purplefoglights
Zero Functioning Brain Cells
A vaguely person-shaped mass of confusion.
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your friends love you, your brain is just mean
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obsessed where stories where it is like. the mistakes are unfixable and the worst thing that could happen happened and nothing can go back to how it was. but there was still love in this and love will continue after this and love endures always.
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some observations on color coding eyewear in ficton and their meanings
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is the world really such a terrible place? yesterday i asked if oat milk was extra and the barista said yes so i said ok just regular milk then and when she gave me my chai latte she whispered “i used oat milk ;)” doesnt that make u want to live another day?
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something I don’t see people bring up a lot when talking about worldbuilding, especially when you’re creating cities, is wind. prevailing winds in many places in the northern hemisphere blow from west -> east, and because industrial production tended to take place in the centre of cities, workers would live downwind of factories while the wealthier classes would live on the other side, away from air pollutants, which is why a lot of cities have a poor east-end and a rich west-end, a spatial configuration that persists in many places that are now post-industrial
and in general the built environment has a durability to it that persists far past the historical moments that produce those configurations. this means that the stated aims of a city via a vis city planning are frequently at odds with the physical layout of the city itself. so if you want to create a city that feels like it has a long history to it, working through its earlier stages of production can help with decisions you make about its layout, and also allow for weird spatial contradictions in a city that has to constantly fight against its own physical history
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reblog if your name isn't Amanda.
2,121,566 people are not Amanda and counting!
We’ll find you Amanda.
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You open your eyes. There is sun at your back, a sword at your side, and a large face of rock in front of you. There is an opening in the rock. Some sort of cave entrance, probably. It is narrow; you can’t tell if you would be comfortably able to go through.
Almost without knowing why, you walk forward, into the opening.
Two things are immediately noticeable: First, the opening does not lead into a cavern, as you had assumed, but instead to something akin to a tunnel. Second, you do, in fact, fit comfortably. You fit perfectly, actually. Half a step to either side and your shoulders would brush the walls. The height, as well, seems tailored to you, allowing just a few inches of space above your head. It seems somehow familiar, but that’s ridiculous. You shake the feeling off.
You continue forward. Soon, the passageway splits. You go right and keep walking. The passageway, you notice, never really changes shape. Though the walls and ceiling are not smooth, the proportions remain the same. Always that perfect width, that perfect height.
The tunnel splits again. You go left. Another fork, and you continue straight this time. More splits. Left, straight, left, left again. You never stop at these branches, instead continuing in your path, somehow knowing that you are making the right choice.
The tunnel splits again, but this time, for some reason, you hesitate. You go right, feeling uncertain for the first time.
A few meters in, the ground drops out below you. In freefall, you see a glint at the bottom. Metal, you realize. Spikes. You squeeze your eyes shut.
***
You open your eyes. There is sun at your back, a sword at your side, and a large face of rock in front of you. There is an opening in the rock. Some sort of cave entrance, probably. It is narrow, but you know, somehow that you will fit.
Almost without knowing why, you walk forward, into the opening.
The opening leads into a tunnel, and not a cavern. This does not surprise you. As you had suspected before, you fit perfectly. Half a step to either side and your shoulders would brush the walls. The height, as well, seems tailored to you, allowing just a few inches of space above your head. You are struck with a feeling of déjà vu.
The passageway soon splits. Without stopping, you go right. When it splits again, you go left, and then straight, then left and straight, and then two more lefts. You arrive at another fork, and stop. Left or straight, you wonder. You know, for some reason, not to go right. You go straight.
There is light ahead, flickering and yellowy. You continue forward. Abruptly, the passageway opens up into a cavern, lit by torchlight. At the corner of your eye, something moves.
It is tall. Some type of bear, maybe, but the claws look far too long and the teeth too sharp. It takes a step forward.
You draw your sword. The bear charges. You dodge and swipe at it. It turns. Another dodge, another swipe, and then you thrust your sword into its heart. The bear seems to disintegrate, there one moment and gone the next, leaving behind only a piece of dark brown fur. You pick it up and clip it to your belt.
The tunnel continues on the other side of the cavern. You keep walking.
Before long, the passage splits again. You stop, and after deliberating for a second, go right. At the next split, you go right again.
The cave ceiling collapses on top of you, almost too fast to register.
***
You open your eyes. The passage entrance lies in front of you. Your sword hangs by your side. A piece of bearskin is clipped to the other side of your belt. You walk into the tunnel.
#short story#my writing#writing#original work#idk if i'll finish this#inspired by some post i saw years ago#if anyone finds it please let me know
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nobody tears through library books quite as fast as a 12 yr old girl with no friends
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hey. don’t cry. crush three cloves of garlic into a pot with a dollop of olive oil and stir until golden then add one can of crushed tomatoes a bit of balsamic vinegar half a tablespoon of brown sugar half a cup of grated parmesan cheese and stir for a few minutes adding a handful of fresh spinach until wilted and mix in pasta of your choice ok?
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