US singer UMI has released her new EP, Introspection, and among the tracks is the atmospheric “Where I Wander”.
US singer UMI has released her new EP, Introspection, and among the tracks is the atmospheric “Where I Wander”.
weeks have turned to months and your journey to olympus, your acceptance of your life as a demigod, has lead up to this moment. it’s been brutal, wrought with pain and close calls, thick with loss, but you’ve endured. as you begin to get ready to sleep, winding down for the night, something inside of you feels different. there’s a strength that grows that you only dimly knew was there before. you feel stronger, faster, more attuned to your senses and your own inner power. if you ever doubted that you might have divine blood in your veins before, now, more than ever, you feel it.
as soon as your head hits the pillow you fall fast asleep, exhausted from the events that have lead up to this point. who knows however long later, you “awaken”. you’re not where you fell asleep, nothing is as it was when you slept. you have to blink a few times but you realize that you’re in a place that seems familiar to you. describe this place? what does it look like, sound like, smell like?
For @wildfaewhump my friend and the #1 fan of this ship. May you enjoy this little slice of relationship pie.
Warnings: implied/referenced abuse
It’s always cold in Athyx Cyreos.
Rowena’s palace is built into a goddamn mountainside, for all that is holy. Snow and wind and winter’s icy fingers reaching out to grasp and burn fingers and toes off if precautions are not taken. Not that the cold bothers Vysthrain all that much. Better that than warmer climates. Still, it’s too dry, even with all the snow. It’s downright miserable at times.
Sometimes- sometimes it’s warm, when they travel to Rowena’s summer palace. Why they don’t spend winters there, where the weather is mild, Vys has no earthly idea. Something to do with the solstice and festivals needing to be in the capital. In the dead of winter. It’s bullshit if you ask him.
Still, the chill isn’t usually an issue. He still wears his same clothes with no second thought, the kind that most would say, “why bother?”
Fashion. That’s why.
So when he’s lounging in his own quarters, lazily flipping the gold edged pages of a book, covered neck down in long sleeved, proper attire for the season, it’s very much not normal.
“Not coming?” The raspy voice is accompanied by the slosh of water and Vys glances down to the very lovely bath that had been built into his room when Rowena gave it to him. He often used it to regulate his body temperature, however right now it is heated far beyond his level of comfort, steam rising up like smoke off the top of the water.
“Hmm?” He replies, a beat and a half too late and realizes he’s been staring vacantly at the top half of the very naked man in his bath who’s resting his scarred arms on the edge of the pool and looking up at him. “Oh no- too hot for me. But you enjoy.” It isn’t often the queen’s champion gets the opportunity of a hot bath and Vys would hate to interrupt. The man- not man- looks more relaxed than Vys thinks he’s ever seen him.
“And yet you’re wearing more than I think I’ve ever seen you wear combined.”
Vys is often surprised by the terrible blunt honesty that comes from the champion. In court it’s all flowery compliment this, scathing hidden insult that. No one ever tells him outright what they’re thinking. Until this man. He picks at his high collar uncomfortably. It is hot, both from the steam warming the room and having more skin covered than he’s used to. Still, the bath holds an appeal and there’s always the option of a cool shower later.
And yet he hesitates, glancing back at Dray, who’s proceeded to rest his chin on his arms and watch Vys intently. “I already washed my hair and it’s a pain to dry and untangle. It takes a lot of work to look this good, you know”, the fae deflects, making a motion with his hand to gesture to all of himself.
“I have never seen you so hesitatant to get naked. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Darling boy, when have I never not been alright?” Vys sniffs, turning back to his book.
Dray has no reply and sinks back down, steaming water up to his nose. He’s getting better at reading tones, body language. And it’s clear that this conversation is not one the fae wants to have. He won’t push the subject.
Later, when he’s alone, Vys lets himself feel guilty about shutting down the conversation like that. But the queen’s champion has far more serious worries to concern himself with, so Vys will not add to that. He wont. He’s already endangering them both as it is.
His fingers dig into the dark stained wood of the dresser he stands before, glaring at his reflection in the mirror, candlelight flickering across his features. He’s since removed the stifling clothing he was previously wrapped in and now there’s nothing to hide the ring of purpling finger-shaped bruises circling his neck like a morbid necklace. His wrists likewise reflect the molting of color pressed into his flesh as does a spreading blue and purple blotch across his side and his scowl deepens.
It would do no good to have let his companion see him in this state. Certainly not. It would not do to have him fly into a rage, become that monster he clearly so believes himself to be. Vys is without a doubt that Dray would hunt down whoever had done this, should he ever discover. But he won’t. He doesn’t deserve that added burden.
Vys smiles wryly as his eyes fall shut and his grip loosens on the dresser. Breathe in- breathe out. When his eyes reopen, there is only smooth, unmarred skin. The ache- that he can do nothing about. It will fade in its own time. It always does. Nothing to trouble anyone about.
Let us not idly shirk the task,
But face ourselves, and boldly ask
Our conduct whether it has trod
The path of Mammon or of God? —Eliza Cook
In my brain i am someone who can travel and experience new things and live in the woods and rough it. In my body I am someone who needs to drink at least a gallon of water per day and rest 5 mins for every 20 mins of exercise at least
Honestly the water thing is a bit of an obstacle but the exercise thing shouldnt be. Im not a fucking athlete but it pisses me off that i CAN keep up with people as long as they don’t act like an asshole and refuse to let me rest, but for some reason they can’t just give me that one fucking thing. Just be fucking considerate of people oh my god
3rd July is celebrate as Compliment Your Mirror day, a quirky way to show appreciation towards oneself. While we tire ourselves trying to please others, seldom do we take a moment to appreciate ourselves and tell ourselves,”You are enough” . It shouldn’t be mistaken for a day to focus only on mere outer beauty, rather it should be understood as the time of introspection and complimenting the ‘inner self’.
So,take a moment,each day to be good to yourself.
Artwork by - hina_akatsuki
P.S- this artwork was made for an NGO known as Samvad-beautiful conversations which is working towards debunking myths about mental health. For more info, visit their Instagram page- samvad.ngo
.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·. Empathy is beautiful.
I saw a dead dog once
Guess what, folks? It’s introspection hour!
I’ve noticed something about how I react to “sudden revelations” that a celebrity is a bigot, or an abuser, or insert-awful-thing-here.
I’m never really surprised.
I feel disappointment, sure. Anger and sadness are there, too. But it’s never an, “I can’t believe it!” or a “How could they?” Not even when it’s a celebrity who created something I love! Not even when it’s someone who in all other aspects of their life and career seems an outspoken progressive! Not even if they’re so totally nice!
And no, I’m not going to name names here. Whoever pops into your head when you read this, it doesn’t matter! I am never really shocked to find out that someone – anyone! – has a group of people they don’t see, treat, or respect as equally human.
Because I’ve never had the luxury of surprise.
I’ve never had the luxury of assuming that, because someone is nice or does something I like, they must not be a bigot.
My childhood was punctuated by that moment – that inevitable moment – when someone who had been so nice, so fun, such a great friend, finally learned that I was Jewish, and everything changed.
I described this once as being stared at “like tourists stare at the gorilla at the zoo,” and even typing that out again gives me the creeps.
It’s like having a secret identity, sort of. It’s not something I ever wanted to hide, nor something I’ve ever been ashamed of. But it’s something that no one ever assumes of me.
“Oh, I didn’t know!” is a common first reaction. To which I want to say, “Why would you have known? Why did you think I wasn’t? Why is this a big deal at all?”
But I don’t get the chance to say that, because either the conversation immediately dies and the nice friend moves on with their life away from me, or they ask me what I think about Israel.
It must be different when people immediately look at you and think you’re less than human. If they never show you acceptance in the first place. If you already are, to them, that strange creature on the other side of the glass. If you never had reason to see them as “nice” at all.
And white people wonder why black people are so angry.
Once a year when my public schools would deign to discuss the Holocaust, it was always with a lens of, “This is a bad thing that those horrible people did.” And my classmates would sit comfortably, knowing that they were not horrible people, and therefore they did not need to think about antisemitism ever again after that class period was over. And I would sit uncomfortably, knowing that I couldn’t count on any one of them to hide me from the Nazis.
We do the world a grave injustice when we frame bigotry, or abuse, or murder as something that only “horrible people” do. Because it is entirely possible, entirely normal, for nice, smart, funny, creative people to be bigots, abusers, and accessories to murder.
I’ve never had the luxury of believing that lie. It’s time we stopped telling it.
It’s bizarre, standing here at the threshold of change. I want to take the step. If I’m being honest, I think I already have. Or at least, I think I’m ready.
But now, this close… there’s hesitation.
I tremble at the idea. I know I need to change, but I’m terrified of what I’ll change into.
I guess… all I can do is take this step and see what happens.
Summary: For Izuku Midoriya, moving in together with Ochako seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do.
But advancing to the next phase of his life - and saying farewell to everything that came before - was far more heart wrenching and confusing than he imagined.
Thankfully, he has just the right person to give him a lift.
Lost in thought, I lean on the wall at work, contemplating how miserable I can make myself feel without much effort. Deep down I acknowledge how insignificant life is in the grand scheme of things and this idea stains every other thought that follows. Concepts like success or freedom make their way into the mix with the intent to cure me of my own train of thought. Irony hits numbingly hard as those concepts get infected as if the body has been completely taken over by a sickness of the mind. Stricken with a perpetually negative mindset born from a critically low level of diffidence I seek validation in order to feel like I am something and not nothing.
High expectations are met with harsh treatment if what I attempt isn’t a success in as few trials as possible and with every failure I grow increasingly vexed at my own ineptitude to succeed. Prone to negativity by nature I lack the capability to suppress it since I believe it isn’t my true self, even if this self isn’t a benefactor to my well-being. Easily affected by the world that circles me, I most often prefer solitude instead of company but have drawn the conclusion that company is a necessity in order to increase chances of healing whats ails me.
However though, I find myself most at peace when I am alone with my thoughts as human connection proves itself to be intricate, leaving myself feeling inadequate after most interactions. Being declared a social animal by pragmatic studies I tend to believe I might want to be an exception to the rule, at least half-way through as all the human contact I crave is sufficiently provided by a small number of people in my life. Life being quite demanding while also not accepting the existence of exceptions compels me to become something that I deem quite incompatible with my natural way of being. In short, life means human contact and human contact will provide with life, in all facets imaginable.
An amalgamation of anger with frustration and some depression soon faded away as I grew to accept reality though feelings still linger, hidden somewhere underneath being suppressed by reasons that are ultimately more meaningful towards personal fulfillment. Hanging by this strand of purpose I push beyond my inner restraints and strive towards something I envision as evolution from my inadequate self towards an idea of me that could be considered acceptable. Vision proves hazy as I do nothing but stagnate into this state of mind as only my body moves, repeating the same cycle without fail. Escape can only be ushered by my hand as leaving it to the rule of higher beings is impractical, even though I have taken this idea into consideration and am applying it with low hopes of success. Mornings have me spew words of efforts followed by hope of success in achieving the idea of freedom that I envision and covet immensely in order to obtain the life that I consider fit for the self that is considered unfit by expectations.
Success is an ideology, a state of mind, a goal that can guide towards a life lived , filled with fulfillment or ruin. Chasing success is what ends up ruining the whole experience as only some will attain it as others are dropped and forgotten as if sifted through like sand. Though desiring success in order to be allowed freedom and be given acceptance, I do not present the qualities most beneficial to such a goal. Lacking the much needed traits that I deem essential for success I once again fall prey to my own diffidence as I see nothing but failure in sight while all efforts prove barren. I end up believing that I am unworthy of success and ultimately of acceptance, as my natural self is a deterrent to such a concept and if I were to ever attain fulfillment from success, I would probably regret it. A seemingly endless cycle continues to flow as realization that true freedom is given to the one that ends up accepting himself but success will be reserved for those that will put forth effort, regardless of its size.
I am left diffident still but as I wake from my daydream, I step away from the wall as I become once again part of life.
( Quarantine Diaries / Alexander / Solitaire )