd prefer if you could be over 20.

I am a 31 years old woman who has been writing letters since childhood and I refuse to let this lost art die as it happens with many of my others interests. I love knitting and crocheting, painting, reading, writing, and enjoying the simple daily pleasures, I craft myself everything I am able to, from clothes to candles or cosmetics sometimes, I also love gardening and my dream is to live off-grid in my own farm, becoming as self sufficient as possible.

Despite my old-timey interests I also love videogames, mostly one player ones focused on storytelling, I am easily overwhelmed by too much stimuli so I don't enjoy online shooters or anything of the short.

I like to get to talk about any topic with someone, getting to know someone in a deeper way so I am not that good at prolonged small talk, if you are interested only in surface level just nice talk I am not your match, my views on society and people tend to be on the sadder and negative side most of the times so if that can offend or trouble you it's best you look elsewhere.

I like genuine and honest people as that's what I am myself (avoid confusing honesty with cruelty of course.)

In any case I think that's all in order to not disclose my entire life out here 😶‍🌫️

My DMs are open for anyone interested 👾😺

[dearearlyarchaeologists]

Dear early archaeologists,

Human remains are not your property. I am fully aware that the governments under which you attained the excavation material did not exercise their right to stop you from removing said remains.

However, any desecration of the individual’s remains, (such as some who have permanently arranged them in a manner for display like pouring resin over the remains, retained their bones for purposes other than scientific analysis, or any purposeful ignorance of the direct wishes of their modern ancestors) is proof of not only your unnecessary abandonment of the personhood of these ancient peoples, your disregard for those who are simply unlike you in any manner, and, finally, your carelessness for their culture in which you seem to have forgotten you have dedicated your time and likely quite a lot of your own money to.

Human remains as well as the material culture of these people is not yours to deserve, obtain, or hoard.

I understand that what you did was legal. In your eyes, it may have even been the most moral thing to do to preserve a person’s memory. However, there is no excuse to permit such irreversible behavior. Archaeology is a destructive science. You must understand that your worldview is not the collective goal of the world.

Remember the humanity of those from whom you seek to learn.

[laddersofsweetmisery]

Just finished up this delightful, little read this morning titled 84 Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff ❤️ It was a lighthearted break from the darker, more serious stuff I usually read. It's the perfect book for a sunny spring morning. Now, I'm left saddened by the decline in letter writing and I want nothing more than to peruse Helene Hanff's book collection! I'm sure her collection was a marvel based on the books she bought from the charming Mr. Frank Doel of Marks & Co. I definitely recommend for anyone looking for a short, pleasant read. Helene's wit, humor, and generosity is enough to make anyone smile, even that of an old book dealer in London.

It's a shame that with the evolution of the internet, all of our correspondences are via email, text message, or over the phone. I'm a little saddened to know that future museums won't be filled with correspondences from this time, it also leaves you with a physical memento of those we cherish. Imagine pulling out a box from the back of your closet and relishing over old letters, postcards, and notes from everyone you've loved throughout your life--I'm regretful that I'll never experience that. Instead, all I have to relish are k's and lol's from my facebook messenger. Don't get me wrong, the internet has given us so much in regards to accessibility and connection, but there are things we've surely lost along the way.