#i am like sisyphus if the boulder he was pushing up the hill was a list of very cool media recommendations.

[haze-of-hyperfixations]

HAVE YOU SEEN AMPHIBIA YOU WOULD LOVE AMPHIBIA

AHHH HI BOBA!! I HAVEN'T!! I keep meaning to watch it, and I keep forgetting to actually start it!! But I ABSOLUTELY agree, from what i know of Amphibia, I think I would be SO obsessed with that show if i ever actually started watching it!!

you know my taste in shows so well askdljsld :)

[alexaloraetheris]

Sysiphus is not happy, and that's the whole point

I never in my life understand Sysiphus as well as when I'm vacuuming.

Because rolling the boulder up the hill is a punishment. He's free to go to the Asphodel Meadows if he just stops. It's the promise of Elysium fields that keeps him pushing that boulder up, endlessly and forever.

Vacuuming is the same. The dust is endless, and so is the animal hair. I keep pushing that heavy machine, into every goddamn nook and cranny I can reach (but I can't physically reach them all) and it all feels pointless, but it must be done.

Could I alleviate my suffering? Could I have fewer animals? No. The dog is mom's. The two older cats have gone through enough trauma in their lives, I can't uproot them again. I can't give Kalašnjikovka away, because she may be cute and cuddly, but how do I trust her new owners won't throw her out of the house after she breaks their cups, their porcelain figures, their Swarovski bunny set? Her last owners did just that.

Could I share the burden? Have someone else push the boulder up the hill? No, my mother has chronic pain and a bad hip. On a good day she can do the dishes. There is no one to share the burden with.

Could I stop? No, because the dust accumulates. And the Asphodel Meadows (a dusty house) have no appeal to me.

So I push the damn boulder (vacuum cleaner) again and again, hoping against hope to see the Elysium Fields (a clean house). But the boulder is enchanted (the house is old, and the animals always shed). I shall never suceed. Because for a moment I reach the top of the hill, and the boulder stays still, I, in my endless hubris, am satisfied, and sit on my rock in Tartarus, in peace.

But then mother comes home, sees the dust bunny hiding in her slipper, and says: "I thought you said you were going to vacuum today! Have you even done anything?"

And just like that, the boulder rolls down the other side of the hill. And I have to get up from the rock again. And again. And again.

One must imagine nothing. Sisyphus is suffering. But if we must, I suppose we can imagine that Albert Camus has never had to push a vacuum cleaner.

[xerith-42]

Hmgngmhn dialogue idea between Travis and Aphmau that I can't be bothered to make into a proper scene yet but I'm very proud of

"Aphmau, are you a reader of ancient mythos?"

"I can't say I am. Laurance always has some comparison to make to their plays though."

"Hm. Guess I'll have to tell him this some time."

"Tell him what?"

"There's an old myth about a man named Sisyphus. I've thought about it a lot."

"Care to tell me what's on your mind?"

"The finer details don't really matter, what's important is that Sisyphus was punished by the gods. As a punishment for his ambitions, he was cursed to eternal torture. Push a boulder up a hill, and then push it back down."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Does it accomplish anything?"

"Nothing."

"That's awful."

"It's how I felt on that island. For a while, every single day was the same thing. Wake up, fight off the Demon Warlock, get yelled at for fighting off the Demon Warlock, go to bed. Then you wake up and do it all again."

"Up the hill..."

"...Down the hill. It's maddening."

"Strangely enough, I think I can relate to that."

"Really?"

"Not exactly, but a similar concept. Being a lord can feel like that sometimes. Wake up, check in on everyone, address problems in the village, start a new project, go to bed. Then you wake up and do it all again."

"But you like being a lord."

"I love it. And I would never call it a punishment."

"So it's not really the same."

"Why not? Who's to say Sisyph-- Sisy-- That guy! wasn't able to eventually love that boulder!"

"Wh-What??"

"Or maybe he loves the hill. But he has to love something, otherwise why would he keep going?"

"Well, the gods also cursed him with immortality so he couldn't die."

"You said the finer details don't matter!"

"Okay, but that's not a finer detail!"

"Then why didn't you say it before?! You said--"

"I know what I said--"

"No! No, you specifically said "finer details don't matter." You didn't say Sisy-whoever was immortal, so it's counted in those finer details!"

"Oh my Irene. I said that in regards to things like his family, and why he was punished."

"Are you saying that someone's family doesn't matter in their story? That they should only be known for their most miserable moment?"

"...It sounds awful when you say it like that."

"Then tell me the full story."

"Fine. Sisyphus was a tyrant, who slaughtered so senselessly that the gods sought to punish him. In response, Sisyphus attempted to cheat death. He used his own wife and risked her life while doing so. As recompense he was given the immortal life he craved, but burdened with the punishment of his boulder and his hill. An endless task with no meaning, no purpose, no respite. Endless solitude, endless repetition."

"Oh."

"I'm... still trying to figure out what it means."

"Why did he do it?"

"I don't know. I don't know why he did any of what he did. And quite frankly... I don't know if he deserved his punishment."

"I... Don't either."

[nitrosodiumfmp]

Media Like Sinister

As part of our initial research, we have to look at books/movies/etc which are thematically similar to our game. I have primarily chosen media concerning trips to the underworld, a genre known as katabasis, a Greek word I believe.

Obviously the most classic example of this would be the Divine Comedy, a 3-part narrative poem concerning a man (Dante) and his trip through Purgatory, Hell and Heaven. It's an interesting look at the medieval view of the afterlife, and has proved very inspirational for various games (see ULTRAKILL). However, beyond basic theme, it's not too relevant.

Searching for "movies where people go into the underworld" mostly gives you films related to a 'downward spiral' story motif, i.e. a character's fall from grace, or their descent into a criminal underworld, in the more metaphorical sense. Once more, it's not very relevant. Most of my inspiration has come from other games, after all.

The closest movie I can think of to my concept is As Above, So Below. In it, some explorers go into the Parisian catacombs to look for the philosopher's stone, and end up in hell, which is filled with ghost manifestations of their guilt and cave demons, naturally. It does mirror a lot of themes with Sinister, i.e. greed, illusion, death, mythology, and its environments are mostly catacombs, with skulls, flaming torches and cobwebs adorning every wall - very in line with some of my original ideas. It's still not a one-to-one replication, and it's not something I'm taking any inspiration from whatsoever.

What I am taking inspiration from, however, is the Greek myth of Sisyphus. In pop culture, he's mostly known as the man forced to roll a boulder up a hill for eternity, but there is more to his myth. In life, he was a devious and cunning king; on one occasion in specific, he had betrayed the word of Zeus, and so the god sent Thanatos (death) to chain him up in the underworld. Sisyphus took this as an opportunity, tricking Thanatos into demonstrating the chains on himself, at which point he restrained Death and escaped. This, of course, meant that nobody could die anymore, further interfering with the natural order. Once Thanatos was once again unfettered, Sisyphus was caught and punished for his hubris. For thinking that he could outwit the gods, he was sent to Tartarus, where the rock-pushing visual of him comes from. The idea of death just not working is a very primally strange idea - the distinction between life and death is the most basic requirement for a living being to, well, be living. In most forms of media - books, movies, et cetera, once a character dies, they're dead. Video games are the outlier, where you can respawn over and over, even changing the past and future with multiple savegames. Most games don't address this, but I want to in Sinister. You keep coming back because you're in the afterlife already - there's some interesting philosophical discussion that could be had there too, i.e. where does a ghost go when it dies?

I have a good feeling about this project. It's very layered and interesting.

[rose-from-ashes]

A letter to a shard of Azem, never sent:

I lost you. I lost you and I lost you and I lost you. Again and again I lost you, first to the sundering and for the rest of my life, to the rolling of the boulder down the hill. What does it say about Sisyphus that he continues to push knowing that he can never keep the boulder from crashing down? Nothing forces him to continue. He could leave it at the bottom of the hill and stop forever if he wished. He would reach no high peaks, but he would avoid the struggle and the sweat and the pain of aching muscle and the rush of adrenaline as his grip begins to slip before the boulder falls again. And yet he continues, inexorably pulled into his beautiful struggle, now defined by it. The origin of the word Sisyphean- a whole new kind of helpless impossibility.

That is how I feel about you. And yet it is not. Were you a boulder it would be one covered in every kind of faded paint loved by a thousand hands. I am not the only one to hold you in your many lives. So many push the boulder beside me, and none of us see it as a task. We look not to the hill but to you, to the joy we feel in the work singing through our very bones, a joy you bring us. And in your own way you support us in turn. We bring you up the hill, but you make the reason for the journey in the first place.

When inevitably I lose you again, to your heroism or to your anger or to your hurt or to situations outside of our control, it hurts. My hand scrape on your rough surface and I am left bleeding even as I grieve the touch of you. I begin my wandering trek back down the hill. I don't always seek you first thing. But the moment I see you again my hands throb in a reminder of the pain and the joy you gave me, and all I can do is approach in my wonder and begin to place my bleeding hands upon you, and push, adding another print to the paint. I never quite heal from the last one. Perhaps it would be better for me to just leave you alone. But nothing else brings me the same sort of joy.

I do not resent you, for dying. For leaving. For hurting, for all the million little things you do, I do not hate you for the loss. I could never. Resoundingly, my soul sings for you and for every moment I have you all that I can think is of how lucky I am. To have you in that moment. To chance across you in some beautiful confusion of billions of souls that happened to be just right for an instant. I curse only myself. Lament my loss and cry to the sky, why am I like this? I know the cost. Perhaps I was made to lose you. Perhaps I was meant to be yours. Either way this is simply what happens and no amount of wishing will change that. I will love you. I will cry and grieve and laugh and rage and I will love you. For every last breath I take. I would give my life in a moment for yours.

I only wish you could forgive me. I never wished to harm you. But a man grieving the last of you while you stand there before him is never like to be kind. I hope you understand. I love you. I'm sorry.

[iloknalem]

The church bell rang again today

As it always has, the church in front of my apartment rings its bells every Sunday, without fail, at 9.45 am, for 5-7 minutes. Just the perfect duration to make a half boiled egg.

The church. It used to be so overcrowded, they built another church around one kilometre apart at the end of the 19th century. Nowadays, both of them doesn't even do weekly mass anymore. Seems like people would fall out of love for religion after the reality of 2 devastating wars hits in. I cant imagine the hopelessness those people felt, when the rock they stood on was unceremoniously swept away from under their feet.

But this is not a lesson about hopelessness. What caught me pondering was the guy ringing the bell. The church also rings at different hours of any other day, just a short ring, around 30 seconds.

I assume the guy must just be someone appointed by the catholic organisation, or whatever they call it, to maybe do the upkeep of the church and whatnot. Just another cog in the going-down-in-popularity-machine called catholicism. An honest man in the system, just doing his job, a symbolic job of what used to be the cornerstone of peoples life, nowadays only done for formalities. A function, stripped of its significance— shortly said, its useless

Nobody comes anymore to the church, the bell is just a noise polution at this point. The Germans are pretty stingy about noise on Sundays, and yet here they are, ringing their old bells again,

and now i wonder, how does he feel about his job. I used to be someone who thinks that everything needs to have its own purposes, its destiny, its contribution to the society. This job looked pretty useless to me, it lacks any real meaning nor purpose. I thought, if i was the man tasked to ring the bells, i wouldn't be happy with what i do— i wouldn't be content with my life.

The closest comparison might be the legend of Sisyphus. After 2 times eluding his fate to die, he was punished to roll a boulder to the top of the hill, and watch it rolls back down, endlessly. A completely, useless, destiny i must say. And yet here we are, in life, facing the same reality in one way or another.

Some of us maybe are said to have been lucky, to have found "find the meaning of the universe", to maybe work in their dream job, have a dream family, fulfill their destiny for the world.

And yet, i think those kinds of wishful thinking, the "expectations" of a perfect life and their understanding of it, potrayed in social media, in our society, is just a naive way to give purpose in this funny game we play called life. Its just religion 2.0, its there to give comfort, to justify that everything we do have its own meaning in the grand scheme of things, or to simply give that push to wake up in the morning and do our day-to-day duties. A sense of hope, the light at the end of the tunnel, whatever you want to call it. A normalized addiction.

At this point, you might think i would go all nihilistic to say that life is meaningless, and therefore theres no point in justifiying the meaning of what we do. I dont think its like that.

I do think theres a reason on why things are. Reasons, for why stars shine, why water flows, and why the world revolves. Yet, our understanding, or in this case our lack of understanding, underlines the puniness of human nature, how small and insignificant we are. These humbling factors, we need to acknowledge them first to understand, to realize our inability to parse the meaning of life.

Theres still a lot of things that we still dont know, a lot of things we need to sit on, discuss about, and figure out together something other than "42". This, gap, between our teeny tiny minds and the meaning itself, some people call it the absurd— the absurdity of life. Theres still a long way to go, and i dont think were gonna get the answer in our lifetime, at least not mine. Until i die, i wouldnt get the answer of why my coffee spilled this morning, or why i needed to get through a lot of hardships, too much so that it seems comical, that i think someone is voodooing me. I mean, i know why i spilled my coffee, thats because i tripped on my table, but i will never know the reasoning behind it, in the grand scheme of things.

To try to find the meaning of everything is to embark on an endless journey that often leads to more confusion than clarity, It is futile. It's more liberating to accept that some things might remain enigmatic, allowing us to appreciate life's mysteries without being weighed down by the relentless pursuit of meaning.

There are a lot of solutions for this "problem" we have, which is our nature to seek reasoning, and the overbearing non definitive meaning of life. Some seek to find their own meaning for themselves, some threw all reasons and morals out of the window. Some find comfort in accepting their insignificance and prefer to not live at all. None of them are wrong i must say.

For me, I think that I must try to confront the absurd, to not give in to the situations and conditions we are given, as we are free to do what we want, to be where we want to be, as long as you want to challenge life itself. This part, im still figuring out on what to say about it, its still a journey for me.

One must imagine that sisyphus is happy, that he's content with what he does fully knowing that what hes doing is absurd, for the struggle itself is enough to fill one man's heart. One must not question the reason, and just embrace the happy things in life, the lofty goals we make, the stupid obstacles we find, the sorrows we endure, to laugh, to learn, to love, and therefore to live. Life is absurd, and thats okay.

And therefore i conclude that the bell guy has a chance, and might have found happiness too in doing what he does. I hope he does.

To not be a slave of destiny is the way to live, and thats how i want my attitude on life to be. Its going to be my own adventure on challenging the absurd, and im going to define how it will be as much as i can. Obstacles are going to come and go, and theres no deeper meaning in it other than to learn from it and to embrace it —to embrace the absurd.

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

Okay but the self-destructive self-loathing he has in one of the last scenes.  His fortieth birthday is coming up and he’s not looking forward to it.  He hates himself, he’s depressed, he’s resigned to the fact that he’s stuck doing the same songs over and over again with no innovation or change and his ex who he’s not even remotely over thinks he should go to rehab and he’s like ‘sounds great in theory but I’m not ready to get clean.  Also how the shit am I meant to pay for it because no matter how much I work everyone needs something from me financially including you’ and he’s kind of done living.   He doesn’t know he’s going to die in two years but he’s given up living and is shuffling through a shitty existence like Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a hill and resigned to his fate. 

[marmaladerising]

Sisyphus and Skin Care

A group of friends and I were recently talking about generational differences. They referenced something they'd seen explaining Boomers as mindlessly optimistic with an unchecked faith in old-school institutions, Gen Z as overall pretty pessimistic, understandable as we are bequeathing them a burning planet, and Millenials caught in the middle as aware of the failures of all the institutions that Boomers told us to believe in but hopeful enough, most days, to wake up and keep doing our little part. 

[Dear Gen X - I didn't forget you, but as you are likely used to, you didn't come up.]

I commented that we, Millenials, sound like Sisyphus.

For those not lucky enough to know mythological-obsessed tweens who keep you informed on such beings, he is the god doomed to push a boulder up a mountain every day- only to watch it roll back down once he finished. We had an accidental moment of quiet at the table, and then someone commented on the realization that I think was sinking in for all of us, that we would never see the better world we were waking up each day, voting and marching for.

Of course, we will see changes, some improvements, and some setbacks, but a world of not just equality—but equity and an end to the violence against our planet and ourselves—will likely be beyond the reach of our lives. So, all we can do is push our little rocks up the hill and hope they will accumulate to take us all higher as they roll back down. 

I live a weird, often hypocritical existence between conflicting states of believing that "consumerism is an epidemic actively destroying our world" and deeply enjoying creature comforts as a means to satiate the way the institutions I exist within crush my soul. Locked in a perpetual chicken or the egg, I struggle to live in line with my big beliefs, as I suspect many do.

It's why, while I long for the security and stability that money yields, I am terrified of the moral conundrum that I worry would come with it. How much is 'enough'? What is the line in the sand that it seems so many with wealth cross over regarding how one who purports to care about the world and its troubles uses their money? When does buying all organic to avoid harmful chemicals in your food, which seems reasonable enough if you have the means, slip into, "Well, of course, I need a vacation house/ yacht/ million dollar pair of pants," which I feel safe in saying are all unnecessary in comparison to the good the cost of them could yield. At what point does your wealth, which is power, demand responsibility to limit your wealth in service of the good? The unpolitical, unreligious, equitable good?

  I must admit in my most disconnected moments, as a working-class mother of color, I allow myself to fantasize that it isn't my duty. My role as a ferry through life for my children is my sole responsibility, or else my hall pass is to not worry about anything else. Surviving while shaping them to be self-respecting, aware human beings takes so much that any means to get to that end must be justified, right? So another mother's child must dig for minerals I don't even know the names of for phones made to break so I can call mine. If I can play such mental acrobatics in my conscious line of awareness, what are the mental moves of the billionaires?

Now for some skincare, I've been loving. 

In 2023, I started using face masks as a little treat. Nothing fancy, just the ones hanging in the skin care section of Target; I'd put them in the fridge, let them chill, slap one on, and instantly feel pampered. No mask was safe in my house for longer than a week, and I think I owe my daughters three masks each from slipping theirs on after lights out at night. 

I was obsessed and noticed how healthy my skin looked post-mask. Aware that I wasn't getting much bang for my buck buying one mask a week, not to mention single-use items are embarrassing, I started to search for products similar to the "goo" on the masks. I tried TikTok and Google, putting my writing skills to shame in having no other way to explain what I was looking for. I'd made my own hyaluronic serum after Target stopped selling my favorite Bliss serum with much success; however, this wasn't that. The logical thing might have been to go to a beauty store and ask, but my mental health wasn't up for an interaction with one of their resident beauty queens, so I just accepted that it was a mystery I'd never solve. 

That was until I was looking through Target skincare aisle absentmindedly months later and found this:

Versed Dew Point Mostiruinzing Gel-Cream. 

GEL CREAM?! What a concise way to say exactly what I was looking for!

And let me tell you- this shit is GOLD. 

I am obsessed. The scent is cool and clean, the texture is perfect, and a little—we're talking no bigger than a dime—is perfect for my face and neck. 

This is a desert island-level favorite for me, which led me to try the brand's dark spot remover, Versed Out of Sight Dark Spot Gel. A month in, and it has made reasonable progress on some of my most persistent scarring.

Another product in my current rotation is CeraVe's Hyaluronic acid serum, which I got because I love their AM and PM moisturizers. Before the Verse, I used the PM moisturized daily- and the AM on days I knew I'd be out and about. 

Honestly, I hadn't tried these before despite TikTok dermatologists insisting they were the BEST because the branding wasn't very sexy. I am a sucker for fun stuff, man- I'm not saying it's right, but Cerve packaging didn't look so different from Preparation H packaging, and I like pretty things.

However, after my daughter's allergist said the brand's Moisturizing Cream was the best for her eczema (since she has a shea, cocoa, AND coconut allergy), I figured I'd give their other products a shot, too, and I am SO glad I did. They do their job, and they do it well. The AM takes a little work/time to soak in and become translucent, but I mix it with my tinted CC or BB cream and concealer, so it doesn't bother me. I also use their Hydrating facial cleanser, which does a fantastic job of cleaning my skin without stripping.

The newest item on my shelf is the Neutrogena Hydroboost Body Gel Cream.

After how much I loved Versed gel cream, I wondered if a similar product existed for a full-body moisturizer. I have always hated traditional lotions because of how sticky, oily, or slimy they left me feeling, preferring to be ashy rather than any of the above. So, I was pretty excited to try this. It is everything I ever wanted in a lotion—it's lightweight, spreads easily, and soaks right in. It leaves a temporary residue on my palms that irritates my sensitive skin, but it goes away within minutes and doesn't deter my use. I've started layering it on my face at night before I put on my CPAP- don't judge, and it's cut down on my CPAP acne and line in the morning.

This isn't a sponsored post (though #target and #versed are welcome).

[sisyphussmile]

Hi friend,

I seem to be stuck in my mind these days, like I can't leave the little people in my head alone, not even in favour of my friends in the real world. Up there, I am caught somewhere in between Camus imagining Sisyphus smiling as he pushes the boulder up the hill, yet another day, and Sylvia Plath, paralyzed in her mind, separated from her body by a bell jar, a glass wall between her and the rest of the world.

It feels like I have been split in half, and the "me" in my mind seems to be spending all my time. Every thought is slower than it used to be, like it has to fight its way out, and so by the time it reaches the "me" out here, it is half of what it used to be. I think I describe it like this because of a Murakami novel I read years ago when I first went to university. I remember I finished it on a train journey on my way home, my new home over here. In that novel, some people can separate their minds and do so for corporations. It's a very strange novel, with unicorn skulls and winter, but it crosses my mind often these days. I don't know if I dare reread it.

Of course, all this is much too pretentious to say to anybody, so I won't, not even to you. I just don't feel connected with myself like I used to. My mother calls me often. I run out of things to tell her. She worries about me, which is nice. She told me recently that she has been reading about the differences between depression and depression caused by bipolar disorder. I think it's because I struggled to answer her when she asked when I was the saddest. I'm not sad; I'm just broken. But apparently, the difference is that most people with BPD describe their depressive episodes as deep exhaustion without reason. I can only agree; sometimes it seems like an effort to breathe. I try to distract myself, but just like I have lost my appetite, I seem to have lost all my desires. I struggle with attention.

I'm sorry, this is a rather bleak start. Let me try again. I defended my bachelor's last Friday, and it went well. I couldn't have done it without my advisor. She has been very understanding and accommodating. I hope I get the chance to do a project with her some other time when I am more myself; I think we would work well together.

I received top marks, and while I know I should be happy, there is this uncertainty gnawing in my gut, I feel undeserving. She sent me an update the day after, where she told me she thinks I should be proud of myself, that it was really good work, and that I should take care of myself this summer. They are beautiful words, and I don't know how to answer them. In some way, I wish I could bottle a couple of tears and send them to her, but I am aware of how bizarre a response that would be. I'll figure out a present for her; maybe I can do a painting or a little sculpture, a frog maybe.

I'm going to the beach on Friday with a friend. I bought a new swimsuit, and it's green. We are going after he gets off work, so not until evening, but the sun sets very late now. It's raining today, I got caught in it yesterday, went into the shop just for a moment and when I came out, everything was way grey and wet.

My mother keeps telling me to get enough vitamin D, so I have been spending afternoons in the sun, working on my tan as they say. I accidentally burned myself with some oil back in May; it's scarring, so I keep a strip of my skin covered up when I sit in the sun. There is a pale line across my wrist now.

When my mother was here last, she joked that we could get a matching tattoo, a seahorse. I think that was the first time I have ever heard her say the word "seahorse," so quite a surprise. I also doubt that she would really want to. I know you don't speak much with your mother, but I want to tell you that mine always asks after you.

I don't know if I should indulge myself with the things I do want to do or if I should not. On the one hand, surely the mood of those works I seem so drawn to will rub off, and where will I be then? But there is something uplifting in reading the words of another like-minded individual; it makes me feel less alone, in a way. I say "in a way" because I seem to prefer to be alone at the moment. The quiet is nice. Then, on the other hand, what am I to do with myself if I refrain from reading other depressed people's thoughts? I seem to want to do nothing else. Except, funnily enough, I have been reading about Julius Caesar. Fascinating person. Imagine having such a will to shape the world around you. I wonder what it is like inside the mind of great men. I say "men" because I don't think I know what great women think. But men like Caesar really do seem alien. I have to call my grandmother today. I want to call her all the time, and at the same time not. Because she breaks my heart in a way nobody else seems capable of. I think of our conversations much more than I do anybody else. I love her so deeply I don't know how to put it into words. I miss the way her hair smells when I give her a kiss, I miss the way she pauses when she speaks, I miss the way her hand feels wrapped around mine. I just miss her entirely, and it breaks my heart to call her because she is so close and yet so far away. It is easier to miss her when I don't reopen the wound her absence has caused. I know this is a strange way to think. I know she will be happy to hear my voice. I know my time with her is limited, and I hate it all.

I don't seem to be able to write to you today without it turning out sad. I am sorry my friend. I swear that I am fine and that I will get better. I will try to write to you again later this week. Perhaps from the beach.

Yours,

[hvsomnes]

HV's Writing Blog #3: Do Nothing Faster

The late Albert Camus, when describing life as meaningless, had stated that one must see Sisyphus- Greek mythological figure endlessly rolling a boulder up a hill but never getting it up all the way- as happy.

He stated that, as Sisyphus' life was now dedicated to that boulder, and there was no escaping the fate of him having to restart pushing up that boulder down at the bottom of the hill, that he would revolt against the melancholia the only way he knew how: by accepting the hopelessness of pushing up that boulder and choosing to be happy anyways.

This idea is closely tied to the philosophy that is absurdism: knowing that life is meaningless, there's nothingness waiting for us, and going "who cares? I can still live my life how I want it." This is different than nihilism, which allows you to live in apathy- absurdism focuses on revolting against such by simply living your life, doing what you like and helping others.

I've also read that absurdism as a philosophy is reflected in writing. Stating that, as absurdism focuses on doing what you'd like in the face of chaos, writers (and artists as a whole) embody this idea by jumping to one project to the next as the wind takes them.

It's been a while. I've revised THE BOOK again.

Instead of focusing on keeping it totally under wraps, since I'm essentially starting at page one once more, I'll let you in on some info on it. It's a sci-fi novel-- oh, look, there go my followers.

I'm kidding. But it is a sci-fi novel though, set in space. It has a few main characters and it deals with loss and finding purpose. That is interwoven across multiple scenes of space battles and the like, but the message is still there. I hope.

As I've been studying further and further into absurdism for my own benefit, as I feel a lot of factors of that philosophy fall in line with my own personal ideals, I still have this nagging desire to finish that book. To write it, even when I can't think of anything to write.

In a way, a book is like an absurdist life. It ends. According to the internet, French poet Paul Valéry once said something along the lines of "a work is not finished, merely abandoned" and that quote has stuck with me since I heard it in passing like, three years ago.

THE BOOK should be finished. But why am I worried about finishing it? The happiness comes from the journey of writing it, rather than the possibility of feeling or not feeling fulfilled after it's finished. And it will. I know it will.

I want to try to write some more short stories for my blog here, also. Fingers crossed I'll actually get some done. Maybe I'll pull up some old short stories I abandoned before. Returning to an old story I was writing and stopped will definitely help with that absurdist metaphor.

Dear reader, thank you for skimming in. I hope you have a good day, night, week, or however long it takes for me to write to you again. I leave you with some art again: this is from Elijah Johnson, a solarpunk piece that was the first place winner of a contest done a few years back. I'll see you all around!

[chewinglass]

hello void, nice to meet you. Your eyeless gaze comforts me. No eyes to judge or ears to hear my screams. Just empty infinite space to let it all out.

I will fill you void, I’m not sure with what yet.

I will empty my guts into you. Unfiltered, besides though the unavoidable selection biases that make up my brain.

I will use you as a tool, to see my life through an alternate lens. Through the eyes I project onto you. Through the pinhole perspective of my life you get to see. Though the way my mind refactors information to sound more aesthetically pleasing to fit this platform.

This platform reminds me of being 14 and [really fucking sad]. It reminds me of all of the eras of my life I’d rather sweep under the rug and forget. I’m in such a different place now, but she’s still inside of me. Coming out when she needs to feel everything I try so hard to suppress. There’s a catharsis in indulging her in her misery. she developed Stockholm syndrome towards it. And now I’m stuck with the remnants.

It’s no longer as extreme. It’s hard to be truly sad when I can look back on my life with pride and immense gratitude. Back then all temporal directions looked bleak.

I experience more emotions than her too, like right now I am feeling the weight of impending sadness, pressure in my eyes that are too exhausted and apathetic to cry, stress in my shoulders and tension in my ears. Emotions like these don’t have names so the best I can do is document my physical condition but they poorly capture the beast.

I also have a deep sense of calm in my torso and legs, I feel rooted, things are ok. The sadness isn’t strong enough to cause full discomfort in my body.

I have an infinite amount of things I need to be doing. Things I want to do. And I’ve done so much already. I wonder how the story of Sisyphus would shift if the number of times he needed to roll the boulder up the hill was limited. Rats in buckets of water slightly too tall to escape from live longer when they think their chance of escape is nonzero. They just keep swimming until they die from exhaustion.

I bought a shark ring on Etsy. It’s cute. I got it because sharks can’t stop swimming or they die. Swimming is breathing for them. So they swim forever. And that’s how I want to be. Just keep swimming. All of my concerns for the future are solved by continuing to move forward. Time cures all wounds. All pain and stress and worry drift away if you just keep moving forward. Even if the water is dark, and you don’t know what’s ahead. A shark would never stop.

I am pushing myself past exhaustion, it’s thrilling in the abstract. I get to accomplish so much. In the particular it is horrible. Something needs to go, you can never have it all at once. Every option is also a negation of the others, I have so many flowers to water and limited water.

I think I need to stop seeing the boy I’ve been seeing. It feels like I need to decide between his company or my company—my baby, my dent in the universe. Everything I’ve been working towards. I won’t forgive myself or him if I think he detracts from it at all, and it’s starting to seem like he will. Simply due to my own incompetence. My own stress about this. I wish I could balance it but I’m not a balanced person. I’m all or nothing. The guilt has contributed to the feeling of exhaustion currently burdening me.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I guess making these types of decisions is important for me to learn. Build the tolerance to make decisions that seem painful in the moment but are better for the long term. I’m not convinced this is the right decision though. I am worried i will regret it. Decisions are never binary. Maybe we will reconnect in the future? Maybe only if I’m able to handle this properly in the moment? Maybe I don’t need to do anything? We should probably just have a conversation. I’m going to take a shower. Ttyl.

[fenmere]

The rage of Sisyphus

One day, after a long bout of ignoring the man, Hades decides to check on Sisyphus to see how he's doing, whether he's suffering sufficiently or not.

And lo, he discovers that Sisyphus is resting! He's got the boulder half way up the hill, but he's stopped, with his shoulders against it like a miniature Atlas, with a slightly pained look on his face but humming a tune he made up. "What in my name do you think you are doing?" Hades asks him.

Trying not to look scared or sheepish, and doing a Herculean job of putting on a smug expression for the god, Sisyphus responds, "I've figured it out. I've finally solved the puzzle you gave me, dammit!"

"Go on."

"You know, the task you gave me was absolutely the worst torture."

"Yes, of course. That was at least the surface of the point."

Sisyphus blinks at him, trying to figure out what that means, but goes on, "And, you know, eons ago, before the human race finally died out, this guy Joseph Campbell postulated that people should imagine me happy with my task, walking down after your enchantment makes the boulder roll out of my grasp, supposedly smiling at the opportunity to push it back up again. And that asshole couldn't have been further from the truth. So many philosophers have come by after death to check on me. And that was pure torture, too. I hate you. But I figured it out, and you can't stop me by your own rules."

"Thank you for the compliments on my work," Hades says to him. "Please do elaborate, though. I do want to know what you think you're doing."

"Well, you know, you've set your enchantment up to make the boulder veer out of my grasp when it gets near the top, so that it rolls down again. And I finally figured out that if I take a while to get it near the top, it doesn't trigger the enchantment. I did this by trial and error, by the way. I just pushed it more and more slowly, occasionally taking breaks like this, too. Then I made the breaks longer and longer. And this is the longest one yet! It's over a hundred years old (I think)."

"Impressive!"

"And the cool thing is - and I learned this from a dead physicist who came by to taunt me on your instructions - is that I'm technically still pushing the boulder up the hill. I am exerting force. Pushing. Upward. It's just equal to the gravitational pull, so that there's an equilibrium and neither I nor the boulder get anywhere near the trigger point you've rigged."

"Fantastic!" Hades replies with genuine approval. "Well done." He nods and says, "Keep up the good work," as he turns to go, absolutely confusing Sisyphus, who expected the rules to be changed to make his situation worse.

But after two steps, Hades stops, then turns his head to look back at Sisyphus with a seemingly kind smirk on his face, and says, "You know..."

"What?"

"You could do the same thing at the bottom of the hill, meet the criteria and everything, only do less work. The boulder will have far less potential energy, and the grade of the hill is shallower there, so you wouldn't even really be holding up any of its weight. You could just lean on it."

"But -" Sisyphus blurts out.

Hades raises an eyebrow, turns, and walks away, without even a chuckle, leaving Sisyphus in utter shock.

[withlovewriting]

Mixed Drinks and Smoke Rings 3: Everyone’s Business

Chapter Three: Everyone’s Business

Well, even though I’m depressed I’m not sorry, I don’t wanna leave this bed at all, I’ve got a brick on my chest, And hell is gripping my legs, And there’s a demon, he’s 10 foot tall, But honestly,  He doesn’t seem like much of a threat, yeah.

Summary: New to town, you didn’t need a friend, you needed a dealer. Thankfully, a girl from your Narcotics Anonymous meetings knew just the guy.

Characters: Fezco (euphoria) x Non-descriptive Reader

Words: 4,542

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of addiction, very brief mentions of overdosing. Reader is also a lil bit of an asshole in this.

Series Warnings: Addiction, sexual themes, cursing, abuse (various), smut, drug use, teenagers being fucking idiots. 18+ only, minors DNI

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taglist: @iamasimpingh0e​

For the second time since you'd met you'd awoken on Fez's couch. The only difference was this time; he was there with you. Head back and mouth slightly ajar, this was the first time you'd seen him actually look somewhat peaceful. 

You pushed yourself up on shaky arms, brow furrowed as you looked around the room. You were drowsy and wanted nothing more than to go to bed and sleep for 12 hours. Unfortunately, your shuffling awoke Fez, who sat himself up quickly, eyes connecting with yours immediately. 

Once convinced that you were not, in fact, dead, he settled a little more, leaning back onto the couch, "Wasn't sure you were gonna make it."

"Was I that bad?" You questioned, voice raspy where your throat was so dry. If Fez told you that you'd run through the Mojave Desert last night eating sand, you'd have taken every word as gospel.

Rubbing his hand over his eyes, Fez tried in vain to wake himself up, "That shit is bad enough; you ain't supposed to mix it. 'Specially not with benzos."

Letting yourself lay back down -- your frail arms no longer able to hold up your weight -- you sighed, "Don't think I had much choice."

"I told you, you shouldn't have been here. Guys like Mouse... Shit, they don't fuck around, you get me?" When you didn't reply, Fez tried a different approach, "How you feelin' now?"

"Honestly... Still pretty fuckin' blissful."

Hearing him sigh in defeat, you couldn't help but feel bad. The guy -- drug dealer or not -- had been minding his own damn business when you'd wrecking ball-ed your way into his life. 

Your life choices up until this point hadn't been great, and this wasn't the first time your shitty decisions had dragged someone down with you... But it seemed you just couldn't help the collateral damage during your self-destruction.

You were happy enough to sabotage your own life, destroying it with one stupid fucking decision after another but once again, you'd dragged someone else along for the ride. Someone who wasn't exactly a willing participant. Shit, you didn't even fucking know the guy.

"I am so fucking sorry, Fez."

He was silent for a moment as if he was rehashing the night, deciding whether or not your apology was genuine. Eventually, though, he released another sigh and turned his head towards you, "Shit, ain't nobody know it was gonna go down like that. I'm just glad you're not dead."

Part of you wished you felt the same.

Taking in his features, you thought he looked older than he was. Not in a 'more mature' way, but more so in a 'Sisyphus rolling a boulder up a hill repeatedly for the rest of eternity' way.

You knew he was a 20-something-year-old high-school dropout. Rue had told you as much. Something about his Grandma being the drug pin of East Highland, before Fez -- and Ash -- took over. 

She'd never told you why, just shrugged her shoulders and continued to her class.

"Why was you here last night?" He asked, voice low and husky.

The memories of your fight with your father flooded your brain, and you had to swallow down the lump in your throat, "Just shit going on at home, you know. Needed something to take my mind off it."

"Shit... Got more than you bargained for there."

"Yeah, next time I might just go for a run instead."

The small rumble of laughter that left Fez's lips made your own pull up into a bashful grin. Had you ever heard him laugh before? 

Fez pushed his chest out slightly, rotating his neck as he tried to work out the kinks, "You didn't have to stay out here with me."

"Can't really tell if someone's ODing from down the hall." He countered, resting one arm over the back of the couch, the other gently resting over your blanket-clad legs. 

A little while later when your legs were finally able to carry your own weight -- though you were walking like Bambi on ice -- you followed Fez down the hallway and back to his room. Fez pointed out the bathroom as you passed, but mentioned nothing of the other door that was slightly ajar. 

Trying your best to not appear nosy, you peeped in as you passed, but you couldn't see much. Fez picked up your shorts and hoody, handing them to you with a slight frown. Whilst the bottoms had dried out overnight, the hoody was still damp because of the thick cotton.

He was about to leave, ready to give you some privacy, when he turned to his drawers, pulling out a green jumper. After throwing it at your head -- knowing damn well you wouldn't have your normal reflexes -- he made his way towards the kitchen.

Forgoing your damp hoody for his soft forest green jumper, you tried your best not to snuggle down into it. Sure, it was California and it wasn't exactly cold in September, but the chill from the previous evening's rain had settled in your bones, leaving its mark.

After dressing and using his bathroom, you finally made your way back down the hallway, noting Ash sat on the couch, eating cereal and watching cartoons.

"Shit, so you are still alive."

You sent him a tight smile, nodding your head. You didn't fully remember what happened last night, at least not after taking Fentanyl. It was all a little foggy; like everything was in slow motion. If you were completely honest, it felt fucking beautiful.

"Yeah, sorry about last night."

Ashtray watched you for a moment, then simply shrugged his shoulders and continued shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth, "How you gonna pay him back?"

It took a moment for you to register what Ash meant, eyes widening as you turned your attention to Fez, "He made you pay for that shit? I'm so fuckin' sorry."

"Yeah well, Mouse is a cunt. I couldn't not spot you, you get me?"

Although unaware of the situation that could've occurred last night had Fez not had your back, you felt guilty. Sure, Fez was a drug dealer, but he seemed like a pretty decent guy, just trying to make money and live his life like anyone else in the world. And you were a stranger to him. Nothing more, nothing less. He didn't owe you shit.

"Fez don't spot no one. How you gonna pay up?"

You could ask your father, but his answer would depend entirely on his mood and level of sobriety. Which -- just like yours -- hadn't exactly been great recently. Like father, like daughter, right?

"I uh... I can help out at the store?"

"We don't employ junkies," Ash grumbled, placing his bowl on the coffee table.

 "He's right," Fez sighed before holding the palms of his hands out towards you when your eyebrow shot up, "Not about the junkie thing but... Having someone who does drugs selling drugs... That shit ain't smart for business, you feel me?"

Exhaling sharply, your glare bore into both brothers, "I didn't mean that part of it. I meant the legal side."

The two brothers were silent for a moment as they exchanged looks that you couldn't even begin to read. Ashtray rolled his eyes before grabbing his bowl and putting it in the sink, seemingly giving Fez his blessing.

The older brother turned to you, "Fine. Come in this evening-"

"I actually have plans until like, 8pm." You interrupted him, sending an apologetic smile his way when he frowned, "Narcotics Anonymous. I kinda can't miss it..."

You heard a laugh escape Ash, and honestly... You couldn't blame him. You were attending the meetings, sure. But like hell were you implementing anything that they tried to teach you. You weren't sober, and you had no intentions of being so any time soon.

"OK. Well, we're open late. Meet me after. I'll get you set up."

Fez offered you a lift home, knowing your body was still coming down from the Fentanyl, and motioned for you to go wait in the car. 

As he packed up the drugs he'd purchased from Mouse, ready to take them to the store and wash his hands with the memory of the previous night, Fez heard Ash tut. Continuing to pack his bag, Fez side-eyed the boy, "You got no fuckin' manners bro, you know that?"

Ash eyed him up and down, an unimpressed expression settled on his face, "And you got no fuckin' game, bro. You know that?"

Ash turned on his heels, making his way to his room to get dressed, leaving his brother to watch him go, brows pinched together.

The ride home was quiet enough; Fez put some music on low and you were thankful that it drowned out the silence, and hopefully prevented any further conversations.

You felt like shit, the effects of the Fentanyl wearing off, leaving your body weak and your mind a little groggy, and to top it all off, you now owed Fez a shit ton of cash.

As he pulled up outside your house, he sighed, rubbing his hand over his head, "You gonna be 'aight getting to the store tonight?"

Turning, eyes widened as you peered at him, you merely nodded, "Yeah, it's cool."

As you made your way towards the front door, you could hear Fez's car still rumbling behind you as he waited for you to enter the house before he drove off. You could only hope that the engine noise didn't disturb your father, who was most likely passed out on the couch after a long night of doing fuck all but drowning his sorrows.

"The fuck you been?"

Because of course, life couldn't just give you a break.

Making your way past him and towards the kitchen, you tried to keep your wobbly legs strong, "Just stayed with a friend."

He hummed in reply, before passing you and grabbing himself a mug, filling it with coffee, "Well, let me know next time. I was worried."

As he made his way toward the stairs, every fiber of your body was tempting you, begging even, to scream at him, tell him to go fuck himself. That he wasn't worried, that he never cared. But the guilt welded your mouth shut, dragging your words back down your throat, holding them tightly in your chest, and leaving you with a weight that could drown you.

Because your father did care. Just... Only sometimes. When it benefited him, or when he was able to stay sober for more than a few days.

And that's why you remained loyal to him, despite the neglect and abuse. Because sure, he was a grade-A cunt when he was drunk. But when he was sober? He was a different man.

When you were younger, he'd take you out for ice cream, to the park, to the zoo... Anything your heart desired. You had been enrolled in one of the best private schools on the East-coast, and as you got older, your father paid for piano lessons and art classes... Life was pretty fucking great. You were privileged, and you knew it. Unfortunately, at the time, you also fucking acted like it. You know what they say, though. 

The higher you climb, the further you fall.

And shit did it feel like you hit every god damn branch on the way down.

"Hi, I'm Rue and I've been clean for 60 days."

Forcing your lips into a firm, straight line, you thought it was a little hypocritical of you to laugh. You weren't all that different, were you?

So instead, you kept your face stoic and clapped along with everyone else, listening as Rue told her story to the room.

"The hardest bit has been... Feeling like I owe it to myself. And, maybe that'll get easier. I hope it will. Thank you."

Rue walked back to her seat -- the chair in front of yours -- and settled back in with a sigh.

"60 days? Well done, Rue." 

She turned in her chair, but her eyes darted everywhere except at you as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Leaning forward, you placed your hand on her shoulder, offering her a small, genuine smile, "Really Rue. No matter how long it's been... Well done."

You'd spoken a little in school, and she had introduced you to a few of her friends. She'd mentioned one lunch that she had remained sober for a little while now. 

You made your way over to the table where Rue and Jules sat, both chatting as they looked at the latter girl's phone.

Placing your tray on the table, you opened your mouth ready to complain about the day-old, hard pizza you'd just paid for when Jules' phone was thrust into your face.

The image was blurry at first, and you had to push the girl's arm away a little to be able to see it. You took a moment, eyebrows furrowed and eyes darting between the picture, and Jules, the girl looking at you smugly, "Is this, or is this not, a huge dick?"

"Fucking hell, Jules. It's too early to be showing me pictures of people's dicks."

Rue smirked as Jules huffed, rolling her eyes and shoving the picture in your face once more after you'd sat down, "It's like 1pm. Now... Big dick, right?"

You sighed, sending the girl an exasperated look before peering back at the photo, "Uh, yeah. Sure. Big dick... Why is there an Evian bottle in the picture?"

"Size reference," Rue shrugged before taking a sip of her drink.

Jules continued grinning down at her phone, seemingly distracted by a text. Turning your attention to Rue, you sent her a small smile, "You look good, Rue."

"Oh, uh. Thanks. Probably due to the lack of illegal substances flowing around my body."

Placing a hand over hers, you squeezed it once reassuringly, "Well, whatever you're doing... It's a good look on you."

You'd left pretty soon after Jules asked Rue to help her with something top secret, throwing your pizza in the bin as you passed.

"Two weeks," She mumbled, her voice croaky as she sent you a feeble smile.

"That's fucking great, Rue." Patting her on the shoulder, your attention was quickly pulled to the front of the room as the speaker called your name, a gentle smile on her plump lips as she offered you the stage.

"Uh, no. I'm good for now, thanks." Sending her back your own strained grimace.

Feeling your chair jolting forward slightly, you turned as the man's smooth voice filled your ears, "Seems like you got a lot to say today. You sure you don't wanna take a turn?"

Sending the man a stern glare, you moved your chair back to its original position, hoping to hit his knee or land on his toe... Whatever. "I said I'm good, Ali. Drop it."

To anyone who had attended these meetings for long enough, they would know that you've spent almost every session sitting in your normal chair -- not too far in the back, but nowhere near the front. You liked being in the middle of the ocean of people. You were less noticeable there -- sitting quietly until the end of the meeting. You clapped along with everyone else, sipped coffee from the polystyrene cups, and made small talk with the other attendants, but you'd be damned if you’d open your mouth and tell them anything about your life.

You were here solely to keep people off your back. To look like you were trying, and if those people were unaware that you'd walk home smoking a blunt, or pop a few pills before you'd pass out and finally get some sleep... Then that was their problem.

Ali had given you space for a while, watching from afar whenever you'd decline to share your story. At first, he'd thought maybe you were just shy, embarrassed, even. But it didn't take long for him to realize you were just full of shit.

You made your way out of the building with Rue, the girl quietly speaking as you took a sip from your hot coffee, hissing slightly as it burned your lip. She was planning to head home, and you had a moderately short walk to the store to meet Fez. You weren't sure what you could do there at this time, but if it meant paying him back every dollar, you'd mop the floors until sunrise.

"Yo, 60 days... No small feat."

"Thanks." Rue began to unlock her bike as Ali continued to ask her questions. About her overdose... About her sister.

You were ready to head out -- you'd put up with Ali's shit for long enough, Rue was on her own for this one -- but the man pulled out a cigarette box, holding it out to you. Though he was someone you purposely tried not to interact with, he could read you like a book sometimes.

Taking one, you barely listened to him drone on at Rue. Ali Muhammad, the man with the almighty mouth! 

Shaking your lighter a few times, it flickered before burning out, and you knew you'd have to get another one. Accepting Ali's -- who had barely stuttered during his speech to Rue whilst he held it out -- you inhaled deeply, letting the smoke sit on your chest for a moment.

You watched as he handed Rue a card that you had been all too familiar with, "Let me know when you want to stop trying to kill yourself and eat some pancakes."

Leaning back against the wall, he waited for Rue to unchain her bike, telling her as she turned to you, "She's good, we need a word."

As if he had provided the last piece of the puzzle your dad had given you before, you squeezed your eyes closed and huffed, head tilted towards the sky, "Shit. Not you. Anyone but you."

A fucking sponsor.

"Sorry, girl. Your father rang me, thinks it would be a good idea. We both do."

"I already see enough of you twice a week, I don't need to add to that."

Ali chuckled, blowing the smoke out of his mouth and towards the sky as you watched him. "This shit is hard, I get it. Getting sober was damn near the hardest thing I've ever had to do. But to get there you gotta start somewhere, and it's always easier having someone in your corner who's been through the same kind of bullshit you have-"

"-You don't know what bullshit I've been through-"

"-And I'm not gonna force you to tell me. That's your private shit, I get it. But having someone to talk to can do a world of good."

Giving you a card -- you'd already had three stashed away at home, and you were now certain that was where your father had found his contact details -- he made his way back inside, leaving you to stare at the stupid, white card, before shoving it in your pocket and beginning your walk.

"You get many people this late at night?" You inquired, pushing a heavy carton full of drinks across the floor with your foot until you got to the right fridge.

"Nah, but we get the restock out the night before, saves doing it between customers."

"So it's just you in the day?" You propped open the fridge, using your hip to keep it open as you bent over, grabbing a few of the bottles and putting them in their place.

Fez watched you from a distance, sitting on the table next to the cash register, "Yeah, til Ash gets outta school. You in Rue's grade?"

"Nah, senior." You finally closed the fridge door, wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead.

"How was the meeting?"

Shrugging a single shoulder, you grabbed the plastic packaging and rolled it into a ball, making your way back to Fez's side and throwing it in the small bin by his legs, "It was fine. Saw Rue there again, seems like she's doing well."

"Yo, can I ask you somethin'? But like, I don't want you to get mad..."

Leaning against the red racking that homed the bags of share-sized chips, you cocked a brow, silently allowing him to go on.

"Why'd you go to the meetings, if you ain't staying sober? Like, ain't that the whole point of 'em?"

You watched him for a moment, trying to process the politest way to tell him to mind his own damn business. Instead, you settled with "You know, you're either the worst or best dealer I've ever met."

Fez watched you as you grinned at him, but he could tell the smile was for show, "Whatchu mean?"

"You're a dealer, do you really wanna get involved in your client's rehabilitation? Do you want them to get sober?"

Fez was quiet for a moment, thinking over his answer. Just as you turned, ready to grab some more stock, his voice stopped you, "Some of 'em, yeah. Rue, for one."

Your fingers fiddled with the handle of another fridge, this one needing to be stocked with beer, "You and Rue... You close?"

"Yeah man, Rue's family."

"And you want her to get sober?"

"I don't want her to die, so yeah..."

"Yet, you're still dealing to her? Makes no sense to me."

You didn't mean to sound so rude, but you were yet to meet a drug dealer who actually gave a shit about someone he was supplying. Because as soon as Rue stopped buying, that was one customer less for Fezco. Yet the longer he did supply her with drugs, the worse she was going to get. 

Fez remained silent, his eyes vacant as he seemed lost in his thoughts.

After a while of watching you potter about, becoming accustomed to the layout of the store, Fezco was ready to shut up shop when a truck's engine grabbed his attention. It was the only customer he'd had in a while, and, of course, it was right as he was about to close.

"What's up, Fez?"

Fez knew who it was as soon as the guy had entered the store, watching him in the convex mirror.

"Sup." He responded with his usual nonchalant tone.

Nate stopped, halting for a moment as you bent over to grab the last pack of beer before scooting around you, his hand brushing past your lower back as you stood up.

The aisle wasn't the widest, but it was wide enough to keep his hands to himself, Fez thought as he watched Nate send you a disarming smile, 

"Sorry, just uh... Need to get in here."

A small 'Oh' was released from your lips as you quickly side-stepped further away from him, allowing him space to open a fridge door and grab a bottle of water from it,

"Thanks. Hey, uh... Aren't you new here? I haven't seen you around much."

Sending him a small, but friendly smile back, you nodded, "Been here a couple of weeks now."

His eyes lit up with recognition as he looked over you, "Oh yeah, shit. Didn't you go to McKay's party? I remember something about a new girl almost OD'ing on the couch?"

You wanted to correct him, tell him that whilst yes, it was stupid to take two pills whilst drinking, you were far from overdosing. Shit, you were just tired. You didn't know who had started the rumor, nor why, but you’d heard the whispers around school just as much as Nate had. Instead, you kept your smile in place, keeping it wide and innocent,

"Yeah, I guess that was me. Hey... Aren't you the guy whose girlfriend fucked another guy in the pool in front of like... everyone?"

You could feel Fezco's eyes on you from the register where he was still perched, unsure whether or not he needed to step in. To say the air was filled with a thick, uneasy tension would be an understatement.

It was Nate's dark eyes that held you captive at that moment as you refused to back down from his staring competition. His smile dropped, and your eyes darted to his throat, watching as he struggled to swallow a lump that had formed in his throat, but as quickly as it had disappeared, his smile was once again plastered over his face.

Only this time, it was much more sardonic, "I mean, we were broken up at the time. But yeah. Guess that's me, too."

His eyes washed over you, taking in your whole body from head to toe as if you amused him in some way that you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't condescending, but it was... something.

Nodding his head at you, Nate made his way to the register, placing the bottle of water down next to where Fezco had sat, fishing for his wallet as he ignored the other man's eyes on him,

"Some rolling papers too, man."

"That'll be $2.50, playboy."

After Nate had left -- Fez closing the shutters behind him -- you'd both remained quiet for a while. He counted up the cash in the register, locking it away as he watched you from the corner of his eye.

"You uh, you never told me why you still go to those meetings."

"You never told me how much you paid Mouse."

"And you never told me how you got that cut on your head."

It was like a dick swinging contest. You knew he'd meant it to come off as nothing more than polite conversation, something to ease the tension that had been left in the wake of Nate Jacobs. But it had been a long day, and you were tired of people trying to stick their nose in your business.

First your father, then Ali and Nate, now Fez.

You turned around abruptly, eyes sharp as you failed to hold your tongue, "Listen, Fezco. I'm really grateful you're letting me pay you back by working here, and I'm still not sure why you've been so nice to me, but I don't need nice. I don't need your pity."

He couldn't lie, your tone cut him a little. He'd been nice enough -- perhaps a little too nice -- and whether that was for your sake, Rue's sake, or simply because he was brought up with a lot of respect for women, he couldn't be sure.

Either way, your tirade had caught him a little off guard, "Go the fuck home then. We're done here 'til tomorrow anyway."

It was a little before midnight when you stormed across the small car park, ready for the long walk home. Fez had turned off the lights and locked up, already halfway to his car when he shouted to you,

"Ay, get the fuck in the car, I ain't letting you walk your ass home alone at this time."

Fez couldn't be sure why he'd offered to drive you home that night, even after you'd been a bit of an asshole.

And when he'd finally pulled up outside your house, you'd wished he never offered in the first place.

[ladylillianrose]

Lenny Scenes/Appearances Seasons 1-4

Did I make a list of all the times Lenny appears? Why yes, yes I did. I included some of my favorite quotes from the moments, basically what my brain refers to the scenes as.

Season 1:

1x01

Blonde Midge sees Lenny at a strip club with Joel:

“These kids...8 and 9-year-old... were sniffing airplane glue to get high on. These kids are responsible for turning musicians on to a lot of things they never knew about, actually.”

In the back of the Police Car when Midge get’s arrested:

“Yeah, yeah. You can bitch all about it to your friend in the back seat there" “HEY! HEY! HEY!” “Hey” “Hi.”

Midge Bails Lenny Out:

"Leonard, you can either eat a guy's head, or do two weeks at the Copa, I'd say "Pass the fucking salt." It's a terrible, terrible job. It should not exist. Like cancer. And God.

1x02

Lenny comes back for cab fare:

“And next up in a night full of triumphs, uh, Honey forgot to tell the cabdriver to turn the meter off. He's up to 20 bucks and refuses to get paid in weed, so I was wondering if maybe you...”

Offers to help Midge find a lawyer:

“My advice, be your own lawyer.”

1x03

Lenny bails Midge out of Jail:

“I was working down the street, heard some cute uptown chick got arrested doing a set. I put two and two together.”

Meets up at Diner with Susie: 

“I have to appear in court.” “Oh, what's more fun than that? - A late-in-life bris, that's more fun.”

Village Vanguard Jazz Club:

“Two for me.” “We're talking about getting arrested.” “Yeah.” “For jaywalking or something?” “Profanity. Indecent exposure.” (Lenny looks proud)

Midge impromptu set while high: 

“Is Lenny Bruce boring at home? Like, at home is he all, "Have you seen my red socks?" And then he comes on stage and he's all, "I'm gonna put a little airplane glue on a rag and fuck, shit, cock, prick."

Post-Vanguard Jazz Club:

“Was I supposed to make a pass at you?”

1x08

Susie asks Lenny to do the Gaslight for Midge:

 “Don't do it for me. Do it for Midge.” “Midge?” “Yeah. Midge.” “Oh, Midge. Well, well, well. All hail the Upper West Side.”

Lenny does the Gaslight for Midge:

“I am doing what is unheard of in this business. It's called a very nice thing.” 

“So, indulge me, because I think she's going to be very big and she's a hell of a lot easier on the eyes than I am.”

Season 2:

2x01

Continuation of Gaslight:

“Will Elizabeth Taylor become Bar Mitzvah'ed? No, I promise continuity, I'll behave myself. I'll do all the lines that we rehearsed."

2x05

Midge takes Benjamin to see Lenny's show:

"Who's here?" "You're not gonna believe me, you're gonna think I've been drinking." "All right, who's here?" "Christ and Moses."

“Uh, this table is on me. Buy her a soda. And have her home by 10:00.”

Benjamin and Midge at the Diner:

“So Lenny Bruce?” “We did not.” “Had to ask.”

2x10

Talk in the bar after Midge gets pulled offstage:

“Sometimes, I think, "Is it worth it?" And, sometimes, I think, "No." I'm Sisyphus, without the fabulous hair and the loincloth, pushing that boulder up that hill over and over and over.”

“Want me to come stand outside your playdate?” “You are lovely. Yes, a little moral support never hurts.” “Okay.” “I want you to know that I am feeling...a little emasculated right now. I don't really mind it, actually. Sunday night 8-o’clock. Bring an umbrella”

Steve Allen Show:

 “It's all right, Perry. She's my mother.” “You didn't leave my name. Perry's having a heart attack.”

“I finally got rid of her.” “How'd you do that?” “She left me.”

“All Alone”

Season 3:

3x01

Flowers sent to Midge (Lenny not actually in this scene):

"Dear Upper West Side, thank you for bringing your umbrella. I'm at The Den Friday and Saturday night if you feel like dropping by. If not, I'll see you next time I'm in town. Lenny.”

Abe goes to see Lenny’s set "Miss December" both get arrested:

“Listen to the man, he's wearing two sweaters.”

Gets bailed out by Abe and Rose:

“You bailed me out?” “Yes. Well, she” “I bailed you out.” “Okay. Thanks.” “I thanked him for the flowers.”

3x05

Midge at the bar:

“You know, it's weird, I never picture you living anywhere. You just exist.” “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I do live places, and right now, it's here. I got a key, I get mail, I wear an apron.” “Must go good with that tie.” “I heard Shy was in town, so I thought I would stop by and say hello. Hello. Good-bye.”

“3:00 in the afternoon a pen, a notebook and a drink. All you need is a social disease, and you are officially a road comic.”

Picks Midge up after her set:

“I am very famous and important.” “Mr. Bruce is my mother.”

Miami After Dark:

“But actually, Brye, I'm here with someone special tonight. Someone I love dearly, almost as much as I love myself. Uh uh, sweetheart? Where are Ah, there you are.”

“Brye, I'd like you to meet my wife or possibly my sister. What are you, my wife or my sister?” “Depends on what state we're in.” “Let's go, wife. What the hell?”

Loco Amore:

“You're still staring.” “So are you.” “Come on. We're gonna dance.” “You dance?” “Well, we're certainly gonna find out.”

Lenny’s Hotel:

“I really thought if we stayed long enough, there'd be a human sacrifice.” “Oh, no, that's on Wednesdays.” “Well, we'll just have to go back.” “Anytime you like.” “I had a good time.” “That was the intent.”

“Hey. Maybe someday.Before I'm dead.” “It’s a date.”

Season 4:

4x03

Lenny shows up at the Wolford:

“You want me to go away?” “Yes.” “Because I would make you nervous.” ‘You would make me nervous. Don't smile. Bad smile.”

“No. This isn't Bellmore.” “Everything is Bellmore.” “Mrs. Maisel. Time to start the show.” “I think it's time to start the show.” “Fine. Stay. But do not sit where I can see you.” “Oh, now I'm definitely gonna sit where you can see me.” “Shit.”

Lenny and the fellas throw everything but the kitchen sink at Midge during her set.

4x05

No appearance on screen but Midge stops the cab to get him where he's passed out on the sidewalk:

 “Wait. Wait, stop.” “What?” “Pullover. Shit.”

4x06

Lenny wakes up in Midge’s apartment and is a hot mess:

“Well, last night, I was driving home from the club, and I saw you passed out on the ground. I tried to ask you where you were staying, and you said, "Nice hair."”  “I said, "Nice hair"?”  “No, but for the sake of our friendship, let's stick with "hair."”

“Hey. Drama queen.”

“You do know you're acting like a child, right?” “Of course, I'm acting like a child. I'm a comedian.”

“We discuss debauchery and pornography. We make jokes about dictators coming over for dinner. Ten minutes on how Stalin likes his steak. We don't wear aprons and discuss potty training.”

4x07

On the Gordon Ford tv show promoting Carnegie Hall:

“So, Carnegie Hall, you nervous about filling the place?” “Not until about three seconds ago, Gordy, no.” “Yeah, but you don't have performance anxiety anymore, do you, Lenny?”

“Folks, this is Lenny Bruce. Asking you to please, please come to my show at the hall they call Carnegie. My self-esteem is at risk here. A less-than-sold-out show would shatter my fragile ego and hurt something very dear to the lawyers of America, my bank account.”

4x08

Apology at the strip club post-Midge's set:

“I am suddenly important enough for redecorating. Please be impressed.” “I am impressed.”

“So I talked you up. Told them you do swell heart attack humor.”

Police Raid/Run to the hotel:

“My shoes, my feet. It's cold.” “You'd be terrible to go on the lam with, by the way.” “Can't you carry me?”  “Carry you?” “Yeah, you know, throw me over your shoulder.” “Who am I, Santa Claus? You're a young, strong woman. Here.”  “What do I do with this?” “Fill me in on what's going on with Castro and the rebels. Put it on your head.” “Where are you going?” “I have to get you to shelter.” “Aren't you gonna pay for the papers?” “It's a snowstorm.” “So what?” “The man has to make a living.” “How do you know? The newsstand could be a hobby.” “If I had my purse, I'd pay.”  “If I had your purse, I'd pay.” “Wh-what if there's a hell?” “Oh, I don't believe this.” “What if the rabbis are wrong and there is a hell and this is the moment our fate is decided?” “Believe me, honey, if there's a hell, I'm the headliner.”

Hotel Lobby:

“You hear that? "Mr. Bruce." You play Carnegie Hall, you get "Mr. Bruce."”

The Blue Room:

“I think there are many things about you men would find wildly attractive.”

“You are more important than God.” “You paid attention.” “To you? Always.”

“Midge?” “Yeah?” “I got to see the show corset.”

“Yep. Just like mine.”

“Nope.” “I’ll be right back.”

On the phone-“Are you kidding me? This is the textbook definition of a 'not a good time'"

“Now, get dressed. We'll go spring the riffraff, and then I'll take you for some truly terrible Chinese food, okay?”

Carnegie Hall:

“Is there anyone out there?” “I don't know, man. Go out there and look.” “No, I'm not gonna go out there and look.” “Does it matter? Will it change anything?” “It's fine. I'll just go out there and entertain whatever junkie wandered in from Times Square.” “Won't be the first time.”

“Usually, I go out with chicks that are between 30 and 40, because they're usually divorced and good and bitter, too, you know. But the hang-up is, where can you go at 7 in the morning? And every chick I know who's divorced has got a seven-year-old kid.”

Post Carnegie/Fight:

“Ah! Ha! There she is. Everyone, this is Midge Maisel. Mrs., to those in the know.”

“Okay. Let's put aside for a moment that I went to bat for you for that job. I mean, really, I turned down their price three times. "No, she can't work for that. Do you have any idea what you're getting here?" That's on me. You didn't ask me to do that, so I'm the schmuck there.”

“I'm at Carnegie Hall. I've got five minutes where maybe I can help you before I'm thrown out of the club again.”

“Jesus Christ, Midge. What a fucking pedestal you put me on. Getting arrested is not a badge of honor. Getting arrested means I can't work where I want to work. People are afraid of booking me.”

“I want people to fucking laugh. Think and laugh, sure, but laugh. I'm a comic. An entertainer. Baggy pants, banana peels. I'm not the stand-up messiah.”

“You wanted me to remember you're funny, right? That night? You didn't want me to think of you as just a girl. You wanted me to think of you as a comic. Well, don't you forget that I'm a comic, too. Don't you dare look at me as someone to be pitied or helped or fixed. I do not want or need that, especially from you.”

“If you blow this, Midge, I swear....you will break my f*cking heart.”

[solace-seekers]

may I see the Sisyphus modern au?

i hope you’re ready cause this is very much gonna be long (also how i depict the characters is based on my interpretation of their characters in the game Hades)

also, just to get this out of the way: than= thanatos, zag=zagreus, meg=megaera. also this was written from about midnight to 3 am so i might have to go back later to edit it to make logical sense but uh yea lets get into this

(i’m adding a keep reading thingy cause this is l o n g)

quick rundown of characters: thanatos is shy and reserved, extremely insecure, dresses like an absolute punk, all black and spikes but is an absolute sweetheart. not exactly one for many words

hypnos has that one sleep disorder I forget the name of where he’s basically always tired and it’s a legitimate medical issue.(i looked it up, its narcolepsy) he’s than’s twin but overall pretty loosey goosey go with the flow

megaera is an absolute badass. she is the type of person that could beat you up and you would try to apologize to her. She’s the oldest fury in myths and no one wants to mess with her cause she can and will fuck you up. protective

zagreus is a rebel. childhood friends with than, hates his father but hey he’s athletic. very adhd, emphasis on hyperactive. acts first thinks later. friendly rivals with meg. living embodiment of ‘bet’

sisyphus is the guy who in the myth cheats death by locking thanatos in his own godly chains. he was said to be really cunning. i made him a boastful prick because while in the game he’s not as so, i think that's because of the good chunk of time he spent continuously pushing the boulder up the hill. i stand by the fact that he was probably boastful as all hell when he trapped death.

modern au version of sisyphus: high school setting, than and zag go to different schools because of high school lines though they are in the same district. (my district has two separate high schools in the same district so this makes sense to me even though I know it’s not normal. basically they live really close but because of the zones drawn for which houses go to which high school, they ended up in different schools)

than and zag are both juniors(3rd year), hypnos is a junior(3rd year), meg is a senior(4th year) and sisyphus is a senior(4th year)

meg and zag go to the same school, than hypnos and sisyphus go to a different school

Sisyphus locks Thanatos in a janitor's closet as a joke but doesn’t let him out. Sisyphus ends up going to class and forgetting about it. than bangs on the closet but no one hears and he ends up being trapped there for two nights before someone finally finds him. (he was trapped in a minor janitors closet in a forgotten hallway, like y'know those closets that you swear only open once in a century that just exist in school? yea one of those) he’s obviously in really bad shape once he gets out but sisyphus lies his way out of trouble and than is too scared of a repeat event to say anything. 

than becomes really claustrophobic and overall afraid of the dark as a result of being trapped in a tiny dark closet for two days and genuinely thinking he was going to die. he had to spend time in the hospital being hydrated and slowly reintroduced to food because he was malnourished and severely dehydrated (can you get malnourished from not eating for two days? i don't know. does the word get my point across effectively though? yes)

zag never found out about the incident because the school kept it under wraps, than made Hypnos promise not to tell, and Nyx respects privacy.

Hypnos was incredibly concerned because his brother was missing and he practically didn’t sleep for two days, practically drowning in coffee in an attempt to fight his disorder. Nyx was equally as concerned but as she had to meet with Zagreus she didn’t show it. (idk what she does yet but some job that connects her to zag) 

Everyone thought than had simply skipped school despite it not fitting his personality because it fit his punk apparel.

later, zag becomes somewhat friends with sisyphus because of a common sport.(idk what sport yet) than is absolutely terrified of sisyphus but never says anything when zag talks about, he only goes quiet but quiet is normal for him.

then sisyphus starts to try and brag to zag and get zag to like him romantically. so he’s boasting and everything (and sisyphus does not know that zag knows than, but sisyphus does know that than is absolutely terrified of him) so sisyphus tells zag something along the lines that he got the schools biggest punk to be afraid of him. (zag is aware that sisyphus and than go to the same school but he doesn’t know how they are with each other, he just assumes they know each other in passing) zag obviously challenges him on it. sisyphus is all like “bet, he’s literally so terrified of me he runs out of the room every time i enter” and zag is kinda like “uh huh sure” so sisyphus is like i’ll show you. 

Thanatos works as a barista at a local coffee shop (The Beanpot) because he can help supply Hypnos (and himself) with coffee and because he likes the routine of it. megaera is than’s coworker most of the time because she similarly likes her coffee and likes how than can stick to a routine and they work very well together. 

Megaera and zag have a friendly rivalry going on. she also is aware that than and zag like each other even though they haven’t discovered it yet. her and than work well together. she has the job in part to avoid her annoying younger siblings. one time sisyphus came in for a drink and meg was working the counter. she noticed how than’s expression paled when he entered and she told him to go take a break, no questions asked. (the shop doesn’t really need two baristas but still has two just in case and to overall make it run smoother) after sisyphus left she went and found than freaking out in the break room. than explained the whole situation to her and made her promise not to try and get sisyphus in trouble because than was scared it would come at his own expense. they developed a deeper bond after that. meg basically declared than her baby junior and saves him whenever sisyphus comes in. (sisyphus only ever comes in when than’s working, purely to gloat)

sisyphus takes zag to the Beanpot and is like “watch, i’m gonna go in and he’s gonna go running to the back” so sisyphus walks in and than looks up and stills in shock. he doesn’t even notice zag, though zag can notice the way his eyes widen in fear, how his breath slightly picks up, how his skin seems to drop a shade. than mumbles about taking his break and dashes into the back. zag notices the death glare meg gives him as she makes her way to the counter. sisyphus turns to zag very smugly and zag kinda wants to punch him but he also wants to know the story first. so zags like “let’s just leave i don’t like coffee” (which is a complete lie) and when they move to a secondary location he’s like “how do i know that he wasn’t just embarrassed cause you guys fucked or something” and then sisyphus basically is like “nah, i locked him in a closet as a joke and he took it way too personally” like he’s very boastful about it and in the i-don't-see-anything-wrong-with-my-ways way. and now zag really wants to punch something but he refrains.

cause suddenly he’s thinking about how he tried to hang out with Thanatos on their weekly hangout night but than texted him that he couldn’t make it. and then during one of than’s classes the next day he also canceled plans. and how than, who normally tells zag very apologetically every time why he has to cancel, never told him why. (than didn’t have his phone in the closet, but hypnos texted zag from his phone because he knew it was what than would want, when than was recovering at the hospital he had his phone) and how for a bit of time after that he never even saw than at his work and than would respond to him when than was normally in class (and never texted unless it was near the end or beginning of the class and everyone was already packed up) and how nyx seemed stressed around the same time. (although she obviously tried to hide it) and he knows than, knows that than could only hold a grudge over something extremely serious. and overall he just has a bad feeling about it

so he asks sisyphus how long ‘the punk’ was in the closet. and sisyphus tries to dodge around it, but the more he dodges the more zag insists. eventually zag manages to weasel out of him that than was locked in there for two days, with sisyphus saying like “it wasn’t my fault!” “i just assumed he got out” “if he really wanted to get out he would’ve fought harder” (basically your normal bullshit victim blaming stuff)

zag is capital p Pissed. but not just at sisyphus. cause he wants to know why than or hypnos or nyx didn’t tell him. and he’s kind of really hurt because they kept it a secret. and he thinks meg knows too which just makes him more jealous. zag ditches sisyphus and goes back to the coffee shop. 

than notices him and lights up in the small insignificant than way. zag confronts him and he’s extra pissed and he half cusses than out. (meg went into the back to give them privacy) it hurts zag very badly to think that than almost died and he never even knew. and he’s so scared by the fact that than could’ve died. so his emotions are a mess and his anger is coming from a place of hurt. than didn’t really think zag would care about his situation but when he tells zag that, zag gets really pissed because of course he cares about than?? why wouldn't he???. eventually zag storms out, and than is extremely sad because he thinks that zag hates him

once zag calms down, he talks to nyx about the situation.  nyx admits that she felt bad about not telling him, but didn’t want to invade thanatos privacy and she tells him how than was embarrassed and extremely ashamed of the entire encounter. she implies that than thought zag would think lesser of him if than told the truth. zag starts to understand and though he’s still hurt he feels very bad for yelling at than and wants to apologize to him. 

than’s mental state goes downhill very fast. he’s able to keep it up to the end of his shift but after his shift it quickly deteriorates because he thinks zag sees him as weaker, that zag hates him and that he just lost his best friend. it doesn’t help that it’s dark out. so than basically ends up wandering around, sort of dissociating for a while after his shift until his mind comes back to him and he decides to go home because he doesn’t want to worry Nyx too badly and he’s overall very tired

when than goes home he’s very surprised to see zagreus waiting for him at the table, still awake. he half expects to get yelled at again, but instead zagreus rushes up to hug him and apologize. than is very surprised because zag doesn't hate him?? what???

but they talk it out and zag explains how he was just hurt/jealous and that he shouldn’t have yelled at thanatos but he was just scared because than could’ve died and zag overall just felt guilty. than is basically just extremely insecure and keeps repeating how he thought that no one would care and how scared he was and how weak he felt. somewhere in the mess of expressing their feelings, zagreus reveals that he likes than (he figured this out while sitting at the table waiting for him, texted meg and got a reply along the line of “no shit sherlock”) than becomes shocked and even more insecure but zagreus is quick to reassure him to the best of his ability, with words and also actions (than now has a permanent backpack and his name is zagreus) 

eventually they go upstairs to sleep (yes only sleep, sex isn’t for after emotionally draining conversations) and right before they both drift off, than tells zag that he likes him back. (than has had this figured out for a bit, but refused to believe that someone like zagreus could ever like him)

hypnos finds them in the morning (because turns out talking about your feelings until 5 am can make you sleep for a while) and he 100% sends a picture of them sleep cuddling to meg and nyx. before he 100% either goes back to bed or goes for more coffee. 

with support, than finally agrees in allowing legal measures to be attempted against sisyphus, not as scared because both than and meg ‘moved houses’ (changed their address to Nyx’s because it was barely a longer drive and they had cars) and were in than’s school and basically acting as his personal bodyguards at all times. 

zag officially hates sisyphus with his entire being. than and zag figure themselves out as boyfriends. nyx gets legal action against sisyphus with extra help from meg and hades himself. (basically think restraining order. he has to move high schools and he’s pretty shamed throughout the town which just leads to him moving to a different state to than’s relief) hypnos is happy for his brother and than starts to open up to him more. than gets a therapist! meg and than’s shifts run smoother and with lots of teasing. than is still not okay! he’s still claustrophobic and afraid of the dark and he’s still incredibly insecure and a lot of the time he doesn’t get what zagreus sees in him. but he works on getting better and that’s what counts.

that’s basically the end of it, though obviously if i actually write this i would flush out characters more with actions and words, i basically wrote most of this very speedily so its the broad strokes of the story. this is extremely long and idk how many people will read this, but i hope you liked my 3 am ranting!

[nicostolemybones]

Odd One Out

Tw: references of ableism, discussions of consent and boundaries (just to clarify there is not underage sex referenced implied or depicted as a result of this discussion so no worries)

Nico was always the odd one out. No matter what, there was always something about him, always a strike against him. Son of Hades. Immigrant. Gay. Neurodivergent. Disabled. That last one was a relatively new revelation for Nico- it wasn't like he hadn't noticed the pain, hadn't used being lazy or being in the underworld as an excuse for people to leave him alone on days where the pain was so bad he couldn't move- because he didn't want anyone to know. And he didn't want it to be real. All he had going for him was his ability to fight, his freaky powers that gave him the upper hand, his command over the dead. But some days he was in so much pain that he'd lay in bed and cry. Sometimes after using his powers he'd pass out asleep for far too long to be normal. And it was getting worse, because he'd been ignoring it.

It wasn't that he thought less of himself for it. Or that he was ashamed. It was the limitations. And sure, people loved to tell him that he could do anything and he was only limiting himself- but that wasn't true. Sure, today he could go and train with Percy. But he'd probably collapse in pain, potentially cause himself irreparable damage trying to push himself too far. He'd end up in the infirmary with Will having to sit him up whilst he cried out in pain, he'd be unable to stand because the pain would be so bad he couldn't physically load bare.

Simply: he had physical and mental limitations. And Nico was struggling to accept that. 

He was struggling to accept it because yesterday he was running around playing capture the flag, and this morning his hips felt like somebody had a cheese grater on his joints every time he moved, flaring with a sharp and dull burn. His body felt heavy and sore and he felt like he was suspended in a heavy raincloud- he barely had the strength to get up. He hadn't slept last night- he'd tried, but Nico suffered with insomnia. It wasn't abnormal for him to go several days unable to sleep, even with sleeping tablets. It also wasn't abnormal for Nico to flit in and out of long bouts of naps for two days straight unable to eat or move apart from to go to the bathroom. 

He was struggling to accept it because nobody else did.

Today he was using his walker. He'd already had a camper say he didn't need it because he was running just fine yesterday. He'd already had someone chastise him for using the disabled toilet because he wasn't really disabled. He'd already had someone tell him he was useless as a demigod. He'd already had someone say he wouldn't last long because natural selection would pick him off. Not disabled enough to deserve aids, too disabled to deserve respect. Not visibly disabled enough for people to accommodate his needs, too visibly disabled for people to not speak to him like he was an infant- or worse- ask someone else what was wrong with their friend whilst saying what a shame it is their friend is disabled. Nico wished the word used was disabled. Instead it began with an s. Then when Nico yelled at them the next word used against him began with an r. 

He went back to his cabin after that for a shower- he could feel his energy just draining away by the minute and his pain was worsening and he knew he'd probably be unable to shower comfortably soon. He knew he'd probably need his wheelchair for a few days. And he knew camp was absolutely fucking terrible to navigate in a wheelchair. Tables were too low or too high, the apparently flat ground was bumpy and he kept almost tipping out every time he hit a bump, uncut grass kept snagging in his wheels, he couldn't reach a lot of stuff, and the ramps- the ramps were so fucking steep Nico was practically sisyphus reborn but instead of pushing a boulder up a hill it was Nico trying to push himself up a goddamn ramp just to use the bathrooms. Unstoppable force meets immovable object. Nico was scrawny- strong yes, but malnourished and disabled. Pushing himself up those bumpy steep accessibility ramps made him want to tear the whole thing up and scream. And then the doors- wide enough for a wheelchair yes. But not wide enough when someone's arms are at the sides trying to push themselves through it. Nico's arms were so scraped and grazed already from the doors- which were heavy and did not stay open, trying to close and hitting him repeatedly, and then there was so little room to actually manoeuvre anywhere. Nico was losing his mind. And then his cabin- well that was just steps, of course he had to struggle up them.

So despite knowing he should probably use his chair today, he kept to his walker. He was in so much pain and he knew he should be in his cabin or in his chair but it was so much hassle at camp and any time he complained somebody was always there to tell him that camp was fully accessible for people with real disabilities. He was sick of it. Sick of people defining his disability, his accessibility, his capabilities, his limits- sick of people seeing his mobility aids as a burden to Nico. Because no, they weren't a burden to him. They were helping him to fucking move. He needed them and he wanted them. He didn't care if people kept telling him they were unattractive or how much more amazing his life would be if he just tried to walk. Bitch he didn't owe anything to anybody, he didn't have to put himself through pain just to be somebody's inspiration porn. And worse- whenever Nico called someone out, rather than apologising and listening, they'd wax poetic about how much of a good ally they were trying to help and how Nico was being ungrateful.

When Nico emerged from his shower, he was surprised to see Will Solace sitting on his bed- Nico blushed a little, but he was even more surprised to see his walker completely covered in yellow smiley face stickers. "Will?"

"I know people really suck," Will said, "and I know you feel like the odd one out and I know you get insecure because you're tired of everyone's bullshit. So I just- I wanted to remind you that it's all okay. Something to make you smile. Also I wanted you to know that I don't see your mobility aids as ugly or tragic like they all think I do. And I like putting stickers on all my favourite things and- your walker helps you to be in less pain and that's important to me. I don't care if it's bulky or if it's always in our photos. It's a part of you, kind of, and I love and accept all of you, and I hope the stickers don't come across as me trying to improve the walker and make it less ugly and if it does let me know so I can apologise and stuff…" Will trailed off, glowing nervously, in a way that Nico found endearing.

"Thank you," Nico said softly, "for trying to cheer me up, for not- treating me like a burden- for always trying to make me feel like I'm worthy of love."

"You are, Nico," Will said softly, "you're a person, a good person, you deserve to be respected and loved and you deserve the world, okay? And I can't give you the world but I can be cheesy and put my favourite stickers on your stuff to try make you smile. And maybe think of me when you feel sad and you look down at the floor. Because then when you're sad and you look down on the floor you'll see the happy smiley stickers and that's me reminding you that I love you and accept every part of you and assholes can fuck off and shut up. I know a few stickers won't fix everything but I hope it at least makes you feel less alone."

"Will…" Nico knew his angsty demeanor was completely melting. He could feel the heat in his cheeks. 

"I'm sorry if I'm not helping very much…"

"You fucken dork," Nico smiled, making his way to Will. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetcheeks."

"Call me that again and I'll rip your face off," Nico laughed.

"Sure thing. Sweetcheeks." Nico laughed. If Nico was uncomfortable with a pet name, he'd always say so, seriously. He'd communicated this with Will- threats were playful banter in response to cheesy nicknames, and meant he was okay with them. Will knew Nico wasn't uncomfortable and trusted that Nico would communicate if he was. Will rested his hands on Nico's hips, and Nico moved them up to his waist instead. "Sorry," Will said sheepishly, "is that a no-go always or just right now?"

"I'm not sure, Nico answered honestly, "I just felt a little uncomfortable because your hands were so close to my ass and my junk. I think maybe I'd be okay with you holding my hips when I'm not on edge, but wait until I give you the okay to do so? I'll move your hands where I want them to be."

"Of course, I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable." Nico leaned down to kiss Will softly, and Will still looked guilty. 

"Will, I'm not upset. You haven't crossed my boundaries. I trust you. I know that if you get handsy I can just push you away and I know we'll always talk about it. Relax and kiss me. I'm grumpy and I want to be carried to campfire later."

"You mean you want to feel my muscles whilst I carry you?"

"Shut up," Nico blushed, letting his fringe fall over his face, "but yes. I have a gorgeous boyfriend, why wouldn't I take the time to appreciate that once in a while?"

"I'm jealous of your boyfriend," Will joked, and Nico snorted. 

"Fucking dork. Wanna make my day and take me out for lunch?"

"Of course I do! But out of curiosity how much do my chances of kisses-"

"Sleaze," Nico joked.

"I'm kidding, Neeks. Even if I didn't ever get kisses I'd still love you and go out with you. You don't owe me kisses."

"I know," Nico smiled, "I trust you and your self control."

"What about my intentions?"

"Will. You're a teenage boy. So am I. Of course I don't trust your intentions," Nico joked, and Will snorted and glowed.

"Okay okay I want so badly to tell you you're wrong," he giggled, followed by "but seriously. My intentions are to make you happy, not to get in your pants. I mean I won't deny that my mind is very familiar with being in the gutter but I respect you and your body and your consent and your worth as a person. My dirty mind is my responsibility not yours. We're kids, casual dates and kisses are more than enough."

"Will, I love you and I know this," Nico smiled, "It's okay to joke about these things and have these feelings. I don't feel pressured by you at all. It's fun getting you all flustered and riled up. But I do appreciate that you always respect me and I do appreciate that you always clarify that I'm enough. But we've already had these serious talks, it's okay to joke about and talk about it. It's kinda flattering. You're my boyfriend. I'm comfortable with your feelings for me and I'm comfortable enough with you to know how much you respect me and love me."

"Does this mean I can stare at that ass in training?"

"Will. Do you really think I'm not purposely teasing you when you come to watch me train? With the tight leggings and my hair in a bun? Taking my top off?"

"Wait what." Will was staring, dumbfounded. He was bright red to the tips of his ears and glowing. Nico smirked. He liked teasing Will. 

"I know you like it," he admitted, "consider it my treat."

"Neeks you don't have to put yourself on display and wear things for my benefit, my feelings are my respo-"

"Will. Shush. I know you're being respectful and I love that about you but have you thought that I like knowing I make you feel like that? I do it because I want to. Not because you'd like me to. But I like flustering you. I love it when you finally allow yourself to stare at me and you have to excuse yourself. It's fun, it's harmless. We're not crossing any boundaries by flirting. You're allowed to like my body. You don't make me uncomfortable and I'd say if you did. Relax. I like it when I catch you staring at me. When you're eager to kiss me. It makes me feel wanted. I like feeling sexy and wanted. I like knowing that my boyfriend finds me attractive. This is your permission to shamelessly stare at me and think about me. I know you won't cross my boundaries or make me uncomfortable or try to rush our relationship until we're old enough. You're a perfect gentleman but Will please be at least a little selfish sometimes? You can stare at me and you can ask for kisses. It's okay to be needy. It's okay to want kisses. It's okay to want- well, me, things, relationship stuff! I know you're trying to make sure I'm comfortable and happy. But Will. For gods sakes that doesn't mean you gotta act like a monk or something. It isn't a bad thing to be selfish and ask for kisses. You don't need to feel guilty for wanting to kiss your boyfriend. You don't have to wait for me. Just kiss me. Just grab me in the mornings and pull me behind the infirmary and pin me against the wall kiss me silly. Just pull me close of an evening and kiss me slow and hot just the way you like it. I'd tell you if I wasn't in the mood for kisses."

"O-okay!" Will looked like a very radioactive tomato. His blotchy red blush was reaching down his neck and he was glowing like crazy.

"Well?"

"Well w-what?"

"You're dense, Solace," Nico huffed, yanking Will to his feet and kissing him hard. "Kiss me and don't hold back. I trust you won't take it too far."

"O-okay! Yes! I can totally do that! The kiss of your life-"

"Will, stop being adorable! Shut up and kiss me like you mean it-" Will seemed to finally get the message and engage his last brain cell, and gods, Nico could die like this, because Will was a filthy kisser, and gods, Nico loved it. 

Nico didn't feel like the odd one out with Will. Instead, Will made him feel like he was his whole world, one in seven billion. Will made him feel special and wanted and loved. 

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