#canthus

[saccharinerose]

I finally gave my Fae twins appropriately Fae-y fashion

They also have names, finally: Canthus (short hair) and Sidae (long hair)

[theenglishnook]

The canthus, where eyelids meet, aids tear drainage, medical diagnosis, and facial recognition. Its role in health, aesthetics, and biometrics highlights its significance in both anatomy and cultural perception.

CANTHUS

[sharxiii]

Happy 11 years, Frozen 🤲🎵🪕

"Vuelie" with bouzouki, low whistle, & some synths

here's a lil vocal-less alt:

[thecanthus]

Canthus

She saw it, out of the corner of her eye, and it moved just like a spider. After she climbed back into her skin, she realized, it was not a spider. Nor a bug. Nor even a living thing. It was just a bit of black fluff, being puffed along by a forgotten breeze. She sighed to herself, putting her hand flat on her chest and feeling her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her bones. The bit of fluff blew itself under the counter and she didn’t think about it anymore. Afterall, it was just fluff.

   Once her teeth were clean, her face washed, her bowels emptied, she went to bed and slept fitfully. (She had always had trouble sleeping if she got too warm, and trying to sleep comfortably in the windless Summer nights, without even a working fan to keep cool, was impossibly close to impossible.) Awaking, after 8 hours of near-constant tossing and turning, she felt like her face was stuffed with cotton, which liquified when she sat up, draining into her nose and eyes and leaked down her cheeks and into her mouth and down her chin. Briefly, she considered going into work anyway; there was an important presentation she was to give, but there was no way she could talk her way through a presentation when she couldn’t even pronounce half the words intelligibly.

She called into work. Talked directly to her boss, after having to fumble her way through speaking with a receptionist. He ranted. He raved. He even tried cajoling, but after the fifth time of her breathlessly whisper-shouting “I’m sig!” he finally relented and reluctantly and sullenly agreed to postpone the presentation, though he apparently felt he couldn’t do that without a snide remark about the guests that came from however many miles away or from another country to see the presentation.

As she hung up, she thought for the thousandth time about how she needed to find another job.

She texted girlfriend, asking for chicken noodle soup, ginger ale, and cuddles. There was acquiescence and within a half hour there was a friendly, warm body cuddled up with her on the sofa, a simmering pot of chicken noodle soup on the stove, two glasses of ginger ale next to the giant box of Kleenex on the coffee table with the rest of the two liter in the fridge, and an episode of Cold Case streaming on her laptop.

If she hadn’t been sick, it would have almost been perfect.

They spoke little, it enough to be near each other. Half-way through the third episode, with half a bowl of now quite cool soup in her hands, girlfriend jumped half a foot, then sighed and chuckled. She, thankful that the soup had cooled and she hadn’t burned herself when a large dollop spilled onto her shorts and shirt, looked a question at girlfriend, as she carefully placed the bowl on the table and grabbed handfuls of Kleenex.

Girlfriend looked sheepish and said, “Sorry. I thought I saw a spider, but it was just a bit of fluff scooting along.”

“I dig dat las’ nigh’” She said congestedly, mopping up what she could of the spill. “Dere seem to be a lod of dem here.”

“Probs left over from the previous tenants. Here, I’ll be right back with a clean shirt and shorts. Just stay here and keep warm.” Girlfriend got up, dedicatedly rearranging her pillows and handing her her ginger ale, before heading upstairs to the bedroom.

She paused the program and waited, looking around the room. She had moved in maybe a week or two before, and it still felt odd to know that this was her house, and she could do whatever she wanted in it. It was also daunting to think she could do whatever she wanted in it, or with it. She smiled as she thought about how she could run completely naked throughout the entire house if she so chose and how happy that would likely make her girlfriend. She began plans for something along those lines while she waited.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs came to her ears, followed shortly by girlfriend’s call, “Hey, honey? There’s… a lot of fluffs. Like. I can’t see the floor.”

“What?” is what she tried to call back, but trying to raise her voice brought about a coughing fit. She doubled over, closing her eyes tight as she coughed into her fist. When she managed to regain herself, girlfriend was at the door, a green shirt and black shorts in her hands, but that wasn’t what what caught her attention. The hardwood floor looked like it was covered with an old, irregularly patterned shag carpet, in black, red, green, and neon pink. It was waving gently back and forth in the still summer air.