Woke:

sorry

Marie-Helene Bertino

man everyone is just going through it like. this fully sucks for everyone

Hey! I am currently hosting a huge project here on Tumblr called The Greek Mythos Project and I'm really hoping you, or some others, would like to join! It's basically going to be a huge fanfic on both Wattpad and AO3 (because I know some curious people are going to be on Wattpad and people deserve a wider audience) that will be highlighting various Greek Mythology writers, both in the original Greek Mythology context and perhaps the modern fandom context. It's main goal is to bring attention to smaller artists/writers or just smaller myths that may be slipping through the cracks. It originally started with me wanting to learn more about the Mythology, Characters, and history surrounding the myths, but now it's become something for the community here because I know how hard it is to want to post or to get an audience online full of people who know/are interesting </3. Anyway! Would you be interested or can you at least publish this to get to more people out there? We'd love to at least get more people around here <33

Thank you!!

Wow! 😯 I am really interested in this and would love more people as well participate in this!

It's important to give voice and recognition to smaller artists and writers so i hope more join this as well!

wind turbines are so beautiful, so tall so elegant, renewable energy u r so sexy

the trolley problem vs. systemic oppression: a comic.

Green ribbons of light danced across the darkened rural sky to the song of stringed instruments coming from my phone. The gentle melodies punctuated every sudden arch and smoothed each long stretch. Somewhere off in the distance, the sound of my friends spinning, running, and laughing on the dirt road and through the overgrown ditches. Even further off, the howl of coyotes gives warning to some unfortunate creature.

The song changed.

I lean back on my elbows in the truck box so I'm not craning my neck as much. I watch the sky light and darken as the green strips stretch and compress, appear and dissappear.

I found a place among the souls who offered me a rope, thankful for the day my journey came across the boat

I glance over at the friend next to me, their breath fogging from the cold night air as they try to take a picture of the sight in front of them. A picture can hold a thousand words, and will always far outlast our memories. The last time we watched the sky like this, we were laying on rocks beside a bridge, both being lulled to sleep by the song of a foolish man, enchanted by a forest spirit. I had never known rocks to be so comfortable until that night.

The song changed.

I went back to watching the sky, the ribbons of light greatly diminished from when I last looked. Now, they seemed to be painting a picture of a snowy tundra, briefly illuminated by pine trees, putting emphasis instead on the stars above the green light. I traced the constellations I knew, recalling the stories and different names I knew for each one; wishing I knew more of their names, shapes, and histories.

I know you'd break your neck just to see the stars

I chucked and rubbed the back of my sore neck. If nothing else, the song got that right. The two friends seemed to tire of their galavanting and ran back over to join us at the truck again, watching the stars and northern lights. The ribbons seemed to take that as their cue to take center stage, once again filling the night sky. The lines between each fold and spike grew and shrank, boldened and blurred. We watched the spectacle in awe, music having returned to the familiar, calming strings.

A flash of orange, red, and yellow streaked through the performance, there and gone in an instant. For a moment, all that could be heard was the stringed instruments. My friends began exclaiming their shock, estonishment, and excitement, one regretfully saying they didn't make a wish. I sat there, stunned, replaying the sudden flash of light - a meteor, we agreed - desperately trying to commit it to memory. I didn't want to forget it or that night. The friend next to me suggested I make a note of it on my phone, so I did.

The night drew on, and songs continued to change. Eventually, we moved the truck around so we could watch from inside the cab, as most of us did not dress warmly enough. The friend and I talked about the last time we stargazed like that and of bringing blankets next time. We talked about the people we liked and of people we wished to love.

After what might have been hours, the show did end, and the four of us left our little spot in the country so we could all sleep before work the next day.

(the original note from that night: Fucking commet while watching Northern lights with buds)

Songs referenced are (in order): Journey to Wherever We May Go by Grand Commander, The Willow Maid by Eurtan, Archer by Novo Amor. The referenced string music is from Astronomy, Vol. 1 by Sleeping at Last.

Pictures by @/alyssamoggy on Instagram

Hi boss sorry I'm late, the night sky was alight with every colour of the rainbow while only the strongest stars shone through. Yeah, there was even this one point where it all converged right overhead and it was just so cool and looked like a bird or butterfly or something. Really made me realise how small I am in the grand scheme of everything, you know?

Yeah so anyways I'm contemplating the meaning of life now so I might not be in today.

“Home is where the trees look normal” is the sweetest, saddest, most nostalgic truth I’ve ever heard.