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Granpa watching TV loudly. The rest of us just got back from a long walk. We're tired. We are resting on our phones. Granpa: "everyone's on their phones!" Yeah? We're not disturbing anyone? What's the problem?

tejoxys

“The song picked him up emotionally, wafted him through the soft air, ran him through an ill-tempered meat grinder, and finally buried him about two miles and six feet underground.”

-Piers Anthony, Luck of the Draw (via tejoxys)

dariuswhiteplume-deactivated201

‘Adults are adults, all over Xanth,’ Dolph said. 'I don’t know what happens when folk grow up, but it never fails. They stop believing in the Monster Under the Bed, and start believing in nutritious food, and they join the Adult Conspiracy and all that other junk.’

Prince Dolph to Princess Nada in Piers Anthony’s Heaven Cent (via dariuswhiteplume)

dariuswhiteplume-deactivated201

[…] girls were supposed to be more innocent than the boys they married. Boys were supposed to know everything, and the girls very little. Since it was manifest that girls were smarter than boys, the only way to get around this was for the girls to be younger. Then, after they were married, they could show their superiority. The boys were then either too stupid or too embarrassed to acknowledge the situation, so they ignored it. They did not even tell each other. That was the universal way of it. Everyone knew all about it, except the men, and of course no woman would tell.

Piers Anthony, Heaven Cent (via dariuswhiteplume)

podkins

How To: Crochet The Side Saddle Stitch - Easy Tutorial

What a fab stitch right? Olivia from the sweeet little blog Hopeful Honey shares a tutorial with video via the link.

The Elder Sister.

By now, little Mishka was starting to find her way. She was even making a name for herself. Highly sheltered and educated by the Natural Ones, and having just learned the merits of entertaining, she felt brave and eager for what life had to offer.

At least that’s what I’ve heard thus far.

I’m very proud of my baby sister, and how far she’s come in spite of herself.

But for today, I’d like to tell you my story.

My name is Kaida, which means little dragon. I’m a remnant. That just means I’m a little weird. What makes me different (what makes me labeled “remnant” and hated above other strains) are the hardened scales that have developed on my flesh, and bony extensions that protrude from my head and spine. I used to hate it. I would scrape the scales away till I bled (I still do, though now out of habit) and rub away at the excess bone with a metal file. Now these are my armor and decoration. I dress myself up like the dragon I truly am to scare away any who cross my path. I’ve learned medicine, but only so I know how to torture and cause the most pain. I take jobs as an assassin where work is available, but am willing to patch up the injured if there’s money involved. I’m proud of who I’ve become. I can make a grand entrance or vanish into the night, depending entirely on my own wim and fancy. Of course, I always keep tabs on Mishka. Wherever I go, I find someone who knows her to keep me informed. I don’t think she knows I exist, but that’s for the best. My line of work is not the most family friendly.

I think I always knew I would be fierce. When I was born, I bit the fingers off the midwife. I don’t remember, of course. That’s just what Erike told me. Erike was my step-father, rest in peace. Wonderful man. They always seem to die before their kids are grown. Whatever. I digress.

When I was little, I didn’t know my family was any different. I was taught to fight by my mum and not to trust anyone, and that was that. When she married Erike, he seemed just fine and dandy to me, and he seemed to think the same of me. The only problem I faced was my mum with the baby. She had already lost one since it’s innards were formed outside itself. That’s how I first learned that being a remnant was bad. It means that the body does weird stuff it’s not supposed to do. Now with the second one, she was really paranoid. She really came down hard on me to be careful and strong and all that. I guess she knew she wasn’t going to live through this one and wanted to make sure I’d be fine without her. What she neglected to teach me was doctorin’. I really wish she’d taught me then what to do to help a lady give birth. I guess after what a spectacular delivery I had been, there wasn’t a midwife to help with this one. So when she passed out, I really didn’t know what I was doing. Erike guided me as best he could, but I still am pretty sure I killed mum when pulling the baby out. He always told me I did my best, but I doubt it. That’s probably why I did make a point to study medicine later on. Didn’t want any repeats of that mess.

Mishka turned out to be a pretty cool kid. She was maybe two or three years old when she started getting headaches. Turned out she was getting little goat horns! While mine always looked evil, hers honestly looked pretty cute.

Remember how mum was always suspicious of everyone? Erike was the opposite. His big wierdness was that he always seemed to shimmer in the sun, and I think he must have lived a pretty charmed life before joining up with us. But he trusted everyone. He had made good relations with the Natural Ones, the Rovers, Diesel Jocks, even some Pure Bloods of all things! But he was too innocent. (Mishka’s just like him in that respect.) He had made a lovely home for us, and always had an open door for anyone passing through. (It’s like he didn’t even know what Zed were!)

His innocence proved fatal. I’m glad I’d had the foresight to insist on a trapdoor from his perfect home, or none of us would have survived the raid. He was dead before he even knew he was in danger. I had snatched little Mishka and fled underground and didn’t stop running until the moon had hid her face and the sun was returning.

When I woke up, I found the Natural One’s had taken us in. They nursed me back to health and kept our presence in their camp very discreet.

My time with the Natural One’s was a very special, if not emotional, time. I found healing of a spiritual nature with them, and knew these were the kind of folk that saw your heart. If only it weren’t so dang boring! (As a side, I imagine their little community is what heaven must be like. So perfect, and yet...)

Leaving Mishka with the Natural One’s was probably the most painful and difficult decision I’ve ever made in my life. I was ready to face the rest of the world, head on. But this little tyke was barely walking. I knew she’d have the very best life with them, and it would be selfish of my to take her with me. But it was still difficult. I almost missed the caravan of Rovers from prolonging my goodbyes. Of course, she was so little, she promptly forgot me when she saw a passing butterfly. Probably for the best.

PT 2:

I’d abandoned the caravan of Rovers after about a week of traveling. They were the most annoying group of rabbel I’ve ever met! Constantly drunk off hooch and acting like a wild bunch of Muricans! and when I finally spoke my mind, they became grumpy and would only communicate through those annoying scarves. So childish!

It almost makes the aching hunger bearable, to have some peace and quiet.

But after wandering for weeks without finding any food, I’m actually starting to miss them. My water ration is almost up, but lakes pop up infrequently. It’s wildlife that seems to hide.Though that’s probably because of the Zed. There are an unusual amount around Verdegrift Gardens. I’m currently making my way to Crystal Creek where opportunity thrives, and Zed rot away.

But for now... I’m just so hungry.

PT 3:

I should have seen the signs. But my hunger blinded me. The promise of food was too much. When the food vanished and the chains appeared, it was too late. for weeks the disgusting band of Diesel Jocks had dragged me along, back to the Gardens.Their Pure Blood leader had seen the opportunity and had me set up on display.

“Come see the freak of nature!” He had shrieked to anyone passing by with a spare Day. But most were bored too quickly and found the only joy was to pelt me with any local debris. On good days, that debris was food. On bad days, it was rocks.

That life felt like decades, but I knew it was only years. I hated it, but I learned from it. Strains don’t matter much. All folk are inherently evil. If there are no consequences, they’ll show their true nature, and its always more freaky than any Remnant could ever be.

That life taught to be strong. Malnourished and often overworked between shows, I had been growing stronger. I made a point to hide this and always let myself stumble and struggle to keep the fools unaware. I waited patiently, because I already knew I’d only have one chance. I wasn’t going to waste it. But it was definitely a long time coming.

As the fools slept in the night, a shot rang out. With a definite “thud” the watchmen fell. A few more shots followed, taking out anyone with a weapon. Instantly, chaos followed. This was my moment. As the fools scrambled to fight back (only a few remained) I managed to slip my chains off the wagon and began to scurry. I was quickly hiding in the woods, but not yet out of the clear. I knew I’d been followed, but had no idea where in the dark my unwanted companion hid.

All at once, at rope was around my neck.

“Worthless” was what he whispered in my ear.

I didn’t make it this far to fail.

I grabbed the hands holding the rope and twisted at my waist, pulling my adversary over me. He fell hard against the earth, and I wasn’t leaving him there. My elbow met his chest in time with his landing, and with a single movement the rope was off my neck and hog-tying him. But he could fight. The struggle became a blur as we each found ways to best each other. The second I thought I’d won, he’d grab my ankle and knock me off my feet. As i’d start to loose my bearing, I’d force my wrist up his nose. We fought until we were exhausted, and then fought some more. As the sun slowly rose, I realized others were quietly watching our lethal battle. I also realized I suddenly had an advantage. This fool was a Full Dead, and the sunlight was affecting his fight. But like a sore loser, he finally relented and pushed away from me. I was now surrounded by his pals, and once again in harm’s way.

“I am not worthless.” I stated. “I am Kaida the Dragon, and I will rein fire through your life and wave your severed head before your screaming children.”

He smiled at me, a sickening smile I will never forget.

“So do you need a job?” He asked. “Because if you can fight like that, I’ll point you to the guy who needs to make his wife a widow.”

And that is how I earned my first job as an assassin.

#DR #Dystopia Rising #remnents #backstory #history #hype #DR OK #DR Oklahoma #DR AR #DR Arkansas #LARP #remnant #remnants

cracked

Babies cry. It’s what they do. It’s estimated that the average child will log a whopping 4,000 crying sessions before they turn two. Try telling that to a Sioux mother, however, and she’ll gesture to her perfectly calm, serene little baby. As if to rub it in your face. Sioux women vocally criticize the American hospital practice of immediately separating a baby from its mother, because it makes them “cry like a white baby.” Hear that, white mothers? You had a racial stereotype all along, and you didn’t even know it! Congrats!

In fact, in most other cultures – from Africa to Asia and beyond – babies simply don’t cry as much. When shown videos of a typical American diaper change (rife with squirming and shrieking and urine streams with sniper-like accuracy), Kenyan Gusii women were aghast at the Westerners’ utter inability to soothe her baby. A study of Mexican babies found that intensive crying was virtually nonexistent, while researchers who traveled to South Korea to study colic had a bit of a rough time doing so, because colic didn’t goddamn exist there.

5 Insane Ways Your Culture Physically Shapes Your Perception

anarchetypalarchive

i was talking to my cousin yesterday and he was talking about an accidental mistake he was dealing with, and proceeded to describe it as, “i picked a whole fuckin’ bouquet of whoopsie-daisies” and tbh i’m still thinking about it

cracked

First, understand that the opposite of panic is not blithe acceptance of the situation – it’s clear-minded, positive, day-to-day action. Panic makes you do stupid shit or, even worse, curl up into a ball and do nothing. Don’t tell me you have reason to panic. You never have reason to panic. You have reason to act.

So yeah, be upset for as long as you want. Get drunk. Do whatever you have to do. After that, I want you to sober up, splash water on your face, and consider some facts.

Gay marriage has overwhelming support nationwide – 55 percent to 37 percent against.

Legal abortion is favored by 56 percent, with 41 percent opposed.

The vast majority of the population supports background checks for gun buyers – up to 90 percent in some polls.

A majority of Americans support some kind of universal health care, 58 percent to 37 percent.

64 percent of Americans are worried about global warming. Only 36 percent are not.

And – get this – Americans overwhelmingly agree that immigration helps the country more than it hurts, by a 59 percent to 33 percent margin.

Okay?

Your country didn’t go anywhere. It’s right here where you left it. America is nothing more than a big ol’ collection of people, and those people are more diverse and progressive than they have ever been. That train won’t be stopped. Donald Trump’s supporters are by and large an aging and shrinking demographic. We didn’t see the backlash coming, but that’s on us – a look at our history would have taught us to expect it.

In light of that, there are a few things to understand going forward.

Don’t Panic

greelin

good responses to getting stabbed with a sword

rude

that’s fair

not again

are you gonna want this back or can i keep it

mikkihand-blog

Using this for role play.

Dystopia Rising. Being a remnant in Verdegrift Gardens is not easy. I always want to see the very best in others, while hiding these ever-growing antlers beneath my hat.

Her story begins

The year is 1895. Her name is Opal Davenport. Her father is a physicist and is teaching her science, mathematics, geometry, and the like. It is a controversial decision to teach a lady these things in the Victorian Era. But he saw the intelligence early on within her and is determined. To be continued. . .