#there is no world where I would call myself a good poet
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poetry advice? I write songs, not the same thing, but close enough. I really admire what I've seen you write, and I know poetry is pretty much a "go for anything" field, but I tend to get stuck when transitioning topics. I don't know, just thought I might throw it out there?
Bonus: favorite piece of poetry you've written?
(Good luck with your... 700+ asks?)
Oh oof, I can try to give poetry advice? I'm going to be honest, poetry is a place I'm very insecure. I write it for myself, for a few select individuals, and occasionally as a larger part of art/fic pieces.
I think my best advice would be: read a lot of it. Which I feel like is advice I give to a lot of people about a lot of things, but part of learning is consuming. Read it and look at it critically, collect the things you like and analyze why.
Also, poetry more than anything, I would say, don't delete anything, even stuff you really hate in the moment. Toss it in a scraps document, where you can search for it later. A lot of poetry is curation. It's writing an idea over and over and picking better, more succinct or impactful words, figuring out better alliteration, reworking for a better rhyme. But those discarded phrases might be a jumping off point for a future project, or something that strikes you as tired or rote for one topic might be amazing for another.
Favorite piece of poetry I've written. Ahm. Hm. Well. I'll toss it under the cut since it's long. For this poem, I was experimenting with the idea of continual flow: In poetry, punctuation, not sentence/stanza break, denotes where the reader is supposed to rest a sentence. I wanted to mess with the idea that the poem is a long run on sentence, with no rhymes, that has roughly 6-8 syllables per line, with a sudden stop when the only punctuation finally happens. It took some doing [and it still doesn't flow nearly as smoothly as I'd like] but it manages the sudden stop at the end very well.
Sprinter
I write poetry at a sprint it feels like mania where it swells up inside and it runs and runs like a sentence you can’t breathe through and I was told once punctuation is important but to breathe is to rest and to rest is to end and don’t they know a full stop is exactly that don’t they know a question does not answer and the mark that denotes its purpose is discordant don't they know that to end is to end is to end and you cannot stop you cannot breathe because we are sprinting through every moment we are running to meet an end and every moment is precious but every moment is fleeting and the beautiful wonderful amazing things are but glimpses yet the sadness lingers and its just a moment in time but it lasts forever but forever is shorter than it looks and the horizon stretches but its the edge of the world and don't they know the world isn’t flat but there is a line on a machine and it beeps in mountains and valleys and it screams when it plains don’t you know that I’m sprinting because life is like a box of chocolates it rots.
#answering asks#anonymous#poetry#writing advice#sorry this isn't very helpful#poetry is one of those things i pick at when i'm bored and don't mind feeling like i'm doing something badly#there is no world where I would call myself a good poet#i wouldn't even call myself a mediocre one
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taylor swift lyrics, the tortured poets department edition, part one
fortnight
▸ i was supposed to be sent away but they forgot to come and get me. ▸ i was a functioning alcoholic till nobody noticed my new aesthetic. ▸ no one here's to blame but what about your quiet treason? ▸ for a fortnight there, we were forever. ▸ i took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary. ▸ i love you, it's ruining my life. ▸ thought of calling you but you won't pick up.
the tortured poets department
▸ who uses typewriters anyway? ▸ you're in self-sabotage mode. ▸ we're modern idiots. ▸ you smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate. ▸ i chose this cyclone with you. ▸ sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me. ▸ so tell me, who else is gonna know me? ▸ that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.
my boy only breaks his favorite toys
▸ you should've seen them when they first got me. ▸ i only break my favourite toys. ▸ i should've known it was a matter of time. ▸ we could've played for keeps this time. ▸ i know i'm just repeating myself. put me back on my shelf. ▸ i'll tell you that [you/they] run because [you/they] love me. ▸ i knew too much. ▸ you saw forever so you smashed it up. ▸ once i fix me, you're gonna miss me. ▸ you took me out of my box, stole my tortured heart, left all these broken parts and told me i'm better off but i'm not.
down bad
▸ for a moment, i knew cosmic love. ▸ now i'm down bad, crying at the gym. ▸ everything comes out of teenage petulance. ▸ fuck it if i can't have [you/them]. ▸ i might just die, it would make no difference. ▸ i might just not get up, i might just stay down bad. ▸ fuck it, i was in love.
so long, london
▸ my spine split from carrying us up the hill. ▸ i stopped trying to make you laugh. ▸ how much sad did you think i had in me? ▸ i didn't opt in to be your odd man out. ▸ i'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free. ▸ you say i abandoned the ship but i was going down with it. ▸ my friends said it isn't right to be scared every day of a love affair. ▸ just how low did you think i'd go before i'd self-implode? ▸ you swore that you loved me but where were the clues? ▸ i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place.
but daddy i love him
▸ i just learned these people only raise you to cage you. ▸ i just learned these people try and save you 'cause they hate you. ▸ they slammed the door on my whole world. the one thing i wanted. ▸ you should see your face. ▸ no i'm not coming to my senses. ▸ i know [you/they]'re crazy but [you/they]'re the one i want. ▸ all my plans were laid. ▸ growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all. ▸ i'll tell you something right now, i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning. ▸ i'll tell you something about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace. ▸ i don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing. ▸ god save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for me. ▸ you ain't gotta pray for me if all you want is gray for me. then it's just white noise and it's just my choice. ▸ scandal does funny things to pride but brings lovers closer. ▸ fuck 'em, it's over. ▸ time, doesn't it give some perspective?
fresh out the slammer
▸ fresh out the slammer, i know who my first call will be to. ▸ handcuffed to the spell i was under, for just one hour of sunshine. ▸ years of labor, locks and ceilings, in the shade of how [they were] feeling. ▸ it's gonna be alright, i did my time. ▸ as i said in my letters, now that i know better, i will never lose my baby again. ▸ my friends tried but i wouldn't hear it, watched me daily disappearing. ▸ ain't no way i'm gonna screw up, now that i know what's at stake here.
florida!!!
▸ you can beat the heat if you beat the charges too. ▸ they said i was a cheat, i guess it must be true. ▸ this city reeks of driving myself crazy. ▸ little did you know, your home's really only a town you're just a guest in. ▸ i'm barricaded in the bathroom with a bottle of wine. ▸ well, me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time. ▸ yes, i'm haunted but i'm feeling just fine. ▸ all my girls got their lace and their crimes. ▸ i did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that have ever been on my body. ▸ i've got some regrets, i'll bury them in florida. ▸ tell me i'm despicable, say it's unforgivable. ▸ love left me like this and i don't want to exist.
#rp meme#rp starters#sentence starters#lyrics rp starters#lyrics starters#lyrics rp meme#roleplay meme#lyrics meme#taylor swift lyrics rp meme
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Happy Sunday!! Today prompts for my Polin Kinktober are Dirty Talking and Dacryphilia (which is a form of paraphilia in which one is aroused by tears or sobbing - this story is my version of that k!nk) also, there is going to be some exploration of body image issues, so if you're sensitive to that, keep that in mind. This is also more modern!au than regency.
Colin knew he had to stage an intervention.
He left Pen for a round of shopping and she come back almost in tears, not having found anything. Or to be precise, she did find plenty of stuff, but no one had her size. Which was also Colin experience, sometimes, being so tall, but it seems it weight on her a lot.
Which is why he staged that intervention. He don't have the pretence it would fix her problems, but maybe it will help her a bit.
His resolve straightened when he noticed she didn't ask him to follow in the showers as usual.
So, he did wait in their bedroom, already naked, for her to arrive.
She looked like a siren or a goddess, as she walked almost naked in their space.
She looked at him and smiled, knowing why he was here.
"How did you know I needed some of your reassurances?"
He smiled back, inviting her into the bed. "I know you sweetheart and how hard you are working on loving your body."
He did know. Hours and hours of therapy.
"I also know sometimes it is normal to have a little bit of a down. I want to help."
Pen caressed his cheek. "You been here helps, more than anything in the world. But yeah, proceed with your intervention."
She chuckled as she was kissing him.
"Lie down love and open the towel for me, please," he said, whispering against her ear.
She trembled a bit but she listened to him, her gorgeous body unveiled for him and him only.
Intervention was just a name he gave to this: he would undress Pen and calling her all the beautiful things she deserved until she was crying - the emotional release she needed after the physical one.
Colin loved to be able to do this for her, her tears and sob not because she was feeling ugly, but because his words and action made her feel beautiful and cherished.
He started by straddled her, caressing her cheek again.
"There is nothing I love more than losing myself in the splendor that are your eyes. They shine so bright when I'm near you. They become almost black when I do something you like. Your lips too are sinful just to look at, as I want them all over my body. Your tongue is a s devilish as the rest, making me feeling so good."
He accentuated each word with a soft touch on said parts that made her gasp and tremble slightly.
He kissed her again, deeply, before moving down.
"I don't think the poets have yet thought of a word good enough to describe what I feel when I can see your lovely neck on display," he stopped to give a light bite to said neck, making her giggle, "and you know that your breasts are my religion. I have never seen something so transcendental. Full and round, and the way the flesh spills when I squeeze them," he said, squeezing them, "if I could I would make you forsake every bra, so I would just access to these beauties every single time."
He paused to give each breast a kiss and a light suck on the nipple, making her moan.
"You waist and your tummy. I know how you feel about them, but I love every roll and every stretch mark. So good under my hands, it makes me want to kneel in worship," he whispered, squeezing and touching, while his tongue followed some of her stretch marks. Pen was looking at him, her eyes shining with unshed tear as he went down.
"The curve of your stomach that dips into your mound. I dream about that curve. If I was good at math, I would find its equation, because somehow I can grab it as it was made just for me," he added, demonstrating his statement. He went on her hips and her thighs, a kidding where she was most sensitive for now.
"I tremble the first time I touched your thigh. This creamy expanse of skin and muscle and, yes, fat... Because it's not a bad word, I love how you squeeze me when I put my cock there."
And then, her ass "you don't know how many times I almost fall, just walking, because I was lost looking at your fantastic ass moving." He confessed, hearing her laugh softly.
"And this pussy," he said opening her legs wider "this pussy is my religion. Your auburn curls glistening with arousal at my words, the way your vagina clutch and stretch around my cock. Your clit, the source of your pleasure. My altar on which I give myself to you." He put one finger on her slit, finding her wet.
"I love eating you while my hands find every dip and curve of your body," and then he did just so, teasing her with tongue and mouth as his hands went to touch her hips and waist, her stomach and her thighs, all the places he most loved.
"Fùck, Pen... I need you," he said breathless and as she nodded, he align himself, entering slowly.
"The way you accept me inside you," he said before starting thrusting, "so wet and warm, it's like you were made for me."
He lift her legs and put them on his shoulder, chasing the right angle.
Pen was sobbing by now, he left her tears untouched as she was watching him, moaning her pleasure. "Pen, my love. You are everything I always dreamed and more," he said as tears were falling on his face too. He didn't care. She was more important.
They released almost at the same time, Colin slightly before Pen, as if his orgasm triggered hers as well.
Only then he moved, kissing her again and tasting their tears combined. It was always so emotional for both of them, when they did it like this, but as they cuddled and whispering love words to each other, they had not a care on the world.
Colin did make Pen laugh the next morning: he sad he would start a sewing course, so he could make her dresses she liked.
#polin#bridgerton#bridgerton season 3#bridgerton s3#polin positivity#luke newton#nicola coughlan#polin bridgerton#polin brainrot#polin fanfiction#colin x penelope#colin bridgerton#penelope featherington#tw: body image#dirty talk#dacryphilia
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tortured poets review. by song
fortnight: fine. sounds like a song. one of the lana drag ones. the actual lyrical content is nothing special. i would not have made this track one. 6/10
tortured poets department: kind of exactly what you would expect from a taylor swift album called tortured poets department. it's silly. it's got references. it makes you go. girl? already less distinct musically. 3/10
my boy only breaks his favorite toys: the consequence of doing lana drag is that you listen to songs and go this would be a lot better if lana got her chords on it. fundamentally not a song that i can enjoy from taylor allison swift. a song i would respect in lana of video games fame catalogue once she strips it down. not like head turningly strange like tpd just plain and simple middle of the road. 4/10
down bad: this one is unlistenable for me. cant explain why. probably the chorus of down bad. i think it's tooooooo silly too silly by far when taylor swift does how do you do fellow teens vocabulary. 2/10
so long london: i can see the place that this takes on my spotify wrapped. lyrics are fine. good even. this + backing + doing something even the littlest bit different from soft monotone talk singing makes it one of the most memorable on this album by miles. probably not near the top of most memorable in her hundreds deep bench though. can't think of anything to dock it for but it's no belter. 8/10.
but daddy i love him: yeah okay. i love when she does a silly one. i think the instrumentals are nice. i'm having his baby. no i'm not! but you should see your face. easily i would listen to an album that was full of songs to this theme / musicality. points docked because i dont think she knows it's as silly as it is. 7/10.
fresh out the slammer: bored. i just looked at the lyrics and they're passable but they're performed in the most boring possible manner. stupidest name imaginable. i actually might bump it a point or two if the name was different. 4/10
florida: makes me go yaaaaaay florence every time i hear it. taylor's part halsey 2014 core. could have been worse! if i was in charge of cutting tracks i would keep this one. 6/10
guilty as sin: started it went oh i'm docking this one for boring. read the first quarter of lyrics and went oh this is fine? got to second half and went oh i don't care for this. can imagine a world where it's a better song with different backing and emphasis. 5/10
whose afraid of little old me: i dont think it's good necessarily but i love every song where shes like im craaaazy im insane. i think for the concept it's going for it could have been put together differently. 6/10
i can fix him: i like the way it sounds. but could use more oomph. it's so nice to hear guitars though. don't care for the subject matter. 5/10
loml: snooze. boring lyrics. boring performance. 4/10
i can do it with a broken heart: BAFFLING. easily the me / karma of the album. the tonal mismatch is the point but . well. it is what it is. i would like this more if it WAS a barbie soundtrack release i think. then it would have an extra layer of silly. i think this might make my wrapped. unfortunately. 5/10.
smallest man who ever lived: who gives a shit about matty healy. 4/10
the alchemy: head in my hands. head in my hands. football song. it's so over. and we are never going to be so back. 3/10
clara bow: i like the intro. i can't see myself ever doing more than half humming this. lyrics are whatever. fine, passable. 6/10
the black dog: yeah it's fine. no complaints. guitar 👍. 6/10
getyouback: why would you EVER tee yourself up perfectly to be compared to a better song. 3/10
albatross: oh i liked this one on first listen. 7/10.
chloe sam sophia marcus: outing song ‼️‼️‼️divorce music‼️‼️‼️. nothing too exciting or groundbreaking musically. 5.5?
how did it end: um. it gets points for being #real but not much else. 5/10.
so high school: i think i would like it if it was even a TOUCH less heterosexual. i would cut 3 lines that would turn it into a 6. i can see this song in someone else's hands dominating the radio and me loving that. in taylor's hands i'm giving it a 5/10.
i hate it here: not interesting. next. 4/10
thank you aimee: out of respect for taylor swift's struggles i will withhold comment and rating. -_-
look in people's windows: lyrics aren't bad but it's another one that's not really. doing anything. 4/10
the prophecy: yeah i'll give this one a 7/10. i would have one (1) greige complaint if this was on folkevermore but that's pretty damn solid.
cassandra: passing it and moving on. that's as much as it deserves. 5/10
peter: lyrics get a thumbs up. another 5.5? i could be talked into a six.
the bolter: yes girl commitment issues. 6/10. actually. 7/10.
robin: jesus god this album is too long. i have listened to too much taylor swift tpd to give this any kind of rating.
the manuscript: 5/10. like if woulda coulda shoulda had no beat
thank you for sharing this journey. with me and also taylor swift
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(In your mortal radi au) Does pk miss the white lady, did he go to the garden to see/serch her ?
I know that she isn't the most important character but still....
Does he even love her anymore ?
Mortal Radiance AU
These are some good questions, and they actually got me thinking a lot. I didn't really include the White Lady in my story or touch on her much. I did have one comic idea with her but it got cut to keep the story from veering off track.
Now that I'm done, though.... This is a very fascinating question.
(5 days later)
Slams paper on table
HEY SO I WROTE A THING
I am ill for weeks after I am pulled back into reality. Something about all my pieces not quite being together means I take longer to recover than She did. She tells me that it is fine, that I need to recover my strength so I can work. We still have many graves yet to dig. She will shoulder the burden for this little while.
I am told my children are informed of my new existence, though none have visited. And I do not leave to visit them. Two of them terrify me, though for vastly different reasons, and the thought of meeting again with my daughter troubles me.
When I can finally get out of bed without assistance, I do not go see her, however. I go see my Lady.
It is hard navigating without being everywhere at once. I know the path to my Lady's garden intimately, but the path is far more difficult than I recall. Greenpath, surely, has had no caretakers, so runs rampant with overgrowth. The thorns catch on my robe and tear at my skin.
I bleed something dark and smokey.
I try not to think about it too much.
My Lady's branches spill out above the entrance to her hideaway. The corpse of brave Dryya. Once a friend, now only a carcass decorating my Lady's garden. Old blood coats her blade and shell. Even in death, she seems stalwart.
I am stalling.
The White Lady stirs as I enter her chamber. Her eyes, once the purest blue eyes I have ever seen, are clouded now. She wears age like a shawl, it weighs on her shoulders and bunches up around her neck. Her face, once pale and youthful, now is tired and wrinkled. Yet, there is a beauty there of which I could never seem to word. A thousand poets could never do her justice. I should know, I have had them try.
"Child? Is that you again?" Her voice is as I recalled, and a sharp pain creases my soul. I will never again be able to call back to her.
She has bound herself, so I move forward until I am right under her. Still, her cloudy eyes do not recognize me at first, and I cannot blame her for it. Not for the first time, I wish the vessel had left me my voice. There are so many things I could say to her, so many words that now I will never be able to reach.
My Lady's eyes finally find my hollow sockets, and she gasps. It is a small thing, barely audible, but in the silence of our meeting I know to look for it. There is a moment between us of unspeakable agony.
"You." The Pale Queen finally breathes the world, and it breaks the aching quiet.
I put a hand on her bindings, 'Me' I wish I could say.
There are so many words I wish I could say. There is so much between us. Good and bad in equal measure. It has been years since we have been face to face, and I thought it would never again happen. I find myself unprepared for this moment.
She does not need my reply. My Lady knows me better than I know myself sometimes. She smiles, though it never quite reaches her eyes.
"You are smaller than I remember."
I laugh, as best I can laugh anyways. I point to her, and gesture that it is perhaps she who has grown taller. It takes her a moment to understand, but the chuckle I earn fills what is left of my soul with joy.
"Perhaps." She concedes, "I have grown much, and still have much to grow still."
Her eyes dim suddenly at that, and she looks around.
"Where is our child?" She asks at last, voice soft and weathered.
I tell her, as best I can, that I do not know. That I came to see her. I expect this to lift her spirits. It does not.
"Did you see this outcome?" She asks.
I pause for a moment. There is much to that question that I do not know. In part, it is hard to remember what it was like. How did I describe it to my daughter? Like a great root that I scuttled across, observing paths unseen to most.
I shake my head. It is too slow and uncertain for my own liking. But it is as much of the truth as I can muster.
There is a long silence that follows. I have gotten used to those, especially with Her. She rarely talks to me at all. So I wait for my Lady's response with all the patience that I have learned.
"Was it worth it?"
Her voice is so soft when she speaks, like it could crack under the gentlest of touches. Delicate, and heartbroken. With four words I can feel what little ground we shared start to shatter.
"Was any of this worth it, I wonder?" She continues, "I do not think I know anymore."
And there is a gap between us. An aching maw of a chasm that threatens to swallow us whole. I want to cross it. I want to reassure her that we had done our best, that we were not to blame.
Yet the words I was once so masterful with are gone now. The voice I would use to soothe and heal her pain now is no more. So there is silence.
Anything I would say to her would be a lie, anyways.
#hollow knight#mortal Radiance AU#mortal radi#pale king#pale king hollow knight#white lady#white lady hollow knight#fic#fanfiction#my writing#THIS WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE A FUN LIL EXCERSIZE I DIDNT MEAN TO WRITE THIS ALL OUT
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🌿 Herb Of The Day
Title: Lilac
Gender: Feminine
Element: Water
Planet: Venus
📜 Folklore & History 📜
Lilacs are an old, old, species that originated in Persia and then traveled to Europe. They were brought to America in 1750 and then planted at New Jersey Governor Wentworth’s home. Other prominent men fell in love with lilacs. They were reportedly one of Thomas Jefferson’s favorite flowers, and he documented his lilac-planting-methods in 1767. George Washington followed suit and moved existing lilacs on his property to his garden in 1785.
In Greek mythology, Pan, the god of the wild, chased a nymph named Syringa. She turned herself into a lilac bush to escape Pan, and in anger, he broke off the reed-like branches which made pipes. With regret, he tried kissing the broken branches, and as his air pushed over them, sounds were made. Lilacs were responsible for the creation of “Panpipes.”
Russian folklore believed that hanging lilacs above a baby’s bed would bring the child wisdom.
American folklore thought that lilacs could drive away evil and that placing them in a haunted house would displace ghosts. Thought to be symbolic of “old love,” Victorian widows often wore lilacs as a sign of remembrance. One hundred and fifty-five years ago today, April 15th, Abraham Lincoln died after being shot by John Wilkes Booth. Any American — and much of the world — knows the story of the self-educated, country lawyer who became one of our nation’s most beloved presidents. But what many Americans might not realize is how the death of Lincoln reverberated into so many areas of our collective psyche, including literature and horticulture, thanks to Walt Whitman. Walt Whitman was a reporter, printer, writer, traveler and Civil War nurse who is considered one of America’s greatest poets. He self-published Leaves of Grass and worked on it throughout his lifetime, eventually modifying it so that there are eight different editions. Whitman felt a great affinity with President Abraham Lincoln, and when Lincoln was assassinated in the spring of 1865, Whitman grieved.
He wrote years later in Specimen Days about learning of the President’s death:
"I remember where I was stopping at the time, the season being advanced, there were many lilacs in full bloom. By one of those caprices that enter and give tinge to events without being at all a part of them, I find myself always reminded of great tragedy of that day by the sight and odor of these blossoms. It never fails."
While lilacs are first to bloom, their flowers are short-lived. The heady fragrance lingers sweetly at first, but then the blooms start to die, leaving a heavy, cloying smell. One of the first flowers of spring, lilacs contain a natural compound called indole that’s found in flowers — and feces. It’s that undercurrent of the “bottom note” of fragrance that suggests decay and death.
🔮 Metaphysical Properties 🔮
The beautiful May-blooming lilac is one of the loveliest tokens of spring. But they are much more than beautiful shrubs with showy, sweet-smelling flowers. Originally lilacs were planted to repel all evil. Planted near the entryway, lilacs were believed to send out protective vibrations. When the flowers are cut and brought into the home they cleanse any living space. And they'll also remove any unwanted spiritual presence. Blue and white varieties work well for this purpose. Since lilacs are ruled by Venus, they are also used in love spells. Try placing some pink lilacs on your altar while performing a love spell. The dried flowers make a powerful addition to any love sachet.
🍴⚕️ Culinary & Medicinal Properties
The simplest way to enjoy lilacs is as an infusion of the flowers for a lilac sugar. The sugar can then be used in recipes to add lilac flavor to baked goods. This also works with a lilac simple syrup which is just a liquid form of the same thing that’s perfect for making cocktails. For my money though, I think lilac infused honey sounds the best. The sweet floral flavor of lilacs translates beautifully into an ice cream base.
To prevent the recurrence of disease, lilac flowers were used to help strengthen the system and prevent relapse after a patient had healed. They’re said to be specifically good after cases of malaria. Tasting the raw flowers you can actually pick up some of the astringent qualities, as they make your mouth dry and pucker a bit (along with their floral flavors). This astringent quality makes them good for use in skin care products. Lilacs are used as a folk remedy for intestinal worms, as well as a treatment for gastric discomfort and gas. Regardless of the purpose, the most likely medicinal lilac preparation is a tincture, which is just a lilac infused alcohol
#elder witch#baby witch#beginner witch#dark witchcraft#herbalism#herbology#herbs#whimsigoth#witch aesthetic#witch herbs#divination#spirituality#spiritual#witchblr#witchcore#witchcraft#witch tip
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ugh. andrew’s opening his mouth to speak his mind, now would be a good time to avert your gaze and completey tune him out.
my feed today has been a TOTAL FUCKING CESSPOOL of mpreg, forcefem, and sister fetish content. when i left my cozy corner of the world to upload my liquified thoughts for internet goers to poison their mindscapes with, i never thought id be fed this recycled slop called content every second post i scroll to.
i know it might not seem like it, but i’m a very real person. i live a very real life, i plot my next meal, i drink my coffee, i scratch my itches, i melt my brain watching tv, and jesus i SHIT better content than you mouth breathers can write!
it’s utter whiplash going from a post about glorifying substance abuse to people wanting me to be a woman. people THEORIZING that i’m stuck in the closet and that, oh, poor andrew would feel so much better being a big sister than he EVER WOULD a brother.
even as a fictive (let’s use this term loosely) i’m not fictional.
… ugh. but, let’s not get it twisted, i’m not pulling that bullshit where i say “aw jeez this is horrible i’m uncomfortable everyone’s gotta stop right now” because let’s face it, what a fucking buzzkill move.
however…
could you imagine what it feels like?
the normal and sane thing to do, would be to shut the hell up and ignore the things that don’t tickle my fancy. but i get frustrated, i get uncomfortable, and as poor of an excuse for a human being as i am- that’s exactly what i am. just a fucking human.
ugh. its not that deep. i’m just thinking tonight. and it’s exactly the reason i should distance myself from the “fandom” and consume the things i enjoy. (cue the tags. can you do anything right, andrew?)
there’s not much takeaway from my unrefined ramblings, so.. to circle back- as whitman once wrote;
“I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable”
i think i just need to shut the hell up and start minding my own business. the complexities of the human mind are too much for one brain to comprehend during such a short lifespan. everyone is a walking taboo whether they mean to be or not, everyone is just as strange and multifaceted as the next.
what i may crave the most, is the validity of being seen. being recognized as my own person. the illusion of freedom as grandiose as it sounds, for someone to sonder my existence amidst the armageddon we breathe and just
fuck. i’m losing my train of thought, now.
this pretentious poet picks and prods a praise deprived populace for a place amongst their people.
that’s all, i think. my goodnight coffee is kicking in and i need my rest if i wanna spend my day walking around town doing jack all.
i’ll burden my blog again later. seeya
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this is my first time writing a request, so please let me know if i need to be more specific! i was wondering if you could write a desi reader x the dorm heads (twisted wonderland). like introducing the boys to the culture and stuff like that? thank you!!
YES OF COURSE!!!! I’m desi myself! We desperately need representation in anime/game spaces, these are just the ones I could think of one the spot, but I saw this request and it made my day!!
also fun fact: this blog was originally supposed to be centered around desi women, but I couldn’t keep up with that idea, this is such a lovely reminder!!
Warnings: Fluff, food, hair mentioned, ‘starting a family�� mention but no kids or anything, unapologetic cultural appreciation, desi families (positive), author calls the pale ones gora pakoras, rambling
Dorm Leaders with a Desi Girlfriend!
Riddle Rosehearts
I don’t think you understand how much your mom loves him
His spice tolerance is at ZERO, but boy will he try for you
He adores gulab jamuns, I mean ROSES?? WITH DESSERT?? This is his destiny
Adores chai, drinks more chai than all your aunts combined
He loves chai so much he’ll ask for you to make it for the tea parties, drinks the chai with biscuits
OFF WITH THEIR HEAD to anyone who calls it ‘chai tea’ !!!
Desi jewelry is his favorite thing you wear, the intricate patterns and shapes make his heart beat faster
If you get him jewelry he’s probably gonna cry
“You look absolutely gorgeous, I almost can't believe you’re with me.”
Leona Kingscholar
The mix of y’all’s cultures is perfect
He will happily eat spicy meat, he can go on about the meat
Biryani is his favorite, goat or chicken
You might expect me to say your parents don’t like him, but HE’S LITERALLY A PRINCE, man is rich asf you’re gonna be taken care of
He’s also so respectful to your mom, she def tells you to act more like him
If you have to accompany him to some gaudy event in the savanna, and you choose to wear cultural clothing, like a sari or salwar kameez, he’s literally frozen
o
m
g
He’s buying a ring as we speak
All the whatsapp aunties are gossiping about the two of you, but you literally couldn’t care
He’s def the type to buy you jewelry
“I- god for once in my life I literally don’t have words, you’re glowing.”
Azul Ashengrotto
I will defend fishy fishman until my last day
he is such a good boyfriend, always treating you out and keeping you happy
Your parents support you two, because Azul has a good head on his shoulders and has a good chance of being successful
He really adores you in blue, especially blue lehengas, you look like a princess to him
he is super appreciative whenever you introduce him to new recipes, his lounge may even use some of the spice blends you suggest (with credit)
He enjoys paneer pakoras, fried desi food is a wonder to him
“I know I’m stuffing my face right now, but can you really blame me?”
Kalim Al-Asim
HE IS PERFECT !!
He’s so happy to meet someone of a similar culture to him!
But this is also where his main problem lies..
He’s so blushy around you its crazy
Never did he think he could meet someone who he knows so well, who feels like home and warm welcomes
You two go on so many adventures
Jamil is so tired, let my man rest
Sometimes the cultural overlap is so prominent, especially in words and food items
Both of you adore a good lamb curry
You ever see that tikitok trend, the “I can’t date outside of my culture because how am I supposed to explain _______”
You both can relate to that one.
Something about you brings out the poet in him
(I have to stop eventually because this could just become it’s own post)
“You are my home, you are warmth and kindness packed into a beautiful human being.”
Vil Shoenheit
THIS
He’s honestly so happy to be in a relationship with a desi girl, you open up a whole new world to him
I feel like he would be an appreciator of desi bread on his cheat days
Especially paratha, it’s so buttery and rich, he’ll eat it with achaar
Your clothes always astound him
He’s used to glitz and glamour, but the sheer amount of detail in your outfits, that will leave him speechless
I believe he’d enjoy salwar kameez, especially in a more early 2000s way (think kabhi khushi kahbie gham)
Honestly he enjoys everything about desi fashion, he deeply respects you for wearing those HEAVY
Helps you oil your hair, it’s an extremely intimate moment and you grow a lot closer together
“Liebling, please hold still, I still have to get to the back of your head!”
Idia Shroud
(He’s Greek in my heart)
Idia is such a little loser/pos
He’s so nervous at any of your family gatherings, ortho has to hype him up before
He’s definitely the person at a desi house party who slips away after the food is served, literally gone
If he ever visits your country (in a different dimension lol) he might have a tough time
Homie is so sensitive to hot weather, he’s getting sunburned so hard
He gets so shy when you’re all dolled up, he can’t even look you in the eye
You just look so above his league
This is where you build his confidence, because he would look gorgeous in desi clothes
Him in a kurta is the thing that would actually kill me
Idia is obsessed with you, even if the time you spend together is spent inside his room, cuddled up watching anime or playing games instead of socializing
You probably get him into old bollywood movies
“I mean, we ate already, what’s the point of sticking around?”
Malleus Draconia
He’s a well educated person, so he probably keeps a respectful distance until you start educating him on your culture
Malleus deeply enjoys the sense of family in desi culture, the community that helps one another and keeps your head lifted
It reminds him of his own caring upbringing
He’s another appreciator of desi desserts, more modern ones tend to stick to him better, like mango ice cream
He is smitten with Rooh Afza in milk, even if he doesn’t need human drinks
He finds your cultural apparel so pretty
especially if you wear deeper colors like emerald and black
He really just wants to match
Really enjoys historical drama bollywood movies
Is the type to tell you when your chunni is slipping off, and carries extra safety pins to help with fashion mishaps
“I hope one day, our own family will be a beautiful as this.”
I’m so sorry for the bad dialogue, every time I try to think of something a character says, the voice in my head (inner monologue) turns into bob belcher from bob’s burgers. I will be trying my best to fix the flat dialogue with better nicknames and stuff. Thank you for reading.
#new fanfic blog#female reader#fanfic#fanfiction#reader insert#fem!reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twst imagines#riddle rosehearts x reader#riddle rosehearts#leona kingscholar x reader#leona kingscholar#azul ashengrotto x reader#azul ashengrotto#kalim al asim x reader#kalim al asim#vil shoenheit#vil schoenheit x reader#idia shroud#idia shroud x reader#malleus draconia#malleus draconia x reader#headcanons#desi reader#desi!reader#WOC#woc!reader#poc reader#cultural appreciation
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Poet Delmore Schwartz, New York City Uncredited and Undated Photograph
O Delmore how I miss you. You inspired me to write. You were the greatest man I ever met. You could capture the deepest emotions in the simplest language. Your titles were more than enough to raise the muse of fire on my neck. You were a genius. Doomed.
The mad stories. O Delmore I was so young. I believed so much. We gathered around you as you read Finnegans Wake. So hilarious but impenetrable without you. You said there were few things better in life than to devote oneself to Joyce. You’d annotated every word in the novels you kept from the library. Every word.
And you said you were writing “The Pig’s Valise.” O Delmore no such thing. They looked, after your final delusion led you to a heart attack in the Hotel Dixie. Unclaimed for three days. You—one of the greatest writers of our era. No valise.
You wore the letter from T.S. Eliot next to your heart. His praise of In Dreams. Would that you could have stopped that wedding. No good will come of this!!! You were right. You begged us—Please don’t let them bury me next to my mother. Have a party to celebrate moving from this world hopefully to a better one. And you Lou—I swear—and you know if anyone could I could—you Lou must never write for money or I will haunt you.
I’d given him a short story. He gave me a B. I was so hurt and ashamed. Why haunt talentless me? I was the walker for “The Heavy Bear Who Goes With Me.” To literary cocktails. He hated them. And I was put in charge. Some drinks later—his shirt undone—one tail front right hanging—tie skewed, fly unzipped. O Delmore. You were so beautiful. Named for a silent movie star dancer Frank Delmore. O Delmore—the scar from dueling with Nietzsche.
Reading Yeats and the bell had rung but the poem was not over you hadn’t finished reading—liquid rivulets sprang from your nose but still you would not stop reading. I was transfixed. I cried—the love of the word—the heavy bear.
You told us to break into __’s estate where your wife was being held prisoner. Your wrists broken by those who were your enemies. The pills jumbling your fine mind.
I met you in the bar where you had just ordered five drinks. You said they were so slow that by the time you had the fifth you should have ordered again. Our scotch classes. Vermouth. The jukebox you hated—the lyrics so pathetic.
You called the White House one night to protest their actions against you. A scholarship to your wife to get her away from you and into the arms of whomever in Europe.
I heard the newsboy crying Europe Europe.
Give me enough hope and I’ll hang myself.
Hamlet came from an old upper class family.
Some thought him drunk but—really—he was a manic-depressive—which is like having brown hair.
You have to take your own shower—an existential act. You could slip in the shower and die alone.
Hamlet starting saying strange things. A woman is like a cantaloupe Horatio—once she’s open she goes rotten.
O Delmore where was the Vaudeville for a Princess. A gift to the princess from the stage star in the dressing room.
The duchess stuck her finger up the duke’s ass and the kingdom vanished.
No good will come of this. Stop this courtship!
Sir you must be quiet or I must eject you.
Delmore understood it all and could write it down impeccably.
Shenandoah Fish*. You were too good to survive. The insights got you. The fame expectations. So you taught.
And I saw you in the last round.
I loved your wit and massive knowledge.
You were and have always been the one.
You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him think.
I wanted to write. One line as good as yours. My mountain. My inspiration.
You wrote the greatest short story ever written. In Dreams
-- Lou Reed, "Oh Delmore How I Miss You" 2012
----
*Autobiographical Character in several Schwartz works
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Have you ever been in the position, where it’s lashing rain outside and the wind is howling its ghostly cry? You could wind down to a good film but you just feel like playing The Sims, and are in dire need of a legacy with a more story-driven aspect. That’s the position I found myself in the other evening, so I set out to put together this legacy challenge!
"Seanchas" is the Gaelic word for "Folklore", and so this legacy is very loosely inspired by some famous Irish prose and poems with some elements of Irish mythology thrown in. Please note this legacy contains three supernatural-themed generations. If you are not a fan of supernatural gameplay, you may skip these if you wish. But without further ado, let's get into the rules!
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Basic Rules:
No cheats allowed unless specified in the challenge rules. However if cheating needs and weather with UI Cheats for storytelling purposes is your thing then feel free, I do it myself.
There is no hard or fast rule when it comes to inheritance, however unless otherwise stated in the rules of the generation, anything in the range of §10-20k will do fine to get your sims started. Just make sure you leave enough for your previous heir!
For the best possible immersion, I suggest fleshing out your sims, their family and friends as much as possible with their own stories and personalities.
Have a keepsake item to represent each generation and store it in the Keepsake Box, items may be displayed during each generation before being returned to the box before the beginning of the following generation. (Credits to the amazing @windslar for this idea. It’s a great way of reflecting on your past sims!)
You must live in the prescribed worlds and lots of each generation. If no lot is prescribed you may choose a lot to call your home.
I highly suggest using @simkhira’s custom lifespans with MCC however the regular normal and long lifespans will suffice.
I recommend using custom save files and holidays to further spice up your gameplay. (I personally adore Ratboy and Simlicy’s save files as well as OshinSims’ guide to custom holidays).
Finally, just have a bit of craic, this legacy is story-heavy, however feel free to tweak your sims story to your liking. Go wild! Use as many mods as you’d like. My suggestions are linked below.
If you notice any discrepancies or find this challenge difficult, please let me know. I will be playing through it myself, however I’m open to tweaking it if needs be.
If you decide to play this challenge and post screenshots here please use the #seanchaslegacy. I’d love to see your gameplay!
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Suggested Mods:
MC Command Centre
UI Cheats
All Mods by Lumpinou
All Mods by Adeepindigo
All Mods by TwistedMexi
All Mods by Maplebell
All Mods by Plumlace
All Mods by Utopya
All Mods by Kuttoe
Wonderful Whims or Wicked Whims (18+)
Basemental Alcohol and Drugs (18+)
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Generation 1: An tEarrach Thiar
(‘Springtime In the West’ by Máirtín Ó Direáin)
You began your story as a youth who grew up in the bustling city of Ciudad Enamorada. You had an exemplary upbringing, but as vibrant, loving and warm as the townsfolk were, you couldn't help but feel a strong desire to break away from your hometown. To reconnect with nature and dwell on an island just like the poet's you've always read about. As luck would have it, an old abandoned cottage came up for sale one day on an island near the idylic lakeside village of Windenburg. And so, naturally you packed your bags and made off for a new adventure amidst the gentle quiet of the lapping lake waters. On arrival you find your new dwelling wholly inspiring. "If the walls of this cottage could talk," the auctioneer remarked as they handed you over the key. You spent the rest of that evening on your old typewriter, a family heirloom. Scribing your every thought and emotion you felt and turning them into enveloping stories and thought-provoking poems. However, your uncanny ability to see others and immerse yourself in their stories may just prove detrimental for your relationships with friends, family and lovers alike...
Aspiration: Bestselling Author
Career: Freelance Writer or Writer (Author)
Traits: Loner, Loves Outdoors & Bookworm
Goals:
Start out on the 'Mid-NoWhere' lot on the island in Windenburg with §20k simoleons to build or place an old cottage. The more rundown the better and use of live-edit and debug objects is recommended.
Visit Granite Falls at least once a year on a writing retreat and befriend the hermit.
Join the 'Avant Gardes' and schedule a meeting once a week.
Acquire the 'Outdoorsy' lifestyle.
Complete the Frogs collection.
In late young-adulthood, get married just one week after meeting your spouse.
As an adult, a rift begins to form between yourself and your spouse, as you find yourself confiding in your books more often than your partner these days. Perhaps your relationship was a 'kindling flame' rather than a 'roaring fire'. It is up to you whether you file for a divorce or try to make amends with them.
Master the Writing and Herbalism skills.
Master the career of your choice and complete the Bestselling Author aspiration.
Generation 2: An Spailpín Fánach
(‘The Wandering Labourer’ - Unknown Poet)
As much of a grá as you had for your homeland, growing up you always knew you'd have to leave. There was nothing for you on the island. You were never creative like your parents, in fact you were always quite the opposite. Fascinated by animals, particularly horses and by extension, cowboys. In school you picked up a penpal from a small, western town known as Chestnut Ridge. As a land which was renowned worldwide for its mastery in horsemanship, you just couldn't imagine yourself moving anywhere else. And so, one day, you wrote a letter to your penpal begging them to allow you to go and work on their family ranch. They accepted! And now you must graft and learn the ropes to become the town's new champion rider...
Aspiration: Championship Rider
Career: Farm Hand & Odd Job Connoisseur
Traits: Horse Lover, Rancher & Ambitious
Goals:
As a teenager, build up a friendship with your penpal from Chestnut Ridge. They may even travel to Windenburg on a school trip if you wish!
Once you reach young adulthood, move to your penpal's family farm. You will be earning §1,750 per week as a farm hand including your accomodation and food expenses for you and your horse. All other expenditure will come out of your own account. (I highly suggest using the SNB mod or recording your sims funds on a spreadsheet or piece of paper.)
You may use the bulletin board beside the riding centre to earn additional income with odd jobs.
Once per season, you must schedule a Ranch Gathering or Ranch Animal Day.
Buy a horse as soon as you can afford it and have them reach the maximum level in all four skills, (Temperament, Jumping, Agility, and Endurance.)
Complete the postcard collection.
If you wish, you may choose to eventually fall in love or become best friends with your penpal. If you choose to become lovers, your penpal's family will become furious and kick you both out of the household. Otherwise you must have a house of your own by the time you reach adulthood.
Master the Riding skill.
Complete the Championship Rider aspiration.
Generation 3: An Chailleach Bhéara
(‘The Hag of Beara’, Folklore Tale - Various Authors)
Growing up in a small town was never going to be easy. It must be exhausting trying that hard to live in the pockets of others. Either you toed the line and worked the land or you were treated like an outcast. As someone with an intrigue for the art of magic and a flair for flower arranging, you were exiled from society, spat at by some and avoided entirely by others. One day, whilst in high school the local bully decided it was your turn to be picked on. Let's just say they picked on the wrong pissed off lad that day! You stared at the bully in anger and frustration and all of a sudden, the fence they were leaning on snapped, sending them into a pile of horse dung on the far side! Scared witless and confused, all you could do was make haste, for a land that was said to be full of 'strange' individuals like yourself known as Glimmerbrook. You had nearly arrived at your destination when you stumbled upon an overgrown archway in the evergreen woods. The stench of pine was almost insufferable, however it soon became evident that this was no ordinary woods nor ordinary archway, it appeared to be calling your name, and so you put your hand forth into the abyss only to find it was a portal... Mages! Potions! Wands! You have dreamt of this day since you were a child. Now is your chance to prove them all wrong back home and become the great spellcaster you were always destined to be!
Aspiration: Spellcraft and Sorcery or Purveyor of Potions
Career: Gardener (Florist)
Traits: Hot-Headed, Vegetarian & Socially Awkward (Change for Wise as an Elder)
Goals:
In the latter stages of teenagehood, run away from home and move into an empty lot of your choice in Glimmerbrook.
Enter the portal in the woods and become a spellcaster.
Adopt a black cat as your familiar.
Complete the Magical Artefacts collection.
Build a greenhouse and fill it with magical flowers and plants.
Befriend all three sages.
Reach the 'Virtuoso' rank as a spellcaster.
Fall in love with a human, have one child with them and marry them as an elder.
Master the Flower Arranging skill.
Master the Florist career and complete the aspiration of your choice.
Generation 4: Mise Éire
(‘I am Ireland’ by Pádraic Mac Piarais)
You have always had great time for the literary geniuses of our past. Moreover a great appreciation for the various languages and by extension, cultures which define each and every one of us. Your mortal parent always spoke fondly of their hometown, Copperdale, and one day you realised that’s it! That is where I see my future! Learning about my nation's past, its language and songs. Then spreading your knowledge and giving an inspiring education to its youth. And so as a young adult you set off for the historic university town of Britechester, where you hoped to earn a distinguished degree in Language and Literature. Here you meet some of your best friends, worst enemies and ultimately your soulmate. Later on in life as a teacher you naturally hold your spouse, as well as your own children to incredibly high standards, a fatal flaw which could cost you your relationship with them…
Aspiration: Academic
Career: Education (Professor)
Traits: Perfectionist, Snob & Overachiever
Goals:
As a young adult, attend the University of Britechester and study Language and Literature.
Join the Secret Society.
Host a gold rated keg party whilst at university.
Achieve all A’s and B’s in your final University grades.
Meet three good friends, one arch nemesis and your future spouse whilst at university.
Foster a ‘Strict’ family dynamic with your children. Whether your relationship with them worsens or improves with time is up to you…
Master the Logic and Research & Debate skills.
Master the Education career and complete the Academic aspiration.
Generation 5: Géibheann
(‘Captivity’ by Caitlín Maude)
If you were to sum up your childhood in one word it would be… torturous. With unrealistic expectations, constant criticism and an overall genuine fear of your parents, you nearly left your dreams for dusk. Nearly did, but not quite. Instead of becoming a doctor as your parents always hoped, you decided you’d be better fit to look after four-legged patients instead. And so, you set off to the seaside town of Brindleton Bay, known for its remarkable advances in animal care. Whilst there you will live with your elderly grandmother who for many years has taken care of the town’s lighthouse. She was so chuffed to hear of your coming that she built a wee shed at the back of her home for you to open your first veterinary practice. It’s a real shame that those back home were never this supportive. Escaping was the only way, you keep telling yourself. I suppose the salt air will do you good if nothing else…
Aspiration: Friend of the Animals
Career: Veterinarian
Traits: Animal Lover, Gloomy & Loyal
Goals:
Once you reach young adulthood, move in with your grandmother who resides in Brindleton Bay.
Open your first practice in the back garden before relocating to a new lot once you reach a 3 star rating.
Become best friends with your grandmother and take her out for lunch once a week because she deserves it!
Have the clinic reach 5 stars.
Adopt at least one stray dog and one stray cat.
Have at least one pet master all the tricks that can be learned.
Complete the feathers collection.
Meet your future spouse at the clinic, cliché I know, but their dog was class…
Become good friends with all your children. You don’t want a repeat of the relationship you had with your own parents…
Master the Veterinary and Pet Training skills.
Complete the Friend of the Animals aspiration.
Generation 6: Cú Chulainn
(Folklore Tale - Various Authors)
You always loved helping out in the clinic at home. But you had a particular grá for dogs, especially the wilder ones. Werewolves always peaked your interest, with their ferocious howls and bloodthirsty stares. It was always rumoured that a pack of werewolves roamed around the woods of Moonwood Mill, so naturally you had to go and discover the truth for yourself. Whilst wandering the dark forests, you came across a rather rundown homestead with a sign outside stating ‘BEWARE OF GREG’. But who is Greg? You soon found out and let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. The day after your encounter you can’t help but shake this ravenous feeling, you just can’t keep yourself full, then the intense hair growth started. One night, as the moon rose in the eastern sky, your change was completed… Your legs grew until it was as if you were on stilts and your ears pointed like spears. Was this really happening or is it just a bad dream? I suppose all one can do now is embrace the fury…
Aspiration: Werewolf Initiate (Followed by any one of the four branches of your choice)
Career: Jeweller
Traits: Dog Lover, Erratic & Glutton
Goals:
Move to Moonwood Mill and pay Greg a visit to initiate the werewolf transformation process.
Complete the Moonwood Relics collection.
Join the werewolf pack associated with your aspiration branch and reach the ‘Alpha’ rank.
Make money through jewellery crafting and fishing.
Go on a family fishing trip to a world of your choosing once per week. It can be on vacation or just as a day trip.
Adopt two child or teenage werewolves, (these may be created in CAS), however your heir must be a human related by blood.
Master the Gemology and Fishing skills.
Complete the aspiration of your choice.
Generation 7: Dís
(‘Couple’ by Siobhán Ní Shúilleabháin)
You grew up idolising the wolf pack, despite not being a wolf yourself. Yet when the time came you knew you’d have to leave. Becoming a singer has always been the dream, werewolves make very excellent musicians believe it or not! You spent your teenage days with your best friend, a fellow mortal, writing songs and performing them live at the Grimtooth Bar & Bunker. So on your 18th birthday, you and your best friend made for the big city of San Myshuno to fulfil your dreams of becoming musicians. As the years go by, your fame grows. You meet the love of your life and leave your best friend for dusk. Then the morning of your wedding, you wake to see a closeup of your partner caressing another in a tabloid! Heartbroken, you leave your partner at the altar and make a B-line for your ex-best friend’s apartment in the spice district, but will they be able to find it in their heart to forgive you? I hope so. The baby has to sleep somewhere…
Aspiration: Musical Genius
Career: Entertainer (Musician)
Traits: Music Lover, Insider & Lovebug
Goals:
Once you reach young-adulthood, move to San Myshuno with your best friend.
Attend all festival invites.
Hold a karaoke night once a fortnight with your friends.
Go busking in the city with your best friend to earn some extra simoleons.
Reach fame level 5 and win a starlight accolade.
Complete the poster collection.
Meet your partner (a music producer) whilst busking in the city, you fall madly in love and move in with them the following week.
Leave them at the altar after you find out about their infidelity.
Move back in with your best friend following your breakup, only to find out you or your ex is pregnant!
Master the Piano and Guitar skills and reach level 5 of the Singing skill.
Master the Entertainer career and complete the Musical Genius aspiration.
Generation 8: Hurlamaboc
(‘Commotion’ by Éilís Ní Dhuibhne’)
Your upbringing was about as far from normal as you could get. Let’s just say the limelight of your parents shone a bit too brightly for your liking. On top of that they fought constantly and were always spiteful of each other. They never told you why. Instead you found out by means of someone plastering that cheating picture all over your school locker! Yikes… And so you sought to give your family a perfectly ordinary upbringing. In the perfect suburban town of San Sequoia, with a childhood full of love, hugs and who could forget the packed lunches? Certainly not you! Especially with your new pizza and waffle makers! However as time passes you find that helicopter parenting is perhaps not always a good thing. With a partner (your high-school sweetheart) that is so laid back that they’re only short of falling over half the time, can you put manners on your spoiled children before it’s too late or will parenthood get all too much for you…
Aspiration: Super Parent and/or Home Chef Hustler
Career: Home Chef
Traits: Family Orientated, Jealous & Foodie
Goals:
Marry your high-school sweetheart and move into a small home in San Sequoia. Grow the house slowly overtime so it fits your ever-growing family!
Complete the MySims collection (you can start collecting them as a teen).
Host a yard sale three times per week where you will sell your baked goods to earn some simoleons.
Host a gold rated dinner party with all your neighbours and closest friends.
Have at least three children.
Your heir must grow up with all their character traits maxed out.
Have a stay over once a month. It can be with your family or your children’s friends.
Build a treehouse for your kids to hang out in.
Once your eldest child becomes a teenager, have them start rebelling (you can go wild and use Basemental if you wish), it is up to you whether your sim can calm their child or if they will spiral out of control.
Master the Cooking and Parenting skills.
Complete the aspiration of your choice.
Generation 9: An Gnáthrud
(‘The Usual Thing by Cathal Ó Searcaigh’)
You got the perfect upbringing. Your creativity was allowed to shine and your parents loved every inch of you. You always had great plans of going to Britechester and studying Art History, that was until news came out of your uncle’s mysterious disappearance. He left his farm in Henford-On-Bagley to your parents, however the pain of his passing was all too much for them to bear. You didn’t want to go, but your uncle was always so good to you as a kid that you felt you must go and investigate his sudden death instead. On arrival all the villagers seem friendly. The Watson’s do seem a bit suspicious though, and why are the Crumplebottoms looking at me like that? It is up to you to restore your uncle’s farm and uncover the truth about his disappearance…
Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire (Switch for Country Caretaker once you move.)
Career: Farmer and Freelance Artist
Traits: Art Lover, Paranoid & Squeamish (All Parenthood Reward Traits also.)
Goals:
As a child, complete the Creative Genius aspiration.
Once you become a young adult, move to your uncle’s farm in Henford-On-Bagley. It must have the ‘Simple Living’ and ‘Wild Foxes’ lot challenges.
Win at least once in each category at Finchwick Fair and complete the Village Fair Ribbons collection.
You must have at least one chicken, one cow and one llama at all times.
Befriend wild birds and bunnies, these will act as your spies (just kidding).
Run at least one errand for every townie in Henford as a means of getting to know them and gaining their trust.
Option 1 - The Watson’s poisoned your uncle as he refused to sell them his farm. You find out through a bundle of old solicitors letters from the Watsons threatening legal action if your uncle refused to sell up. You bring your evidence to the police and upon further investigation the head of the family is found guilty of your uncle’s murder and is jailed for life.
Option 2 - Your uncle was eaten by the cowplant in the garden (a classic I know). You find out one day when you forget to feed your cowplant and be dies revealing your uncle’s remains!
Master the Painting and Gardening skills.
Once you find out the truth about your uncle you may choose to sell the farm, move into a small tigín with your family and resume the Painter Extraordinaire aspiration or stay on the farm and complete the Country Caretaker aspiration.
In either case you must complete the second level of both aspirations and complete at least one.
Generation 10: Tír na nÓg
(‘The Land of Youth’, Folklore Tale - Various Authors)
Growing up in a well-to-do, tight knit village, people were often nasty and spewed uncensored opinions when it came to keeping up appearances. As a teenager this took a serious toll on you. Beauty and skincare became a ritual. You got up at 6am most mornings to go for a run out of fear that people may call you ‘unfit’ or ‘undesirable’. One morning, whilst out on your morning run, you meet two dark figures. They greet you with kind waves and one of the figures asks you why you’re jogging at such an ungodly hour. Without thinking you tell them your every insecurity. The pair laugh and offer to take you to a place which was said to offer eternal youth and beauty to its inhabitants. A land known as Forgotten Hollow. You jump at the opportunity and follow the pair back to their homestead. A large haunting estate greets you on arrival and before you know it, you feel a pair of sharp, dagger-like objects sinking into the side of your neck. Teeth!! Before you know it, you drift into a deep slumber. On awakening you rub your eyes to see the same two figures you saw in the woods, except this time, one of the figures appears to be holding a pouch filled with a red substance. Blood? Your lips begin to tremble as they approach. So… thirsty... For the first time you look around and find that you’re sitting in a coffin! “Caleb”, one of the figures remarks as he hands you the pouch. You shake his hand. “And this is my sister, Lillith”, she gazes at you, and to your shock horror two large fangs emerge from her dazzling smile. “It’s so lovely to have company” she spits out. And so began your journey as a vampire, whether you can escape the grasp of the twins or decide to stay and marvel in your newfound beauty and power is entirely up to you…
Aspiration: Master Vampire (Linked to Option 1) or Good Vampire (Linked to Option 2).
Career: None (Linked to Option 1) or Paranormal Investigator (Option 2)
Traits: Self Absorbed, High Maintenance & Evil (Linked to Option 1) or Good (Linked to Option 2)
Goals:
As a teenager, wake up at 6am three mornings per week to go for a jog.
Whilst out on your jog one morning, summon Lillith and Caleb to the lot (using MCC) and follow them back to their manor in Forgotten Hollow.
Whilst there, get bitten and move into the Vatore household.
Option 1: When you age up into a young adult, your thirst for blood envelops your every thought and feeling. You want to become a Master Vampire with the help of Caleb and Lillith.
Option 2: After two sim weeks, one night, whilst hunting the Bramblewood for victims, you stumble across a family member. They convince you to come home. Your family gives you a sum of money and you run away to Willow Creek to pursue a career as a Paranormal Investigator.
Option 1: You marry one of the Vatore twins. Jealousy grows between the twins until one day, Lillith locks Caleb outside, causing him to burn to death!
Option 2: You fall in love with a member of the Goth prodigy (note all original Goth family members will be 10 feet under by this stage) whilst cleansing their mansion. You convert them and the two of you live happily for the rest of eternity raising a family of vampires.
Master the Vampire Lore and Pipe Organ (Option 1) or Medium (Option 2) skills.
If you choose Option 1 master the Paranormal Investigator career and complete the aspiration of your choice.
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#simblr#sims 4#the sims 4#ts4#ts4 simblr#ts4legacychallenge#seanchaslegacy#sims 4 legacy#sims 4 gameplay
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Top 12 Edgar Allan Poe Stories
October has come ‘round, everyone! Usually I have some kind of big Event for this month, but this year, I decided to take things a bit easy on myself and instead do a bunch of single-post lists throughout the month, which are thematically tied to the time of Halloween in some form or another. With that in mind, we’ll kick this month off with a tribute to my favorite author: that Master of the Macabre, Edgar Allan Poe. Poe was the quintessential “tortured artist.” His life story is a tragic and strange one, just as dark and filled with despair as many of the things he wrote. But for all of its pitfalls and distressing points, there was more to the man than doom and gloom: his writing reflects that, as Poe not only was and still is considered the master of the Gothic horror story, but also was a gifted romantic poet, and even wrote many pieces of humorous satire. One of his greatest contributions to literature was the invention of the modern detective story! Works like “The Phantom of the Opera” and characters like “Sherlock Holmes” simply would not exist if it hadn’t been for the prose and poetry of Edgar Allan Poe. Ever since I was young - perhaps too young to fully appreciate the intricacies of his work - I’ve always admired and adored this writer, and so I figured now was as good a time as any to show my appreciation for all this fellow gave to the world of literature. Most of the stories on this countdown will be Poe’s classic horror stories, but there will be some other pieces as well. I WON’T be including any of his poems, however; I’m saving a separate, shorter list for those. With that said, let’s waste time nevermore! These are My Top 12 Stories from Edgar Allan Poe.
12. Descent Into the Maelstrom.
Many people credit Poe for the invention of the modern detective story, which is true and good. However, there’s one thing I think people could credit Poe for creating that has yet to be officially stated as his invention: the creation of what might be called modern “Survival Horror.” These are stories where the fear comes from the protagonist being thrown into a perilous situation, and the audience - usually in the role of said protagonist - just has to go through it and survive, plain and simple. The horror comes from the helplessness of the situation, and the desperate urge to escape, combined with the perspective being done in such a way that the readers (or viewers, or players, depending on the medium) are the ones who are put through it. “Descent Into the Maelstrom” can sort of be seen as a precursor to this style. It is a story within in a story, told largely from the perspective of a fisherman, who relates to a young friend about how he survived an encounter his ship had with a monstrous whirlpool, out in the open sea. It’s revealed that the sailor’s experience was so shocking, it has turned his hair white and made him appear older than he really is. There’s not much else to the story beyond that, but that’s really all it needs: while we know the fisherman obviously survived, the tension remains as we wait to see how he did it, and learn just how close to his own end he nearly got.
11. Never Bet the Devil Your Head.
Like I said, Poe didn’t just write gruesome tales of the macabre and morbid. He also had a sense of humor, and wrote several works of satirical comedy. “Never Bet the Devil Your Head” is my favorite of his comedic works, partially because it is one of his darkest satires; it’s one of a few stories that feel almost like he’s spoofing himself, in some ways, and strangely reminds me of the work of another great author I love, Washington Irving. (Whether this was intentional or not is anybody’s guess.) The story spoofs the idea that all good short tales should teach some kind of moral lesson, as it begins with the Narrator expressing frustration at the fact his critics have judged him for apparently not including a moral in any past works. He thus relates the tale of a friend of his, Toby Dammit. (Yes, you may laugh at that name as much as you like.) Toby is a man who likes to make rhetorical bets, and is particularly fond of declaring, “I’ll bet the Devil my head!” whenever he does so. One day, the Devil himself comes calling, as he stops Toby and the Narrator at a bridge. Toby, not recognizing Old Scratch, makes the rhetorical bet he always does, claiming he can leap over a turnstile in the center of the bridge. The man makes the jump…and has his head lopped off by a hidden blade (“what might be termed a serious injury,” Poe writes), which the Devil then carries off. As a final indignity, after the bill for Toby’s funeral expenses are paid, the Narrator is forced to have his old friend dug up and turned into dog food. This story is as ludicrous as it is morbid, and while the satire is not by any means subtle, it is pretty funny. It’s the only direct comedy tale of Poe’s on this countdown, and not without good reason.
10. The Black Cat.
Many consider this one of Poe’s most noteworthy masterworks. While it doesn’t sit as high for me as some of his other stories - it feels a bit too similar to some other works of his that came both before and after it, which I feel did the concepts involved much greater justice, personally - I do still very much enjoy this story. The tale is told from the perspective of a murderer, awaiting his date with the executioner. The killer relates the details of his ghastly crime, which began when he murdered a black cat that he and his wife once owned, named Pluto. Sometime later, a second black cat came into their lives, which the killer believed was the reincarnation of the first pet, and feared. One day, when trying to kill this second feline with an axe, the narrator accidentally murders his wife in the process. To cover up this heinous deed, he attempted to brick her up behind a false wall in the cellar…but needless to say, things didn’t exactly go the way he expected, once the police showed up. Extraordinarily brutal and highly disturbing, “The Black Cat” is one of Poe’s most ambiguous and unsettling stories, and deserves all the recognition it has garnered over time.
9. Murders in the Rue Morgue.
I have said a couple of times now that Poe is credited with inventing the modern detective story. Poe referred to these tales as “studies in ratiocination;” he treated them more like essays than typical pieces of literature, where the focus was on showing the power of deductive logic in an otherwise inexplicable situation. There were three primary stories in this bunch, two of which are on this countdown. “Murders in the Rue Morgue” was the first and arguably the most well-known and beloved of the bunch, as it combines the elements of a classic piece of what we now recognize as detective fiction, with the trappings of Gothic horror and an almost satirical absurdity, which are so uniquely Poe. The story focuses on gentleman sleuth C. Auguste Dupin, who is called upon to solve a mysterious slew of hideously brutal slayings in Paris. The solution to the crime - SPOILER ALERT - turns out to be that the killings were the work of a sailor’s wayward pet orangutan, who accidentally killed the victims while attempting to shave their faces, the way it saw its owner do numerous times. I love how the solution to this crime is honestly kind of hilarious (in a very twisted way, mind you), as well as totally bonkers, yet the story goes out of its way to make such an utterly insane answer sound surprisingly plausible. You can easily see where future great writers of murder mysteries and sleuth stories, such as Arthur Conan Doyle and G.K. Chesterton, might have taken inspiration. It was a great start to a great genre, and is more than deserving of recognition for that fact.
8. The Pit and the Pendulum.
Yet another example of Poe arguably inventing the “Survival Horror” genre, and honestly, this is probably the very best said example one could have. Once again told from the point of view of the narrator (as most of Poe’s stories were), this tale recounts the experiences of a poor prisoner, being tormented by the Spanish Inquisition. He relates all the ways he was physically and mentally tormented by the Inquisitors, and his cunning attempts to escape his captors. The most notable examples of his torture are a seemingly bottomless pit in the center of his cell, and then later, being stuck under…(pauses)... “Oh. Look. There’s the pendulum of doom! What’s the pendulum of doom doing there?! I did not order the pendulum of doom! It’s overkill! Get rrrrid of it!” (Ahem…sorry, I freaking love that line. XD ) In all seriousness, I can’t recall if the “Pendulum of Doom” concept ever even existed before Poe wrote this story; to my knowledge, it wasn’t a real method of torture/execution, and I can’t remember it being brought up in fiction before this. So, if nothing else, Poe created the original supervillain death trap, and showed just how scary it could be in the process. Doesn’t that earn placement in the Top 10, if nothing else? I thought as much.
7. Hop-Frog.
“Hop-Frog” was Poe’s final story, but you probably wouldn’t guess it from reading this violent tale of vengeance. The story - for once NOT told by an unnamed narrator - focuses on a wicked king and his courtiers, who delight in mocking and abusing their servants. Most notable among their victims are the King’s jester, a hunchbacked dwarf named Hop-Frog, and a dancer by the name of Trippetta, whom Hop-Frog is in love with. The King and his cabinet are fans of practical jokes, so, one day, Hop-Frog offers them an idea for a prank: the King is to host a masquerade ball, and he and his friends are to dress as a horde of orangutans (wow, Poe really liked those, didn’t he?), to scare the other partygoers. The King and his cronies take the jester’s advice, thus falling for Hop-Frog’s trap: the harlequin gives them costumes made out of flammable materials, and, as part of the prank, chains them up and hangs them like a chandelier over the assembled partygoers…before setting them all on fire. As they are burned alive before the horrified revelers, Hop-Frog escapes with Trippetta, pronouncing his vengeance with the words: “this is my last jest!” There is great irony in the fact that Poe probably had no idea this last great declamation against cruelty and prejudice, with a side of Gothic chills, would, indeed, be his last great jest.
6. The Purloined Letter.
This was the third of Poe’s C. Auguste Dupin mystery tales, and it’s the second of the two I mentioned would be on this list. While “Murders in the Rue Morgue” is certainly the most iconic of these tales, I actually think this story is even better. It lacks the sense of Gothic horror and slightly satirical humor the first story has, but it makes up for it by being…well…a darn good detective story! Dupin is called upon for help by the local Prefect of Police, referred to simply as “G.” G wants Dupin to recover a stolen letter, filled with incriminating information, belonging to none other than the Queen of France herself. The police know who is responsible for the theft - an unscrupulous minister simply referred to as “Minister D.” who is using it to blackmail Her Majesty. The problem is that they can’t seem to find the evidence to convict him, nor the incriminating document, even after searching the man’s house. SPOILER ALERT: Dupin later reveals that the letter was in plain view all along. Minister D. had presumed that G. would be searching high and low, so he hid the letter by making it simply seem like junk lingering around in the room, instead of tucking it into some super-secret hiding place. Dupin simply arranged a distraction to make sure Minister D. wasn’t looking, then switched the incriminating letter with a phony, before giving the document to the police. Simple but utterly brilliant; definitely one of the best detective stories ever made, in my books, as well as one of the first.
5. The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar.
This is arguably the single most gory and explicitly grotesque of all of Poe’s stories, as well as one of the most unnerving. I can’t help but feel this particular tale had to be an influence on later writers, most notably H.P. Lovecraft, for its combination of surreal, nightmarish, and viscerally deplorable elements. It’s also one that taps into some primal fears and questions, regarding the eternal mystery of what really separates life from death: a concept that forever fascinated Poe in his works. The story tells of M. Valdemar, an old man who agrees to allow a friend of his - an expert in hypnosis - to induce a state of hypnotic slumber on him while on his deathbed. Valdemar dies while under the hypnotic influence - unnervingly, he is able to speak to the investigators, even after he is dead - but as long as the hypnosis is left in place, his body remains totally intact, as if he is arrested in a state of suspended animation. It is hinted that until his soul is allowed to pass on, his body cannot pass, either. After conducting several experiments on the man, the hypnotist and his colleagues attempt to wake M. Valdemar…and - this is the disgusting part - the man suddenly rots away and decomposes in a matter of seconds before their eyes, literally falling apart at the seams and being reduced to a gory mass of decaying flesh. So gross, so unsettling, and so utterly, utterly horrific…I LOVE IT.
4. Fall of the House of Usher.
This is one of Poe’s earliest horror stories, and it’s widely considered to be the first truly great piece of Gothic literature he ever wrote; other stories before this, such as “Ligeia” and “MS. in a Bottle" do have their values, but “Fall of the House of Usher” is widely regarded as the first actual masterpiece Poe wrote. It is a story that has been adapted and reimagined countless times, and is widely considered one of the author’s most definitive pieces of work. The story focuses on - you guessed it - an unnamed Narrator, who goes to spend some time with a childhood friend, Roderick Usher, as well as Roderick’s beloved sister, Madeline. The Ushers live in a dilapidated mansion, situated on a tiny island in the middle of a murky lake, perpetually surrounded by long-dead trees. Roderick claims to suffer from a medical condition that heightens all of his senses to an alarming rate, while his sister spends much of her time in bed, fighting a terminal illness. The events that occur inside the spooky old mansion will forever traumatize the Narrator, and leave both Roderick and Madeline dead. This is one of Poe’s longest and most complex stories, plot-wise, so I don’t want to give too much away. Suffice it to say, this story has a lot of the hallmarks of later Poe pieces: the themes, motifs, and phobias present are among the most frequently visited in his works following this one, and one could easily make the argument that the House of Usher itself was the inspiration for many a famous haunted house and haunted house story in more modern times. I actually like this story more today than I probably did when I was younger, and it has more than earned its place in my personal top five.
3. The Cask of Amontillado.
This was one of the first pieces by Poe I ever read, and it remains one of my favorites. Once again, our Narrator is a killer, only this time he’s actually given a name: Montresor. It’s indicated that Montresor is a nobleman who lives in Italy, and he has vowed to gain revenge (for reasons that are never made entirely clear) against a former friend of his: a wine-loving gourmet by the ironic name of Fortunato. One night, during Carnival time, Montresor entices Fortunato into a wine cellar with the promise of tasting a rare vintage of amontillado. Montresor claims he wants Fortunato to assure him of the beverage’s authenticity. Once there, he shackles a stupefied Fortunato into a shallow alcove, and proceeds to brick up the place, effectively burying Fortunato alive. The murder plot and the way it is carried out are deeply disturbing, but perhaps the thing that makes the story so particularly fascinating is Montresor himself: Poe leaves some subtle implications of what might be at the heart of this feud that has turned so deadly, but he never gives a clear answer as to why Montresor is not only so intent on revenge, but on using such an extreme method as immurement for his vengeance. It invites the the reader to play detective themselves, in a way, pondering the circumstances around the crime, even as the confession is laid before us.
2. Masque of the Red Death.
In many of Poe’s stories that involve supernatural elements, it’s left ambiguous how much of them are real or imagined. This is not the case with “Masque of the Red Death,” and if that’s not unnerving enough, the actual subject matter of the story will be. To a greatly unsettling degree, this story is arguably more powerful today than it’s ever been. Unlike so many other Poe tales, this one is written in the third person (much like “Hop-Frog”), and tells the legend of a horrible plague that swept across a far-off kingdom. This plague was called The Red Death: it caused its victims to sweat blood, and killed within half an hour. To try and escape the scourge, the “dauntless and sagacious” Prince Prospero has himself, his courtiers, and many of his fellow royals and noblemen take refuge in his castle, where they party and cavort, even as the populace beyond the palace walls are left to die from the epidemic. One night, while holding a masquerade ball, however, the Prince and his allies are visited by a mysterious stranger, who is ultimately revealed to be the Red Death itself. You can probably guess how things go from there. The story is a cautionary tale against the inevitability of death, and how no matter what one tries to do, no one - however smart, rich, or powerful they may be - can truly escape it forever. Haunting and unsettlingly truthful, it is easily one of Poe’s most iconic pieces.
1. The Tell-Tale Heart.
Believe it or not, I first learned of this story because of - out of all things - an episode of Spongebob Squarepants. No, that is not a joke: there’s an episode of Spongebob that directly spoofs this short story. Naturally, of course, I prefer the original, but I figured that was worth sharing for the amusement of it. ANYWAY… “The Tell-Tale Heart” is considered one of Poe’s darkest and most delightfully ambiguous pieces (and that’s saying a lot), and for good reason. Once again, our unnamed Narrator is the protagonist…and also, much like in “Cask of Amontillado” or “The Black Cat,” they’re a murderer. However, the killer has a specific agenda in this case: he’s trying to prove that he ISN’T insane. How does he do this? By telling the reader the story of how he murdered and the dismembered a helpless old man that he cared about (it’s left unsure if they are his father, his employer, or something/someone else), because the old man had a weird eye that gave him the heebie-jeebies. (pauses) Yeah. Great way of professing your own sanity there, big shot. In all seriousness, though, that’s the brilliance of Poe’s story: as the tale goes on, it becomes clearer and clearer to the reader that the protagonist is absolutely out of their mind…and that makes the big event - when he swears he hears his mutilated victim’s heart beating under the floorboards - all the more ambiguous. We can reasonably presume it’s a hallucination, but it’s not directly stated to be so. There’s also the possibility it’s a manifestation of his guilty conscience. On another note, just like Roderick Usher, this narrator claims to once again have heightened senses; could he be hearing something else and making a mistake? Or perhaps…just perhaps…it’s the old man’s ghostly specter, haunting him and forcing him to admit to his crime? None of these answers would be out of the realm of possibility where Poe is involved, and all of them are interesting to ponder. However you read into it, “The Tell-Tale Heart” is a gripping and profoundly troubling tale of madness, murder, and many strange, unanswered questions…in other words, all the things that make this author’s work in the fields of horror and crime so renowned. It is no surprise this takes the cake as My Favorite of the Works by Edgar Allan Poe.
HONORABLE MENTIONS INCLUDE…
Morella.
The Gold-Bug.
The Oblong Box.
The Premature Burial.
#list#countdown#best#favorites#top 12#stories#literature#short stories#edgar allan poe#halloween#horror#mystery
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CALLING ALL PRESTON GOODPLAY LOVERS (aka me)
IM MAKING A PLAYLIST
FOR THE ONE AN ONLY 😌
AND I NEED SONGS THAT REMIND YOU OF HIM. WHETHER THAT BE DIFFERENT STAGES OF HIS LIFE (canon or headcanon) OR YKNOW JUST WHATEVER GIVES YOU THE ✨VIBES✨
I’D LOVE SOME OUTSIDE OPINIONS ON THIS
HERE’S THE SONGS I ALREADY HAVE IN ORDER:
Introduction to the Snow - Miracle Musical (gives me the ✨vibes✨)
Look Who’s Inside Again - Bo Burnham (Think it would describe his childhood. At least a part of it)
Am I Supposed To Apologize? - Maria Mena (It’s %90 percent here because of a few short lyrics that would imply him discovering his love of theater. The other %10 is because I have a headcanon he’s a child of divorce parents.)
My Play - AJR (C’mon man it seems pretty self explanatory if you’ve listened to it. Plus it adds onto the divorced parents theory)
The Main Character - Will Wood (It’s literally him. C’mon man. The vibes. Also you cannot tell me he wouldn’t be a huge Will Wood fan.)
Hard to Be the Bard - Something Rotten! (He’s a writer✨ An artist✨ It can’t possibly be easy 😔)
Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos (Now this one is more the Performance Trio as a whole but still. Preston is the poet, obviously 😌 while Nerris is the soldier and Harrison is the ruler.)
I/Me/Myself - Will Wood (Because he's just so ✨gender✨ Plus if you headcanon him as gender-fluid it makes this even better.)
Oh No! - Marina & The Diamonds (A desire to succeed. To make it big in this world. He knows what he wants and he won’t stop at nothing to get it. He definitely has a fear of failure. And who’s to say he doesn’t feel like he’s the worst? He already acts like he’s the best. Who’s to say that’s not a cover up?)
Everybody Loves Me - OneRepublic (Consider this the beginning of Preston Goodplay’s Good Play. He finally has a performance piece that people seem to like. He’s finally getting the love and attention he so deserves 😌 But at what cost?)
Non-Stop - Hamilton (Turns out his new performance is the only thing people seem to want. So why not just keep writing up new ideas for it? Sure he’ll eventually run out. But right now’s not eventually! He’ll just have to keep coming up with new ideas for it! Thing is it’s getting a lot more stressful than he intended.)
Left Brain, Right Brain - Bo Burnham (Oh Y’know just that one scene where he’s arguing with his own fucking reflection. Unsure whether he should sell out and give the people what they want, or follow what he wants with the risk that no one would like it.)
Show & Tell - Melanie Martínez (Ok this is getting ridiculous. They’ve started showing up to his practices and commenting on HIS writing process. It’s overwhelming. But what can he do about it? They’re his target audience. Well his only audience but still-)
Everyone is Dumb - Mazie x Everybody Likes You - Lemon Demon (Seems self explanatory. Everyone actually pays attention to him now. They’re excited for his performances. Everyone likes him. But they’re also stupid. It’s a stupidly simple performance that’s virtually the same every time. Yet they never get tired of it. Yes they like him, but is it worth it if this is the reason they like him.)
Shine A Light (Reprise) - Heathers (Oh y’know just the silly little nightmare he has :,D And then the hallucinations of his own reflection laughing at him. Plus him pulling out that prop knife uh- was he just being dramatic or??? Like he did have a bit of a psychotic break, man’s was hallucinating. How do we know he didn’t think the knife was real? Like was he actually trying to- y’know? Seriously is he ok-??)
Are You Satisfied - Marina & The Diamonds (He talks to David for a bit. And something’s called to question. Is he satisfied with this? He’s worried about his future yes, but then again what’s the point of making art if he doesn’t actually like it himself. It’s pointless. And he realizes no one else should get a say in what he wants to create. It’s his problem. No one else’s.)
Drama Club - Melanie Martinez (Honestly just doesn’t give a shit about anyone’s opinions anymore and that’s kind of a good thing. Even if they hate it. “Any reaction, positive or negative, is still a reaction :D” As tomatoes are pelted towards him. Honestly a healthier mentality than he had before. And I think that’s the end of the Preston Goodplay’s Good Play section of the playlist!)
Recess - Melanie Martinez (I’m here for Preston’s grandmother raising him and teaching him everything she knows 🗣️🗣️🗣️ Stg every lyric fucking fits. Also I think this could apply to his new mentality of “Fuck you it’s my art not yours I do what I want.” A nice little summary to the fiasco that is Preston Goodplay’s Good play.)
Mirror Man - Jack Stauber’s Opal (Mostly just gives me Preston vibes. His desire to become famous and what not.)
Art Is Dead - Bo Burnham (Vibesss man. “I am an artist, please god forgive me. I am an artist, please don't revere me. I am an artist, please don't respect me I am an artist, you're free to correct me. A self-centered artist. Self-obsessed artist. I am an artist. I am an artist. But I'm just a kid. I'm just a kid. I'm just a kid, kid. And maybe I'II grow out of it”)
Finale (Can’t Wait To See What You Do Next) - AJR (Honestly just thought it’d be cool to have the last song in the playlist be called Finale 💀 But I think it’s a nice little summary of his character. A final bow if you will 😌)
Anyways that’s about it. If anyone else has suggestions or input on the songs already here feel free to! Hell if you happen to disagree with anything feel free to. I love discussions about things I like :D Also feel free to suggest songs that you think I should add 😌 Gonna go pass out now baiiii
#preston goodplay#camp camp preston#cc preston#cc preston goodplay#Camp camp#camp camp headcanons#theater kid#i fucking kin this mf wtf#Tw implied sewerslide#Preston Goodplay’s Good Play#Playlist#character playlist#Precious theater boy✨#Gonna go pass out now brb#i’m going insane
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By: Eva Kurilova
Published: Jan 15, 2024
In 1943, C.S. Lewis delivered a series of lectures at King’s College that warned about the erosion of moral values and the rise of relativism, which he believed would lead to humanity’s ruin. These thought-provoking lectures were later compiled into The Abolition of Man, a book that has since been acknowledged as one of the most significant and influential works of the 20th century.
Today, I believe society has reached the very crossroads Lewis forewarned—an era of subjectivism where concepts of “right” and “wrong” have lost their objective anchor and are instead dictated by personal whims and desires. A striking manifestation of this shift is evident in the construction of an oppression hierarchy. This hierarchy asserts that moral judgements in any given situation is not determined by external, consistent values for judging behavior, but rather by the fluctuating perceptions of who is deemed “privileged” and who is deemed “oppressed.”
In his lectures, Lewis emphasized the importance of universal virtues in guiding our morality. He referred to these virtues, which he believed to be found universally across humanity, as the “Tao.” Originating from Chinese philosophy, the Tao represents a way of life in harmony with the world. Discerning the right way to live, according to Lewis, requires wisdom and character. He describes the Tao as “the doctrine of objective value, the belief that certain attitudes are really true, and others really false, to the kind of thing the universe is and the kind of things we are.”
Regrettably, Lewis observed a decline in such wisdom and integrity among the youth of his era, leading to what he termed “men without chests”—individuals devoid of honor and virtue. His critique was not about dictating the specifics of what is “right,” “moral,” and “good.” Rather, Lewis lamented that we have lost any sense that the right, moral, and good exist at all, writing: “Until quite modern times all teachers and even all men believed the universe to be such that certain emotional reactions on our part could be either congruous or incongruous to it.”
To illustrate his point, Lewis began his first lecture with an anecdote about the English poet Samuel Coleridge. Coleridge was once gazing at his favorite waterfall when two tourists came along, one calling the waterfall “sublime” and the other as merely “pretty.” Coleridge approved the former judgment and rejected the latter.
Lewis’ intention was not to dictate perceptions of waterfalls. His concern was that, when the story was referenced in a “little book on English” for schoolchildren that he called The Green Book, the authors declared that the tourist who called the waterfall “sublime” was merely making a statement about his own feelings. This, according to Lewis, exemplified a troubling shift away from recognizing objective beauty and value.
This sly inward turn toward subjectivity, and away from the belief that certain emotional responses can be congruous or incongruous with reality, deeply troubled Lewis. He feared this trend would lead to “men without chests.” He posited that we would demand from such men qualities like drive and self-sacrifice while relegating virtues like honor and patriotism to mere feeling and opinion. He uses the example of a Roman father telling his son that it is a “sweet and seemly thing to die for his country.” The authors of The Green Book, however, would feel the need to debunk this sentiment the same way they debunked the idea that the sublime nature of the waterfall has any reality outside of the tourist’s own feelings.
Lewis further illustrated his point using a humorous example of himself and his attitude toward children. He admitted, “I myself do not enjoy the society of small children: because I speak from within the Tao I recognize this as a defect in myself—just as a man may have to recognize that he is tone deaf or colour blind.”
Rather than trying to justify the fact that he doesn’t enjoy the company of children by forcing the rest of society to see it as a virtue, Lewis acknowledged it as a personal shortcoming, recognizing that we should value spending time with children. However, it often seems today that people do the opposite: they argue that what they personally like is valuable and what they personally dislike is not. And this is exactly what Lewis saw coming.
When we move away from the Tao and the idea that certain attitudes toward the world are really true and good, we risk evaluating the world solely through the lens of desire and emotional impulses. “When all that says ‘It is good’ has been debunked,” says Lewis, “what says ‘I want’ remains.” He further remarks: “Those who stand outside all judgements of value cannot have any ground for preferring one of their own impulses to another except the emotional strength of that impulse.”
I believe Lewis correctly predicted humanity’s moral trajectory, which is highly concerning considering where he said it would lead. What I don’t think he could have predicted, however, was that one of the major ways that subjective and relativistic morality would manifest was through the oppression hierarchy.
Based on identity characteristics like race, sex, sexuality, and “gender identity,” the oppression hierarchy slots individuals into a stack that ranges from most privileged to most oppressed. At the top, you will invariably find “cis” straight white men. At the bottom, you will likely find black “trans” women, often bearing additional marginalized identities like “disabled.”
The morality underpinning this hierarchy is inherently relativistic. It contends that those lower in the stack are incapable of wrongdoing toward those above. For example, you might have heard that non-white people can’t be racist against white people because they are more oppressed as a group on the basis of race. It is also reflected in the idea that there is no such thing as misandry because under patriarchy men as a class oppress women as a class. This ideology further manifests in attitudes that trivialize or even endorse acts like shoplifting, justified by the belief that capitalism is an “oppressive” system.
Gone is the traditional notion of treating others equally and recognizing antisocial behaviors like theft as inherently wrong. According to this new moral framework, any attitude or action directed against an “oppressor”–be it an individual or a system–is deemed justifiable.
This new morality and its value calculus is also prevalent in contemporary gender ideology. It becomes particularly apparent in how trans-identifying individuals demand privileges that clash with the rights of women. Gender self-identification is a disaster for women’s sports, women’s prisons, and women’s private spaces, but it doesn’t matter because “trans” people are considered oppressed, and “cis” people the oppressors. As a result, trans-identified men can therefore demand anything at the expense of women’s rights, and women who refuse or fail to swiftly comply with every demand are branded as hateful.
Oppression stack-based morality is why trans rights activists feel entitled to call for violence, rape, and death against so-called “transphobes” who disagree with them, and why they receive no real pushback from within their communities. It’s why they feel emboldened enough to hold up signs that say “decapitate TERFs” and to show up at women’s rights events with fake guillotines. It’s why they regularly jump to the defense of male pedophiles, rapists, and murderers who seek transfer to women’s prisons. Critics of such transfers are often accused of bigotry and “misgendering.”
No matter what, the “trans” person in any scenario is viewed as inherently oppressed and incapable of wrongdoing, especially against those deemed as oppressors.
A case in point is Audrey Hale, a mass shooter who killed three adults and three nine-year-old children at a private Christian school in Tennessee. Because she identified as a transgender man, activists quickly slammed media outlets for “misgendering” Hale by referring to her using female pronouns. CNN and The New York Times even issued “corrections,” essentially capitulating to the preferences of a mass child killer. Prominent transgender activist Eli Erlick even called the school a “right-wing institution” and asserted, without evidence, that Hale had been “abused” there.
However, perhaps the most striking illustration of this new morality at play was seen in the response to the Hamas terror attack against Israel on October 7, 2023. Despite the heinous nature of the atrocities committed on that day, a disturbing number of people praised the actions of the terrorists. The moral calculus has been grim. The terrorists were rebranded as oppressed freedom fighters. Consequently, their actions, regardless of how morally reprehensible, were often rationalized or justified because they were perceived as acts against “oppressors.” In this context, the conventional condemnation of acts like mass rape and murder has become contingent on the relative privilege of the perpetrator and the victim. Then, a terrorist attack is no longer a terrorist attack.
While Lewis couldn’t have foreseen the specific outcomes of a shift towards subjective morality, nor the intricate oppression hierarchy that now informs societal judgments of “right” and “wrong,” he was nevertheless correct in identifying that it would be based on nothing more than personal desires and emotional impulses. The supposed objectivity of the oppression hierarchy is, in reality, a façade. The allocation of characteristics within this hierarchy, and the corresponding levels of privilege or disadvantage they confer, are seldom reflective of real-life circumstances. Instead, they are dictated by prevailing social and political trends, and the caprices of those in power. The clearest evidence of this is that a straight man instantly plummets from a position of unrivaled privilege to one of significant oppression simply by donning a dress and wig.
But what implications does this perspective have for society? Lewis wasn’t optimistic. He argued that discarding traditional values in favor of self-crafted ones, based on whims and impulses, does not lead to emancipation. On the contrary, it subjects us to what he termed “Conditioners”—those who “cut out all posterity in what shape they please.” These Conditioners are, in my opinion, analogous to those making the decisions about where individuals sit on the oppression hierarchy. “They produce conscience,” Lewis says, “and decide what kind of conscience they will produce.” In this manner, the Conditioners effectively conquer human nature. However:
At the moment, then, of Man’s victory over Nature, we find the whole human race subjected to some individual men, and those individuals subjected to that in themselves which is purely ‘natural’—to their irrational impulses. Nature, untrammelled by values, rules the Conditioners and, through them, all humanity. Man’s conquest of Nature turns out, in the moment of its consummation, to be Nature’s conquest of Man.
Lewis feared that a shift toward subjective and relativistic morality might inexorably lead to totalitarianism, with those in power guided by their basest instincts. Reflecting on the latter part of the 20th century, it appears his fears were not unfounded. At the time of his observations, such moral perspectives were already shaping the ideologies of fascism and communism. Despite his cautionary words and the unfolding of events that mirrored his warnings, this new morality continued to proliferate throughout society and it is now the guiding star of radical progressives.
While I favor Lewis’ view, I’m not arguing that everyone must necessarily agree with the concept of objective morality. I’m sure many lively debates could spring up around his words, and no doubt many have. I know numerous people with strong morals and values who might insist that they came to those values rationally, that we don’t need to rely on tradition, and that morals aren’t necessarily objective. I also know that some would say evolutionary biology has played a significant role in shaping moral attitudes, a view I accept, though I believe is not the sole factor at play.
Yet, I hope we can collectively recognize the dangers inherent in the other view—that right and wrong should be judged only according to the emotional intensity of a given impulse. This new morality has created an oppression hierarchy, where the moral standing of an action hinges entirely on the relative oppression or privilege of the involved parties. This perspective has led us to a precipice where, alarmingly, an act as heinous as cold-blooded murder might not be deemed wrong if perpetrated by someone from an oppressed group against an individual from a perceived oppressor group.
Do not let yourself become conditioned to accept this.
#Eva Kurilova#moral relativism#woke activism#wokeness#cult of woke#wokeism#wokeness as religion#woke#gender ideology#queer theory#oppression olympics#oppression stack#oppressed#oppressor#morality#intersectionality#intersectional feminism#antisemitism#hamas supporters#terrorism supporters#hamas#exterminate hamas#identity politics#subjectivism#subjective reality#religion is a mental illness
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the tortured poets department. songs one through five.
i was supposed to be sent away.
they forgot to come and get me.
i was a functioning alcoholic.
i hope you're okay.
you're the reason, and no one's here to blame.
what about your quiet treason?
we were forever running.
sometimes you ask about the weather.
your wife waters flowers.
i want to kill her/him.
all my mornings are monday stuck in endless februrary.
i took the miracle 'move on' drug. the effects were temporary.
i love you, it's ruining my life.
i touched you only for a fortnight.
but i touched you.
my husband is cheating.
i called you up, but you won't pick up.
i think some things i never say.
who uses typewriters anyway?
you're in self-sabotage mode, throwing spikes down the road.
i've seen this episode and still love the show.
who else decodes you?
who's gonna hold you, if not me?
who's gonna know you, if not me?
i scratch your head, you fall asleep.
i've read this one where you come undone.
i chose this cyclone with you.
sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me.
you told lucy you'd kill yourself if i ever leave.
i felt seen.
everyone we know understands why it's meant to be. because we're crazy.
that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.
here we go again.
you should've seen him when he first got me.
my boy only breaks his favorite toys.
i'm the queen of sand castles he destroys.
it fit too right, puzzle pieces in the dead of night.
i should have known it was a matter of time.
there was a litany of reasons why we could've played for keeps this time.
i know i'm just repeating myself.
pull the string, and i'll tell you that he runs because he loves me.
he saw forever so he smashed it up.
once i fix me, he's gonna miss me.
he was my best friend.
i felt more when we played pretend.
told me i'm better off. but i'm not.
tell me i was the chosen one.
showed me that this world is bigger than us, then sent me back where i came from.
for a moment i knew cosmic love.
now i'm down bad, crying at the gym.
everything comes out teenage petulance.
fuck it if i can't have him.
i might just die, it would make no difference.
fuck it if i can't have us.
i might just not get up.
i might stay down.
did you take all my old clothes?
that somehow seems so hollow now.
they'll say i'm nuts if i talk about the existence of you.
for a moment, i was heaven struck.
i loved your hostile take-overs.
how dare you say that it's-?
i'll build you a fort on some planet where they can all understand it.
how dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded?
fuck it, i was in love.
so fuck you, if i can't have us.
like i lost my twin.
i saw in my mind ferry lights through the mist.
i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift.
pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away.
my spine split from carrying us up the hell.
i stopped trying to make him laugh.
how much sad did you think i had in me?
so long, london.
you'll find someone.
i didn't opt in to be your odd man out.
i founded the club she's heard great things about.
i left all i knew.
you left me at the house by the heath.
i stopped cpr. after all, it's no use.
the spirit was gone.
i'm pissed off you let me give all that youth for free.
i'll find someone.
you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it.
my friends said it isn't right to be scared.
every breath feels like the rarest air when you're not sure if he wants to be there.
how much tragedy did you think i had in me?
how long did you think i'd go before i'd self-implode?
how long did you think i'd go before i'd have to go be free?
you swore you loved me, but where were the clues?
i died on the altar waiting for the proof.
you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days.
i'm just getting color back into my face.
i'm just mad 'cause i loved this place for so long.
had a good run, a moment of warm sun.
i'm not the one.
two graves, one gun.
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OC questionnaire
Thank you for the tag x2 @paeliae-occasionally (here and here)!!
The questions:
Why did you leave home?
What is your ideal job?
What will life look like when you complete your main goal?
When were you most tired?
What would it take for you to give up on your goal?
What is a flaw that you have?
I'm gonna do something different with this - I'm gonna have my main group of characters answer these from the vantage of when they were younger :) More precisely, under a year before disaster strikes.
So we have Ron (15), Teo (19), Haru (18), and Yamilé (18).
Why did you leave home?
Ron: "Home like in Santarém? I picked the wrong fight with the wrong people! Pretty simple chain of events there."
Teo: "Wouldn't call it simple at all. Neither for him nor for me, but he's not gonna tell you that. I left because I just couldn't see eye to eye with my family about the whole Ron thing. Lost a lot of respect for them that night when I got him to the hospital, and they told me that it was the wrong thing to do and I should've just let him bleed 'cause street kids are used to it. It was a tough decision to leave, and it's been rough, but I don't regret it."
Haru: "I do regret it, and I am still conflicted on whether I should go back or not. But I just don't have it in me to take care of my father for even another minute. And - well. I'm needed here. Right?"
Yamilé: "Sure you are. For me, I was living a dead end life. Who knew if I was ever even going to get a job in our home town - by that I mean Teo's, Ron's, and mine. I need more. I can die of heat stroke or catch something nasty anywhere, I don't need to stay home for that. I need to see more of this world so badly."
What is your ideal job?
Ron: "Something that pays? I don't know. People like me don't exactly hold stable jobs."
Teo: "What's that supposed to mean, people like you? I think being a bandit, this whole thing we're doing right now, is as close to a dream job as it gets for me. We're sharing a tiny space, and we never know where the next meal comes from, but it feels free. You know?"
Haru: "Architect."
Yamilé: "Why an architect? That sounds boring. I would like to be an actress. A scream queen, or a romantic lead."
What will life look like when you complete your main goal?
Ron: "I'm supposed to have a main goal? I'm just winging this right now! Things are honestly pretty great as they are, and I just want it to stay as it is." (Uh oh, Ron.) "It's pretty sweet to have people around to rely on, and to get a chance to travel and see more of the planet. Lele's got the right idea there."
Teo: "What he said. Maybe I'd like to get some of my writing published, too. Can't actually imagine myself being famous. Would be pretty sick though, wouldn't it? No idea what life after that could look like. Do poets still get book deals?"
Haru: "My main goal in life... I would like to figure out where and how to help the most effectively. We aren't in a good state. The only people having a good round of existence right now are the ones who are extremely rich. I would like to do something useful with my life that changes that, at least for some people."
Yamilé: "Well, now mine sounds lousy in comparison, thanks a lot. I just want to be famous, no matter what. I want my face somewhere on a huge mural, blown up to fifty times its size. After that? Who knows! Whatever happens, happens."
When were you most tired?
Ron: "Like, yesterday. Shit's tough when you've got a bunk mate who snores like a bear choking on jello."
Teo: "When I fucking get you - "
Haru: "Right now. I am feeling the most tired I have ever felt in my life right now."
Yamilé: "Pull his hair! Get him!"
What would it take for you to give up on your goal?
Ron: "Still just coasting, sorry! As long as I'm still alive, I'm good. And that's not something I'm gonna give up on."
Teo: "Stop talking when I'm trying to kick your ass. I don't really care about the whole being published thing, and with leaving home, I'm pretty sure I've given up on it already anyways."
Haru: "I don't think I will ever change my mind or lose focus, really. I am a very determined person."
Yamilé: "But don't you ever just want to do something for yourself? For me, something better would need to come along before I give up on the fame dream. And - you know, I know that it's just a dream. Most people don't make it, one way or another. But it's fun to think about, isn't it?"
What is a flaw that you have?
Ron: "Can't keep my damn mouth shut to save my life."
Teo: "I've got a bit of a temper."
Haru: "...I suppose I put myself last."
Yamilé: "Nothing, I'm pretty cool."
I am tagging @rotting-moon-writes @fortunatetragedy
@cowboybrunch @fairytaleinagem @noblebs @davycoquette
Your questions:
What is one thing you'd change about the person you're closest to?
What is the best thing you've ever been told?
What is a good gift to get for you?
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Now vs. When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d
Tonight, my mother leaves a voicemail asking I work back-of-house when I can. I haven’t had a parent call afraid for my safety since 9/11.
Close to where I live, a couple books a hotel, purchases paramilitary gear, pays off a credit card, in order to hinder my life. Who has a good way to respond?
If anything larger than myself notices me, I’ll die. I’m hesitant to recognize a god with hands, knowing how undelicate my own are.
I’m going to distract you.
Nanay calls on Monday night to try out her new tablet. She alternates between I’m beautiful and you’re beautiful. Beauty, meaning, a pair. We admit to gaining weight, and Ate Bernnie congratulates my well attended Zoom meeting. Lots of repetition. Nanay wants to show that her hair is all white.
I’ve yet to find a term of self-reference that does not equate to ornament.
Someone I don’t know mispronounces my name—worse—someone who would like to know me.
Be good and kind, they say, or else. But I am not good or kind or else I would not look for retribution.
Cardinals and squirrels before summer when I don’t want to be responsible for their nests.
On a podcast, a poet I love names the many accountability groups she’s joined this year. And I am jealous of her self-discipline and the word accountability, used as a term of self-discipline, but that is not what I want.
Foremost sin in my mind, the one not worth confessing.
Beloved, if it is the year of the comet, do not look for the comet. I stay so long in one place my hair lines the nests. The young blue jays are gray and flightless and want to know me. I don’t know how to hold down what I love, but I’ve eaten so much fruit trying to lure the animal to me. Thirty-one, I go to the grocery store. Two men open the door for me. I cannot stop them.
I want to love those who gather around my efforts. Offer care in its multiplicity.
At checkout, the cashier asks if I found everything I wanted. I say almost, but she pulls out the list.
Rice flour.
Plantains.
Then she asks, Have you tried Amazon?
Is have-you-tried-Amazon the new we-don’t-serve here?
The world begs for transcription. Most of all, I want to be accurate, but I would like to use less effort. Product of empire as I am, I know very little about forgiveness. I’m gleeful for anything I can allow myself to scorn without consequence. I want to be as good as they imagine, displace the southerner as his own child, unamerican as they come because I’m told union was never the goal.
--Asa Drake
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