• per aspera ad astra •

books, dark academia, coffee.

[thewrathofaphrodite]

Okay ya so you're here to kidnap me? Okay cool, island? Okay yah, umm you have a vineyard? Woah okay, can we stop at the bookstore. Ya get me a few classics and a large cold coffee please. *giggless and hugs the assassin* babe we gonna have so much fun omg. So eggsited.

[thewrathofaphrodite]

I will forever worship Arundhati Roy for writing these.

"As Estha stirred the thick jam he thought Two Thoughts and the Two Thoughts he thought were these:

a) Anything can happen to anyone.

and

b) It is best to be prepared."

"Things can change in a day."

"...the secret of the Great Stories is that they have no secrets. The Great Stories are the ones you have heard and want to hear again. The ones you can enter anywhere and inhabit comfortably. They don’t deceive you with thrills and trick endings. They don’t surprise you with the unforeseen. They are as familiar as the house you live in. Or the smell of your lover’s skin. You know how they end, yet you listen as though you don’t. In the way that although you know that one day you will die, you live as though you won’t. In the Great Stories you know who lives, who dies, who finds love, who doesn’t. And yet you want to know again.

That is their mystery and their magic."

[resqectable]

“So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me because I, too, am fluent in silence.”

— R. Arnold

[thoodleoo]

thinking about how perfect it is that the latin word for toad is "bufo." like someone back then looked at a toad and was like "hmm. this looks like a bufo to me" and they were right

[starei]

there's so much love in me, I want nothing more than to meet others who are deserving of it

[malisoun-deactivated20200727]

How do you fall back in love with life?

clean your room.  clean space, uncluttered space, space that doesn’t have miasma clinging to it can work wonders.  clean the dishes.  sweep.  take out the trash.  peel the clothes off the floor and wash them, and then actually fold/hang them.  take a long shower.  scrub behind your knees.  brush your teeth.  (this can be utterly exhausting, but try to get it done in a day, if you can.  the end result is worth it.)

pull out your notebook.  it doesn’t need to be a new notebook, but preferably one that you don’t usually write in, or that you haven’t touched in a while.  fuck moleskins.  the yellow legal pad will work fine.  sit in your room, or in the park, or in the library, and write a list.  count clouds.  describe all the colors that you see, and note patterns that arise.  sketch the cracks in the walls.  note the shape light makes when it enters a space.  talk about what the air tastes like, smells like.  what sounds are there?  even the white nose, break that down: air planes, fans, cicadas, anything.  remind yourself that you are sitting in the middle of a space brimming with detail.  remind yourself that you are not in nothingness and emptiness.  your world is fathomless.  it has potential.

drink cold water and try to eat something that isn’t processed.  it does not need to be fancy.  buy yourself an apple with the change between your couch cushions.  eat it outside.  if you’re someone who walks, walk somewhere afterwards, just to stretch your legs.  take your fucking meds.  remember that its a good thing that you are inside your body.  your body is a fantastic and endlessly intricate machine, and even though society has smacked a bunch of poisonous ideas on it, that doesn’t change its inherent worth and splendor.  take care of it.

read a novel.  underline your favorite lines, and write phrases that twist your heart inside your chest on the back of your hand with an ink pen.  read a novel like it’s poetry.  read poetry, something decadent but unpretentious.  watch a movie you haven’t seen before.  if there are free art galleries near you, walk through one.  take your time.  let yourself bask.  if there are patterns in what makes your soul ache, write those patterns down – marbles arches or soot crumbling bricks or dandelions or descriptions of dresses or whatever it is, write them down.

your chosen family is important.  remember, they picked you as much as you picked them.  the love has no obligation.  it is given freely and it is given from a place of compassion.  you are not a burden.  if you need to breathe, take a minute by yourself and just exist, but remember to go back to your people.  when they need you, listen and be gracious.  always be gracious.  the universe sometimes remembers things like that.

listen to new music.  link jump on youtube or related artist jump on spotify or ask the chap beside you in the cafe what their favorite band is, and listen to that.  listen to something that you don’t usually listen to.  we tend to tie up a lot of memory with music.  we are falling in love again.  the soundtrack needs to be specific to that.  

allow yourself to indulge in romantics.  press flowers in old books.  play movies with subtitles and mouth the words.  dance in your room.  wear something that makes you feel good, even if you wouldn’t wear it in public.  write your chosen family letters, even if you hand deliver them.  write poetry, even awful poetry.  revel in its awfulness.  eat dark chocolate and when your chosen family want to go out, try to go out with them sometimes, even if its just to the market.  

[conceptualsolitude]

concept: me, running until my knees give way. i begin to cry relentlessly and without shame. soon, a weight lifts from my shoulders.

[thewrathofaphrodite]

Art shapes my soul. It lets me drown in something deeper than just my existence. It makes me realise that yes, I'm alive, and I'm living loudly. The inner peace in creation is beyond something you can often speak about. Bake that cake you thought would be really hard, take that creative writing class, sew tiny handkerchiefs and gift them to your grandmother, cook that bowl of pasta, let random pieces of information mess with your brain, talk more, cry more, laugh more, dance more. But never stop feeling, for you to feel is to shape the art in you. Consuming art is one thing, letting it influence you inside out is completely different.

[qvotext]

“Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them.”

— Ray Bradbury; Dandelion Wine

[txmriddlx]

Can you please reblog if your blog is a safe place for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, asexual, aromantic, pansexual, non binary, demisexual or any other kind of queer or questioning people? Because mine is.

[thewrathofaphrodite]

Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two makes four. If that is granted, all else follows.

- George Orwell, from 1984

[thewrathofaphrodite]

Her feelings were her own,and could not be altered from outside. It would not have occurred to her that an action which is ineffectual thereby becomes meaningless. If you loved someone, you loved him, and when had nothing else to give you still gave him love.

- George Orwell, from 1984

[thewrathofaphrodite]

There were times when the fact of impending death seemed as palpable as the bed they lay on, and they would cling together with a sort of despairing sensuality, like a damned soul grasping at his last morsel of pleasure when the clock is within five minutes of striking. But there were also times when they had the illusion not only of safety but of permanence. So long as they were actually in this room, they both felt, no harm could come to them. Getting there was difficult and dangerous, but the room itself was sanctuary. It was as when Winston had gazed into the heart of the paperweight, with the feeling that it would be possible to get inside that glassy world and once inside it time could be arrested.

- George Orwell, from 1984.

[thewrathofaphrodite]

If we were villains, M.L.Rio

[ynka-deactivated20220613]

my desire to be hidden from the world just keeps intensifying

[thewrathofaphrodite]

[thewrathofaphrodite]

*a guy walks right past me*

*notices the slightest resemblance to an assassin, greek god banned from his kingdom, secretly a vampire, smells like smoke and firewood from some far away another dimension*

Me (channelising my inner Elizabeth bennet) : A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.