#bc she’s Eva

[nyaagolor]

Evanatsu Week Day 1: Closets / Phonecalls

I looked up Evanatsu week today to see if I could participate this year only to find that apparently it started yesterday. (oops)

Anyway, their dynamic fascinates me and I am finding new and exciting ways to articulate the deeply personal ways that these women can ruin each other's lives forever. Anyway, day 1, aka "Natsuhi is Rokkenjima's most pathetic closet case, send tweet"

-

The night before her wedding day, Natsuhi locked herself in her closet. It was the ghost of a childhood habit, born from winter days when burrowing herself in the trails of kimono fabric felt like the best way to keep warm. She would be enveloped on every side, insulated from the pervasive chill, and enjoy a special kind of stillness from the blanketing of light and sound. With every movement, the kaleidoscope of patterns from her dresses would sway, bringing a spectral kind of motion to the darkness, and Natsuhi frequently found herself lost in it, watching the shifting constellations in the dark. She could imagine dancers there, the twisting forms of shrine maidens or yokai, women with long hair who tickled her neck as she moved in tandem with them. In the cold, she could imagine their arms around her, bundled in ribbons of their long sleeves and skirts, beholden to nothing but the feather-light warmth and the feeling of their closeness. 

It wasn’t winter when she was married– spring had laid her warm hands upon the chill of winter, the world waking up to the rain as though blinking off the last vestiges of sleep. Just as the flowers poked through the dirt, the arrangements had been made, an April wedding to a man she did not know. Though she didn’t have the cold as an excuse, she found herself drawn to the screen doors, parting the fabric and staring blankly at the back of the closet. She didn’t know what she expected to find– a hidden door, maybe? Some way to escape, to run without the burden of shame on her family and disappear wordlessly into the ether? As she climbed in, huddling in the corner and letting the fabric settle around her, she tried to dismiss the thought. It had been a long time. She was 15, set to be married, a bastion of the dignity of the two families whose lines she walked between. She couldn’t afford to indulge in those kinds of thoughts. She was a woman, a soon-to-be wife, and it was for her family’s pride that she had to force down the reflexive wince at the idea. 

The once-spacious darkness felt more like a tight hug– Natsuhi had her back pressed against the corner with her legs drawn up to her chest and still barely stopped herself from tumbling out and through the screen door beside her. Stale air seemed to linger in the gaps between some of her older ceremonial outfits, still in here for who knows what reason. The kimonos strung up around her seemed to stifle even her breathing, the rolls of dust unearthed from the corners more visible in the faint light than the patterns of the fabric. The comfort of it bordered on oppressive, things too big and old and incongruent to fit back into the familiar picture. There wasn’t really even a point to this. Natsuhi’s husband was coming in a precious few hours. She should be sleeping, not hiding. There was no space for this kind of solitude in married life, no closets to hide in like a little girl or old fabric to find stories in. There were no princes.  Even if tacitly, she became aware of the finality of this moment, what this feeling meant— the real consequence of her sudden, final discomfort in the safest part of her home. It was an irreparable shattering of an old memory, a new kind of self-reflection that swirled in the back of her mind, right with a raw grief for something she didn’t yet know. Something had changed beneath her feet, shifted in directions she couldn’t yet name, changed shape without her. Fit awkwardly into the space, choking on the dust as her face became hot and wet with tears, Natsuhi buried her face into the kimono beside her, rubbing her cheek against the silk and tried to imagine she was anywhere but here. 

-

Perhaps it was a strange thing to notice, but the mansion on Rokkenjima did not have closets built into the walls. There were smaller, maze-like rooms branching from some of the bedrooms, but the entire design ethos felt downright brutalistic as far as Natsuhi was concerned. Screen doors and crannies within the walls were turned to utilitarian, blank rooms, fitted with large raised beds and armoires with heavy doors and deep, cavernous spaces like hungry mouths. If the doors happened to swing open in the night, Natsuhi found herself captivated by the sheer darkness— the clothes within were indistinguishable, and one could be mistaken for thinking that blackness extended beyond the walls if you only reached into it. Anything could lurk within that space, invisible insofar as it remained behind the boundary of the doors. When Natsuhi was feeling especially perturbed by the mansion, the island, this family and the marks they made on her, she wondered whether it would be preferable to submit herself to whatever it was that lay there. She knew better, though, and so she wrote it down. 

Pen to paper, she could tease out the shapes she saw in the dark, the curves and figures come to life in swaying fabric patterns. She could conceptualize the feeling of being enveloped in silk, of soft caresses and bodies under her touch that were familiar enough to be her own. She could put words to the dancers that used to only show themselves in the hidden halls of her old home, find an ease in the shapes of shrine maidens and yokai. When Krauss drew his hands down her back and she imagined someone else, she could give a name to it later, to turn those thoughts to words and banish them to the dark hallways that extended beyond her closet doors when the darkness made such boundaries thin enough as to not matter. If you didn’t open them, who’s to say how far the closet extended into the dark? She banished the fantasies of cold winters to a more childish version of herself within the pages. Natsuhi Ushiromiya was the wife of the soon-to-be head of household, and there was no space in here for anything or anyone else. 

-

Rokenjima itself was a closet, Natsuhi thought to herself. Dark and suffocating, walls that extended into forever on every side of you. It was a little box, a closed room, draped in fabric and dust that swayed until you could see things in it. Men and women existed as specters of themselves in constant, ethereal motion; a kaleidoscope of desire weaved itself behind the locked doors. The patterns themselves became alive, illusion upon illusion for as long as a person dared to look at them. The hallway extended as far back as you let it.

Natsuhi coughed on the taste of copper in her mouth. A thick pain blossomed in her stomach, a sharp kick just beneath her ribcage choking whatever protest had been on her tongue. Eva was screaming at her, punctuating her vitriol by kicking at anything exposed, a look of utter revulsion on her face. Her hands, clenched at her sides, shook with an intensity that Natsuhi didn’t have the words for, a venom that twisted her face into hideous contours as she spat and howled at the woman at her feet. Her heel had already come down on Natsuhi’s wrist, the pain making her mind buzz and her hearing fade to a consistent, meaningless static in an instant. Swirling patterns of hardwood and the fringes of a thick european rug undulated in her vision, swaying in a rhythmless crowd as the tears blurred it to abstraction. Elsewhere in the mansion, duct tape still hanging from the handle, sat an empty armoire, its door hanging open. 

[minzart]

Watched Ultraman Rising today and GOOD LORD HELLO I LOVE THIS FILM SO MUCH

I cried. SO MUCH DURING THESE 2H HOLLY SHIT

I would give my life for lil Emi, she's adorable and deserves all fish in the world

[huntedsmark]

Marionette, Kingmaker | A comic about dark powers, promises, and what it means to be a King

[adamworu]

Getting Shinji Ikari’s character is such a visceral punch because he’s an abuse victim who jumps hoops to make people happy. The act of practical back breaking is less about martyrdom aka Doing This for the Good of Man and more of not making the other person mad. Walking on eggshells or a game of emotional minesweeper? It comes at the cost of your happiness, but when you’re abused and your suitcase is mostly filled with others’ baggage, it’s hard to tell your happiness from others.

[tearlunars]

save me pink cat girl , pink cat girl save me !

[86future]

[ 2ND CHILDREN / 5TH CHILDREN ]

— The truth is, Unit 02 simply isn’t compatible with the other EVAs. (E14)

— I never imagined this boy could synchronize with Unit 02 without replacing its core. Quite astonishing. (E24)

Death & Rebirth Pamphlet / Cruel Angel’s Thesis OP / EVA-02 wiki / DEATH (TRUE ²) / E16 / E24 / DEATH (TRUE ²) / E22 / 3.0: You Can (Not) Redo Cover / E09 / The End of Evangelion / E09 / E24 / NGE Manga / The End of Evangelion

[cerubean]

townies pt. #334298

[nano30cm]

i'm so normal about these three (i'm not)

[nota1eks]

why is he sopping wet. why is he showing up at stratt's trailer door. what is wrong with him. entirely up to you.

i'd love to hear why yall think he's showing up (wet) to stratt's door like he's about to say🧍‍♂️mommy i frew up

god he's such a wet cat im going to hit him with a large rock

[plenaurum]

i love amen but i hope eva gets the option to beat the shit out of him like amala with amrit

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

not to make angst out of a fucking gag but also thinking about the silly au rei in the final episode makes me think about how different rei would be if she didn’t have literally the worst dad ever. like, no, she probably wouldn’t have been the upbeat adhd whirlwind in the high school au lmao. but it does just make me think. because while all the pilots lives are incredibly marked by trauma, rei's the only one to have never had access to any sort of normal life. her entire personality and worldview is shaped from being isolated, groomed, and taught to see herself as a tool and not a person. and then i just get so sad that she never had any chance of a normal life where she could discover herself and what she is. she went from being abused and manipulated by gendō (which is made even worse with the implications certain scenes leave about their relationship) to becoming god. she never had any chance of living a normal life. and just like. fuck.

[raykat]

unloading some old annas and angels

[brookiidookiii]

wlw jockjockjock looks at u

yeah ill get behind that

also this doesnt have to do with the ask but i drew it a week ago so ill share it anyways

[moeblob]

Druas and Eva

[tearlunars]

the fall of icarus.

[popstart]

the cute thing about team escope is with evas label being the female bully and noah and izzy being like Theeee most bullyable people on the planet its easy to assume eva wouldn't like them but theyre actually bffs and its cute and i like it a lot