letheslullaby

[letheslullaby]

words cannot express how much i love the cosmic horror trope of "character gets too close to The Horrors but instead of going insane or being blinded or otherwise physically scarred or cognitively impaired they just lose their emotional capacity completely, becoming an anhedonic shell, which doesn't seem like it should be such a terrible fate compared to what what else they could have lost until you remember that your feelings also govern your basic self-preservation and survival instincts, ability to make choices, consent, etc."

[letheslullaby]

site that you can type in the definition of a word and get the word

site for when you can only remember part of a word/its definition 

site that gives you words that rhyme with a word

site that gives you synonyms and antonyms

[letheslullaby]

everyone is the hero of their own comedic-relief B-plot. hope the two guys who walked past me talking about "five hundred and thirty dollars' worth of slim jims" are having fun in today's episode

[letheslullaby]

Do you think hauntings can go both ways. Like, if a ghost is a dead person who can't move on, what is an alive person who can't let go of someone dead? Grief as a form of haunting. Dragging the memory of a corpse with you because it's all that's left of them. Seeing them out of the corner of your eye sometimes. You know. It pairs nicely with obsession of revenge

[letheslullaby]

The abandoned child you’ve taken in sleeps on your lap as the god who gave you immortality softly warns you. “This will hurt.”

[letheslullaby]

Saying you dedicate your hunts to the Goddess Artemis started as a weird private joke to yourself. You never thought it would result in the actual goddess visiting you and asking to teach her how to hunt with a rifle.

[letheslullaby]

When people get a little too gung-ho about-

wait. cancel post. gung-ho cannot be English. where did that phrase come from? China?

ok, yes. gōnghé, which is…an abbreviation for “industrial cooperative”? Like it was just a term for a worker-run organization? A specific U.S. marine stationed in China interpreted it as a motivational slogan about teamwork, and as a commander he got his whole battalion using it, and other U.S. marines found those guys so exhausting that it migrated into English slang with the meaning “overly enthusiastic”.

That’s…wild. What was I talking about?

[letheslullaby]

“Lord Byron gets up at two. I get up, quite contrary to my usual custom … at 12. After breakfast we sit talking till six. From six to eight we gallop through the pine forest which divide Ravenna from the sea; we then come home and dine, and sit up gossiping till six in the morning. I don’t suppose this will kill me in a week or fortnight, but I shall not try it longer. Lord B.’s establishment consists, besides servants, of ten horses, eight enormous dogs, three monkeys, five cats, an eagle, a crow, and a falcon; and all these, except the horses, walk about the house, which every now and then resounds with their unarbitrated quarrels, as if they were the masters of it… . [P.S.] I find that my enumeration of the animals in this Circean Palace was defective … . I have just met on the grand staircase five peacocks, two guinea hens, and an Egyptian crane. I wonder who all these animals were before they were changed into these shapes.”

— Percy Bysshe Shelley on the lifestyle of Lord Byron (via timemarauder)

[letheslullaby]

An old soft proofing tutorial of mine that I’ve been getting requests to post again.

[letheslullaby]

An old soft proofing tutorial of mine that I’ve been getting requests to post again.

[letheslullaby]

I want to see a work of fiction that reverses the "vampires are snobby upper class, werewolves are brutish lower class" stereotypes

[letheslullaby]

I want to see a work of fiction that reverses the "vampires are snobby upper class, werewolves are brutish lower class" stereotypes

[letheslullaby]

so sad that people got sick of "doomed by the narrative" and decided it was cringe, because fate and free will in fiction has been a major interest of mine for like eight years, but alas so it goes. anything that gets popular is destined to become reviled in short order. it's like some sort of unstoppable, uncompassionate, avaricious cycle of rising and falling and rising again. like whatever happens, no matter the intentions, it will always result in the same tragic ending. you could almost say it was d

[letheslullaby]

it's hilarious how if you do any amount of research into life or death melee combat the prevailing themes that emerge are that

you're gonna get tired very quickly

tired leads to injured, injured leads to tired, tired leads to—

you're not gonna be as composed as you expect

humans are more fragile than you think and also more durable than you think. both are true and neither stop them from dying of an infection later (DO NOT GET BITTEN)

DO NOT GET STABBED (generally good life advice)

DO GET A SPEAR

knights are faster than you think

[letheslullaby]

I dream of amber water; of slender whiskers, kuhli loaches snuffling through the mulm.

When I wake, amidst filth and debris, I will tiptoe round the aftermath of too much love and too little patience. I will go through the motions of turning on two sets of lights, giving nocturnal creatures a chance to adjust to the rising son of someone who cannot spare the thought to love half the way we do. Sifting through the moldering remnants of unkempt order, I will wish once more that I'd been born with instructions; that I'd been born easy to love.

Waltzing the thin line between being disabled and being a disappointment, existing in the centerpiece of a venn diagram between something difficult to care for and something difficult to love; I did not always feel this way. I was not always on the verge of shattering. These days though, I am more fragile than quarter inch glass; I fear I've uncovered a soul made of porcelain. I am too delicate for my mother to handle, so she tosses me to the hounds. I'm sorry you don't know how to love me. I wish you would put in the effort to try.

Between stems of rotala and live oak leaf litter, something shimmers. I've done my research, worn trails into my carpet pacing out the steps it takes to love them. Kuhli loaches do not do well alone; communal creatures, they weave themselves among one another, a living thread that shimmers dusky pink beneath dim light. Dark eyes and downturned mouths made for snuffling through the dirt, I could watch them for hours, murmuring softly: I am trying to learn how to love you enough to save you. I am trying to learn how to love you enough to survive. I will not be the same as my mother. You do not have to beg me to try.

#beastiebites #the beast speaks #poetry #fishblr #actually autistic #autistic burnout #actually adhd #disabled poet

[letheslullaby]

If y’all ever need pictures of animals tucked into bed please do not hesitate to hit my line I have a very small folder specifically for that

[letheslullaby]

I wish I lived in a world that wanted me.

Like, a world that wanted me to live in it, that wanted people like me to stay alive in it.

I've been burnt out for three years, and some days waking up feels less like living and more like dreaming. I try to explain to my mother that, at this rate, I will not survive college. I am running on fumes, I tell her, and someday soon there will be nothing left in me to save. She does not understand, simply asks why I cannot do as I have done every day for the last 20 years and move forward. I do not know how to explain that in high-school the engines of my mind caught fire, and nobody cared to repair them. That I have been pushing these shaking limbs forward with my fading will for two years. That if I do not find rest, she will bury me alongside my father.

She tells me this is how the world is. I spit back, why? Tell me why it must be this way.

Why must it be this way?

Why must I struggle every day to survive? I am tired, I tell her, I am sick. I cannot walk forever in the desert repenting for the sin of being born unwanted, I cannot survive while begging on my knees for the rest of my life.

You were healthy once, she says. As if that means I'd be well forever. You walked farther before.

I want to scream, I want to sob, I want to take the bandages off of my feet and wail, yes, and look what it got me. Instead I sit silent, knowing not how to make her understand she is digging my grave with her open hands.

I look into the world through the window to avoid her gaze, and I see it burning. She asks if I've considered getting a job.

I do not think a job could save me.

#The Beast Speaks #poetry #actually autistic #actually adhd #autistic burnout #bringing this back cause Hoo Boy is it Topical