#hand written journals

[kentnaturaltribrid]

January 8th, Journal pages for January.

“January, the first month of the year, a perfect time to start all over again.”

[why-the-heck-not]

making a new yearly bullet journal spread is serious business (I drew 72 mini calendar grids and my hand cramped)

[theacademiccottage]

“One should always be drunk. That's all that matters...But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk.”

- Charles Baudelaire, Paris Spleen

[puffycinnabunny]

Youtube videos casually explaining 4 lectures in 10 mins

[deluxewhump]

Fishhook

Adjacent to this piece

CW: accidental hand injury, nausea and dizziness response (vasovagal syncope I suppose), wound tending, max + lo talk about pet whump universe and their relationship to each other in it

@distinctlywhumpthing -you requested some lines on this :))

The fishhook caught Carlo’s hand like a surgical tool and buried itself to its glinting base in no more than a second.

Adrenaline almost made him try to pull it out, but he hesitated. Instinct told him it was in too deep, the hook too curved. It took a moment of staring down at it to even believe what he’d just done. How had he allowed such a careless thing to happen? He wished to return to the previous minute and pay attention. That was Max’s oft repeated advice when they were out traipsing the woods: just pay attention. He glanced at his new keeper, fishing in the sunshine twenty yards away and oblivious to Carlo’s mistake.

It was the same hand he’d broken his finger on. It seemed like another lifetime he’d gone onto his master’s back porch cradling it, unsure what to do. Erik had helped him, hadn’t even faulted him for provoking Keith. He remembered sleeping for a long time in a pleasant medicated daze, his finger in a splint and throbbing mildly. Being unable to bring this new mistake to Erik for help wrung him breathless with homesickness. The adrenaline flagged from the first time since he’d realized what he’d done, and in its absence he finally felt the pain.

“Max?” he croaked, and coughed to clear his throat. He wished again he could just pull it out himself, but didn’t dare.

“Max!” he called, louder this time. Starlings sang in the autumn trees above their heads, and where their branches broke was a strip of blue sky like a mirror of the river. Upstream, Max turned to him.

“I…” it was too stupid to say out loud. His voice shook. After he trailed off, Max put it together by the way he was holding his injured hand, or the thin line of blood making its way slowly to his wrist. Either way, he set down his fishing rod. Even with his eyes dropped back to his hand, Carlo heard the urgency in Max’s approach from his boots on the rocky riverbed.

“It’s okay,” were the first words out of his mouth— spoken so surely, like a man who had seen a dozen fish hooks in hands just this week. He touched the sides of Carlo’s arms. “It’s okay. Can I see?”

He lifted his hand between them. Max hissed in sympathy. “Really got that in there, huh?”

As he took hold of his wrist to better inspect the accident, Carlo became aware of a rising dizziness that had gripped him some moments ago, only now becoming severe enough to warrant his attention. He took a deep inhale through his nose to try to gain control of it. His face felt impossibly hot. Max’s eyes lifted from his hand to meet his.

“Sit down.” He guided down him to the rocks. “Don’t look at it. Look at the opposite shore over there. Take another deep breath. You’re gonna be fine. How’s the pain?”

“Not bad. It’s just really… weird that there’s a hook in my hand.”

Max knelt down to his level and took his hand again to inspect. “I know. It’s enough to make anyone a little squeamish. Don’t look— that’ll make it worse. Keep looking over at the other side of the river. I’ve got you.”

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying enough attention. It’s so stupid. I didn’t—”

“Shh,” Max hushed, busy cutting the still-attached fishing line with his knife without tugging on the hook. If he hadn’t already been lightheaded, Carlo thought the gentle shushing he’d just been given would’ve done it alone.

He was more than happy to keep quiet. Opening his mouth made him nauseated, if his new keeper wasn’t the type to ask how he could be so fucking stupid, he wasn’t going to address it either.

“It might be in the meat of your thumb here,” Max said. “That’s just the hook doing its job, unfortunately. Hey, don’t look at it. Look at me. You’re gonna be good, we just need to get this removed safely. Maybe take you to a doctor.”

Carlo recalled the opening lines of a poem from some dusty anthology in his old home with perfect clarity, clearer than the red trees or blue sky. What a thrill— My thumb instead of an onion. The top quite gone.

“Can you just do it? With your knife?”

Max blinked at him. The river was on their left, and for a moment Carlo thought maybe he hadn’t heard him over the sound of the water running over the rocks in the shallows.

“No,” he said after a strange beat of silence, looking back down at his task. He’d heard perfectly fine. “Hands are delicate, I don’t need to be digging around near tendons. You want to be able to use it after, right?”

That last was meant to be lighthearted, but Carlo caught the moment of disbelief on Max’s face when he’d asked him to do it himself. The request translated to an unmistakable display of trust.

Now that he knew Max had heard his plea for what it was, he was embarrassed for showing his cards like that. Like an animal bearing its neck.

“I don’t want to go to an emergency room,” he said quietly. A fact, not a request. He had plenty of practice in quietly exerting his own wishes without sounding demanding, spoiled, or insolent. Keith picked up on any of those attitudes immediately, and he always paid for it. Erik had more patience for it, on account of the affection he had for him. He might be annoyed by perceived insolence one day and mildly amused by it the next. Of course, Keith would’ve punished him for this kind of mistake by squeezing his hand with the hook in it, or letting the men yank him around with a line attached to it as a joke on their break.

“Mr Holstrom always had a doctor visit me at the house.”

Max was still studying the angle of the hook. He made as if to touch a part of it and hesitated. “Shit,” he muttered. “I have bait and god-knows-what all over my hands.”

“He always called a doctor to the house…” he continued, concerned that Max didn’t know about the lax protocols of pet treatment in US hospitals. “I can’t go to the regular ER.”

“Anyone can go to the ER,” Max replied, distracted. “I don’t have pet insurance, but they’ll just bill me.”

“No, it’s…” he felt tears of frustration prick the backs of his eyes.

Max lifted his head. “It’s what?” he asked, attentive now.

“It’s not a good place for me.”

He could tell Max was skeptical. Did he really not know the way of the world? Erik said most people don’t realize, or don’t want to. Many of us don’t like to dwell on problems we can’t fix in an hour, he said. It’s not our nature.

“Well, I think I can get this out for you anyway. But it has to stay clean. Don’t touch it. First aid kit is in the truck. Can you walk with me, or do you want me to go get it?”

He insisted he could walk. When they finally got back to the truck, Max insisted on lifting him up to the open tailgate and set his first aid kit beside him. On the side of the dirt access road, he put on a pair of latex gloves before gently probing the eye of the hook. Carlo winced and looked over his left shoulder at the line of birch and pine trees. Visualizing the hook moving under his skin made him feel lightheaded all over again.

“I know it’s going to hurt regardless, but tell me if it’s too much.”

“Okay,” he breathed, and took a deep breath through his nose to keep the dizziness at bay.

“It’s not as deep as I initially thought, it’s just a weird angle.”

He whimpered as Max slowly dragged the straight end of the metal out, along his skin, until the hooked part caught and Carlo flinched.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said in that hushing tone Carlo was beginning to listen for like a key in the door.

One gloved finger held the base of the hook in place as he searched something on his cellphone with the other hand.

“Hang tight. There’s a trick for this, I just can’t remember exactly how it goes.”

Soon he was looping a piece of fishing line around the curve of the hook, right where it went into his skin, like threading a needle.

“I’m going to coax it out at an angle so I don’t cause any more damage. I’ll push on this side and pull the line at the same time, and it will come out the same angle it went in.”

The pain doubled when Max pulled the fishing line, and he could feel a warm trickle of blood oozing from the site. He bit the inside of his cheek, and in a moment felt the sudden, blissful absence of the hook.

Max applied pressure to the bleeding. “Move your thumb for me? Good. Just checking.”

Whatever he put on the wound when he lifted the gauze stung fiercely, but that sort of pain was far preferable to the nauseating feeling of metal moving under his skin.

“Need to keep a close eye on it for infection.”

Carlo watched him place a bandage and tape it down. He liked the sound of Max’s voice, and watching his hands as he worked. Usually this was on something other than him, and Max had rarely stood so close to him for any reason.

“I’m sorry,” Carlo said, just to cover his bases.

“Don’t be. It happens.”

“Thank you. For taking it out.”

Max began packing up the first aid box. “‘Course.”

“We can go back out now…” he offered, still cringing at the thought of derailing the weekend activities.

Max smiled knowingly as he latched the kit shut. “We can also go home.” He took his time choosing his next words, and Carlo’s anxiety doubled with every second that passed in silence. He deserved a reprimand, but it would still sting from someone he’d been trying so hard to please these last few weeks.

“You’re a little too good at being a pet, you know that? You’ve got experience at this. I don’t. You should take advantage of that. I’m like the substitute teacher you can convince there wasn’t any homework.”

Carlo looked away, down at the offending fish hook on the tailgate of the truck. It was wet with his blood.

“I’m teasing, Carlo. I’m sorry. I just mean… you don’t have to try so hard. I know this is all really strange for you, probably even more than it is for me, but you’re doing fine. I’m not gonna make you go sit by the river all day with a hurt hand when home is a half hour away. That’s not.. normal. I know it’s hard, but just… just roll with it, okay? I’ll never try to test you, or trick you. I mean what I say. If I need you to do something or behave a certain way… I’ll just tell you.”

He nodded, both chastised and relieved. “I’m trying,” he said, hoping it sounded more like willingness to collaborate than defensiveness.

“I know.” Max put a brief hand on his knee and Carlo resisted the urge to lean forward and put his forehead on his chest. “I’m just going for clarity between you and me. That’s all. Come on. Careful.” He offered his arm to help him jump down from the tailgate. “Let’s go home.”

[ahalliance]

so ur telling me bill offered to mix ford a drink and when ford declined bc he doesn’t drink was like ‘i’ll convince you tomorrow night!’ . then successfully managed to get ford absolutely fucking blasted following that . concerning !

[deanofsam]

and lo i tell you this: god hath blest us by giving us ao3 user Goshen (applecrumbledore)

[arthursfuckinghat]

Epilogue 1 - John Marston

[morelikesin]

This, the proof of my existence,

Let this be the catalyst

of my love

of my dignity

and the evidence of my belief

in my body to serve everything

beyond myself.

"Aldrnari."

-

A lengthy passage of my writing including a transcript of the above images beneath the cut. Translations will be in the replies.

This, the proof of my existence,

Let this be the catalyst

of my love

of my dignity

and the evidence of my belief

in my body to serve everything

beyond myself.

Through the harsh winds against the mountain face, the short bowings of Frea’s tagelharpa - strings played loose and softly - reverberated against the ice of the glaciers and the cold snow cushioning the land beneath their feet: the chill both a reminder of their living against heated skin, and the preservation of everything before them in its still permanence. From the horn, blowing distant into the dark, vibrant beauty of the night sparkling with glittery snow and stars that melted into the aurora within a canvas of black and violet night, was a sense of grounding.

So much had happened, and so much will - but for now, they stood, alive, atop the mountain face. It would, for now, be enough.

A night so still, and yet so alive, to be relished in with grace and weeping humbleness. What is to come after will be the same as it had before: the world will continue to turn, with them in it or not.

Raising a hand to their chest, Blóðhundr’s fingers grasped the jaw hanging from the leather string of their necklace. It felt frozen underneath the mercy of the biting wind. Tentative and slow, they began to drag the jewelry upward - pulling it off of their neck by lifting it above their head; looking down at what was a gift from their beloved, from a time that felt so long ago. They supposed it was.

Their other hand lifted the cover of their journal. Upon the pages that proved their existence in the form of their poem written from the previous night, they, after one more longing look upon the smooth, gently yellowed bone of teeth and mandible, thumbing over the divets of the mandibular and mental foramen, placed the coyote’s jaw onto the pages for weight.

Ný sól rís,

Ný dögun,

Með sóma,

Með kærleik.

“Aldrnari

Eldr bal bruni.”

“Hyr hiti

Logi seyðir.”

Through winds to sky,

The birds to keep cawing,

The wind to keep blowing,

with or without

you and me.

“Aldrnari

Eldr bal bruni.”

Unfettered in my mourning,

Jǫrð be our will

In our deaths and what life we've left to live.

“Hyr hiti

Logi seyðir.”

Heilir, mín nýr byrjun,

Með virðingu

Do I lay you to rest.

"Elddansurin."

“Aldrnari

Eldr bal bruni.”

Sofna upp frá þessu;

Mercy unto you

As you have given to me.

"Elddansurin."

“Hyr hiti

Logi seyðir.”

Að elska,

My greatest weakness,

Cradled by you:

My favorite memory.

"Elddansurin."

“Aldrnari

Eldr bal bruni.”

Leyf mik vilja þínn skilja.

“Elddansurin.”

“Hyr hiti

Logi seyðir.”

My traust into you I give

My body yours to carve

Your blóð mine to bear

And your grave mine to keep.

“Elddansurin.”

“Aldrnari

Eldr bal bruni.”

For now,

We lay in each other's arms

Flesh and bones in Earth's embrace

For what brevity we are allowed to be.

“Hyr hiti

Logi seyðir.”

May death be our home

As life was our respite;

Hann þarf þinn styrk.

Þú þarft hjarta hans frjótt.

[bunfloras]

i think i finally found my book idea :)

[kentnaturaltribrid]

2025 coming your way!!! ⚜️

Happy NyE!

[wereshrew-admirer]

thinking about chine as somebody that casually sings to themself often, excited to have a baby for the excuse to make up little songs for it as they travel.

[nenoname]

kinda surprised that i haven't seen an au where stan uh tried a bit more harder to pretend to be ford

[akorah]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love

(thank you to @pia-bartolini for the ask as well!)

The Journal [AO3 | FFN] Theomione, 104k, complete Theo & Hermione get stuck sitting next to one another in Runes 3rd year. Passive aggressive note-passing occurs. (Partially inspired by Colubrina's The History Project and Kousa's Rowena's Study)

Silencio [AO3] Theomione, 6k, WIP An examination of how any spell can be unforgivable, particularly if it's used against a child. Theo's father was particularly fond of the Silencing Charm.

Ascent [AO3] Theomione if you squint, 4k, complete An examination of Dumbledore's ability to justify anything so long as it suits his goals, such as a sixth-year Slytherin knowing how to create a Horcrux.

When the Sun Rose [AO3] Theomione, 60k, complete except for epilogue Childhood best friends-to-idiots-to-lovers. In this No Voldemort AU, Theo & Hermione become best friends first year and promptly lose the ability to tell that their feelings are anything other than platonic. The story is told through vignettes of each December into their early 20s. (If we're honest, though, it's really Theo's mother who shines in this one.)

The Breaking of Draco Malfoy [AO3 | FFN] No pairing, 70k, complete An examination of Draco's post-war mentality. Afraid of what the Wizengamot has in store for him, Draco takes off to France, where he encounters Theo and a Muggle town, and has to come face-to-face with his own prejudice. Concurrently, Hermione is at Hogwarts for eighth year, coming to terms with her role in the war and her friends who had been left to suffer under the Carrows.

[kissingarthurclaus]

Grrggh...good morning everypony = w = I rewatched the episode of the ppg reboot where Utonium gets a girlfriend...