#Childhood story in English

[prakhar0017]

हमारे यहां भी एक कुत्ता हुआ करता था, फिर....

यह याद मेरे बचपन से जुड़ी सबसे खट्टी यादों में से एक है कि हमारे घर में भी कुत्ता था। मैं करीब 7 या 8 साल का रहा होउंगा जब उससे मेरा पहली बार सही मायनों में साक्षात्कार हुआ है। उस समय हमारा परिवार एक ज्वाइंट फैमिली थी। ऐसे में तमाम खींचतान के बावजूद हम एक थे और इस चीज का फायदा उस कुत्ते को भी मिलता था। उस कुत्ते से हर कोई बहुत प्यार करता था, सिवाय मेरे! मुझे कुत्तों से बचपन से ही बहुत ज्यादा डर…

[fictionadventurer]

I have a germ of a theory that good Christian fiction has stories that are less about shaving down your personality to meet some specific mold of what a good Christian looks like, and more about "how gloriously different are all the saints."

Not that the Christian life doesn't involve fighting against our own sinful nature and conforming ourselves to Christ-like behavior, but I think it makes for better, more realistic, and more universal stories when you also recognize that people have different gifts and flaws and they're going to be called to use their unique personalities to serve the kingdom of God in their own unique way, instead of assuming everyone has to conform themselves to a very specific (often secular-culturally based) image of good behavior. It makes for a much more vibrant story.

[kinokoshoujoart]

CORRECT TAGS‼️‼️‼️‼️ @rn0na-lizard you are so so so correct….. my favorite ‘Normal Girl’ in hmds…….i almost never see anyone talk about these aspects of her let alone also love her for them as they should.

i feel like Leona/ DS lumina gets mischaracterized super often which is understandable bc out of all the DS candidates leona is the least like her ancestor (who i also love, for different reasons).

in AWL lumina was the only kid in the valley for a very long time, but many of the DS residents have lived in the valley their whole lives. while lumina had accepted her role as a proper young heiress by chapter 3 of AWL— and when DS begins Leona already at this point of her life— lumina still had a lingering sense of uncertainty and angst and loneliness and doubt, and unresolved worries about her parents. absolutely none of this is present with leona

in this world leona starts with Lumina’s 22 year old appearance, she’s just rich as hell and living her best life (as she deserves), she’s unabashedly shallow, puts herself first always, speaks so politely and affably yet she can be so casually cruel in the most genuine cute way and out of touch with reality and and i fucking love her and i’d die for her. my beloved girlboss girlkeep girlypop

more iconic Leona Moments

when muu/muffy asks for beauty advice leona’s recommendation is “this brand of mail order beauty cream is simply divine! and it was quite inexpensive too, just 100,000 G 🥰” everyone else looks uncomfortable and muu is like “you’re as frivolous as always….”

aside from the 3 who take literally half your money (Witch💖, moi, and thomas) leona and panama (romana) take the most money from you if they carry you home when you faint. just a couple of girl bosses holding on to their girlpire (btw shout out to sebastian, the only resident in the entire valley who carries you home for free)

neither panama nor leona attend the harvest festival, they send sebastian there by himself to test the food first lmao (if you poison it like the witch they’re harboring on their property requires you to do, sebastian is just like “i can’t serve this to Mistress Panama…”)

once again sebastian attacks mukumuku for her sake, this time not to make her a paintbrush but she told him to get her the best slippers and this was apparently the easiest way. sebastian gets fucking mauled btw

leona has hands down the best romance route in hmds. all her scenes are incredible but god the slow burn friends to lovers with your DVD player….

in her purple heart event she shows up at your house because she heard you have a DVD player, asks you to show her how it works, and then just leaves after she’s done playing with it

in her yellow heart event she has sebastian fetch van so she can buy a DVD player for herself but van’s like “i’m so sorry …. Pete… bought the last one….”

leona is so unable to stomach the idea of other people having things she doesn’t that she starts to cry and the only way to placate her is to tell her she can go to your house anytime she wants just so she can use your DVD player. that’s not a setup to a budding romance that’s her final heart event

it’s the most incredible romance arc in the world like girl you have infinite money you can just. buy a DVD player somewhere else?? “i want to watch DVDs at my house just like you!” leona you have three entire bedrooms

“rich girl love interest who has everything except love, win her heart by having genuine conversation with her”: done to death, tired, i don’t have time for that

“rich girl love interest who has everything except a fucking DVD player, win her heart by giving her expensive stuff and ‘relax tea’ and access to your DVD player”: audacious, intriguing, never been done before, innovative

if you deny her god-given right to access your DVD player she is like “Is that so……………Just let me be alone for a little bit.” incredible tragedy i understand. take as much time as you need to grieve darling

oh but her first heart event asks you to pick a side in an argument she’s having with panama and the correct answer is to say “sebastian is the one who’s wrong” (sebastian has said nothing wrong this whole time and yet both of them have just been yelling at him to shut up)

and her blue heart event is “help me find this heirloom necklace… boohoo…” and when you find it she’s like “perfect! now grandma won’t get mad at me. hmm, you seem pretty dependable…♡” augh she’s way too good at this…….!!! i’ll do anything for you!

when you propose she says “of course, i always dreamed of having a romance and a wedding♡” and says nothing abt how she feels about you <3

also if you marry her, once a week she goes to hang out at her ex love interest’s place for 6 hours straight and comes home saying “whew… i had so much fun that i must have lost track of time… i’ll hurry on home”

if you marry another girl she starts flirting with you like “I’m so envious of your wife, having such a fine husband… Pete.” (or whatever your name is)

i’ve become obsessed with her and romeo’s horrible trainwreck soap opera marriage since replaying cute in jp… it’s SO… i have so much to say about them that it should be its own post but i’ll just give the cliffnotes

shotgun wedding vibes. romeo is surprised by his own wedding. they’re childhood friends but he himself has never considered marrying her. her words to him at their wedding are “Make me happy♡” (command)

she understandably can’t stand his terrible table manners or his clothes or anything about him (except that she wants to watch him surf and have his child. but he instead walks in circles all day. coward) and he’s both really good at accidentally stepping on landmines and just ever so slightly majorly terrified of her after marriage (“but surely her angry outbursts are just her way of showing love hahahahaha” you’re going to die. she’s going to kill you). the only positive things they say about their marriage are extremely shallow. they can’t communicate with each other because romeo always says the Dumbest Shit obliviously and leona always responds by cutting him out of her life forever!!!!!! (for 5 seconds) while he has no idea what happened

they are both so melodramatic and they both just do nothing except make each other worse and run away from each other and push each other away but they can’t escape each other. neither of them ever has to grow or change if they marry each other because an elderly overworked man is sustaining both of their existences and neither of them can take care of themselves and i love them your honor

also romeo’s first crush as a kid was apparently her mom, and if leona falls for YOU she flirts by mentioning that sebastian says you look like the spitting image of her dead father. dear fucking god

they’re the epitome of “You're both just enabling each other's mental illnesses. You're both perfect for each other. Never change. Just never involve anybody else in what you've got going on.”

romeo really does feel like her stupid lackey. like the karen to her regina. they even had this dynamic in the games they played as kids… she was the Harvest Goddess and he was Servant A/Minion A (they might still be playing this game as adults…he calls her lady/mistress sometimes after marriage…)

btw leona’s best friend (wife) marivia is also just as… there’s an event where they just gossip about all the mineral town ppl and marivia says ann would win a gluttony contest and they both giggle

there’s also an event where marivia casually walks into Witch’s hut and just interviews her so she can write her into a novel. witch is left completely drained by this exchange. leona and marivia both are so chill about the horrible cruel villainess living in leona’s shed who wants the town poisoned and rewards you for killing animals and hurting yourself and is putting curses on everyone (and they’re right. she’s never done anything wrong in her life)

[tea-cat-arts]

I'm willing to at least hear out most of the "xyz plot point is heavily tied to abc cultural context" brands of posts but the "wwx isn't meant to be read as morally gray" and "the western fandom made up Sizhui being wangxian's son" brands of post make me feel like my cultural ignorance is being used to gaslight me

[higgssupremacy]

the memory

His first memory was a woman.

He didn't remember her face or her name but he remembered her voice. She sang songs for him and told stories and even though he didn’t understand most of the words he always listened to her and feels himself spellbound.

She called him my angel.

My beautiful bright angel…

He remembered her touch, the warmth of her hands, her smell, the taste of her milk on his lips.

There were a lot of things in their room; a lot of books, a lot of boxes with clothes and food, but she was always in the middle. She was center oh his small universe. 

He remembers how she coughed.

It was a sharp tuneless sound which burst into the silence of their home no matter how hard she tried to hold it.

The woman was still singing but less often and more quietly.

Her songs became sadder no matter how hard she tried to smile.

My beautiful bright angel…

Her voice often broke and she cried with silent tears. He couldn’t understand why and also cried with her.

Sometimes people came to them. He was so afraid of other people's voices, all the smells they brought with them, unpleasant and pungent. He tried to hide and sit quietly in the corner until they left.

Once the woman coughed all night and he lay next to her and cried.

And then she fell silent.

More strangers came and he climbed under the blanket so that no one would notice him.

He lay there alone for a long time; sometimes he slept, sometimes he cried.

But soon he got hungry and he got out but didn’t see the woman anywhere.

She disappeared.

He walked around the room stumbling and falling (he just barely learned to walk) but the woman was gone.

Then he hid in a corner again and covered himself with a blanket, crying and shaking and didn’t understand what happened and why she left him alone.

Many hours or many days have passed, he didn’t know how to count time.

And then came the man with a loud voice. He was angry for some reason and he smelled bad, he grabbed the child by his leg and pulled him out from under the blanket.

“There you are, Peter!” shouted the man.

Who is Peter thought the boy.

“You, yes you, little shit!”

Peter was his name.

Now he remembered.

[tinkerbitch69]

The worst part of being trans on an English course is listening to people give Harry Potter a verbal tongue bath cuz it’s an ‘amazing and well crafted piece of literature’ prefaced of course by a completely vapid ‘fuck JK Rowling’ to show they are in fact… An AllyTM

But if you dissent from the popular opinion of 20 somethings who stubbornly refuse to move on from their childhood obsession or take off their nostalgia glasses and you dare to argue that actually on just about every level Harry Potter is kind of boring, uninventive and thoroughly uncompelling as anything other than indulgent wish fulfilment?

Then they look at you like you just spat in their face.

Anyway Fuck JKR AND Harry Potter! No death of the authoring your way out of this one 😒

[dreamerchildern]

Wally's Wild Adventure

In the savannah, a little wildebeest named Wally dreams of adventure beyond the herd's routine. When a food shortage strikes, he proposes a daring journey to find new grazing land. Despite skepticism, Wally leads the herd through deserts and forests, facing challenges with unwavering determination. Along the way, he gains allies and ultimately discovers a lush valley, transforming from a dreamer into a hero. Wally's story highlights courage, loyalty, and perseverance.

[elliott-the-creature]

pt 2 of the story I made for my 8th grade english class! this was absolutely wild to reread, I was such a weird kid lol. also maple totally isn’t a kinda sorta self insert that I grew to love a lot… /s (text below if you can’t read my handwriting)

pg 6: “Wh-what?! You didn’t even repay me for helping with your stupid lyrics!” Icky scoffed. “Well uhhh… how about my hoodie? You can have that,” Byron said, taking off his Joji hoodie his mom gave him. “Ooh, really? For little old me, heh? Thanks a ton buddy!” Icky smiled, laughing as it couldn’t fit at all the 3’5” demon. “Well, can you help me now?” Byron asked through his giggles. Icky suddenly stopped laughing, which scared Byron a bit. “Listen kid. I can make you the best singer for your age. I can make you rich and famous for the rest of your life. But there’s a catch, and it’s a hard one,” Icky explained, looking serious. “W-what is it? D-do I have to donate a pitcher of my blood or something?” Byron stammered, looking pale. “What?! That stuff’s stupid! Nah, you just gotta guess my favourite song, that’s all,” Icky replied, looking amused. “Wait, is that it? Just guess a song?” Byron said, seeming confused.

pg 7: “Uh yeah, but don’t you realize there’s like, a million billion songs? It’ll take you years to guess it, hah!!!” Icky laughed, looking like it already won the bet. “Well, how much time do I have to guess?” Byron asked. “Oh, only the rest of your life! Or until you guess the right song.” Icky said, and randomly disappeared. “Huh, what was that fo-” Byron inquired, getting cut off as a knock sounded from the door of the studio room. “Can I come in?” a somewhat familiar voice called out. “Um, yeah, sure,” Byron answered, and the door opened. Instantly, Byron felt a rush of happiness as he saw his blind sister, Maple. Maple rushed to him, and they hugged. “How are you? I heard from mom that some record people came to you and told you to make a song, or whatever,” Maple said, her voice tainted with concern. “Oh, well it’s hard… but I can do it. For you and mom… and the internet, heh,” Byron responded. Maple nodded, seeming satisfied.

pg 8: “Good, I don’t want you being overworked! Aren’t you finding it hard figuring this all out on your own?” she asked. “Oh, well I’ve always found this kinda stuff easy… y’know?” Byron lied, thinking of Icky. “Ah, well those damn record people told me to keep the visit short… so I gotta go now,” Maple sighed, and ruffled Byron’s hair. “See ya little bro… and you better make the best song ever, or else!”. Then she was gone. “Wow, that’s your sister? Lemme get her number, hehe!” “Shut up Icky. And yes, that’s her,” Byron growled, turning to Icky. “Ah, whatever! Anyways, are you gonna guess the song?” Icky asked. For the rest of the evening, Byron guessed random songs, which turned out to be wrong. “Uh, Eye of the Tiger? Emo Boy? Sicko Mode?” “Nope, nope, and nope!” Icky would always respond. Finally, Byron decided to go to bed, and maybe go for a walk to clear his head the next morning.

pg 9: And that’s exactly where he found his answer. As Byron was walking along the city streets (with the agents’ permission, of course) he heard singing coming from an alleyway. Turning to the alley, he saw Icky! The small demon was floating around a fire, singing a familiar song. “Two trucks, having sex! Two trucks, having sex! My muscles, my muscles, involuntary flex!”. Instantly, Byron recognized the song. It was Two Trucks by Lemon Demon! “Mm, maybe that’s its favourite song…” Byron questioned, and rushed back to the music station. In his room, he called out: “Hey Icky! I wanna talk.”. At the command, the little violet demon appeared. “Hey there mortal! Come to grovel and guess my favourite song?” “Yep… I have a few more songs to guess,” Byron said, feeling confident. “Alright, guess away my friend!” Icky grinned and sat down. “Hm… Bad Guy? Riptide? Ok Ok?” Byron guessed. “Nah, Billie Eilish is for depressed 14 year old chicks.” Icky snorted.

pg 10: “Hm… Two Trucks?” Byron said. Instantly, Icky froze. “R-repeat that please.” Icky stammered. “Uh, Two Trucks. Is that your favourite song?” Byron guessed, knowing it was right. “Ughh, fine! Yes, that’s my favourite song. Happy now?” Icky groaned, sighing. “Yes! Wait, does that mean I get to be a famous singer?” Byron squeaked happily. Icky nodded glumly. “Yeah… you get your wish. Damn you mortal… always one of ‘em has a brain big enough to guess right…” “Wait, I just wanna thank you!” Byron smiled. “For what? I’m a demon, not some friend,” Icky asked, looking sad. “But to me you are! Hey, how about we hang out and make music together? Y’know, just be bros?” Byron proposed. Icky looked up, seeming slightly intrigued. “Only if I don’t give you more wishes! Then I might consider it,” “Yeah, no more wishes. So, what do you say?” Byron promised. Icky nodded and shook Byron’s hand. “So, you wanna tell me your name?” It asked.

pg 11 (epilogue): From that point on, Icky and Byron were homies. Byron ended up making his hit song: Demon Boyfriend. His mother went on the magazine she always wanted to be on. The record people were still as strict as ever, but it became more bearable. Maple soon found out about Icky, but became friends with the fiesty demon quickly. And one day, he realized his own story to fame was similar to a fairytale he heard as a kid. “Eh, it’s probably just my imagination,” Byron told himself, and went to go skateboarding with Icky, Maple, and some other people he never met.

[cyanide-sippy-cup]

Waited until after the strike week to talk about this but I had like a whole post about how we should be positive about the new ATLA and then uh.

We got the Percy Jackson special. Shitty live action movie. New streaming adaptation that promises it will be more accurate and well written and what the fans want. And then it comes out and it's... not that.

Well at least we can go back to the trailers and pretend the show's not out yet while we enjoy the vibes presented there.

[ryukisgod]

I think the best example of power reveals rather than corrupts is parenthood. You have control over a helpless human who can’t leave you for years. People can be mean to their children in a way they can’t be mean to other other people. A child is someone you can scream at and hit without consequence, without them standing up for themself.

[killjoy-prince]

Manga haul from yesterday

[cowardlylearningtobebrave]

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[gothicromancebf]

my problem lately is that i want to write a new story but i just have a bunch of loose ideas and i dont know how to string them together or i just keep changing my mind about what i want to do 😭

[bumblebeebats]

All throughout childhood, while my peers were socializing and making friends, I studied the blade read so many books that I am now almost legally blind, which left me with vast and deeply instinctual understanding of English grammar - and next to no ability to explain how it actually works. Friends will often ask me to proofread their writing and then get very mad when I say things like, "You need to completely reverse this sentence and cut this clause entirely; no, I'm sorry, i don't know why, I just know that the way it is now ITCHES 😭"

Now, what I want to see is a fantasy story where this plays out with MAGICAL grammar. Someone from a backwater town deeply steeped in folk magic arrives at Wizard Uni where all their fellow students are like "What do you mean, we should add another '𝞯∘⋇𝞿' to the incancation because it 'sounds better'? What do you mean, 'it could just be a regional thing'?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'THIS SPELL JUST FEELS LIKE IT NEEDS A LIVE RAT'????"

[noblesknightsandswords]

Listening Through Imperfection

My eyes hurt. Why do they hurt? Was I blinking or had I stopped again?

I feel stymied, I want to write, to see my words on a page again like they used to always be.

To hear my voice echo out into the white void that is a screen or paper in front of me.

It’s cold outside and I can’t help but constantly think of Christmas Eve church services with the family. Why do I think of that before Christmas when it’s cold? Why does that mean more, feel more magical than even the best of Christmas days? Because I love the night so much? Because that specific night is full of song, candle, family, and freezing air? When I think of Christmas Magic that is what I think of, not Santa or gifts or Christmas feasts. It’s the quiet of the night walking out of a Church we only ever go to on that night, flushed and joyful, met with ice cold air filling my lungs. 

I am human, that can not be changed or conquered in some silly way by some unimagined foe. Imperfection is all I will ever be able to strive for and that’s more beautiful than any perfection possible. What are the angels for if not to whisper well wishes upon the airs of their feathers. Is that not why they fly? Why they see with their so many eyes? Is it not to spot the every imperfection of the human in humanity and still yet whisper “it’s okay”? Is it not what they were put here for, to watch and to guide, they are Hera’s Hundred Eyed Warrior, they are the love of Aphrodite’s Eros. 

The evening has always been my favorite, when it’s dark and light coexisting. I can walk out and breathe in a fresh air better than midday in any season, a perfection in an imperfect world (it is still imperfect, just not to me). A contradiction that makes me a hypocrite. Oh how I hate hypocrites and the act of hating a hypocrite makes me a hypocrite myself. How a wonder continues to travel. Do you understand that the best voices are the ones that play without artificial smoothness? That people cry and acclaim the raspy voice over the smooth clarity because we do not live for perfection, we do not crave perfection. We crave for someone to tell us that there is beauty in our imperfection, and we strive to show others how wondrous imperfectability is.

Sometimes I am tired, sometimes as I write my throat begins to ache as if I was saying this all, as if I was singing this all non stop and continuously. I can feel it crawl up and out from my lips like an internal smoke to match the eternal flame that burns deep within my cavity, begging to be seen. Not to show, but to provide light, to burn and be fed. The smoke floats higher than I will ever walk, the smoke floats and flies as I lay back in the grass and stare into the sky. Is it day, is it night? Am I staring into endless blue, or the magic of sunset or the mystic beauty of the stars beaming? 

I feel lighter each time I do something like this, it’s like arguing a point, debating a right and my legs don’t shake and I hurt nobody. It’s perfect in the way it will never be perfect because I remain unheard when this remains on a paper rather than screamed through a hall, debated sitting at a table, to be told through tales at a fire. It’s burning that star I’m made of brighter without burning anything around. 

Is this what it feels like to fall in love again, with the words I can put on a page and the ability to read it and feel passion? To see the imagery and understand myself again? To love life and see how bright the grass is, how deep the brown of bark? Am I seeing the world in it’s bright colors the same way I did when I sang annoying little tunes non stop? Before I knew what it was like for my throat to hurt?

Annoying. Annoying little tunes. I do not think that. They were passion and joy and the love of a child for the life they had. Others told me it was annoying and so I silenced myself for a constant noise is unkind to others. A fraction of my words and thoughts were spilling from between my lips and dripping between my teeth but others could not handle the quantity and consistency I was constantly swallowing. Do they think the thickness thinned just because I was able to prevent it from spilling between my lips as I grew? 

I must remarry myself with the child I was and understand the cruelty of the world ruined me, and I must bury my corpse and pray upon the altar of my headstone and tip my face to the stars when it begins to rain. I will live again, I will continue to grow as the roots of my skeleton continue to spread to others. I will continue to live and I will allow my words and songs to seep from my skin to those around me and share myself with them. I will never be silent as a grave again.

This is a death. This is a death that will never spread and no one else ever remembered the story to. I am here again and I will sing in the eerie silences and at the festival grounds. It will not matter because I rose from the dirt singing and I will never go silent again, I cannot be made to do so. This is my child with the ability to destroy, this is the me that others were so afraid was right. I will continue and as my bone-roots spread, so will my wish, and every word will mean something as the dark of night spreads through and peace is allowed in love. It is not a war to be yourself and fall in love with life. My smoke will rise and coat the sky and its smog will pollute the earth with Joy. My fire will burn and keep my chest alight to guide others in the shadowed night.

[bestcamera77]

Kenny's Outback Adventure