#but I still have hope- why do I always have hope? I am sisyphus thinking maybe this time will be the time and maybe if I roll the boulder

[copperrose1886]

Just got broken up with again, same girl that broke my heart so hard I created a tumblr account- so let’s see what new levels of degeneracy I unlock this time

#it’s not even a ‘breakup’ we’re just taking a break which means in about a month or so time when it inevitably still doesn’t work I’m gonna #have to feel this all over again #but I still have hope- why do I always have hope? I am sisyphus thinking maybe this time will be the time and maybe if I roll the boulder #just right it will actually work #and maybe she’ll actually love me #the things I put myself through for good head #my poor mutuals having to put up with this shit #btw if you’re her and you’re thinking is this my pathetic butch? then you did not see this #I’m taking this really well and being really cool about it thank you very much #anyways ending this unending stream of tags with a warning that situationships hurt twice as much as normal relationships #because you were never really something to begin with

[theoi-crow]

TW: religious trauma, threat mention, weapons mention, child neglect, homophobia, abuse, coercion and religious PTSD.

Why fearing a deity keeps me from developing a genuine relationship with that same deity.

I grew up Catholic and one of the first things my mother taught me was the concept of Heaven and Hell. Essentially after death one gets judged based on the actions they took while they were still living and is either rewarded with heaven or punished with hell. It was a simple concept to understand but it brought up a question that ultimately made me leave the religion.

Do I genuinely love God or am I afraid of his wrath? (Like a held hostage who is coerced into choosing options that won't upset my captor out of fear of his retaliation)

Even the reward of eternal bliss felt like it was designed to lessen the threat of eternal damnation as a consolation prize for all those years of panic attacks and anxiety over the thought of being sent to Hell. I always hoped for a third milder option that allowed me the freedom to develop a genuine relationship with God without said god having to rely on coercion. I wanted to experience an honest relationship without a weapon pressed against my back in case I made the wrong move or asked the wrong question.

Due to this looming threat, the relationship I had with God felt transactional and lacked genuine affection because I knew God's love for me was conditional and depended on me following arbitrary rules from a book written by a lot of different people (each author having their own agenda different from the rest so they were constantly contradicting each other because the different entries were written in different time periods and places with vastly different political movements specific to their locations and situations but were combined together, like a mass Tumblr post with over 50 blogs that don't all agree on what the rules should be).

The many rules always made me feel like Alice playing a game with the Queen of Hearts with rules that were unclear and no one was interested in explaining them to me until I did something they didn't like and were able to find something in the book that condemned me for it.

Having to adhere to these rules in order for me to be rewarded and not punished felt like a relationship between a gay child and homophobic parents that expected said child to act a certain way. If that child obeyed, they were rewarded with affection and approval, but if said child didn't, they were kicked out and forced to fend for themselves against a world that wasn't built to protect and help gay children. Being Christian felt like I had a leash around my neck being held by an entity that constantly told me he loved me, so long as I did what I was told.

I didn't think it was possible to love a deity without fearing them until I met my gods.

According to the ancient Greeks: Once a human dies they go to Hades. Unless they make some kind of undeniable mark in the world everyone goes to Hades.

If you were a famous and exceptional human that changed the world in a positive way you'd go to Elysium but you purposefully had to do something so extraordinary your legacy and name became well known because according to the Elysium wiki, in the beginning "only mortals related to the gods and other heroes could be admitted past the river Styx. Later, the conception of who could enter was expanded to include those chosen by the gods, the righteous, and the heroic." (LINK) The ancient Greeks believed the gods were in charge of giving people fame because those who were famous were often related to the gods (for example: people believed Pythagoras (the one that the Pythagorean theorem is named after) was either the son of Apollo, or Apollo himself: (LINK)

Tartarus is strictly for gods and humans can't go there but the worst humans are still punished by Hades as shown in the myths of Sisyphus (LINK) and Tantalus (LINK) but you have to royally eff up. You have to do it on purpose like enacting laws that target vulnerable people (both Sisyphus and Tantalus were kings and politically involved) or commiting mass genocide as examples of the severity I'm talking about. These are crimes against humanity you cannot accidentally do, they involve terrible deeds that are premeditated with the intent of destroying the lives of innocent people.

But if my main problem is the concept of Heaven/Hell, why am I bringing up Elysium, Hades and Tartarus, concepts that influenced how Heaven and Hell work? (LINK)

Because unless you choose to dedicate your life, time and energy and become famous for making an undeniable mark in history (an effort that isn't just you doing normal good deeds or making mistakes you later regret but actually dedicating your life and becoming well known for your efforts like activist Greta Thunberg, or purposefully hurting innocent people like serial killer Ted Bundy) everyone else goes to Hades and I love that because when I work with my gods I may not get automatic access to Elysium but there is no threat of eternal punishment either.

Which means I interact with my gods because I want to!

Not because I'll be rewarded or punished but because I want to interact with them and develop a genuine connection with them! There's no condition of me needing to convert others, in fact I don't even have to tell people I believe in them! (the gods understand the world can be a dangerous place for their followers due to the many religious wars and religious politicians in power).

I'm not required to talk about them! I'm not even required to keep this blog but I do it because I genuinely love them and I love talking about them! I've even changed majors mid semester in order to dedicate my life to learning about them. I'm studying to become an archeologist who specializes in the ancient Greek religion in order to make that information more accessible to Hellenic Polytheists and anyone else interested in the gods. I don't do it so the gods will reward me because I don't need them to, they will be just as happy if I delete this blog, quit my career and go about my day living my life. I do it because I love learning about the gods and I want to share the information I learned in case it helps those that are interested learn more about their gods too!

I've even made it my mission on Tumblr to share what I've learned about the gods to hopefully help others connect with their gods more easily especially for those who are having trouble connecting with them. And this was all unprompted. The gods literally had nothing to do with this. It was my own choice because there is a specific god I sometimes have trouble connecting with due to varying factors and it makes me feel awful when I can't connect with him, especially when I need his guidance the most so I want to help others avoid experiencing that feeling by letting them know they're not alone and helping them figure out what's blocking their connection because it can be a miserable experience.

My favorite part about a lack of reward and punishment is having the confidence to say I seek the gods because I want to seek the gods.

I walk with the gods because I want to walk with the gods. This is my will, my choice, and mine alone. No one is forcing me to do it and there isn't some big prize at the end if I do, I can stop anytime I want and nothing will happen. I have made an independent choice to seek the gods, meet them and got to know them and I can genuinely say I love them more than I ever thought was possible. I do.

I love my gods.

#greek gods #hellenic polytheism #helpol #pagan #personal #greek mythology #greek pantheon #religious trauma #tw religious trauma #tw childhood trauma #tw child abuse #tw threats #long post

[blackopals-world]

Oh, okay, I see! Umm. I have a couple things to throw out, that also have my own thoughts and I was also thinking of other possible Yuu ideas if you’re interested in them( just what their “!” Is for and personality, not who they’re matched with) and up to hearing about them. Uh. This ask though is for the creature post and-

Me, a person who loves mythology and folklore: My time has come-

Theatre kid!Yuu as a changeling(or some other shapeshifting creature, I know of the background surrounding changelings and can understand why one may be uncomfortable with changelings(I am also the ✨neurodivergent✨))

Harpy!Yuu as a Manananggal(I know that harpies are already mythical creatures, but think about it)

Maid!Yuu as a Brownie (yes, you read that right, though it can also be spelt “broonie” or “brùnaidh” and they are a type of fae, but ,ah)

Special Forces!Yuu as a Grim Reaper(I just think it’d be neat if their role was to guide and protect the dead on the way to the afterlife instead of being what people usually expect/think of reapers, and also because they themself are often depicted as scary and dangerous, and they are, but they more so just. Guide souls to the after)

Vet!Yuu OR Marine Biologist!Yuu as a Selkie(I want them to go on a rant of how selkies are NOT half seal half human, their lower body is NOT that of a seal!(this is my being frustrated by Selkie designs that aren’t actually selkies, but the art is still really good/nice))

Oookay, that’s all of them that I had prepared. Uh. And of course, these are just suggestions, you don’t have to add anything if you don’t want to or you can pick and choose which you’re interested, I hope this isn’t coming off as forced and I apologize if it does-

🎭Theater Kid!Yuu- Shapeshifter

The ultimate actor.

Can play any role and use any voice.

They spend time endlessly rehearsing.

Likes to play pranks by pretending to be an injured animal to have people take care of them.

Allergic to iron.

Will not use their powers responsibly

They don't consider any one form their true form. They simply are.

Agender icon.

"What's gender? Is it edible?"

🧹 Maid!Yuu- Brownie

Got inside after someone left a bowl of cream out

They set up shop and began cleaning at night.

During the day they hide out in the form of a dormouse.

They have a fuzzy tail

They fix up broken items. You might find an extra mismatched button on your shirts.

Don't leave a mess on purpose. It's impolite.

If they feel taken advantage of they with make a mess and leave.

Leave out a treat for them and they will reward you in kind.

You'll never lose an item again. It will appear just where you remember it. Unfortunately, that always the last place you look.

🔫Special Forces!Yuu-Reaper

It's hard work and the coworkers are the worst.

One of the many reapers tasked with dealing with the recently deceased.

Really prickly due to being constantly tasked with the most stubborn ghosts.

"Shut up before I kill you again!"

Believes Sam was a Reaper (is he? Possibly)

Their skin has white skeleton tattoos. But when they are working their skin turns translucent and reveals their actual skeleton.

Enjoys their job when they actually get to do it without problems.

Believes in the myth they tell all reapers about that guy sisyphus.

Their favorite job is chasing down wondering souls that are on the run.

💉Nurse!Yuu - Caladrius

They have white wings.

Gets confused for a angel but they are firm that they are not.

Their job is to take sickness and transfer it into their body. Then they fly away with it as they disperse it, healing themselves.

Gives away feathers to ward off danger and illness.

Hates that Savanaclaw students use them as a cat toy.

A long suffering birdy who is losing too many feathers.

🩺 Vet!Yuu- Werewolf

Not the same as beastmen and is firm about that.

They look human most of the time but the whole transformation thing gets in the way.

Is still a vet but if now they are liable to snap their jaws at patients.

They love a good nap in the sun but must resist.

Jack knows to keep his head down if he doesn't want to get along. That just how wolves do. Make nice in the pack or be pushed out.

They don't imprint. If you say that they will rip out your throat.

They don't have soulmates. They have normal relationships like normal people. They just believe in loyalty to make relationships last. They can change partners but they usually don't.

🌊Marine Biologist!Yuu- Selkie

Not a mer just a cute rolly polly seal.

Such a friendly face, but they have sharp teeth.

Keeps their seal skin hidden away.

These days if someone does take their skin they are trained to attack them. Watch out they go for the fingers first.

The seal skin is unique to every selkie so it can't be replaced.

They will always choose the ocean if it came between it and love. But Yuu is a strange Selkie.

They know the tale of Ursilla, a human who loved a male selkie. This is part of why they believe they are destined to be with Azul so that history repeats itself.

Selkies lure their human partners into the sea and most tales say they never return. Yuu attempted with Azul not knowing he was a mer. Very embarrassing.

#theater kid!yuu #maid!yuu #nurse!yuu #vet!yuu #marine biologist!yuu #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu #twst mc #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #special forces!yuu

[msofficerr]

Gathered Matters of Heart: A Literary Understanding of the Author and Perspective on the Anthology, "Lockdown Litanies: Countless Untold Stories", an Analysis by Alvia Lacambra

Everyone undergoes the blues. When you go through a daunting real world experience, it is natural to feel despair, solitude, or grief. And, for the most part, you can keep on going. You know you'll bounce back in time, so you do.

As I have read the poem “Dear Diary,”, I realized that the affectations in the poem are facing tough situations we cannot forgo. To just be alive and free despite the vast choices we have in life, that the human will is something not free but only shackling as it gives us choices that are sometimes hard and something we might regret after. Out of all of that we only want to take what feels real, because we only surrender ourselves in freedom and not the bluing choices that lingers it, hence the line; “I wronged people and myself, but I regretted none. I own up my mistakes in finally choosing freedom.” Reading this poem reminds me of the song Let it Happen by Tame Impala, where the song says “I heard about a whirlwind that's coming 'round. It's gonna carry off all that isn't bound, and when it happens, when it happens (I won't be holding on) so let it happen, let it happen.”

Then for the second poem, titled “The Tale of a Modern Sisyphus”, As per my perception of this poem, life is encountered as a never-ending loop of failures and accomplishments. And that no matter how many times we fall, let us not be frightened to get back up until the time is right. It's not like every time in life we will remain at the bottom; mainly, we will continue going until we unexpectedly reach the peak. Exactly as the poem states “Gracious to push the boulder up the mountain and start once again like nothing happened.” It makes me think of Tame Impala’s Feels Like We Only Go Backwards, where it says in lyrics “It feels like I only go backwards, baby every part of me says "go ahead". I got my hopes up again.” As it says, just keep on going and continue trying even though things are going upside down.

And for the third poem, entitled “O’ Yayi” (A Prose Poem), I was hurt as I read the poem. It seems like she's been with him, but she's thinking about his old lover, as if she loved him in the shadow of his former lover. However, the person in the poem's devotion is very genuine; he still understands the situation that occurred perhaps though he was existent, although he was not the sole person left in the memory of Yayi. Even despite the fact that he barely knew who Yayi would have chosen in his question "If ever I run out of time here and reach the other side, whose arms would you run back again, mine or Dante’s?”, he nevertheless hopes that if Yayi had the chance again to have things returned and choose between them, he would be the one chosen. Which reminds me of the song Home by Michael Buble, in the lines “And I feel just like I'm living someone else's life”, “And I know just why you could not come along with me that this was not your dream”. I am right now sobbing.

On to the next poem, “Two Red Laces on the Wonderwall”, It is about a lost love finding its way home until she met her wonderwall that led to found the two red laces of love. As if it was the sign of her fate to find the love she had always sought. And that she chose this to be her future and to take part with her in building a family together, hence the line; “And tried my luck with several men, but you felt like home, where I belong.”, and “Two red laces flowing down the wall. All because of you, I bare my soul.” which conveys that she found the one who will be with her raising a child. This poem reminds me of the song, “World We Created” by Giveon, in the lines “I just wanna stay in the world we created, I just wanna sink in the plans that we makin'.” It was like telling "forget about everyone but us."

And in the following poem, titled “Umbilical”, As a human who's been born, and as a female who was given the responsibility of delivering a child, the poem made me much more conscious of the struggles that mothers face in carrying the child in their womb until it is brought to life but also growing up. The line “The pain she suffered just for me to see.”moved me deeply. How precious the mother’s love can be for her to relent her own life to build a new one, reminded of Tupac Shakur’s Dear Mama, as it says “Sweet lady, place no one above you (you are appreciated) Sweet lady, don't you know we love you?”. And there's no way we can pay them back, the plan is to show them that they are appreciated.

For the sixth poem, entitled “RE: Paper (I’m Red, IMRaD)*”, I see nothing wrong with playing the long game in the field of education as it is the focal point of our path ahead. However, in today's education system, it is not innovative, as well as no strategy for changing it, and the unfortunate thing is that individuals continue to speak, yet no one pays attention. As it is just a phase of life that we have to overcome, and we will continue to do whatever it takes to make a living, however no. Is it just enough? It is every citizen's right to receive and provide a quality education system for the country's economic development. Is it that hard? “Help teachers help students. After all, we cannot give what we don’t have.” lines came from the poem, which directly tells that the management is not effectively managing. How can educators provide quality education when they were not provided with it themselves in the first place? This reminds me of the song Religion: Humanity by Skant Vee, Cash Koo, in the lines “Isipin mong mabuti kung sapat na ba lahat ng nalalaman mo sa iyong aklat, ayaw ko lang maging isang tulog na tao ang sanlibutan sa iyong hati-hating ugnayan”. The lyrics say it all.

And for the seventh poem, entitled “3AM Awakening”, From what I've read, the persona is exhausted from his existence and just wants his distress in the eyes of the judgementals to cease, which causes him to be tired and doesn't want the world he's in. In the lines “And so, breathe gently ten times and let go. Count seconds and feel the world down below.” As he attempts to relax and serene himself as it is a way of escaping from the cruel world he seems to be in. Which reminds me of my constant favorite song, December Avenue’s Sleep Tonight, as its lyrics says “There's a better place for you than to stay awake” as we use sleep as a safe haven.

On reading the eighth poem, entitled “My Frail Lady”, Based on its title, frail lady, it is widely recognized, as what this poem indicates to me is that she struggles to express herself to the point where it only accumulates within herself, causing her to be drowned in her own blues that suffocates her since she couldn't unleash her sorrow. “Book keeps her internal screams.” lines came from the poem, which reminds me of the song My Body Is a Cage by Arcade Fire, in the lines “I'm living in an age that calls darkness light though my language is dead still the shapes fill my head”, “Set my spirit free”, to let me breathe from the bluing venture of my piled sorrow.

On to the last poem, titled “Major Arcana”, reading this poem made me realize that being uncertain about our future appears to be a normal occurrence as we move forward, ignoring our difficult past and making this present wonderful in order for it to become a history of our years ahead. Hence from the line “And so you went in wonder and surprise for you have seen what lies ahead”, that now you know what awaits you, the only thing you can do is be cognizant of your foreseeable future, which will lead you to the coming years you crave and know is waiting for you. This poem reminds me of Moses Sumney Me in 20 Years, from its lyric line “Have I become the cavity I feared? Ask me in 20 years”.

[iloknalem]

The church bell rang again today

As it always has, the church in front of my apartment rings its bells every Sunday, without fail, at 9.45 am, for 5-7 minutes. Just the perfect duration to make a half boiled egg.

The church. It used to be so overcrowded, they built another church around one kilometre apart at the end of the 19th century. Nowadays, both of them doesn't even do weekly mass anymore. Seems like people would fall out of love for religion after the reality of 2 devastating wars hits in. I cant imagine the hopelessness those people felt, when the rock they stood on was unceremoniously swept away from under their feet.

But this is not a lesson about hopelessness. What caught me pondering was the guy ringing the bell. The church also rings at different hours of any other day, just a short ring, around 30 seconds.

I assume the guy must just be someone appointed by the catholic organisation, or whatever they call it, to maybe do the upkeep of the church and whatnot. Just another cog in the going-down-in-popularity-machine called catholicism. An honest man in the system, just doing his job, a symbolic job of what used to be the cornerstone of peoples life, nowadays only done for formalities. A function, stripped of its significance— shortly said, its useless

Nobody comes anymore to the church, the bell is just a noise polution at this point. The Germans are pretty stingy about noise on Sundays, and yet here they are, ringing their old bells again,

and now i wonder, how does he feel about his job. I used to be someone who thinks that everything needs to have its own purposes, its destiny, its contribution to the society. This job looked pretty useless to me, it lacks any real meaning nor purpose. I thought, if i was the man tasked to ring the bells, i wouldn't be happy with what i do— i wouldn't be content with my life.

The closest comparison might be the legend of Sisyphus. After 2 times eluding his fate to die, he was punished to roll a boulder to the top of the hill, and watch it rolls back down, endlessly. A completely, useless, destiny i must say. And yet here we are, in life, facing the same reality in one way or another.

Some of us maybe are said to have been lucky, to have found "find the meaning of the universe", to maybe work in their dream job, have a dream family, fulfill their destiny for the world.

And yet, i think those kinds of wishful thinking, the "expectations" of a perfect life and their understanding of it, potrayed in social media, in our society, is just a naive way to give purpose in this funny game we play called life. Its just religion 2.0, its there to give comfort, to justify that everything we do have its own meaning in the grand scheme of things, or to simply give that push to wake up in the morning and do our day-to-day duties. A sense of hope, the light at the end of the tunnel, whatever you want to call it. A normalized addiction.

At this point, you might think i would go all nihilistic to say that life is meaningless, and therefore theres no point in justifiying the meaning of what we do. I dont think its like that.

I do think theres a reason on why things are. Reasons, for why stars shine, why water flows, and why the world revolves. Yet, our understanding, or in this case our lack of understanding, underlines the puniness of human nature, how small and insignificant we are. These humbling factors, we need to acknowledge them first to understand, to realize our inability to parse the meaning of life.

Theres still a lot of things that we still dont know, a lot of things we need to sit on, discuss about, and figure out together something other than "42". This, gap, between our teeny tiny minds and the meaning itself, some people call it the absurd— the absurdity of life. Theres still a long way to go, and i dont think were gonna get the answer in our lifetime, at least not mine. Until i die, i wouldnt get the answer of why my coffee spilled this morning, or why i needed to get through a lot of hardships, too much so that it seems comical, that i think someone is voodooing me. I mean, i know why i spilled my coffee, thats because i tripped on my table, but i will never know the reasoning behind it, in the grand scheme of things.

To try to find the meaning of everything is to embark on an endless journey that often leads to more confusion than clarity, It is futile. It's more liberating to accept that some things might remain enigmatic, allowing us to appreciate life's mysteries without being weighed down by the relentless pursuit of meaning.

There are a lot of solutions for this "problem" we have, which is our nature to seek reasoning, and the overbearing non definitive meaning of life. Some seek to find their own meaning for themselves, some threw all reasons and morals out of the window. Some find comfort in accepting their insignificance and prefer to not live at all. None of them are wrong i must say.

For me, I think that I must try to confront the absurd, to not give in to the situations and conditions we are given, as we are free to do what we want, to be where we want to be, as long as you want to challenge life itself. This part, im still figuring out on what to say about it, its still a journey for me.

One must imagine that sisyphus is happy, that he's content with what he does fully knowing that what hes doing is absurd, for the struggle itself is enough to fill one man's heart. One must not question the reason, and just embrace the happy things in life, the lofty goals we make, the stupid obstacles we find, the sorrows we endure, to laugh, to learn, to love, and therefore to live. Life is absurd, and thats okay.

And therefore i conclude that the bell guy has a chance, and might have found happiness too in doing what he does. I hope he does.

To not be a slave of destiny is the way to live, and thats how i want my attitude on life to be. Its going to be my own adventure on challenging the absurd, and im going to define how it will be as much as i can. Obstacles are going to come and go, and theres no deeper meaning in it other than to learn from it and to embrace it —to embrace the absurd.

#sisyphus #absurdism #albert camus

[f0urcake]

I do my worst

Ever wonder what a Philosophy major who attempts to write into the void for hours (Read: despite the writer's block) in a coffee shop looks like? To simply put into words, this is what might have happened today, and the vulnerability that can come out of it.

Earlier today, I had opened the door of the coffee shop nearby my former school expecting to see a despairing, screaming woman in an insurmountable writer's block, like Sisyphus and his rock, and the endless unchanging hill. But instead— I saw a woman sitting in the corner near the window, far from screaming, but writing and pushing against an invisible wall of her screen that refuses to budge – worse, moving only by inches while listening to music so loud that she does not even notice I walk in.

 She appears calm,

      even though she is burning on the inside. It is like standing in an anechoic chamber and screaming.

 She has even tuned herself out, staring at the empty Word document – the white page blinding her. The more honest truth is that she cannot bring herself to write.

 The words have dried up in her over the rim of her hot brew coffee, have simmered and rotted and died just like the piping hot steam locked up inside the boiling kettle across her seat that has been singing its starving coffee’s ocean dream for 19 minutes. And so, she could not bring herself to feign surprise when it began to pipe its way out of the kettle; even something as hot tap run its pain which boils with rage, a swamp of desires can rise up in the place of the war she conjured and fled from. I do not blame it. The door of the coffee shop is open, and so the steam rose outside it while the woman stayed in her sit— holding the mouse, the blinking cursor begging her to write something; words parched, hands cracked, knowing that the mirages of what she wants will always be sweeter than what this coffee shop has to offer.

 Because there is something absurd about the act of putting words and emotions clawing out of her, desperate to be written and read out in other coffee shops. I am sure many writers have felt this is some consolation. I do not know how they managed not to walk away because I contemplate it every day whenever I visit the woman in the same coffee shop. What is this life she is living? Why not just let the bagel consume her (a la Everything Everywhere All at Once) when everything she does feels like a fool's errand? I think something inside of her has broken, and there is no way to mend it that would not require her to sacrifice everything. And yet, she barely has anything.

It is all vague and wishy-washy, perhaps because she is afraid to be too vulnerable with the piece she is yet to write. Because naming it would make it indelible. And so, for the first time today, she gets up from her writing spot to realize that she has written nothing, and she doesn't see the point in it if only as a shout into the void. If only as a cry of desperation.

 It's getting so difficult to bring herself to write inside that coffee shop as she stares and stares, her eyes burn and her heart aches with defeat, and the document stays open until the laptop shuts down.

 And I am still here

          while the woman at the corner attempts yet again to find something to say— anything while the hot steaming coffee on her table sits abandoned, as Leonard Cohen said a broken hallelujah.

 She is trying to be tender,

 despite,

      despite,

           despite.

 I hate that little self-preservation instinct of hers the most. I would rather just give in sometimes. Most times. But she does not let herself because she did not come this far for nothing. The grand irony. But right now, after finally visiting yet again the woman in the coffee shop who had locked herself in that same seat, I wonder how Sisyphus copes with it.

 Still, one hopes for brighter days until I find the courage to invite her to other coffee shops, even if the cold brew she had there wasn't any better.

 That has to be enough.

 After all, regardless of where it lands or who is there to receive it, I have to find a way to make it enough for her once she starts writing again some vital parts of herself. But right now, I would've just given up my pen and sat there with the unrolled rock for the rest of eternity.

 A protest.

[paloma-rosada]

🧿🧿🧿

I’ve spent the past two holiday seasons alone, and I’m trying not to blame myself. I feel like I have a lot of growing to do, and the relationships I’ve found myself in recently don’t align with who I want to be. 

I feel like I’m in a period of my life where my entire environment is evolving; I’m finally coming into everything I’ve ever wished for. I’m realizing. though, that there is a huge sacrifice attached to everything I’ve ever wished for.

I want to complain (in a sense) but truly, I am grateful. I’m focusing on self-care and relaxing.

Life had been turbulent for years now, and I think it’s time for me to finally go for everything I want. The obstacles are a challenge, and I can’t be scared of defeat. I know my limits, and if I’m being honest i’ve been comfortable for too long now.

I am my own safety net, and as long as I am okay and content with my environment then I’m on the right path. I’m going through a sudden transformation recently. Life is knocking me off my feet; but I predicted this.

It’s the most ironic part; my intuition always warns me, but I go through with it anyways. That’s the biggest mystery of this all. Why do I go through with it, when everything in me is saying no?

I’m speaking for my past experiences, though. At least I think I am; I’ still young, and as they say, history repeats itself. I just hope I’m smart enough to learn from my mistakes.

If you’re still reading, I’m just speaking into the abyss right now. I’ve been reading Albert Camus The Myth of Sisyphus and it is existential as hell. It makes me think, but it also makes me angry. I haven’t finished it yet, so that’s not a solid review fyi.

Like and share if if you wanna keep reading more of me. I’m 21, from Boston, MA. follow me on instagram @cipota.seca, DMs and Q’s always open, until next time;

❤️R.M.❤️

🧿🧿🧿

[muffysisthecarbs]

when i was younger I felt so useless. there always came a point in my friendships when that friend would abandon me. always every single friend. so obviously I was the problem. all these different friends over all the years no matter how much i changed, they all eventually realized that they didn't wanna talk to me anymore or they wanted someone else more. the first time it happened i was in 4th grade and it kept happening. I try so hard to be a good friend and i really keep thinking i am a good friend but eventaully the people im close to decide im annoying or im not cool enough. it mostly happened in my school years. its always my fauly. like. they all do it. all these different people so obviously im the problem. but i dont know what;s the problem. like dana if im texting you that i feel like shit today and my brain feels like mush and i wanna see you why arent you replying specfically to the message where i say i wanna see you. especially after yesteray i askedyou to hang out and you said yes after a birthdya party you were going to but then you never left the party and then told me you were drunk. why am i not important enough for you to say "okay im gonna get to the party at 12pm ill leave at 3:30 so so we can hang out at 4" why arent you answering my 2 messages that i wanna see you cause i feel like shit and i feel hollow. why arent i important enough to take care of. why isnt my love enough for poeple why dont people like my love? why isnt christian talking to me anymore? its been 2 weeks of silence. i ena i know why they arent talking to me becausse before their flight i made a joke about how i didnt want their plane to crash and the joke was that i did want it to crash "gee wiz i sure do hope your plane doesnt crash 🥺.....🤭" and then you ask me whats wrong with me? but when you told your boyfriend that i got hit by a car when i was 6 you couldnt stop laughing. you always laugh when you tell people i got hit by a car. and im okay with it cause it is funny in a morbibd way. you love making morbid jokes. why is my morbid joke enouhg to not talk to me for 2 weeks. silent treatment wowie. when I told Sam in 10th grade that she was "being flippant" as a joke because we had just learned "flippant" in vocabualry she texted erica that im so rude and now she "understand why [Erica] treats [me] so badly" because erica did treat me very badly. she would ignore me and yell at me and ditch me and insult me. and everyone knew it and sam knew it and she told erica that she gets it now. im worthy of being treated badly. im in so much pain and im so sad and im so alone. and YOU KNOW WHAT KILLS? this isnt new I keep being sad and alone. like persistnelty.

i keep getting emails and breaking my neck to check my pgone cause i think its someone texting me but its never a friend. i dont get love. but really i dont think i even want love. i want obsession i want someoen to love me more than i love them. i dont evne have the BALLS to kill myself and i want to so bad which is anothe fialure on my part. lol being suicidal is a faliure and failing at suicide is a failure jesus christ was a life of snwoballing failure. im not cry typing im just bad at typing and whats the point in fixing a typo lol? what even is this desire to publicize these thoughts? no one reading this could do anything to help. no one reading this knows me. by this far in this who is even reading this? i have a therapist. ive had two! im such a faker lmfaoooo. its 3:19 pm I skipped work yesterday and toyda which is amother failure on my part. im in pain. how can i work when im in pain how can i live when im in pain? so the answer is obviously to die. but its not.

in a sisyphus way its obviousl not the answer to die. but i still want to. why isn't suicide okay? why can i just decide as an adult that i dont wanna live anymore and then kill myself? should i show up at hte hospital and be like "hi i havent made an attempt on my life but im super suidical right now" that would be so embarassing. im so scaredddd of being aliveeeeee ahhhhh and its crazy cause im already alive.

im scared im sscared of snakes but thats okay cause i never have to interact with snakes. im scared of being alive but im constantly being alive. cronic anxiety slay? i have to pee. i spedn a lot of time wishing for something bad to happen to me. i pray for cancer a lot. a quick one. cancer to excuse me from the responsibilities of life and then i can kill myself and everyone will be able to justify my suicide more. why dont i matter? why do i have to prove my value? and why is my attempts to prove it never enough. i just wanna receive love!!!!!! from my friends. my friends dont love me. love doenst make peolpe treat others liek this. yadda yadda yadda shut up dumb bitch all this talking for what? nothings gonna change lmfao

[sl-walker]

If I may ask; what is your opinion of Rebel's Era (canon) Maul?

Whilst I didn't feel like he was written out of character per se and I understand that Rebels aired prior to TCW Season 7, I felt like it was somewhat disappointing after what happened during Order 66.

I understand that he has lost hope and is, very reasonably, afraid of Sheev, but there's a few things that confuse me like the fact that whilst running the biggest criminal empire he never looked for Kenobi prior to Rebels (he knew Ashoka survived, so why shouldn't Kenobi?) or how exactly he ended up on Malachor and nobody came to look for him their criminal boss. Now the Dathomir-part was actually interesting, but I do feel, yet again, like it could have used more exposition and explaination considering he was there like 3x times in his entire life and everyone's dead, so who even sustained the Ichor after Talzin's death? Maul wasn't on Dathomir for at least some time.

It just felt like they knew Maul would draw in viewers, not like they had a plan for his character and that was kind of a pity?!

Obviously Maul couldn't interfere with pre-existing canon but at some point I really wondered why he was still in the story considering that Ezra's literal use of the darkside, due to Mauls prior influence & the holocron, for what we can assume to be months never mattered again after a single episode for some reason.

I love seeing Maul but I wished they did more with his character? I mean, it hurts to read e.g. Son of Dathomir, but it's still good and builds his character.

The only major thing I found consistent was him missing Savage, which obviously just broke my heart.

Dying by Kenobi's hand was poetic, but of course really sad and I wished there had been more to this scene - either conveyed through animation/dialouge or by having them part ways differently.

Also I can't believe Maul - a criminal mastermind - didn't manage to figure out that Kenobi was on Tatooine after seeing Twin Suns for almost the majority of a season. You know. The guy who used to track and hunt down whomever Sidious required him too for years. The same zabrak that basically ran a prison into the ground in lockdown whilst not/barely even touching upon his force powers and finding the dealer who managed to stay undercover for probably decades. Also the planet they literally first met.

I know the creators and Sam Witwer have repeatedly liked Maul to Sisyphus, but I don't think this applies to Rebel's Maul. Rebel's Maul, besides his motivation/need to find a new brother apprentice, just seems so hopeless and borderline suicidal? He doesn't know if it's worth trying anymore, which makes the idea of running a criminal empire so odd, seeing as he knows his insignificance to Sidious, whose downfall is all he is really yearning/hoping for. I know that his desperation always rivals his intense need to survive, but I really didn't got the latter from Rebels.

Idk, maybe it's just me, but I'm very keen on your thoughts.

(2/2) I'm asking you in particular about Rebels Maul because I feel like maybe I might be missing something or am lacking a certain insight into his character which you might have.

I think Solo made about as much sense as tits on a boar. I even said that when it came out. Maul's whole purpose to building a criminal empire was to have enough power to get to Kenobi. He had no interest in being rich or anything else, and frankly, even in TCW, he left Almec to run things on Mandalore while he nursed his grudge. So this whole Crimson Dawn crap is just-- weak. It makes no sense. It was fanservice.

I'm sure I've written my opinions on Rebels before, but in brief:

1.) Maul's characterization wasn't terrible, but the writing was super fucking lazy. No kidding. Especially his ending. That was Filoni basically splooging all over himself about how dEeeEEeP he was being without realizing... man, nothing here even makes sense. He took a character he didn't create and didn't want to bring back in the first place and giggled to himself behind his stupid hat because he got to kill him off. Since Disney's shit, they're like, "Oh, sure."

2.) Maul already hurt Kenobi and took his revenge when he skewered Satine. Like you, I think the only reason he would have sought Kenobi out would have been because he wanted closure. Be it death or simply some ending. I explored what would have happened had Kenobi been a proper adult and apologized for his part in Maul's suffering when I wrote In defiance, because I absolutely believe they could have done some considerably more interesting with all of that.

3.) Honestly, like-- every time they've killed Maul off in canon, it's been a dumbass mistake. Because he's popular and once you close-end a character, it becomes a lot harder to do anything meaningful with them in canon. Because they offed him, he will never have a genuinely meaty storyline again and will forever be relegated to cheap cameos that capitalize on his popularity.

Dunno if that's what you're looking for Anon-buddy. Mostly, I just think the ending of Maul in Rebels came down to super lazy writing.

#salt mines

[ceilingfan5]

I am not kidding when I say I did not choose this order for the prompt ask on purpose these were the ones I thought were fun and a bit more unique-ish for TAZ fandom at least so Taakitz and 11. 12. And 13.

send me a prompt!

11: Grocery store 12: mistaken for couple 13: kissing

Normally, Kravitz fucking hates the grocery store. It makes him feel insane. Every time he goes with a strict plan of the six things he’s going to get, he ends up in a fugue state and spends more than an hour and two hundred dollars. He avoids it as long as possible, every time. And this time? This time, he’s forgotten his headphones. 

A fate worse than death. 

Like Sisyphus, bound to walk the aisles for eternity, Kravitz weaves from one shelf to the next, remembering oh, he needs eggs, and fuck, he should have gotten those eggs half the store ago and he now has to double back, and double fuck, he should have gotten carrots when he was right next to them--they’re literally the second thing on his list, how did he not see the carrots and think, ah yes, carrots, is his brain full of marbles and sour pudding? Signs point to yes. 

But it turns out to be the right thing to do, because in repeating his hideous mercantile journey, he notices the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, humming one of Kravitz’s favorite songs and opening the egg cartons and gently inspecting the eggs. 

His mouth goes dry and he forgets how to do talk good. 

“I’ve always wondered why people do that,” he says, casually, like he’s doing so well for himself, with his basket full of chips and frozen box dinners. He has three kinds of chips in there, and he didn’t even grab the stupid carrots. He can feel himself start to sweat from the perceived judgement of this stranger, who turns to him and blinks the most stunning eyes and laughs, like Kravitz has told a joke. 

“You telling me you like buying cracked eggs, my man?”

“Oh, I suppose--that makes sense, I’ve always just trusted-”

“Never trust a place like this.” The man gestures to the last box he opened, where one of the eggs is sporting a solid crack. “They practically throw ‘em onto the shelves. Believe me, I’ve worked in one of these hell holes.” 

“I’ll take your word for it, then.” Kravitz is smiling and he can’t stop smiling, even though internally he’s panicking for a way to extend the conversation without making it awkward. “I don’t cook a whole lot, so I’ve probably thrown away a lot of pre-cracked eggs.” 

“That’s a shame, with hands like those.” He winks, and finally selects his carton, and turns to walk away, and then he swears. 

“Something wrong?” Kravitz frowns, turning to see. There’s a short, very upset man storming in their direction, and Kravitz’s temporary grocery store friend has gone incredibly pale incredibly quickly. 

“Oh, just my ex,” he says, feigning some of the same absolute bullshit casual confidence Kravitz was trying to channel earlier. 

“Fancy seeing you here!” Kravitz hates this man’s voice. He hates the way he is looking at his handsome new friend. He hates the way he walked up here. He almost wants to stand in front of his new friend and take the blows for him. 

“Hey, Sazed...”

“I haven’t heard from you in a while. How have you been?” 

“Me? Uh, me? I’ve been- great, yeah, great, got a new boyfriend and everything, so don’t bother reapplying-”

“Is this him?” Sazed turns his haughty gaze on Kravitz, and Kravitz eyes his friend, who looks like he’d rather die on the spot than continue this conversation, and Kravitz makes a Choice. 

“Sure is,” he says, smiling and raising himself up a bit so he can stare down at Sazed. “Pleased to meet you. I can’t say I’ve heard much about you.”

“Is that so.” Sazed squints. “I don’t think I believe you.”

“Cool thing to say to a stranger, but alright.”

“What’s his name.”

Icy panic freezes all of Kravitz’s good senses. He looks at his friend, who looks like he’s praying for aliens to pick him up right now immediately, and he laughs. “Oh, I know this one. Definitely. It’s gotta be, hm, on the tip of my tongue, gotta be...Barbara.” 

“Oh babe, you kidder,” his friend teases, hand white knuckling his little red grocery basket. Sazed rolls his eyes. 

“Jesus, you sure know how to pick ‘em, Taako.” 

“I think his taste gets better and better,” Kravitz declares, and he leans over and kisses Taako, just a fond, chaste, casual kiss on the lips of a complete stranger who might sue and or mace him at any moment. He hopes--Taako? He hopes Taako isn’t regretting this as desperately as he appears to be attempting to melt into the floor and never be seen again. 

“Awww, you’re so sweet,” Taako flirts, and he straightens Kravitz’s collar affectionately. Kravitz beams despite himself. Sazed grumbles. 

“You two idiots are perfect for each other. Have a nice life.” He turns and stomps away. 

“Oh, we will!” Kravitz calls happily after him. 

They wait a beat, still way too close for strangers, and then they look at each other and collapse into panicked giggles. Taako presses his forehead against Kravitz shoulder and sighs, before realizing they don’t actually know each other and scrambling back. Kravitz wishes he had stayed.

“I’m sorry I kissed you, I just thought-”

“I’m so fucking sorry we had to do that-” Taako looks like the one worried he’s going to get maced, but Kravitz couldn’t hold anything against those eyes. 

“I’m not,” Kravitz gambles. “Are you busy Saturday?”

Taako smiles, relief threatening to knock him over and make him evaluate first-hand how often the grocery store sweeps. 

“You know what? I’m not. How about I make you breakfast with some of those eggs? It’s the least I could do. Oh, and one more thing. What’s your name?” 

#taakitz #taz #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #they're ridiculous and i love them #thank you!!

[ambienchronicles]

Over the weekend, watching as the Taliban retook city after city, has filled me with a myriad of emotions I don’t think I can accurately describe.

Rage.

Sadness.

Anger.

Helplessness.

Futility.

After 9/11, American children were indoctrinated into believing in the American military war machine. Those of us who came of age post-9/11 thought that when we sold our souls to Uncle Sam, we would have an opportunity to do good, not only within our own communities, but on the world stage as well.

I, myself, enlisted when I was eighteen. I was sent to Kandahar in 2010, and I saw firsthand the plight of the Afghan people in that city. The children would run up to our convoys, hands held out for food we could not give them, for water we could not give them. The wrappers to the candy we had in our pockets could be used to create IEDs, the water bottles could house said IEDs.

The rational side of your brain thinks, “these are fucking children! They just want some candy! What the fuck?”

But we had been trained, from the word ‘go,’ that this is a country that had been at war for far longer than half the battalion had been alive. And these people wanted us gone. If that meant they would Macguyver an IED out of the random shit in your pockets, they would do it. They had the capability to do it.

We were told that we were wanted there, that we were improving the lives of people who had been oppressed by the Taliban for years. And, in some cases, that were true. But the staggering amount of white flags with words written in a language I could neither speak nor read told me so much more.

The Taliban hadn’t been beaten. They had just gone underground. They had centuries of invading forces coming in and trying to impose their way of living on the people of Afghanistan, only to pull out when everything got to be too much, as their example.

The British tried in the 1800s. The Afghan people outlasted them.

The Russians tried between 1977-1988. The Afghan people outlasted them.

We came in, screaming “America, Fuck Yeah” at the top of our lungs in 2001, intending on Freedom and Democracy-ing the Afghan people. The Afghan people outlasted us; the Taliban outlasted us.

We have essentially shot ourselves in the foot by leaving all what we did behind, like Afghanistan was just some big dumpster. Vehicles, tools, weapons. The Russians left behind approximately 30 MILLION land mines.

Every time I see that another city was taken, the government has fallen, or that the Taliban has taken Afghanistan, I have to ask myself, “why the fuck were we there?” All of the ‘good’ we supposedly did has gone the way of the dodo. Twenty years of change were undone in the span of a few weeks.

I try to keep politics out of my social media posts, as I had very much (and still) disliked Donald Trump. But I am very disappointed in Joe Biden this morning, for believing that the Taliban wouldn’t immediately be back on their bullshit the minute they reclaimed power. One must always assume that, when making a deal with the Taliban as a Westerner, it is always Opposite Day.

Seeing these people fleeing their country, the country we were supposed to have helped, kills me on the inside, and I wish there was something I could do. The Afghan people I met during my time in country were the kindest people I had ever met.

“But what about other first world nations? Why can’t they send in the cavalry?”

That’s because they did. ISAF was a joint coalition force, and some of the finest people I had ever had the pleasure of serving with. But ISAF disbanded when they thought the job was done, leaving us to hold the bag (not that I blame them—we got ourselves into this mess, we gotta get ourselves out of it).

Wars are expensive, and the money set aside in our government’s budget doesn’t go to paying our proud folks in blue (or green, or tan), or even to funding decent equipment so we don’t get dead (half of my 782 gear smelled like it had been manufactured long before my dad met my mom at a bar outside Homestead AFB). I don’t know where it goes, but it doesn’t go to helping the people we have forcibly Freedom and Democracied, nor does it go into helping our vets deal with the trauma we’ve dealt with in fighting another man’s war.

Revisiting trauma when you thought you were okay honestly feels like you’re Sisyphus, climbing that mountain every day, pushing that big ass boulder up, up, up to the tippy-top, only to have the ground give way beneath you and your boulder comes tumbling down to rest at the base of the mountain.

My proudest accomplishment in life has been a lie, and that pride was nothing more than a puff of smoke that was blown away in the slightest breeze. The humanitarian work I did while a Seabee has gone to benefit the enemy—100%.

All that’s left is a bitter, angry husk of a woman whose heart aches with fear for the women and children of Afghanistan who had hope within their grasp, and had it snatched it away.

What was it all for?

#afghanistan #veteran #personal perspective #what the fuck #futility #freedom ain’t free #what was it all for #and now I’m afraid of fucking bubble wrap #fucking hell guys

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 36

84,000 words later....

I can’t thank everyone enough who sent in asks, commented, liked, and reblogged Mystics as it was being created. It meant the world to me and gave me so much inspiration to continue! Special thanks to Myst, of course. Continue to send in asks for the OCs as much as you want. A part 2 is in the works.

Enjoy Mystics’ final chapter. I hope its been as much fun to read as it was for me to write! <3

Xx -Alpaca

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror & @livingforthewhump

CW: captivity, blood mention, drug mention, cheesy dancing at the end.

------------------------------

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: THREE LITTLE BIRDS

Remember: Matter. How tiny your share of it. Time. How brief and fleeting your allotment of it. Fate. How small a role you play in it.

                              - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations.

         Shining white, pristine walls lined the hall. It didn’t take long for Hekate to catch up. Paimon didn’t know why he expected anything less. Now his arms were held behind his back by a cosmic force, unknown even to him, and the inorganic urge to continue walking by her side pushed him forward. He spoke little, and listened even less to what the old hag was saying.

         “I cannot promise you will be happy here, but at least you will not be alone in your imprisonment,” Hekate said.

         They turned around a corner through the maze of halls and landed upon a wide set of sliding doors. The whole realm was practically space-age. Hekate was clever to disguise the entryway to her realm as his own Labyrinth.

         He should never have jumped through. That was a rookie mistake. The moment Apollo was released, he should have known something was amiss. Lyrem certainly didn’t have the talents to perform such a feat.

         “This is best for you, Pan,” Hekate continued. “I know that with a little more helpful guidance, you can return to your true nature, and your true glory.”

         “Paimon.”

         Hekate paused. “No, no, no, my dear. You are Pan. You always have been Pan. You will always be Pan.”

         The sliding doors opened. Inside this room there was yet another hallway, but instead of previous areas, this one was lined with clear walls. Perfect for seeing through into the cells that would hold a chosen prisoner.

         Many of them were empty. Hekate continued toward the end, until Paimon reached the last of the cells. There was a simple bed and some books on a nightstand that had been left untouched. The room was covered in a white rubber. The bed, made of wood.

         “I am not going in there,” Paimon said, his brows furrowed.

         Hekate agreed with a nod of her head.

         “You are correct. You are going into this one.”

         The cell door across from the one that had taken Paimon’s attention opened with a whirring noise. Unable to stop himself, Paimon stepped through the threshold. The door whirred shut behind him and he was released, finally, from whatever command Hekate had over him.

         “This is an abuse of power!”

         “An abuse of power is what you had for many, many years on Earth my darling dear. And quite frankly, I have had enough of your games,” Hekate observed calmly. “You will have much in common with your cellmate. Let me put it simply, Pan. The sooner you behave, the sooner you will be released.”

         Pan- no! Paimon looked around his new home as new objects formed around him out of nothingness. A simple bed, nightstand, all as white as snow on Christmas day and one thing in the corner that stood out among everything else because of its red mahogany sheen- a Pan flute.

         “If you wish to have anything more, then you will need to earn it,” Hekate stated.

         Darkly, Paimon turned around, meeting his great aunt’s eyes.

         “I will destroy you for this. I will ruin you. I will make sure no one ever knows of you. I will turn you into a forgotten relic! Just as you deserve to be!”

         Hekate raised a brow to show how meaningless Paimon’s threats truly were to her.

         “I would think it something to be admired, if you could do any one of those things, darling dear. Certainly, if even your own father could not do those things, then it would be worth true congratulation.”

         Paimon charged the clear wall and then stole a glance to the cell across from him, where someone had returned from using a restroom. The mysterious person sat on the edge of his bed. Someone vaguely familiar, with light eyes and a trimmed white beard, looking drastically different than he remembered. Paimon blinked.

         “Dad?”

 ---------------------------------

         “Have you ever heard the tale of Sisyphus?”

    ��    “It may shock you to learn I haven’t ever quite finished the Iliad, but yes, I have.” Lyrem replied to Hades’ question. “So, you’ll have repeat a meaningless, trivial task for all eternity in my afterlife as a punishment for imprisoning you as per Pan’s command. How very original. Did you think of that all on your own, or did you need your brother’s help?”

         “My brother Zeus has not been heard from for a millennia. While he had given me some inspiration, I thought it better to put my own ironic flair into your suffering.”

         Persephone interrupted with a short squeak.

         “No, uncle, please don’t be so ruthless. He’s lost so much already!”

         Artemis had switched back into her cat-like form, comforting her brother Apollo in his lap and purring. She had let out a protest of her own in Lyrem’s favour as well.

         Apollo translated. “Arty agrees. We should be kind to him. Truly uncle, I have to imagine that Pan had quite the psychological hold on this man. Perhaps it would be wise to show him a tad bit of mercy?”

         Hades looked to the naïve children and back to the human-mortal-man with growing disinterest. Then a light crossed his face, as though an idea dawned on him. He allowed himself to smile, ever so gently.

         “Well, I can see that you have created quite the positive rapport with my nieces and nephew already. I don’t know why I am so surprised.”

         Lyrem shot a quick wink to Persephone as a thank you.

         “Which is why, I shall grant you eternal life.” Hades continued.

         Lyrem looked back to him, and stammered.

         “What- what did… Did you just say what I think you said?"

         Hades nodded. Everyone looked joyful. Excited even. Lyrem could last forever- very nearly be one of them. Yes, everyone thought this to be a grand idea, except for obviously, Lyrem.

         “When you die, I will refuse to take your soul. Every time without fail. You will forever grow old, then older… then older. And you will never die.”

         “No.”

         “Welcome to a lifetime of arthritis and aching legs and never-ending cataract surgery,” Hades said. “Oh, yes, that is right, Thomas. I know how old you are, and how much older you will get before your cells no longer hold you together. Consider this a gift.”

         “No, please, God Hades. I need to find Ros-”

         “Goodbye ‘Lyrem’. Have yourself a wonderful life.”

         He was gone. All the mortals had left the Underworld, finally. Now, Hades could return to restoring his realm to its proper state.

         Persephone perked up, realizing she was free to create and grow everything back to the way it was in the Underworld.

         “My pond!” She cried, running out the dining room doors towards the Depths of Despair. “I swear, if Pan killed my koi, I am going to be furious!”

-----------------------------

         “Why the hell are there empty bins in the hall?! Where are all my photos?! What on earth happened to my stereo?!”

         Arch groaned, sitting up from the floor of the living room. Their mother was already back to her old self, standing and shouting and asking questions that no one would care to answer for her.

         “I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Arthur answered. He stood to his feet and limped slowly down the hall. “I’m pouring myself a bath.”

         Charlotte rushed past her brother and her child, throwing herself through the house in a frenzy. Arch stood with their back against the wall, arms crossed. It wasn’t anything defiant. They just wanted to be held.

         “Where are all my clothes?!”

         DING DONG

         “Arch, I swear to God, you will tell me what happened while I was away, and where all my f-” ding dong “stuff is!”

         Arch removed their bloody apron from their body, moved a short few steps to the kitchen sink and rinsed their hands that were still stained red.

         DING DING DING DING DING DONG!

         Arch rubbed their temple with their hands and out of instinct, walked to the front door.

         It was Benji. Through the screen door, Arch saw him standing on the sidewalk in front of their house. He had just pressed play on his Bluetooth speaker sitting in the grass. It started playing a bizarre melody.

         “Hey! You answered! I was hoping you would! You have no idea how many texts I’ve sent!”

         Arch stepped out onto the top of the stairs, still puzzled to know what was happening. The summer heat still lingered in the air.

         “Look, I don’t know what I did to deserve the cold-shoulder, but I thought you deserved a visit at least on your birthday, okay? So, sue me.”

         “My birthday?” Arch said. “It’s… It’s August? Thirteenth?”

‘Me, my, oh, what a life So lean on my people, gon' be stepping in time’

         “Yeah, dude! Did you seriously forget?!” Benji exclaimed, bobbing his head from side to side.

‘So, thank you!

For coming to my birthday party!

I am one minute old today

And everything is going great-’

Arch sputtered a reflexive, well-needed laugh. Benji had started dancing like an absolute fool on their front lawn. He pulled out a birthday candle from the recesses of his pocket and held it forward.

“Look, I’ve been wanting you to show me that magic trick again, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Arch placed their hands in their pockets, trying to work past their tears of both exhaustion and entertainment. They shook their head. They really didn’t want to know if they could still perform that trick.

“I… forgot how.”

Benji stared back up, crestfallen. He checked his phone and lowered the volume on his music player.

“Fine, okay. Whatever. You don’t want me around. That’s cool. I get it. I’m a big shot. Not really your type to hang with-”

“What?”

Benji swallowed back his pain, and shrugged.

“It’s cool Arch. School’s over and we gotta go our separate ways. I understand.”

He started backing away. Arch leapt forward, and caught him by the elbow before he turned away completely.

“I want you to stay!” Arch admitted. “It’s totally cool if you want to hang out. Please stay... I… Honestly, I have been so lonely...”

How did the air get so thick?

“And I have missed you… so much.”

Benji’s sad, soulful eyes skeptically narrowed, and then widened with a realization.

“Dude… Have you been struggling? This whole time…? All summer? You gotta come to me with your shit! Don’t bottle it up, bud.” Benji wrapped them in a tight hug and rocked them to and fro. “Oh, I had no idea... You’re my main enby, Arch… I’ll be your Rick Astley forever… The Bernie to your Elton… Okay? Always. No doubt. No doubt.”

Arch took a moment to sob grossly into his shoulder. They pulled away before it got too squishy for their liking. If allowed, they knew Benji would let them cry on him until the end of time.

Arch took a deep breath of relief.

“Sorry, I’ve just been really stressed.”

“Yeah, hey. No kidding.” Benji said. “Look, here’s the plan, Shazia said that if I could reach you today that she’d meet us at the park with some of that fancy hash we like so that we can smoke up cakes.”

Arch scrunched their face.

“Cupcakes. Shazia would meet us in the park with cupcakes. Hey, Charlotte,” Benji cleared his throat, seeing the dark haired woman, who seemed to be hanging by a very fine thread from behind the screen door. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Benji. Arch, just go.”

“Wait. Really?” Arch turned around, wondering how she could be serious.

“You’re eighteen now, aren’t you?” Charlotte asked. 

Arch nodded.

“Then get out.”

There wasn’t anything warm about the way Charlotte said those words. Instead of lingering too long on the nuance, Arch only nodded, watching the door to the house shut its inhabitants in.

Benji bent over to pick up his speaker. He didn’t miss a beat cutting the music.

“What was that all about?” He asked. Like Arch, he looked up at the closed door.

Arch wiped the wetness away from their face with a couple fingers.

“I… I think I was just kicked out.”

Arch cleared their throat. They turned back to Benji as the summer sun beat down on them both. 

Oh Benji. He was the most welcome sight in this world. The only good thing left that Arch had yet to ruin. Shazia would soon await them both in the park. Their life with Paimon, Lyrem, and hell, was now in the past. A future containing Arthur and Charlotte filled with shame and regret awaited them.

That didn’t matter yet. All that mattered was what was right in front of them.

And Arch really, really, really wanted to get high.

“Anyways, you said something about smoking up?”

#unsung hero: benji #drug mention #whump #urbanfantasy #fantasy #fiction #writeblr #finalchapter #mystics by alpaca #whumpblr #writing #creativewriting #completed projects #Lyrem oc #Paimon oc #Arch oc #dark comedy #tw blood mention #twdrug mention #nonbinary main character #nonbinary #greek mythology character #psychological whump #emotional whump #memory whump #AJR reference

[incandescent-eden]

[The Lyre Effect] Conversation II - Icarus and Hyacinthus

A scene because I like these side characters far too much.

Word Count: 1547

---

“Elysium isn’t too much farther off,” Hyacinthus said offhandedly.

“I thought you didn’t count things like that,” said Icarus, his back to the window. “I thought you said it was hopeless to think toward Elysium, people like us.”

“Maybe I needed something to dream about. I’m tired of waking up from the same nightmare every day.”

The ka-thunk, ka-thunk, ka-thunk of the train cars continued onward, the only indication they were moving at all. Circling around Elysium again and again, and never getting closer.

Icarus dug his fingernails into his thighs. Sisyphus and Tantalus had done horrible things – to be kept awake forever by their hunger, by their hopes, that was a fair punishment – but what had Icarus done beside wanting to live in the sunlight? Beyond loving someone far above him?

Hyacinthus was pallid now, but Icarus could see it as clearly as if he had known Hyacinthus in life: the youth with a confident glow, brown eyes that dared to look upon the sun and sparkle. Icarus looked to his own skin, untouched by the sun except by the drawings of suns of his own design.

“Don’t,” said Hyacinthus.

           Icarus looked up, slowly unfurling his hands. He was surprised to find them shaking. “I didn’t say anything.”

           “Don’t think too hard about it, Icarus,” Hyacinthus looked at Icarus with dull eyes, eyes that once were a warm dark brown, but now were flat and cold as the dirt of a horse’s grave. “I thought I understood gods, too, you know? But I guess none of us really do.”

The bitterness was barely detectable in his words, like sea monsters lurking beneath the calm ocean waters, a shadow barely cast as they moved. Icarus had to tread carefully - Hyacinthus lashed out as easily as the serpents that snapped their jaws at the silver fish that flashed in the sun.

“Do you think we’ll be able to do it? Get to Elysium one day?”

Hyacinthus stared through Icarus with dead eyes, toward Elysium. “I don’t know.” He kicked out, shuffling his feet along the floor. Perhaps he was retracing steps in his memory, wondering, as Icarus did, how he ended up in this situation, what he did to deserve an eternity of longing with no reward.

The air in their train car was calm as the train rumbled forward, and Icarus thought of the days in Crete when storms rolled in and the sun was far away, how the thunder shook the palaces of Minos and Icarus in them. There was a strange comfort that accompanied such storms, that as long as he was inside and away from the sea, the thunder was a friend.

He didn’t know the will of the gods, but there were times when Zeus’s thunder sounded more like laughing than yelling.

It never rained in Asphodel. Or maybe it did, and Icarus, for all his staring out of windows, could not see because the rainwater fell slick and gray, and it blended in with the monotony of everything else in Asphodel.

Looking out of windows, waiting for the sun, was a habit that was harder to break in death than in life.

Hyacinthus no longer looked in Icarus’s direction. His attention was focused on the door of their compartment.

“They won’t come back for a while, you know,” Icarus said. “I almost feel bad for Achilles and Pelides. Eurydice looked like she was going to kill them herself.”

“I don’t need your pity,” Hyacinthus snapped. There it was, the break in the calm, the fall through the air.

But the fall never came. Hyacinthus’s bite was rendered useless by the furrow of his brow, the way he avoided Icarus’s eyes.

“I never said anything about pitying you,” Icarus said.

“Good,” Hyacinthus said, with a haughty voice but deflated expression.

And around the train went again.

“I don’t think anyone could pity you, Hyacinthus.”

“Good,” Hyacinthus said again. His voice was farther away than Elysium itself. Typical Hyacinthus. Typical, self-absorbed Hyacinthus.

“You had the best life out of all of us.”

Hyacinthus scoffed. “Ariadne was a princess. Hard to beat that.”

“Ariadne had a mortal lover who left her to rot on an island hated by her family.”

“Did you hate her?”

“I wasn’t her family.”

“Do you hate me?” Hyacinthus shot the question before Icarus had finished the sentence.

The train crashed against the tracks violently, like cold waves that crashed against ankles and brought a person down. Clank, clank, clank, the sound drowned the cars.

Hate was a strong word. Icarus told Hyacinthus so.

“But you dislike me,” Hyacinthus pushed, his pink lips curving into a bow. Like a bow, that smile was sleek and dangerous, a smile that could easily draw blood wielded by a master hunter.

“I don’t like you,” Icarus said slowly. “We’ve been over this. Many times, in fact.”

“Why do you hate me so much, Icarus?” The arrow flew. The bow snapped. Hyacinthus’s smile dropped back into a blank expression, like he didn’t have the energy to hold it back any longer.

“I don’t hate you,” Icarus said. “I just don’t like you. You’ve had everything, you had two gods who were in love with you, and you laud that over the rest of us.”

The anger rose in him when Hyacinthus didn’t react. Icarus kept talking, the words flying out one after another in a quivering voice. Hyacinthus was not the only one whose words could pierce flesh. “Eurydice tolerates you, Achilles couldn’t care less, and Hylas and Ariadne are too nice and won’t say anything, but I’ve known too many men who think they’re better just because they were blessed by gods, and not a single one of them has been any more than a man himself.”

“I know that.”

Icarus stopped short, shocked out of his tirade by Hyacinthus’s mournful whisper. He had expected a biting remark, a smirk, condescension.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know that, right?” Hyacinthus said, louder this time. “I wouldn’t be stuck on this train, going around forever, forced to remember everything I had and knowing I’ll never see it again if I didn’t know that.”

“Sometimes, I wonder what I did to deserve this. I know I should be grateful it’s Asphodel and not the Fields of Punishment, but… I don’t know. It feels like torture. I guess I got cocky,” he laughed slightly, running a hand through his hair. “I guess I thought if I could play two gods off of each other, I might end up better off either way. But who knows how gods work?”

“That was your mistake,” Icarus said stiffly.

“Do you hate me?”

The non-sequitur puzzled Icarus; annoyed him, even. “I already said I don’t hate you.”

“Then you’re a better man than I am. Or maybe a bigger fool,” Hyacinthus admitted. Then, perhaps regretting his confession, “But if you tell any of the others I said that, I will kill you again myself.”

“They wouldn’t believe me,” Icarus said, stretching his neck to the side. That was the thing about Asphodel. It was comfortable enough, but never quite enough that he forgot he was in Asphodel. Not torture, but the mild unpleasantness of the mundane.

“Besides, it was a silly thing to do, play two gods off of each other. You know how the gods feel about hubris.”

“Your lack of self-awareness is astounding,” Hyacinthus spat. He looked down at his feet, rubbing his temple. “Would it help if I said I really did love both of them?”

“No,” Icarus replied, because it wouldn’t. “But you’re here now, so no use dwelling over it.”

No reply from Hyacinthus.

“Stop rubbing at your scar,” Icarus rebuked him. “You’ll end up opening a fresh wound.”

“It’s not like it matters,” Hyacinthus said, pressing harder, no doubt to spite Icarus.

“It does! It’ll be bloody and you’ll get infected and it will look horrible, and I’m already stuck here with your face all day, I don’t want to look at an infected wound!”

“So you stare at my face all day?” Hyacinthus dropped his hand in his lap, his smile returning.

“No.” Icarus crossed his arms. He stared at Hyacinthus head on, ironically, at his face. If he looked away now, he would only be losing the challenge Hyacinthus posed.

“I’m very beautiful, you know,” Hyacinthus goaded.

Icarus rolled his eyes. “Maybe for the rear end of a centaur.”

Hyacinthus mockingly blew him a kiss. “You’d be lucky if the rear end of a centaur showed you this much affection.”

Icarus only scowled.

Leaning back in his seat, Hyacinthus relaxed. He broke their gaze first. “Icarus,” he said, directing his words to the door, where their friends still had not returned. “Thank you for not hating me. But -”

“I won’t tell,” Icarus promised.

Hyacinthus nodded, head still turned toward the door.

Icarus cleared his throat. “Thank you, too.”

Hyacinthus’s profile made a puzzled expression.

“Just. Thank you,” Icarus said. Hyacinthus didn’t need to know the reason. “I think we’re going to reach Elysium soon.”

Icarus turned back to his own window, watching the island flash past, as far away as it had always been, and surely always would be.

From behind him, he heard, “Yeah. I think we will.”

#writing #fictional writing #greek myth retelling #I have a very specific aesthetic called Greek myths but put them on steampunk trains #you know the one #hycarus was a mistake #reevie writes #original story #the lyre effect #there is never chronology or canon in tle honestly lol #perhaps one day! but not today :))

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

So I adore your character Frank. I mean Adore him with a capital A. I started reading your fics when I was like 13 or something and now I am 21 years old.

I re-read your fics for nostalgia's sake a few days ago and. . . I have to tell you that I think Frank was and is one of the most influential characters in my life.

I know he isn't a huge character, but Frank just set up my type of favorite character going forwards in life. Due to this fic, I have always gravitated to 'whipped' characters, to character whom really should be terror in and of themselves but have been rendered harmless towards or for a singlar person.

I might have any ways, but I KNOW Frank at least cemented this in me. He just. . . Has intrinsically interwoven himself into my psychic.

I have named my ocs after him, basied characters off of him, compared all my favorite characters to him. Hell. My girlfriend wanted to talk about baby names, and I suggested Frank in at least partially love for this character (It is also a family name, But your fic sweetened it additionally)

I mean this, completely truthfuly, that your oc Frank has been my favorite fictional character for many years. I hunger for Frank content like a starving man hungers for a bit of roast beef.

I love your other characters too.

Lilly? Superb.

Rabbit? Fancy.

Lenin and the many Toms? Thats what I'm talking about.

But Frank? Frank to me is special.

So. . . I was wondering if you could tell us a little more about Frank? In anyway I mean. Or perhaps not at all. Whatever you think is most appropriate.

Frank?

You’re not alone, I’ve gotten a lot of people who really like Frank and definitely wish he wasn’t such a minor character. That said, if Rabbit wasn’t my answer to South Park’s Towley then I feel like Frank would be. He’s great and all but he’s just... well, he’s not a main character.

But I have to say I’m very flattered by, well, all of this. First that you’ve stuck around for seven years (Jesus I’ve been here too long), that you reread my stuff, and that Frank has had such an influence in your life.

And with a plea like that I really can’t say no, can I?

So, first off, I’ve mentioned this off and on but I am writing an original fiction version of “Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus” and yes I know I’ve been saying it for years but I really am almost done with what will be the first novel at this point. With that, Frank is a much larger character in that story than the original fic, still secondary but an important secondary character. So, it’s a little weird for me to go back and talk about the fic version. But given I’d have to get into the whole world building of that we’re just going to go ahead and ignore that. Just dropping this that, if all goes well, we do get more Frank than usual.

As for Frank himself from the fic... Well, the thing is we don’t really know too much about HP vampires except that they’re kind of a joke and taken less seriously than even werewolves. I don’t think they have any magic in and of themselves (maybe weird vampire magic that doesn’t really stand up to a wizard with a wand) and are probably about the strength of Buffy vampires. They kind of got the short end of the stick. I imagine they’re all desperately poor, living off blood pops, and just passed out in Knockturn Alley or running around eating pedestrians in Albania. And this is pretty much Frank’s existence before Lily says, “I want to be a drug dealer! Help me vampire man!”

For Frank himself, a lot of what I’ve wanted to say about him can be found in the various side fics. “Lily and the Narcotics Emporium” from way back in the day has pretty much all my world building on him.

He’s not all that old really, I think I dated him around the 1800′s, and is desperately poor. He’s basically a starving, drugged out, mess in the 1940′s when Lily finds him in the literal gutter. As a result, Lily Riddle is the light of his life, she pulls him out of the pit of depression and poverty and gives him not only purpose but hope for his people’s future. He poisons and kills wizards all day, it’s great! This is how he kind of ends up in his yes-man/whipped position. I mean, Lily is also terrifying so that certainly helps, but it’s mostly fueled by this weird devotion/unending gratitude that Lily doesn’t know what to do with.

Further, Riddle Inc. is really Frank’s show. Lily has some ideas but it’s mostly him that does all the work and certainly keeps it going for DECADES in her absence. Which really makes it clear that he could have done all this by himself, pretty much any time he wanted, but he’ll never actually figure that out because Lily Riddle is great and would she like coffee today. So, Frank really should be the head of it himself, but he insists to everyone without directly saying it that he’s just the secretary. And everyone believes because, my god, does he act like it.

And I think my favorite part of Lily and Frank interacting is that Lily also has no idea what to do with all of this or why they’re even like this. Lily has no idea how important she is to Frank and just how much she changed his life. She’s starting to get an idea that drugs are bad and maybe she was a terrible influence on the wizarding world for half a century, but she really doesn’t understand just why Frank is her secretary. So every now and then he drops some “we are eternally grateful” type line and she sort of just stares because from her perspective he’s just always been around and of course she found him in the gutter. Where else would one pick up a Frank? That was very convenient.

That’s about all I’ve got off the top of my head. Anything anyone want to ask specifically about Frank? 

#ask #lily and the art of being sisyphus #riddle incorporated #frank

[oopsabird]

Do you know of any masterposts of things to do to cheer up. I got triggered by something earlier today and I'm struggling and I'm not in a place where "validating words" help

Hi anon. I’m sorry to hear you’re not having a great day. I don’t tend to usually operate as an advice blog (and am not planning to start), but I do also LOVE giving advice, and while I don’t have a masterpost, I think I have some tips that may help you out.

My go-to process when I need to make my brain switch emotional tracks from a state of distress is usually a combination of one or more of these three strategies:

1) I do a Five Things Countdown or other mental centering exercise.

You can find the instructions right here. Sometimes I replace the “one thing you can taste” observation with an affirmation that is counter to my feelings of distress, such as making myself list “one thing that made me smile this week” or “one thing I like about myself” or “one thing I am proud of about myself”.

Take your time, give each observation a few seconds to really sink in, and practice deep, measured breathing while you do so.

Going into a little mental descriptive detail about the objects you observe can also help it feel more concrete (ex: “I see a vase, it is blue with green spirals on it, and holds eight pink flowers and five white ones”), and really slow the world down and ground you to it.

2) I journal out my thoughts or how I am feeling.

I have an actual journal notebook for this, but you can also use the Notes app on your phone, a word doc, a random piece of paper, whatever. The most important thing is to not censor yourself and to simply unload this train of thought you can’t stop having into an external space, which helps process it.

Don’t let shame govern what you write during this exercise — nobody ever has to read these thoughts but you.

If you want, you can then symbolically dispose of the thoughts by ripping up the page, deleting the note, etc, if it makes you feel better. Can be very cathartic!

3) Finally, I put on some kind of audio or visual media which makes me laugh or smile.

This is the “cheer me up” stage. Sometimes I will just skip right to this step if I need an IMMEDIATE mood intervention. The audio/visual nature of this is important for me personally because I find it helps to choose something that is going to play itself out without needing any effort or active engagement on my part — I can just sit there and it happens.

My personal go-to’s for this purpose are upbeat music, standup comedy (especially old favourites that reliably make me laugh every time, like John Mulaney’s special The Comeback Kid, or his Salt & Pepper Diner bit), or my favourite top-tier side-splitting Vine compilations. You will know best what is funny to you personally, however I personally ALWAYS at least chuckle a little at this nonsense (cw: shouting).

The intent with this step is that now that you have centered yourself and processed your thoughts, you want to distract and kick-start your brain into moving on to a different emotional state. In my experience, laughter in particular is GREAT for that, because it creates all kinds of endorphins and it’s hard to think of anything else when laughing your ass off. If you decide to go with upbeat music, consider giving in to the urge to dance should it arise!

If you feel up to it, do some colouring, doodling, or some other kind of physical task while this is happening, to better engage your hands/body and the rest of your brain (cooking food and cleaning stuff is good for this, as are stim toys or physical exercise). Do this “audio-visual stimulation” step for as long as it takes to shift your mood or occupy your time until sleep.

Bonus item: having music on throughout the first two steps can really help to fill the space between your thoughts with something ongoing that has a set emotional tone. That tone can be whatever you feel like you need during this time (stuff that makes you sad, stuff that makes you happy, whatever!).

Anyway, I hope this helps, Anon! 💜

This is just my personal set of what I’ve found to be the most effective quick-intervention strategies. Followers, what do you use to shift yourself out of a crummy emotional state?

PS: When it comes to longer-term responses to Bad Days that are good to have in your back pocket, I’d like to talk a bit about my Baseline Recovery checklist that I made. However, that will make a long post even longer, so I will put that part under the cut for those who are interested.

This is a checklist that I made, which I activate on days when I realize that whatever plans I had for the day have been thrown off-track by one kind of depressive spiral or another. You know, the days where you just feel like a lethargic grimy slug, and realize you haven’t moved or looked up from your phone in six hours, and everything is Garbage but it feels like you can’t get out of that cycle bc you haven’t done any self-care all day? I call that fugue state “Slug Mode”. ADHD brain tricks me into it all the time, especially during the pandemic! Often enough that I decided to make an escape plan for it.

The Baseline Recovery list is designed to step-by-step build me back up to a semi-functional state, by starting with small, simple tasks which are also the most essential for my wellbeing, and then building towards more complex objectives. The goal is to “recover to a healthy baseline state”, hence the title.

Each step puts me in a better space to accomplish the step after it — for example, having water to drink allows me to take my meds, and eating literally anything will give me the energy to get up and do some basic personal hygiene. They build on top of each other like a pyramid.

Even if I only complete two or three steps before going back into Slug Mode, I will still be better off physically and mentally than when I hadn’t done any of the steps at all. That’s why I broke “hygiene” and “food” down into two levels — the first level of each one is very basic “survival mode” stuff, and is based on prioritizing fuel for my body and basic physical comfort/cleanliness, while the second levels are more energy-intensive and “optional”, but have long-term benefits. Even if I don’t manage to shower, brushing my teeth and taking a piss and wiping my face with a baby wipe are still important wins. And even if I don’t consume a single vegetable in this whole process, eating the Pringles from my bedside drawer will still give me more calories to fuel me than I had in my body before.

I also allow myself to skip Sleep, Healthy Food and Level 2 hygiene and go right to Make A Task List if this is the kind of day where time demands we speedrun things, or if I know that I am only going to have the energy for very very basic self-care today and will overwhelm myself by trying something harder. And that’s fine! The point of the list is to ease myself gradually back into the steps of existing. I give myself grace and I am patient with myself.

It doesn’t have to look like this, but I would recommend taking some time when you are in a “good” mental state and writing out a plan you can put into action when you need to bounce back from a bad day. Your list might include steps for mindfulness or emotion management, or anything else you find is any important part of getting your groove back. I have mine laminated and keep it on my bedside table, so that it’s within arm’s reach when I need it. Perhaps a pocket index card, or a note on your phone, might be a more useful format to you!

Trying to plan your way out of a bad mental state when you’re in the middle of it can feel like you’re Sisyphus pushing his boulder up the hill, only to have it roll back down on him. Having a plan ahead of time that you can put into action on autopilot with minimal effort is a lifesaver, would definitely recommend!

Again, I hope this was helpful to you, and I hope your day improves, or that tomorrow is better for you. 💜

#long post #asks #anon #self-care #mental health #depression #adhd adventures #most of these are strategies I learned from therapists or constructed myself using what I learned from the therapists #anyway i hope this very long post helps you out a bit!! and anyone else who needs it

[asimawv]

I write and conceptualize story to music, so I’ve compiled a playlist of 30 Darkest Dungeon-specific songs that I listen to when writing (and subsequently re-writing) in no particular order, which I hope will help you set the vibe too. :+)

Names in bold are links for easy listening - tons of Hozier and Of Monsters and Men up ahead, five minute warning.

1. ‘Fire and the Flood’ - Vance Joy

If you listen to nothing else on this list, listen to this one - it’s the kind of song that’s made for movies about yearning. Folk influences, choruses of trumpets and vocal harmony, and instruments that are layered for a rich, resonant sound. This is the song I imagine Dismas and Reynauld horse-racing through a crowded outdoors market in the hamlet to, and the song I listened to nonstop freshman year when I first started writing The Myth of Sisyphus.

You're the fire and the flood And I'll always feel you in my blood Everything is fine When your hand is resting next to mine Next to mine You're the fire and the flood

The chorus is built around biblical allusions to the fire (the burning bush signifying first contact) and the flood (destruction of the first world), the beginning and end. Every line is similarly evocative of Darkest Dungeon in their simplicity (“I’ve been getting used to waking up with you,” etc.)

2. ‘Soldier, Poet, King’ - The Oh Hellos

By the title alone you can guess who this is for. Even the Guild quote for the Leper approaches these three things as the defining parts of his character (specifically it’s “a ruined man, a warrior, and a poet.”) This song coincidentally has an old world influence to it, with a Medieval Renaissance style from a guitar playing a lute-adjacent melody.

There will come a ruler Whose brow is laid in thorn Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord

To be smeared with oil is to be anointed by a prophet and thus chosen by god himself to be king, just as David was and his boy after him (presumably Solomon). There’s something strangely wistful about the imagery, which is just how I like my songs about bygone kings.

3. ‘Exit Hymn’ - Bear Attack!

This song is about the end of the world in a version where everyone simply stands together in silence watching, rather than having the masses swarming in panic.

Lovely shapes to the world descending, Brothers and sisters. Lovely shapes to the world descending, Brothers and sisters Mute.

It defies Lovecraftian horror, which is based on the premise that “common human laws and interests and emotions have no validity or significance in the vast cosmos-at-large” - it flies in the face of existential nihilism and the despair that it should bring us. That’s why I like this song for deaths in the end-boss fight; it also has a special place for other death-related ideas, like full-party wipes - entire teams of people vanishing into the dungeons, gone insane, holding hands while the darkness surrounds them.

It’s a bare song which has a sanctity to it, mostly just piano and rain and human voices. Just what you would hear at the end of the world.

More under the cut:

4. ‘Pursuit of Glory’ - Jhameel

This song is laid-back. It doesn’t have the Homeric intensity that some of the other songs here do - it’s a guy with a guitar and vocal harmony. By god is it a great piece of writing though (all of Jhameel’s older songs have that quality to them), and all of it is evocative of Darkest Dungeon.

So many eyes set on the path to glory Too many ties, friendship is for the lonely Can't still my heart, my tongue has tasted folly Thirsty for art, hungry for power and money

This is a song for everyone in the barracks, especially the ‘laundry list’ of people and their approaches to the pursuit of glory.

5. ‘Good Old Days’ - Macklemore (feat. Kesha)

This fucker put a Macklemore song in here. I did, yeah. It’s not even the only song with Kesha in it here (I’m sorry.) 

It’s a sentimental pop song, and I am sentimental to a fault. This is Darkest Dungeon AMV material, and I always mishear one of the lines as “we were underground, loaded mercs in that 12-passenger van” so it’s here.

We've come so far, I guess I'm proud And I ain't worried about the wrinkles around my smile I've got some scars, I've been around I've felt some pain, I've seen some things, but I'm here now Those good old days

6. ‘Past Lives‘ - Kesha

Here it is, the other Kesha song - this was introduced to me by a good friend, also in a Darkest Dungeon context. There’s just something about the lovers spanning time trope and finding each other in one life to the next that is irresistible (for the obvious reason in the context of Darkest Dungeon.) It’s a soft song, totally out of place in Kesha’s typical discography, and has a line about losing someone to the crusades, so... you know.

There's just somethin' about you I know Started centuries ago though You see your kiss is like a lost ghost Only I would know But I, I keep on falling for you Time after time Time after time

7. ‘Viva la Vida’ - Coldplay

You cannot fight this. You know that this is the song for King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem, you know it is. Did you know the official name of this genre of music is “Baroque pop”? Yes, that means more songs like this exist. You will live with this information now.

Don’t fight it. Just let it wash over you.

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing Roman Cavalry choirs are singing Be my mirror, my sword and shield My missionaries in a foreign field For some reason I can't explain Once you go there was never, never an honest word And that was when I ruled the world

Mirror, sword, and shield, the three other members of his party, his missionaries in a foreign field. Thinking emoji. I typed that out so I wouldn’t have a repeat of the crab emoji incident.

8. ‘The Boxer’ - Jerry Douglas (feat. Mumford & Sons, Paul Simon)

Partly inspired by the Bible, Simon & Garfunkle’s ‘The Boxer’ is a folk rock song about poverty, loneliness, and homesickness. It’s written and sung in a style that’s strongly reminiscent of older times, and the final verse about its eponymous boxer is particularly powerful:

In the clearing stands a boxer And a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of ev'ry glove that laid him down Or cut him till he cried out In his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving" But the fighter still remains

This is what I use for Dismas’ life leading into organized crime and his foolish abandonment of stable job prospects in a half-baked bid for fame, as well as being punched down over and over again but with nowhere else to go. That last part is widely applicable across the cast.

9. ‘I Will Wait’ - Mumford & Sons

I am but a simple man. I see 'folk rock' and add it to my Darkest Dungeon playlist. This song I use for Reynauld - it has that sort of “salt of the earth,” somewhat biblical humility in its choice of words and style. 

Raise my hands Paint my spirit gold And bow my head Keep my heart slow

10. ‘Little Lion Man’ - Mumford & Sons

Have we not beaten this song to death yet? Can you blame us? This is the people’s song. We reserve it for all of our favorite fuck-up characters, as primal as Saturn devouring his son. We love this song. Jesus.

Tremble for yourself, my man, You know that you have seen this all before Tremble little lion man, You'll never settle any of your scores Your grace is wasted in your face, Your boldness stands alone among the wreck Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck

The line about learning from your mother in particular is why I think of this song for Dismas’ introspection, but I also associate it with the Hellion.

11. ’From Eden’ - Hozier

There’s too much Hozier in my playlists. There is so much of it, and it’s all important to me, says the hoarder. There’s something about profoundly intimate folk music that I love, and god put folk, R&B, blues, and alt rock into a Vitamix for 45 seconds to make Hozier.

Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

‘From Eden’ is, according to Hozier, about idolizing someone from a distance, written from the perspective of the devil “looking longingly at something he desires - for everything that he does not have.” I associate this song with the Grave Robber for its playfully nihilistic tone - Audrey does say something to the effect of being left for dead by high society and the affectionate bordering condescending address is on-brand.

12. ‘Cherry Wine’ - Hozier

‘Cherry Wine’ is unabashedly about domestic violence, and its sincerity is heartbreaking, the sanctification of the blood spilled in the name of keeping her.

The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine Open hand or closed fist would be fine The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

This song is strongly tied to the Vestal for me.

13. ‘Work Song’ - Hozier

A song about unconditional love - heaven and hell were just words, indeed.

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

I think of this song for both Dismas and the Abomination - it’s a song about love transcending spiritual and even physical need, complete devotion, but something about it is also not quite right. It’s morbid and excessive, self-pitying, and almost ugly in its sincerity.

14. ‘Sunlight’ - Hozier

The strong gospel influence with the choruses, church organ, religious fervor - I think it makes a great song for traveling scenes and church/altar scenes.

I had been lost to you, sunlight Flew like a moth to you, sunlight oh sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight (sunlight, sunlight) But it is sunlight

15. ‘Arsonist’s Lullabye’ - Hozier

The gospel this time is paired with electric rock instrumentation. Something about the lamentation is unapologetic and matter-of-fact in its disturbing inclinations - this is Paracelsus’ song. Arguably representative of Bounty Hunter and Flagellant as well.

Now that I think about it, it’s great for Abomination as well. Damn.

All you have is your fire And the place you need to reach Don't you ever tame your demons But always keep 'em on a leash

16. ‘We Sink’ - Of Monsters and Men

Of Monsters and Men are closer to the indie rock/pop spectrum with influences of folk, with much less biblical influence and more folklore-inspired lyrics. They make for great trailer and action songs.

We are the sleepers, we bite our tongues We set the fire and we let it burn Through the dreamers, we hear the hum They say come on, come on, let's go So come on, come on, let's go

In Lovecraft’s Cthulu mythos, dreams are how the Old Ones commune with humans on the earth’s surface while they slumber in the ocean depths (Cthulhu fhtagn meaning “Cthulhu is dreaming”); I like to think of the ‘sleepers’ as the heroes being tasked to “set the fire” and the ‘dreamers’ being the Heir and Ancestor driven by some unseen force to unearth the antediluvian underground.

17. ‘I Of The Storm’ - Of Monsters and Men

Very somber song, overwhelmingly piano and snare drum and vocals. Also a great death scene song, or for introspection around the campfire, or played to reveal a major event.

If I could face them If I could make amends With all my shadows I'd bow my head And welcome them

18. ‘King and Lionheart’ - Of Monsters and Men

My favorite OMAM song - it’s clearly written about two children, kind of reminiscent of ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ in its fantastical nature, and very upbeat about the end of the world.

His crown lit up the way as we moved slowly Pass the wondering eyes of the ones that were left behind Though far away, though far away, though far away We're still the same, we're still the same, we're still the same

This part is reminiscent of the Leper’s journey, but the mentions of taking over a town, howling ghosts, the end of the world, a black sea and creatures lurking below, etc. are all evocative of Darkest Dungeon.

19. ‘Little Talks’ - Of Monsters and Men

Also very upbeat for its subject matter - according to OMAM, it’s a narrative of a woman speaking with the ghost of her dead husband, or going insane and believing that she’s speaking with her dead husband.

Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear 'Cause though the truth may vary This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

The call-and-respond style of the song is haunting. I like this song for expeditions and afflicted heroes.

20. ‘Wolves Without Teeth’ - Of Monsters and Men

Suitable for both Occultist and Abomination, being consumed by an unseen and otherworldly force that inhabits them - well, maybe just rarely seen, in the Abomination’s case. Special mention to OMAM’s ‘Human,’ same conceptual backing but more raw.

You hover like a hummingbird Haunt me in my sleep You're sailing from another world Sinking in my sea, oh You're feeding on my energy I'm letting go of it He wants it

21. ‘Desierto’ (Original Motion Picture Score) - Woodkid

This is a full album, because all of it is dark orchestral cinema music described as ‘unsettling,’ with the sole exception of ‘Land of All,’ which has vocals to it. I reserve this album for writing fight scenes and for particularly unsettling events because it’s tense and wordless. I read Junji Ito to this soundtrack too, it’s insanely high-strung and discordant.

22. ‘Iron’ - Woodkid

‘Iron’ qualifies as Baroque pop - you might recognize this as the Assassin’s Creed: Revelations song. The large-scale, cinematic style of it and thematic lyrics make it great for writing about dramatic encounters or brigands.

This deadly burst of snow is burning my hands I'm frozen to the bones, I am A million miles from home, I'm walking away I can't recall your eyes, your face

23. ‘Never Let You Down’ - Woodkid (feat. LYKKE LI)

Another somber song, orchestral with some industrial noise in the mix - another great introspection song, or one for a scene with some hard decisions to be made.

Will you come along cause I'm about to leave this town In my eyes, a waterfall, all I can hear, a siren call Could you be waiting by the shore, oh I could drown without you Will you be holding out the line when I fall?

24. ‘Run Boy Run’ - Woodkid

Church bells, fast percussion, strong orchestral presence. For chase scenes, obviously, but great for fast-paced sneaking scenes as well. Also has a strong quasi-Medieval fantasy setting style to it.

Tomorrow is another day And you won't have to hide away You'll be a man, boy! But for now it's time to run, it's time to run!

25. ‘I Love You’ - Woodkid

Don’t let the scream effects and aggressive percussion at the beginning deter you (it kind of took me by surprise the first few times too) - it soon fades into more of the church bells and melodic string accompaniment.

Oh yeah, unrequited love song? It’s free (mental) real estate, baby.

Is there anything I could do Just to get some attention from you? In the waves, I've lost every trace of you Where are you?

26. ‘Vagabonds’ - Grizfolk

A rare departure from folk! Grizfolk is alt rock/indie pop. Stylistically it doesn’t match the feeling of Darkest Dungeon, but lyrically it’s almost 1:1 to arrival in the hamlet and the subsequent expeditions. Good song for writing about recruits bonding.

Oh this careless ground, guessing this is home now Oh in no man's land, at least we're still standing And we're all just fighting, some of us will not return And there's no redemption in trying to find your way out

27. ‘Everybody Wants To Rule The World’ - Lorde

Great trailer fuel, if you’ve seen the AC: Unity E3 trailer with this song - I listen to an extended version when writing fights in the Guild, especially one where two heroes are beefing. It’s got a primal kind of thing going on. I also associate this song with the Arbalest - lyrically, it fits her backstory like a glove.

Welcome to your life There's no turning back Even while we sleep We will find you

Acting on your best behavior Turn your back on mother nature

28. ‘Torches’ - X Ambassadors

More alt rock/indie pop - kind of a rallying song for dark expeditions, hopeful but still somber in nature - some gospel elements. X Ambassadors’ more popular ‘Renegades’ is also a fun tavern song.

Come on, carry your flame Carry it higher Leave it in the darkness Carry your torches

29. ‘Passing Afternoon’ - Iron & Wine

This is a song I use for reconciliation or domestic scenes - Dismas with Junia in the garden, for example. It’s soft and kind of meandering, and features vintage piano - you know, the piano you heard in the basement of your church turned community center as a child.

There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

30. ‘Some Nights’ - Fun.

You know this song, your mom knows this song, everyone knows this song from like, middle school. Thought it’d be fun to end this list on an uplifting and very popular song. This is the song that a Disney adaptation of Darkest Dungeon would use in the Training Montage™ - from the point of view of Reynauld. It hits all of the points - being their commander rather than their equal, his stern and antisocial zealotry with no true ideology behind it, the ghost of his wife.

Verse 2, starting with “Well, that is it, guys, that is all / Five minutes in and I'm bored again” is where I see it transitioning to Dismas.

Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end 'Cause I could use some friends for a change And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again Some nights, I always win (I always win) But I still wake up, I still see your ghost Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh What do I stand for? What do I stand for? Most nights, I don't know

_____

Well that’s all from me! Feel free to leave your own recommendations in the replies, and I’d love to know what you think about my personal picks. :+)

#darkest dungeon #playlist #song reccomendations #fic: the myth of sisyphus #give me that hozier baby