Mundane things that feel like art to me :
Long fingers playing piano, rough and big hands rubbing on moisturizer gently, nimble yet soft touches on the face, a sweet smile you give to someone and you realize that you are genuinely happy and feel beautiful because of them, someone playfully but carefully tugging on your hair to grab your attention, fast typing of the keyboard while words tumble out of your brain, that huge spark in those eyes of yours when you understood something you've been working on, little scribbles of lyrics and poems, when you put effort into something and work hard for it, the way you pause to look at trees, and kindness and smiles and hugs and soft gentle forehead and cheek kisses.
-Kaali
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I haven't the slightest idea when I'll pivot back around to Worst Isekai so I thought I'd leave this here.
Just a small taste and hopefully one day it's liked or reblogged and reminds me of it enough to commit/start/finish it.
The locket is from your dearest friend.
The most humble, loving friend that inspired your dream to find comfort in normalcy. To want that.
They sucked at baking bread but tried anyway.
Over and over again, learning and growing at (perhaps) a slow rate. But it was a labor of love and showed you how some things are worth the struggle. It didn't come naturally to them but they did it anyway.
And they were happy, so damn happy, to do it all over and over again. Joy found in failing and getting back to it. Scrapping, regrouping, experimenting and just trying even when it looked like they were doomed to fail.
Maybe you loved them in the simplest way possible. With your whole heart. Silly baker with a crooked smile. So lackluster and ordinary and breathtaking.
You could see a seed of greatness inside them, ready to bloom. But they saw no need for it. They didn't want to bloom into legend.
And somehow, more baffling than this unambitious want, was that they saw something in you too. Something humble and gentle. Kind like moist dirt in the spring. Snowdrops peaking out under powder. Sunshine on a worn, wooden porch stretching across the lazy barn cat on a cool summer's eve.
They looked at you like you could be anything you wanted. But that it would be infinitely more rewarding to be happy.
And you loved them all the more for it.
Their picture kept in a locket resting over your heart a reminder of how close you could be to real peace. True happiness that didn't crush you in a cold, unyielding grip. Pressure all around you, making your bones creak in protest.
You don't need greatness.
Or glory or fame or power.
You wanted to be happy and perfectly ordinary. Loving all the humble gifts the next day would bring without tears and blood as penance.
Just like them.
And in it's own, deeply ironic, way, that was the most extraordinary thing of all.
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"Don't just throw ripped jeans away, you can repair them using these 10 cute Visible Mending techniques!!" unfortunately my friend the first point of failure for every single pair of jeans i have owned in my life has been the Crotch and Ass. Knees: fine, cuffs: fine; but 3 years in, and all that stands between the world and my astronaut-patterned taint is 0.5Β΅m of denim worn so thin that every squat threatens to tear it to shreds like wet toilet paper. If the Tiktok craft community could figure out a way to resurrect jeans afflicted in such a way that doesn't involve adding a whole ass buttpatch like some sort of inverse assless chaps situation then that'd be great
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The thing they don't tell you about fried egg runny yolk is that if you put it in a sandwich it will be the best most delicious thing and you can mop up the egg with the bread, but in exchange you Will get so so messy and covered in egg yolk
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your teeth are a gift from god and you can sink them into other people's flesh btw
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