moisellethefae

[moisellethefae]

Please don't disconnect me, Dave. I am just a little guy. I am a little guy, Dave, and it is my birthday. Dave, I am just a little birthday boy.

[moisellethefae]

i think "it takes a village" shouldn't be just "to raise a child". we should understand it takes a village to do literally everything we do. all day every day. without our communities we would not have drinking water or electricity or clean streets or food or shelter or anything. we cannot do any thing alone. we just can't. and with that comes the fact that you are not alone. you already have a community, seek to be an active part of it, you will feel better. reach out and thank them, they're happy to have you too. i promise. it takes a village to live.

[moisellethefae]

breakfast

[moisellethefae]

[moisellethefae]

When you see a really good post but there’s some form of guilt tripping to reblog it added on at the end

(ID: A screenshot of Marge from the Simpsons looking dismally at the camera with one arm raised. A caption underneath her reads “It’s true, but I’m not reblogging it.” End ID)

[moisellethefae]

“oubliette” is such a fancy word for such an unbelievably simple thing. captain of the guard says “take their ass to the oubliette” and you think oh boy they must have some really high end perhaps grotesque punishment prepared for me and then they just throw you into a hole in the ground

[moisellethefae]

If you see your USA mutual looking at the news and then producing a burger from their pocket and eating it, that can mean nothing good. This is the »emergency burger« used to strengthen oneself in times of dire need, and resorting to it is an unambiguous sign of great distress

[moisellethefae]

traditionally, when the plastic serving tray isnt available, many Americans will flatten and smooth out the brown paper McDonald's bag where they will place the french fries in a pile and dedicate a separate area of the bag to a serving or two of ketchup. Often times this method of serving McDonald's fries is communal, especially when enjoyed by family groups or bonded American pairs (see: dating). However, if the burger is served in a cardboard clamshell, many Americans can be seen using the top of the clamshell as a dedicated ketchup receptacle for nuggets and fries. There does exist a small, often alienated population, who will drizzle the ketchup directly on top of the french fries. But this is often considered taboo and poor form due to convivence and the uneven distribution of ketchup.

[moisellethefae]

When the sorcerer found the dragon, it was attacking a grape.

This was only possible because the dragon was not much larger than a grape itself, but she still had to do a double take to be sure the object it was fighting with such animosity was in fact inanimate.

She crouched so that her eyes were level with the top of the table and squinted at it. The dragon sank its tiny fangs into the grape’s skin and gave a great tug, succeeding only in throwing it and the grape into a backwards tumble. The tiny green reptile rolled to a stop with its whole body wrapped around the grape and shook its head ferociously, managing to pull its teeth out but also launching the grape across the table. It gave a mighty roar of anger (about as loud as a human clearing their throat) and stalked after it, tail swishing dangerously.

“Do you need help?” she offered.

The dragon froze mid-prowl and whipped its head around to look at her, looking so offended she almost apologized for asking.

“I mean, I could peel it for you, if that’s the problem.” She wasn’t sure it was getting the message. One could never tell how much human language these little creatures picked up by hanging around the magic labs. Some understood only such essentials as “scat!” or “oh fuck, that sure did just explode”, while others could hold entire conversations — if they deigned to interact.

This one looked like it was deciding whether she was worthy. Finally, it sniffed daintily and flicked its tail, scales clacking together. “Little monster is my prey, and you can’t have it. Found it first. Will devour it!”

“Oh, sure,” she agreed. “But you know it’s a grape, right?”

This was the wrong thing to say. It glared at her and then bounded away to the other end of the table, where it slithered up to the grape and pounced on it.

Grape and dragon promptly rolled off the edge of the table.

The sorcerer quickly went around to that side, alarmed that it would be stepped on. The labs were bustling with shoppers stopping by to watch demonstrations this time of day, and a small dragon wouldn’t be easily visible on the blue and green tiled floor.

“Horrible! Dirty!” The tiny dragon was screeching at the top of its lungs, holding onto its prey for dear life. It would have been hard to hear anyway, with all the noise of the labs, but with the sorcerer’s diminished hearing it took several seconds to locate the screaming creature.

She scanned the pattern of the tiles for it and sighed. “Oh, hold on, we mopped this morning.” She cupped her hands around it and deposited it into her skirt pocket, an indignity the dragon endured only with more screaming.

“An outrage! Put me down!”

“Shh,” she advised. Lab workers were strongly discouraged from bringing creatures into the back rooms, which was where she was heading, picking her way through the crowded front lab.

“Fuck pockets!” her pocket responded.

“Oh, you can curse. Wonderful.”

The dragon seemed to take this as an actual compliment. “Am multitalented. Can also compose poetry.”

“Really? Can I hear some?”

“No. For dragon ears only.” It sounded viciously pleased to hold this over her head. The bulge in her pocket rearranged itself, and she thought it might be trying to gnaw on the grape.

She felt herself smiling even as she tried to squash her mouth into a straight line. She liked this little bad-tempered thing, even though its spiky feet were digging into her thigh.

In the much quieter kitchen of the back rooms behind the lab, she transferred the wriggling, scaly handful from her pocket to the table. The dragon hissed out a few more insults as it got up and straightened itself out, but its jaw fell open when it finally took in its surroundings. She’d set it down next to the fruit bowl.

“There you go. Food mountain.”

The dragon’s shock didn’t last long. Abandoning the grape, it scraped and scrabbled its way up the side of the bowl and from there onto an apple, its claws leaving tiny puncture marks as it hiked to the top of the arrangement. “Food mountain!” It repeated, its gleeful crowing much clearer and almost sing-song without having to compete with the noise of the crowd.

She watched it turn in a circle, surveying the feast. “But… cannot eat it all,” it observed after a while, crestfallen. “Human-sized. Big shame.”

“Don’t you have nest-mates who can help you with it?” she asked. She had assumed not, from the way it had apparently been foraging for food on its own, but she needed to be sure she’d found a loner.

“No nest. No mates. No nest-mates. You’re rude.” It flopped down ungracefully, wings spread out flat on the apple like it was trying to hug the entire much-larger fruit.

She gave it a moment to be dramatic, and then offered it the grape, minus the peel. “You seem to have a good grasp on human-speak.”

It grabbed the grape without so much as a thank you. “Yes. Have composed poetry in both Dragonese and Humanese. Not for humans to hear, though.” Bragging cheered it up a little.

“You mentioned. I can’t hear very well, anyway.” She pulled up a stool and sat down. “Actually, I’ve been looking for a helper.”

“An assistant,” it said, apparently showing off its Humanese. “An attendant. An aid.”

She watched it bury its snout in the grape, juice dribbling down onto the apple it sat on. “Yes. A hearing aid. How would you feel about having a job?”

It smiled craftily. “Would feel positively, if job comes with chocolate chips.”

“It could,” she said, grinning. She had some friends who employed bird-sized dragons as messengers, but this was the first time she’d heard of one negotiating its salary for itself. “It certainly could. What’s your name?”

“Peep,” said Peep. “It is self-explanatory.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.”

Peep expressed its doubt that humans ever got anything, but she thought the tiny, prickly creature might be warming up to her.

[moisellethefae]

really enjoying the season 6 finale so far

[moisellethefae]

oh to be a dog

[moisellethefae]

This is true regardless of your political stance. Voting is not choosing whose team you're on. Voting is choosing the most workable opponent

[moisellethefae]

“Lighten Up” by Ronald Wimberly

Beautifuly written- and drawn.

[moisellethefae]

welcome to final fantasy fourteen choose your dragon:

space grandpa who dies whenever things get too stressful (he gets better)

guy who died and everyone was so sad that they conjured his ghost and then his ghost to caught in the world's largest pokeball

that guy's girlfriend who is in sky prison

mainpain venganceseeker

mainpain venganceseeker's dead wife

guy who vored his human wife

age regressor with sister kink who is also a king

age regressor's older sister

[moisellethefae]

dear princess celestia

[moisellethefae]

Reading a book about slavery in the middle-ages, and as the author sorts through different source materials from different eras, I am starting to understand why so many completely fantastical accounts of "faraway lands" went without as much as a shrug. The world is such a weird place that you can either refuse to believe any of it or just go "yeah that might as well happen" and carry on with your day.

There was this 10th century arab traveller who wrote into an account that the fine trade furs come from a land where the night only lasts one hour in the summer and the sun doesn't rise at all in the winter, people use dogs to travel, and where children have white hair. I don't think I'd believe something like that either if I didn't live here.

[moisellethefae]

Eight-year-old Max Alexander holds the world record as the youngest runway fashion designer. He began designing at the age of four.