Aufhshhdhsjsjs.. So irl I say I'm genderfluid and go by pretty much all pronouns. Now, this isn't really wrong, but idk.. Online I like going by he/him because I want people to see me as a guy, I guess? I feel like I want to be a guy but at the same time I'm not sure. Being a girl is awesome and cool sometimes but aufhshdhjwjs... I'm having identity problems 24/7 help. I guess maybe like. I go by all pronouns but he/him pref maybe? Or maybe I'm a guy whos okay with she/her sometimes? I mean, I'm okay with they/them + neopronouns but I find myself liking them less and less.. So maybe guy, she/he, he pref? Idkkkkkk..
another thing, if I annoy you or you hate me OR I irk you in any matter, just block me
Please
Just do it
Bcs if you stop interacting with me I WILL assume you hate me but I will still interact with you so please make it easier on both of us and just block me
Also if I haven’t interacted with you, it is because I am busy, I have forgotten, or because it hasn’t come on my dash in a while, I DO NOT HATE YOU. I HATE NO ONE ON TUMBLR. I LOVE ALL OF YOU SO MUCHHHHH JUST SHOOT ME AN ASK, TAG ME, I WILL REMEMBWR YOU
if you are seeing any of my posts, it is proof I don’t hate you
What would be Crete if Theseus, dagger in hand, enter the maze and the Minotaur exited, using the front door, wearing the hero's head and wearing it better?
What would be Theseus then?
A scapegoat?
A body for something divine to use and scream, as an oracle trapped between the hands of her gods?No mind or self, just, skin and fur.
I would like to say that this started as just a pumpkin labyrinth idea and I lost my mind, and I blame all the hot johns and I'm glad they are dea--
More ramblings under the cut:
----- ready for some nerd things? (in broken English, sorry)
1- The yarn it's a reference to the three Moirai, who control faith and human lives. (spinning the yarn, forming the thread and cutting the thread. Birth, life and death.)
Frost carries his life around his back, keeping control. (He carries his own faith. / Also, also, also references the threat that Ariadna gifts Theseus to not get lost in the labyrinth, he's able to control his life and mind.)
2- The cup and the laurel leaves are references to the religious practice of the Oracles of Delfos.
Where the oracle drank water from the fountain of Castalian and chewed laurel to purify herself to be able to be the voice of the gods, in Frost's case to think clearly. (Clear thought.)
3- The red yarn getting cut represents Frost getting lost in his own mind, overthinking, and losing control over his life. (Also his tail, which might link to the "having the tiger by the tail" saying.)
The labyrinth, who seems logical at first it's intended to have no exit (it's mirrored), it's Frost's emotions that keep him trapped behind his own logic.
4- Torbek being covered in blood and bones represents the goat sacrifices made to the oracles for enlightenment. Scapegoat, get it?
(You would also make a case linking him with Hercules "losing his mind by a divine power" wearing a lion skin with the whole "being punished by his crimes and gaining his identity back by getting a new identity by becoming a god", but it wasn't intentional.)
All the smoke that moves and represented the party that dances around Torbek, are references to the belief of some historians that oracles sat in a tripod on top of a rock that emanated gases causing them to get high and get hallucinations. Though it's not proven.
Also, it is a very poor reference to "Vuelo de Brujas" 1797 by Goya, which lives in my head rent-free. (You would say Frost is blinded by them since he's "witched", look at me making connections.)
5- The sad cat in the pumpkin it's a reference to EP. 4 Lose your illusion from the whole scarecrow situation where Frost falls in deep sadness while carving a sad kitty face.
Scarecrow's usually symbology shadows, a version of oneself that it's usually more linked with "darkness".
By being a scarecrow, Frost considers himself a shadow of what he used to be and now Torbek is. (Well, Torbek only has the skin.)
7- The pumpkin falling it's a very "losing your head" situation.
8/9- Frost by throwing away the laurel and the cup, which would give him the ability to see the future (to be able to see the situation logically and analyze it) he's refusing to believe there are other options than his friends abandoning him. He's jumping to conclusions.
And by it, it makes him distressed. (his fur falls and grows leaves, doubt.)
This makes the phrase "leaves no room for doubt" pretty ironic.
(...this isn't a story, or a poem or made up. This actually... is real. TW for suicide attempt, depression, use of overdosing as a metaphor, and... yeah, I'm sorry.)
This happened on June 3rd, 2024.
Monday, June 3rd, 2024, sometime around 5 pm.
Was when I attempted to take my life for the second time.
I've been feeling so... uneasy, the past few days. I thought, "It must be one of my moots!" So to every moot in my list, I checked on them. I'm glad I did, I got good and bad news from each one, I got to hear different stories, I got to offer my comfort and congratulations.
...but the feeling was still there.
So I kept asking, my moots, friends, people I've never talked to too much—How are you?
It was still there, eating me from the inside out
...And, on June 3rd... something clicked.
I was kinda thinking of it for the past couple days, of doing this. I think my posts, my demeanour reflected it even before i knew.
I was talking to someone on discord. They might've thought it was a nice conversation... I was planning on taking my life while we joked around.
I think that feeling, might've been me. Might've been my gut saying "Hey, don't do this!" Might've been myself reminding me of a promise I made to my twin. My sister, my best friends, my platonic spouse, my mum, the people I care about. The family I've made here.
...but
I tried... anyways.
Because I just couldn't see any further thsn right now, the heaviness that pushed my body down, the bad thoughts I overdosed on.
And... I didn't tell anyone. That would've been my biggest regret, because I love them all so, so fucking much. They are my family.
And my other friends, moots... I would've missed immensely too.
So... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for trying something so.... stupid. I'm sorry I didn't talk to anyone, I'm sorry I've been distancing myself, I'm sorry if I worried anyone, I'm sorry.
...But the one thing, the one thing I'm not sorry about...
I'm not sorry it didn't work.
I'm glad it didn't. I'm glad I got to tell my family on here, that I love them. That they're a family to me.
I'm glad I got to tell them good morning. I'm glad I told them. I'm glad... I'm here, I think, yeah. I'm glad, grateful for the people I have in my life. Thank you.
As Grian woke up the next morning, he was hounded by a headache and a swirling in his stomach. The feeling wasn’t common, but it was familiar.
He’d been overusing his magic.
The week had brought a particularly terrible bout of dysmorphia, and he’d been using his magic to do what he could and have some semblance of comfort in his own body, even though it barely ever worked.
He kept his shields up all day from the first time he looked in the mirror in the morning to when he inevitably passed out at night, lost in his own thoughts, and it was now Thursday. He thought maybe he could let himself relax today, that maybe today would be a good day, but he knew he was lying.
When he stepped out of bed, the nauseous feeling in his stomach got worse for a moment before calming, and really, he knew that he shouldn’t use his magic at all today, but one look in the mirror that sat in front of his bed told him that’d be impossible.
He had schol to attend, and even though he knew it’d be more than easy to just skip his few classes that day, the last thing he wanted was to somehow get behind.
He kept staring in the mirror at himself, and if the magic nausea was bad, looking at himself made it all worse.
It was all wrong.
He knew that whoever was in the reflection was supposed to be him. It had to be him. It moved like he did. It opened its mouth when he did. It ran its hands across his legs when he did and moved fingers through its hair when he did.
But it couldn’t be him.
It didn’t look like him. It didn’t feel like him. It couldn’t be him.
He hated what he saw in the reflection.
He hated that he knew that was him.
He hated that he must look so weird and wrong to everyone else.
He hated how tight his skin felt when he looked in the mirror.
He hated how his hair seemed to be plastered his scalp because he couldn’t remember that last time he showered.
He hated it all.
So he pushed through the headache and nausea and put up his magic walls that prevented his reflection from showing to his own eyes and stopped anyone from perceiving his own body.
They could still see him, but any thoughts that popped up in their mind or even his mind about it were swept away.
The sick feeling throughout his body seemed to increase tenfold, and he almost collapsed from it for a moment, but he pushed through. He needed to get to the meetup spot with Scar before going to class.
As he got ready, he was relieved to see his magic still working and stopping the mirror from reflecting anything about him, and he was relieved to not think any thoughts about himself. His mind was on his schooling and his schooling only.
When he headed off to class, he grabbed an iced coffee and chugged it as fast as possible. He wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, not wanting to spend money that way, but if he was going to be dealing with the side effects of constant glamour, the last thing he needed was to be tired on top of it.
He met up with Scar at their usual place to walk to their building together. Scar’s class didn’t start for another hour after Grian’s today, but the seating area was very comfortable and he didn’t mind the extra time to work on some homework before his class.
Of course Scar would be the one to notice something was off.
“Are you okay, Grian?” he asked lightheartedly, though concern laced his tone. “You seem a bit up in the clouds today, more than usual.”
Grian just laughed it off. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine, just haven’t been uh- haven’t been sleeping very well this week, you know how it is.”
Scar seemed slightly doubtful, but he didn’t press it.
When they arrived at the building, they split, Grian making his way to his lecture hall and Scar getting comfortable in the seating area until his class.
The architecture lecture seemed to fly past, and Grian was certain he didn’t take anything from it, too distracted by pushing his magic out to everyone in the hall and his subsequent headache to pay any attention. Logically, he knew they were all too focused on the professor to be looking at him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all staring. That they all had their own opinions on the weird and wrong body he saw every morning. So he kept using his magic to remove any perception they had on him. He didn’t even exist to them here.
It took everything in him to not pass out during the lecture, eyes half-lidded and vision unfocused, but an hour later, Grian was brought back to reality by the sounds of everyone putting things in their bags and chairs sliding across the floor.
With an internal groan, Grian winced as he got up from his chair and slung his bag over his shoulder. Even if it was only an hour, it was an hour spent pushing his magic on everyone in the room and ensuring they didn’t know he was there. Combined with having been doing this for almost the entire week, things didn’t seem to be going well.
He slowly made his way back to the seating area where he’d be meeting up with Scar again soon enough after his lecture, and he wasn’t focused on anything but the ground in front of his feet the entire short walk there.
“Grian!” a voice called, and he sluggishly raised his head, surprised to see Mumbo there.
His first class today was on the other side of campus, why was he here?
Mumbo seemed to read his mind as he approached, pulling the two of them toward a couch to sit down on.
“Scar seemed a bit worried about you and told me to make sure you got out of your class alright,” Mumbo explained. “You look about ready to fall asleep on your feet, what’s going on, mate? I’ve seen you pull all-nighters before, you’re not usually like this.”
Grian didn’t meet Mumbo’s eyes and instead stared forward at the glass, realizing with horror that he could see his reflection. That he could see the thing trying to be him that wasn’t him in the slightest. That he could perceive his own body.
And if he could think about it, then that meant everyone else could too.
Pushing through the headache that threatened to overtake him, he spread his magic to his own mind and Mumbo’s and anyone else in the area, wanting to stop their stares and their thoughts about him—he wasn’t meant to be perceived.
Suddenly, he was being shaken, and he realized he’d closed his eyes.
Mumbo was in front of him, looking at him with deep concern, and he could see that the other was trying to say something, but the ringing in his ears blocked it out. Black spots were beginning to overtake his vision, and he could feel his pounding headache throughout his entire body.
Careening forward, he felt Mumbo’s arms hold him tight before he was out like a broken lightbulb.
