#I do get emotional at movies but the emotion never presents itself in the form of tears

[whaleiumsharkspeare]

Listening to the Wicked soundtrack (shocker) and I never cry at movies but y’all….I feel like seeing For Good on the big screen might be the one thing to finally break me

[nightcolorz]

Hello!

Please, speak more about traumatic age regression in Armand and Lestat- I would LOVE to hear other peoples thoughts on this, because its a theory/interpretation I've also been batting around

thank u for the ask omg!! I would love to talk about this!

In the books especially Armand and lestat show like, text book age regression haha. They both are shown to be below the standard of functionality for both their mortal and their immortal ages, and both struggle with emotional regulation in a way that is explicitly childlike.

Btw for clarities sake, when I say traumatic age regression btw I’m referring to age regression that is triggered involuntarily as a trauma response, when a person will slip into a childlike mindset or behavior due to how their brain functions after trauma. I’m not referring to age regression as an intentional coping mechanism to deal with trauma (though i do think both these characters would benefit from this and I would like to see it explored, I’m just making the case that the former occurs in canon haha)

Starting with Armand, he is often described as having been stunted in growth in a way which causes him to be unable to behave or function as an adult, since he was turned into a vampire as a teenager. This is such a huge deal with him, to the point where Marius literally tells people Armand should have never been a vampire because of how “damaged” he is. This conceptually is like inherently age regression lol, he’s an emotionally stunted 500 yr old vampire who behaves like a child because his brain got messed up. But this isn’t really the case at all with other child vampire characters. Claudia is not the most stable adult, but she’s certainly not immature or childlike in her behavior the way Armand is. While Armand is unable to live independently for the majority of the book series because he panics and short circuits when he is put in a position where he needs to be self reliant, Claudia only needs to have a caregiver because she will be restricted from entering certain spaces and will have trouble navigating the world without an adult since she appears as a five year old.

And characters like Benji are completely stable and functional as adults, and their minds are unaffected by being stuck in the bodies of children. It seems to me that Armand’s stunted growth has more to do with the trauma he’s experienced than the age he was turned (tho it is likely a factor). Armand has a very intense case of identity fracturing during his crucial development, so he can’t remember most of his life and formative memories, and mental health problems like these often cause age regression to come up. Armand was prevented from ever going through the crucial developmental stages a child needs to become a stable adult bcus of the trauma he was out through, so it makes sense that as an adult he still behaves and thinks like a child.

A lot of times adults who experienced intense childhood trauma are forced to be very mature as children to protect themselves, and when they are adults and are no longer in danger the childishness they repressed in childhood presents itself in adulthood, and the adult tries to learn and explore what they lost out on in childhood. I think Armand is experiencing a form of this, which is a form of age regression. An example of this would be how in queen of the damned Armand acts very childish, because as he describes it, he’s “learning about the modern world”, and he’s rediscovering his childhood curiosity bcus he never was able to truly learn about the world and learn how to live as an adult in it during his formative years. The devils minion chapter is very age regressy to me, I mean the whole thing is about Armand experiencing new things and sensory experiences and and trying to learn life lessons from Daniel because he’s never had that before. Daniel gets to see Armand’s mask unveil and discovers that he has a boyish laugh and he likes dumb comedy movies, and blenders, and he has a childlike wonder and desire to explore. (Cough cough age regression). Daniel is able to bring out Armand’s age regression in a positive way by nurturing his inner child in a way no one has before. So Armand definitely I feel like age regresses when he’s happy and letting himself indulge in things that heal a part of his inner child (particularly around someone he trusts, Daniel) but he also definitely age regresses when his trauma is triggered (oof)

Armand goes through mood swings and drastic changes in behavior pretty often. He is usually very good at appearing put together and mature, he speaks very calmly and rationally, he’s socially skilled and charming. But Armand has moments that happen when he is very upset usually, where his mask breaks and he suddenly begins acting like a child, crying and screaming, breaking things, throwing tantrums, stuff like that. It seems like Armand age regresses when he’s in some way triggered or experiencing very strong emotions. I think that his most evil, insane moments r often influenced by age regression. For example, Armand’s behavior in the vampire Lestat comes off as age regression to me. Lestat’s appearance in Armand’s life uproots his sense of security and sense of purpose (and reminds him of his maker), so Armand begins throwing violent tantrums and destroying all of his things and going to nicki’s house and throwing a fit and making his house a mess. Armand has no calculated idea of revenge against lestat for a perceived wrong, he just feels helpless and starts acting out in childlike ways (age regression). It’s even little things. When Armand begins revealing his past to Lestat he holds his arms and appears helpless and lost. When Armand is his most helpless his instinct is to curl into himself in defeat. He almost forgets how powerful he is and reverts to helpless frightened child.

The age regression angle definitely applies to show Armand too. Show Armand wasn’t even turned as a child, so all of his regressive behavior is rooted in regression exclusively. I get the impression that amc Armand, because of his isolated upbringing where he was raised to be obedient and reliant before he was raised to be a person, causes him to age regress since he was never raised to be an indecent adult. Amc Armand age regresses most often by perceiving himself as much more helpless and constantly victimized than he is, and acting accordingly. He’s like a big dog that thinks it’s a puppy so it sits on its owner lap and crushes their bones 😭. I could elaborate on amc Armand age regressing for sure, but I don’t want to make this post all Armand lmaooo. A post for another day

NOW LESTAT LOL! Lestat absolutely age regresses in the books, in a similar way to Armand where it is almost explicitly acknowledged lmao. The biggest example I think of when I think of lestat age regressing is a small scene in the vampire Lestat, where after almost getting himself killed when he plays the violin for akasha, Marius saves lestat and berates him for being stupid, and instead of taking on his usual defensive cockiness Lestat breaks down in hysterical tears and begs Marius to forgive him. It’s incredibly childish in a way that’s kind of heartbreaking, he’s saying stuff like “i didn’t mean to, please don’t be mad”, and it’s such an abused child reaction. Lestat most often age regresses when he is in the presence of someone he perceives as a mentor/parental figure. Lestat was turned young, not as young as Armand but young enough to not be entirely mature or self sufficient. And lestat was pretty seriously abused and neglected, and combined with how young he is he has a complex around older people where he sort of clings on to somebody to be his parental figure and reverts into a childlike mindset in their presence. Like Marius, lol (this also happens with David talbot). This is also definitely due to Lestats maker trauma, where he as a person with already bad abandonment issues, was very seriously abandoned and in the process seriously abused, and so part of Lestat always holds onto the trauma of loosing his maker and is always looking for someone to fulfill that mentor role for him that he was deprived of.

As a child Lestat was neglected so bad that he never had his bad behavior “corrected”, bcus none of the adults in his life cared to teach him how to be a good person. He was only ever beaten for the satisfaction of his abusers, he was never corrected or punished for his sake. This is why lestat often does reckless, stupid things purposefully, bcus he is looking for someone to tell him off. He wants someone to care about him enough to try and teach him how to be good. So, Lestat age regresses by acting out like a kid and doing things he hopes will get him scolded at 😭. Which earns him the brat Prince nickname from Marius, which is just so age regressy it’s insane.

The way Lestat expresses his hysterical emotions def comes off as age regression to me sometimes, specially when he hysterically cries and laughs. Louis describes Lestat in iwtv as immature and stupid, and I think the reason Lestat often behaves this way around Louis is because Louis’s emotional callousness reminds him of his mother, and triggers his age regression reaction where he acts out to get attention.

what I love so much about Armand and lestats dynamic is that they have sooo many of their major issues in common. Lestat and Armand hate each other, but they also love each other bcus in a way they r the only people who understand each other. Ughhhh they r so good.

thank u SM for the ask I love talking about this!!!! I hope I’m making sense here I feel like I didn’t do my thoughts justice cuz I’m recovering from a massive migraine rn 😭

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

jasmine with mr. compress, pretty please with cherry on top !! it suits him tbh 😵‍💫🎀

cw: Yandere Themes, Allusions to Stalking, Violence / Violent Death, Mutilation, Dismemberment, Reader Has a Gender-Neutral Partner, Slight Manipulation Undertones, Uncomfortable Scenarios, Unhealthy Relationships, General Dark Themes Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Gender-Neutral Reader. Read at your own discretion! 18+ Only!

author's note: So I'm not too good with Mr. Compress' character, but this idea came to me in a fever dream and I just had to write it. I hope you like it! REQUESTS ARE OPEN—READ THE TAGS. This was a prompt from "Yandere Prompts Flower Language" and can be found here . I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

PROMPT: Jasmine (Sensuality): "Oh, sweetheart, if you keep struggling like that, I might just lose control."

word count: Approximately 2k.

The sun is setting.

It’s in your eyes, but it’s fine, you don’t mind, so your gaze shifts to your side. Your partner stands with you, by you, and your fingers are interlaced, intertwined. You take a moment to squeeze their hand delicately, gently. It’s like a breeze sifting, careening into your pores, guiltless, free, and you can’t help whenever a small smile starts to draw itself across your lips. It’s nothing more than something soft, but whenever you’re reflected in your partner’s face, the feelings compound and your face is back to the skies.

Darkness starts to eat away at the edges of the fading warmth. You feel like if you took a few more steps, you could cross the wide saucer and find yourself over that swelling moon. Tonight’s special, that’s why you feel this way. A blossoming in your heart, bouquets of flowers that have broad colors, starts to fill the lining of your lungs. This is the anniversary of your first fateful meeting—this place, this hometown, the way the sidewalks seem to wind into nothingness, disappearing into the forest outskirts of this way. It’s appalling, the way that the wrong turn, the wrong twist, and suddenly the leashes of two eager hounds tie your knees together and you’re crashing into a chilly pond with grins on your faces—just like some children’s movie. Everything has never felt real, the bond you share with your partner sacred and a grounding to reality, something to tether you to meaning.

You accidentally trip over a gap in the pebbles, your partner chuckles, and then a man appears from the shadows.

He’s odd, eccentric, and you’ve never quite seen someone like him. There’s a sense of astonishment that makes your heart go awry, but there’s no rhyme or reason. You feel perhaps dread, or unreason, or maybe there’s an emotion within you that doesn’t make sense at all. The man holds an air to his countenance that you can’t quite place, can’t quite see through that glaringly porcelain white mask. Slaps of bold black lines decorate that barrier, forming shapes that don’t explain him. You can’t even see his eyes. And yet, he crosses your path.

Your partner pauses, but you want to skirt around the man and keep going. There’s something telling you to go! get away from him now! but your partner seems enamored, intrigued. The man spins a little, a full twirl with a flourish of his hands, sweeping so wide, so far, before he bows politely and offers a quiet laugh.

“Ladies and gentlemen, come round, come full, I have such marvelous things to show you!”

A magician—this man seems to be a magician. You’ve not quite lost the edge to your emotions, but your hackles start to slowly fall, start to ease themselves. Perhaps that’s why this man’s original appearance startled and unnerved you so badly. It must be the way he’s learned to present himself: magical, mystical, strong, aloof. All of these things that someone about to snap their fingers and pull a bunny out of their hat would need to seem so persuasive, so genuine. And the way his head seems to tilt in your direction, the way it seems like you feel so elusive, how he feels elusive, how it suddenly feels like you’re both trapped in a world that has no name. You wonder why it’s so magnifying, this sense of delusion, why you’re unreal, why it makes your breath hitch whenever the man reaches into the inside pocket of his trench coat.

From his secrets, he pulls out a quarter. Oh, you know this trick. The man flashes the quarter around back and forth, shoving it super close to your partner’s face. A giggle or two leaves them, and you attempt to muster a shoddy grin. There’s no need to be so hesitant about a street performer. He’s probably just trying to momentarily woo for some spare change. You watch the quarter start to roll across the man’s gloved fingers, it dances over each digit, tantalizing, and you can’t help but follow its path. Shining light dances off of the metal’s embroidery, the patterns, the visions, and you’re lost with every roll until the man flings the quarter high into the air. All of you watch it fly and fall, and the man snatches it from the sky with a fist and shakes it a couple of times. Whenever he opens his hand, the quarter is gone, vanished.

Your partner snickers, but not in a condescending way. It’s cute and quaint, yeah, you can admit that. You almost feel bad for being so judgemental, but, there’s still something lingering deep.

“Voila! It vanished! How fascinating, yes?”

A nod from your partner, but the mask doesn’t leave your eyes.

“Do you want to see another trick?”

There’s a bravado to his voice that makes spider legs dance at the base of your spine, makes you want to shudder and shiver, makes ice begin to find its frost against your follicles. Another nod. The man seems to stifle some sort of laughter.

“Don’t blink or you just might miss it, my dear!”

He’s watching you, those words were meant for you. Something’s wrong, something’s dangerous, something’s going to happen, something—

The magician claps his hands together a few times in an odd beat, one that doesn’t have a song, and then snaps his fingers twice. You’re staring, in horror, in vain, and you can’t find any excuse in you to scream and yell at this man to get your hands off of them whenever the man’s arm stretches out to your partner. It feels like the stabbing of sharp needles is a heartbeat behind your eyes, and then the man reaches behind your partner’s ear. They emit a stinging hint of breath whenever the magician’s fingers caress the shell, but it immediately evolves into more giggles whenever he withdraws his arm and reveals his hand.

Clutched within his thumb and index finger is a tiny baby blue ball. Not a single ounce of time can breathe life into you before the man’s body is angled closer to you, observing, and you feel like that mask is evaporating, that you can see shadowed eyes hollowing into yours, that you can’t even believe what’s happening before—

The magician snaps his fingers, sends the ball flying, and something large and mechanical and clunky and rusty appears out of nowhere. It creaks, it’s loud, and both of your eyes widen, why is everything so slow right now, why do you feel paralyzed, and then the device goes driving. You’re trying to focus, trying to distinguish whatever it is, but that doesn’t matter whenever it’s so close, too close, and your partner hasn’t even had time to lose that beautiful expression painted across those lovely cheeks and lips. Teeth, heavy and pointy teeth, they cut across the universe and there’s a decisive shlick! that echoes within the chambers of your mind, the alcoves of your eardrums.

Liquid splatters across your body, warm and heedy, and you can only gasp and gasp and gasp as you finally comprehend what you’re seeing—what’s happening—

A bear trap, is that a bear trap, something filled with spikes and reverberation and disbelief, it’s full of evil and metal and a chain jangles loosely with the dwindling swaying of your partner. Its teeth are etched into their face, chewing through them in abhorring manners that make your stomach twist, make you feel so queasy and far away, so dim and faint. It’s over so fast, too fast, and you can’t do anything but follow your partner’s body collapse, hard and thundering, ways that make you think that you’ve got sweat and copper weaving into your fibers, the way their fingers lifelessly slip from yours. Your mouth is gaped, warbling back into a grimace that never allows a single scream to push through its gates.

“Dearest, won’t you please give a hand of applause for my lovely helper?”

Something cynical, disgusting, and you’re sniveling before you’re growling before you’re facing this magician fully to pounce. You want to, want to show him a magic trick, want to make his heartbeat and breathing and blood vessels disappear with a bite of your jaws. But he doesn’t make a fuss, doesn’t bother, he just lets his fingers splay against his mask before he slowly begins to remove it. Golden chocolate stones meet your eyes, locks of curly ebony hair, it all takes you by surprise whenever the man offers a genuine and sincere smile.

“Ahh, no need to be such a bad sport. Don’t worry, next time you can be my helper.”

Anger, fire.

“Shut the fuck up! Who the hell do you think you are, you fucking bastard?”

He clicks his tongue, almost disappointed.

“Good Heavens, I didn’t realize you had such a tongue on you. In all my time of watching you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard something quite like that.”

It’s a broken tea set on the ground, green and chamomile coalescing on the tiles.

“What? … What?”

He laughs, deep, and he shakes his head as if he were scolding a child.

“Yes, quite some time now. But, enough of that—a magician never reveals his secrets, no?”

Your legs are jelly and snails, puppy dog tails, and you’re trying to walk backwards but you feel like you’re stumbling, so you choke, you roll on the balls of your feet, and you start running. You try, you try, but you hear a displeased sigh behind you before another snap. And that happens too fast too, something gently bounces against your calf, nothing, it felt like a droplet of snow, but the pain registers faster than reality. Anguish, yelling, screams, they spill out of your tongue and gums like vomit before you crash to the ground.

It felt like something had bitten your leg clean off, had taken the limb, and had found a way to slice you perfectly beneath the line of your knee. Your body cries in terror, you feel all of your muscles tense, you feel so crazy, gravel and rocks and graveyard dirt snatch against the heels of your hands, your palms dirty.

“The show must go on, as they say. I don’t need you running away from me, especially not after all of the thought I put into this perfect meeting!”

Your head can’t even spin around, but the ghostly traces of your leg remain. It’s gone, it’s gone, but you’re so desperate. You have to get away, you have to tell someone about this fucking freak, you have to hold your partner and sob and beg whatever God there is to fix this, to stare into God’s eyes and see whatever you did wrong to deserve this. Nails scratch against the ground, fleas and lollipops, and it’s sweet but it leaves its mark behind. You’re trying to pull your body along, no matter how futile, no matter how embarrassing this is, no matter what you must do, no matter, no matter, no matter, no

Footsteps, they draw near, and more laughter, bold and brash.

“Ohhhh, sweetheart—if you keep struggling like that, I might just lose control.”

There never was any control, but you don’t care, don’t want to care, if you die on the ground like this, cut like a pecan pie, dollops of warm vanilla ice cream smeared against your beating heart, then that’s fine. It’s unfair, the weight of the bear trap lingers like a monster in the woods, like the spirit of a hunter cruel and pathetic, apathetic, waiting, and you can hear the magician draw closer.

“I’m trying to do what’s best for you, but you’ve already forced my sleight of hand to make sure you didn’t get away. And after such a delightful show, I was hoping you’d be more charmed, but I guess not all tricks can be winners.”

You’re crawling, weaker, but crunching, and a pair of fancy shoes blinds your vision.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, dear. I have waited so impatiently for this day to come, and yet you’re so eager to get away from me. How rude. I’ll just have to hypnotize your fleeting heart to feel what I feel.”

Your eyes are blurry with tears and cream whenever you carefully lift your head to stare the magician down, to watch that dashing look on his face never leave, to watch another one of the tiny orbs wriggle across the inclines of his hands, to watch as he releases one last chuckle and sends the ball snapping into the air.

“But you know what they say: with magic, the impossible is always possible!”

And then an ocean blue, and then nothing.

[iridescentscarecrow]

hi i'm the op of that post (stackslip) PLEASE elaborate on chainsaw man's metanarrative

hi! um. you've given me free reign, i hope you know what you're doing. anyway: fair warning in advance that this is based entirely on how i like to interpret and think of the csm story and doesn't necessarily hold true, partly because of the level of abstraction that i'm operating at here. i'm normal and i like metanarratives a normal amount. this might be a little long. but.

um. thinking about how protagonism in CSM is inflicted on denji by the author insert that is makima. i've brought up the Icon of chainsaw man before in my part 2 analyses but basically:

the Chainsaw Man is the role that denji occupies in the story, right? it's the title of the manga. it's what the public Sees him as. it's what makima quite literally produces. the relationship between denji and the chainsaw man in both aspiration and idealisation forms a major stem of both part 1 and part 2's narrative.

this production occurs on two levels: (1) what Chainsaw Man is, and should be, and (2) how denji is developed as a protagonist by makima.

"you don't get him at all." chainsaw man is her blorbie (i think i'm funny). the point is that the Presentation of chainsaw man, the one that the audience is initially set up to expect, is almost entirely synonymous with makima's version of the CSM that we get later. i think a lot about how part one borrows from, amplifies, and later subverts shounen tropes. the CSM as an idea persists in how it's discordant from denji's normality in part 2 but part 1's direction in how denji voluntarily inhabits the chainsaw is what i'm pointing at here. (there's a lot to be said about how denji's idealisation as tied to the icon of the CSM is intertwined with his wants but that's not relevant in this meta except in the minutiae of his adherence / resistance to this role.)

the thing is that makima is instrumental in pushing this role onto denji. she sees chainsaw man, he is chainsaw man. it's (and i sound insane here but please hold on, i beg) like writing.

i think her addressing him in the last battle scene, the "i'll kill you personally" is indicative of her finally divorcing denji from the chainsaw; forming The Chainsaw Man in full, while still obviously curating the denji that would support this formation throughout the story.

a small side here but: "but she never even saw me once, even from the start." // fujimoto's writing actively utilises characters towards the end goal of shaping the protagonist. this struggle here is one between a character and an author.

now continuing; the way that makima provides for and then systematically removes these initial connections simulates traditional story structures with its setup, its confrontation and resolution. her excellence as an antagonist rests upon her identity as a narrative device which develops the protagonist and pushes him through this structure. the conflicts and the loss that a protagonist usually naturally (at least in-world) goes through in a story are instead all artificially created by makima.

"how could i make you so hurt that you'd no longer be capable of living a normal life?" // her molding of denji isn't just passive emotional manipulation, it's active writing. she herself is aware of the tropes and the character relationships that are being built up, that are being subverted. she herself embodies, espouses and resolves the themes of multiple arcs (thinking of the end of the bomb devil and the darkness devil arc here / thinking of how she draws the shutters on ignorance and on wanting).

there's a lot i try to extrapolate from her commentary on movies during her date with denji especially in context with the story simulation that she herself is doing throughout the manga. i find it interesting how the ending to the movie date or the "good" movie founds itself on shared feeling: denji sees makima cry at the same movie as he does.

"the drinks yesterday were delicious." // you talked about her goals already in your post but makima's search for real intimacy (and equality in a relationship) coincides with denji's one. to me, it comes off as a writer trying to find a mirror of understanding in their own creation. the way she visualises the CSM (as "chaos" to her order) reveals a relationship quite like the flawed connection that one has with characters one makes: and this relationship is what denji (the 'stage' of this process) responds to so emphatically: "she wasn't looking at me this whoole time."

so, yeah; CSM to me operates at two levels: the one with the deeply human character relationships that construct the story and another layer where fiction and ideation mesh. it's important to note that this is something fjmt quite likes doing in his other work: using characters to specifically engage with the telling of his stories or exploring his characters' nuanced reactions to fiction and its weight.

thinking of makima as the 'Author' is misleading, though, and it ignores the fact that makima is both a device deployed by the actual author and in-world by the structure that are the higher ups. she is the control devil; she controls the scaffoldings of the story but she in herself is an agent of the author, of the narrative, of the aforementioned higher ups.

i don't know. is an artist ever truly original in their art? do they not operate within a greater structure, borrowing from and being regulated by it and its interpretation of their work? are makima's plans not ultimately upset by her creation?

denji materialises as a character from multiple active sources instead of the unitary source that makima believes herself to be. he's a passive character and yet he refuses to be a stable creation (psst. it's that universal tussle between the living art and the artist -- something fjmt's already tackled in his oneshots).

i don't know (2). this interpretation's been simmering in my head for a while, but i wasn't very Sure about it. but hm. this writeup primarily bases itself off part one (since it's well. complete) but image and image production specifically coming into fruition as a theme in part two makes me feel increasingly confident in this interpretation. it's strange how it somehow all ties back into storytelling.

[justanothervigalanty]

in the shirt I used to wear (part 1)

name:y/n L/n (your name + last name)

Age:18 (in college)

Relationship : u are ex girlfriend to Jason Todd and have a rather toxic dorm mate

warning:idk language hinted sex and emotional Jason 🥺

info:Bruce is yet to announce Jason’s return

Jason Todd was your boyfriend the one you loved more then life itself but he was taken from you just as things were getting good. You and Jason had lost your verginaty to one another you stole that boy’s heart (and hoodies) but that monster took him from you at only 16 he was dead and you were never quite the same.

Now as red hood he couldn’t help but check up on you by sitting on the roof side of the building opposite your dorm window just to get a glimpse of your eyes again. One off these nights he was sat eating a sandwich Alfred gave him as lunch that he had forgotten about watching as you sat reading a work book. After a while you stood up to put it back on the shelf which revealed exactly what you were wearing skin tight black leggings and a slightly big red T shirt with the words “I 🤍 books” in bold which Jason noticed and was shocked to see as you never read a book for fun that was surprisingly one of the reasons your relationship always worked you could be sat on Jason’s bed listening to the playlist Jason made for you on his vhs tape and Jason could be next to you with book in hand other playing with your hair peaceful for hours one end so why the hell did you have that shirt? “Oh come on really you need to move on from that street rat Jason!” Came a voice from inside the dorm “jace was not a street rat and no I don’t think I will Lexy!” You responded as you put on a knitted hat (from Alfred) and shoes “Y/N it’s been 4 years yet you still refuse to move on wearing his old shirt visiting his grave every chance you get you’re going to get yourself killed walking around Gotham alone!” Lexy said grabbing your hand as you walked towards the door “I don’t give a fuck about my life I’d rather just let the fucking joker beet the shit out of me so I don’t have to wack up knowing Jason isn’t there next to me and he never will be so get the hell off me!”you shouted grabbing your bag before storming out with tears in your eyes Jason hated seeing you like this in all honesty he thought you had moved on but as far he could see you definitely had not. Jason wiped the tears forming in his eyes and made his way back to the manor.

At around 10pm Tim was sat watching a movie with dick sat with him .Rain hit agents the windows wich meant the Ty had to be all the way up so everyone could hear. When all of a sudden the door knocked and Alfred came out of the kitchen to answer. He opened the door to see you standing there soaking wet “hay Alfred” you said as you walked in the house “good evening miss L/N what do we owe the pleasure for you to come in this time?” Alfred said closing the door. “Well it’s Tim’s birthday sio though I’d drop by.” You answered pluling out a plastic bag full of cookies. “Y/N! YOU CAME!” Tim said running over to you before hugging you tightly. “Happy 11th birthday Timmy” you said picking him up and handing him a cookie before kissing his forehead dick came round to where you were and hugged you before Tim pushed him away. “My y/n!” He declared cookie in hand holding on to your arm. You and dick laughed before you put Tim down to try and find one of his presents he wanted to show you from upstairs. Just then you heard a weirdly familiar voice “Jesus Christ. You’re fucking strong for a replacement!” Said the voice “well you were in the way!” You both hurd Tim yell. You stood up from the table where you and dick had been talking “hay Y/N you don’t want to go out there!” Dick said holding your arm “what!? Tim could be hurt I’m going” you said walking out to see tim and a familiar person arguing on the stars the man holding his gut and tim hand over eye the other holding his gift “tim! Are you ok?!” You said running over and crouching down to his hight to check his eye. But then you and the other guy locked eyes. They were green but had turned a shade of gray blue you recognise those eyes not the previous neon green no you knew these eyes they were normal to anyone else but for you well you could look into them all day if you could then it just hit you. “Jace?”

[neeneee]

Say It {Rengoku Kyojuro x fem!reader}

SPOILERS AHEAD!!! If you haven't watched Mugen train and finished the manga do not read below the cut xoxo

Based on Yorushika's 'say it', idk if y'all will enjoy this, but it honestly made me cry while writing it, I hope it does you guys too. :) It's much sadder if you kinda imagine the scenes like in a movie, its very touching, if i say so myself.

3.5k words bro, I'm so proud of myself!!!

“You’re being reckless, (Y/n),” Giyuu admonished the girl, frowning a little at her behavior. “You’re acting impulsively, it’s going to get you killed.”

She shrugged and turned her back on him, walking away from the water pillar; She made no effort to loosen her cramped finger form the hilt of her chipped weapon. The metal of the katana had been stained by the demon’s disgusting blood, but she ignored it, like she’d been ignoring everything for the past five months.

Tomioka had reprimanded her many times for how she’d been acting, throwing herself at danger whenever it presented itself. He knew she was a skilled slayer, and her position was proof enough, but she still had to take time and assess the situation, not throw herself into battle and just hope for it to go well.

His blue eyes watched her march into the butterfly estate; she said nothing and simply allowed them to tend to her wounds, never letting go of her weapon.

(E/c) eyes stared up at the ceiling; She made no sounds of discomfort as the girls cleaned the cuts and gashes all over her body, pouring alcohol over them and bandaging them.

Suddenly a memory flashed in her mind; she could see her beloved’s face and feel the warmth of his skin against hers. The sun over her and the feeling of the breeze softly caressing her back. She could clearly see how his eyes set on her and the emotions they held. The warmth of his gaze enveloped her and lulled her to ease.

“When I return from this mission there is something I must tell you!”

A small smile formed on the girl’s face; her eyes softened at the blonde’s comment.

“Goodbye, Kyojuro-san,” He smiled and patted her head, a habit he had picked up ever since they met. Her lips parted once again to say something, but the words died in her throat, so she shut her mouth again and continued to smile. The man’s back turned and he left; She mentally praised how confident he was, how the security radiated off of him in waves, she could almost see the burning passion he so often spoke about and promised herself that she’d tell him as soon as he returned.

The words were forever left unspoken between them, and there was nothing she regretted more than that.

Her throat burned with unreleased sobs as she watched his image slowly fade into nothingness, the perpetual state she found herself in ever since that night. She had tried to forget the words he’d told her before his departure, they represented another weight in her heart, an incognita that would never be solved. She was left with the burden of every story, now forced to live and deal with every memory on her own, no one to share it with. Part of her knew what he wanted to say, but she needed to hear him say it.

Surely, on the last day of her life, remorse will be pulling at her and berating her for everything she didn’t say, every word that didn’t spill out of her mouth and into his ears. Now, the three words danced around her mind, scolding her for not letting them out and mocking her for being a coward.

Her limbs twitched and trembled, as if bearing a weight too big for her frail body. Faith had laughed in her face, it took all her hopes by the throat and mocked her, it mocked her for being stupid. For not accepting that this is the destiny of the demon slayers; a destiny written the moment they took the oath, they were to die for the good of humanity, for the greater good. Every dead slayer was a step closer to succeeding and even if it didn’t seem like it, they were making progress.

So why couldn’t she accept that fate, why was she trying to reject destiny, just who does she think she is?

The katana finally fell out of the grasp of her clenched finger, startling the girls working around her. Her weak hands rose to cover her face and she cried into them, not caring if anyone saw her. This had been the first time she cried since her crow hesitantly told her the unfortunate news of the flame hashira’s departure.

She’d finally come to terms with the fact that for months she refused to believe, convincing herself she was being forced to sleep through a horrible nightmare, that some cruel higher force was obligating her to sleep through the night and to live a life without him. And then the anger laced with guilt gripped at her heart, weaving rotten thoughts into her head.

She remembered the boys sent on the mission with him, and all the passengers of the train and even the children used by one of the demons.

Why had everyone but him returned? Why was she forced to see everyone nursed back to health while her Kyojuro was dead? Why?

The memories flowed into her unwilling mind, and she started to remember everything she had forcibly forgotten in hopes of curing her own heart and carrying on. Her heart and mind fought a useless battle, one to feed her delusion and empty dreams. Her heart yearned for a note to be left at her door, ‘let’s meet tomorrow morning’. The notes Kyojuro had a habit of slipping under her door whenever he didn’t want to disturb her but wished to communicate with her.

She knew he was dead, but still.

A sad laugh escaped her lips and her arms dropped to her sides, she continued to stare at the ceiling and hoped he wasn’t watching her from wherever he was, not wanting him to ever witness how truly pathetic she was, how she wasn’t as strong as he had thought she was; Surely, he would call her stubborn and beg her to move on, but how could she? She couldn’t be at peace knowing that she felt just as he did but never let him know.

Everything would’ve been so much easier if he’d just put it into words, say it loud enough for her to hear him, not expect her heart to just understand whatever he had tried to convey through actions. If she ever saw him again, even if in a dream, she’d scream at him and at everyone willing to listen, how Rengoku Kyojuro was the love of her life.

The days passed in a blur, until they became months, until she found herself standing in a mansion, growing desperate as the walls twisted and turned to a demon’s will. Again, her heart numbed and the grip on her katana tightened. She stared at the tattooed demon disintegrate out of his own will, and anger bubbled up in the pit of her stomach. A scream formed at the back of her throat, and she let it go freely, Tanjiro and Tomioka cringed at the guttural wails escaping the woman’s lips, before she fell to her knees. Tears mixed with the blood on her face, her free hand clawed at her face in a desperate attempt to wake herself up from this horrible nightmare.

Tanjiro looked at Giyuu’s knowing eyes in confusion, expecting an explanation, but the water pillar remained silent and stared at the girl. He didn’t have the heart to tell him about her and how she loved the flame pillar, about how she’d bow to kill the demon who took him from her. He understood her frustration, despite being beheaded, the creature decided not to die and instead chose to part on its own terms, a fate he did not deserve.

“(L/n)-san, please pull yourself together, this is not over!”

His words seemed to calm her, but the look in her eyes was chilling, and Tanjiro could smell the array of emotions she’d been feeling. Anger, sadness, loneliness and longing. Before they could go to her, the room shifted once again, and she was gone.

Her katana slashed through every demon she came across with a vengeance, her movements were impatient and out of control. The memories of the blonde raced through her mind and blinded her further, she searched for Muzan through the mansion, confident that she’d kill him, the cause of her misfortune. The death of her parents, her siblings, Shinobu, Rengoku.

The crow announcing the death of Tokito and Sanemi’s brother only fueled her anger further, as she rampaged through the building, killing anything that came into her path. “Muzan has revived, Pillars must gather at once!” She skidded to a halt and followed the crow, once again, she found herself in the presence of Giyuu and Tanjiro. Muzan’s figure also became clear, and he looked nothing as he did before, she had never seen him very clearly, but he looked nothing like what she remembered from that night.

Her mouth dried and the hairs on the back of her neck stood, but she wasn’t going to back down.

“(Y/n), Tanjiro,” Tomioka warned sternly, holding his arms out to stop them both. “Calm down.”

“Persistent.” Was the first thing he said, looking at the trio like scum. “You’re all seriously persisten and it bores me. It sickens me from the bottom of my heart. Whenever you open your mouth you only remember that one dumb notion that you can avenge your parents, kids, siblings. You’ve all survived, that should be enough for you.”

They all stared in disbelief at his monologue, how he undermined their feelings, their loss. He spoke about their loved ones as if they were a nuance and they should be glad they’d been exterminated. (Y/n)’s blood boiled at the sight of him, the initial fear had bubbled into pure wrath. The emotion sunk its fangs into her heart and darkened it, clouding her judgment and consciousness.

“So, your family got slaughtered, what’s the problem here? Think of yourself lucky for surviving and go back to the way you were living before.”

“What… what are you saying?” Tanjiro was the only one to speak, putting into words what they all wanted to ask.

“Think of it this way, being killed by me is like a calamity. You don’t need to think hard about it,” His tone changed, as if he was making fun of them. “Wind, rain, volcanoes, earthquakes. No one swears revenge on a natural disaster, no matter how many lives it takes.” He continued to ramble on his nonsense, uncaring of the boiling anger growing within the people standing before him. Tanjiro spoke, but the woman couldn’t hear him; Her ears were ringing so loudly she could only heart the sound of her own heartbeat, a coldness spread through her body replacing the initial heat that had consumed her.

A cloud of haze settled over her eyes, and she attacked indiscriminately. Her brain and muscles weren’t in sink, her body was acting out of survival instinct, rage and impulse. She delivered attack after attack, trying to do as much damage as she could to his body, but everything was failing. Kanroji, Giyuu and Obanai were also trying their hardest, nothing seemed to be working. No matter how many breaths he received nothing was causing lasting damage to him.

Even when the building shifted, and the pressure became too much, she continued to try to move towards Muzan. The image of her mother and father calling to her, her siblings cheering on her, Kanae and Shinobu asking her to be strong flashed before her eyes and she couldn’t allow herself to be defeated.

“The night is beautiful.”

‘Fight!’ The voice of her mother rang in her ears, causing her to frown.

“Huh?”

‘It’s not over, fight!’ Her father urged.

“(L/n)-san!”  Tanjiro’s voice snapped her out of her daydream, she stood in a hurry shoving rubble off of her. The wood had made numerous cuts and scrapes on her legs and arms, but she ignored everything and pushed forward.

She pushed, and pushed, and pushed herself. Every breath form she knew and the one Rengoku taught her. Her repeated them as many times as she needed to. She watched as the younger ones stood infront of them, receiving the attacks from Muzan, dying instantly. Their words and cries rung in her airs, Kanroji screaming at them to stop and Tanjiro’s gasping, so she pushed forward, not stopping when she was severely wounded. When Giyuu’s arm was cut, when Himejima lost his leg, when Obanai lost his eyes, when her hand and eye were gone, she pushed forward, holding her katana in one hand and wrapping part of her haori around her bleeding wrist. Despite Muzan growing angrier and his attacks more vicious and frantic, she pushed herself.

Her vision clouded and she fell to the ground, not strong enough to hold her body. She could hear Kanroji’s and Obanai’s whispers of love, promising each other to meet in a different life and love each other properly; She felt no jealousy, instead her aching heart was filled with peace and slowly, she drifted to sleep.

She felt her mother’s arms wrapped around her; the rest of her family followed. Tears flowed freely and she hugged them back, allowing herself to be pulled on to her knees.

“(Y/n)-san?”

Slowly, her eyes opened, and she gasped; Slowly she pulled herself away from her family and ran to him; Rengoku’s smile never faltered, his eyes held the same intensity as they ever did, and he was clad in his priced slayer uniform. With no doubt or restraint, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close to her.

“I missed you, Kyojuro-san.”

The words tumbled out of her mouth with no hesitation; his embrace tightened around her, feeling the tears seep onto his clothes. She sobbed loudly into his chest, refusing to let go of him, desperately searching for the sound of his heartbeat.

“Would you like to have a date with me?” He smiled, his hands rested on her shoulder, and he separated her from himself, which she reluctantly allowed. “That is what I wanted to say that day, but I decided to use that trip to build enough courage to let you know.”

“I already knew, but I needed you to say it properly.”

His laugh echoed in the garden they stood in, and she laughed along with him. When his laughter died down, his lips set a kiss on the top of her head.

“You should go back now.”

“What? No! I’m happy here!”

“It’s not your time, (Y/n).”

“I’ll search for you, in every life, as long as it takes!”

His smile widened and she was pulled away, she desperately struggled to stay, reaching out to them. Her siblings waved at her goodbye, as did her parents. She fought on, trying to stay a little while longer, her family turned to walk away, but he was still there, staring at her. Despair built within her with every inch of distance growing between them.

“Say it! Kyojuro, say it properly!”

“I love you, (Y/n)-san!”

“I love you, too, Kyojuro!” She screamed; tears started to flow once again but she made no effort to wipe them away, continuing to fight. “More, more, say it!”

“I love you; I love- “

Her eye snapped open to the glowing sun, the sun she could feel but not see; The kakushi around her cheered, happy they hadn’t lost another member. A smile formed on her face, despite the pain she was feeling, and her vision being gone, she smiled.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine now, I heard you wear an eyepatch now,” (Y/n) joked, still holding the stick that had been given to her by Aoi. “Mind giving me one?”

“You’d look real flamboyant in it.” Tengen answered, ruffling her hair with his one hand. “I never got to give you my condolences, after Rengoku.”

“Thank you, Uzui-san.”

“Is this (Y/n)-san?” A foreign voice asked, she didn’t recognize that person, it seemed to be a boy but she' couldn’t see 'd never heard him before.

“Ye’, I’ll leave you two to it, M’gonna visit Kamado-kun. Bye, (Y/n)-chan.”

“Bye, Tengen.”

“Uh-uhm, my name is Rengoku Senjuro and this is my father, Rengoku Shinjuro,” The boy spoke again, she perked up at the mention of their names. Now she knew, they were Kyojuro’s family. “We heard you and my brother were a couple, so we wanted to thank you for taking care of my brother. when we couldn't.”

The man said nothing but patted her head once again. “You would’ve made a beautiful bride for my son.”

“I-“ She muttered, trying to find the words, Shinjuro smiled weakly as he noticed the bandages around her eyes start to dampen. “We never got to be a couple…”

“It’s okay, nee-san, father decided that you’re a Rengoku now!” The boy exclaimed, setting a ring in her trembling hands. “Tengen-san told us the whole story, if nii-san loved you so much, he would surely want you to have this.”

She smiled and nodded, hugging the metal to her chest.

“Can you take me to Kamado Tanjiro’s room?”

The boy took her hand in his and helped her out of bed, she followed both men to the boy’s room, she didn’t know how many people were there, but it seemed like the room was crowded. Kyojuro’s father seemed to be reluctant, so it took her and Senjuro to pull him into the room, with Tengen encouraging him to enter.

Senjuro’s grip on her hand loosened, she could hear Tanjiro and his sister giggling. She allowed Shinjuro and the boy to speak, before she asked any questions or said anything. She didn’t even notice he was fighting with the late hashira’s emblem, she internally scolded herself for being so enraged that she didn’t notice her surroundings.

“Eh, Kamado-kun,” She finally uttered, the room went silent, and she could feel everyone’s gaze on her. “Thank you for being by Kyojuro’s side when he- he…”

“(Y/n)-san, I’m sorry for not being able to do more,” The boy apologized, but before she could protest, he continued. “I never got the chance to give you his message; He asked me to tell you that there’s a gift for you in his room.”

“How fitting…” The woman smiled as she felt the details of the kanzashi, she could feel the little flames shaped ornaments hanging from a pin; They made a pleasant little sound when they moved. She pinned it to her hair and smiled, imagining how they looked. It must’ve looked strange with her purple kimono -Senjuro had told her the color- with the yellow and orange flames, but she didn’t care.

(L/n) (Y/N) wore that kanzashi until the day of her death, with her a short and strenuous breath she uttered his name and the words she meant to tell him all those years ago. With a smile she let out her last breath, knowing she’d meet him again, soon. Nothing she’d done had been in vain, and even if she hadn’t gotten the story she wished for, she was grateful for the one she got, even the sad and painful moments of it.

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself, Toujuro-kun.” (Y/n) Scolded the boy, who seemed to have too much energy despite only sleeping a few hours.

“I know, but I just get so focused that I don’t even notice the time,” The boy said, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish smile. “Dad keeps having to slap me.”

“That’s scary.” She shuddered, sitting beside the boy, handing him a bento-box. “But he’s probably just concerned.”

“I guess so.” He laughed, gladly taking the box, accidentally brushing his hand with hers.

They stared at each other for a moment before looking away, red as beets. A familiar feeling settled in their chests; it was foreign yet nostalgic. The girl stared at him with a look he couldn’t describe.

Toujuro and (Y/n) had known each other their entire lives, and she had taken it upon herself to feed his almost insatiable appetite, and he would help her with her history homework. They had been inseparable from the moment they laid eyes on each other, and no one had been able to pull them apart. They threw monumental tantrums the moment their parents even mentioned them attending different middle-schools.

“I feel like I met you before, Toujuro-kun.”

“We’ve known each other since we were babies…”

“No, like- like in another life.”

“(Y/n)-san-“ He cut himself off, blushing profusely. She waited for him, expectantly. She silently urged him to continue, even though deep down she knew what he was about to say.

“Say it out loud.” she ordered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Eh?” Toujuro looked close to combustion, she’d never seen him that red in her life. “Wha-what?”

“Say it, properly.” She said once more, she could see him gulp and take a deep breath.

“I love you, (Y/n)-chan!” He exclaimed, startling a few of the people around them, but he didn’t seem to care at the moment, all of his attention was on her. “Would you like to go out with me?” She didn’t know if he meant for it to be so loud, and despite the embarrassment she was feeling, she nodded with a small smile.

“See you on Friday, at Obanai-san’s restaurant.”

 His smile widened and he nodded. Finally, something inside her felt right, like she was complete at last.

[all-things-gothic12]

FAV GOTH CHARACTERS

For my fifth post I  want to share some of my favourite gothic characters in the media (shows, comics, movies, etc).

For the first character in this list I wanted to touch on one of my favourite characters if not one of my fav gothic films of all time. The Crow is an amazing film and of course, so is the main character: Eric Draven. As you can see from the picture below in his iconic outfit; the coat, the latex pants, the belts, the wire. Not to forget his makeup, the white base and the edgy black lips and eyes further correlating to gothic aesthetics. Everything is put together absolutely perfectly to fit the overarching darker aesthetics of the film itself and also his character. For a brief explanation of his character, he’s driven by a primary form of revenge, hoping to avenge someone close to him who perished. He gets help from a ‘crow’ obviously that’s where the title comes from lol. Other than his exterior appearance, Eric Draven shows a ton of other gothic elements as a character, the darker drive, the darker emotions and the darker reasonings that all fit seamlessly into the category of goth-ness within the media itself!

For the second character in this list I wanted to touch on a character a lot of people probably know of, Marla Singer from Fight Club. A great character with tons of flaws, she definitely stands out in a film about two (one) men lol. Now, many people have varying opinions on whether or not she’s goth. But I chose to include her in this list because she definitely presents a tone of gothic elements within both her aesthetic and her outlook on life. As seen below she wears all black, has ratty hair and wears black centred makeup. All making up a great aesthetic that definitely plays into a certain gothic element. Her personality is also super telling, where she has again, like Eric Draven more darker views/aesthetics on certain topics. And although being goth does not mean that these views are absolute. Within media a lot of the time these sorts of characters are presented more inclined to darker viewpoints because of their gothic disposition as not only a plot point but as an aesthetic.

Thirdly, Lisbeth Salander, again probably one of my favourite characters in all of media but also one of my favourite more gothic inclined characters. Being introduced from the book ‘The girl with the dragon tattoo’, I’m going to be more so pulling elements from her on screen performance in the movie version starring Rooney Mara. As shown below, you can see that her hair, piercings and overall aesthetic definitely play into, again, that gothic vibe. Not only do her looks represent that gothic aesthetic but also her job (lol) and style of life. I should also mention that like The Crow, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo has a tone of different goth-industrial songs, which totally pushes the gothic agenda/vibe that they’re going for!

Fourthly I want to bring up an iconic comic and recently show character. Morpheus or more commonly known as The Sandman. A character directly from the mind of Neil Gaiman and others. To begin, from his comic appearance it’s obvious that he’s goth. From his hair and dark clothes his aesthetic is reminiscent of Robert Smith’s looks from the 80s. Not only that but this iteration of the Greek god Morpheus, God of Dreams is much darker with a larger emphasis on the, again, goth aesthetic lol. His on screen appearance is also just as goth, with the show including tones of gothic undertones, his voice, his appearance (of course). And the overall setting that he himself is placed in. (On a separate note, I recommend watching the show as it’s pretty short and on Netflix).

Lastly, I want to spiel about a gothic character very dear to my heart in relation to the source material she comes from lol. Saki Hanajima is a goth character from the animanga Fruits Basket. Probably my favourite manga of all time lol. In regards to Saki, she herself dresses in total black at all times, never once is she seen wearing any other colour (other than her mandatory school uniform). This fact plays heavily into her goth/edgy vibe. She also wears a ton of clothes that take direct inspiration from victorian/romantic era goths. Not to forget, one of the gimmicks she has is she’s able to send telepathic waves/vibes to others, primarily negative. This ability also plays heavily into her aesthetic as a goth character. (As something super popular within goth media is ghosts, communication with them, etc.)

Thanks for reading my blog, down below are some honourable mentions that appeal to that certain goth aesthetic but because this post is already to long I won’t talk about them.

Re-L (Ergo Proxy) , Uta (Tokyo Ghoul), Charles-Henri Sanson (Innocent)

[cyanyways]

Deciding to try a new thing! Gonna be posting a new 3x3 topster once a week on Wednesday . Whenever I get to it. Keep in mind that these aren’t definitive lists and not ordered. Each post will also come with a list of each album going left to right top down, and a little blurb about it and what I think of it. And till I get through them all the theme is gonna be colors!

Today’s is red!

•By The Time I Get To Phoenix- injury reserve

First off, RIP GROGGS. Second I’ve always loved this album but wow oh my god in relistening to it recently it has absolutely cemented itself as one of my all time favorites. Well and truly a “post rap” album, and he emergence of a new genre is always a fascinating thing to see happen. I believe in 10-15 years this albums influence will be heard, maybe not in the mainstream but certainly heard. This album sounds like chest pain. You wake up and you feel a hand on your chest pushing your ribs into your own body, it’s hot and you’re sweating but you can’t take the blankets off because it hurts too much. That’s what this album sounds like

favorite songs: Knees, Bye storm

•Watching movies with the sound off- Mac miller

I wasn’t quite around as a Mac fan when tbis album first came out but In relistening to his discography I can 100% see how this was a turning point for so many people and this album was what made so many people a fan. You could definitely hear hints of this sort of laid back/life is good style on some previous works (especially macadellic) but this is where you hear it come into full swing. I love this album so much and listening to it while driving around in the fall is an unforgettable feeling.

favorite song: objects in the mirror

•I’m On To Me- Rav

Rav is one of my favorite rappers active right now and his recent run of projects absolutely cements him as such. This album and one he put out last year, leap serve as somewhat of a duology this album featuring the decent into depression and hopelessness and leap serving as the ascent. Fittingly then this album is so despondent in its delivery. So many of the songs are just so lethargic and almost wallowing in their displays of depression but never slowing quite enough to allow you to get comfortable with any of the feelings presented. The beats, which to my knowledge are mostly produced by Rav himself, feature beautiful samples of jazz rnb and some instrumental tracks have been warped and filtered to reflect such an altered worldview, drum patterns are slow and heavy, albums like this and earl sweatshirts some rap songs in my eyes have some of the greatest depictions of depression ive come across, not as a crushing sadness but as the lack of emotion at all.

Favorite song: Molasses

•Stranger- yung lean

It’s a little hard to explain why I love yung lean so much, but I think it’s got a little to do with how he feels sort of like cloud rap in its final form. Obviously whitearmor being the production GOD that he is helps with that, but really I think it’s a collaborative effort. So much of his music is emotionally charged to a degree where I can’t help but wonder what kinda shit he’s been through. And obviously knowing some of that makes it all the stronger.

Favorite songs: Agony, Red bottom sky

•When the pawn- Fiona apple

Angrier than most heavy metal albums. If you’re a woman or have any fem-adjacent identity it’s one you absolutely NEED to listen to . She’s a generational talent and this is her strongest effort. Though all of her projects are each some of the best that respective decade. This album leans away from some of the folk influences you can see across her discography, characterized by more piano ballad/chamber pop sounding songs. That’s not an indictment at all, they’re still incredible.

Favorite songs: I know, the way things are, get gone.

•Burial- Burial

Burial is quite possibly one of the most interesting artists of all time to me. His style of music is genuinely so singular in a way that I dont see anywhere else. Usually in an artists style you can see hints of the people and movements that inspired him, but with burial, there’s nobody that sounds like him, and he sounds like nobody else. I saw a comment once that said “burials style is like a butterfly, you can hold it, you can look at it, but if you try to keep it in your hands, it won’t be beautiful anymore.” This isn’t quite at the level of his 2007 magnum opus untrue, but it’s still a damn good ambient record.

Favorite song: forgive

•Heaven or Las Vegas- Cocteau Twins

You know em, if you’re cool you love em- Cocteau twins. This album is someone’s teenage years. It’s not mine but it’s someone’s, and I’d love to sit down and talk with them one day. I have a feeling they’ll be able to help me.

Favorite song: Iceblink Luck

•Lamp- Lamp Genso

Just a very sweet, gentle album. Super relaxing vocals, and some of the best jazz instrumentals I’ve heard in a while. Idk I don’t have too much to say on this album, the music just speaks for itself.

Favorite song:Yume Utsutsu

•Geogaddi- Boards of Canada

BOC fits in a weird place for me musically. They’re just as similar to other artist that I listen to that I often forget them. But every time I return to them I instantly remember how unique they are. This album is their best work to me. Though Music Has The Right To Children us undeniably equally as seminal, this album is in a league of its own. I’m constantly in love with it. Each track is so layered with unique elements and vocals and samples, the synths feel like ocean tides, it’s just addictive.

[chlocent]

"they are just husbands. i am evelyn hugo."

a blog by chloe denise nunag of bs psy 2a.

taylor jenkins reid is an american author, well known for her works like daisy jones & the six, malibu rising, after i do, and most notably, the seven husbands of evelyn hugo.

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo is one of the most treasured pieces of literature in the book community. but what is it about, really?

this is a peek into tshoeh, an unbiased and non-spoiling review to get you to read it as well.

for a short background, the seven husbands of evelyn hugo is centered on hollywood movie icon, evelyn hugo. decades have passed since her peak and golden days, and now, she is finally ready to let the public in on the truth about her rather scandalous (love) life.

scandalous, how? well, as the title indicates, hugo married seven times in her life, and this has been a hot topic among the people for years and counting.

with this, monique grant, a journalist for a prestigious magazine, is contacted for a sit-down with hugo. now, hugo has never done exclusive interviews throughout her career, especially not about her private life. so for grant, this could be the scoop that will boost her position in the company and change her career forever.

hugo tells grant about each of her marriages in detail from the first to the last, and grant listens and takes careful note of each one. however, as the book progresses, one would realize that it is not simply a coincidence that hugo personally chooses grant to write her biography.

why?

well, that's reason number one for you to pick up a copy and start diving into hugo's vibrant life.

the story in itself is captivating, but the characters you will definitely fall in love with; evelyn hugo is complex and sometimes morally gray, not often by choice as she was only ever navigating her way through the messy hollywood scene. she is the personification of the idea that is beauty and brains: beautiful, sexy, smart, sensual and ambitious. but she is also mean and calculating, having used people to get what she wanted.

and i'd talk about her seven husbands in detail, but as this review is spoiler-free, i will describe them the way hugo did; poor ernie diaz, goddamn don adler, gullible mick riva, clever rex north, brilliant, kindhearted, tortured harry cameron, disappointing max girard, and agreeable robert jamison.

then, there is also celia st. james, another one of the most famous actresses of hollywood's golden age alongside hugo. being "america's sweetheart", st. james intimidates hugo with her talent in acting, which sparks a rivalry between the two.

of course, there is monique grant. she is charismatic, driven, and like hugo, ambitious. she is a commendable black woman in journalism, consistently standing out for her works, notably for her piece on the right to die.

and that's reason number two for you to grab a copy, physical or virtual.

lastly, aside from the story and the characters, taylor jenkins reid has a way with words that will engulf you in hollywood's golden age and the present time. she stripped bare the movie industry, and she will make you question the truth about the celebrities we know and the lives they present to the public.

she will also make feel a (crazy) range of emotions. one second, you love evelyn hugo, then you hate her the next. reid will make you laugh, then cry. you will be filled with fury with the actions and words hugo leaves, then feel for her and the things she has to go through.

then, there are also the newspaper articles and letters from the past, as well as the features of the present.

more importantly, it is real and raw in a sense that it shows the reality of life and love—how it's never easy, how it's not as glamorous as presented in other forms of media; life is full of twists we never expect, and love will consume you alive.

ultimately, the book was structured and written in a manner that will leave you wondering about what comes next until you are just incapable of putting it down.

yes, that's reason number three of why you need to get into tshoeh as soon as you can.

overall, i can say that the seven husbands of evelyn hugo left me with no words. but at the same time, i have a million things to say. when i first read it, i completed it in one sitting. it was 4 in the morning when i bawled as quietly as i could as to not wake up and alarm the other people in the house.

it's that good.

so, it's your move now. (cmon, put tshoeh in your shopping cart, and check it out Right Now.)

[thefloatingstone]

More of a suggestion if you wanna watch a Holocaust film that isnt so traumatic as Schindler's List or the Pianist, Life is Beautiful is actually a really good film on the subject even using the theme of "humor can get you through the worst"

I think I am vaguely aware of "Life is Beautiful".

I think a big problem behind movies that deal with the Holocaust is that there is a very fine line between accurate portrayal in a way I can emotionally handle, and a portrayal that sanitises the event to a degree where it becomes insulting (see: Boy in the Striped Pajamas).

I still find Maus to be the best balance in terms of fully giving a first hand account of the full horrors of surviving the Holocaust but due to the presentation of being both a book as well as the art giving just enough degree of separation where I don't feel like I want to die afterwards for a full month after finishing it.

It's difficult tho because I can never fully predict WHAT will trip up the little switch in my head which makes a WWII set story deeply traumatic for me to watch. I have never watched "Saving Private Ryan" but I have no interest in doing so. Because I watched History Buff's video on in and the clip of the kid lying on the Normandy beach crying for his mom bothered me so much I completely swore off ever watching the movie.

It's a really difficult balance and I try my best to listen to people's experiences with war films and how hard it hits, specifically around WWII (although not always. For instance I also have 0 interest in ever watching "Come and See" based on its reputation and I can't remember if that is WWII adjacent or if it's specifically the Belarusian war. Either way I know the movie's reputation and despite Mosfilms making it free on their youtube channel, I know I can't handle that one.)

I feel it's worth mentioning that when I was 16 we studied WWII in high school for a month or so, and our teacher had us watching recreation footage of the Nuremberg Trials which included real life footage taken by the Allies of the concentration camps. And when you're 16 that kind of imagery hits extremely hard and puts things into a much more realistic perspective. (also pretty sure I read Maus for the first time when I was 16 as well but I can't fully recall)

Although in all honesty, most historically accurate films upset me greatly depending on the subject matter. Weirdly enough, I do better with documentaries revolving around these types of subjects than I do film. It's probably something to do with emotional separation which documentaries tend to have versus film which specifically design themselves for emotional response.

Anyway I'm rambling.

I think I have had enough exposure to the Holocaust in narrative media where I would rather stick with watching documentaries about the subject matter I haven't watched before, and just sticking to re-reading Maus and similar accounts in book form. Rather than watch narrative movies about the subject itself.

That being said tho, apparently there's a 4 part miniseries from 1978 called "Holocaust" which, after being released in Germany, was so affecting that during the discussion panel that ran after each episode had German citizens phoning in either enraged saying the show was purely fiction and nothing of the sort happened, or in contrast, SEVERAL German citizens phoning in to confess how in 1938 they participated in Kristallnacht. I might be able to watch that one. And although it is about fictional characters (for the most part) I also need to finish Osamu Tezuka's "Adolf" which I stopped halfway due to how upsetting it was. As well as continue my man Shigeru Mizuki's manga "Showa" which I also stopped reading for a short time to take a break from the events at the start of the series (I haven't even gotten to WWII in that manga series yet. So I don't know if he covers the holocaust specifically as he is writing pure from a Japanese point of view).

Anyway my point is, I am very careful with my exposure just because I have severely upset myself in the past regarding this subject matter. So I'm always trying to find methods to learn more about the subject matter from accurate sources in a way where I won't severely cause lasting emotional damage to myself. But because of that I tend to avoid films and rather seek it out elsewhere.

[itzsanya]

Light's Out!!

“Cinema”, the word itself is derived from the Greek word “kinema”, meaning movement, short for the French word cinematographer, coined by two brothers Auguste and Louis Lumiere. But in today’s time the word may beg to differ. It has different characteristics after all. In the 19th century the Lumiere brothers captured and demonstrated their first work in 1893 in Paris France which was a huge success, and after that, people from all around the world tried to capture and present their work and it was the start of what we call nowadays FILMMAKING. At this point we have numerous amounts of categories of filmmaking for e.g. (T.V, streaming series, AR-VR, movies).

The cinematic language can express as many emotions as human beings consist of. Can show sorrow/joy in the form of poetry, shows how a simple shot can impact a life of a human being so easily. People who are very much engaged in films are now termed as CINEPHILE. From shooting in analogue camera to Imax 4d, we’ve certainly come a long way and our audience has changed accordingly from time-to-time shaking hands with technology in a peaceful way. Well it is said that every single thing has its pros and cons , talking about the pros the films we watch today are more of clear vision and we can see many unreal things , thanks to computer graphics , but the cons are as sad as the pros are as good, film in today’s date has occupied a commercial base rather than just showcasing art , it has created a certain level for the coming audiences, that many people refuse to watch films made in the 70s,80s, which showed real things and gave a message in the end , but nowadays people refuse to watch real topic films, as they are more engaged towards things to do with computer graphics. People are also very much considering this as a profession and some of them are really in this field to showcase what they think film as an art. There are as many legends as possible in this field, but the missing point here is that this field is very massive, talking about (directors, actors, cinematographers, screenwriters, editors, etc.). some of the greatest directors to ever exist are, Satyajit Ray, Martin Scorsese, Akira Kurosawa, Stephen Spielberg etc. and talking about actors the list is never-ending, Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Tom Hanks, Leonardo Dicaprio, Tom Cruise, etc

There are many films which are good but there are less films which are great, and by great, I mean great in everything in everything, the direction, the script, the acting, and the reality of the film. For e.g. The godfather trilogy is considered as one of the greatest movies of all time, it is said that many film schools teaches that movie to the students pursuing filmmaking as their career and the first Indian movie which got the attention of the west was Pether Panchali by Satyajit Ray.

Even the Bollywood is progressing now, some newly directors are bringing back the actual reality in films, with real topics like Masan by Neeraj Ghayan is an actual depiction of what a real heartbreak a person can go through.

And the very recent blockbuster, biopic of J. ROBERT OPPENHEIMER. Well, it is a big hit in the country, not because of the story but because of the director which is said to be Christopher Nolan. It is becoming a matter of great pride that most of our audiences are getting to know great films.

Now we can say we have come a long way.

PHOTO CREDITS-

@la_photolover

[doedipus]

I watched oppenheimer the other night and I think if I were to describe it with any single word it would be "overproduced"

nolan has never been very good at developing characters through dialogue, and I feel like this is probably the roughest it's been. trying to discuss the pre-bomb and post-bomb parts of rob's life led to an unfocused scope with dozens of characters that mostly were around for a small handful of scenes each, and human connection between characters was cut in order to make room for more plot points to happen. the emotional core of the film felt hollow while the runtime ballooned.

people mocked the movie when it came out for ostensibly being a pity party for a guy who led development of the bomb, but I felt like in the end the movie only weakly gestured towards rob's interiority at all. there are a handful of scenes where he seems nonplussed about the jingoism of wartime america and imagines the bomb being used on his own people, but these threads get lost in the weeds as nolan chooses to focus on things that are more interesting to him. and beyond that, his presence in his romantic relationships seems incidental and tertiary. rob is a very emotionally detached character, which frustrates his lovers periodically, but again, these threads are lost in the weeds and not followed up on satisfactorily. they briefly hint at his interest in various areas of spirituality, but it doesn't noticeably tie into the plot or imagery besides explaining where that one quote is from. he's one of the only characters with significant dialogue, but he still says very little.

nolan also clearly was very excited about drawing a parallel between rob and strauss, as this forms the core framing device(s) of the film, but without much development of strauss beyond and handful of scenes which were repeated every half hour or so, it's unclear what the parallel was supposed to mean. in the end they just seem like two public figures with a petty rivalry that got out of hand rather than, again, any particular insightful commentary on either. this whole arc of the movie is a huge culprit contributing to how convoluted the presentation is, and ultimately fails to justify itself.

and this is the case for so many more plot threads beyond this. like if nolan's aim here was to make a movie about a complicated guy that properly conveyed how convoluted and meandering his life was, that's interesting I guess, but a big part of the job of biographers and documentarians is to help filter and weave narratives out of the chaos of real life, and nolan has staunchly refused to do that at all.

with respect to the bomb itself, I feel like the discussion of it here was very lackluster. we're far enough removed from the event by now to have documented things like the actual contemporary debate around whether we should've used it, what the bomb, like, did, changing narratives about it afterwards, etc. but instead we're treated to the layer 1 "a land invasion of japan would've been too costly for everyone, so we used the bomb to force a quick end to the war" interpretation we've all heard in high school. they even bring up the euphemistic phrasing of "a vital war plant with a large number of workers closely surrounded by the workers' houses" or whatever, but this is accepted uncritically by the film and not like, analyzed at all. going too far into discussing postwar japan or whatever would be more needless scope bloat, but I feel like one of the villain characters quoting stats at rob, while elsewhere the typical line is toed as usual, was not sufficient and did not do the subject matter justice.

people have been comparing oppenheimer and ziller minus one for covering similar material, but like, the political bent of both is just... bad. ziller swings for the fences with the political commentary but strays into wildly misplaced sentimentality that comes off really bad at times, and oppenheimer is seemingly petrified to say fucking anything interesting about the debacle at all.

[cinnamonfknbuns]

5, 11 & 20 for any of ur oc ships/otp!

omg I didn't actually expect to get any asks, I saved it more for myself to reference later fhjagdj but now I'm excited to write yayyyy!!!!! thank uu :DDD

5: Describe their cozy night in.

— Utsuki/Haru:

Since both of them are high schoolers and live with their parents/guardians, spending a night together is kind of an occasion in of itself, but still, like, a cozy, casual "date"

it's girl's night! at least that's what Haru tells her parents ^^;;

they don't care, especially if Utsuki is staying over after a study session that went on too long. As long as their daughter is doing good in school it's fine

if they're not too tired and don't have class the next day, they'll make/get something sweet to eat, watch a nostalgic movie, maybe do a craft together and chat until the early morning, all as quietly as possible as to not bother anyone past bedtime

Haru isn't all that comfortable with touch, so she actually prefers to sleep in separate beds. it still feels very close tho, as they keep talking (whispering) to each other even after the lights are out, until one of them falls asleep <33

11: Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?

— Dália/Saeran & Ray

It depends on how long has passed since the events of the canon story, but mostly yes on Dália's side. I mean she doesn't even let HERSELF acknowledge those feelings...

I interpret Saeran as a system: host Saeran, who Dália is dating and is the one fronting most of the time; suit Saeran, who prefers to keep his distance from her (and vice versa tbh); and Ray, who is also kinda dating Dália but he fronts way less and isn't as present as Saeran, so their relationship is more of a d/s dynamic than that of girlfriend/boyfriend

Being the one that knows her best, host Saeran doesn't hide his feelings at all, and he notices if she tries to do so. It's also with him that she's most comfortable being open with, so note the "if"

Ray tries to hide his feelings bc he's ashamed, but fails. He's usually too flustered and in his own head to notice when Dália hides things from him, tho

Suit hides his feelings AND knows Dália also does, but he doesn't want to pry and just leaves it be. He feels guilty for what happened in the main story, and Dália keeps her distance bc she's too scared to confront her own feelings about it.

20: Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

— Lazarus/Griffith:

I like this one bc it focuses more on the 'secret' part of 'secret relationship', which is just crucial to laz and griff's whole thing

Before lovers, they're confidants. yeah, lazarus is completely obsessed with griffith, but griffith doesn't even like him that much (at least at first) The only reason he kept him around is because Lazarus offered a secrecy no one else could, and would THEN come to form a bond with him based on that trust.

Lazarus is basically the family doctor for the royalty, on top of being very knowledgeable about poisons and a bit of an alchemist (nerd) So his job is to listen to nobles sharing their physical weaknesses and gross secrets and telling them abt each different poison whenever someone feels like doing an assassination. (he never participates and will refuse to even listen to anything related, hes just a "I'm here to share my scientific expertise with my patients; whatever they choose to do with that information is not my business" kinda guy)

basically, he's privy to A LOT of stuff, and has lasted so long in that position bc he takes patient confidentiality REALLY FUCKING SERIOUSLY. and then he sees griffith for the first time ever and decides he'll make an exception for this random twink. lol.

So Griffith is drawn to him as a resource for political games and shit, right? but then, also, Lazarus is someone that Griffith doesn't have to impress. He's already obsessed with him, he's not a noble able to give him land or titles, and he's not a hawk putting his faith in Griffith's dream, so there's no outside pressure for Griffith to maintain his facade.

There's literally nothing Griffith COULD do that Lazarus would blame him for, even if it's outright evil shit. If Griffith is weak or tired or conflicted in front of Lazarus, he'd never tell anyone or think less of griffith, so it's him, and only him, that griff seeks out when he needs help

in short, their bond is based on that trust and secrecy rather than, like, attraction. they're not really lovers, i'd say they're co-conspirators with benefits 😌😌

[girl4music]

It’s not very often that I come across a piece of art/entertainment where I identify with it from the get go. With its themes or its lessons or its values etc… I usually tend to twist and turn that piece of art/entertainment into something that does resemble who I am, what I do and what I care about. I refer to doing that as artistic interpretation out of personal perception. I find a way that it relates to me or resonates with me and I teach that unique perspective to others who wish to listen and learn it. But on the off chance I do find a piece of art/entertainment that I can identify with immediately without twisting and turning it - without constructing through my consciousness and for my consumption… where the canon of it does actually say or do something for me… I pay a lot of attention to it. Sometimes its the only thing I can think about. It takes over my mind to the point where I cannot communicate with anyone without mentioning it in some form or some way. It takes priority for me.

You would think this level of identification with a piece of art/entertainment would be dangerous, right? And truth be told - it certainly can be if we forget to actually live in the meanwhile. However, there are so many benefits to it also when it comes to learning ourselves. Experience is the strongest and most intimate interaction we have with the world around us. It’s essentially something we always do - never stop doing. Experiencing. Since early childhood I have understood the world around me as an interpretation station. That is to say that I’ve always understood it as art/entertainment over what we call “reality”. Like one never ending sen surround 3D movie playing constantly that I am at the center of as the protagonist. Now the argument to that is “Life isn’t a movie”. So many people would tell you this if you explained this worldview to them the way I just have. No, life is not a movie. In fact life isn’t anything in specific. Life just is. It’s just THIS. What we always have here and now. The present moment. But we always choose how we interact with it. What we say; what we do; how we behave. How we look at it; what we perceive of it. Essentially, that’s how and why we exist. To generate information: pull it in and push it out. Our very life’s purpose is to experience oneself. We don’t know or don’t recognise that that’s what we’re doing, but I can assure you - we’re always doing it. We’re always creating and determining our experience. From one moment to the next. Life experience is art/entertainment. Of course it is. We don’t actually interact with it any other way. We might think or believe we do. But nope. We don’t. The information we get or the signal we pick up is always filtered by our perception: by our thoughts and emotions. By previous experiences: traumas, cultural upbringings and other influences on a constant, all the time and everywhere. Life (or reality, if you like) always is as we see it to be. As we experience it to be.

This isn’t new news. Eastern culture has been telling us that this is the way it is for millennia. That there’s nothing permanent or solid about “life” or “reality”. Life follows nature and nature is non-permanence. Nature never stays still. Nature is consistent change. And when you understand “life” or “reality” this way, a lot of other bits and pieces start to make sense - start to connect and fit together like one elaborate puzzle piece. From the scientific to the philosophical to the spiritual to the supernatural. It all essentially tells us the same thing. That it is not physics that runs the roost of how or why existence is. It’s consciousness. Of course physics itself as a doctrine is in a bit of a rut at the moment and has been for quite some time. Physicists can’t decide on one set of rules. At best they have a set of theories that have been tried and tested. And some work, some don’t. They do tend to always leave out or purposefully ignore the one component in physics that never leaves. And that is consciousness. Not necessarily human consciousness. Just consciousness. The ability to be aware of one’s own existence and that of the existence of other - seemingly separate or external to it. Or from a religious or spiritual perspective - to know what it is to experience the ever-present “I Am”.

This experience is constant. It’s the only way we can know anything of any significance whatsoever. It is absolutely fundamental to existence, life and reality. And it gets left out or purposefully ignored in scientific pursuit simply because scientists are afraid that what they believe to be how or why the Universe works the way it does is fundamentally flawed. Classical physics and the social construction of reality - that is the theory that permanence and solidity is external to and separate from consciousness. That if consciousness was not there - did not permeate everything, everywhere, all the time - this world would stand exactly as it stands to conscious perception. As humanity or indeed any consciousness experiences it. We don’t know this to be true. We only assume it to be. And it drives a rigorous classical physicist mad to not be able to work with their worldview without it in the way. Without their consciousness in the way of it.

Some time ago - back when I was in high school - I had an interest in becoming a theoretical physicist because - like Albert Einstein - I had an incessant interest in what makes the world work and how we - as human beings - relate to it. Relativity - both special and general - were of great interest to me. As was quantum physics. But I quickly realized that the way I understood the world - how I perceive it and the way I interact with it did not match what was being told to me. What I was being taught. There seemed to be the inherent belief (and it is a belief - it’s not fact) by my physics teacher that the Universe just existed in and of itself. Separate from and external to awareness. There’s even that old saying “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, did it make a sound?”. My answer was always a resounding “No!” Sensory information only exists within consciousness. However, I can debate on whether it made a vibration. Vibration being what’s there before consciousness converts it into sound. Vibration being energy and energy makes up everything there is in the Universe. I - of course - always agreed that energy is what exists separate from and external to consciousness. Energy is non-physical and as a specific kind (such as vibration, frequency or light) - non-permanent. As such - the electromagnetic spectrum of reality can absolutely and will exist outside of consciousness. But that does not prove solidity or permanence does. The way we perceive of “The Universe” is unique to us. And so I’d argue until the end of time itself that that perception is merely an illusion. However - an illusion that is very useful and beneficial to us and so should not be discounted and devalued as “of no matter”. There’s, of course, a lot we can learn through illusion. But at the same time, I do think it’s important that we acknowledge that “reality” isn’t really existing in the way we define the term “existence” to mean. That it is not physical, is not solid, is not permanent - is not just there separate from and external to consciousness. I have never in all my years living “in” this world interacted with the world as if it is there irrespective of my experience. Of experience with self and other. And if you guys think about it - … neither have you.

So why then do we have the insistent belief that it does? Social influence is the answer to that question. We’re told and taught that we’re “in” the world and not of it. That our species is not part of the nature of all that is. In the same way that animals and plants make up what it is we know “the world” as empirically, we, as human beings, are part of what “the world” and indeed “The Universe” is. See… the majority understanding of “The Universe” is that it’s a big space for things to be put in - to live in. And so planets such as “Earth” are a big rock for things to live on. This makes one understand “The Universe” or “The Earth” as separate from and external to the “Self”. To me, this is a significantly flawed understanding of the way “existence” is or works. “Things” don’t exist within “things”. They come from them. They’re born out of them. And they return to them. But this isn’t because they’re separate from them or are external to them. They’re just another expression or manifestation of them. The seed and tree. The child and mother. The egg and chicken. “Things” only appear to be within “things” because they are one in the same with them. They ARE them. Thus “Earth” and the inhabitants “on it” are part of it. Plants, animals, and yes, even humans, are “Earth”. This is also true at an even bigger scale. “Earth” is “The Universe”. It’s not “in it” or “on it”. It IS it! And you can apply this truth at the grandest scale to the tiniest scale possible. Exactly the same thing is true.

This is how I’ve always understood, interacted with and experienced the world around me and will continue to until my dying day and likely even after that when the “me” I know myself as now is gone and something or someone else takes over my experience. I have said many times now that I do not believe in identity. And given the way I understand the world, you can hopefully see why I don’t. It’s not important who “I” am. What’s important is experiencing “I Am”. So I don’t worry about identity. I’m not concerned with being a specific “who” or a “what”. I’m only concerned with what I can learn from experience. My name, my gender, my age and my background have little importance to me and therefore little influence on me. My consciousness however is fundamental. I try to honour that as much as I possibly can because self-awareness is key to self-learning and self-growth. And so the question changes from “Who am I?” to “How am I?” and “Why am I?”. This question when asked intentionally always gives an immediate answer.

I Am.

And I stay focused on that. Just that. All questions I have that I believe need answering come under the understanding that I can ask them in the first place because obviously if I couldn’t ask them, I wouldn’t need to know answers to them. I wouldn’t need to know anything at all if I did not have consciousness or if I was not conscious. You always ask the one who is asking when asking any question about self or other because you’re the one around to receive the answer. Like the tree falling in the forest. You know it makes a sound because you’re there to hear it make a sound. The question is already answered by you being there. The answer is obviously “No” if you or no consciousness whatsoever is around to hear it fall. Thus, your experience and interaction with the world is fundamental to it being “The world”… it would not be so without you. You are part of it as it is part of you.

The only way you know you exist and anything else whatsoever exists is because you can experience it. Does that answer the question? Maybe not. But it does make us reassess what we mean by “existence”. If we mean what is irrespective of our experience, then we’ll never get the answer. We won’t be around to receive it. And therefore it is absolutely pointless to have it. Consciousness is what makes matter “matter”. Matter is of no matter without awareness. Social construction of reality can be understood and examined as a concept of objectivism only. It can’t be experienced. It cannot be empirically confirmed. “Reality” itself would contradict its very definition if it could be. This is why what is actually real is subjective. Subjectivism is the true way of “reality”. It is imagined. It is fantasised. It is created by the mind! Through consciousness is the way anything ever exists. And if you don’t agree with that, - then you at least have to agree that it’s the only way it matters. For what is “existence” if it doesn’t have importance? Why does it matter that anything does or doesn’t exist? It only matters because WE make it matter. Because reality is relative to consciousness, it is real. It is experienced as wholly important to existence. Without consciousness, it’s as irrelevant as sludge. What we really mean when we use the term “exist” is how is what it is relative to and with consciousness?

[outercrasis]

But Birdie...can you make Monster Max orgasm by his horns alone? Totally asking for a friend

Maia, your friend asks some really good questions... (yes I'm still on a writing hiatus, Maia just has crimes to pay for okay?)

Pairing: Monster!Max x F!Reader

Word Count / Rating: 2.1k / Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Hornjob (lmao I'm thrilled to use this as a warning), oral mention, bondage (not reader), a little bit of sub!Max

Series Masterlist

Horns

The first time it happens it’s accidental. You’re in Max’s living room, relaxing on the couch with Max sitting on the floor between your legs. His head is tilted back into your lap, allowing you unrestricted access to provide him with a head massage. It’s mostly mindless the way your fingers card through his hair, occasionally grazing past his horns.

There’s a movie playing on Max’s obscenely large 4k TV – one that you turned on for a good thirst watch. Max rolled his eyes and agreed to watch it with you if he got something in return. He made a pretty convincing blowjob argument until you remembered that he never made good on his oral promise for attending an incredibly boring business dinner with him last week. Unfortunately the amount of wine you drank to get through it prevented things from happening later, but the vintage red was completely worth it.

The head massage is a happy compromise, a bargain that you’re still holding up despite Max giving up on pretending to pay attention a while ago. If he wants to miss your favorite actor looking hot while blowing some guy’s head off, that’s his loss.

Max’s hair is incredibly soft, the strands reminding you of flowing water with how they slip through your fingers. You’ve been trying to convince him to grow it out longer, give you something more to grip, but so far he hasn’t technically agreed to your request. Neither of you have acknowledged that he’s waiting a week or two longer between haircuts. As though you wouldn’t notice… ridiculous.

Somewhere around the climax of the movie you forget Max’s scalp entirely. Your fingers move to his horns, following the gentle curve of them to their ends, repeating the motion over and over again. You’re so engrossed in the movie that you don’t realize the way it’s making Max shudder beneath you.

The scene continues to build and despite having seen this movie many times over your anxiety increases along with it, fingers pressing just a bit harder and moving slightly faster than before. You’re only half aware of the way the slight ridges on his horns feel beneath your fingertips, the repetitive motion becoming a background sensory input.

The scene reaches its end with you mouthing the words along with the main character and Max trembling beneath you, a low guttural moan escaping him. Both of you still, Max refusing to look up at you and you looking down at him with wide eyes. He didn’t. There’s no way and yet that groan is entirely unmistakable.

“Did you just-?” you ask.

The fresh heat of embarrassment rolls off of Max in waves. An impossible dusting of pink makes itself present across his cheeks and you have your answer before he speaks. His voice is still thick with pleasure when he responds. “I um, yes?”

You’re pretty sure your brain misfires at his answer. You knew his horns were sensitive, knew that touching them could push him over the edge, but you never imagined you could bring him there by them alone.

Competing emotions of jealousy and pure arousal over his additional pleasure point war in your mind, arousal coming out the clear winner once you realize the potential this holds. If he thinks you gave them attention before, Max will now be wholly unprepared for your rapidly forming erotic plans. He's screwed.

You don’t bother to keep your excitement hidden. “Fuck, that’s hot. Do you think I can do it again?” you ask, already repositioning your fingers on his horns.

Max huffs out a laugh that sounds a lot like relief and gently reaches up to grab hold of your hands. “Let’s finish your movie first.”

Movie? There’s a movie playing? You look up to see your thirst watch still going. Right. Movie. Hot actor. Max came in his pants from you stroking his horns. Hot actor. Who gives a shit about a hot actor when Max just came in his pants from you stroking his horns.

“Do you really think I care about this movie right now?” It's streaming, it's not like you're going to miss anything by going to the bedroom now. The amount of times you’ve pulled up this movie on your phone just to skip to the good parts and turn it off again is probably more than concerning anyway.

Max tilts his head up towards you. “He hasn’t kissed her yet and that’s the whole reason you watch this trashy garbage.”

You have no idea how he knows about the kiss at the end of this movie. Okay, a lie, you do because you wouldn’t shut up about it until he agreed to watch it with you but you didn’t think he’d actually been listening at the time.

You weigh your options. On one hand, that kiss is the whole reason you turned this movie on to begin with. The chance to see it on a screen larger than one you could hold in your palm was too tempting. On the other hand, you have a very sexy monster with exciting new potential sitting between your legs.

You glance back at the screen. If you’re right – and you know you are, you have this stupid movie memorized to the minute – the kiss will happen in the next five minutes. It is a really hot kiss.

You can wait – but after...

+++

It’s not a mistake next time. Much to your chagrin Max wouldn't let you do it again immediately after your movie ended, but much to your pleasure he chose to make good on his overdue promise and eat you out instead. It’s the little things sometimes.

Two weeks go by before you get your chance. Max is lying spread eagle on the bed, his head buried in the fluffy white duvet. He looks up when you enter the room, face lighting up at your appearance in his bedroom. You haven’t seen each other in four days, work and other obligations keeping the both of you tied up and not in a sexy way.

“Lamb, you’re here,” Max smiles.

“Where else would I go?” you tease. “To that big werewolf down the hall?”

Max pouts despite knowing full well there’s no such creature on this block, much less on his floor. Such a drama queen. You jump next to him on the bed, swatting his wing out of your way. “Don’t even, you know you’re the only big bad monster I want.”

Max grabs hold of you, pulling you underneath him. He cages you in with his arms and wings, flashing his fangs at you. “Is that so?”

You’re so glad his powers don’t include reading minds. For one, you really don’t need him knowing how often you think about the large amount of money you could make selling pictures of your feet online, and for two, it means you can still surprise him.

You put on your soft voice, the one Max can’t seem to deny and never catches (or possibly cares) that you only ever use when you want something. You’re not above a little manipulation and it’s only fair given how often he uses his own monstrous wiles to get his way.

“Maxie, will you let me do something special tonight?” you ask.

His eyes sparkle with the promise of a good night ahead of him. If only he could know what you have planned.

+++

“Lamb, p-please,” Max begs, sounding well and truly strung out beneath you.

You have him tied up, or rather, chained down. Silver with copper plating along the links to keep his strength in check without actually hurting him, looped around his thick arms like the finest of jewelry. There’s enough slack to allow him to rest comfortably, but he is decidedly trapped with his arms spread apart.

“Color, baby?” you ask, pausing your slow, teasing motions. You’ve lost track of how long you’ve had him like this. It’s impressive how long he’s lasted despite his heightened sensitivity.

A deep, unrequired breath shudders through him. “G-green. Green.”

You smile, resettling yourself. You're straddling Max's chest, knees planted just below his armpits. From this position you're giving him a show, but you'd been unable to resist a little tease.

You came prepared tonight, wearing a lingerie set Max had yet to see. Sheer lace, thin enough that you might as well not be wearing anything at all, with sweet floral embellishments that provide a limited sense of modesty. It’s exactly the kind of thing to make Max go crazy for you and you only revealed it after he was chained up.

There was a moment where you thought he might actually break out of the chains. They groaned under the pressure he put on them, the links digging into his skin from how desperately he reached for you. They held strong in the end, but you almost wish they hadn’t. Watching him, strained rippling muscles, pulling the chains clean from their carefully mounted anchors, all in an effort to get to you? The mere idea was fucking Hot and immediately filed away as something to explore later.

You settle back down, rubbing the obsidian colored base of Max's horns with your thumbs. He moans at the pressure, eyes squeezing shut with pleasure. It’s a beautiful sight, making you want to seek some relief of your own, but this isn’t about you. All of this is for him.

“You look so good like this baby,” you say, running the pads of your fingers along the corrugated surface, enjoying the satisfying tingle that runs up your own appendages. “Tell me what you need.”

You can tell he’s close – it’s a little different with his physiology but the signs are still there. You can see it in his face, the way his body is tensing beneath you. If he needed to breathe, his chest would likely be heaving. You’re certain if you looked back you would see his cock throbbing, begging to be touched. Later.

“Tell me baby,” you repeat, slightly increasing the pressure you’re applying to his horns. Max pries his eyes open, the gold of his irises swirling faster than you’ve ever seen.

“More.”

Up until now you’ve remained somewhat careful, not wanting to accidentally hurt him with your touch. You’ve paid close attention to how many fingers are on him at once and how much pressure you’re applying to each. Max’s response has been driving your every move, taking in each moan and twitch of his muscles as your guide. You’ve avoided placing your whole hand on him at once, not wanting to overwhelm. It seems to be exactly what he’s asking for now.

You wrap your left hand completely around one horn while running the fingertips of your right hand back and forth over the other. It doesn’t take much. A few precise rubs, providing just a bit more added pressure than you have all night, and he tenses up beneath you, painting his stomach in his spend.

After a couple more soft strokes you let your grip slacken, sliding off of Max’s chest to release his arms from their restraints. The moment he’s freed Max pulls you into him, kissing and gently biting anywhere he can place his mouth. The bites don’t break your skin, instead causing goosebumps to erupt across your body in anticipation.

Now that Max is taken care of you can’t help but notice how wet your panties have gotten, soaked through with your arousal. And you didn’t even grind on him. Jeeze.

Max slows and rests his forehead against yours. You can feel the base of his horns against the thin skin, serving as an immediate reminder to what you just did. “You’re too good to me, little lamb,” Max says, kissing your nose.

You’re not sure what to say. Denying the claim is a possibility, but that’s something you’ve already done a thousand times over. It doesn’t seem to be sticking that as far as you’re concerned he’s only received a fraction of what he deserves. Instead you snuggle deeper into Max’s arms, content to share this moment and handle your own needs later. You don’t want to shift the focus of this from him.

The clasp on your bra comes loose and you think you know where things are headed. “You don’t have to Max, I’m okay,” you tell him.

Max’s hands move to your hips, sliding your panties down. “I know I don’t. But I want you to sit on my face and make me cum from your thighs wrapped around my horns while I taste you.”

Your eyes snap up to look at his. Jesus christ, you hadn’t even considered-

“What do you say, sweet cheeks?”

“Fuck yeah.”

I'm just using my everything taglist bc I'm lazy and I'll be giving my taglist an overhaul when I return from my hiatus anyway: @janebby @spideysimpossiblegirl @roxypeanut @paperbag33 @danidrabbles @honestly-shite @sharkbait77 @stevie75 @tintinn16 @doin-stuff @hdghty @salome-c @greeneyedblondie44 @snow30285 @fic-appointment @kirsteng42 @athalien @missminkylove @niki_xie @tothejedi @readsalot73 @castleamc @nakhudanyx @quietpainter @spanishmossmagnolia @kirsteng42 @dihra-vesa @sergeantbannerbarnes @ezrasbirdie @liviiii98 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @justanotherblonde23 @mummifymecaptain @gracie7209 @klara-luise18 @mswarriorbabe80 @just-here-for-the-moment @mimimi-stuff @dumb-npc @showbuckysomelove @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @captain_pikas_world @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @shadesofnerdlygrace @mylovelycomandante @starlightmornings @afootnoteinyourhappiness @girlwholoveswords @my-blink-romance @practicalghost @hotchlover

[oh-my-moomin]

NGE: You Deserve Love

This is an analysis based solely on the og NGE anime series and not the movie or rebirth series so I won’t be mentioning those.

NGE is a psychological horror/apocalypse story dressed up as a mecha. This farce is only totally dropped in the last 2, even 3 episodes. This can make the ending jarring and seem in cohesive, but ultimately my understanding is that none of the ‘plot’ really matters. Seele doesn’t matter, where the angels come from doesn’t really matter, and the final battle doesn’t matter. This is a story exploring loss, the need for connection, loneliness, and humanity. We see this through not only the interactions of the human characters but also through the angels.

THE HUMANS

The Children

A defining trait of all the characters is that they are lonely. The isolation from human connection is brought on both by the high stress apocalypse they all live in, as well as the personal demons they face. The characters all attempt to create bonds with other people, but are held back by their insecurities, fear of vulnerability, and past traumas.

Let’s start with Shinji, as the main character. Having lost his mother at a young age, and being abandoned by this father, he was never able to feel secure. Therefore he takes on a people pleaser attitude, constantly apologizing. His want for validation (particularly from adults in his life) causes him to continue to take action that he doesn't want to, including piloting the EVA. His self hate and insecurity makes it hard for him to make and trust his own choices. So he relies on others to guide him. When this fails, when he doesn't get the love and validation he craves he tries to quite entirely. But this often leads to the people he cares about being hurt. He's trapped between a rock and hard place.

Asuka was also abandoned, however rather than craving support like Shinji, she chooses to live for herself. She craves independence. She needs to know that she is no longer a child that can be hurt and vulnerable. This is largely shown through both her overt sexuality, and her piloting the EVA. She must be in control of the EVA, she must have power, she must be able to prove herself as the best, the strongest. Because inside she still feels like that hurt desperate child, and that is what she hates most about herself. Unlike Shinji, Asuka is brash and rude, and she expects others to give her the same. She barks and expects you to bark back, but can’t always handle it. 

Both of these characters are constantly looking for connection, with both their peers and adults. While Asuka often pushes herself on to people, out of a need to be seen. Shinji cannot take active moves to make meaningful connections, and will shy away from people trying to connect. Asuka hates herself and needs to prove that others love her. Shinji hates himself and cannot imagine that people love him. 

The Adults

One of the running themes in the show is motherhood. Typically it is the mother that is expected to love and care for the child, to raise them, show unconditional love, give unwavering support. None of the characters have had this, Shinji and Asuka search for validation that they lost in adults in different ways. Unfortunately for them, none of the adults present are suitable to be parents. 

The show makes a point to show that the adult characters are all more complex than the children. They have lived longer and therefore had more time to make mistakes, to get stuck in toxic ideals, to ‘be problematic’. They are not concretely good or bad people (mostly), but rather the result of people who grew up in a post apocalyptic world, trying desperately to stop the salvage it, while also trying to make their own connections. Like the child characters, their past traumas make it harder for them to be more open, vulnerable, and weak, to form that human connection. 

I am going to focus on Misato and Ritsuko, since they act as foils when it comes to human connection.

Misato being left as a lone survivor to a terrible accident has left her scared both physically and mentally. Before this she had issues with her parents, as her father seemed to abandon his family in favour of work, leaving her mother devastated. Misato doesn't want to become like her mother, abandoned by a loved one, and she also doesn't want to be her father, a slave to work. To counter this she looks for easy connections, but she never wants to get too close.

When her relationship with Kaji was beginning to feel too real, she began to find flaws. His resemblance to her father was terrifying, so she broke it off. Similarly, when in scenes with Shinji, talking about his insecurities or his want to give up, she is hidden by shadow. She cannot be seen as weak, she cannot offer comfort, she cannot be a mother figure to Shinji. Other ways her searching for easy connection is her drinking beer, or eating take out. She searches for the most basic ways to fulfill her needs, so that she can focus on her main goal of defeating the angels. 

Ritsuko is also desperate to find human connection without vulnerability. By fully closing off the whole world she can have no weakness, something which she resents in Misato. She views herself as above the need for connection in that way, and would rather follow in her mothers foot footsteps as a scientist and a woman. 

She loved and admired her mother, and hated her. She wants to follow in her footsteps but also would hate to fail in the same ways. She saw how her mother failed to actually mother her, and chose to completely reject that part of herself. Instead she cares for cats, and uses those as a surrogate to having a child. She continues her mothers work as a scientist, constantly striving to improve. And when it comes to the ‘woman’ that her mother was, she knew a stubborn woman who focused solely on one man. So Ritsuko also focused on him, to the point of giving up her cat to her grandmother. Both women tried to create an easy connection with him, both felt that they were his equal, and that they found the one connection that mattered. When it was proven to them that they were a second (third) woman this caused them both to break down. For Ritsuko this meant that even though she closed off the whole world, except for one man, she was still too vulnerable. And her only response was to completely shut down. Because she had no one else.

All of the characters are constantly searching for this connection, trying to show affection without getting hurt. Trying to make sense of the end of the world while also making sense of interpersonal relationships. Their own inner demons getting in the way of honest connection. 

Rei

As a clone Rei is a particular case. She is aware that she is not a ‘person’, she isnt meant for human connection. Her isolation is so ingrained into her, planned before she is even ‘born’ so she feels no need to care for anyone except Ikari. She latches onto him, would do anything for him, and has no value in her life because she is aware that she is not real. 

However, she still has a human source, Shinjis mother. A human person, who also needed human connection. Rei, when given the chance, does care for people. Shinji is the first person to see her as a peer, and to treat her with kindness. With this start of forming connections, she begins to feel more human, to develop a further need to connect. Even if it's hard to fully separate from the man who created her.

THE ANGELS

The angels act as a foil to the human need for connection. While all of the human characters are lonely and searching for connection with each other, the angels are also lonely and trying to learn what that even means. 

There is no scene where the angels are working together, they are solitary, all having the same goal of reaching Adam, but incapable of planning together to achieve it. They instead try to create connection to humans, trying to bond and understand them, without knowing that their methods are harmful. 

I believe this can be first seen with the 12th angel. When Shinji is absorbed into the EVA, it is safe to say that the angel was able to understand the merging of human and EVA. This connection allowed Shinji to control the EVA to break free of the angel's shadow. The following month where Shinji is trapped within his EVA, is our first insight into what the human instrumentality project will be like, as well as the goals of the angels. 

Since angels cannot connect to each other, the 15th angel attempts to create connection by forcing itself into Asukas mind. It wants to understand her, her emotions, her thoughts, her connections, her love. For her this is a painful experience, akin to rape. She feels dirtied after it. But the attack is a beam of light, with holy music playing, what should be a calming experience. I believe it is fair to say that the angel cannot understand that it is putting her through pain, as it cannot understand any human experiences. Angels are incapable of understanding their own feelings/experiences/wants, and try to use humans as a study from which they can learn. 

The following angel confronts Rei about her loneliness. Instead of breaking into her mind through light, it directly entered her body. While talking with her, it questioned what loneliness was, trying to understand its own pain and isolation through understanding hers. Its solution is to merge with Rei, as it believes this would solve both problems. 

However, when she refuses, the angel then tries to find another source of connection. Rei cares about Shinji, as both a clone of his mother, and a friend as her own person. The angel can see that this connection is something that she finds precious and tries to take it for itself, as it cannot understand why Shinji wouldn’t feel the same. It cannot understand how complex human connections are, that it cannot simply take Reis form. However, it has learned what pain is, and how to communicate its own pain. As seen when Shinji attacks it. Whether this pain is physical or emotional doesn't matter, because it is the first pain that the angel could express.

The angels discovering what loneliness is acts as a way for the human pilots to begin to explore their own isolation in more depth. For better or worse.

THE FINAL MESSENGER

Our introduction to the final angel is him singing. He takes a human form, can fully communicate to other humans, and doesn’t immediately attack them. This is such a contrast to all other angels that it isn't immediately clear that he even is an angel. Kaworu's first words are (as per the netflix english subtitles)

“Arent songs great? Songs enrich the heart. They're the crowning achievement of Lilin culture” 

He loves humans, human culture, human lives, and the human world. He is the first angel who is able to show this. His ability to understand humans allows him to form human connections, and he does so with Shinji. 

Kaworu loved Shinji. He would seek out Shinji, take time to bond and communicate with him, and help Shinji open up. He wanted to be close with Shinji, and knew how to be gentle in ways that no other human or angel could. He was patient, because he had time. And Shinji was able to open up to him more than with any other character. Shinji  was able to take the initiative to ask to stay with him, to try and form that connection.

All the human characters are struggling with their own demons, with an apocalyptic world. The whole earth is at war and Shinji is in the front lines, surrounded by adults who may want to help him but ultimately can't. Saving everyone is a higher priority to saving one kid, especially when that kid is your strongest soldier. Throughout the series Shinji is given conditional love. It is only when he pilots the EVA, defeats the angels and saves the day that people give him validation. Then comes this boy, who is gentle and kind, who listens. And it's easy, its comfort, its understanding and unconditional love, and its exactly what Shinji has needed for the whole series. 

But as a messenger he could never stay, he's temporary and by the end of the episode he understands this. He still is driven to ‘Adam’, he has a mission, but instead he is confronted with Lilith. Kaworu understands that humans and angels cannot live together in harmony, only one can survive. Both Adam and Litlith were made in god's image, but only Adam could stay in the garden of Eden. Death and Life hold equal value to Kaworu, so he doesn't mind the sacrifice, he would rather die to protect humans, to protect Shinji. He can  also understand that this is difficult, this is murder, this is killing a friend. So he says “thank you” and he waits.

In other episodes when in a battle, Shinji is constantly being yelled at, told what to do, under constant pressure. But here there is just the same patient understanding that Kaworu has always shown him. No rush for him to take action, just time to process and grieve. Because Kaworu knows Shinji will make the hard choice and he waits, and he smiles, and he continues to love Shinji. 

The final angel came down as a messenger and said

“You are important. 

I want to talk to you, to know you. 

You are in pain, you are fragile and should be protected. 

You are worthy of my affection. 

I like you. I love you. I was born just so that I could meet you. 

Our kind cannot survive together, one of us must die. And you deserve to live. 

I will take this burden of death because you deserve a future. 

I am glad I could meet you, thank you. 

I know this is hard, and I know you need time. I will wait.

Thank you.”

That was the last message to humanity.

And because Shinji is human he says back

“We are the same. I love you too. If only one of us could have lived it should have been you. You are better than me. You should have survived.”