focus on what you can’t see⋆

The $1 per hour rule. It’s exactly what it says on the tin. If I’m purchasing physical media, I consider it good value if I can expect to get at least one hour of enjoyment for every dollar I spend on it.

I don’t remember what I spent on BG3, but I know it was a good deal because I’ve logged 600 hours in it. Hades II costs $30, and I was more than happy to pay that because I know I’ll play it for at least 30 hours. When I add books to my library, I almost exclusively buy used books that cost under $5 because 5 hours is a good average estimate for how long it takes me to finish a novel.

His things were packed into a small sack, not to take with him, but to be kept out of the way. The ration of rice his mother had been saving for a special occasion had been ladled on to a plate for him, topped with nuts and fruit she had been gifted by her customers for the day. This would be the last meal she would ever cook for him.

"If you ever find love, you must treat her like a princess." His mother's dress was thin and ripped at the shoulder, falling down her arm. Her ribs were visible above her breasts and it made his stomach twist in worry. She looked like the stray dogs that wander the city's port, sniffing for bits of chum left by the fishermen. "Worship her. Anoint her with oil. Kiss her feet."

"Her feet?" He sneered. She shot him a wide eyed, furious look and he ducks back down to his food, shoveling a mouthful in with his fingers. The woman working in the next room cried or moaned. Those two sounds blend together too easily in his mind.

"You will never raise a hand to her. You will never hurt her or any other woman. You will never be like any of the men that enter this brothel-- you will never enter a brothel, do you understand?"

His mother was not always a whore. She would tell him stories of how she used to be a dancer in her home country, before civil unrest drove her across the sea.

"Do you understand? You will never force yourself on any woman. You will never make someone suffer the way I have." Her mother tongue still rolled freely off of her tongue. Bruises men left behind on her skin never seemed to heal and the swelling of her jaw made common tongue sound slurred. "The only blood you will ever have on your hands will be another man's."

"If you marry, you will treat the poor lamb better than any woman has ever been treated. You will never stray. You will give her gifts and love and anything you can offer." She ran her hand over his freshly shaved scalp, tears heavy in her eyes. The knights demanded his head shaved and he knew it pained her to see his curls gone. "Do you understand?"

"I understand, mama."

"Your mother loves you more than the sun loves the moon. Do you understand?"

"Yes, mama."

This was their last night together. In the morning, the knight would come to collect him. None of his things or clothing would come with. Once the sun rose, he would no longer be a whore's bastard, but property of the king, a soldier to be trained to die.

"Your life will be better. They will keep your belly full of meat and your shoes mended. You will grow strong," she had explained when they first demanded him. "You are a big boy. A smart boy. They need boys like you to hold swords and fight their wars."

they are grabbing breakfast VERY early one morning (that farm boy schedule). You're halfawake, nursing a coffee, nd the waitress clicks her tongue at beau when she tops you off.

"Beaumont Russell-" she smacks her gum as she talks. "You best be making this girl an honest woman.

Beau's tan blossoms with a red, red blush. He absolutely stammers, setting his fork down with a huff. The waitress glances at you and winks, trying to bite back her smile; apparently, she expected this.

"Now-- Why--?" he says. "Suzanne-"

She taps the table with her knuckles and a chuckle. "Don't settle on a small ring, sug'. I seen his house. He can get you something big."

When she walks off, Beau continues huffing and puffing, not so silently thinking it all over. You try to hold back a giggle, but fail, earning yourself a less than warm glare.

"Beaumont, huh?"

He groans. "Oh, come on."

You waggles your finger out to him with a little "ooo".

"Give me something big, Beaumont."