Hiiii Guys.  Also Fyi My Old Account Was @pygmydragon But I Kiiiinda Deleted That Email Address Accidentally

and i as well, my love, hold the same

Hi guys, this is from my other account that ended up not liking me and letting me in.  Psych

Prompt #2010

“Did I ever really matter to you?”

“Yes,” said the antagonist. “You meant everything to me. You still do. And that’s why you have to die.”

okay so if you need more veggies/fruit, protein or fibre (bc most people do NOT eat enough) in your diet but you struggle to do so, hear me out:

look up recipes (especially snack recipes) that are child/toddler/baby-friendly

i can guarantee there is a woman with a cooking blog out there who has found away to pack a bunch of vegetables into a surprisingly delicious little snack for her kids. this process has never failed me when i feel like i am not eating enough fruits and veggies. my entire flat is eating spinach muffins at the moment, which doesn’t sounding particularly appealing to most people and yet somehow. they’re delicious.

It was all a mistake.  A misunderstanding.  Another day, another fight.  Except...this time Eclipse had won. The alleyway was dark, abandoned.  The girl ripped off her own mask, letting even more tears trace their paths down her face.  “Stay with me- no, don’t you dare.  Not now- not yet...”  She clutched the body of her love, shaking in horrible cries.  Small fires burned, not yet having burned themselves out.  The villain didn’t care if the coals burned her, what did it matter.  It had all been a game, of some sort or another.  They had started out as friends, and then she would merely pull pranks on him and he would do them back.  Until one day a line was crossed.  After all, when two people are special and have powers, eventually it all goes downhill.  Her sister died because of him.  She still remembered his stunned face, even through the mask.  He tried to say he was sorry, looked down horrified at himself.  He tried to make it better.  She shoved him away, snarling that she didn’t want any part in it.  Sorrow and anger were easier to justify than mercy and remorse.  That’s when it stopped being a game.  She wanted his death, and she had gotten it. 

There were times when she didn’t have to be different.  Days when she could just be herself.  Narah.  Days when she could just sit in a coffee shop and people watch, or walk her dog in the park, or attempt to do yoga for fun.  But when her sister died, someone new came into her life.

Ronan.  Tall.  Funny.  He had freckles on his nose that scrunched when he laughed, and red-gold hair.  They met at the funeral.  He had come up to her and said his condolences like everyone else.  She gave the same response as she gave anyone else and moved about the room.  But when they ran into each other again, in the park, that’s when something started.  He asked her how she was doing, and she was honest.  That was when their friendship started.  He was the only one who knew, truly knew who she was.  He found out when he knocked on the door of her apartment after she hadn’t talked to anyone, or left in days.  All of the rooms had ice dripping from them, drawing into their source.  Her.  She had been sobbing for days, her grief unquenchable.

As months went by, the line blurred between friend and lover.  They did everything together, and he knew all of her faults and loved her for it.  He never tried to stop her from fighting her nemesis.  Once, and only once, he asked her why. She stopped by his apartment and found him nursing a deep gash on his face.  He just said he got in a fight and left it at that.  But then, later on, while they were talking over coffee, he asked her softly why she fought her nemesis like she did. After a long time she answered, "Because if I don't, I feel like I will forget her."

But that was all gone, her future with him dripping through her fingers just like the blood did.  She pressed herself to him, clutching his body and curling into it.  Her sobs echoed against the stone in the ally, her body shaking.  

“Don’t go.... don’t leave me alone.”  

He didn’t answer.

Prompt #2090

“No,” they whimpered. “N-no, not you, anyone but you.” They slumped to their knees, cradled the hero’s face between the hands that had killed them. “I never knew- never even guessed- oh god, oh god. [Hero] was just my nemesis but I love you, loved you.” They choked on their own sobbing, their lover’s skin going cold under their fingers. “Don’t leave me, please, god, just don’t leave me-”

my favourite thing about the story of hades and persephone is that the story grew up with us.

i think most of us, when we were young girls ourselves, heard that first, most tragic version of the story: persephone, the innocent child of spring, who wandered into a dark, terrible place, and ate of a cursed garden. hades, meanwhile, was cast as a shadowy, grasping seducer, looming from the darkness: here he stood, the god of riches, of gemstones and bones, of cold, dead things, who wanted to snatch a little bit of sunlight for himself.

and then came the second version of the story, when we were older, not so much a change in narrative as it was of perspective: we heard about zeus raping leta, we read the way medusa was cursed for being raped by poseidon, we read about athena’s jealousy when she was outwoven by arachne, about hera tossing little hephaestus down a cliff because he wasn’t as beautiful as a god ought to be.

once more, we considered hades: the youngest of the trinity, free of spite and hatred and fits of rage, running an empire greater than his brothers’ together, with little ego and quiet efficiency. a god who only took one wife, only loved once, and then too: wholly, completely.

like something not out of a horror movie, but perhaps, indeed, a fairytale.

then the third turn, when we had grown older, acquired a veneer of cynicism, suffered boys who never grew to men, when we realized that the only way our sexuality would not be annexed was if we conquered it ourselves.

then came kore, the woman of spring, who found in hades a quiet, dark refuge, away from demeter’s wrath and hungry possession, away from the squabbles of those tiresome, reckless gods. the girl who fell in love with darkness. the goddess whose spirit was of renewal and rebirth, and still flourished in the heart of the underworld, the duality of her nature only serving to highlight her strength.

hades remained as he ever was, unchanging, like death itself. but persephone grew, acquired facets and beauty in her change, spring given form in metaphor and mythology.

hades and persephone grew with us. that’s why they’re powerful. that’s why they’re loved.

This or that!

Ok.

Poetry

Writing

Red

Coffee

Mascara

Percy

Thunderstorm

Leather

Autumn

Languages

Lead

Friendship

Chaotic

1820′s

Camilla

This or that. Dark academia edition.

Poetry or prose? Writing or reading? Black or red? Wine or coffee? Lipstick or mascara? Mary or Percy? Rain or thunderstorm? Silk or leather? Winter or autumn? Languages or literature? Lead or be lead? Love or friendship? Chaotic or lawful? 1820s or 1920s? Charles or Camilla?

Watercolor painting, trying to do a Hades and Persephone type thing.  Took me about an hour and a half, and I had a lot of fun doing it :)

welp, I am now over a month into quarantine.  I have not seen any person face-to-face that is not my family for over five weeks.  Chances are that quarantine will be extended anyways.  my motivation to do literally anything has plummeted, until i end up lying on the floor knowing that i should be doing something productive, but not having enough self control to make myself actually do the thing.  sigh.

IT IS DESPERAUX

shhh no talk, me try read book