đź‘»Ghost Boys đź‘»The Two Cinnamon rollsđź‘» IGÂ
I made a gif’d traditional study from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s unit on the anatomy of feathers using their remige example.
Hands exercise :)Â
“So. You are my gift.”
“I am, Your Grace.” The Lady murmured, head bowed. Her hands were chained in front of her, and she could see the dangling shadow of the key as the Queen let it swing loosely from her fingers.
“And you are okay with your Father giving you away like this?” The monarch’s voice was probing, questioning. The Lady shifted her weight, and bobbed her head.
“Where I come from, women are the property of men. Belonging first to their father, and then to their husband.”
It was the truth she was accustomed to. Her voice was as flat and unfeeling as iron, cold as a corpse. She resented the life she’d been born into - resented being nothing more than property. Hardly more than chattle.
Warm fingers gently tilted her chin up, and she found herself eye to eye with the Queen.
For as calm as her voice had been, her eyes reflected the opposite. Rage simmered beneath them - and yet the Lady felt no fear as she faced that anger.
“I am no man.” The Queen stated.
The Lady was quick to reply. “But in your Kingdom, women can hold property, can they not?”
“They can,” the Queen agreed, releasing her grip on the other. “But people are not property.”
“So what will you do with me?”
The movement was so quick that the Lady hardly registered it. Within the blink of an eye, her shackles were gone. She stared at the chains as they slid to the floor.
Her head whipped up in shock at the Queen’s voice.
“I will free you.”
Day #189
178 Days Until Avengers 4
things that made me stop wanting to die that require no effort whatsoever
change the color used to highlight text on your laptop
move the pictures on your wall
stack whatever clutter is in your room into piles even if you don’t have time to clean it all
slightly vary your commute, even just by one street
change where you sit and scroll aimlessly on your phone even if it’s only to the chair in your room instead of your bed
drink water or juice out of a wine glass in the morning because nothing is real
shower with the lights off, without music
buy $3 flowers at trader joe’s—they look bad next to the more expensive ones but they look so good in your room
start typing things you don’t post into your notes. your thoughts can be worth documenting even if you don’t deem them worth sharing
wake up super early just once. you don’t have to make it a habit it’s just extra satisfying to go to bed that night
listen to the entirety of your favorite album from 2015
“So. You are my gift.”
“I am, Your Grace.” The Lady murmured, head bowed. Her hands were chained in front of her, and she could see the dangling shadow of the key as the Queen let it swing loosely from her fingers.
“And you are okay with your Father giving you away like this?” The monarch’s voice was probing, questioning. The Lady shifted her weight, and bobbed her head.
“Where I come from, women are the property of men. Belonging first to their father, and then to their husband.”
It was the truth she was accustomed to. Her voice was as flat and unfeeling as iron, cold as a corpse. She resented the life she’d been born into - resented being nothing more than property. Hardly more than chattle.
Warm fingers gently tilted her chin up, and she found herself eye to eye with the Queen.
For as calm as her voice had been, her eyes reflected the opposite. Rage simmered beneath them - and yet the Lady felt no fear as she faced that anger.
“I am no man.” The Queen stated.
The Lady was quick to reply. “But in your Kingdom, women can hold property, can they not?”
“They can,” the Queen agreed, releasing her grip on the other. “But people are not property.”
“So what will you do with me?”
The movement was so quick that the Lady hardly registered it. Within the blink of an eye, her shackles were gone. She stared at the chains as they slid to the floor.
Her head whipped up in shock at the Queen’s voice.
“I will free you.”