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night time would be so beautiful and fun if all men had a curfew
Oh my god my mind runs wild thinking of all the things I’d do in the dark if there were no men out after 9.
I would wear a pretty dress and walk
just take a long look at this post and realise how fucked this society is k
Anonymous asked:
What if you gave an unseelie fey/faerie your wrong name or a different name so they couldn’t use it against you? Would they know it’s not your real name?
the-modern-typewriter answered:
“Clever thing,” the unseelie said softly. It sounded less like praise and more like dangerous on the fey’s lips. They circled the human, eyes bright as a cat’s in the darkness of their personal urban jungle. “You know your fairy tales.”
The human tracked their movements, heart pounding in their chest. It would be foolish to assume being nameless kept them safe. It just kept them from being stolen. Puppeted.
The unseelie’s head tilted. “Of course,” the fey continued. “I’m sure the stories also tell you that my kind are not fond of being lied to.”
“You asked me if you may have my name. I answered - with all due respect, you may not. My name is my own.”
The unseelie laughed them. Maybe it was a little bit praise. Maybe a little bit of praise was in itself a little bit of dangerous, when it fed the fey’s attention and that hungry, appreciative look on their face. The unseelie came to a stop in front of them and held out a hand to shake.
“Not so clever that you didn’t come here though,” the fey said. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance then.”
Politely, the human shook. Up close, the unseelie smelled like frost, or a forest after rain, or maybe the earth after a lightning strike. Some subtly powerful and nebulous thing that exposed their true nature.
The unseelie bowed their head, eyes still fixed on the human as their lips brushed with some old-time courtesy over the back of the human’s knuckles in a disarming kiss.
“The pleasure is all mine,” the human murmured right back. “I’ve heard a lot about your work. I’ve brought payment, I hope it will be enough.”
The shop was a rickety building, unassuming from the outside, and filled with every manner of musical instrument in the world. All fey had their skills and preferences for arts, but the unseelie in question was famed for their instrument craft.
The fey smiled, all teeth. “You’ll know if it isn’t.”
The human resisted the urge to swallow. Simple cash didn’t tend to work with this particular retailer, and it was tricky at any given time to say what would, though there were always rumours.
Most people didn’t find it worth it. Some fools came for curiosity. Others came because the unseelie’s skill was unparalleled. A fey piano never needed tuning again, their strings never snapped, their music was somehow impossibly sweeter. All of the best musicians had come here to find their piece.
“Play me something,” the fey commanded. “Then we will discuss your payment.”
The human released a breath, a steadying shiver of nerves. They looked around the shop at all the beautiful and sometimes strange pieces, intricately carved, exquisitely made.
They settled by the piano.
There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere in the store, and the pages of the music book rustled open on their own.
The human sat down upon soft velvet, ghosting their fingers over the keys with a sharp longing.
The unseelie’s attention was intent on their back.
The human closed their eyes and began to play.
The fey was silent after, and the human didn’t dare look back at them, breathing hard as if they’d just ran a marathon.
“Such a clever thing,” the unseelie whispered, in the darkness. Then their voice was normal, as much as a fey’s ever was. “Come by tomorrow night, twilight. I will have what you need.”
“And the payment?”
They glanced over, finally, and was very glad they knew their fairy tales. The look burning in the unseelie’s eyes told them they would not have walked out again. They would have stayed here, played forever, played until they couldn’t, until their bones broke or they went mad for it.
“One day,” the unseelie promised, “you will not be so clever.”
This Man With Severe Cerebral Palsy Created Mind-Blowing Art Using Just A Typewriter
Last year, 22-time Emmy award-winning reporter John Stofflet posted this news video he created for KING-TV in 2004, featuring Paul Smith and his artistic talents.
“Self Organization”, aka, The octopus sculpture Bronze, 3'x3’, found typewriter by Oakland artist Courtney Brown
(via Colossal)
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There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
Ernest Hemingway (via psych-facts)
The Typewriter Series (Tyler Knott Gregson)
- Aries: "I will miss you always, even in the moments when you are right beside me. Time apart has planted longing inside me and I do not think it is a weed that will ever stop growing. It will always live there, but my god it grows the most spectacular flowers."
- Taurus: "The words aren't falling out of my mouth in the same ways anymore. Once they felt like water, they leaked and rose and baptized me new, halo fresh without the glow. They explode now, confetti in a slight breeze and I am racing around to pick up the pieces."
- Gemini: "Press you ear to my chest and listen, where a heartbeat should sing you will hear the melancholy songs of tired whales. The unsettled sigh and explosion of breath as they find the surface once again. Can you taste the salt on my lips?"
- Cancer: "When my arms wrap around you can you feel my fingers clinging to the fabric of your clothes? 'You hug me like I might blow away,' you whispered, but all the fabric wrapped in all my fingers was not to keep you here, but to go with you when you did."
- Leo: "You have never had to steal my breath or take it away, somehow you have always managed to convince me to hand it over freely."
- Virgo: "Maybe if I were instead a baby bird, you wouldn't always have to come up with excuses for holding me soft and tender in your hands. Maybe if I were instead a baby bird, I wouldn't always have to come up with excuses for not flying away from here."
- Libra: "And if light shall fade and fall to black, let the sound of wing beats sing that you're coming back. And if dark shall stain and ink your wings, follow my whispers, to far off things."
- Scorpio: "What if it's the there and not the here that I long for? The wander and not the wait, the magic in the lost feet stumbling down the faraway street and the way the moon never hangs quite the same."
- Sagittarius: "Do you think it possible that some people are born to give more love than they will ever get back in return?"
- Capricorn: "I would love to say that you make me weak in the knees, but to be quite upfront and completely truthful, you make my body forget it has knees at all."
- Aquarius: "I pressed my ear to your chest and heard the ocean beneath your skin; tell me that the water's warm and I will follow you back in."
- Pisces: "Was there always this much night, and didn't the moon used to flirt with me from time to time? How do I cross this divide and will I ever know where you're hiding? I am reaching with fingers stretched."