#youwillalsoregretaskingforthechildhoodfriendsbackstory #thatisgoingtoHURT

Reading a book about slavery in the middle-ages, and as the author sorts through different source materials from different eras, I am starting to understand why so many completely fantastical accounts of "faraway lands" went without as much as a shrug. The world is such a weird place that you can either refuse to believe any of it or just go "yeah that might as well happen" and carry on with your day.

There was this 10th century arab traveller who wrote into an account that the fine trade furs come from a land where the night only lasts one hour in the summer and the sun doesn't rise at all in the winter, people use dogs to travel, and where children have white hair. I don't think I'd believe something like that either if I didn't live here.

modern au drabble/oneshot

Her foot fell heavy on the brake, but it wasn't enough time to stop her car from hitting the pole. Her head flew forwards (thank the GODS she was wearing a seatbelt) and then crashed against the headrest.

She had an immediate migraine.

She told herself it was just a reaction to the pain in her head when her eyes began to water.

Still, she squeezed them shut.

She was rudely awoken from her micro-nap by the loud ringing of her phone (she needed it that loud, because when she was in the workshop, NOTHING could make her stop. Except maybe "Take You To Rio" blasting at full volume through the phone speaker).

Moana's name flashed across the screen, a picture of her smiling in the sun with a silly flower crown in the background.

Loto almost didn't answer.

But she did.

"Hey, Mo."

"Loto! I'm…kind of surprised you picked up. So listen, I was thinking, for our Halloween costumes, we could do Dracula and….Loto?"

"Dracula and me?"

"No, I just. You're oddly nonhyperverbal. It's strange. Are you okay? Where are you?"

It was at that moment that Loto wished she could lie.

"On the corner of Mayoral Drive and Wellesley Street. Near the post office."

"Are you…mailing something?"

"No. I…hit a pole. With my car," she added for clarification, because there were other possibilities.

There was a pause, for about three seconds. Then,

"Loto! What do you mean you crashed into a pole? Why didn't you call me?"

"You called me," Loto pointed out.

"Right, but why didn't you call me immediately? Is it bad? Do you need a ride? Are you being lifted to the hospital?"

"No, Moana. It's fine."

"I'm coming. GPS says it'll be fifteen minutes. I can do it in ten."

"Mo-"

"Nope. No arguments. Sit tight."

Loto thought Moana had hung up, until the loud car engine starting that came from the phone was joined by a question.

"Which pillow pet is your favorite?"

"Pillow pet?"

"For comfort. I'm going with the penguin if you don't answer in five…four…three..two..one! Penguin it is. Okay, bye."

Then Moana hung up.

Loto rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

Why was love so complicated?

It seemed like LESS than ten minutes by the time a honk sounded from behind Loto’s car. She blinked blearily, glanced in the rearview, and saw Moana's sticker-covered hand-me-down Volkswagen Beetle.

Then, seconds later, Moana opened the passenger door, pillow pet in one hand and hot chocolate in the other (she had stopped for hot chocolate??) and got in.

She looked at Loto, then looked away, tapping her fingers on the cup. "Hi."

Loto swallowed the lump in her throat, eyes staring out the windshield and into the stormy distance. "Sorry," she blurted out. "For this. For making you stop whatever you were doing to come here."

Moana put the coffee cup on the dash, where it sat precariously close to the edge. Then she reached over, without a word, and pulled Loto into a hug.

"I crashed my car into a tree once," Moana whispered, as if those were deep, comforting words. "There was a bird in the middle of the road, and I swerved so I wouldn't hit it, and I hit the tree instead."

"At least the tree didn't sue for damage," Loto said, voice muffled against Moana’s hoodie.

"No, but the owner of the house tried to. That was how I met my friend Maui."

"Maui sued you?"

"No, Kele sued me. Maui was the lawyer who won the case for me."

Loto chuckled, nuzzling closer to Moana. "You're a wee bit silly, ay Mo?"

"I'll do anything to see you smile again."

Loto blushed.

"Okay, get back to your car," she said jokingly.

But she stayed in Moana's arms.

And Moana didn't move a muscle.

Emotional Walls Your Character Has Built (And What Might Finally Break Them)

(How your character defends their soft core and what could shatter it) Because protection becomes prison real fast.

✶ Sarcasm as armor. (Break it with someone who laughs gently, not mockingly.) ✶ Hyper-independence. (Break it with someone who shows up even when they’re told not to.) ✶ Stoicism. (Break it with a safe space to fall apart.) ✶ Flirting to avoid intimacy. (Break it with real vulnerability they didn’t see coming.) ✶ Ghosting everyone. (Break it with someone who won’t take silence as an answer.) ✶ Lying for convenience. (Break it with someone who sees through them but stays anyway.) ✶ Avoiding touch. (Break it with accidental, gentle contact that feels like home.) ✶ Oversharing meaningless things to hide real depth. (Break it with someone who asks the second question.) ✶ Overworking. (Break it with forced stillness and the terrifying sound of their own thoughts.) ✶ Pretending not to care. (Break it with a loss they can’t fake their way through.) ✶ Avoiding mirrors. (Break it with a quiet compliment that hits too hard.) ✶ Turning every conversation into a joke. (Break it with someone who doesn’t laugh.) ✶ Being everyone’s helper. (Break it when someone asks what they need, and waits for an answer.) ✶ Constantly saying “I’m fine.” (Break it when they finally scream that they’re not.) ✶ Running. Always running. (Break it with someone who doesn’t chase, but doesn’t leave, either.) ✶ Intellectualizing every feeling. (Break it with raw, messy emotion they can’t logic away.) ✶ Trying to be the strong one. (Break it when someone sees the weight they’re carrying, and offers to help.) ✶ Hiding behind success. (Break it when they succeed and still feel empty.) ✶ Avoiding conflict at all costs. (Break it when silence causes more pain than the truth.) ✶ Focusing on everyone else’s healing but their own. (Break it when they hit emotional burnout.)

we need more divorcebaiting. how strongly can canon imply (without technically outright stating) that these two characters are bitterly, acrimoniously divorced? essential we explore this

you should draw yourself with big boobs

pond creatures 🪷