Kiana Khansmith
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trying on a metaphor
tannertan36
Sweet Seals For You, Always
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JVL
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Show & Tell
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
will byers stan first human second
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@salty-wall
Realized my current pinned post is from 2023 so I think it's about time I updated it!
Howdy, my name's Salty (not really), I'm 18+, and I use any pronouns. I'm also a huge nerd!
I don't post often on here but I do have an AO3 that I use slightly more often IsItReallyLuna!
Ok intro over!
Some Kit x Lulu stuff
Failure to reach the heavens
HOLY SHIT
HOLY SHIT I THOUGHT THAT WAS A SCREENSHOT WHAT KIND OF SORCERY IS THIS!?
hi any life advice for 21yo
Don't date thirty-year-olds until you are at least 25.
Having a glass of water for every glass of alcohol will give you a 50% reduction in hangover viciousness.
Bad people will use your willingness to be quiet as a weapon against you. If someone's being awful to you and trusting you'll be quiet to keep from making waves, surprise them.
There is no physical object in the world that is worth as much as your honor.
Honor is not the same as dignity. Retaining one sometimes means leaving the other aside.
Don't have any sex you don't want to have; have as much as you want of the sex that you do, whether that's a lot, a little, or none at all. Nothing you can do to your own body is immoral, unless you're doing it as an act of self-punishment.
Food is morally neutral. You do not have to earn the right to eat calories. Fat and sugar keep your brain from eating itself.
Learning to sit still and breathe--in, in, in, hold, hold, hold, out, out, out, out, out, out--can give you five feet of clear space around yourself in a maelstrom.
Find out how to make three good meals: A comfort meal you can make for just yourself relatively easily, a fancy meal you can use to wow a date, and a meal you can feed a bunch of people. All the other cooking can come later, but you can build a community on those three meals.
If you ever get to the point that things are so bleak you can see no other way forward but to die, make any other choice. If that means leaving everything you own and being a beach bum, or quitting your career, or taking up or leaving a religion, or deciding to bicycle across the country, so be it; living means more chances, dying means everything stops and you don't get to see any more interesting things. As you have not yet seen all the things that can interest you, it is better to live.
Not my usual post style but I WISH someone gave me this advice at 21. Now I'm nearly 30 and I'm grateful to have came across this post now rather than even later on in life.
If you're in the stage transitioning into adulthood (18-23) PLEASE take note of these, they are CRUCIAL (especially #1). People WILL take advantage of you if they see an opportunity to do so. Don't lose your whimsy, love yourself, but protect yourself also.
I hate to say "some of you don't go outside," but fucking Christ, dude
Ouuhh I see the water it’s right there on the post,, I’m so thirsty ouyghhhhhw just one sip for me ooouuuuuu
Girl, what are you talking about? Are you feeling alright?
BLM has published a plan to maximize logging in Oregon forests, including old growth forests, without due regard to wildlife (including endangered species) and waterways. They're claiming it will help prevent forest fires, though that seems to be contrary to current science, including that published by the forest service (you can find a list of sources here). This is in response to Trump's executive orders 14223, Addressing the Threat to National Security From Imports of Timber, Lumber, and Their Derivative Products and 14225, Immediate Expansion of American Timber Production.
We have 30 days to submit comments if we want to prevent this. This article has suggestions for what you can say, and how:
One billion board feet per year... 30 days to make your voice heard.
You can read more about it here:
Conservationists say proposal to “maximize” logging across nearly 2 million acres of Western Oregon BLM lands would devastate fish, wildlife
If you live in Oregon and you love our forests, please submit a comment before March 23rd.
If you don't live here, it would be super helpful if you could reblog to spread the word.
Today’s Ollie Updates
It has become a nightly routine now that whenever I go into the bathroom to get ready for bed, my boy MUST be carried around to inspect the ceiling on my head or on my shoulders, and MUST attempt to sit on the shower curtain rod, rub his cheeks on the shower head, and climb on top of the door.
Normally I keep the door steady and he waits for me to prepare a safe landing before getting on the door.
TODAY my darling son decided that he was perfectly capable of sitting on the door WITHOUT ME, and predictably lost his balance almost immediately as the hinge swivelled. Who could have predicted this
Watching my son begin to slip, I mode under him, and was thankfully able to catch him with my hands over my head
After realizing he is in fact still but a mere mortal, my precious little boy decided that he was done being Up and would very much like to be Down now
Normally this would be a great time for him to scamper down to sit on my shoulder, from where it would not be difficult to jump onto the counter
I saw him decide to do this with just enough time to know that he would fail, as my shoulder would not be there with my hands above my head
I could not lower him, as he still had one back leg on the wrong side of the door, and forcing the movement before he was ready might very well overextend a ligament
In the sort of split second moment with which a dying man sees his life flash before his eyes, I ran through every calculation my mind could conjure
There was, I accepted, only one acceptable solution which assured minimal harm to both parties involved
I let him springboard off of my face
He landed unharmed
After affirming that he was okay, I inspected myself and found a single small but surprisingly deep scratch along the side of my head
[this will scar. I have many scars already. I’ve already decided that this one will be my favourite.]
Once calm, Ollie then begged me to turn on the shower for him
I figured I had to clean the cut anyways. Why the hell not
I let my lovely little. Ollie sit on my shoulder in the shower like an asinine black parrot and watched him go apeshit
Perhaps TOO apeshit
Unfortunately I did eventually have to put him down in his tub chair so I could actually get clean
He sat there soaking wet with his big wide baby eyes and cried to be let back in
I gave up after a minute, rinsed off the soap, and brought him back in to continue swatting at the spray
After, he refused to let me help dry him off, crying pitifully whenever I touched him with my towel
We are both soaking wet
He is licking his toes dry by my bed
I love my big weird baby
Image Attached: Big Wet Baby Who Promises To Behave Himself This Time, Please Please Please Please Please
posting is like bloodletting
Hey i don't post on here often but thought I'd announce for the few people tgat follow me here:
My fic SOUL Without A Home (Body Without A Soul) or SWAH for short has finally updated on AO3!
It's been a while, and I had to fight my insides to write it but if you're in the mood for a 40k word UTY x UT post pacifist fic then feel free to check me out under the username IsItReallyLuna.
I wouldn't normally be such a corporate shill about this but I'm really proud oc this fic and my progress so screw it I'm shilling it up!
Ok I'm going back to reblogging once every decade. Also here's a photo of my beta reader for the most recent chapter.
She's very opinionated. Ok sweet dreams.
This is what happens when you say yes to everything at the checkout.
The good news: Soulmates are real.
The bad news: Reincarnation is also real, and the vast majority of souls on Earth are not presently incarnated as humans. If you are a living human, statistically your soulmate is currently some sort of beetle, or possibly a small salt-water crustacean.
Would you still love me if I was a small salt-water crustacean
It was a beautiful day to go to the beach. The sun was high and the water shone a shining cerulean. You tramped across the sand, feeling underused muscles complain with each step. There’s a vague ache in your shoulders from the days spent hunched at your computer terminal. The unaccustomed brightness hurts your eyes and you stop near the tide line and sigh.
The therapist said getting outside a little each day would help. You’ve never been outdoorsy but a walk on the beach isn’t that taxing. Then again it also doesn’t feel helpful as you’re wiping tears away from the sun shining aggressively on the water. You look down at the tide pools you’ve arrived at.
You can’t deny that while it’s too bright out, and your muscles are already complaining, the smell of the salt and wind is appealing. A small corner of your heart tilts up in a way you’ve almost forgotten. You squat down to look at the pools, feeling just for a moment like a kid again.
Anemones, starfish, and barnacles abound. You watch patiently to see if anything more secretive will move. After a few minutes your patience is rewarded- what appeared to be a rock scuttles. Your heart turns over. It’s some kind of crab, you know. But you feel like you’ve never felt about a crab before. An immense tenderness and love roars through you. Without thinking you reach down into the cool water and the crab steps lightly into your palm.
You lift it up for closer inspection and the crab regards you with tiny beady crab eyes full of the same love. You sit back on the sand, full of both love and a sad kind of resignation.
You found your soulmate. But your soulmate is a crab.
You pull out your phone with a sigh and begin researching saltwater tanks.
It takes about a week to get the tank set up. It’s technically illegal to take wildlife from the beach to keep but no one could deny that the crab doesn’t with your leave your company. You visit every day, and it waits in the pool at low tides. Finally, your tank at home is ideal. The water salinity is correct with plants, rocks, and little creatures for your soulmate to eat. Your soulmate loves their new tank when you sneak them home. They scuttle around touching their new rocks possessively.
When you get home from work at night the crab is waiting, tiny claws pressed to the glass. You tell it about your day and stroke it’s shell. In the mornings it does little crab dances begging you to stay home with it. On the weekends you take it down to low tide, even at night, and it scrambles happily across the rocks and through the pools. But it always returns to your hand when you call.
You aren’t sure what name would be appropriate so you call it, “my love.” It seems able to hear you and gently grips your hand with its pincers when you whisper good night to it. You didn’t think you would be but… you’re happy. You find that the crab understands you. You feel comforted and loved in its presence. You don’t miss the company of other people, though you occasionally still go to work outings and friends birthdays. You usually spend the evening looking forward to the warm glow of your crabs tank.
You’re happy for a long time. But your crab starts to slow down. It’s claws grasp more feebly when it holds your hand. You google how long crabs live, and try not to be dismayed. It’s been something like two years already. Three to five years. Just three to five years together. How old was your love when you found them on the beach? And now it’s been two years already.
You rush home most nights now. You don’t go out with friends or coworkers. You sit by the tank and smell the delicate salt smell and hold your love gently in your hand. You caress their shell and their pincers wave feebly in enjoyment.
One morning they aren’t moving. You walk with dread to their tank but they appear still. You reach down and cradle them gently, lifting them to your face. Their pincers twitch softly, they’re still holding on. You whisper, “It’s okay, my love. You can let go. I love you. I hope I see you again. But if I don’t you will always have my heart.”
You kiss their little shell and they don’t move again.
You call out of work. You can’t stop crying, and you’re not sure what to do with their precious little body. Everything feels wrong. You can’t publicly mourn a crab. No one will come cry with you at a graveside for a crustacean.
Helpless and sad, you decide you have to go for a walk. You’ve gotten used to going out each day, especially on weekends, and your legs don’t complain. What happened next wasn’t your fault. You weren’t paying attention but you shouldn’t have had to be. Even if you had been, it would have only upset you to see the car bearing down on you as you were midway through a crosswalk. You couldn’t have gotten out of the way.
That’s how you died.
Your eyes opened, blurry and new to see the beaked faces of your parents, graceful white necks curling protectively up into the sky. You pushed yourself feebly out of your shell and lay panting in a nest made of water reeds and grasses.
That’s how you were born.
Being a swan was a nice life. Your parents were diligently protective. Some of your siblings didn’t make it to fledging but most did. Once you fledged being a swan was even nicer. Flying in formation behind your parents, feeling the simple mathematics of air currents, trajectories, and trigonometry flow over you as simply as breathing.
On your first migration you came to a place full of other swans. The feeling of safety and community cupped you and you browsed freely for food. You are one among the many.
Then in the crowd of flashing white feathers and long necks- you saw them. The most elegant and beautiful swan you’d ever seen. Your heart swelled with love both strange and familiar. You began to dance for them and they returned your calls and gestures at once, reaching out their sinuous neck to caress you.
You found your soulmate. Again.
Oughhhh this. This hurt my heart so well. I love this. The 180 from 'haha funny crustacean soul mate' to 'AUFGGGGHHHH' is so awesome.
USAmericans: Which region are you from?
New England (Rhode Island Empire, Masshole Land, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine)
Mid-Atlantic (New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania)
South Atlantic (Delaware, Maryland, DC, Virginias, Carolinas, Florida, Georgia)
East North Central (Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin)
West North Central (Minnesota, Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas, Missouri, Dakotas)
East South Central (Alabama, Mississippi, Kentucky, Tennessee)
West South Central (Louisiana, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas)
Mountain (Montana, Wyoming, Idaho, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, Colorado)
Pacific (California, Oregon, Washington, Alaska, Hawaii)
Puerto Rico, Guam, American Samoa, Northern Mariana Islands, or Virgin Islands
This is using the US Census Bureau definitions of regions.
Spread this all over the place, okay, hon?
I think it's important to share that for the past couple of days, I've been spending my mornings getting up around 6am for 'Breakfasts with Billy'. Billy is a severely undersocialized & potentially previously abused kitten I've been fostering for the past 3 months; he's my own cat Tobin's brother, but was extremely antisocial compared to his siblings, and couldn't just be immediately rehomed. BUT, Billy loves other cats, so we've been letting the Grubs (technically his nieces and nephews) come and eat breakfast with him. He's a huge fan of this, and after watching how much the Grubs enjoy people, he's decided he does enjoy being petted & spending time with me, just in limited doses for the moment. anyway, I have no photos of Billy Breakfast because I've never thought to take any in my usual haggard state, but here's a visual representation:
His expressions are Concerned and Concerned (Silly Style)
Billy Breakfast in the real world
I wpuld kill for Billy Breakfast.
happy new year to all the romance-repulsed aromantics who will not be sharing a midnight kiss, happy new year to all the afamilials who would rather spend time alone than with their family, and happy new year to all the aplatonics who will be enjoying the night with no friends! your existence as a person on the aspec is incredibly valuable. i truly hope all aspecs enjoy their night and arent forced to push their boundaries for the comfort of other people :)
I always have to start the New Years with this picture.
[ID: white text on a black background, the text reads “Dawn of The First Day -364 Days Remain-” end ID.]
"mmh did you know that creator you like also posts 🔞 content? did you know that? don't you think that's weird? don't you think we should keep this space-"
no. i don't.
i booked a front row seat to the devil's sacrament and you're blocking the view
just go back to the 1660 new england hole you just crawled out of and eat barley for a week to atone for your sins or whatever
" "I booked a front row seat to the devil's sacrament and you're blocking the view" is one banger of a thematic statement. Shirt material.
I want you to remember:
The fascists hate you too and they just will pretend otherwise until after they've killed the rest of us, before they turn on you.
Thanks to whoever tried, but I knew they'd never allow it.
Let's do it the old fashioned way. Spread it far and wide.
