#next up: wretched

[imvec]

Companion portraits for WalktheGalaxy’s For Reasons Wretched and Divine

[bacchuschucklefuck]

theme of laura | theme of laura II

[assmaster-8000]

𝑪𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒐 ✧

✧ Regret

✧ Rememberance

✧ Reunion

✧

All men are equal in death. To Clotho, such is their reigning tenet.

And to Clotho, a man like them sheds no tear for the departed. A necromancer need not fear death, for it is a cycle devouring upon itself, and they are the ringmaster of this primal instinct. As in— need, should, must. One must not fear, one must not ache or pine or rage. A snake is still a snake. Death is still a wild animal. Show your soft palm within the ribcage of your fist, and it will not yield to you. Clotho, for all their cool expertise, knows this through trial and error.

All men are equal in death. So this mantra becomes their epitaph for every sentiment buried under the grave of their tongue.

It's a corpse beneath the floorboards; this memory. The tremble in their fingers - the shortness of breath. Their prized coherence pooling out their ears like brains on a sidewalk. Black is all they've known the world to be, but this time it is blue. Saliva spilling past the shore of her lips. Piercing red lightning streaking through the sky of her eyes. She does not respond when they shake her. By God— what have you done?

All men are equal. Their mother was no man, no monster. Mother, simple and sweet, was cruel enough to damn her. As they were.

Their tears come soft on the linen of her robes. She is softer still. The used crowd of spellbooks and artifacts and alchemical instruments behind them laugh hollow at the display. Wire is taut, so is cloth. Neither will hold them now, after destroying the muscle that stretched to cradle their wretched self. So they bind her in her day shroud. And they bury her in the belly of the primordial Mother.

On her grave, they plant a singular Asphodel. Their one specimen.

And when they shakily kneel back to look down at the mount of soil, for a moment - just a moment, their nails slip back beneath the dirt. Back to where home was.

A moment was all it took. Soon as it comes, they rip it out her shabby resting grounds and lay it on their crown. That brain-shaped gilded mausoleum of theirs. So it has remained all this while - so has she, with that memory just as equal as a dead man.

But you know they never stay where they're supposed to for long.

In the land of the dead, asphodels are for the gray in between. They are the sustenance of the dead. They are my regrets, following you to the grave. O, Mother. You raised a walking corpse. As long as I hold you in my heart, the grave goes where I go; and dead men tell no tales, so... I love you. Isn't that the worst thing you've ever heard?

[ammoliterose]

anyways. chicken compilation post

[olibabart]

*ahem* I hereby declare Hayloft by Mother Mother the Sylus national anthem

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

some truman show au doodles on the @daycarefriendpickup magma and a singular fool cuz i think he'd let me ramble about western philosophy books

(fool by @/venomous-qwille)

[toytulini]

victorian style haunted house that has dysphoria about not being an open concept minimalist hellhole, before we even have those, so it doesnt know why it just feels sooo miserable and has to lash out at everyone inside it, so its wretched and haunted the whole time, until its finally bought by a house flipper in the 2020s who knows JUST how to fix it

[nonstandardrepertoire]

hi friends, various outlets i write for and also my dental insurance collectively owe me about $2,000, which means that we are . . . about $150 away from being able to make rent this month. any help would be greatly, greatly appreciated <3

[phagodyke]

was just saying to my friend that since my period is due next weekend I probably won't be able to hang out bc it'll be difficult to walk from my room to the bathroom let alone like. to the station anyway just suddenly became aware that the continuous cramps I get in this stage of my cycle have been slowly increasing in intensity the last few hours so we may be on course for a week earlier start than usual. locking down all defenses rn......🚨🚨🚨🚨

[b-blushes]

5 consecutive weeks that I have had at least one migraine day. Can I still say that my meds are working

[fr4ntzfanonwasright]

English Classroom Bookshelf Haul/TBR!

Desc:

The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë Utopia by Thomas More Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner TTheir Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston Basic Writings on Politics & Philosophy from Marx & Engels Catch 22 by Joeseph Heller Down These Mean Streets by Piri Thomas The Wretched of the Earth by Frantz Fanon Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

[microtyalm13]

my social anxiety is so bad i'm barely holding onto my consciousness rn 💀

[belfrygargoyles]

lets hear it for dumb bitches that think they accidentally double dosed a med but arent sure !!!!

[clearallcathy]

i long for dry air and slightly inconvenient summers so dearly. how much until i can Literally just get out of here

[foldingfittedsheets]

The mattress company I worked for the first time no longer exists. It was long ago eaten and assimilated by a bigger company. But when I started it was an incredibly intense five weeks of training. I was told I was extremely lucky to be selected, and I was. From a pool of a hundred applicants only fifteen of us made the cut to entering the training program.

The course covered how to talk to customers, how to ask open ended questions, how to close a sale, and product knowledge. I learned a lot, and truthfully my greatest takeaway was a lot of social scripts that I could use in other areas of my life.

We also had a midterm exam and a final. Both included a roleplay element with a trainer and a written portion. They told us when we started that the course was challenging but it was still a shock to come in after the midterm and realize half the class had failed.

I was named valedictorian of training- a dubious honor as it meant I’d done the best in the class, but popular lore had it that valedictorians struggled the most on the sales floor. Lo, I struggled.

Not because I wasn’t good. I was. But because my manager set out to systematically destroy my self esteem. Every sale, every interaction I had was scrutinized and criticized.

If I sold a bed with protectors, moveable base, and pillows he’d ask why I hadn’t managed to sell pillow protectors too. His first trainee had thrived on being challenged and he’d never bothered to learn a different way to coach.

It was wretched. My performance started strong but nosedived after a few weeks with him. My trainer, a man I loathed for stonewalling me in my interview, came in to inform me I was on new hire probation. If I couldn’t get my sales numbers up I’d be let go.

His actual phrasing was, “When you have a bandaid do you like to rip it off or pull it slowly?”

Since it was eminently obvious why he was visiting and because I thought it was condescending I sweetly informed him that I liked to soak my bandaids in hot water so they come off on their own.

He was briefly startled at this derailing but then got on with the bad news. I signed some forms stating that I understood my job was in peril.

I went home furious. I thought long and hard about why I wasn’t succeeding and how frustrated I was with my manager. I came in the next day and my anger had crystallized into a cold sharp edge.

My manager opened his mouth to address the probation and I snapped, “Just leave me alone. Go in the back if I have a sale. If you must address a serious issue then you will give me praise on two things I did right and present it as a compliment sandwich. Otherwise just say good job and shut up. Your constant nitpicking just makes me anxious and I do worse. Back off.” Belated and begrudging I added, “Please.”

He raised his eyebrows in dim surprise but I’d gauged him well. He backed off. Dutifully he’d meander into the back when I had a sale and praised me when I closed it. I resented knowing it was only because I’d demanded complimented but they still boosted me up. My numbers skyrocketed, I landed my first split king sale, and I exited probation with flying colors.

The trainer came back in to congratulate my manager for turning things around. To my gratification he gave me credit for setting him straight and said I’d taught him a different way to lead. My manager would often genuinely praise that moment when I’d stood up to him, impressed with my stubborn refusal to fail and my insight into what would help.

My biggest takeaway from the whole thing was just that people need positive reinforcement to succeed. Praise people for doing a good job. If you’re ever in a position where you need to criticize someone put it in a compliment sandwich instead of just saying the negative.

[shotmrmiller]

simon who is the town's executioner. he's accustomed to the weight of justice— or vengeance— delivered by his own hand. when he hangs your husband, it's just another day's work, flesh made rent. but then there's you. you stand there, hands folded neatly even as your world crumbles, posture straight, collected despite the grief that must be clawing at your insides. you don't plead, don't beg for clemency and that, to simon, is curious. interesting.

he vaguely remembers the bailiff muttering about the prisoner not having any next of kin, blood wanting nothing to do with an ignominious wretch like him, and by the way you stand there alone, the crowd having long dispersed, enduring—

you've no one either. so he makes his decision.

simon leads you away, his grip just shy of painful around your wrist, toward his horse, and you don't resist, which is good. patience isn't in his nature. he doesn't pause before helping you up, his large hands sure and efficient, and then swings up behind you.

his home has been in dire need of a goodwife.

(the blood on his hands doesn't bother him; it never has. he'll make sure it won't bother you for long.)