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florida3exclamationpoints · 10 months ago

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Since Taylor seems to be confused about what Mary's Song (Oh My My My) is, I put together a comprehensive list of potential mashups or pairings she could use during surprise song o'clock. Hope this helps 🫶

She said, (dear reader) I was 7 and you were 9. I hit my peak at 7. The tricky thing is yesterday we were just children. I looked at you like the stars that shine in the sky. Love you to the moon and to Saturn. The stars in your eyes shined brighter in Tupelo. I've never seen nobody shine the way you do. He's passing by, rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky. The pretty lights. One night a few moons ago, I saw specks of what could have been lights but it might just have been you. I know looks can be deceiving, but I know I saw a light in you. And our daddies used to joke about the two of us growing up and falling in love. Up on the roof with a schoolgirl crush. And our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes. When you're on the phone and you talk real slow 'cause it's late and your mama don't know. And said "oh my, my, my." (My, my, my, my.)

Take me back to the house in the backyard tree. Please picture me in the trees. In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords. Friday night beneath the stars in a field behind your yard. Said you'd beat me up, you were bigger than me, you never did. Hey Dorothea do you ever stop and think about me? Down in the park, honey, making a lark of the misery. You would break your back to make me break a smile. We were like the mall before the internet, it was the one place to be, the mischief, the gift wrapped suburban dreams. Take me back when our world was one block wide. We had this big, wide city all to ourselves. When I'm feeling alone, you remind me of home. I didn't choose this town; there's just one who could make me stay all my days. I dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried. Daring you to leave me just so I can try and scare you. I've been loving you for quite some time; I just like hanging out with you all the time. Just two kids, you and I. You throw your head back laughing like a little kid. Like a child when our eyes meet. At 14 there's just so much you can't do. When you're 15 and somebody tells you they love you, you're gonna believe them.

(Next chapter) I was 16 when suddenly I wasn't that little girl you used to see. 16 and wild. A teenage couple in the driveway, holding hands on the way to a dance. I'm crazier for you than I was at 16. Teal was the color of your shirt when you were 16 at the yogurt shop you used to work at to make a little money. The kind of radiance you only have at 17. But your eyes still shined like pretty lights. Your eyes look like coming home. Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night. And our daddies used to joke about the two of us. Any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos will be ignored, 'cause my heart is yours. They never believed we'd really fall in love. Seems like there's always someone who disapproves. Sun sinks down, no curfew, twenty questions, we tell the truth. You can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out, you are in love, true love. Not trying to fall in love, but we did like children running. And our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes. And your mama's waiting up, and you're thinking he's the one. And said "oh my, my, my." "Oh my, love is a lie," shit my friends say to get me by.

Take me back to the creek beds we turned up, 2am riding in your truck. 2am, in your car. Just a boy in a Chevy truck that had a tendency of getting stuck on back roads at night. And all I need is you next to me. Everything I need is right here by my side. I'll be summer sun for you forever. Take me back to the time we had our very first fight, the slamming of doors instead of kissing goodnight, you stayed outside till the morning light. I remember that fight, 2:30am as everything was slipping right out of our hands, I ran out crying and you followed me out into the street; you took me by surprise, you said "I'll never leave you alone." This love is worth the fight. You fight, then you talk. When we had that fight out in the rain, you ran after me and called my name, I never wanna see you walk away. Oh my, my, my. My heart, my hips, my body, my love.

A few years had gone and come around. Our coming of age has come and gone. We were sitting at our favorite spot in town. I love my hometown. This place is the same as it ever was. And you looked at me, got down on one knee. And all at once, you're all I want, I'll never let you go. I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings. I wanna teach you how forever feels.

Take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle. Church bells ring, carry me home, rice on the ground, looks like snow. I want you for worse or for better. There you'll stand, next to me, all at once, the rest is history. Our whole town came and our mamas cried. I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe. I had the fantasy that maybe our mismatched star signs would surprise the whole school when I ended up back at our class reunion walking in with you. You said "I do" and I did too. I vowed I will always be yours. I'm so in love that I might stop breathing. You and me forevermore. Take me home where we met so many years before. I find myself running home to your sweet nothings. Barefoot in the kitchen, sacred new beginnings that became my religion. Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die. It's been 2190 days of our love blackout. Floors of a cabin creaking under my step. Just being in your arms takes me back to that little farm. He feels like home. I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet, 'cause I haven't moved in years. I heard your key turn in the door down the hallway. We'll rock our babies on that very front porch. Your little hand's wrapped around my finger and it's so quiet in the world tonight, your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreaming so I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light. Give you my wild, give you a child. We could get married, have ten kids and teach them how to dream. After all this time, you and I. Time, mystical time. I've been sleeping so long in a 20 year dark night, now I see daylight.

I'll be 87, you'll be 89. Long story short, I survived. Time breaks down your mind and body, don't you let it touch your soul; I'm gonna love you when our hair is turning gray. All my days, I'll know your face. I'll still look at you like the stars that shine in the sky. When Emma falls in love, it's all on her face, hangs in the air like stars from outer space. Oh my, my, my, my.

#i did it i remade it 😭#actually. its longer this time skdhskfbjs #now after that entird debacle. you better appreciate this 🤺#mary's song #taylor swift #taylor swift debut #marys song #surprise songs #the eras tour

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heliads · 8 months ago

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okay, hopefully you have room for more than one request from me !! this time, could i pretty please request billy rocks with a gender-neutral reader, since you know i have to send in my obligatory magnificent seven request ? the reader is a member of the seven and their resident medic, in charge of patching up everyone else’s injuries after a fight. they’ve had a kind of flirting banter thing going on with billy for a while, but neither of them are planning on really doing anything about it anytime soon, until the reader collapses after a battle because they ignored their own injuries in favor of helping the others and billy completely freaks out. when the reader finally wakes up, the others tell them that billy hasn’t left their side the entire time they were out, and after billy soundly scolds them for ignoring their own health, they finally confess ?

again, obviously you don’t have to right this if you’d rather not, but if you do, thank you so much in advance, and i hope you’re doing well !! <3

'living, surviving' - billy rocks

masterlist

He will die tomorrow morning, but now, while the town of Rose Creek is still quiet and dark, Billy Rocks is alive. Alive and alone. No one sees him, no one knows him. He remains invisible, curtained by deep shadow. He looks around him at the wavering lights of candles in windows, and wonders, depressingly, when they’ll get blown out by gunshots. When every glass pane shatters, when every roof collapses, when each body falls and friend goes missing, Billy will remember this night, back when nothing had gone wrong yet.

The wind whistles through the slots in the door out back, bringing with it the vague lilts of laughter and conversation from a few doors down. There are people here who still harbor hopes of walking out of tomorrow morning’s fight alive, and they’ve gathered around fires or drinks to convince themselves that it’ll happen. Not Billy, though. Billy, as per usual, is alone.

He likes being alone, though. It lets him see what others don’t. Billy remembers being a child once, a long time ago in a place that was not this one. A schoolmate of his, a friend, maybe, had shown him a print of an ancient warship in the book with a proud figurehead at the front cut out to look like the head of a god. It was meant to guard the ship, apparently, and keep it from harm.

It had always struck Billy as a rather lonesome thing. One god, brought down to land in the form of a wooden carving, always staring ahead sightlessly and separated from the crew. Forever bond to solitude. Watching out for the men aboard that would never look it in the eyes.

Now, though, Billy thinks that he quite understands it. He is alone now, hidden comfortably in the shadows such that his eyes have adjusted to the darkness. Tucked away in a dark corner, he can see the various inhabitants of Rose Creek nervously passing the time before they’ll likely lose their lives. Lost in drink or card games, doing their best to do too much so their minds can’t sit and think about how little time they’ve got left, nobody has the patience or nerve to check for things hiding in the shadows. They certainly don’t look hard enough to find him.

They wouldn’t if they tried. Billy has had a lot of time to perfect the art of remaining out of sight. He shows off when he wants to, twirling a silver knife just right so the lithe blade reflects the sun like an arc of pure light, but he prefers being quiet. He’ll let Goodnight do the talking, or Billy’s knives. When he’s quiet, he can watch. When he’s quiet, he can learn the secrets about people that they aren’t aware they’re telling. He can guide his crew from the shadows. He can lead them from his place alone above the stormy water.

Usually, no one can find Billy unless he wants them to. The exception, of course, is Goodnight, because as business partners, it became somewhat of a necessity to find Billy when need be, so he’s let that slide. Tonight, though, with Goodnight gone and everyone else highly strung due to the battle looming ahead, Billy doesn’t think he’ll be found.

That makes it even more surprising when he is. Billy sees this new arrival coming, of course, but he assumes they’ll veer off towards the bar, or that they’ll go laugh with the drinkers or the dancers like everyone else sees fit on this restless night. Instead, their path stays true, and they not only find Billy at once but pull up a chair next to him. Like the only thing they want to do on what may be their last night alive is to spend time with him. Like Billy is the only person worth seeing at all.

Ordinarily, Billy Rocks has no problem holding his tongue. He’ll whisper a few biting jokes here or there, typically never above the volume of a sigh, but he’s never had a problem with keeping his peace. Tonight seems to be a night of surprises, though, because Y/N L/N, their resident medic, has hardly sat down before Billy’s asking them cautiously, “You don’t want to be with the others, then?”

Y/N glances towards him, surprised, as if they hadn’t even realized this would be an option. “Now, why would I do that when I’ve got such pleasant company here with me?”

Billy chuckles in spite of himself. “It’s not the most entertaining of company.”

“Mmm,” they hum, “but I like it better that way, I think. Tonight’s not a night for shouting. Seems wrong that way.”

Billy lets out a slow breath. He can feel his fingers curling at his sides, readying themselves for triggers or blades come the next morning. “No, it doesn’t,” he agrees.

Quiet falls. Billy waits for them to leave, but they don’t. They stay, and they smile at him, warm in the lamplight from across the room, and say, “You don’t mind me being here, do you?”

“Of course not,” Billy replies hastily. “Besides, what sort of man would I be to kick out our medic the night before a fight? I can’t risk upsetting you now, sweetheart. You might do something wild, like sew me up with pink thread.”

Y/N laughs. Billy finds himself glad for the isolation again– out there in the main room of the bar, the sound of Y/N’s laughter might have blended in with the stomping of heels, the creaking of wood, but out here, with nothing else to disguise it but his own bated breath, Billy delights in it entirely. The sound curls around him like music, and his fingers twitch again, this time not to reach for a weapon but to hold their laughter. To hold them, maybe. It’s a good thing he knows better. It’s a good thing he doesn’t want that more than anything, because if he did, he might do something foolish like try.

“I’d never mess with you,” they grin. “Promise. It would ruin my reputation.”

“Wouldn’t just ruin your reputation, it would ruin my skin,” Billy grumbles, but he’s smiling again.

Y/N knows it too. They always seem to smile all the brighter when he’s smiling too, like it’s a bet they’ve won. “I wouldn’t dare,” they promise. “Besides, I can’t go threatening one of our best shooters the night before I fight, can I? What sort of friend would I be? I need you on my side to keep me safe.”

Billy arches a brow. “I’ve seen you with a gun, darling. I’m pretty sure you can keep yourself safe all on your own.”

Y/N’s lips curl suggestively. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Something hot rushes through the back of his neck. “I leave it to you to find the fun in a gunfight,” Billy says hoarsely. Changing the subject is the safest thing to do right now. It’s safer than leaning closer, than returning Y/N’s fire with fire. Safer than touching them, which is what he wants to do right now most of all.

This is not the night for that, Billy reminds himself. They’re going to die tomorrow and he won’t cloud either of their judgment. So, even though he wants nothing more than to keep testing this theory and see where they break, he forces himself to pull back and resume a normal conversation. He encourages Y/N to get some rest before everything goes to hell tomorrow, and hopefully, they will. Y/N’ll have a lot of hard work headed their way by dawn. He doesn’t want them any more stressed than they need to be.

The sun rises, bringing trouble with it. Bogue brings a lot of men, too many by Billy’s estimate. He grits his teeth as he watches them ride in, and prepares himself for a long, bloody morning. They’ve set up a small medical center in one of the better protected buildings where Y/N can practice their craft. If Billy can only make sure none of Bogue’s thugs make it to them, he’ll die a happy man.

Y/N, however, doesn’t seem to like the idea of sitting pretty while their friends die. Ordinarily, Billy wouldn’t blame them for that, but he can’t deny that his heart starts racing whenever they sprint out into the streets to tend to the wounds of their fallen friends. Once Goodnight turns up, the other man wastes no time in teasing Billy about his obvious partiality to the brazen medic, but Billy’s only half listening, anyway. He can’t both partake in snide comments and keep Y/N alive, and he’s really only interested in one of those things.

The battle rages on, then, startlingly enough, quiets. Bodies line the streets, both the dead and the injured. Y/N has been moving non stop almost the entire time; how they haven’t passed out from exhaustion, Billy has no clue. He sees them swaying slightly on their feet as they move from patient to patient, and mentally reminds himself to make sure they’re doing alright. He just needs a little more time to clear the enemy from the town, then he’ll be free to check on them.

Once the final thug has been killed or chased off, Billy starts scanning the area for Y/N. A couple friends mention that they saw the medic recently, but none of them can point him in the right direction. He checks the medical center, but it’s only inhabited by the groaning injured, not sunny would-be doctors with a spark in their eye and a quick joke on their tongue.

Heading outside again, Billy completes a slow loop around the building, but he can’t find them anywhere. Panic starting to grow in his chest, he pulls aside Sam when the other man walks by.

“You haven’t seen Y/N around, have you?” Billy asks hastily.

Sam gives him a slow, worried look. “Now that you mention it, I’m not sure that I have. They were keeping plenty busy while the fighting was hot, but it’s been a while since they crossed my path.”

Billy nods, not even sparing the time for a thank you before continuing on his careening search through the city. As he paces down the streets, some of his friends make to approach him, but he brushes them all off. Nothing matters except finding Y/N. Nothing matters except finding Y/N.

And then, almost by accident, he does. It isn’t how he’d expected. Somehow, some naive part of him was hoping he’d find them in the tavern, already with a drink in hand, or surrounded by some awestruck sharpshooters, dazzling them with their wit. Anything that would guarantee their safety. Anything that would keep them out of harm.

In reality, when he finds Y/N, it’s no different than finding any of the other fallen bodies. They’re slumped against the wall of a building, a roll of bandages fallen loosely from their hand. There’s a man unconscious next to them, a friend of theirs who’d evidently suffered from a gash across the arm. Billy spots Y/N’s expert handiwork in the form of a clean wrap across the injury, but the one who seems to need medical care now is Y/N themself.

Hurriedly, he crouches by them, lifting a hand to check for a pulse. “Y/N?” He asks, his voice wavering.

Y/N stirs slightly, their eyes half-lidded. “Billy? That you?”

“It’s me,” he confirms. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

They move slightly, grimacing in pain, and that’s when Billy notices the dark splash of red seeping out of their waistcoat. “Sweetheart,” he repeats unsteadily, “Don’t tell me you got shot, now. You can’t just bleed out like that without getting yourself some help.”

“I had to help him,” Y/N whispers. “That’s what mattered.”

“No, you’re what matters,” Billy hisses. “Fuck the rest. You were supposed to put your health above theirs.”

Y/N manages a slight slip of a grin, not even a half-smile, and the obvious pain it causes them makes Billy’s heart clench in his chest. “Now, what kind of medic would I be if I did that?”

“A safe one,” he sighs. “Now, come on. I’m going to pick you up and get you some help, alright? Don’t you dare close your eyes. I need you to stay with me.”

“I like staying with you,” Y/N mumbles as Billy picks them up.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he tells them.

Y/N feels deathly still in his arms, and Billy doesn’t want to give that a single moment of his attention. All that matters is sprinting back to the medical center; calling for someone, anyone to help him; carefully setting Y/N down on a clear bit of space. He has to be moved away from the table so the doctor can treat them, so intent is Billy on staying within reach, and the second they tell him that Y/N’s going to be okay, he’s right back by their side.

Y/N will wake up soon, they tell him. Just a bit of exhaustion and blood loss. Y/N’s made of tough stuff, they’ll be alright. When they open their eyes again, Billy will be right by their side. This time, he has something he’d like to tell them, and this time, there isn’t anything holding them back from the love they were always meant to share.

requested by @faerieroyal, i hope you enjoy!

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#billy rocks #billy rocks imagines #billy rocks x reader #billy rocks oneshot #magnificent seven #magnificent seven imagines #magnificent seven x reader #magnificent seven oneshot #magnificent seven fanfic #billy rocks fanfic #the magnificent seven #the magnificent seven imagines #the magnificent seven x reader #the magnificent seven oneshot #the magnificent seven fanfic #the magnificent seven (2016)

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starlightwielded · 4 months ago

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♢ . SHAKESPEARE AESTHETIC. mordred edition.

romeo & juliet. suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden.a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night. wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth. the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

much ado about nothing. the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

king lear. cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream. the smell of wet soil and dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

tagged by: @ashmored ! tagging: @witchdoctrines / @halfcaped / @noonesoldier, @witchhaunts / @fa1rytells , @playbarbies . @forwardmoved / @dorkustm , @nofooltadius , @grizzwalds , @chmarva , @grizzwalds & YOU! steal it! tag me!

#i am simply compromised in this house thank you #and thank you for the TAG sof!#~*tagged.*~#~*headcanons.*~

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matrixxsystem · 7 months ago

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Terrapin Soup Part 7

A few days had gone by as usual since Usagi's visit with Leos family, most of the questions about them had subsided. On occasion something would come up like Mikey asking for his favorite color, or April asking what Leo likes most about him and teasing him about kiss. Or even the few times Splinter would ask if he'd seen the Lou Jitsu movies yet and which ones he think Leo should show him first.

All of which was well meaning but it did get a little annoying after the tenth; "Are you sure he hasn't even seen Lou Jitsu in the Battle Nexus?"

Leo sat in his bedroom scrolling on his phone when he found some Hidden City news sites finally, after hiding himself in his roof where he was finally able to get a bit of peace from his loving family. He'd been careful not to trip anything on Donnie's stupid parental controls he had on everyone phone to avoid them getting virus's or hacked by anyone. But this forum was pretty up to date and seemed to be fine, there were even a few links to some yokai app site where you could get channels to tune into.. Neat. Maybe he'd see something about Usagi and his teacher cleaning up the city.. If he asked Draxum would he know anything about that? Would he know what they were actually doing? What if it was human's.. Draxum didn't hate them as much now but would he go that far as to eat them if he had the option? Maybe he would be the person to talk to about his feelings.. Draxum's the one who made them after all, he'd probably have some kind of fix for whatever was wrong with him.. But... If he wasn't how he is would Usagi still like him? Don't be stupid of course he would! Even if they had different diets he still knew about Usagi's habits and didn't care. Maybe that would be something to ask next time he stayed the night and took Usagi stargazing again..

"Hey Leo-"

Instinctively Leo shoved his phone under his pillow and sat at attention hearing a voice come into his room. Not that he had anything to hide but his thoughts had been trailing off and his phone felt like proof of him thinking unsavory things. Oh, but it was just Raph. He stood up pretending like he was working out as the massive figure came into view, "Oh hey man what's up?"

"..I'm.. I'm gonna ignore whatever it is you're trying to hide"

"Hide? Me?? Never, I mean- I.. I'm offended you'd even think I'd- ... Yeah okay whatever, what did you want?"

"Raph wanted to ask you something, relationship related."

"Aww you having girl troubles big bro~ Came to the expert did you?"

"Uh- No."

"Boy troubles then? Which I mean I know more about I think April would know more about girl stuff-"

"I mean about your relationship."

"...Uhhhmm mine? Okay? Like.. Like what? Cause I mean you guys have been kinda all over us lately and not that I don't love the attention don't get me wrong but like- It's a bit much even for you guys" Raph looked like he was trying to find the right words, clearly he wasn't going anywhere till he got it out of his system, and Leo wasn't gonna kick him out of his room if it was so important he came all the way here to ask his question in privacy. He patted the spot beside him inviting Raph to sit down as he did. "Make it quick, I was thinking about.. Going out, later." Raph nodded and sat on the edge of the bed, crushing the mattress and causing the bed to creek and shift making Leo slide towards him, he never minded though, not like Raph could help it. "Well.. I... Its been on my mind a lot and I feel bad so I thought maybe I should tell you."

"This.. Raph don't mess with me, what's up?"

"I have a bad feeling about Usagi. I-I can't really explain why, and I know it's stupid and you can be mad but I just.. I just get this weird vibe from him and-"

"Imma stop you right there."

"But-"

"Raph seriously. I'm not mad. I get it, like full and total honesty I really understand what you mean." He craned his head to give him a sympathetic smile and pat his shell, "I won't tell you that you're crazy or whatever, but I need you to take that feeling.."

"Yeah..?"

"And kill it."

"..What-"

"Take whatever you have against him and kill it, for me okay? You can feel however you want on your own time, and weather you like him or not isn't going to change anything. I know he's.. Done things. And y'know what, who hasn't. Y'know how many times Donnie's experimented on us or how many times we've beat those foot faces within an inch of their life? Or like Hueso was a literal pirate, a wanted man and we love that guy! I mean dad was in a murder area for who knows how long and we still near worship Lou Jitsu! Usagi's told me a bunch of the dirty laundry he has and if you get that feeling about him then you should be getting that same weird feeling about me. I don't blame you for getting weird vibes, but I'm gonna tell you right now that he's not a threat."

"Leo just.. All I'm saying is be careful okay? He seems awesome, and I'm glad he makes you so happy, really I am. I just.. It feels like he's hiding something bad, not everyone is who they say they are.." Leo sighed a little laying back on the bed with his legs hanging off, "Yeah well.. No one is who they say they are.."

"But I'm who I say I am?"

"Oh please, who are you right now then?"

"Well.. Raph?"

"Fake. Raph's voice is higher."

"Excuse me??"

"Fake! Fake fake fake!" Leo rolled from side to side almost like a child throwing a fit, but this was clearly in a more dramatic and mocking way, no real anger or upset behind it. "It's just Raph's body, you're.." He tilted his head a little to read the expression on his face, "You're Brick." He said little his head fall back to the bed. His tone more confident after seeing the face. "I am not! The body was named Raph so I'm Raph by default-"

"Faaaake"

"Why are you being so difficult!?"

"Well I named you Brick actually so I dunno if you've ever heard me call you that, from that time you ran into the wall face first to prove a point."

"And I was right!"

"But Raph doesn't remember that."

"No I remember-"

"Cause you're Brick."

"Well how do I not be Brick so you'll take this seriously! I'm trying to talk to you-"

"I unno- But I am taking this seriously though! And I proved my point! You don't even know who you are half the time and that's on accident! No one is who they act like, we all change for other people and act different when we're around others. Who you are when you're alone.. No one shows that to everyone right at the start."

"Well.. Well who are you then huh??"

"I'm... I.. I don't know yet. Even if I did I don't think I'd be able to tell anyone really, you guys might be my brothers but I don't think even you would understand. I will one day I think, but who knows."

"Oh.. Hm... So- Wait a second- Hold on, back to me being Brick-"

-_-_-_-

It took a while for Leo to talk his way out of his conversation with his brother in red, not fully understanding what he was getting himself into till there were a million questions he found himself unable to answer. Once he managed to slip away he headed into the labyrinth of sewer tunnels just outside of Donnie's security, there he was able to look though his phone without any fear of cameras or audio playing where his genius brother could find it. He turned on the app for one of the few local news stations in the Hidden city, starting to scroll though different stories that'd been put out this past week. Most of it was fairly normal stuff, well.. Normal for the city's standards at least, things like;

'Flying Pet Saves Child Stuck In A Tree'

'Couple Gives Birth To Yokai With Five Eyes, Couldn't Be Happier'

'New Dog Park Being Built, Dogs Are Not Allowed In The Dog Park. Yokai Are Not Allowed In The Dog Park'

'New Tradition Sweeping City Of Placing Feathers On Doorsteps Preventing People From Leaving Via Front Door, Hilarious Pictures Of People Exiting Though Windows Here'

'Battle Nexus Obituaries, Updated Daily!'

That last once made Leo shudder as he quickly scrolled passed it and finally found something that caught his eye. 'Yokai Gang Disappeared Mysteriously. West End No Longer Under Their Control And Want To Thank The Masked Heroes Responsible' Leo smiled a little having a feeling he knew who the article would be mentioning. But.. Despite the threat of the gang being gone they didn't seem to be painting the aforementioned heroes in a positive light like the title made it seem.. "-may suggest that a rival gang or someone with intentions to oversee control of the previous gangs faction only dethroned the Cobalt Hues gang to take control into their own hands. Residents who decided to stay were advised to remain on high alert for any new activity and report any suspicious sightings to the HCPD immediately."

Well that didn't sound great.. But it made sense to still be on alert in case something went wrong, better to be prepared then just let your guard down to have it happen again. But at least he was able to see some of what Usagi was up to now! He took a screenshot of the headline to ask him about it later and headed back towards the lair, right as he got better reception his phone lit up with a notification. Oh? Had his phone not be getting other messages while he wasn't in rage of the wifi? There was a few from Usagi now that they'd exchanged numbers, and some from his brothers too, shit.. It must be important if everyone was trying to find him..

Sagi<3: Hey are you free tonight?

Sagi<3: Leo?

Sagi<3: I really need your help with something if you can.

Sagi<3: Hey you know a bunch about medical stuff right? You told me you do most of the first aid for your brothers still I think.

Sagi<3: Call me when you see this okay?

Raps: Leo ur bfs texting me, where'd you go? Raps: I swear if ur goofin off and makin him worry were gonna fight

Angelo: Leeeeooooooooooooooo Angelo: Dude Raph said you vanished, he's gonna have the lair on lockdown if you don't answer soon Angelo: I have plans to tag a new wall tomorrow so if he grounds us I'm using ur swords to get there >:P

D0NN13: I'm changing your name to Dum-Dum. Oh and get another hose key if ur top-side I need another one for.. Things.

Leo sighed as he pulled a curtain back walking into the the blinding lights of the atrium unlike the dark sewer tunnels he'd been in earlier, he was only gone for like.. Half an hour maybe? What was so important that- Oh. Usagi was standing in the center of the room, Mikey clinging to him as usual while the others seemed to be talking with him. Usagi gave the brothers a sympathetic smile, one of his hands gently patting Mikey's head as he listened. Leo smiled a little seeing how gentle he was with Mikey, even though he had all the reasons to push him off or not even bother with affection towards him, it was sweet.. "Usagi?" He stepped in further, watching as all eyes turned to him. "Where have you been!?" Raph asked, stepping past the group ready to lecture his brother into the far future about leaving without telling anyone where he was going. "Ah- Sorry, I got a little.. Lost... And lost signal, but I'm here now. What's up?" He leaned over peeking past Raph to give Usagi a little wave, "Sorry I didn't see anyone's texts till now- Is something wrong..?" Usagi's silence wasn't reassuring.. "Sagi..?" He sidestepped past Raph who didn't even try to stop him thankfully, "C'mon what's goin on? How'd you even get here?" From the looks of it no one else had been told anything either, he wasn't sure if that was good or bad. "I managed. Since you'd showed me the way once before, I.. Apologize for the intrusion." "No no- I'm not- I was just wondering because I know how far it is. It must really be important huh? Seriously though, is something wrong?"

"It's.. My sensei-" He finally said after a moment. "I didn't want to say anything without you here." Usagi gently nudged Mikey telling him he needed to move, and thankfully he listened this time and stepped back. "He was hurt on a mission and won't let me help. He's always been stubborn and self-reliant to a fault but I'm not sure what else to do, he hasn't taught me much first aid so I don't know where to begin. And.. I'd be eternally grateful if you'd help me with the next mission." Raph perked up hearing mention of a mission, "Just say the word Usagi and the Mad Dogs will be there to help-" "No." Usagi raised his hand to cut him off, "I'm already disgracing Hyo's rule of asking for help at all, let alone from a ninja.. He'd have my head if I managed to involve the rest of you as well. Please.." "Oh. Well I guess that makes sense-" Leo grabbed his sword, a light blue trail of sparks already flying from the metal. "So we need to get him and patch him up first? We should bring him here, the med bay has more then enough to spare. I know the most about first aid here anyway so.." He looked back to Raph, "Is it okay if we do that, you guys can watch over him and I'll bring back some pizza as thanks." Raph hesitated, but nodded, "We made a vow to help anyone in need of it, if you think this is what we should do I won't argue." Leo nodded and looked back to Usagi, "Think he'll listen to me? Or should we get some kinda trank darts from Donnie's lab to make things go smoothly?" He said joking mostly of course, and gently nudged Usagi when he saw the yokai giving his joke actual consideration, "Oh c'mon, no one's more stubborn then me Sagi~ I'll get him back here no problem. Which, I should ask first.. How bad is it? Like.. Anything broken or still oozing?" Usagi smiled a little and nodded, "Right, I trust you." He thought for a moment, "It's.. I don't think anything's broken, and I managed to get most of the bleeding to slow down, it shouldn't be fatal at least."

Leo nodded and firmly gripped the hilt of his odachi, waving it away from the others as a bright blue portal opened up, "Alright, Mikey, go tell dad what's going on so he doesn't freak out and get everyone pizza order, Raph, you can text April and have her come over and help me once we get him in. Donnie get's to turn on all the weird stuff he built in the med bay since Raph will pass out if he sees blood or anything like it. Everyone got it?" The all nodded and headed off the separate ways save for Usagi who stood close to Leo. "What can I do..?" "You're gonna help me drag him back, I don't think he likes me vary much so having you there might help things be less.. Tense."

Once on the other side of the portal, which Leo surprisingly managed to create in the genkan of their house. It just hit Leo now, but Usagi had his ears down, it was probably the first time he'd seen them not tied back.. Even when they would go out together he hadn't looked this casual. Maybe he didn't have time while worrying about his teacher? He'd mention it later once all this was settled, this wouldn't be the best time to try and flirt.. Usagi stepped inside glancing around before heading up the stairs, "This way. He must've gone to his room." Leo followed in silence, taking a mental note of the tiny red pools trailing up the steps. That.. Isn't a great sign... "Sensei-" Usagi called softly, stopped at one of the doors at the end of the hallway, "I'm coming in." He pushed the door inward, finding him sitting on the floor beside his bed, he didn't look too bad but not with the light Leo noticed more of his features. He wasn't a lion like he thought before, there were dark spots trailing all over, he was a leopard. Interesting.. "Sensei! You should've stayed put like I said! You got blood all over the floor and I'm gonna end up being the one to scrub it out.." "..Iss fine. Leave me be, imjus need ta sleep it off." "Sensei please even you must see how childish this behavior is.." Leo rolled his eyes, gently patted Usagi's shoulder, "Let me." He knelt down in front of him and gently lifted his head, Leo's hand firmly under his chin to hold it up, "Name?"

"Hyō. Tomogui Hyō."

"Age?" "Fuck off-"

"That's fair.. Alright where does it hurt?" "I don't feel pain." "So everywhere got it. We're gonna take you to a more comfortable spot, can you stand?" "..Howdya think m got up 'ere?" "..Also fair. C'mon then-" "M not goin nowhere. Jus lemme.. Rest." "Yeah see, normally I would, but my cute boyfriend over there said he's worried about you, and if you're important to him then it's kinda my job to make sure you don't bleed out. Unless you'd rather me pull out the stitching kit here without any pain meds? I'm sure under this low light and unsterilized room I'll be much better at patching you up.. Oh and how easily do you get infected? And how attached are you to your limbs? Cause I mean I'm just spitballin here but you don't look too good and honestly the odachi makes for a pretty poor bone saw- But hey! I'm open to trying new things!" The was a long moment of silence before Hyo shifted, forcing himself to stand despite how off balance he was. "I hate turtles.." He muttered as Leo smiled and motioned for Usagi to put an arm around Hyo to help keep him steady while he reopened the portal. Thankfully aside from a few deep cuts and probably some bruised ribs he seemed okay, sure there were smaller cuts and it was hard to tell just how bruised he was under that fur, but he'd live.

"Why didn't you take him to some like, yokai hospital?" Leo asked, one arm under Hyo's other side as Usagi held up the other, walking him to the med bay. "He refused.. And I couldn't drag him that far. I was starting to consider getting some kind of taxi till I remembered you had the ability to portal. And he doesn't like those places, so having him in your care seemed like the better option." "Gotcha.. Well I'm glad you trust me that much, I'll do what I can. I'm sure he'll be fine though, it doesn't look that bad." They got to the med bay laying him down one of the already made bed, Donnie was still there using some kind of sterilizing light to make sure everything was still clean. "Please tell me you didn't make a mess getting him here." Leo rolled his eyes, "That's the least of you problems Dee, do you have your scanner, we'll need it." Donne nodded handing him a device shaped like a phone, "He's not in our database, clearly, so it'll take a little longer to show everything. It's fresh out of beta so be patient with it. Raph said April's on her way, it'll be a few minutes though." "That's fine, we should probably get his soaked clothes off any way so she probably wouldn't want to be here for that. I just need some extra hands to hold him till the meds kick in mostly, and someone to help clean up after." He held the scanner and let it do it's work as Usagi watched closely, wondering if this tech was only available to them or if most people had things like this.. He waited till Donnie left the room to gently tap Leo's shoulder, "Is there anything I can do?" Leo thought for a moment, "You can get some water if you want? And one of the rags over there, it'd be a pain if the blood dried and matted his fur. I don't think he'd be too happy if he woke up half shaved.." They both laughed a little trying to picture it.

-_-_-_-

Another half hour later April came into the room, "Raph said we had a medical emergency what happened-!" She froze in the doorway seeing Usagi dump a large bowl full of dark red water into the sink, and Leo standing over a body that looked like no one she'd seen before. "Oh jeeze okay- Leo you have ten seconds to explain who this is and why you're making your boyfriend play nurse for you-" "Ah April! I'm glad you're here! Also, have a little faith in me I know what I'm doing. This is Usagi's teacher, the one who raised him. He got hurt and I'm patching him up. Sagi offered to help so I gave him some busy work. But I need you to help wrap his arounds up after I finish with the stiches- Please." April sighed and nodded, setting her bag down and rolling up her sleeves to go help. "So what even happened?" "Sensei takes some of the most dangerous missions to protect the Hidden City. He puts the safety of those above himself, and as usual he refused help and was out numbered. Allowing the orchestrator of the attack to get away." "..Okay so he was ambushed or something? That's no good. What's gonna happen now then?" "We're going after him" Leo pulled the last stitch through tying it tightly, "Make sure he doesn't get up either, if those stitches rip I'm gonna make sure he's awake when I put 'em back in. He should be sleep long enough to sort things out, but can you watch him while we're out? You and Donnie can take turns if we take too long. But Raph hates it in here and so does Mikey." "They're not going with you?" "Well.. It's a long story but yeah, text me if anything happens and we'll come right back okay?" "You're lucky I love you Leo. Fine, I'll do the wraps and I guess now's a good time to get my homework finished.. Better bring me back something cool okay?" Leo nodded and after washing his hands opened another portal for him and Usagi, "Thanks, you're the best! I'll find something super cool for you before we get back I swear-" And with that he and Usagi stepped back, Hyo had been set up with a pretty heavy dose of anesthetic so Leo really hoped April wouldn't have to deal with him till he was back home.. But that was a problem for future him to worry about. Right now he and Usagi needed to find the culprit and bring them to justice.

And that started, at the West End.

Part 8.1 Part 1

TS Master Post

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ultfan · 8 months ago

Text

SHAKESPEARE AESTHETICS

ROMEO & JULIET:

suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bands. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you've met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

HAMLET:

speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered in sheets. fog at dawn, mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you'd say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

TWELFTH NIGHT:

wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas. flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you're unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

MACBETH:

the space where your grief used to be. a bird that's lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING:

the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall, hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you're home until you're there.

KING LEAR:

cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM:

the smell of wet soil and dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

#✁ ⇾ dash game.

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roofinglystersexteriors · 3 days ago

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sordidery · 1 year ago

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∘ ▫ ♚ richard campbell gansey iii & shakespeare aesthetics.

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you'd say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls' day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night. wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love's sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you're unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth. the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12:00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

king lear. cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren't jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

tagged by: @oddyseas. im smothering u in kisses and u cant do shit about it. tagging: @altarcup, for sabran or lestat or alice! @dreamlorn, love u. @damsul. @thanatologies. @wildkissed, for the trc kids or van or mal! @zerorisk, for the driver or grace!

#all of macbeth and king lear could've been put in bold. imagine ur gonna die soon but in hot southern summer with your friends.#i dont normally do these but this slayed #*TAG GAMES.

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brawlqueen · 1 year ago

Text

shakespeare aesthetic.

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter & spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night. wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses & a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

much ado about nothing. the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down & thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, & her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

a midsummer night’s dream. the smell of wet soil & dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body & not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

tagged by. stole it from @riwrite ! tagging: @zelotae @bonescribes @desuetmort @nulltune @nostomannia @paraleech @hopefromadoomedtimeline @lykaiia @causalitylinked @woeborns @sinplly @kiealer @toadmiretoweepover @peachrote @stellarhistoria @pleiadeshalo@sheyearns @psychcdelica + you !

#𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 *ೃ༄ “you wanna fight? bring it on!”#𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 *ೃ༄ seasons change but your heart never fails.#uGH #yeah she's fine

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xbadnews-a · 1 year ago

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SHAKESPEARE AESTHETICS

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

tagged by: no one! i saw it in my recommended posts & snatched it tagging: @softersinned ( on any blog ), @deathwalkerr, @stellarhistoria, @whalefelled, @seeliecourt, @bookofvesper, @turnedfolkl0re, @khenzi, @zealctry, @barovianblood & literally anyone who wants to do it i want to Know

#ooc.#dash games.#hc.#musings.

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belasso-blog · 1 year ago

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ted's shakespeare aesthetics.

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you'd say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls' day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night. wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love's sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you're unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth. the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12:00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

king lear. cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren't jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

tagged by: @andthe6 (thank you!!) tagging: @becoach @shegunner @afuckinglion @bekeeley @sangwoochos @consumare + anyone else who'd like to do this!!

#ooc. trick ramblings.#this was a fun one!!

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songandflame-archived · 1 year ago

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—— shakespeare aesthetic.

romeo & juliet.

suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet.

speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter & spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night.

wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses & a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth.

the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

much ado about nothing.

the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down & thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, & her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

king lear.

cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

Tagged stolen from: @leatherforhell || Tagging: those with an inner Jean Valjean

a midsummer night’s dream.

the smell of wet soil & dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body & not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

#;character study #;dash meme

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feysworn · 1 year ago

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SHAKESPEARE AESTHETICS.

hamlet. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

#POST ⤷ aesthetics.

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handeaux · 2 years ago

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For Poetry Month, We Salute 18 Renowned Cincinnati Poets From Days Gone By

Each April, the Academy of American Poets sponsors National Poetry Month. In recognition of Cincinnati’s extensive contributions to that genre, here is a collection of local poets who achieved distinction. If living poets were included, this list could easily triple in length.

A Careless Poet Soon Forgotten Among the earliest poets writing in Cincinnati was Charles A. Jones (1815-1851). He built a career publishing verse narratives about the Indians and outlaws of the western country. Between the years 1836 and 1839 he wrote frequently for the Cincinnati Mirror, and in 1840 contributed several poems to the Cincinnati Message, but paltry payments for these efforts led him to take up the law as his main career. A critic, William Turner Coggeshall, writing in 1860, admired Jones’ imagination and energy, but deplored his slapdash compositional habits and his aversion to revision: “The hasty production of an hour was sent to the press with all its sins upon its head.”

His Poem No Longer Memorized, Even The Plaque Is Gone Generations of American schoolchildren were compelled to read and memorize a Civil War poem by Thomas Buchanan Read (1822-1872) titled “Sheridan’s Ride.” The poem celebrated General Philip Sheridan’s rallying his soldiers to victory at the 1864 Battle of Cedar Creek in Virginia. It was so popular that newspapers often parodied it to skewer other topics. For many years, a plaque was mounted on the wall opposite the Public Library on Eighth Street commemorating the address at which Read wrote the famous poem. Read was popular and prolific; his poetry was collected in 1867 in a set of three volumes. In addition to poetry, Read was an accomplished painter. Several of his works, notably “The Harp of Erin” are displayed at the Cincinnati Art Museum.

Lawyer By Trade, Hero By Aspiration Although William Haines Lytle (1826-1863) studied law, he preferred the life of a soldier and composed poetry to celebrate his own heroic exploits. Lytle came from an honored line of military heroes. He fought in the Mexican War as a captain and achieved the rank of brigadier general during the Civil War. His verses were popular on both sides of the Mason-Dixon line. When a sniper’s bullet found him at Chickamauga in 1863, the rebel soldiers recognized Lytle and posted a guard around his body until it could be sent back to Cincinnati. As they stood watch, the Confederates quietly recited Lytle’s poems. Lytle Park in Cincinnati was his family’s estate.

An Inveterate Revisionist Coates Kinney (1826-1904) was not a Cincinnati native, but he relocated to the Queen City at an early age. Kinney served in the Union Army during the Civil War and in the Ohio General Assembly afterwards while also practicing law and working as a journalist. He was just 23 when he wrote his most famous poem, “Rain on the Roof,” which was reprinted, collected, set to music, pirated, misattributed and celebrated throughout his life. Much of the confusion derived from Kinney’s incessant tinkering with the poem. Over his lifetime, he declared at least three different versions to be definitive.

The Piatts Helped Save Harrison’s Tomb Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt (1836-1919) and John James Piatt (1835-1917) were Cincinnati’s answer to England’s Brownings (Robert and Elizabeth Barrett). A married couple, each earned a reputation as a poet. James Piatt was a scion of the wealthy Piatt family, though he never had much money himself. Sarah, known as Sallie, was related to orator and politician William Jennings Bryan. The couple, who lived just outside North Bend when they weren’t posted to one of John’s political appointments in Washington or Ireland, worked to preserve the tomb of William Henry Harrison. In life, John’s reputation eclipsed his wife’s. In recent years, new critical appraisals agree that Sarah was, by far, the better and more innovative poet.

Newspapers Led Everard Appleton To Poetry Everard Jack Appleton (1872-1931) started out as a newspaperman, with stints at Cincinnati’s Tribune, Commercial Gazette and Times-Star, earning a slot as a columnist known for humorous items in verse and prose. He also contributed stories and poems to national publications. He left behind a half-dozen volumes of poetry of which the best-known is probably “The Quiet Courage.” Appleton lived on Forest Avenue in Avondale.

A National Reputation Based On Odes To Domesticity Bertye Young Williams (1877-1951) published as B.Y. Williams over a productive career that resulted in a half-dozen books of poetry and appearances in the New York Times, Ladies Home Journal, Good Housekeeping, Saturday Evening Post and other nationally distributed magazines. She founded a poetry magazine and publishing house, Talaria, with fellow poet Annette Patton Cornell. She was president of the Ohio Chapter of the League of American Pen Women and of the Cincinnati Women’s Press Club. A book she co-authored with Annette Patton Cornell, “Garland for a City,” was illustrated by Caroline Williams (no relation).

Cincinnati’s Unsung (But Prolific!) Poet, Horace Williamson Horace G. Williamson (1880-1943) was perhaps the most prolific poet in Cincinnati history. You won’t find him in English class these days, nor in any anthologies. Williamson wrote for money, not for art. In the early 1900s, Williamson built a profitable sideline writing poems for greeting card companies, sometimes ghost-writing love letters on spec. He had a lot of side hustles. While employed as social secretary of the YMCA, Williamson ran a talent agency and also performed in character as the Roman dictator Cincinnatus in quite a few civic celebrations.

Confined To Bed, Raymond Dandridge’s Spirit Soared Although he once achieved fame, Raymond Garfield Dandridge (1883-1930) is sadly forgotten today. His poetry fits comfortably between his predecessor Paul Laurence Dunbar (to whom Dandridge was often compared) and his successor, Langston Hughes, beacon of the Harlem Renaissance. Dandridge was almost totally paralyzed by polio when he was a young man. He spent his entire writing career confined to bed, supporting himself and his mother by taking orders for coal shipments. Eventually, Dandridge’s poetry was collected by his friends into three slim volumes, offered for sale to augment his income as a coal merchant.

George Elliston’s Poetic Legacy Lives On Eccentricity manifested itself in the person of George Elliston (1883-1946). She was a longtime Cincinnati newspaperwoman who lived like a derelict but cultivated a bohemian entourage. At her death, Elliston left behind a few slim volumes and an estate worth a quarter-million dollars, grubbed together over the years by living in cold-water apartments, wearing castoff clothing and mooching meals. She bequeathed all of this to the University of Cincinnati to establish a modern poetry collection. Some of the great poets of the English language, such as Denise Levertov and Robert Frost, have served as Elliston poets-in-residence.

Eloise Robinson Was A Rare Woman War Poet Few Cincinnatians knew that Mrs. Corda Muchmore, wife of a College Hill realtor, was, in fact, Eloise Robinson (1888-1958), one of the finest war poets of America. In 1918, she journeyed to France with the YMCA to hand out refreshments and recite poetry to support the American troops. Her poems inspired by her days at the front, such as “He Had Such Glory In His Closing Eyes” and “War” were published nationally and much admired. She taught verse writing to generations of Cincinnatians through UC’s Evening College.

Postmaster And Poet Samuel Schierloh (1889-1968) followed a colorful road to poetry. Born in Reading, Ohio, he served five years in the Navy during the days when it was known as Teddy Roosevelt’s “Great White Fleet.” After a few years as an apprentice tailor in downtown Cincinnati, he joined the Post Office and eventually became postmaster in Mount Washington. In addition to penning poetry, he was a league bowler, golfer and an amateur painter. His poems mostly debuted in Cincinnati newspapers, but were collected in several volumes including “Down the Bright Seas” in 1958.

Cornell Declined Appointment As Ohio’s Poet Laureate In 1974, Annette Patton Cornell (1897-1986) was named the best Cincinnati writer of the past 50 years by the National Society of American Pen Women. Over a long career, she published five collections of her own poetry and promoted the work of others through a literary magazine, Talaria, she founded with fellow Cincinnati poet B.Y. Williams. Cornell had her own radio show devoted to poetry and other literary topics. An Ohio governor tried to recruit her as the state’s poet laureate, but she declined the invitation as a resident of Fort Mitchell, Kentucky. Her son, Si Cornell, had a long career at the Cincinnati Post.

Lawrence Welk Boosted The Career of Cincinnati’s Greeting Card Poet All of Helen Steiner Rice’s (1900-1981) best-selling books were published by Cincinnati’s Gibson Greeting Card Company. Rice was born in Lorain, Ohio and married a Dayton banker who committed suicide during the Great Depression. After working in publicity and inspirational speaking, she joined Gibson as an editor and worked there for more than 40 years. Her book sales skyrocketed in the 1960s when several of her poems were read on the Lawrence Welk television show.

X-ray Damage Launched A Poet’s Career While still a teenager, Anna M. Tansey (1906-1989) almost died when a doctor exposed her to a nearly fatal dose of X-rays. She lost one lung and part of another. Long an invalid, confined to bed, she devoured piles of books brought by her family from the library. When new antibiotics allowed her to leave her house, she embarked on a career as a poet and an advocate for ecumenical relations among religions. Her poems were often on spiritual themes, as the title of her best-selling poetry collection, “Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit” illustrates. As arthritis claimed her ability to type, she composed on a dictating machine and had her poems typed out by an assistant.

A Poet Of Great Influence Kenneth Koch (1925-2002) was born in Cincinnati to a fairly well-to-do family. His father sold office furniture and the family had a live-in maid. The family was frequently mentioned in Cincinnati newspaper society columns. After military service during World War II, Koch earned his doctorate and began a long career at Columbia University. Although he published dozens of books and was frequently anthologized, Koch is often remembered more today as a teacher than as a poet. His book on teaching children to write poetry, “Wishes, Lies and Dreams” (1970) was enormously influential.

One Small Poem For A Man . . . The oeuvre of Neil Armstrong (1930-2012), poet, is slight, consisting as it does of only two published stanzas, and that bit of doggerel clouded by controversy. In 1978, the Mini Page, a nationally syndicated children’s section carried in many newspapers, including the Cincinnati Post, asked Armstrong to provide a quote or first-person account of his moon landing. Rather than jotting a few lines of prose, Armstrong, then a professor at the University of Cincinnati, penned eight lines of poetry, clearly aimed at a juvenile audience. Unfortunately, through an editing error, the Mini Page deleted two words from Armstrong’s final line. Armstrong was not happy.

#cincinnati poets #cincinnati poetry #cincinnati literary

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