#of nothing

[ailelie]

writing exercise

The exercise was deliberate head hopping.

Alba smoothed her hands across the old, wooden table and considered her best friend of the past two decades across from her. She and Miri had grown up together and Alba often considered Miri to be her younger sister. Right now, though, she was revoking all sibling privileges. She was on the edge of revoking the best friendship ones as well. “One more time?” she asked.

Miri leaned forward, resting her chin in one palm. Her smile was wide and tinged with a mischief Alba knew far too well to distrust. “Wes asked me to marry him. I said ‘yes.’”

“Wes Edgerton,” Alba clarified.

“The very one,” Miri confirmed.

Alba drew in a bracing breath, begging for patience from a higher power she no longer believed in. “Wes Edgerton who vowed to destroy your workshop and every invention therein?”

“Yes.”

“And the same Wes Edgerton who you once vowed to see imprisoned for daring to steal your talisman design for automating sailboats?”

Miri hummed, far too amused by Alba’s exasperation. Accepting Wes’ suit had been galling, though she’d had to admit she had no better ideas for trouncing Madame Tuille. Madame Tuille was proposing to bring all talismanic design work under the auspices of the church and, more specifically, her control. Miri knew her parents would stand against it, as would the Edgertons, but the families would never work together. She and Wes had inherited their enmity, for all that they’d created their own reasons while growing up. Binding the families together was the only way to ensure they pooled their resources and became one force. Madame Tuille might succeed if they stood separately.

“Why?” Alba demanded in a helpless voice.

Miri knew she should tell the truth, but teasing Alba and everyone else in her life was the only joy she could eke from this betrothal at the moment--not that she was ready to tease anyone other than Alba just yet. Besting Madame Tuille would be the other joy, but that could not come to fruition yet. So, instead of explaining, she said, “Well, he is handsome, isn’t he? And smart when he isn’t stealing my work.”

“You’re lying about something,” Alba said, narrowing her eyes. The Miri she knew would never be this calm about marrying her nemesis. 

“Would I lie about love?” Miri asked in a mock-wounded voice.

She wouldn’t, Alba knew, but, “You’ve not said you love him.”

“Is there another reason to get married?” Miri parried and that was when Alba knew for certain that something else was going on. She considered for a moment pushing until Miri inevitably crumbled and explained. They knew each too well to keep secrets for long.

Instead, Alba decided to play into the scheme. She traced a summoning spell on the table, calling her mother to the room. She and her mother disagreed on nearly everything and their fights had only worsened when Alba had confessed her lost faith. That said, one point of their ongoing disagreements was her mother’s desire to see Alba fall in love. Her mother was a terrible romantic.

Miri stilled, her smile faltering for the first time. “Who did you call?”

Alba only smiled. Only a minute or two passed before the door opened and her mother entered the room. 

“Did you girls need something?” she asked.

Alba’s smile widened when she heard Miri curse softly. “Mother, I wanted to make sure you heard the good news. Go on, Miri, tell Mother about your engagement?”

Lydia’s breath caught and she pressed one hand over her heart. “Engaged?”

Miri was slow to paste her smile back on. Lydia noted her daughter’s far too amused smirk and knew some kind of teasing was happening, even if she did not understand what exactly. 

“Wes Edgerton asked me to marry him,” Miri said. “I said ‘yes.’” 

Lydia could not stop her jaw from dropping. Her daughter hid a laugh behind her hand and Miri shot her a quick glare. That alone convinced Lydia that the engagement was not a lie. Miri was not enthused like a girl in love should be, though.

“Is this what you want?” Aunt Lydia asked. “Truly?”

Miri took a deep breath and imagined Madame Tuille’s angry, red face when she realized her bid to control the innovation, creation, and use of talismans had failed. A true smile bloomed over her face. “More than anything.”

Aunt Lydia’s concerned look softened. “Then, tonight we will feast for your good fortune. Congratulations, Miri.”

“Thanks, Aunt Lydia,” Miri said. She still wished Alba hadn’t surprised her. She wasn’t ready for her parents to learn about the engagement. She’d wanted to tell and tease everyone on her own terms. Now, Aunt Lydia would tell everyone for her and she would make everyone believe that Miri was a besotted bride to be. 

Wes was going to be impossible when he found out.

[lovely-v]

It’s crazy and fucked up that being yourself is actually the solution.

[oldmanpusspuss]

I still think its the funniest shit ever that when I used to volunteer at planned parenthood every week even though I walked past mostly the same protesters every single time they were begging me not to get an abortion theres other options yadda yadda. Like meemaw you see me here every week. They call me abortions georg because I get another one every Monday at 8am

[julius-caeser]

BOYS NIGHT, 15th March, Senate! bring your own booze! remember what happens in the senate stays in the senate ;). BOYS NIGHT BOYS NIGHT BOYS NIGHT

[beaft]

me when someone abruptly asks me if i want to go and do something fun together but the fun thing wasn't part of my daily plan:

[valdotpng]

an accomplice turned victim his apology, long overdue

[great-and-small]

Trends on other social media sites:

Try this new dance challenge! Post your glow-up! Get Ready With Me!

Trends on Tumblr:

[kitsnicket]

[ailelie]

I am the third of three sisters. We were always sisters before being daughters. Our parents were the sort to sell their children if they thought they'd get any benefit from it. I know this because they sold my sisters one after the other into marriage with Mr. Tiger.

He is not a literal tiger nor is that his name. We called him that for the way he prowled through eligible young men and women wearing civility like a stolen coat. He devoured my sisters one after another. And now, my parents have sold me to his gaping maw as well.

I have little hope I will survive and I know Mr. Tiger will resume his prowl once I'm dead. Four dead wives and two dead husbands should mean parents protect their children from him, but he pays for us so handsomely and refuses our dowries. One spouse for Mr. Tiger could mean success for every other remaining child.

I am not one for journals, but I am keeping this one because I do not wish to die. I will track my experiences and hope that I can identify something to help me escape or defeat Mr. Tiger. If I fail, then I hope that you, future reader and doomed spouse, can use my writings to do what I could not.

Still, I will strive to maintain futile hope of my survival and so shall sign,

The Last Bride

[bixels]

As gen-AI becomes more normalized (Chappell Roan encouraging it, grifters on the rise, young artists using it), I wanna express how I will never turn to it because it fundamentally bores me to my core. There is no reason for me to want to use gen-AI because I will never want to give up my autonomy in creating art. I never want to become reliant on an inhuman object for expression, least of all if that object is created and controlled by tech companies. I draw not because I want a drawing but because I love the process of drawing. So even in a future where everyone’s accepted it, I’m never gonna sway on this.

[duckysprouts]

i need everyone to understand the poetry of curly turning a blind eye to anya’s suffering only to be robbed of his autonomy and voice as she was and then forced to observe jimmy’s crimes and the abuse of his own body

[vamprisms]

kill 'character did nothing wrong'. nurture 'character did everything wrong and i was whooping and cheering the whole time'

[phosphorus-noodles]

Reblog to let your followers know that they’re safe from jumpscares/screamers/etc from you on April 1st but they are NOT safe from getting boop’d like an idiot amen

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

it's healthy for academics to have professional feuds. enrichment activity

[persianmom]