#down with millennial gray

[witch-cottage]

This week end I have been quite busy! The front entrance was bugging me. There used to be many screws and nails embedded in the wood behind the paint, no to mention a set of hinges that have been there and unused for only the gods know how long. And believe me they where stuck like a rodent to a glue trap.

After removing the offending nails, screws, and hinges, I filled all the holes in with wood putty. When I woke up this morning, I anded everything and painted with the left over exterior paint the previous owner left me.

Taking these (see above) off and stripping them down was a challenge. I don’t think my paint remover was suted to the task. But oce stripped of the offensive excess paint, I decided they should match my front door.

I’m very pleased with how they are turning out so far.

I also made my own sourdough bread, and have started making my own ginger beer. It’s exciting to ferment my own things to eat and drink.

My peonies are also blooming beautifully! I never knew there where a variant of yellow peonies! They smell so wonderful!

[whyeverr]

Red Brick Ranch

This right here is my childhood Christmas: a wood paneling, artificial tree, opening presents on shaggy carpeted floors kind of Christmas. This particular simple ranch home isn't based on either of my grandparents' homes, but it might as well be. I've made divinity in that kitchen. I've watched the snow fall out that picture window.

Ranch homes get a lot of slack for their datedness and lack of character. But I'm here to defend them, especially at Christmas. In fact I almost called this one Rudolph the Red-Nosed Ranch, but that felt a little too on the nose. They might not be anyone's Pinterest-perfect dream home, but as home ownership becomes more and more unobtainable, a simple ranch starter home might just be your dream come true. That goes double for disabled folks, or older folks aging in place, as their single-story floor plan makes them one of the most accessible types of homes available!

This home might be perfect for: a single mom who works two jobs, grandparents (mine, specifically, but also maybe your sim's?), sims that use mobility aids, in your story or in actual gameplay, should we ever get such a thing, or developers looking to paint some brick, slap down millennial gray laminate floors, and flip this bad boy...

Lot details:

Lot Type: Residential (3 bed, 2 bath)

Price: §33,470

Size: 40x30

Location: Miner Mansion, Evergreen Harbor

I’ve used from all packs freely here. As always, no CC!

Download links and floor plans below the cut 🎄

Download via the Sims 4 Gallery or tray files via Sim File Share. You’re free to do whatever you want with the place but please don’t re-upload or share without credit. Thank you!

[marzipanandminutiae]

i adore sumptuous antique dolls and their trousseaus. please do talk of anything you know of them.

They're pretty and important and I felt deeply ripped off by Y2K-era doll culture when I read the description of The Last Doll in A Little Princess as a child:

"She sat down on the floor and turned the key. The children crowded clamoring around her, as she lifted tray after tray and revealed their contents. Never had the schoolroom been in such an uproar. There were lace collars and silk stockings and handkerchiefs;there was a jewel case containing a necklace and a tiara which looked quite as if they were made of real diamonds; there was a long sealskin [stole] and muff; there were ball dresses and walking dresses and visiting dresses; there were hats and tea gowns and fans."

The description of Emily, Sara's main doll, also sent me into transports of imagination:

"She certainly had a very intelligent expression in her eyes when Sara took her in her arms. She was a large doll, but not too large to carry about easily; she had naturally curling golden-brown hair, which hung like a mantle about her, and her eyes were a deep gray-blue with soft, thick eyelashes which were real eyelashes and not mere painted lines."

The only thing that came close to the idea of a Doll With Trousseau when I was a child- meaning that you could get all sorts of accessories for your doll beyond just clothing, almost everything a real person had -was the delight of the American Girl catalogue

LOOK AT ALL THE LITTLE THINGS. LOOK AT THEM. The pages for modern dolls had lots of treasures, too, and I pored over those as well- but that was Normal Clothing and therefore boring. not the fantastic, princess-like garments of the historical dolls (because that was the only reference point I had for Little Girls Who Wear Dresses All The Time; as a Millennial child, I grew up in jeans except on fancy occasions)

and they were good-quality, unlike what you get from AG today. but I digress

the problem with American Girl was that they weren't "pretty dolls," by which I meant Lady Dolls. child dolls only sort of interested me, baby dolls not at all. grown-up ladies from the past REALLY looked like princesses (even the poor ones! by which I meant "peasant" outfits worn by various Disney princesses, natch)

Barbie was nearing the end of the era where you could easily buy clothing for her in stores without buying a whole new doll. Bratz were entirely focused on modern fashion with no history or fantasy, and anyway I thought they looked mean. so that was a no-go

And Thus I Pined

I mean they truly had everything for these dolls in the late 19th-early 20th century- the dolls themselves were only half the revenue stream, with clothing making up the other half. or sometimes even more. have you ever wanted scented writing-paper for your dolls? that was a thing in late 1860s Paris. it was wild

go to a doll show sometime if you get the chance. those sales rooms are the closest you'll get to the experience of one of those fine old doll shops nowadays, and they're still pretty magical

This doll has a full six dresses (unfortunately not pictured) and a paragraph of accessories, typed, including a tiny etched glass perfume bottle to hang from her tiny chatelaine. it's so wonderful I'm going to punch a wall. anyway

[peach-top]

❝𝙑𝙄𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉❞

➤ ACT I. | CHAPTER I.

➤ FAERIE KINGDOM.

“Ah…It's good to see something green again…” [Y] sighed. “As the map says, I'm here at the Faerie Kingdom. Everything seems so beautiful here. It made me miss my old animal friends, Wind Archer Cookie, and Millennial Tree Cookie.”

The taller male noticed some spore-like creatures boing towards him. They're not animals. They seem like animals, but a completely different species. Although they seem cute and harmless. For now.

“Hello, little fellas…” [Y] kneeled down before the yeast spores. “I don't think I've seen you around before. Are you some new species…”

The yeast spores surrounded the taller male as he sat on the ground. [Y] took a moment to observe the spores. It's pretty neat to a different species in a different forest. He made the right choice coming to the Faerie Kingdom. However he doesn't see anyone around. It's quiet except he heard the chime of a bell nearby and he can sense an aura nearby, watching him.

“Excuse me. I can sense you from here. There's no need to hide, I mean no harm.” [Y] greeted the hidden cookie. A whitish gray haired short male stepped out from his hiding spot and pointed his arrow at the taller male, “Who are you and what are you doing trespassing on our kingdom?”

“I'm only on a journey to find myself. I'm [Y], a wanderer from the Millennial Tree Forest. I just left the Dark Cacao Kingdom.” [Y] introduced. Silverbell Cookie took a moment to observe the taller male and realized that he matched the description of what Elder Faerie Cookie describes to him.

“Ah. You're the one who Elder Faerie Cookie was waiting for!” Silverbell Cookie gasped.

“Hm? Elder Faerie…?” [Y] blinked bewilderingly.

The bell holder nodded, “Yeah. He ordered me to bring you before him. Please, follow me.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

“Hm. This is the last remaining flower left behind by him.” Elder Faerie Cookie mumbled as he watched the inverted flower shrieking at him through the sound-proof glass that the elder faerie sealed it in. “It's weak at the time, thankfully. It cannot attack or anything…”

“Elder Faerie Cookie, I brought him just like you ask.” Silverbell Cookie announced, grabbing the elder faerie's attention.

“Thank you, Silverbell. I would like to speak with him in private.” Elder Faerie Cookie commanded. Silverbell nodded and left the two be. The elder faerie turned his full attention on the taller male. Looking at him, he's different from how he used to be. All Elder Faerie could see is a pure soul with a heart of gold.

“...You’re [Y], are you not?” Elder Faerie asked. “Millennial Tree Cookie talk about you a lot.”

“I am. Millennial Tree did tell me about the Faerie Kingdom. This is my first time here in the kingdom…” [Y] said. “...And outside of the forest.”

“...”

“...Is something wrong? Am I making you uncomfortable?” The taller male asked.

“...Tell me, wanderer. Do you remember anything before giving a second chance?” The faerie questioned.

“Not particularly. I don't remember what happened when I was revived.” [Y] mumbled, crossing his arms.

“So his memories were erased completely. Good…” Elder Faerie sighed with relief. “Still…I'm afraid he'll awaken his power and the beasts…”

“Welcome to the Faerie Kingdom. Hope you enjoy your stay here at the kingdom. Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks. I will.” [Y] nodded before noticing the flower behind Elder Faerie Cookie. “Ah. That flower looks a little different than the lilies in the kingdom. What kind of flower is that?”

“I cannot tell the name of this flower, however I can tell that this is the last remaining flower that lives on here in the very spot.” Elder Faerie explained. “It's a dangerous flower. If it was to be released, it'll form more of the flowers and bring the kingdom to their fate.”

“Hm…?” Elder Faerie Cookie noticed the flower is no longer shrieking. “It stops. It could possibly mean that it recognizes its master even if he doesn't remember anything.”

“I see. I understand.” [Y] nodded with understanding. The elder faerie handed the glass seal over to the silver knight to take it back in place, “How about I give you a tour around the faerie kingdom?”

“Of course.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

“This is the library. The books are written in music notes.” Elder Faerie introduced the library to the taller male. [Y] perked up, “Oh, I know how to read it. I can read ancient languages and music notes.”

“Can't say I'm surprised. Millennial Tree has taught you a lot, hasn't it?” Elder Faerie questioned.

“Yes. I had to learn something before leaving the forest, didn't I?” [Y] inquired while checking out the books on the bookshelves. “I’ve read other books back at the Dark Cacao Kingdom after learning how to read foreign languages and write.”

“Is there anything you would like to read?” Elder Faerie asked.

“Hm…I’m not sure. They all seem like pretty good books, but it's hard to decide on which…” [Y] mumbled, feeling his brain overload while looking at the books. “...Big words…make my head hurt…”

“Seems like he's just an ordinary cookie for now. Millennial Tree really purity his memories of the corrupted past.” The elder faerie thought as he watched the taller male struggle to pick a book. [Y] perked up, “Ah. That's right. If I want to pick a book, then I should choose a book about the Faerie Kingdom. It's important to learn more before touring. Why overthink it???”

“...He’s such a silly cookie after all…” Elder Faerie sweatdropped.

╭ ⁞ ❏. facts

┊ ⁞ ❏. [y] feel proud of himself

┊ ⁞ ❏. [y] sometimes overthink things that it made his brain hurt

┊ ⁞ ❏. [y] made that tanjiro’s face if he tries to lie

➤ chapter o.

➤ chapter ii.

[buckets-and-trees]

Chosen, Part 7: Offering

Characters/Pairings: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 3.2k Summary: You have arrived at the altar, it is time for the offering, and you finally come face to face with James Buchanan Barnes.

SERIES Content Warnings: SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut, dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting, sleeping drugs

CHAPTER Content Warnings: cult elements - human offering for a ritual; light smut: intimate touching, teasing, breastplay, cum swapping/tasting, consent is mildly dubious; public nudity/on display for others; exhibitionism; herbal enhancement/explanation of herbal enhancement in the system

Notes: You might get some answers to some questions in this part... but I make no promises!

Previous: Procession | Series List

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In your final approach to the altar, you notice someone standing behind it, shrouded in shadows.

As you reach the dais, he steps forward into the moonlight. Your breath catches in your throat as you take him in.

Standing tall and commanding attention, his powerful build is cloaked in flowing black robes that only enhance the sense of strength emanating from him. He’s the only one in black. His longer, dark hair frames a face that can only be described as painfully handsome, with chiseled cheekbones and a strong jawline, covered with rugged stubble. But it's his eyes that truly captivate you. Piercing blue orbs locked onto yours, sending an electric current through your body. With his intense gaze, he seems to see right through you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in his presence.

This is James Buchanan Barnes, the enigmatic founder you've heard so many whispers of and have so many questions about.

James' eyes never leave yours, but as you draw closer, you notice something glinting behind him in the moonlight. Just over his left shoulder, there’s a gleam of blue-ish black that pulls your focus for a brief instant, eyes departing from his, before going right back. He tilts his chin slightly, and you sense he’s interpreting your momentary distraction.

The stone altar, though simple, is intimidating by virtue of its purpose. It sits on a raised dais, bathed in moonlight. You start to see that the dais and altar are both adorned with intricate carvings and inlaid with what looks like moonstone. Candles flicker around its base, casting dancing light and shadows that intermingle with the glowing orbs Steve and others have brought with them.

Steve and Natasha guide you to stand at the foot of the dais before the altar, facing James. The circle of masked figures presses closer behind you, their soft humming growing in intensity, the air thick with anticipation.

James raises his hands, and silence falls over the gathering.

“Welcome,” he announces simply. His voice is deep and resonant, carrying easily through the clearing as he commands the attention of everyone assembled. His eyes sweep meaningfully over everyone, before they lock back on you, and the energy in your body surges again. You wonder if everyone else is so affected by his stare.

He’s nothing short of captivating.

"Step forward," he commands softly, eyes fixed only on you.

Steve and Natasha gently direct you to stand before the altar. Your legs feel timid as you ascend the few steps to the dais. As you draw closer, so does he, his robes trailing behind him. He looks down at you, his intense gaze never waver, and you can see his eyes more clearly - a swirling mix of blue and gray that seems to shift in the moonlight.

"Do you understand why you are here?"

You give a single, slow nod, not ready to test your voice in this moment.

"You have been brought here by my envoys to participate in an ancient ritual," he continues.

“Envoys,” he says, briefly looking past you to Steve and Natasha, “you may present this human oblation.”

Natasha and Steve swiftly ascend the steps behind you, coming to stand on either side of you once more.

“We bring this soul as an offering for the ritual,” Steve says, loud enough for everyone in the clearing to hear, “an offering to celebrate your power and glory, an offering to further your noble pursuit to reclaim your destiny.”

The two then move with practiced grace, their hands reaching for the ties of your cloak, and together they loosen it.

“She has been chosen and prepared with diligent care,” Natasha speaks, “and we, the appointed envoys among your devotees, present her not only as an offering for the traditional ritual of this full moon, but believe her a worthy oblation for the rites of elim, at your discretion.”

As they speak, a knot forms in your stomach, tightening with each word, your trepidation flaring back up.

In a swift motion, they pull the cloak away from your shoulders, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

But now in only the delicate chemise, it’s not the rest of the crowd assembled that you worry about seeing you like this, only him.

Your heart pounds in your chest as his eyes roam over you, especially knowing there's nothing underneath the midnight blue silk and lace, and the slits feel dangerously higher than they did before. His gaze lingers over the curves of your body, and you swear a small smile plays at the corner of his lips.

“What say those assembled? Could she be elim?”

That word again - elim.

Behind you there are murmurs of assent.

“Then place your oblation on the altar,” he says.

Your envoys step closer. Natasha leans in close and lightly touches your elbow. “Step out of your sandals,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Steve extends his hand to help you onto the immaculate surface of the table. The surface is smooth and cool to the touch. It’s a masterpiece of craftsmanship, with intricate designs of gold and moonstone adorning its surface. It gleams in the bright light of the full moon, and you feel a sense of awe wash over you as you climb up onto its surface. Instinctively, you sense that should kneel and sit back on your heels. You fold your hands softly in your lap, then lift your gaze once again to the founder.

“Are there eleven among you who will seal their witness on her behalf?”

Your pulse races.

What does that mean?

Why eleven?

And what does it entail?

But grace and confidence, Natasha steps forward and says, “I present this offering and seal my witness for her ascent to elim.” Tenderly, she places a finger below your chin and gently turns your head towards hers. Her warm lips press against your right cheek in a soft, lingering kiss. The moment feels sacred and powerful, as if the entire world has stopped to bear witness to this act. You can feel the weight of her act, solidifying your journey down this unknown path.

Steve moves to your other side as Natasha steps back. Steve takes a deep breath and says, “I, too, present this offering and seal my witness for her ascent to elim,” before turning your head and leaning in to press a his kiss to your left cheek. His lips feel slightly chapped against your skin, and you can smell the mint of his breath as he pulls away.

Then others step forward, one by one, alternating between the right or left cheek - right for the women, left for the men, but their words are slightly different, each of them saying, “I affirm the offering and seal my witness for her ascent to elim.”

Yelena, Thor, Sam, Bruce, Wanda, Scott… These are all people you met at some point through this process.

Their witnessing vows happen steadily, without pause, but you can’t stave off the next worry that enters your mind…

What if eleven people don’t seal their witness?

As the witnessing continues, you find yourself overwhelmed by the sensations and emotions coursing through you. Each kiss, though chaste, feels intensely intimate in this charged atmosphere. The warmth of their lips against your skin, the softness of some and the roughness of others, touches on your arm or shoulder or back as they seal their witness, the subtle scents of each person as they lean in close - it all blends together in a heady mix that leaves you dizzy.

The one thing you grasp onto is counting the witnesses, and after the eleventh, you hold your breath, and look back to James.

During the witnessing, you realize, Steve and Natasha have taken up positions at James' sides. Steve stands to his right, his posture straight and proud, while Natasha flanks his left, her stance graceful yet alert. They form a striking trio, their energy palpable even from where you kneel on the altar. The moonlight and the orbs cast an ethereal glow around the trio, making them appear almost otherworldly.

The clearing has fallen into an expectant hush, the only sounds the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.

James steps forward, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze is relentless, and you feel heat rise up your neck. He reaches out, his hand hovering just above your cheek where the last witness sealed their kiss. You can feel the warmth radiating from his palm.

"The witnesses have spoken," he speaks, his voice low and resonant. "You have been deemed worthy of the rites of elim."

Your breath catches in your throat as his hand finally makes contact with your skin. His touch is electric, sending sparks coursing through your body. You lean into it instinctively, craving more of that intoxicating connection.

"Do you accept this honor?" he asks, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

You swallow hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you reply, "Yes."

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips. "Then let us truly begin."

He draws away from you and begins to circle the altar, and begins to speak, louder for everyone assembled to hear every word. “You kneel on this alter, chosen and prepared, deemed worthy by eleven witnesses of my devotees.”

His voice is rich and warm and alluring. There are echoes of thoughts you think you should be having, wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into, whether or not you’ll be safe - or alive - come sunrise, what the ritual will entail - but they’re all so muted and fleeting, unable to compete with his oratory prowess.

“But now it is now mine to determine whether you are to be elim or only an offering. Regardless of my judgement, the ritual demands your body as a willing sacrifice to me in the light of the full moon. As an offering I will consume energy from your pleasure and then send you away with no memory of this night; but if I deem you to be worthy to the elevation of elim, you will be bound to me for eternity.”

He’s circled you twice while he spoke, and stands in front of you now.

“Are you ready?”

He’s larger than most men, his stature tall, shoulders broad, chest colossal, and arms and what you can see of his legs thick with corded muscle. He would be dangerous given his mere physical presence, but coupled with his enigmatic charisma, and the power radiating off him? Impossible, unthinkable to resist.

And a growing part of you does not want to.

You nod.

He leans forward, placing his palms on the altar, coming closer to you. “Spread your legs for me,” he commands.

You bite your lip, but slowly, you obey.

As you part your knees, the chemise slides up your thighs, revealing more of your soft skin to James' intense gaze. His eyes flicker down, taking in the sight of you, before locking back onto your face. A small, pleased smile plays at his lips.

"Good," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that shoots heat through your veins.

Without breaking eye contact, James reaches out and trails his fingers along the inside of your thigh. His touch is feather-light, barely there, but it leaves a trail of fire in its wake. You can't help the small gasp that escapes your lips.

"Sensitive," he observes, his smile widening slightly. "That's very good."

His hand continues its journey upward, pushing the chemise higher as he goes. When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, his fingers caressing the crease at the juncture of your hip, but not going to the spot where you’re aching to be touched, and you whimper.

He chuckles. “Not yet.”

James' fingers continue to tease along your inner thighs, never reaching where you desperately want him to. The anticipation builds with each caress, and your body starts to tremble. You struggle to keep still, your breath coming in short gasps.

"Patience," he murmurs, his voice low and hypnotic. "We have a little time yet before the full moon reaches its apex."

He leans in closer, his lips barely brushing your ear as he speaks, and these words are only for you. "Tell me, do you want this? Do you want me?"

The heat of his breath against your skin makes you weak. You can only manage a breathy "Yes" in response.

James pulls back slightly, his piercing gaze locking with yours once more. There's a hunger in his eyes that makes your heart race. Slowly, deliberately, he brings his hand up to cup your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“Put your hand between your legs and show us all what’s there. I can smell it,” he assures you, “but I want everyone to see how ripe you are with desire - especially you.”

Your pulse quickens at his instruction. Though part of you feels exposed and vulnerable, another part thrills at the idea of obeying him, of showing him just how affected you are. With trembling fingers, you reach down between your legs.

The moment your fingers make contact with your slick folds, a soft moan escapes your lips. You're wetter than you realized, your arousal coating your fingers as you part your labia. The cool night air hits your exposed flesh, making you shiver.

James' eyes darken as he watches you, his gaze intense and hungry. "That's it," he murmurs approvingly. "Show me how ready you are."

With trembling fingers, you raise your hand, presenting it to him. The assembled crowd murmurs in appreciation, but you barely notice them. Your focus is entirely on James, on the way his eyes devour you. He catches your wrist gently but firmly, bringing your fingers to his lips. His tongue darts out, tasting your essence, and a jolt of electricity courses through you.

"Exquisite," he murmurs, releasing your wrist. “Now taste yourself.”

Your heart races as you bring your fingers to your lips, hesitating for just a moment before parting them. The scent of your own arousal fills your nostrils, musky and sweet. Slowly, you extend your tongue, tasting yourself. The flavor blooms across your taste buds - tangy, slightly salty, with an underlying sweetness that surprises you. You close your eyes, savoring the sensation as you suck your fingers clean.

“Have you tasted yourself before?” he asks, and you give a small nod. “But tonight your nectar tastes different, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Your system has taken well to the essence of the Luna’s Tears,” he explains, tracing one of the blooms in your flower crown. “It was in your water at lunch, in your tea, in the oils of your bath.”

Your jaw drops slightly, a rush of thoughts barraging your mind at this revelation.

“It soothes and primes those offered up for the ritual. But your body has become attuned to it in a potency we’ve never seen before. I’ve smelled it in the pheromones of others, but never in the slick dripping from a cunt.”

James's eyes burn with intensity as he continues, his voice low and husky. "Your body craves it now. Craves me. The Luna's Tears have awakened something primal within you."

You feel a rush of heat course through your body at his words. Part of you wants to deny it, to resist this pull, but you can't. Your body is humming with need, every nerve ending alive and tingling.

"Now, let's see just how responsive you've become," he says, his voice low and commanding.

James' hand descends to your chest. His touch is feather-light at first, tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone. Then, with agonizing slowness, he trails his fingers down to the swell of your breasts. The thin silk of your chemise does little to dull the sensation of his calloused fingertips against your soft skin.

James' hand cups the gentle curve of your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the thin fabric. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

"So responsive," he murmurs approvingly. "Let's see how you react to this."

With a swift motion, he pulls down the top of your chemise, exposing your breasts to the cool night air. Your nipples harden instantly, and you shiver, from the chill, from knowing you’re exposed for many in the clearing to see, but most of all from the intensity of James' gaze.

He leans in, his breath hot against your skin, and takes one nipple into his mouth. The warmth of his tongue contrasts sharply with the cool air, and you gasp at the sensation. His teeth graze lightly over the sensitive bud, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

Suddenly James retreats, and you can't help but feel a mix of relief and disappointment. He steps back, his eyes still locked on yours, and begins to slowly undo the fastenings of his robe. Your breath catches as more of his sculpted chest is revealed with each movement.

“True and noble followers,” he says, tone loud and resonant, “my judgement aligns with those who bore witness, and she will be elevated to elim.”

The few dozen around you begin to hum and murmur again, the words of a song in an ancient tongue.

You bite your lip, and he inclines his head, scrutinizing you.

“A question burns in your mind,” he assesses. “Ask it.”

You wonder if he can he read your mind by some supernatural power, or if has he learned to read you already. You put all your effort into keeping your voice even as the the words, “What is elim?” fall from your mouth.

"Oh, sweet girl," James says, his voice a low, rich timbre that sends a shiver down your spine. "Elim is a sacred bond, an eternal connection between myself and a chosen few. It's a destiny reserved for those who prove themselves worthy, those whose essence resonates with mine in a way that transcends the physical realm."

As he speaks, the others continue their song, and he continues to disrobe, revealing more of his chiseled physique. Your eyes are drawn to the play of muscles under his skin, the way the moonlight casts shadows across his broad chest and defined abdomen.

"Through this ritual, you will become more than just an offering," he continues. "You will be transformed, elevated to a higher state of being. Your body, your mind, your very soul will be attuned to me in ways you cannot yet comprehend."

The robe falls away completely now, pooling at his feet. He stands for another moment, the song of his followers crescendoing, and when they reach the climax of the refrain, he claps his hands together, there’s a streak of lightning across the sky, and the blue light of the orbs extinguishes completely. A hush falls over the clearing, now bathed only in the bright moonlight and the scattered groups of candles around the dais.

“It is time,” he proclaims, extending his arms wide, and your heart truly stops as he finally reveals himself.

NEXT PART: BINDING

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I mean... oh, sorry to leave you hanging there!

Thoughts? Threats? Theories?

SEE YOU THURSDAY! go to the chapter

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

It still kind of blows my mind that it's 29 years ago since my grandfather, two aunts, my mom, my uncle, the pharmacist and her treating doctor had to harass state health insurance to testify that my great-aunt would benefit from an at-home blood sugar meter, even if she didn't have type 1, as opposed to going to the doctor 3-5 times a day to have it measured. The thing was the size and weight of a brick, took several drops of blood to read, and the test strips were the size of my grade schooler pinky. It was accurate...ish. Text was gray on Nintendo screen green, and about the size of Arial 10. Three people were schooled on how to use it, in case it was necessary while she was unconscious. She had to pay for it herself as a pensioner who had never worked, and the entire family chipped in to make it happen, before they got on more of a first name basis with the ambulance drivers than they already were, what with there being just-in-case pastries in the house daily to "make sure those boys ate lunch".

Today I have my own blood sugar meter that I bought for less than 10 bucks "just in case". I've lost test strips down the back of the sofs and never had to be horrified about how much money I'd just wasted. My doctor just read out my hb1c value from a pinprick of blood in less than 2 minutes. The second I need constant monitoring, I'll get CGM sensors that work with my phone, paid out by insurance.

Most millennials are older than the concept of all kinds of diabetes being able to be monitored reliably, easily and affordably at home. It feels kinda unreal.

[forthegothicheroine]

Do you have any gothic novels that you can recommend off the top of your head? Especially to people who want to try their hand at the genre? I've hit a wall in my project and I need to get some fresh inspiration, but I don't know where to start and the book side of tumblr failed me the last time I tried asking them for recs

Hell yeah! I made some old posts for this a while back, but it's good to look at it again with my more recent taste! Let's see...

Classic Gothics

Dracula: The one, the only. Often imitated, never equalled.

Frankenstein: Short, sad and world changing! Can get a little slow at parts, but definitely worth it. (True story, my parents read this to me as a fetus to calm my kicking, so it's part of my personal mythology!)

The Case of Charles Dexter Ward: The most gothic of Lovecraft's work, and possibly my favorite. Novella length, usually found in collections.

The Picture of Dorian Gray: Sinister, sexy, philosophical, with a main character I want to punch in the face!

Carmilla: Another novella, about as lush and swooning as vampire stories get.

The Hound of the Baskervilles: A very readable gothic mystery.

Confessions of a Justified Sinner: This one isn't as action packed, but if you have big religious issues like me, it's incredibly haunting.

The Monk: Like the above, but sleazier and crazier!

Northanger Abbey: A gentle parody of early gothics, starring an adorable proto-goth girl.

The Italian: I'll be honest, I find Anne Radcliffe kind of a slog, but if you liked Northanger Abbey and want to read what Catherine Morland reads, this is probably the most accessible.

A Long Fatal Love Chase: This starts as campy and then takes a plunge into gut-wrenchingly intense. The book Jo March was always trying to write!

The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: Another novella, and Stevenson is one of the best writers out there for excitement!

The Werewolf of Paris: Gothic monster as serial killer, still scary today.

Rebecca: The foundation of all gothic romance to come afterwards. A ghost story without a ghost, with an ending that's still debated as happy or sad!

Jane Eyre: The other foundation of all gothic romance to come afterwards. I bounced off the child abuse-heavy beginning a few times, but I'm very glad I finally read to the good stuff!

The Castle of Otranto: Considered the first gothic novel, a goofy b-movie in written form.

Modern-ish Gothics (post-1950 or so)

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein: Fuck the haters, I love this book.

Mexican Gothic: Genuinely scary, genuinely romantic, genuinely creative. A favorite.

Blackwater: A southern gothic saga of a family in a flooded town, whose scion marries a woman who isn't quite human. A whirlwind ride!

A Bloodsmoor Romance: Another family saga, this one northern gothic, with sisters whose lives all go off the rails in different supernatural ways. Give this a try before writing Joyce Carol Oates off entirely!

The Silver Devil: A nasty, problematic bodice ripper where you'll cheer for the heroine to bring the hero down low!

Interview with the Vampire: To be honest again, I'm not super into Anne Rice, but this is a page-turner, and every vampire book that has come after it has had to respond to it in one way or another. Read the next two Vampire Chronicles books if you like it!

A Taste of Blood Wine: My own preferred sexy vampire romance!

The Bloody Chamber: The ultimate dark sexy fairy tale work, accept no substitutes.

Haunted Castles: Contains the brilliant novella Sardonicus, as well as some other campy gothic stories!

A Great and Terrible Beauty: Many millennials were introduced to the gothic genre via this, Fear Street Sagas, or A Series of Unfortunate Events. This is my favorite of the three, though the sequels are a bit of a letdown.

Gormenghast: This series is a throwback to the pseudo-medieval, Otranto-style gothic, but much better. Don't read Titus Alone.

[mariacallous]

Random thought, but the loudest media voices, the Pod boys, Vox people, Nate Sliver etc and to an extent even some of the Congress turn counts (Seth Moulton is what clarified what I'm about to say) are GenX and elder Millennials and like I was around (as a younger millennial with older siblings so I saw the pop culture through them) in the 1990s and early 2000s and there was just a huge fixation of youth which there *always* is I know, but it was aggressive in a way I don't know that it always is you know? and I wonder how much of their total melt down freak out about Biden being in public as a very normal older man is them facing down the barrel of their own aging and mortality? they're in their 40s and now 50s the gray hair, failing hair lines and joint pains are in full effect and this unhinged agism isn't just a weird kind of self loathing

also I think it can't be overstated how much the pop culture of say the 1990s through to like 2010 was about being transgressive and offensive and the cultural moment we when through in the late Obama and Trump years of being very sensitive (sometimes too much) and resentment 47 year old white men have that its no longer "funny" to make a joke about a black lesbian or whatever is effecting the current political moment (past just Biden Drop out fever)

[iceclew]

(sorry for horrible grammar - it's 2 am, and I don't know why I am even adding this lol)

"...So the greatest vampire of the millennial is granting us a visit... quite the honor I say...?"

The grim look on his face was replaced with a fake mocking smile - very intentionally showing of the gleaming pair of fangs.

"Get out of my way, Hoshina. You know I am not dealing with second-hand scum like your kind. I have matters to settle with your master. So stay down on your rug and don't waste my time.."

Hoshina giggled, as his guest took a few steps forward, eyes locked on the gateway behind him. The candles in the floor shimmered lightly, shifting their colours to a cold blue for a blink of an eye, unnaturally bright for their size.

Narumi Gen was a more than capable vampire. An exceptional talent in his ranks. Many praising him to be the best of his kind. To his suprise even he hadn't been able to recognize the other presence around.

Only when the "rug" started moving ever so slightly, slowly revealing more and more teeth on a light gray skull, his attention was drawn back again.

"Impressive, right?" Hoshina emptied the rest of his glass and kept his eyes locked on their intruder while a beast of remarkable size seemed to unfold behind him.

"...debatable. But...interesting, I'll admit..." Narumi frowned. "Well at least that explains the rumors about most your... recent "activities" in the regions villages.....former villages that is... Apparently your pet cannot only be discreet but also... very effective.."

Meanwhile two bright blue eyes glared at the intruder, fixing his every move, seemingly ready to strike on command.

Hoshina let out a light-hearted little laugh. "Nah come on, that's unfair Narumi." He gently scratched the skull of the monsterous creature next to him, as if to emphasize the comment about his pet. "Actually he's a very gentle soul, you know?"

Blue eyes still glaring.

"U-huh...friendly like a puppy... One might as well adopt him..." Narumi deadpanned.

"Of course he's friendly, silly!" Another giggle. "I'll take good care of him, there's no need for your concern."

Hoshina's way of sweet chattering was regularly getting on his nerves. Just as always Narumi began to lose his patience. "A pity." Narumi groaned as he stroke back his bangs to reveal his as well, brightly glowing pair of eyes now piercing back at them. "I was hoping we could get to know each other properly, you know?"

With noticable echo over the halls the gate behind them opened.

"I suggest we postpone that offer of yours for now. It is not our intention to disturb your appointment."

With the empty wine glass Hoshina made a last inviting gesture.

"After you, Narumi."

-----------

Halloween is one our toes, guys!! 👻💀

*running after my dogs with white sheets* Let's play ghost dogs, guys! Let the trend never die!!!

Time to revive the Vamp AU! <3

No text version, description + "warm candle-light" version below

I came up with several outline ideas.. and while I was drawing I was very eager to record all my work with the timelaps feature in CSP.. except for when I didn't anymore...... I am very shhhmmmart!!! (థ౪థ)... so now sorry no WIP timelaps...

<- it was basically just a lightning/shading try-out...and then I ended up keeping it, cause *mad scientist laughing* THAT IS WHAT I DO, I DO MADNESS HERE!!! ( ◣∀◢)ψ But I am sucha simp for magenta/blue colour palettes... and it was more comfortable to look at. But the warmer look has its own appeal to it aswell..... I can't decide...

[isbahstudio]

🌸 Building Your Ideal Wardrobe

🌸 Dressing well is not just about fashion or looks. Dressing well helps us define our identity. It is a way to control the narrative of perception. Dressing well is an energy.

However, many struggle to dress well.

🌸 This is because of a few reasons:

- They struggle to buy coordinating pieces.

- They buy into microtrends.

- They don't have enough elevated basics.

- Or they have too many basics and not enough statement pieces.

- Or they have way too many clothes.

🌸 Here's how you can revamp your wardrobe!

🌸 1) Start off by defining your style. Narrow down your style into a few adjectives.

look on Pinterest, social media, and other online sources for inspiration.

Save outfit photos that inspire you and are practical for your everyday wear.

Pinpoint all the similarities in the photos.

Are there alot of neutrals?

Are most of the outfits built on a certain style of jeans?

Do most of the outfits have some statement piece?

🌸 2) Go shopping. You don't have to break the bank if you start accumulating your new wardrobe slowly and strategically. Look into thrift shops, online sales, clearances in physical stores, etc.

Buy quality clothes!

It is better to have good quality fabrics than have tons of clothes made of cheap fabrics.

At the very least look for cotton blends.

Ditch the polyester blends! They overheat the body and do not give off a refined finish.

Collect pieces you see most commonly repeated in your inspo photos.

Ex: a specific style of jeans, cardigans, specific style of tops, etc.

🌸 3) Choose a color palette & versatile pieces!

You do not have to opt for the dull millennial grays or the subdued beiges that are trending.

Keep your basics neutral and buy statement pieces or layering pieces in your favorite colors!

For ex: a white frilly top can be paired with a pink cardigan or a sage green vest. You can use blue denim jeans for the pink outfit and black jeans for the green outfit.

You have two completely different outfits rotating the same top!

Be creative and resourceful!

🌸 4) Get rid of the clutter! Donate or sell the clothes you don't find yourself reaching for.

This will give your closet a breather and give you space to add in new pieces.

🌸 5) Buy clothes that feel comfortable!

You may think a top or dress is cute even if it is a bit uncomfy. You'll convince yourself that you'll wear it anyway.

Truth is you won't. You naturally will not reach for it on a day to day basis.

Find out what cuts and fabrics work for you and stick to them!

🌸 6) Keep your wardrobe interesting by investing in unique accessories. Scarves, belts, purses, and jewlery, can totally alter an outfit.

🌸 7) Incorporate your own touch!

You can draw inspiration from many sources. But do not become a carbon copy of what you see online. Add your own touch. Add your own details.

Allow your personality to stand out!

[mjrtaurus]

What I imagine the Monkey D Family would dress up as for Halloween!

Kuzan: Standard old man sleepwear fit! Complete with nightgown, cap, fake candlestick and a pillowcase to carry his sweets! He got booed by Dadan, she said it was just an excuse for him to wear pyjamas outside. He agreed, smugly saying that’s exactly why he chose it! He could go from trick or treating to napping in a snap with this outfit! He ends up with most candy by the end of the night.

Dadan: She goes for a classic: Little Red Riding Hood! She’s got a crimson cape, basket for her future haul and also a metal pipe that given to her by Urpi. It was gifted with clear instructions to only be used against creeps and weirdos. Bullies and other assorted candy thieves were a fists issue. Kuzan told her how she nailed the costume and she was practically floating on air before he continued how her trying to be cute was certainly the scariest thing he’d see tonight. She almost brought out the pipe but restrained and began to chase her little brother around instead.

Dragon: Little man spent atleast half of October debating his costume before ultimately decided to be a literal Dragon! He designed his costume himself and eager for every costume fitting. He didnt get booed by his siblings. They wanted to but he looked so happy with his outfit they couldn’t. He does however get called Dragon the Dragon all throughout the night and next morning.

Garp: As the escort for the night, Garp decided to go big! And by big, he means his full military uniform that he almost never wears! The hat, all his medals polished and shining on his chest, the whole shebang. He was expecting some grumbles but being hit with a trio of boos was a new one. They complained (rightfully) that he’s not even wearing a costume and how he’s besmirching the good name of Hallow's eve! Nothing a little playful roughhousing couldn’t fix though.

Urpi: She won the very unofficial Monkey D costume contest when she waltz though the doorway in full piratical gear. Knee high boots, sash around the waist and a tricorn fit for a captain! The kids loved it and Garp was a mixture of mortified and flustered. She knelt down to eye level and reminded her kids of that no candy was to be eaten before she got a chance to check it over. They pinky swore it and she sent them off with a kiss into the night.

Oho… Garpi as the ever so forbidden Marine and pirate duo… I can hear Gol D Roger’s jealousy from here.

Kuzan was sound asleep about halfway through the trick-or-treating rounds yet still got so much more candy than his siblings. Madness. It was the sleepy little face and the adorable little yawns and eye rubs that did it. It was too cute. He was weaponizing it.

Dadan was an adorable little sight in her little dress and red cloak. Garp said it needed on final touch. A wolf pelt. A literal actual wolf pelt from one of their hunting trips to the mountains. Garp said it was to tell all the other Big Bad Wolves not to mess with her. She loved it.

And Dragon, sweet, adorable, precious Dragon. He didn’t just dress up as just any old dragon, he dressed up as a millennial dragon. Now the only rules of that were that he could only use his own feathers if they were already shed. He followed along behind Dadan looking more like a ball of teal and gray fluff than the actual beast itself, but it was adorable. Absolutely adorable.

There are snail photos hanging on the walls.

[mxltifxnd0m]

I'M LATE BUT I WANTED TO DO THE CHARACTER ASK GAME WITH YOUUUU !!

i'm gonna ask a shit ton sorry not too sorry because i just love when you talk about things and i'm selfish and in love with you!!!!

5, 6, 9, 12, 13, 14, and 21 with sammy ???

bonus answer any of those questions you want about isaac !! (idk if i ever said this but i had a huge crush on him as a kid when my sister was obsessed with teen world would explain the whole entire plot of it in detail to me every night before bed LMAO)

character ask game !: [send something in my inbox and ill answer honestly]

ARGHH I LOVE YOU MARI SO MUCH (be as selfish as you want hehe) <33

(im going to answer for both of them bc i love both so much and OMG??? you're so real for crushing on isaac bc SAME i love stiles as well but isaac 😩😩 why are we literally the same/made for each other??)

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

sammy: ooh summer child by conan gray or a little death by the neighborhood isaac: daddy issues by the neighborhood or j's lullaby (darlin' i'd wait for you) by delaney bailey

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

sammy: errr i would say my passion to learn about obscure topics or the amount of sass we have isaac: the way we both care a lot of about our friends/ our loyalty to the people who we love

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

sammy: ooh i think to a certain extent i could but sam feels like the type to leave dishes in the sink and id probably get irritated at him for it LOL isaac: i feel like he'd be a good roommate but would have a habit of not taking his shoes off in the apartment

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

sammy: i have plenty in my head but i have one where he actually had a birthmark at the base of his spine that foreshadowed his first death at the end of season 2 but disappeared after he was brought back :) isaac: that he still kept in contact with the pack after he left to france at the end of season 3B 🙃 (i have so many thoughts and feelings about isaac not coming back for the rest of the show because we were ROBBED)

13. What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

sammy: ooh the emojis that remind me of him is probably these ones: 🧩🩸🍁☕️🎻 also i don't think sam would use emojis while texting he might just use emoticons or if hes gonna use emojis, he uses them like a millennial 💀 (i feel like we forget that sam is in fact a millennial LOL) isaac: the emojis that remind me of isaac: 🐺🐚💐🌕🌀 but i don't think isaac would use emojis either but if he had to it would be this specific combo 😐😑😐 (idk why it feels like isaac to me lmaoo)

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

sammy: if we're talking like a modern stanford era sam, then like downtown boy or dark academia for mr. law boy loll isaac: ooh isaac was hard to pin down but i have to say like downtown boy or maybe even soft boy (im thinking grandpa sweaters)

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

sammy: mmm my fav thing to do when im writing for sam is probably writing his mannerisms that i've noticed when watching the show or describing how absolutely gorgeous he is @_@ then my least favorite thing as of late is writing dialogue for him like idk why but he's been sounding ooc to me when i write him T_T isaac: my fav thing to do when writing for isaac is exploring his personality more in depth, i haven't written a lot for him just yet but i still want to explore his character (because the writers didn't) so idc if he seems ooc in the potential fics i write LOL i don't really anything that isn't my least favorite thing to write since i haven't written for him that much, but that'll change soon! (i just have to get out of my sammy brain rot just the tiniest bit)

ARGHH THANKS FOR SENDING THIS IN MARI I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT AND FOR LETTING ME YAP ABOUT MY LOVES (other than you ofc <33)

[belit0]

Grandpa on the run

Indra refuses to believe his age disables him from fulfilling his only goal in life. I've been thinking about this for a long time and I just find lovely the fact Indra's blindness makes him work with Ashura, accidentally.

“I must kill Ashura.... Ashura, Ashura! Where is Ashura!”

Indra Otsutsuki grumbles to the air as the millennial anger against his brother continues to boil inside him.

“Ashura? Oh! I’ve heard that name somewhere... I know the guy! Come on, I’ll help you find him!”

A cheerful voice shouts next to his ear, as a hand unsuspectingly grips his elbow and starts guiding him who-knows-where.

“What’s your name, kind gentleman?”

This voice asks chattily.

“Are you ignorant of me, you foolish piece of trash? I am Indra, fearsome tyrant, straight out of hell for-“

“Who are we looking for?”

Legit is the question, that much is certain, for the doubt in whoever’s tone of voice guiding him is real.

“Ashura. Ashura Otsutsuki.”

“Oh! I know that guy! I think I’ve heard this name somewhere... come on, I’ll help you find him!”

And the direction they walk in changes drastically, turning 180 degrees and retracing those steps they just took.

Indra’s groans and slurred words left by all the way are countless, while his guide sings a friendly song about the moon.

A song his own grandmother used to sing to him as a child.

“Who are you?”

The voice asks for the tenth time and the Otsutsuki’s patience becomes thin.

“Indra! Greatest villain of all time! Best-“

“And what are we doing?”

“Looking for my brother!”

“Who is your brother?”

“Ashura Otsutsuki!”

“Oh! I know that guy! He’s got gray hair and uses a cane, right? “

“I don’t know, you idiot!”

“I used to have a brother! He hated me!”

“I hate you too!”

“That’s okay!"

Indra deduces they somehow made it to a house by how the wood sounds under the soles of their sandals.

“There! There! It’s him! Ashura Ashura Ashura! We found him!”

“What are you waiting for? Kill him for me! In the name of Indra! Strongest one-“

The clatter of shattering glass sounds throughout the room as a mirror collapses in front of them both.

Two pairs of footsteps run down the hallway to meet the Otsutsuki brothers, who are standing in front of a broken mirror.

Izuna speaks first, trying to catch his breath after rushing at top speed behind his escaping grandfather.

“Fucking Tobirama! Take better care of your bag of bones! He might hurt my gramps!”

The Senju looks at him in disbelief, while breathing with the same difficulty as his rival.

"Just because your relative is blind doesn’t justify his idiocy, you fool! My grandfather suffers from memory loss and so you know it! Keep your piece of history away from mine!”

Both young men hold their respective elders by the shoulders, pushing them away from each other.

“Get your hands off me, you cursed child!” Indra shouts angrily towards the nearest wall, figuring that’s where Izuna is.

Life has been an agonizing ordeal since he lost his eyes, and at 80 years old, he’s a pain in the ass for the entire family.

“What a cute kid! I like your white hair! Do I know you?”

Ashura asks happily and innocently as his youngest grandson guides him, his cane holding him.

“Yes, grandfather. You know me. I think so. “

[batsaboutbats]

Gen Z, with a gun in my face: Put the Gray down.

Me, a Millennial with crippling depression: No :c

I can't take a bunch of loud colors in my living space, gray is calming, gray is cool, gray is my aura. Ya'll didn't grow up in a dookie brown house plastered in babyshit green wallpaper and only the Roseanne couch to rest your tushy on and it shows. :\

[invisiblefoxfire]

we aren’t actually allowed to belong to the places we live.

Fuck, this is so true. I've been feeling it hard lately. We moved around quite a bit when I was a kid and no one place ever really felt like "home" - and trauma destroyed any sense of connection I might have had to the places I lived longest as a kid.

The place I lived in longest as an adult was a tiny apartment in my current city in Europe. 20 square meters (about 215 sq ft). It was furnished when I moved in with hideous old communist furniture that I wasn't allowed to get rid of. The carpet was a thin layer of industrial-grade gray. The walls were plain white. I wasn't allowed to paint them.

When I moved to my current apartment a little over a year ago, it was unfurnished. I was excited to finally make a place feel like home.

I bought some new furniture from IKEA. Black or dark brown, since white depresses me. There's nothing colorful. I tried filling the Kallax shelves with bright, interesting stuff, but somehow it still feels cold and miserable in here.

The floors. They're crumbling. The landlord has never done any maintenance on this place. The linoleum in the kitchen is full of holes I had to tape over. The presumably once-lovely wood parquet floor in the living/bedroom is covered in scratches and scuff marks, with gaps between the wooden slats. It's not even properly lacquered and any liquid spilled on the floor is immediately soaked up. The landlord won't fix the floors, and I can't afford to.

The sliding glass door in my stand-up shower doesn't fit the base. There's always a gap. Water is constantly leaking out. I'm constantly trying to keep the floors dry. Mold keeps growing in the corners. The tiles are chipped. The grout is stained. The doors don't close properly. Everything is slapped together, the wrong size, the wrong shape, nothing matches. I can't afford to renovate the place, and the landlord refuses.

And the walls. When I moved in I was excited to paint the walls a bright color. But I don't plan to live here any longer than I have to (it's cold, dark, and loud here, and I want to move somewhere I can grow plants) and it's in my lease that when I move out, I have to pay to repaint the walls white. And that'll be more expensive if they're a darker color that has to be removed first.

I'm an elder millennial. I'll never own property. I'll never own a house, probably not even an apartment. And what I'm allowed to do to my living space will always depend on what the landlord puts in the lease.

There is nowhere in the world that feels like "home" to me. Nowhere I belong to. Just a few fragments of memories of a tree I liked to climb when I was little which has probably been cut down by now, and the vague reassurance that I can lock the front door to my cold rented cell.

Color has been disappearing from the world.

A new research group used machine learning to track color changes in common materials and items, below is their findings for all color changes over time, they used 7000+ items from the 1800s to now to determine color changes in the most common items.

Below are the colors of cars by year, notice how the majority of cars are grey, white, or black compared to twenty years ago.

These aren't data points, but they are comparisons between the 'modern' homes of the 70s and 80s compared to the modern homes of today.

Carpets have equally had the same treatment of grey added to them! The most common color of carpet is now grey or beige.

Even locations that used to scream with color for decades have now modernized to becoming boring minimalist (and I love minimalism) personality-less locations.

The world is becoming colorless, why?

source paper

[pitoftheplum]

[December's Own]

I'm at an undisclosed coffee shop across from an undisclosed hotel. I'm the only one outside. I wear headphones that make no sound. I brush crumbs from my table and watch them float down. Poet brain: autumn appropriation alighting. Alliteration, always. I won't include that when I type this (heh, howdy). Avocado toast, the culprit, why millennials cannot afford to purchase homes. Am I a millennial? I can't tell. I think I'm floating in-between, the gray, swirly-whirly, like all else about me. A lady walks out and scoffs "bitch" weakly. She thinks I don't hear. Cowardly. I laugh, honestly. I certainly can be. But deservedly. Mostly. She thinks I am a toast thief. I didn't rob her of anything. The baristas had simply forgotten. It happens. No bacon on mine, beloved. The people have started. Moths are what they (We? nine years in one place is fairly significant) call them. I won't be for this patio much longer. Give my street spot away to some family. I offer what I can offer. The breeze brought from another city smells like popcorn. That was my favorite food for the longest. Used to make myself sick with it. Grandma did it the right way, stovetop and canola and a bucket of butter and a healthy heaping of sweet, sweet sodium. Toothpicks for the kernels, floss is for wimps. When I got here the light was light. Vanilla bean. My favorite flavor of ice cream. I know, boring. Or, maybe, stay with me, all you really need. Now it's going gold on me. Settling or seeking safety? The place is crowding. I stuffed a tissue under the table's leg so I can write this without it wobbling. I gotchu, baby. A lady showed me her purse earlier while I was waiting to snatch a snack that may or may not have belonged to me (I'm the only one narrating. Can you trust what I'm telling?). A salt girl painted on a periwinkle crescent by her daughter, she's gushing. Morton is their last name, she doesn't ask me why I have mine with me. I feel like I may start crying. I'm complimenting and smiling. Mirroring. But I meant it, promise, really. I slid out of that ambient noise atrocity and opened a book on the other side of the glass titled "Satan Says", started scarfing. After that they left pretty quickly. From fast friends to avoided. A relatively common occurence. People project on me to be pretty polarizing. But many lean to love, regardless. I enjoy the collection generally but some leave me feeling hollow and heavy. Too close to my own things I'd kill to be blessed with forgetting. Up the street is a spot where I bought my favorite book of poetry. It's called Fire and Fret and affected me exponentially. The author is a professor of music, I believe it was published by his university. Local-ish to where I'm sitting. It's nothing ground-breaking. Just spoke to me. Significantly. It's how I am and aim to continue Living. It's about how much he loves this world, his wife, and their sex. Yes. Brilliant. More of that is needed. Profound and proud professions that indeed, I am an animal, homo-sapien. I like to eat//sleep//fuck//repeat the process as much as the next in lineage. Does that make me less intelligent? Being simplistic? I think I'm quite complex internally, I prefer to not think too hard about the other things. Happy-go-lucky. Few people have used that in attempts to insult me. Implying I don't take anything seriously. All it not as it seems. It's quite the contrary. Bell-curving. I'm writing this with a green pen (not here, silly) and I'm scrawling so quickly I'm hoping I'll still be able to read. And isn't that a metaphor for who I am as a being? Moving too fast to make sense and making a mess on top of it? I guess you'd have to know me to answer that. I'm quite mysterious in the flesh. Pandora's box once split open.

<3

-louie