@centimeter-tries-to-communicate - Tumblr Blog

i love having a corporeal form. i love eating warm food on cold days. i love taking hot showers. i love sleeping on clean sheets. i delight in earthly decadence. i wake up and eat warm bread slathered in butter. i own multiple pairs of soft fuzzy socks. this body is so comfy and i'm not returning it any time soon

wonderingwhereileftreality

Babe it's decomposing

biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist

and yet i am NOT DONE USING IT

biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist

REANIMATE REUSE RECYCLE

inkskinned

the princess stayed in the tower and read books about better girls, where their hands learned how to hold swords, where they rode in on horses. i gave her books as often as i could. she devoured them.

her princes saw her and pretended to be scared off by dragons. got too lost in the thicket. didn’t want to handle it.

“tell me what it’s like, out there,” she whispers to me for the millionth time. i take her from The Throne into her bed, tucking her in and making sure her feet are covered.

“boring without you” i say as always, “but i did bring back a great story.”

i tell her about how the stars change beyond the equator. how there are places it looks like there are twin suns. how the desert crawls into you but so does snow. i talk about the taste of fruit and promise to bring her back some. she falls asleep while i murmur about rivers, and then in the morning i bring her from bed to Throne, even though she can do it on her own. sometimes she likes help, is all, and i’m happy to give it.

she doesn’t want help getting dressed. the men come for me, blindfold masters i have almost befriended. the path we take away from her is always different, carefully manufactured so i don’t know exactly where she’s located. after all, a lady might get ideas about things.

they let me go in the queen’s room. i report findings, ask for fruit in the next week’s supplies, am told not to spoil the princess, that she must be kind and waifish and wanting when the prince comes. i spend an hour suggesting that fruit might turn the blood sweeter and am allowed six oranges.

in the next week, she marvels over them. turns them in her calloused hands. smells them. holds them until she can’t control her curiosity, devours them. i bring her books about rivers. i bring her books about deserts.

“when is our birthday?” she asks me tonight. i’m knitting her a scarf for it.

“soon,” i tell her, “i’ll come by.”

she rolls onto one side, looks up at me in the dimming light. “I’m glad they chose you to be mine,” she says, and i drop a stitch. my heart sings against the inside of my wrists. i blow out a candle so she can’t see the blush and i can’t see her lips. i know what she means, i say. i know what she means.

it’s twenty-three for both of us. i bring her a cake we both eat, her on her throne and me on the floor. i am in the middle of laughing when she falls silent in the still night. “nobody else ever comes for me,” she whispers. i say nothing.

we have more cake, we go to sleep. i don’t know if she knows i’m awake, but i hear her crying.

the men come, the men take me. the one that smells like cedar always laughs at my jokes. the queen half-hates me because i remind her of “that nasty thing” they forced on their daughter.

“the left wheel needs oil,” i mention, “she’s having trouble turning again.”

the queen’s nose goes up. she never reacts when i mention her daughter’s wheelchair by name - doesn’t find it funny we call it a throne, thinks it’s well enough to leave alone.

“well, she’ll have a prince in this next month coming for her,” says the queen, “i’ve arranged it all,” says the queen, “he’s … had the situation explained to him first this time. i thought it would be best,” says the queen. “we’re paying him…. quite a lot for his effort,” says the queen.

situation. she means that her daughter can’t walk very far. she means the situation of towers. i excuse myself. i find my girl books about turning down marriage. i’m not sure why. it’s all she’s ever wanted.

they blindfold me and take me. cedar laughs at my jokes. the sawdust one is here this time, even he chuckles at a few. we ride horses through places i’ll never see clearly.

“so according to the queen this is the last time i’m needed, huh?” i ask them as they walk me blindly up too many stairs for my girl to make it down, “i’m sorry i never made your acquaintance.”

cedar laughs. he takes off my blindfold and for a second, lets me see his face. “it’s been an honor,” he says, shaking my hand, “you’ve been a perfect lady.”

i spend the day with my princess pretending i am not peeling apart from my bones. i just want her to be happy. to get to come home.

it’s late. “do you think in a past life i was a mermaid?” she asks.

“almost definitely,” i tell her.

it’s quiet for a while after. “what if,” she whispers, “i don’t want to leave?”

i sit up and look at her from across the room.

“it’s just,” she says, “i have you here and all the books i need and nobody makes me walk too long and i don’t feel like… like i’m wrong here.”

i want to tell her she’s never been wrong. that she’s always fit into my heart like a puzzle piece. that, more importantly, the leadership i see in her glows like a fire - that, no matter her body, she’s always been kind and gentle and smart and sweet. a princess that could bring a nation to her feet and do so lovingly.

“it will be okay,” i say, “there’s more fruit to discover.”

she doesn’t say anything. i think i’ve ruined something by accident, but i don’t know what. i don’t really sleep. i don’t say anything when the men come take me.

the world outside without her is boring. no mermaids. i put my hand in a river once a day, just thinking about her.

two weeks later i am awoken by my name, and a voice i recognize perfectly. cedar stands above me in the darkness. “i know two things in this world,” he says to me, “and one of them is about love.”

this time we make the trip without blindfolds. i see the squalor they keep her in. i see the waste surrounding her castle, the terrible place she’s in. rage fuels my footsteps even when they start flagging.

the prince is already there. he has dropped her twice, cedar tells me. i am already running up the stairs even though i can barely breathe. i hear her crying through the door and i don’t need to get ready - the fire that starts in me burns so brightly.

i roar inside. turn dragon and beat back prince with girl made rage. the bruises on her body turn me into giant snake. i eat the man alive, or at least i chase him from the place, never to be seen again. later i will hear a rumor about a demon that stole the princess from him.

she cries into my arms. i take her down every single stair. i hear her murmur her thanks into my hair and then i kiss her, because i can’t handle it, because i have places to show her and she has my heart to lead.

my house isn’t much but it’s near a river. she likes putting her hands into it. i take her places when she is able, and otherwise i bring the places back. we read books together. cedar no longer works for the queen, but he’d rather live with the man of sawdust making tiny wooden figurines.

i lie in bed next to her, stroking her soft hair. “do you think i was a centaur in a past life?” she asks.

“definitely,” i tell her, and kiss her, gently. she holds my face and pulls herself closer to me.

“will i be a good queen? i mean, in this life?”

“i’m certain of it,” i reply. i can hear the truth ring in it. the bone-deep certainty.

she’s quiet for a moment. “you saved me,” she whispers, “and usually we’d end up married. but…”

i don’t know how to answer that. i feel ice down my spine suddenly.

“i’m not demanding, is all,” her voice shakes, “i’m asking this time. for you to choose me. for me to be yours, i mean. and for you to be mine. permanently.”

the next birthday we celebrate, we are both queens.

pmamtraveller

The Pearl With The Girl Earring by Olaf Falafel

impormable

Olivia Jaimes’ Nancy continues to amaze and delight.

ralfmaximus

This really might be the finest 4th wall joke ever pulled off.

sawed-on-shotgun

need a hat that says I WONT SPEAK UNLESS SPOKEN TO AND ITS NOT BECAUSE IM DISINTERESTED AND DONT LIKE YOU I JUST DONT UNDERSTAND SOCIAL INTERACTION AS WELL AS MOST PEOPLE AND ASSUME BY DEFAULT MY PRESENCE IS UNWELCOME AS A PRECAUTIONARY MEASURE SO I KEEP TO MYSELF BUT I DONT MIND IF YOU INITIATE so i can wear it to work

apisashla

I scrolled back as far as I could on the tag for “The Cask of Amontillado” and I still can’t find a single reason why everyone’s posting about it all of the sudden

whythebigpaws

Look a little bit further, in the very back

sixohsixoheightfourtwo

tag yourself, then release yourself back into the wild, for scientific monitoring

b1rd1e

Things often feel insurmountable but then you surmount them & don't really think about it that much afterwards

asteroidtroglodyte

I do enjoy a good visual gag, and an old favorite of mine is “there is Math on a Board in the background that contextually makes no sense.” This broadly comes in 3 flavors I enjoy:

• the board is in front of a classroom, and the Math is waaay too advanced for whatever level of pupil these kids are supposed to be; like having the calculus integral in front of kindergartners, or relativistic physics in front of high schoolers.

• the board is in front of Criminals, who are Planning Something, and by all rights there ought to be no Math there to begin with. Like. You’re planning a Heist why do you have the Full Lagrangian on there. Are we taking a rocket to the bank.

• the characters are super-genius science fiction people. The Math is “Pi≈3.24” with an unlabeled pie chart.

e-the-village-cryptid

the math is about the right level but entirely the wrong subject. yeah, high school seniors probably would be learning some basic differential equations. but they're in biology right now.

jelloapocalypse

Someone asked me a while ago if I still had a photo of the worst sink I had ever seen while apartment hunting in Los Angeles. I assumed I deleted it so I didn't answer the ask and now it's gone, but as it turns out, yes, I do still have a photo of it.

asteroidtroglodyte

I do enjoy a good visual gag, and an old favorite of mine is “there is Math on a Board in the background that contextually makes no sense.” This broadly comes in 3 flavors I enjoy:

• the board is in front of a classroom, and the Math is waaay too advanced for whatever level of pupil these kids are supposed to be; like having the calculus integral in front of kindergartners, or relativistic physics in front of high schoolers.

• the board is in front of Criminals, who are Planning Something, and by all rights there ought to be no Math there to begin with. Like. You’re planning a Heist why do you have the Full Lagrangian on there. Are we taking a rocket to the bank.

• the characters are super-genius science fiction people. The Math is “Pi≈3.24” with an unlabeled pie chart.

therisingking

Girl when I tell you my life flashed before my eyes

saturniandragon

lingonberry24

foolishmortal

what if you told someone you liked their shoelaces while you were on your knees blowing them in a bathroom stall and they told you that they stole them from the president

therisingking

You bitches really won’t let me catch a fucking break huh

lastoneout

The thing is too I understand on a fundamental level that we will likely never be able to stop people from playing extremely dangerous sports like american football because humans are abysmal at risk assessment and anticipating the future, so what we have to do is make it safer, but right now we can't figure out how to make it safer so we need to be very open and honest about how everyone who chooses to play it is choosing to dramatically shorten their lives and worsen the quality of their remaining life when they do. Little boys deserve to be told what football can do to them just like all athletes deserve to be clear-eyed and making informed decisions about the risk they're taking by playing their chosen sport. If we can't actually stop people and we can't make it safer than we should not pretend it's safe and lie to players about the danger they're in and what will happen to them because of it.

sprinkledsalt

I know I’m not saying anything new here but I do think we need to more frequently call out how stupid the “‘they’ secretly have the cure for cancer and other sicknesses but are hiding it because they make more money off sick people” shit is. This is idiotic and people need to feel bad for saying it out loud. It’s such a slap in the face to researchers working their asses off every day to develop new treatments (my aunt has multiple myeloma and is currently part of another clinical trial at the Mayo Clinic, and trust me, the people there actually want her to get better!). But it’s also idiotic because a) it’s just not how things work b) “they” would just charge a shit ton of money for the cure, then, as people would be willing to sell their damn homes to have their cancer cured and c) people in power still die of these things. John McCain was a respected US senator who died of brain cancer, Beau Biden was the sitting vice president’s son when he also died of brain cancer, Joe Biden himself is a former president who is currently battling prostate cancer that has metastasized to his bones. If “they” (who? Who’s “they”?) in power actually have the cure for cancer, then wouldn’t the damn American president have access to it, at the very least?

Like so many conspiracy theories, it’s a combination of smug cynicism and the refusal to grapple with how bleak reality can be. False flag conspiracy theorists don’t want to accept that a man could really massacre a classroom full of children with a gun, and these people don’t want to accept that terrible things could happen to our bodies and medical science genuinely is not there yet for us to stop it. I’m tired of people casually saying this shit when it has consequences, especially with public health. A lunatic is running HHS right now due to people embracing conspiratorial thinking with health and healthcare. Just shut up when you don’t know what you’re talking about, man

vampires-and-witches

elidyce

“This is a tapestry I made myself! I just finished it!”

“…. this is…. big.”

“Eighty feet long, ten high, in forty panels! It was originally going to be sixty feet, but then the Thomas Malory Arthuriana got big and I had to put more stuff in.”

“… Malory published in the fifteenth century.”

“Do you have any idea how long it takes one person to embroider eight thousand square feet of tapestry?”

“You’ve had a lot of free time in the last eight hundred years, haven’t you?”

“Not once I took up embroidery as a hobby, no!”

memesnotwelcome

“Want to see my stalagmite cultivation work?”

missroserose

I love this because an often-ignored aspect of vampire mythology is just how WEIRD vampires would get after even just a couple of centuries.

Ever talked to an old person? Chances are they had at least one—and possibly several—hobbies that they were DEEP into. Life is short, but life is also long; we need ways to pass the time! Now multiply that be SEVERAL lifetimes, and you’re going to end up with some absolutely wild depths of knowledge about downright esoteric subjects.

(Shoutout to Only Lovers Left Alive for being the only vampire media I can think of offhand that really plays with this concept. I love you, vampire Tilda Swinton and vampire Tom Hiddleston and your centuries-long hyperfixations)