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not to sound like a medieval peasant but, cheese and bread. garlic and butter. a menagerie of spices. potatoes. that’s what life is all about right there.
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I understand the urge to comment on recent trends in which people seem to want increasingly sanitized media compared to the recent past, but when you say things like "people used to just shrug and move on when there were books and movies that made them uncomfortable" it's like...well. actually people used to convict artists of obscenity in a court of law.
every day of my life i read someone being like “why doesn’t this story just solve the problem immediately and casually? they just drag it out and make it an issue” well. because that’s the Story
My dad had a land rover range rover made somewhere in the 2005-2010 era (I think) So not super old but not new either but it's pretty roomy.
Comfortably you could fit two upfront (driver and passenger) and three in the back. Less comfortably/safely you could probably also cram maybe 6-9 sitting compactly in the trunk area behind the seats depending on the size of the individuals. I don't think there's enough room in the foot well areas of the seats to fit a whole person. Even lying down the shape isn't really conducive.
If you really wanted to load it up, you could probably get another 4 people if they sit on the laps of the seated passengers depending on how tall/heavy they are.
So comfortably/safely: 5 people
Maximum if not carrying other cargo, and safety and comfort aren't an issue: 15-18 people
Wild caught clownfish will be like ‘hm you see, the anemone you got me is a slightly different color and tentacle width than the one I had back home, so I will not begin hosting it. I’ll be a sort of wandering ronin for the rest of my days.’ And then a captive bred clownfish will be like ‘ok so I have this curved rock I found and I just sit above it and it take care of me 👍’
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the leftism leaving people's bodies when you tell them fat people are human and actually it's fucked up to say that your worst nightmare is to look like us
the leftism leaving people's bodies when you say that it's fine if fat people are also unhealthy. yes you can absolutely be extremely fit and healthy while being fat but it's also literally fine if that fat person is unhealthy
Sometimes having an OC is like "this character is an outlet for my insecurity and trauma" and sometimes it's like "this character is an outlet for my love of vampires :)". Sometimes it's both
Sometimes you think it's "this character is an outlet for my love and nothing more :)" and then you look it over later like "shit. product of the deepest depths of my soul again"
Excerpt written for @flashfictionfridayofficial 's weekly prompt.
Her skin remained stubbornly cold and gray as she stared down at her hands. Like the statues lining the halls outside with their ever accusing eyes. Like the light-less stones on her desk. Empty and lifeless and useless.
A knock on the door had her pulling the white gloves back on. “Enter.” She straightened the dress and her hair as well, before catching sight of Ava stepping inside, and letting herself relax instead. “Ava. Was there something you needed?”
“Your Grace?”
Din’s hands braced on the desk.
The words, even as soft as they were, cut to her heart. Those same words over and over and over again.
“How many times must I say it, dear?” She said over her shoulder with a slight laugh.
Dutiful as ever, Ava had stopped just inside the door, not even daring to enter further. Her hands folded in front of her, her head bowed. “I am your handmaiden, Your Grace.”
“And what does that matter, Ava?” Din snapped, spinning to fully face her. “Have I ever put space between us?”
Violet eyes met hers, brows furrowing as a strange emotion flickered across the normally stoic face. “I am Haven’s daughter by blood.”
“So what? I don’t care!”
“You should, Your Grace–”
“Say my name!”
Ava's hand clenched, and her eyes hardened. But she didn’t. She didn't say anything in fact. No, the perfectly trained and loyal handmaiden chose to look at the floor again. Instead of her.
After telling her what she should do. How she should behave.
Who she should be.
“Get out.”
Avameena didn’t move.
“Get out! I said to leave and that’s an order!”
Flinching, she gave a simple nod, still not looking up, and after the briefest pause, left.
The door closing was a physical blow that had Din falling to her knees. Her own mind even playing tricks on her, as, almost lost in the soft thud, she swore she heard Ava’s voice whisper, “I’m sorry, Din.”
recently saw ppl discuss whether they put their medicines in a kitchen cabinet or a bathroom cabinet and i was shocked by the fact that many ppl said kitchen cabinet. so now i need you to reblog this and say where you keep yours
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vaporwave
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yousharknotpass
origamiaround
ellievsbear
