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lungs and heart by Kate MacDowell

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— unknown (via letsbelonelytogetherr)

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In a world full of dawgs, one lone catgirl* stands against the tide....

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There were a great many rings, but he could only take one. Which is it?

watercolor on paper

Follow me on Instagram and X

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‘‘ I am unclean ’’ from Nosferatu 草图

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Martha Gellhorn, from a letter to David Gurewitsch featured in The Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn

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Sylvia Plath, aged 23, in a letter to Richard Sassoon (dated Sunday, 11 December 1955)

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birds of a feather by aaron jasinski

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There should be a word for the microscopic spark of hope that you dare not entertain in case the mere act of acknowledging it will cause it to vanish, like trying to look at a photon.

Terry Pratchett, Mort

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Ida Rentoul Outhwaite - 1921

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deltwinrune @bloodtwin

creecher-ifies your iago. deltarunification.

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creecher-ifies your iago. deltarunification.

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― Han Kang, Human Acts

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It's a few beats longer before they look up again. "Hm?"

They ghost their thumb over the ring, prodding and poking for anything magic to come from it. A small enchantment, maybe, but nothing much- they can't be too disappointed since they're running out of room in their warded, locked, and semi-safe display cabinets anyway.

"It'll take a bit of tinkering to figure out just what it is," they start to explain. "Usually with a noble's item like this, there's at least a minor charm, illusory probably- or possibly a harmless, yet amusingly inconvenient curse depending on just how popular this individual was, but-"

They cut themselves off from rambling, remembering it very likely will fall on deaf ears. Pivoting, they pat Katya's head twice and simply reply, "Yes. Good doggy."

In reference to Katya's dietary habits, the picky sorcerer’s nose scrunches.

"The whole thing? Bones and all? Actually- no, don't answer that, I'd like to preserve what's left of my appetite," they muse casually, similarly unbothered by the killing- or at least by the act of such. The manner and general disgust by what remains is more of a matter than who exactly ends up on Katya's dinner plate- besides, unruly patrons should know better than to get on the bad side of the Silver Moon's head mutt.

"Perhaps," they prod the ring with their pen when Katya scoots it closer. "Some cursed family heirloom, if I'm lucky. A pretty ring to hock off to a tourist, at the very least."

They rummage their pockets for a handkerchief before braving the hand, needing the extra layer between themselves and dead skin as they pry the ring from rigor mortis fingers. Gagging only a little bit, they promptly shut the box and push the leftovers back towards her, "You're welcome to enjoy what's left of your little snack. Elsewhere, ideally."

Focus waning from the wolf in their shop to the ring now in hand, Iago starts to scrub at the flecks of dried blood as they inspect it. Only after a few moments do they remember to mumble a "Thank you" before losing themselves in their new trinket.

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