asinnersalibius

[asinnersalibius]

[asinnersalibius]

Want to learn something new in 2022??

Absolute beginner adult ballet series (fabulous beginning teacher)

40 piano lessons for beginners (some of the best explanations for piano I’ve ever seen)

Excellent basic crochet video series

Basic knitting (probably the best how to knit video out there)

Pre-Free Figure Skate Levels A-D guides and practice activities (each video builds up with exercises to the actual moves!)

How to draw character faces video (very funny, surprisingly instructive?)

Another drawing character faces video

Literally my favorite art pose hack

Tutorial of how to make a whole ass Stardew Valley esque farming game in Gamemaker Studios 2??

Introduction to flying small aircrafts

French/Dutch/Fishtail braiding

Playing the guitar for beginners (well paced and excellent instructor)

Playing the violin for beginners (really good practical tips mixed in)

Color theory in digital art (not of the children’s hospital variety)

Retake classes you hated but now there’s zero stakes:

Calculus 1 (full semester class)

Learn basic statistics (free textbook)

Introduction to college physics (free textbook)

Introduction to accounting (free textbook)

Learn a language:

Ancient Greek

Latin

Spanish

German

Japanese (grammar guide) (for dummies)

French

Russian (pretty good cyrillic guide!)

[asinnersalibius]

　　 a 　 a

　 a 　 　 h

　 t 　　 w h 　 　　　　 c　　k

　　T 　 　　 　 　 u

　　　 h　 ₑ　 F

[asinnersalibius]

"It's cruel to keep such creatures, y'know?" The shopkeeper grimaced as the girl's fingers moved delicately over the metal wings, fluttering in earnest.

"It's cruel to be tricked."

"I suppose," The girl muttered softly, petting the wings, itching with the quiet hum of its little body. "Though I suppose you're not the one trapped in a ring, no?" The shopkeeper laughed, as if she made a joke.

"You're just a girl, you don't know the dangers of the fae. They trick you, turn your words against you, make your intentions false." He boasted, big belly round with ale jostling as he acted.

"And if your intentions were false to begin with?" The girl met the man's eyes, hidden by the fat of his cheeks, the sweat of his forehead; he no longer bellied, but glowered at the girl. "The fae only lie when they are lied to."

"You're too young to have such a skinny tongue, girl." The girl hummed, toyed with the ring, pressing it's middle till it burned red, the wings buzzing so loudly the ceramics in the shop began to rattle. Soon, the middle burned, blackened and opened, an empty shell as the young woman stood long of its place. Turned out the man wished for time, and wealth to follow, on the condition that he didn't fall ill in later age. The woman gave him time, but in her presence he aged, quickly and violently. He tried to run but she always found him one way or another until he trapped her in a trap, stumbling as if he was weak until the woman tripped from the bronze. He at least decorated her, though insulted her with the design; the man had died quickly between his weight and impending age. From her eyes, the girl was sure the woman would try to smite him further.

"I'm sure it was uncomfortable." The fae don't show gratitude. It makes them indebted, but they do acknowledge generosity. A simple nod, a gift, a stare. I've learned to gather these gestures, not to keep a checkbook but an understanding. The perceived gratitude of a creature full of pulled contradictions.

Text: The ring is adorned with a moth, its body metal, its wings real looking, delicate and fluttering as the shopkeeper notices me staring. “A faerie that tried to trick me,” he says, “a long time ago.”

[asinnersalibius]

"I wouldn't say I love you but; I think of you first when I see a post that says "which are you?"

It's odd to know that you are my first and only thoughts for seven seconds every moment, but god knows the odd is all I've known.

[asinnersalibius]

Mm

So I was working on a little excerpt and it got a little out of hand and since I don't presently know what to do with it, I figured I'd leave it here till I remember.

It is a place. I'm sure I'll remember to add pretext eventually. : 3

"I'm growing old now, you ought to mind my space." The old woman warned almost childishly. The little girl held her hand, resting her cheek on the skin-taut limb, poking the darkened spots of age. "Why's that?" The old woman laughed, her heart monitor beeping in caution, though her smile never faltered. "Death doesn't always play fair, dear. He may catch you too." The little girl nodded and huffed, her little lung puffing up in her chest with air. She'd matched her breathing to every third thrum of the monitor, holding her breath for as long as she could when it stopped. The long, distant noise range like an alarm in the hospital and the girl continued to hold her breath as doctors rushed in, holding and holding until her chest ached and her lungs hurt and her vision dimmed around the edges, until she gave up, and walked away.

"I remember you." I remember sitting at a bus stop, holding an umbrella between my legs and a book under my arm. I didn't know what book it was. "You may be mistaken, kid." The man spoke with an eastern accent, and the girl tilted her head, maybe nineteen, twenty years old; a community college badge on a yellow lanyard around her neck. "No." She stated more firmly, gripping her lanyard like a lifeline. "I do." "I'm not from around here, y'know," The girl smiled, sitting beside the man, noticing the faintest scent of cigarettes. She nodded at his words, trying to figure out why or how she knew him, why she felt so certain. Time ticked on, the bus came and went and when the girl glanced up again the man had a cigarette between his lips. "That was your bus." He held the cigarette away from her, the orange glow a stark contrast to the blue filter. "I know." "Why didn't you get on it?" "I have company." This confused the girl immensely, and she realized the time, running off to school through a construction zone, stepping into a community pool, filled with cement too deep for her to stand.

Being incarcerated wasn't as bad as many mortals made it seem, though in the same breath, I'd only been here a few days, in an older woman's body. "You don't seem the violent type." I had a chatty bunk mate, a slightly younger woman who was locked up for disorderly conduct. "What's that supposed to mean?" This body had a rough voice, damaged from a respiratory condition. There was a shift above me before her long hair tumbled down. "You seem more divine than violent." An uncanny smiley spread on the older woman's face and the younger one flinched noticeably. "Divine? You read too many stories kid." She frowned at me, a warped expression upside down. "I'm serious. I know you. I remember you from the bus stop. . ." She trailed off, sliding from the top bunk in a acrobatic act, sitting cross legged beside me, a pulled look on her face. "I remember sinking, seeing you just as I realized I couldn't get out." I don't know why this part was always my favorite. "You sure you didn't hit your head coming in here? They say they care but the guards can be mean SOBs." The frown didn't leave her face and I could see that little god in her, curious as always. "You were a man then, I remember." "And what makes you so sure we're the same person kid?" I couldn't help but humor her, challenge the little god. "He called me kid too . . ." She tugged on her uniformed, clutching at the collar as if she was wearing a lanyard. "You both smell like cigarettes." "A lot of people smoke kid." "Maybe." She confessed quietly, turning away, a very familiar mark on her neck. "That a birthmark?" She watched me with her brows furrowed as she touched the mark with her fingers, an oddly discolored patch of skin behind her ear. "You shouldn't be able to see that." I wondered if that was their god mark, it almost surprised me that I hadn't seen it sooner, on the elder, the girl, and now, almost this woman. "No one else can." "Guess I am special kid." The body I occupied was ambushed in the showers a few days later and an irony passed over me as the life in that woman's eyes faded, paranoid and confused. I'm sure she found peace.

"You're following me." A man, maybe twenty-three. "Am I?" "If you were in any other body, I wouldn't know." He started lighting a cigarette, "Her parents died in an accident. She's my niece." "I'm sorry." I said, as apologetically as one could with no family to pass, but he didn't seem to take offense. "Do you know who I am?" "No, but I remember your previous forms. The little girl at the hospital, the man at the bus stop, the woman at the prison." I nodded. "Good memory." "So what are you?" Something in him flinched at the little girl's smile, "Reaper? Devil? Demon?" "Think higher." "An angel?" "Sure." "You're lying." He voiced thinly though his face didn't show anger, but pinched curiosity. "Angels don't lie." "Good thing I'm not an angel then." His face relaxed and he chuckled, the embers burning down to an orange filter and peeled fingernails. Time seemed to pass far too quickly whenever we were together, I didn't remember the sun being so low in the sky, so close to the sea, that mark being so dark. "Is she going to be alone?" The implications of that question were almost tragic and I felt a sense of pride at being able to identify the emotion. "I'm not a Reaper. She will outlive you, but you will be old." He nodded curtly, picking up the little girl and walking to a hotel close to the sand.

"You're a god, aren't you?" It was a little Egyptian girl, no older than twelve, princess to the Pharaoh. "My father tells me stories of your kind." "My kind?" She smiled at me then, seemingly well beyond her age. She seemed acutely aware that she would be scarified that night, yet she spend her day speaking with an Ethiopian merchant's daughter. "Gods."

"I know who you are now." "Yeah?" "Eshna." I nodded, my original name, my given body of flickering light. "Do you remember your name? Do you remember who you are?" The young man shook his head. The mark more of a black smudge across the side of his neck, just behind his ear. "I will soon." "Are you ready to return?" I doubt they knew where they'd return to after this life was over but I knew they were aware that they didn't belong here. When I turned to them their eyes were vacant, pointed to the sky, towards the stars that shone brighter without the moon in their light.

[asinnersalibius]

do not go gentle into that good night

[asinnersalibius]

I aspire to be a Brutus

I want one of those scenes in a dude bro film where “tomboy” chick has to wear a dress to go undercover or whatever, but instead of the guys drooling as she walks down the stairs, they’re like “k. U need to stop. Go put the cargo pants back on. You look super uncomfortable and awkward in that. Brutus, you go be the fake prostitute.”

[asinnersalibius]

*re-reads my own story*: Damn this is some good shit

*gets to the part where I stopped writing*: WTF WHERE’S THE REST OF IT HOW DO I GET MORE

Brain: You’re the author, if you want more you have to write it

Me: *flips tables*

[asinnersalibius]

worrying is like worshipping the problem

[asinnersalibius]

Cruel Gods, Our Pliant Creators

I'm no good at trigger warnings, but it's up there in the "what the fuck" department :)(:

As a little girl I grew up wanted to tell the Gods that they were cruel, to stand on the tippy-tops of my toes on my bed and ask;

"What did I do?"

Because of course, I didn't do anything. Not as a girl, not as a woman, and yet from a young age I knew I was cursed. I was a slave in my own body and a trap to those outside of it.

And again, I asked cruel Gods, "What could I have possibly done?"

And without answer, again and again, I turned to books. Holy text, fiction, literature, and history and I learned from a young age that it was always our fault. People were always at fault and that only proved the cruelty.

I tried to explain it. I tried to rationalize it. Mostly to myself, then to other people but they only told me, time and time again;

"Come now, silly girl, the gods have always been cruel, they always will be."

I didn't want to agree. I wanted to believe in a world of kindness, freedom, security, but alas it was only a belief and I was only a girl. And I could keep believing as I became a woman, Keep believing as cruel gods turned true love into tragedy, Safety into safety nets, designed to strangle, Freedom for the dominion, Security for proprietary, Kindness for security. A vicious game, cruel gods often played.

Eventually, though, I learned I played their games, You never win any trophies, but there are silent victories. You learn there's safety in communication. Security in solitude. Kindness in ourselves. Freedom is a bit harder to find. Doesn't matter where you look. Those petty little gods hold it so nearly yet so far you know you'll never have it but you can't help but leap. And you will leap, you'll never quite get it, not beyond a grasp. A breath of freedom. A gasp of fresh air. It's a petty game, but you have no choice to play. Especially when the gods are cruel, pliant forces. Especially when the gods are men.

[asinnersalibius]

The Things I Hear

This one's a bit worse actually, not like making you ball your eyes out, but it's personal, cathartic to a degree so, keep weary.

I heard you had a new family, the little boy you've always wanted. I thought it would hurt, thought I'd feel disappointed you finally found peace. I think a part of me wanted to, but no. I'm not leaping at your absence, but I never wished for you to fail. I'm a bigger person now, I'm not the little girl you thought was like her mother. Willing, excusing, not only of your behaviors, but of you.

As a little girl I understood why she did it, why she stood by you despite your faithlessness. As a little girl, I didn't understand why she got so angry she cried, cried to me, cried to you, cried to gods she didn't believe in. You broke a good woman some days, and I'll never forgive you for that; but I will forgive being human. Because at the end of the long, restless, days, you are still, human.

I gave myself time. Like I had given you. All the time we could need, and more, and nothing ever changed and nothing ever will and, I think I'm okay with that now. You don't make dying horses drink, you don't lead dead men to water, and I won't with you. Not anymore.

I heard you had a new family. Heard you've stepped up to your roles. Heard you found peace. Though never hearing from you, I almost relish in what I hear.

Thank you, For setting the example of what not to look for, not just in men, but in people. For all it was worth, you did leave a few good things behind. Besides me and the others.

[asinnersalibius]

just because music isnt playing doesnt mean im not listening to it

[asinnersalibius]

Doesn't help that my birthday's in August. Despite your proprietary, goodbye, august.

hello august you piece of shit

[asinnersalibius]

[asinnersalibius]

Trista Mateer, from "Aphrodite Made Me Do It," originally published in 2024

[asinnersalibius]

Am I Lonely?

Am I lonely? Is that subjective? Does it matter? Do I?

I wonder

Are they really my friends? Or am I just so consistent they don't have a choice? Am I nice? Or is it just easier to be nice than exert the energy to be honest? Am I lonely? Or are people just one of those things I just don't understand?

I wonder

Do I care? If I'm lonely I mean, I think I do, I want to. It's a very complex emotion, and it's one of those things that don't come alone. Am I lonely? Or am I tired? It is unfathomably late and there's a voice in my head that's been whispering sweet nothings since midnight. Is it the hour? Or the day? Maybe the time, not just the hour. Am I thinking too much? Making myself believe I'm lonely? I could be faking it. Just to feel something, but if that's the case why must it be lonely?

I think I just want to be understood. For someone to look at me, see me, and go, "Oh honey," I want a hug, I want it to feel real, not just a formality, I want to be trusted; I want to trust.

God, Am I lonely? Is that my tragedy? Am I surrounded by love I will never see? What a tragedy indeed. Am I lonely?