#a story a day

[antofstory]

[37]

‘Where are you headed?’ a stranger asked the horse.

‘Anywhere but here, really,’ the horse answered briskly.

‘I get you. I really do. These constant wars, political rivalry—it just seems like all the smart people are tired of dealing with government issues. Consequently, we have the highest unemployment rates, product prices are rising, salaries aren’t mirroring those tendencies, and the gap between the rich and the poor is ever so large. And don’t even mention global warming, poverty, the water crisis, and the Craters losing in the Finals…

But I never thought horses had so much intel.’

‘Nah, I’m just bored.’

[magicalincorrectrobodokiquotes]

A Story a Day: 01-04-2025 NO SHAME AT THE POOL ⚠️TW: BODY GUILT⚠️

January 4th, 2025

“Alright, in the water we go! Cannonball!” Avery declared, jumping in the pool.

“Pffffffffffffft. Have fun!” giggled Booloo as she walked over-

“Come join us, matey!”

-noticing Polly encouraging Wheeler to join her and Pearl in the water.

“...I’m good, Polina. I’ll just watch…”

“Okay!”

Booloo plopped down. 

“Oh. Hey Booloo.”

“You okay, Wheeler?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

They cried a little.

“I’m fine, Booloo. I swear.”

��What happened?”

“I don’t swim…and- and- and-”

“It’s about your leg, isn’t it?”

“I LOOK FREAKY, COMPARED TO THE OTHERS!”

Beat.

He began crying even more.

And once the ringing subsided in Booloo’s ears-

“You want a hug?”

“No, I just wanna look-”

“Wheeler, look at me.” Booloo sighed. “You know how hard it is to FIND a bathing suit that FITS for me?”

“...tricky.”

“Exactly. I’m 5”11 and chubby. I recently STOPPED letting the intrusive thoughts get to me.” 

“How?”

“It’s hard. But you’re not alone.”

Wheeler sighed. “I guess not.”

“But you’re gonna be okay.”

“...thanks, Booloo.”

Silence. 

“I’m gonna try to get in the water.”

“Okay. Have fun.”

“Hopefully, I will.”

[paranatellonta]

For Every Day

The garden gnome had spent weeks carefully selecting autumn leaves. When the perfect ones had been chosen, he dried them and set about manipulating a knife as large as his own body in a sheltered spot near his mushroom home. After all, the greeting card he was making couldn’t be small or flimsy, which meant it could never fit inside his own house.

Still, the gnome wondered if the card would really be large enough to express how much he loved his good friend the giant, even now that they weren’t neighbours anymore, even when they no longer found ways to talk to each other every day. He wanted the magic contained in the card to aim high enough to reach a giant’s heart.

When the gnome finally finished his careful cut-out of a life-sized cat silhouette and had arranged its dried-leaf fur, he struggled for another three days to fit the card into an enormous envelope. Then, to his relief, the mailhuman was willing to pick it up, so the gnome wouldn’t have to drag it all the way to the post office.

As soon as the giant opened the card, the leaf-fur cat jumped off the paper and butted its crisp head against his hands. When the giant opened the card again the next morning, the caleafco purring warmly in his lap, he found out that the text had changed; it would show him a different story on every day of the year. The message from the gnome, however, scribbled below in his tiny handwriting, always remained the same:

“Remember, dearest friend, that you are not alone.”

—

[Image description: The photo centres a tall, rectangular greeting card made of cream-coloured paper, out of which the silhouette of a sitting cat has been cut to reveal a background of brown autumn leaves. The card is leaning against the white pot of a green houseplant, and there are more potted plants standing near it.]

More about the garden gnome and the giant: [part 1] [part 2]

[arsonistintraining]

24 April 2023

got the tumbler from a conference commemorating 50 years of the UN Conference on the Human Environment from last year.

this year Eid is weird, to say the least. not that the previous years haven't been weird.

[american-tyger]

ᴇᴢʀᴀ ᴊᴀᴄᴋ ᴋᴇᴀᴛs Artwork from his 1962 book The Snowy Day.

[acorviart]

not to sound like a boomer, but I need some people to learn how to write emails in a semi-professional (at the very least) format so you're not cold emailing a business/potential employer/any other stranger about formal matters in the exact same way you'd DM a close friend on instagram

the formality/language can loosen up in the email chain once you've established a rapport and you match the other person if they're being less formal, but please don't have the very first email you send a stranger be written in all lowercase ultra-casual sms slang with no greeting or signature and a billion emojis

[vaindumbass]

love all the cute dungeon meshi pride art but chilchuck would not be caught dead wearing any sort of pride merch. you think that man is going to give out any personal information? for free?????

[breakingjustxn]

well i mean, not wrong // credits: @screamingemonight on Instagram

[sp00kies]

I want ALL OF YOU to apologize to Minecraft Story Mode right now because these graphics from almost 10 YEARS ago?

Is about 100 times better than whatever the fuck this is

[pangur-and-grim]

there’s a poetry contest that I kinda want to enter, but the requirement is a single 10-page poem. which is nuts. it would have to be some sort of rhyming short story….

[saints-who-never-existed]

“In the war film, a soldier can hold his buddy—as long as his buddy is dying on the battlefield. In the western, Butch Cassidy can wash the Sundance Kid’s naked flesh—as long as it is wounded. In the boxing film, a trainer can rub the well-developed torso and sinewy back of his protege—as long as it is bruised. In the crime film, a mob lieutenant can embrace his boss like a lover—as long as he is riddled with bullets. 

Violence makes the homo-eroticism of many “male” genres invisible; it is a structural mechanism of plausible deniability.”

–Tarantino’s Incarnational Theology: Reservoir Dogs, Crucifixions, and Spectacular Violence. Kent L. Brintnall.

[antofstory]

[31]

‘What does B.O.O.B.S stand for?’ The sign at the entrance to an almost windowless highrise building read B.O.O.B.S in big black letters. The sign was as discreet as it was vulgar.

‘It stands for Bottled Open Operations Society.’

‘And what is the second B for then?’

‘For PR purposes.’

[magicalincorrectrobodokiquotes]

A Story a Day: 02-09-2025 Fanfiction Friction ⚠️WARNING: FANFICTION INCEPTION + TEENAGE EMBARRASSMENT⚠️

February 9th, 2037

“Let’s see…who’s on the jinxing block?” Henry sighed, checking his agenda. “Oh yes, I’m supposed to be jinxing our Booloo at 2:30. Very good, very good.”

He checked the time. 12:30. He had about an hour and a half to kill before getting ready.

No better time to do some reading, than now. 

Therefore, he grabbed a notebook that was right next to a stack of literary classics.

“Let’s see what we got.” Henry smiled as he opened the notebook. “‘Purple Nights and Red Mornings’. Chapter 1. It was another bright and sunny morning, if the scent of scrambled eggs and the sound of drumming were any indication.”

He paused.

Must’ve been a new book Theodore surprised him with for Christmas.

Meh, whatever.

Henry kept reading. “As the sun glowed brightly, Greg called out from the kitchen to Anthony. ‘Hey Antho, great drumming there’, said the former. ‘Awwww, thanks, Gregory,’ the latter replied. Interesting interaction…either they’re brothers, roommates or ‘really good friends’.”

*knock knock knock*

“Who is it?” Henry asked.

“Uh, Hen, it’s Wheeler…” Wheeler chuckled nervously.

“Oh, come in, come in, just reading. I don’t bite.”

“Okay, okay, just returning War and Peace.”

Henry nodded, putting the notebook on the bed and opening the door. “Did you like it?”

“Meh, it made for a decent pillow.” Wheeler shrugged. “Sorry about the drool stains.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

“So, what’re you reading this time?” Wheeler asked, placing the book on the bottom shelf.

“Some new paperback book...at least, I think it is.”

“That’s nice.” Wheeler smiled unknowingly.

“I’ve gotta get back to reading, now. I just need a decompressor before I jink Booloo.”

“Okay. Suit yourself.”

And he was about to leave-

Henry nodded, sitting on his bed. “Okay, now where was I- oh, here we go. ‘Is Muzzah up yet?’ wondered Anthony. ‘No, not yet,’ replied Greg, looking concerned, as this was VERY unusual behavior. Okay, I must’ve lost context, what the fuck am I reading?”

“I dunno, classic literature bores the fuck out of-” Wheeler paused. “-wait...oh no! I’m gonna regret this, but can you keep reading?”

“When you live in a usually bustling house of four musicians, you pick up on your other three bandmates' morning habits.” Henry paused, as well. “Okay…but I don’t know why YOU’LL regret this. when it's ME reading it.”

Welp, too late. The pending embarrassment was already creeping in.

“Anthony looked up at Greg ‘You don’t think he was up all night playing the guitar again, do you?’, wondered the former. ‘That or Wags was keeping him up again,’ was the latter’s response. ‘Let’s go check,’.” Henry looked up.

Wheeler was as red as a tomato.

“Lemme guess, this is a fanfiction?” Henry deducted.

“I got bored, Hen. SO I decided to write fanfiction.” Wheeler blushed. “We are NOT to discuss this EVER again!”

“Is there smut in it that you don’t want me to see? Look, you’re 19, not every 19 year old has lost their virginity, so I’ll understand any terribly written smut.” Henry sighed.

“No smut.” Wheeler gulped. Should he burn the notebook? Throw it in a shredder? Have Frances disintegrated its contents?

“Then what’s so bad? It looks decent.”

*whisper whisper whisper whisper*

“Can you at least tell me how the chapter ends?” Henry asked.

“They find him conked out in a love seat.”

“And how does the story itself end?”

“Late night star-gazing on the roof…” Wheeler blushed. 

“Look, there’s nothing wrong with writing fanfiction. As long as it makes you happy and you don't hurt anyone, I won’t judge. And neither will the rest of us.” Henry patted his head.

“...thanks.”

“Trust me…” Henry sighed, grabbing a notebook labeled Sherlock x Watson fanfictions- DO NOT READ THIS BOOK, THEODORE!!! “You’re the only one that knows about this notebook, as far as I know.”

“Then you’re the only one who knows about my fanfiction notebook.” Wheeler lit up.

“Deal!”

NO ONE should know about the time I tried writing a fanfiction at 19 that AO3 decided should never be shown other than the fact that autistic 19 year old kids don't have the best experiences with writing stuff like human interactions and go off on stuff they see in the media and things they experience IRL. But write fanfictions if it makes you happy. Sorry for the long story. 👈😅👈

[apostatefeverdream]

going absolutely fucking insane over solas dragonage. he used to be a spirit. he was meant to be bisexual. he hates tea but still drinks it. he murdered the two people he loved most in the world. he pissed magic once (maybe). he pondered an orb. he played strip poker with blackwall. he sundered the fade from the waking world. he created the blight. he sent bitchy letters to elgar'nan. he's great at chess but then lost to a random named after a chess piece. he co-parented a spirit. he murdered the other co-parent. he speaks in iambic pentameter. he imagines the sight of you being dominated would be fascinating. he ghosted his ex for a year and then yanked their arm off. he loves frilly cakes. his greatest fear is dying alone. he's bald.

[somerandomcockroach]

MY BRAIN IS FREE AND SURVIVED ON ADRENALINE AHHDASHGDAS 1) Rough animation with idw designs is fun. Blurr turned out to be easier than I thought (imagine animating Deadlock *shivers*) 2) Clean up and coloring is NOT.