Don't Make Eye Contact.

Protect what holds you in its jaw

- Alternative Version -

The screaming faces in the "bark", the pinhole-eye between his legs, the way you can't tell if it's a tree, a hand or a tongue. Simon's absolutely pathetic expression as he clings to something clearly monstrous simply because it vaguely resembles something he used to love. Hiding his face in his arm in the shame of his desperation. He is looking at us, the viewer, in a fearful question. "Do you judge me?"

Back when I was studying interior glass design (like how you make those church windows and stuff), most of my schoolmates were a collection of the gayest looking alt girls considerably possible. Like my class year was about 8-12 people (depending on how you count) and in that section there were two that had a mohawk, two that had dreadlocks, and two that had blue hair. Notable mention to the one who was standing firmly in all three categories, having a blue dreadlock mohawk. But anyway I digress.

On my third year there, the new class of students had a girl who looked so wildly out of place there. Dressed all in soft vintage-y pastels with never-been-dyed sandy blonde hair, no piercings save for pearl earrings, no tattoos. Sweet, quiet, so soft-spoken that she was almost inaudible - to the point that we made jokes that we all have to learn sign language because it's the only way she could make herself heard in a rowdy art school classroom. If you've ever been in a zoo that had one of those tropical enclosures with parrots and monkeys all screaming at ear-shattering volumes and tackling each other for shits and giggles, imagine one of those rooms but there's a tiny little big-eyed white-dotted baby fawn sitting shyly in one corner.

Anyway this one time I was out with schoolmates, and she had come along. Having been at the bar for a few drinks, we retired to another classmate's place - she didn't live in the same student housing as I and most of the rest, she had her own apartment and an adorable pink hairless cat who was oddly extroverted and wanted to personally greet and inspect all guests. Didn't like me very much, on account of my hands being cold.

Anyway we sat in the living room - some on the sofa, some on the floor, drinking beers and other such beverages, talking random shit - when I noticed that Little Fawn Girl wasn't there. I knew she didn't smoke so she had definitely not snuck out for a quick one, so I had to go find her. That didn't take long, she was sitting at the hallway by the door, in the dark, with her shoulders hunched up and the hairless cat loudly purring on her lap. She was softly, very softly, petting the cat's smooth leathery skin.

Figuring she wouldn't be here if she'd want to make a scene of all this, I quietly got to her and asked if she's okay. She had tears running down her face and she was shaking, trying to draw a shivery breath to talk, clearly having difficulties to just form a sentence, not to mention also being audible over the loud rumbling engine of Pink Leather Therapy Goblin 3000 on her lap. Eventually, not being able to speak up any better, she leaned in to whisper into my ear.

*checks wiki*

Gunshots: $100

Poisonings: $200

👎 Kids (Teens are fine tho)

👎 Bystanders

👎 Other Hitmen

First Person - $450, additional bodies add $375 each

(Basically a steal still my normal rate is $650. Cmon guys it’s $200 off!)

Carb starts your engine, protein keeps it going.

Cookie

Fruit (canned or fresh)

Chips

Piece of bread

Popcorn

Crackers

Easy protein add on:

Nuts

Spoonful of nut butter

Cheese

Roasted chickpea snacks

Glass of milk (dairy or non dairy)

Eridian Field Trip.

The Black Dog.

Otherwise knows as Black/Old Shuck, Church Grim, or Barghest, the Black Dog is an omen of English Folklore. The sight of a black ominous hound was a sign of troubles to come - rotten food, dead crops, floods or storms, or just an incoming death.

Scapegoat.

(Let’s get it straight: Most societies over history have defaulted to skirts for everyone because you don’t have to take anything off to relieve yourself, you just have to squat down or lift your skirts and go. The main advantage of bifurcated garments is they make it easier to ride horses. But Western men wear pants so women wearing pants has become ~the universal symbol of gender equality~)

The book I’m reading literally just had its medievalesque heroine declare that peasant women wear breeches to work in the field because “You can’t swing a scythe in a skirt!”

Hm yes story checks out

peasant women definitely never did farm labour in skirts

skirts definitely mean you’re weak and fragile and can’t accomplish anything

skirts are definitely bad and will keep you from truly living life

Skirt hiking: Definitely a Thing. (Janet’s tied her kirtle green/above the knee and not below…)

(Seriously, the notes on this post are a goldmine for people mentioning their cultures where men wear skirts. I couldn’t fit them all in. This is missing toooons of cultures from every part of the globe, especially Asia, Africa, and the Americas.)

Ancient Rome

Modern Morocco

Medieval Europe

Traditional Saudi Arabia

16th century Russia

Traditional Papua New Guinea

16th century Turkey

and when i showed up for work in a skirt, all the men went BALLISTIC.  they told me i’d trip, i’d get stuck, i’d freeze, i’d quit within the month when i found that i had underestimated how hard the work was.  i asked what they thought women wore to work outside before the mid twentieth century, and they told me “women didn’t work outside then.  they stayed in the house all the time.”  and that’s when i learned that hatred of the skirt is another way of erasing women’s history–if you can pretend that all women were too hobbled by their clothes to even function, you can pretend that they never contributed jack shit to society.