WittyProfileName2 [she/her]

Cofiwch Dryweryn england-cool

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Joined 4 years ago
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Cake day: March 15th, 2021

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  • Not sure if I’d class it as the craziest moment of my life, but it was like a scene out of a sitcom:

    When I was a teenager I briefly worked part-time at a place that refurbished various household appliances. Donations came in through the front and ended up in back with very little looking over. We took all sorts in and the workshop floor was split into various departments based on what appliances they dealt with. I was a new hire and they were still cycling me 'round various departments, my least favourite one was when I was assigned to cleaning out used ovens.

    One day this box came in and, like, we opened it up and there were various electronic massaging gizmos. So, my supervisor is pulling 'em out, he passes some of 'em to me to give a lookover to make sure they’re clean and do, like, PAT tests and stuff.

    I’m plodding along and he gets to work on the rest himself. I’m doing the tests on this thing that’s like a plastic plate with this piece on the top vaguely shaped like a pair of cupped hands, when my supervisor calls me over to lend a hand. He’s got this black tube that goes a bit wider on one end, about as thick as my wrist. It looked kinda like a torch but with a cap screwed over the bit the light’s in.

    His hands are a bit slippy so he’s having a hard time unscrewing the cap, so he asked me to have a go. Wider end pointed away from me, I wrapped my hand around the cap and gave it a good twist. The first clue I had that something was amiss was that my supervisor went bright red. I asked him what’s wrong and just told me to see for myself, so I turn the thing in my hand and see this silicone orifice looking back at me.

    That was how I learnt what a fleshlight is.






  • I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and then try to envision everything my body just did to take that breath.

    The intercostal muscles expanding an’ the diaphragm contracting to make a vacuum in the thoracic cavity.

    The air rushing down my trachea, into my bronchus, then into the bronchioles.

    The alveoli swelling individually as the air fills 'em.

    My lungs filling the vacuum that the muscles created.

    It’s a lot of things to keep ahold of all at once, so there ain’t the space in my mind to keep thinking of what annoyed me (until some daft bastard goes and does it again mind you).


  • I operate on the assumption that the overwhelming majority of people are nice, though I’ve run into more than my fair share of strangers that are complete dickheads. It feels like I’ve run into way more people who treat me kindly than cruelly (but that just be my own biases affecting my recollection).

    Problem is, interacting with other people is tiring and after a long day I just want to curl up and stop existing but people waiting for the bus want to chat and strangers stop me in the street to make small talk.






  • I don’t know how you walked away from The Shape of Water with such a shallow reading, but eh, not everyone’s taste in films is the same.

    I have a great dislike for the sorts of horror films where horror is conveyed entirely by long drawn out tension into a jumpscare. It bores me and then I stop caring about what’s going on in the film. The Woman in Black is one that immediately springs to my mind, ironically because of how bland I thought it was. It’s what you’d get if you told chatGPT to write the script for a horror movie. Just a bloke stumbling 'round a house at night being scared by random shit punctuated by daytime exposition scenes. I know it was trying to trying to say something about grief but I just couldn’t care enough about it after the spooky violin lead up to the protagonist being startled by a tap making a loud noise when he turned it on.








  • spoilers for Dark Souls 2

    Meeting King Vendrick at the end of the catacombs.

    Since you first reached the hub town (Majula), you’ve been told that Vendrick has the means to cure the undead curse and all you need to do is find him. And so the entire game up 'till this point has been about reaching his castle and then when you discover he isn’t there, tracking him down to the very bottom of the catacombs.

    At the end of a long corridor full of enemies, past a recurring boss fight against one of Drangliec’s many dragon riders, you pass through the fog wall and face Vendrick’s bodyguard, Velstadt. It’s an okay fight, not particularly flashy or difficult but at least it’s not Prowling Magus.

    Velstadt falls, and the only way forward is a short, narrow corridor that opened up behind him. The corridor leads down into an unlit room and in the dark you can faintly make out some large shape moving about the farthest side of the room to you.

    As you get closer you hear Majula’s familiar theme begin to play as the creature in the room takes shape before your eyes.

    It’s Vendrick, succumbed to the undead curse.

    So hollowed by now that he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence, instead slowly walking the same circle in a loop. His withered arms barely able to raise the sword he once used to slay the king of the giants.

    “What am I supposed to do now?”

    As I sat there trying to figure out what my next steps were supposed to be, I couldn’t help but contemplate Vendrick’s fate.

    Time and time again this game presents you with the inescapable nature of death. Of how no matter how good a life you lived it will come to an end. No matter what legacy you try to secure it will crumble and be forgotten. The iron king in all his tyranny is naught but ichorous earth now, even Vendrick is dead (though his body hasn’t caught up on that yet).

    “If life is short, and my deeds are inevitably forgotten,” I thought to myself, “Why the fuck am I living as a man when doing so makes me miserable?”

    Long story short, the next day I finally worked up the courage to talk to my GP about a gender service referral.