KALMAR MIROSLAV OAKHEART. itinerant black mage ❦ occult artefact trader ❦ architect of legerdemain and amateur butchery ❦ sleeps under bridges ❦ cheat, liar, scoundrel, thief, etc. PERUSE CONTRACT HERE.
DEAR READER
Claire Keane
Cosmic Funnies

Love Begins

pixel skylines

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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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todays bird
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
trying on a metaphor
noise dept.

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

Discoholic 🪩
Keni
we're not kids anymore.

Kaledo Art
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

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@discipulusmaleficus
KALMAR MIROSLAV OAKHEART. itinerant black mage ❦ occult artefact trader ❦ architect of legerdemain and amateur butchery ❦ sleeps under bridges ❦ cheat, liar, scoundrel, thief, etc. PERUSE CONTRACT HERE.
"con artist" is maybe the profession with the biggest gap between How Cool They Are In Media and How Cool They Are In Real Life
fictional con artist: I've gathered you all here because you each have unique skills and specialties that will be required for the Ultimate Heist: psychologically destroying the richest man in the world, and taking his mansions, his yacht, and his wife in the process.
real life con artist: plan A is to scare an old lady who barely speaks English. plan B, is to trick unemployed people into giving us money, which they famously have a lot of, in exchange for broadly-defined Career Services. plan C is we try to make NFTs a thing again
every tapwater is "drinkable tapwater" if u can attune your system to the resonant frequency of each pernicious metal in the solution
#just dont drink the lead #like when you drink the water dont drink the lead parts
that's called "the second unfaltering technique of perfectly evasive will" and belongs to the Dodging Metals school. my thing is from the Meeting Metals school, so it's a little different, but both work just fine
i took elvish in school and i fucking hated it. the teacher was like 700 years old and he'd like take us on field trips to sit on the banks of babbling brooks and watch the fall of sunlight through the leaves. my friends in spanish class were like conjugating verbs and shit and meanwhile i was in an old-growth forest being overcome with awe at the sight of a majestic stag. like uhh yeah mr autumnheart when are we gonna learn like any grammar "listen to the murmur of the wind in the treetops, and you shall find the grammar you seek" like fuck dude your pedagogy leaves much to be desired
how to stop doing the kubrick stare in selfies
how to stop doing the kubrick stare in selfies simple tutorial
how to stop doing the kubrick stare in selfies reddit
how to stop doing the kubrick stare in selfies for women
automatic kubrick stare in selfies theories explained
I'd be unstoppable if I didn't have to worry about time or money or having a body
People who live in small towns are afraid of cities for the wrong reasons. They think you have to worry about crime, but crime has been declining for years, despite media hype. What you have to worry about is megapolisomancy: about the steel and stone and life of the city coming to life as a living thing, a thing of magic and occult forces, that can be steered into a urban augury by the modern seers and sages of the skyscraper. Also there's a lot more smog
I think we can't really deny the squalor, insane homeless people, drug needles, etc. Though they do mostly just murder each other.
No. Homeless people and drugs are fine. The only thing you have to worry about in cities is the magic of megapolisomancy being used by a urban wizard to summon the Three Mothers of Sorrow from the Suspiria de Profundis, and possibly the harsh angles of modern skyscrapers acting as doorways to Tindalos
my role in the friend group is "the sphinx" (i talk in riddles and stand in doorways blocking the exit)
Zarria tries to catch the cursed thing, bouncing it between her palms before she gets a good grip on it. She holds it tight. The teacher wasn't kidding about the power: she can feel it in her palms, resonating with the sparking whirring mess that formed her own magic.
Maybe it wasn't such a good idea for her to be holding this. That, however, was not enough to persuade her to give it back to Kalmar.
She perks up at the question, then furrows her brow, trying to remember. Her face goes beet red as she pulls a blank. "We're supposed to..." She steals a glance at the other students. "Figure out how to activate it."
That was a safe bet of a guess, right?
"You think?" His voice is mild. The look he gives Zarria is just a little too amused to be comforting… but that could just be his face. Without anything to poke at, his hands twine through each other, absently fussing with the latest ring he acquired. He'd sort of like to keep poking at it, too.
He has a basic sense, at least, of the energy the thing was putting out -- highly reactive, igneous with a touch of necromancy, likely cursed.
"Maybe you should try putting it on."
they never tell you abt The Skeleton's Curse (bone pain)
dear god. they never tell you abt The Curse Of The Warrior either (muscle pain)
@teaspoon-sarah
holy fuck not that one...
Daily affirmations
a fragment of a dream I had in 2013
Men love me for my cadaver swag. The way my skin is cold like a corpse, my off-putting demeanor, and the way I stand in the threshold of the still-living and the dead.
I think something a lot of other people can relate to is the way that you get so conditioned to discomfort that you stop registering it.
I remember sitting at the table with my family, eating dinner as a child. I’d try to eat, because of course I was hungry. But sometimes the flavor or texture was so repugnant that it moved into a category of Not Food.
“Two more bites before you can leave the table.”
“I can’t,” I’d say, trying to explain the impossibility.
But because I was a child they heard, “I won’t,” and made me sit at the table. I’d sit in dull agonized silence, bored and hungry for hours until bedtime when they’d give up. I’d hate myself for not eating and my parents for forcing me to sit there. The few forcefeeding moments ended in vomit.
They’d say, “If you don’t eat this you can’t eat a snack later,” and I moved past trying to communicate my discomfort into accepting that I’d just be hungry.
That state of affairs didn’t last, because my parents realized nothing could force me to eat so they catered to my palate, worrying they’d starve me. But the message stuck. If you can’t do anything about a situation, just accept the suffering.
A few years later my mother called me off the playground to ask, “Are you limping?”
I shrugged. My feet had hurt for a long time, but that was just the way things were now. My mom pulled my socks and shoes off and gasped. The soles of my feet were covered in huge painful planters warts.
“Why didn’t you say anything?!” She demanded but I could only shrug at her. I’d learned a long time ago that saying things about my discomfort didn’t matter, so now I had no words. Sometimes things hurt and sometimes they don’t. I simply accepted and did my best.
Now as an adult trying to learn to improve my own conditions can be hard. If I make food that I can’t eat I’ll force myself to sit at the counter still, full of guilt and self loathing, trying to will myself to eat it.
At first I needed my betrothed to gently take it away to present me with something I could eat. Now on my own I can usually admit that it’s not happening before too long and get something else, but I still feel guilty.
Laying in bed at night waiting for my betrothed to finish getting ready I let out a huge sigh of relief when they turned the lights off.
“Why didn’t you turn them off if they bothered you?” they asked the first time it happened.
“I didn’t even know it was bothering me until it was gone.”
Assessing my physical state now to see if I can improve it is something I’m still relearning but I’m relieved to finally have the space and support to do it.