#hyperfixation paradise

[platinum-roulette]

He's silly okay

[hazelnootnut]

Just go with the flow!

I played the game as soon as I woke up (and got breakfast and etc, but who cares about that), and oh my god. Man. I have a lot of thoughts about this game. And also spoiler-related art to make, but I shotgun this out as soon as I finished the game, so please take it. I love them all so much, they are all so Great and Cute.

[tumblerosestudios]

Okay so I've been listening to EPIC the Musical recently and can we talk about how it wasn't Ody's mercy that destroys him but his hubris and eventual ruthlessness? Like he would have gotten away from the Cyclops Scot free and saved most of his men had he not, after already doing his "nobody" trick, shout his fucking full legal name and zip code! Warrior of the Mind my ass you stabbed his eye not his ears!

Had he not done that one stupid thing out of callousness and hubris even with his crew being idiots and opening the windbag he would not have angered Poseidon, which would have meant he didn't have to deal with Circe, The Underworld, the Sirens, or Scylla, which wouldn't have lead to the mutiny which had his gaggle of idiots piss off Zeus and get themselves axed.

Odysseus' fatal flaw was neither mercy nor malevolence, it, like most Greek heroes, was Ego.

[christianschick]

Though I'm not nearly as caught up w Leverage!Redemption as I should be, watching Christian Kane progressively get older + more rugged in these gifs is doing something to my girly feelings:3,,,!

[ironsoftie]

Once Odysseus is back home. When everything's settled down and he's able to find some semblance of normalcy… Have you thought about how he fares back on Ithaca? Because I have. How some days are so light and easy yet others feel like trying to tread water in a storm-tossed sea.

Maybe you’ve thought of a moment where Odysseus and Telemachus are outside sparring, and Telemachus lands a really good hit? Odysseus laughs off Telemachus’s concerns, clutching his now bruised shoulder, and turns his head to joke that his son would be a better fighter than Eurylochus soon. Instead though, his words taper off and his eyes go slightly unfocused when he realizes the tall, broad-shouldered friend he half expected to see isn't standing there laughing along with him. Where for a split second, Odysseus could swear he smells acrid ozone despite the sky above them being clear and bright?

Or maybe it was a time when Odysseus had been walking with Penelope in one of the markets across Ithaca, only to catch a passing glimpse of a mop of chestnut-colored curls precariously held up by a red band ahead of him? When, for an unending second, his muscles lock in place and the air in his lungs freezes. That is, until the man in front of him turns his head and sorrow comes crashing back down into his bones like a rouge wave. It wasn't the warm and familiar smile of his dear friend Polites greeting him, but that of a stranger.

Maybe it was one of the times where Odysseus finds himself walking the halls of his palace aimlessly, and his eyes find one specific spot on the floor. The same spot where his mother, Anticlea, had once taken a very young Odysseus into her arms to comfort him after he’d taken an unfortunate tumble and broken the skin on the palms of his hands and knees. Stones that had been scrubbed clean of his blood then, only to have been stained afresh with the blood spilled from one of Penelope’s suitors upon his tumultuous return to Ithaca.

Perhaps there was even a time or two where Athena had begged Hypnos to help her friend rest easy after yet another night of Odysseus jolting awake with the same prayers for her aid stumbling their way off of his trembling lips. As if he was still trapped on that island. The island where his desperate prayers for her aid had been able to go no further from its pristine shores than he himself could.

Do you think Odysseus has moments where he cannot quite quell the discomfort in the disconnect of actually being safe and home within himself? After all, he'd argue, how could he when the loss of his men- his friends- still weigh on his mind and body like the Earth weighs on Atlas's shoulders. How could he while the parts of himself he lost, gave up, and had taken from him were scattered across caves, across the underworld, and across so many islands he could almost loose count if not for what had transpired on them? When, sometimes, he doesn’t quite feel fully himself, and wonders if perhaps he was starting to follow in his father’s footsteps.

Moments where everything weighs so heavily upon him that he feels as if all he can do is sit on his balcony and look out across the waves on the horizon. A sight that once brought him such comfort, now only acting as a reminder of what he had done and gone through while sailing its waters.

Or maybe you've thought of something else entirely. Of how Telemachus would fill the quiet that falls between them when his father’s gaze goes distant. Where he begins to share stories from his own childhood until Odysseus’s eyes are clear and focused raptly on him as he speaks so as to not miss a single moment of the tale?

Where all it takes Penelope's hand brushing his hair back from his face as she hums and holds him securely in her arms for the voices of those who aren't there anymore to gently fade to murmurs in the back of his mind? Where she weaves, and he sits nearby and works. Sometimes pausing just watching her hands dance skillfully across the loom, letting the rhythmic sounds relax him.

Where he finds himself tucking the hair behind her ear gently after catching Penelope staring at him as if she also couldn’t fully comprehend that he is back. Or maybe you’ve thought of times during meetings with visitors to their kingdom where he gets lost in thought so Penelope silently snakes her arm around his and clasps his hand in her own to bring him back to himself subtly enough so as to not alert their guests.

How Athena might sometimes fly past the couple's balcony after Odysseus has had a particularly rough day. Where, landing, she’d rest her wings and perch on the balcony’s hand rail just outside of their bedroom, clearly in his line of sight. And there she’d wait to hear Odysseus's sigh as he finally relaxes into the bed below him. How Athena, goddess of wisdom and war, would keep watch and ensure his family’s safety. He didn’t have to be on guard when he was attempting to try and rest. He could trust her to rouse him if he was needed. Of course, she would simply ensure he was never needed on those nights.

Or perhaps you've thought of the times where Odysseus can simply relax and laugh freely with his family. Where he looks at them and finds peace in their smiles and in the familiar halls and rooms of his palace. Where the sea breeze refreshes his mind as he walks around his island. Where he finds himself fondly remembering those that were lost on the journey home, and doesn’t find guilt smothering him for simply thinking of them. Where he stops questioning if this was yet another dream that he’d wake up from once he opened his eyes next.

Where he reaches out and cradles Penelope's face in his calloused and scarred hands, and the soft warmth of her skin and weight of her hands landing on his forearms to simply hold him back settles something fragile in him like balm on a burn he hadn’t known he’d received in the first place.

Maybe it was the first time Telemachus calls him father and Odysseus knows he means it and wasn’t just using the word as a formality. When Odysseus stops being the unreachable legend he was built up to be, and becomes a man and then a father in his son’s eyes.

Where he feels the familiar rush of Athena's approval in his mind after using a particularly good turn of phrase to secure more resources in a trade deal, and can finally accept that he actually has her blessing and favor again.

He doesn't forget all the bad that has happened, but he finds ways to live more in the present than the past that sometimes haunts him.

He struggles. Of course he does. There’s so much that he still deals with; but having Penelope, Telemachus, and Athena around is enough to get through even the worst of days. Healing is slow, yes. But he heals all the same. They all do.

[eldewinddolly]

Silly very self-indulgent Artemis Fowl x figure skating drawing 👀 With, as @laeliana suggested, Artemis and Minerva as an ice dance couple ! (I know it makes no sense, it's alright, it's for the ✨vibes✨) The pose is inspired by my fellow Frenchies Evgenia Lopareva and Geoffrey Brissaud's free dance - first because, well, it slays and it's iconic, and second because I feel like it fits Artemis and Minerva's vibe pretty nicely 😈

The perspective and colours are SO wonky on this one, I'm a bit frustrated with Minerva because I feel like it's hard to recognise her without her signature glasses... but well, it was just something I scribbled during Europeans' Zamboni times in only a few hours, and I had a lot of fun, so I guess it's okay 🙂

Also FUCK YES NIINA PETROKINA EUROPEAN CHAMPION LET'S GOOOOOOO 👑🇪🇪😭

[sticker-mania]

Alright theory time

I think that Gokuraku will obtain the tapir magik

And I know that’s probably not a surprising theory but I wanted to talk about it

Alright so as we know, the people of the village are being manipulated and having their sadness sucked out by the magik, and they believe they are in a paradise

What does Gokuraku mean?

I have a theory that somehow, he can acquire it, and bring the true paradise to his people and his sister

[azriolblu]

I actually forgot to post the links to my last two fics I wrote one for rot in paradise and one for Tokyo Ghoul (Kaneki x hide I’ll die with that ship)

if you wanna read em u can use the ao3 link in my intro post they should be at the top anyway I hope everyone’s doing great an old hyperfixation has slammed me in the back of the head.

[dragonsareawesome123]

I have so many shows I need to catch up on but the only thing I can think about is Neil and Eva ajskskksjsjs

[arsenicflame]

Mackenzie Clarke is sooooo strange and off-putting 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[celestial-hunt]

-> Requests are open, currently want to focus on stamps, favicon recolours and NPTs/IDpacks!!

[meli-meliai]

When Seth was a child, he wanted to know about everything.

How humans had first came to be, who the mysterious God that his parents so often whispered about on nights when they didn’t think that he was awake, why his mother always flinched whenever she caught even a fleeting glimpse of a snake. Why his father went out of his way to hunt down every snake he saw. Who decided that the trees and grass should be the same color in vaguely different shades.

It wasn’t just mere, childish curiosity, either. His thirst for knowledge was insatiable. But books weren’t invented yet when he was young; so instead he focused on listening to as many stories as he could.

His beloved mother, though an eternal burden weighs upon her shoulders, took it upon herself to weave the young world’s very first stories. Before the Son of the Lord had walked upon the Earth, gentle Eve held her son in tired arms and spun tales that no one but him would ever hear, parables of virtue and morality, her melodic voice floating in the cool, nighttime winds whistling past the orchards that could never compare to the Garden of Eden. Though she was exhausted-a feeling that she could never quite get used to, no matter how many times she has experienced it- she had never failed to scoop her son into her arms and hold him close as she spins another new story out of thin air.

“My son, have I ever told you about the angels who fell from eternal paradise?”

”No, you haven’t! Tell me!”

”Of course, of course…but before I tell you, do you know WHY they fell from paradise?”

“I can’t know ANYTHING if you don’t tell me! Why did they fall?”

”…I don’t quite know either! But… I might have a guess.”

”What is it, mom?”

”…”

Eve still had dreams-or rather, nightmares- of the beautiful angel who held out the tantalizing red apple out to her- his soft, sultry voice promising her an eternity of knowledge and a vast sea of answers. On some nights, she woke up shivering, swearing that she had felt a feathery wing envelope her back and raise her up, up, up… to a light so bright that she felt as though she might burn if she rose any further Funnily enough, though, it wasn’t his beauty that she remembered. That part was wispy around the edges, blurred and faded like a memory of the wind.

No. It was the promise. Of freedom, of knowing. For what is life without the crisp, sweet satisfaction and reward? What is humanity without automity?

Sometimes the taste of forbidden fruit lingers on her tongue, the crisp sweetness unlike anything she had ever experienced. Yellow-gold snake eyes watched her as she bit into the crisp flesh, and a part of her wanted to kiss it. To thank it for giving her a choice, the freedom, the knowledge that she could make decisions by herself.

Knowledge was a beautiful thing, for if she hadn’t eaten the fruit, she wouldn’t have seen the way the snake’s eyes softened in turn. And for a moment, she could see an angel behind it.

Then she and her Adam were promptly kicked out of Eden.

Her Adam…

”Mom! Are you okay??”

”…Oh! I’m so sorry, Seth. I was just… lost in thought.”

”About what?”

”Nothing, don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter now, anyway.”

Seth looks so much like his father, but also…so much like him. The fallen angel that she never had a chance to understand.

“…Mom?”

”Hm? What is it, my son? Are you tired? I can put up your bedroll…”

”No! I just wanted to ask, how did you come to love Father? He’s so…”

Frigid. Bitter. Demanding.

She couldn’t imagine a day where she wasn’t in love with Adam.

“I was created for him, Seth. I was born to love him.”

”Yeah… but what about him? Do you think that he loves you back the same way?”

Eve wasn’t sure. Before the fruit, before she got them both thrown out of Eden, she had never questioned her purpose or place in Adam’s life.She was literally created from his bones, shaped to be perfect and his love, his constant companion. But… he had another one, didn’t he? Before her. She never learned the woman’s name, but Eve wonders if she left because of the same reason that the snake tempted her with.

Knowing. Freedom. Something more out in the world.

She wonders about this woman, would love to talk with her about all the answers of the world. She wonders if she is as beautiful as the angel of her dreams.

“Of course he does. If he didn’t, he would’ve left me to face the consequences in the Garden of Eden.”

Seth frowned, scrunched up his nose. His mother always seemed distracted whenever he asked these kinds of questions, but never doubtful. He saw the way her warm brown eyes (the only part of her appearance that he had inherited) stared wistfully into the trees, as if she was reading something that wasn’t- and will never- be there. Waiting for answers that will never come.

And he hated it. He hated leaving questions unanswered. He hated the twistedness of guessing, of having to wrack his brain over and over again just to find a puzzle piece of the uncompleted whole story. What was the point of breaking God’s rule to consume knowledge itself, only for it to be twisted in a labyrinth of confusion? He was only a child, and he had hundreds of years in front of him to figure everything out- but he wanted to know now.

But he loved his mother. He inherited her eyes, her smile, her craving for knowledge. Her desire for something more. But unlike her, he would never have the chance to satisfy his curiosity until long after his death. And his fate will be far, far more cruel.

To him, at least.

”Hey…Mom?”

”Hm? What is it, my dear?”

”If you don’t know exactly why the angels fell, can you make up a story about it?”

Eve smiled, and in that moment the tiredness from her face faded. She nuzzled her son and placed a kiss upon his silvery-white hair, and her heart felt light and content. It was as if she had never left Eden. In fact, she felt even happier, somehow. Would she have had her wonderful children if she never ate the Fruits of Knowledge? Would she have had the joy of holding her bright-eyed son in her arms and making up lullabies to sing to him every night? Motherhood was suffering, but what is joy without it? Light and color would’ve never existed without darkness. And, though she knows that she should disagree, a part of her felt like she would never have it any other way.

If only she could’ve done the same for Abel and Cain…

If only she could’ve saved both of them.

But she was powerless to her own consequences, the first seeds of sin taking root in her own children. Holding Seth close so that he wouldn’t see his failure of a mother blinking back tears, she whispered a feather-soft prayer into the nighttime wind, that none of her children would ever suffer the same fate for as long as they lived. Otherwise, if anything happened to them because of her idiotic mistake, trusting that damned snake’s honeyed words and false promises…

She felt like crying. What kind of mother cries in front of her own child? She felt like a failure of a mother, unworthy to be the forebearer of humanity. For was the purpose of humans simply to struggle, due to her choice? Did she bear her children only to have them face the same fate?

…No. It won’t be like that again.I’ll get them right this time. She thought, as she wiped her face and lifted her face to smile at her son again, unaware that he heard and saw everything. But Seth has always been good at hiding his true emotions, so he gave her a smile that mirrored Eve’s own. He felt her hands tremble against his back.

She could still see the blood that coated her son’s dead body, could still feel the rasp in her voice as she screamed and screamed and screamed as Adam came running to see what was wrong-

No. It would be different this time. It would never happen again.

Her smile faltered a little bit as she looked at her son. So much like his father, but so much like her. Forced to carry such a burden at such a young age… but he never would’ve been born if not for that burden. Truly, a gift from the omniscient and omnipotent Almighty, sent as both a consolation and a reminder of what she had done wrong. And if not for that gift, she would’ve never been here, singing lullabies and weaving stories to tell him. And so, she began a new one, her ethereal voice carrying in the cool airs of the wind, the stars twinkling overhead mother and son as moonlight enveloped their silhouettes. The creatures of the Earth held its breath in anticipation of a new story:

“There was once an angel, the most beautiful out of all the ones in Heaven… he was God’s favorite, until the day he fell, both from his home and from grace.”

[eddiethenerdbro]

Had to go back to the classic pfp

[mirae-was-taken]

LETS GO MANLY PLAYED IT YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE

[christianschick]

Tweaking out over this era so bad, it's not even funny anymore ...

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

You can tell it’s a hyper fixation when every single song I listen to is somehow magically about these characters and I imagine very pretty animations for them