me: "well it looks like you lost the bet. now you have to do anything I ask for~âĄ"
my girlfriend: "oh yeah? and what's that"
Me, scrolling through the search results for a hastily typed 'thigns that are sexually embarassing, for domming': "now now. be patient little bird~âĄ"
âbody shamingâ and its recognizing nearly every celebrity in american media is either succumbing to extreme eating disorders that clearly r making them sickly or pushing things like ozempic bc ppl r obsessed with skinniness to the point of being ok with dying bc of it âŠ.i for one think its more shameful that this has become so normal that ppl think ur weird for saying this isnt how the world should be đ
happy make a terrible comic day!!! i haven't stopped thinking about this post since i saw it. in 2018 a common merganser was spotted with 76 (SEVENTY SIX!!!) chicks!! that's SOOOO many baby. so much success.
i h8 tiktok knowing i have bpd bc 90% of bpd âcontentâ in there is just other ppl with bpd saying they r allowed to be rlly cruel to other ppl and cannot ever change or try to be better and its like okay so ur in a masturbatory cult and . Thats why u have no friends or stable relationships
i h8 tiktok knowing i have bpd bc 90% of bpd âcontentâ in there is just other ppl with bpd saying they r allowed to be rlly cruel to other ppl and cannot ever change or try to be better and its like okay so ur in a masturbatory cult and . Thats why u have no friends or stable relationships
*guy who doesn't know anything about sports and has never cared about sports in his life* hey did you know womens professional baseball is returning after 70 years and the games are going to be streamed for free on youtube and the season starts august 1st
I think this is so cool and it's awesome they're streaming games for free! I also think it's incredible that this picture is the one they used to advertise the opening day. It's like those videos where someone threatens the camera while their partner shows off their collection of rocks they found.
*sigh* here's version 1, where Morcant encounters Legs shortly after the town poisoning. Turns out I couldn't resist TT^TT
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"The man is little more than a foot soldier," the knight says. "His family is of no repute, his rank befitting that, and his education sorely lacking. He cannot recognise his own name in writing, and yet your lordship wants to speak to the man?"
"In a matter of days he destroyed a town you laid siege to for months," Morcant says.
"By my orders."
Oh, Morcant doubts that. The knight has been too comfortable all his silver-spooned life to have need for such creativity. No, what happened at Belsbury took a kind of imagination fuelled by blood-knuckled desperation.
Morcant doesn't really care much for the petty wars of humanity, but he has to admit: it brings so much potential to the surface.
"Are you refusing to grant me an audience with the man?" Morcant asks, perfectly pleasantly.
"No, your lordship. But he's only a peasant."
"And you are but human," Morcant says. The new religion spreading through the kingdom has made such jokes a secret amusement to him. "None of us are without flaw. Now, where is this foot soldier?"
The tent to which he is brought is the knight's own temporary abode, and Morcant is shown into a space of hearthfire and comfort. There is the remains of a generous meal on the oaken table, and hides laid to preserve the warmth from the frostbitten earth.
The only thing truly out of place is the soldier.
"This is the Belsbury poisoner," the officer says. "As you requested. Soldier, show your superior the proper respect."
The commoner drops a bow, moving with a woodenness that belies exhaustion. There is dirt and blood beneath his fingernails, calluses on his palms, and fatigue bruising beneath his eyes. He is young, but there is already something of the wolf in the man; in his eyes is a brightness born from prologued violence.
"Your lordship," he defers.
"Rise," Morcant says. He sits upon a many-furred seat â he may not tire, but he is not immune to comforts â and offers a genial closed-mouthed smile. "I hear we have you to thank for the taking of Belsbury."
The soldier straightens, and common indeed he is. His armour is battered, disjointed and ill-fitting. His right boot is newer than his left, his helm cracked along the jaw, and the leather vambraces too tight about the forearms. There is still blood on the latter from its previous owner.
He is a far cry from the polished and perfect knight whose tent he is littering.
But a polished and perfect knight was not the one to demolish a town.
"I didn't work alone," the soldier says. "There were several of us who took to the town's well that night."
"But the concoction was yours."
"I... Yes."
"Tell me how you did it."
The soldier's gaze flickers to his immediate superior, but the knight, in a rare display of tact, remains silent. "We picked berries from a local tree, ground them into a compound, and waited until the cover of nightâ"
"You misunderstand me," Morcant says. "That is the what. I want to know how you came to your decision."
"Your lordship," the knight interjects. "I fear you expect too much of the man. These peasants are simple souls, built for war and field work. You do not ask an ox why it plows."
Morcant does not growl because your lordships do not snarl. The sudden wave of ire finds its outlet in other ways, as he tilts his head â not enough to look to the knight directly, but marking him as a bear marks a rustling bush â and his voice mellows with dangerous affability. "A simple soul who did what you could not. Continue, soldier."
The soldier hesitates. And then his mind registers the order, as softly-spoken as it was, for what it is and he straightens. "We lay a similar recipe for the rats in my village, your lordship. But it is known to kill children and barn cats who eat it without warning. I had hoped a large enough dose would weaken the town."
"And the well?"
"Everyone has to drink, your lordship."
Morcant nods. "Even the fields must be watered."
There is a different pause in the soldier now. "I didn't realise the poison would take to the land too. I thought..." He swallows. "I just thought it might end the fighting quicker."
"Death does that."
"I didn't think that they would... that the hunger would..."
"They were savages," the knight says, and Morcant dislikes the interruption, but does not wholly begrudge it. "Brutes. No civilised man would sink to such depths. You only brought out their true faces."
The words seem to give some consolation to the soldier, but not dismiss the unease entirely. Morcant will not blame the man for that â after all, the kill of battle is a breed of immediate bloodshed, so different compared to the tooth and claw hunger which has ravaged Belsbury. More than one man had heaved at the stench and sight in taking the town. The weakness is only human.
He observes the soldier.
So many of Morcantâs contemporaries liken humanity to sheep: livestock to be herded and kept, too stupid to be left unattended, but Morcant knows better. Sheep, after all, do not build their own enclosures, or the houses in which their keepers sleep. Shepherds are not raised from the flock.
No, humanity is creative, and to that measure dangerous. Already, the tools of war are changing, and this soldier â this commoner with nothing more than a will to live and a curiosity despite the limits of his birth â proves that. Give them time, and humanity will outstrip Morcantâs kind through sheer violence between their kin. Give them time, and a vampireâs speed and claws will become as primative as the spears the mortals once wielded.
Give them time, and immortals will find that title comes with a caveat.
No, humanity is worth watching.
This human is worth watching.
He rises back to his feet, and the air shifts as both mortals brace for his verdict, but Morcant has found all he was looking for. "I believe we are done here. Good work, soldier."
The soldier exhales â relief and pride mingling in the sound â but some tension still remains. It is only as Morcant is reaching the tent curtain, that he breaks his reserve. "Your lordship," he calls out. "Were there any survivors?"
"None that couldn't be dispatched easily," Morcant says. "Your method was remarkably efficient, soldier."
"There were children there."
"Even children need to drink."
Morcant will not begrudge the mortal his compassion. Even in war â perhaps, especially in war â humans are a social species, forging bonds which can only ever end in a severing. The clear-eyed ruthlessness which guided his hand to the well's edge is a young thing, a potential which naturally unsettles its mortal owner. The soldier, with all its inherent foibles, is only human, after all.
Also, please do not listen to how people talk about cover letters on this site. Cover letters are important, and in many industries you can be damn sure they'll be read. And no, they're not 'fanfic about working in your office', or just re-stating the resume contents in a fancier guise. If you treat them like that, then of course they're not doing much for you. That makes you sound like a syncophantic windbag, and it's not doing anything else to help.
I was trained in the dark arts of the cover letter by my mother, who is a hiring manager. And her training has paid off: I've been consistently told my cover letters are excellent. Let me pass on the wisdom.
The job of a cover letter is to give a prospective employer strictly more information than is on the resume. This is where you take the resume contents and put them into context. You look at the job requirements (you are looking at the job requirements before applying, right?) and look at your resume and ask the question (in your head) "why would a person think this candidate would be good for this job?" and your cover letter is the answer to that question. If you don't answer that question, the hiring manager is going to have to do it themselves, and you have way more information to work with than they do.
This is especially important if you're moving from one industry to another, because then the relevant connections aren't obvious. It's also very important if you're overqualified, because then you can use the letter to say "I know it looks like this job would be too entry-level for me, but I'm interested to pursue it for reasons x, y, and z". You can also use this space to explain away something that might otherwise be disqualifying, like job-hopping or a long break in employment. The tone to strike here is always matter-of-fact and constrained to topic - don't go into detail about health stuff or personal tragedy, just tell them what they need to hear: that this period of your resume was affected by [bad thing] but that it's now in the past and you're looking forward to the next chapter. Remember, one of the things they're trying to learn is whether you'd be content in this role, or whether you'd be miserable and leave after 2 months, which would force them to do all the work of hiring again. You're trying to establish that you will fit right in and not cause problems. Knowing what drew you to this job in particular (and don't just say 'money', that's true for everyone) helps with that.
And the other mistake? Everyone writes cover letters that are too long. One page is fine. Two is the absolute maximum, and that's if you have a lot of specific things to say. It's a waste of your time and theirs to pad it out with fluff. Of my two most recent successful cover letters (i.e. jobs for which I was interviewed) one was 390 words and the other was 550. That's the length of this post. How long did it take me to write this post? About 15 minutes to write, 5 to proof and edit. That's how long you should be spending on a cover letter, maximum.
I have this headcanon that when a vampire is turned, the more people they have killed with their own free will before effects how their vampire form looks.
Pyro would have some blood always staining his hands, a reminder of who hurt him
Pearl would have serious blood stains on her hands, face, ect, and several cuts on her body mirroring wounds she inflicted on her prey that never heal
Doc would look like doc
Cleo would have no wounds, because she has never killed anyone with her own will
Something neuroscience-y that helps with prose: attention is selective. A character will not notice everything in a room. They will notice what matters to their goal, fear, desire, training, wound, or obsession. A jealous character notices hands. a hungry character notices food. A soldier notices exits. A lonely character notices pairs. Description becomes character when attention has a bias.
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
yousharknotpass
areudirty
kianamaiart
romaincrisis
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baratheonpilled
