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I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.

"Would you like to?"

"Sure!"

So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.

Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.

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Cleaned up this comic

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Cheadle but shes a human and not THAT green

This is for a realistic au i have going on in my brain and i just dont see her dying her hair unnatural colors :--( she kinda looks like fiddleford from Gravity falls actually

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Decided that I wanted to recreate some of my favourite pre-transition selfies after I've been on HRT for 2 years. Here they are.

Looks like a glow up to me!

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untitled (tight squeeze), 2024

18 x 19 x 23 inches

just realized i never posted this piece here?? i made this in an intro to sculpture class that i took during my last semester of college and its something im really really proud of, i learned how to weld for it!

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my favorite genre of photo is cosplayer out in a random place in public. and i’m not talking abt malls or hot topic and shit where you’re already more likely to find cosplayers. i’m talking abt seeing like a junko enoshima cosplayer at a mcdonald’s

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DC Dark Legions giving Constantine a distinctive Scouse accent instead of a generic, vaguely Northern English accent. Peace and love on whatever version of planet Earth this game is supposed to be in.

This game sure makes some weird character choices sometimes, but this is not one of them.

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turns out i've been sleeping with mold for an indeterminate amount of time?????

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I'm like a fujoshi but for divorced couples

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No tech CEO or NYT bestselling novelist will ever match the creativity of a humble French postman who decided on a whim to spend thirty-three years building a surreal, majestic palace with the bricks and mortar of his dreams.

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what is it with able bodied people saying “get well soon” after you say that you’re chronically ill?? like? i am not gonna? and i once literally responded with “i’m not gonna, it’s chronic, as in permanent.” and they went like “oh well, hope you get better!” like bro 💀

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the unfortunate thing abt life is sometimes you Do have to wait for the bus in the rain and if you were a specific brand of annoying in 2012/13 this is significant

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No wait, random worldbuilding idea:

A people who have an age-old tradition, that when warriors left home to go to war, their family that remains home prepare funeral goods for them while they wait, sewing them the clothes and preparing the tools and all that they will be buried with - to emotionally prepare them to the hard possibility that the one who left will not return home alive. If the warrior returns, their burial goods are all burned in a bonfire that is lit for the celebration of their return.

And to this modern day, mothers of the culture will tell their children "fine, but let me take your measures for burial clothes before you go" as a way of telling them that something they're about to do is lethally stupid. Sharing stories about just how dramatic their mothers are, someone tells their group of friends that his mother once actually took out a measuring tape to start taking his measures when he said he's leaving home for a work trip.

And another one goes "pfft, yeah. This one time I went to a rock concert and came back home to mom sitting on her sewing machine, fucking making me a funeral coat."

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Couture week Schedule