Reading about the Ring of Gyges (Politeia, by Plato) is such an odd experience, because it feels so easily applicable to today's day and age. The Ring allows Gyges to become invisible and do however he pleases. Our usernames allow us this anonymity as well. Difference is that Gyges was the only one with this ring, while the internet is something that so many people have, allowing them to be cruel with a group, only making the anonymity greater.
The internet is to us what the Ring was to Gyges. We wear a mask of impenetrability that hides our own vulnerability, and while we keep the name of Jekyll, we indulge in the life of Hyde.
It's not an "abandoned" WIP, I didn't intentionally leave it in the forest to die and forget about it, it is a lost wip who wandered into the forest despite my pleas not to. I sit at the edge of the forest every day and hear it calling for help but there is nothing I can do. It is a haunting wip
So, obviously classic wizard robes aren’t wheelchair friendly. (Alright, admittedly this isn’t common knowledge and also this definitely isn’t a problem for most but listen, this is a problem for me and I’m pleased to present a solution for it nonetheless.)
The issue is in the sleeves and the length of the robes. The traditional trumpet style allows them to get snagged, dirty, and caught in the wheels.
This is distinctly not an issue with other mobility aids such as canes and crutches, these wizards are fine to carry on with their trumpet sleeves simply rolled up if needed.
Now, one solution might simply to shorten the sleeves and hem to be out of the way, but that looks rather silly so I won’t do that. Instead I propose the more elegant design of a hanging sleeve to maintain that flowy magical feel while allowing for better range of motion.
Honestly I just love the look of hanging sleeves in general and think more people should appreciate them, wheelchair user or not.
Throwback thursday to when I was like 12 and I was putting out new writing DAILY...... Like entire Chapters of my then-current wips just, over an afternoon. What the fuck was I on
I guess Peter Pan was right
Growing up's a waste of time
So I think I'll fly away
Set a course for brighter days
Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire // "The Fairy Song" by Rose Fyleman // in image // unknown // Clarice Lispector, Selected Cronicas: The Egg And The Chicken // in image // John Keats, La Belle Dame Sans Merci // unknown // in image // in image // in image // in image // in image // Czeslaw Milosz, New and Collected Poems 1931-2001 // peter pan was right, Anson Seabra
thought about hyde and lanyon a little too hard and this appeared.
anyways henry having some (very repressed) resentment towards robert after their breakup which then got pushed on hyde after they split... mixed in with henrys (also repressed) lingering feelings for lanyon? oughhh. no wonder why he avoided him
also video version and still images! ignore the wonky and messy bits shwbsgdg
hhhhhhhhhhhhhh the pain of tumblr refusing to properly load the colours man (':
(this is my alt btw)
Drinking
So, what's your reason to drink?
Fun? Edginess? Addiction? Grief?
All four?
You know, I think I started drinking to escape my shitty daily life, but it's moreso become my daily life now, so I have to be honest that I'm unsure.
Maybe the gods are just punishing me for my stupidity. That's likely too.
Damn, what's that thousand yard stare about, Ond?
Ond?
Ond, look at me.
You're hyperventilating.
Ond!
It's still there.
Staring at me.
It's only gotten clearer.
What is?
Ond, stop!
Please, breathe!
Why aren't you working?
Why did you quit working on me!?
Stop!
For the love of the gods!
FUCK, OND!
Stop.
Now.
Please.
I-
Look at me.
Fremmed, I'm so-
Look at me, Ond.
I'm here.
You're safe.
You're safe here.
It can't get you here.
They can't get you here.
But please, for the gods' sake, don't ever throw a bottle at whatever it is you see again. Somebody could've been hurt.
We're lucky we're the only ones here.
But don't ever do that shit again.
Okay?
Fremmed, you're bleeding.
Oh.
Oh, I see.
Don't worry about it. It's just a scratch.
I'm sorry.
Just don't ever get scary like that again, okay?
You just-
Gods.
It's still there.
Don't throw anything at it, alright?
There's nothing there.