Dec. 16th, 2020

scrubjayspeaks: Town sign for (fictional) Lake Lewisia, showing icons of mountains and a lake with the letter L (Lake Lewisia)
For someone accustomed to going hungry from an early age, the idea of turning away good food simply didn't compute, no matter the strangeness of it appearing under park benches or bus shelters while he slept. The luxury of the dishes gave him more pause, because even the most kindhearted passerby didn't slip him a whole roast still steaming from some mystery oven, but that just meant he had plenty to share with the other people sleeping on his stretch of street. By the time the fairy came to collect its intended thrall, imagining him fattened nicely on all that fae food, half the homeless population of the city carried enough magic in their bellies to see the fairy and all of the 1800 block alley people could come and go from fairyland at will.

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LL#621
scrubjayspeaks: photo of a toddler holding an orange tabby cat (baby Joyce)
Oooooh, my head... I spent the day in noise hell, aka the washing room at work. Running a glorified and, more distressingly, amplified tumble dryer. For hours.

I wish for the comforting vacuum of space, where I don't have to listen to any more sounds.

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scrubjayspeaks: photo of a toddler holding an orange tabby cat (Default)
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