#blossom mania

[maureen2musings]

yorkshire_brew

[joneoyvilde03]

Sonic and jone-foxywild at the cherry blossoms

ジョンフォックスヴイルデ & ソニック・ザ・ヘッジホッグ

Hello everyone I glade for cherry blossoms sakura and happy for Chinese years to dog and dragon hybrids and his best how world and sonic see it for beautiful forms and i love it for special a wonderful and thanks for made joneoyvilde03

character from:

sonic the hedgehog/sega

city town mania forces X2

by joneoyvilde03

[sonicmusicmusings]

Good evening friends! Queue is getting low, so I'll throw my hat in the ring for a couple tracks here.

This track has such a nice groove to it. While Act 1 has a hard 6/8 triplet feel, this one goes for a smoother, straighter approach. I love the backing riff that permeates through the whole A section, with the natural 6 in there for that classic mixolydian sound. The flutey sound in the synth in the A section gives a dreamy quality that gives space to focus on the background parts, before the squealing FM synth comes in with the second half of the melody. The B section continues to bring it all together in a cadence--even with some vocal samples deep in the mix for depth, it sounds like! It's enough so that things back off on the turnaround to reset your ear for the next loop.

[jaethaone]

Coming For Whats Mine

Part 2

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black female reader, mentions of Carmelo Hayes x black female reader

Rating: 18+

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: None really. Slight angst? maybe? Hint of toxic at the end. That’s all really.

Summary: Set at SummerSlam, Four Months after Wrestle Mania, Yn is set to defend her WWE Women’s Championship Title after her win at Wrestle Mania. It’s also been four months since she’s last seen, or heard from Roman despite their “relationship” at the time. How will things go for the Champion when the rumors of his return prove true.

A/n: So this is the first fic I’ve written in like 4 years, SummerSlam kind of gave me a sliver of inspiration so bear with me. I’m always up for feedback so reblog, comment, let me know what you guys think. I also left it open for a possible part two.. maybe. This Is Also Considered An AU since the events in the story don’t exactly follow real life.

GIF: @jeysuso

The bustling energy at SummerSlam 2024 pulsated through the air backstage as sound technicians, lighting crews, and wrestlers flitted about like frenetic fireflies. Excitement brimmed over in every corner; tonight was pivotal, not just for the promotion but for wrestlers both in and out of the ring.

Yn took a moment for herself, the chill of the backstage environment a welcome contrast to the crowded chaos outside. She stood before a mirror, The glint of the title belt rested on her shoulder like a crown she’d fought hard to earn, the gold reflecting her determination. The echo of cheers from the audience seeped through the walls, only intensifying her focus. Yet, despite the momentous occasion, a lingering heaviness sat in the pit of her stomach.

It had been four months since she had claimed the WWE Women’s Championship, and it felt like only yesterday when she had tasted victory after a grueling match against IYO SKY the same night Roman Reigns had lost his title to Cody Rhodes.

“Yn, you ready champ?”

Bianca’s voice broke through her thoughts bright and buoyant. She appeared at Yn’s side, her own hair styled to perfection, radiating confidence as she and Jade entered her dressing room after knocking.

Bianca, her fiery spirit contrasting with Yn’s calm demeanor, wore a dazzling outfit that shimmered under the harsh lights. Jade followed, her presence like a grounding force, her eyes full of both mischief and wisdom.

“I’ll be fine,” Yn replied, forcing a smile as she turned to face her friend. “Just another match, right?”

“Just another? It feels monumental to me,” Jade said thoughtfully, nudging her friend playfully. “Especially with the rumors swirling about Roman returning tonight. You two used to be… close?”

“Yeah.. close,” Yn replied, her tone fluctuating between nonchalance and suppressed emotion. “That feels like forever ago.”

“Or a different era,” Bianca added, eyebrow raised.

Despite Yns indifferent tone she couldn’t mask the tightness creeping into her chest. Days blurred together into months since that fateful night at WrestleMania, where Roman lost the title to Cody Rhodes, and Yn was crowned champion. It was supposed to be a moment of mutual joy, but the victory had felt hollow. Roman had ghosted her, leaving a void where triumph should have blossomed. Despite their burgeoning friendship, one that had hinted at something deeper, he had vanished, and with him, her hope.

“Four months is an eternity in WWE time. You really don’t feel anything now that he’s back?” Bianca asked breaking through Yns thoughts

Yn shook her head, pushing strands of hair out of her face. “No. I mean, we all have our lives to live, right? Roman ghosted me after ‘Mania. I saw it for what it was.” Despite her words, she felt a flicker of uncertainty. She had believed in something that night, something she wished wouldn’t fade with his silence.

“Uh-huh! Sure,” Jade challenged, eyeing Yn with skepticism. “You’re telling me you don’t care at all? You two had something special, and now he’s just…gone?”

“Seriously, Yn,” Bianca added. “You can’t deny it. You liked him.”

Yn inhaled sharply, steeling her heart against the memories of laughter shared and conversations that crawled past midnight.

Yn brushed off their concern with a laugh, but it felt hollow. “I’m all good. I don’t think about Roman. I have a match tonight, and I need to focus on that. It doesn’t matter what he does or doesn’t do anymore. Besides I’ve got Carmelo. We’re not serious, but he’s here.”

“Carmelo? Really, that’s your takeaway?” Bianca Deadpanned. “Just be careful; he’s not exactly your usual type.”

“Great!” Yn grinned, but it was a little forced now. “Your concerns about Carmelo are adorable, but I can handle myself.”

She could hear the raucous cheers outside growing louder, a reminder of the pressure that lay ahead. Tonight was about her, her title, her reign. To maintain that, she needed to block out everything else. But as the show rolled on, Yn couldn’t escape the gnawing apprehension filling her thoughts. It surrounded her like a fog, thickening with each moment that passed leading to her title defense.

Time passed in a blur. The moments leading up to her entrance felt drawn out, yet time seemed to tick away invisibly. When it was her turn, the lights dimmed, and the arena erupted. The audience roared, adrenaline coursed through her veins, but the shadows of the past clung stubbornly.

Despite this she stepped out to face her challenger, she was an embodiment of strength and resilience. The adrenaline fueled her, and nothing was going to stand in her way. Each cheer, every shout of her name, ignited the fire within, and her determination flared to life.

The match unfolded with a punctuated rhythm of hard-hitting action, each move resonating with the audience who cheered her on. Yn felt powerful, confident, her expressions dropping into fierce concentration.

It was brutal yet exhilarating. Yn gave everything she had, countering her opponent’s moves with the skill she had honed over countless hours in the ring. The crowd rallied behind her, and she thrived off their energy, pushing herself beyond limits, chasing victory as she’d always done.

Time melted away, and at last, the bell rang. Yn stood victorious, breathless and basking in the exhilaration of the win. She raised her championship high, the bright lights illuminating her triumph. Cheers erupted, but all the while, there was a nagging sensation in her gut, the victory felt hollow.

As she exited the ring, the crush of bodies shifted, and the atmosphere in the locker room transformed. It was electric, reminiscent of old times tinged with uncertainty.

Yn sat in her locker room as the rest of the night cruised by, watching the remaining matches unfold. Unknowingly holding her breath as she watched the match between Solo And Cody For The Universe Championship.

Watching as every “member” of the Bloodline came out to assist Solo in trying to secure his win over Cody You stood to your feet as the familiar music hit your ears and the pop of the crowd could be heard from your room. The rumors were true.

The Tribal Chief was back

After watching Roman superman punch and spear Solo allowing Cody to retain his title, and also watching Roman tell Cody that said title belonged to him, you felt that it was time to head to your hotel. Granted you could have left a long time ago, not watching to face the real reason you decided to stay behind.

She steeled her racing heart and grabbed her bags, stepping out into the quiet of the halls, the noise of the crowd now a distant crescendo.

As she rounded the corner there he stood. Roman Reigns, backlit by the leering lights of the arena, as if he had stepped out of a dream.

He looked different yet the same—strong, confident, and undeniably captivating.

“Yn!”

“Roman,” she replied, her heart hammering. She hadn’t anticipated this confrontation, nor was she prepared for the swirl of conflicting emotions erupting in her chest.

“Congratulations,” he offered, an easy smile playing on his lips, yet something felt rehearsed.

“Thanks,” she replied curtly, crossing her arms in subconscious defense. “Interesting timing, coming back after all this.”

“I’m back for good,” he clarified, an edge in his tone indicating the seriousness of his intention. “But I wanted to say—”

“Say what?” Yn interrupted. “Say you’re sorry for ghosting? For pretending we meant something?”

“You ghosted me, Roman. Four months. All this time, and not a word.”

He winced, an ache dancing in his eyes.

The air between them was thick with unresolved tension.

“I missed you.”

She laughed at that. “You have a funny way of showing it”

“It wasn’t just that night, Yn. that lost. It felt as if I lost everything. I had to rebuild.” His gaze softened, making her heart flip against her will. “You… you were a part of that journey I thought I needed to let go of.”

“And what? You think just appearing will change anything?” Yn shot back, her frustration rising. “You put me through hell—and yet, I fought to be the champion! To earn this belt!”

He stepped closer, reducing the distance with every heartbeat thrumming in her ears. “You’ve always been a champion babygirl. I’m just glad the rest of the world gets to see what I’ve already known”

Yn’s chest tightened, anger and nostalgia battling for dominance at the nickname. “You think it’s that simple? You don’t just disappear and then show up like a knight in shining armor because you feel like it."

“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” he said, his voice steady. “But I want to earn it. I need to try. For you.”

“I also see you.. with him—” he gestured vaguely, as if Carmelo were an afterthought.

“Carmelo treats me right,” Yn insisted, but doubts flickered like shadows behind her bravado.

“Does he?” Roman's intensity was disarming. “I never wanted to let you go; I was scared. But I know what you’re worth now.”

Yn’s heart raced, torn between the spark ignited by Roman’s words and the steady, purposeful connection she had built with Carmelo. “It’s not about you anymore, Roman. You chose yourself. You didn’t want what we had. If you want to play the game, you’ll have to accept that I’m moving forward.”

His expression faltered, and for a moment, she found herself yearning for their shared past, pushing against the memories of laughter and warmth. Yet, it was all too easy to fall back into the gravitational pull of his world—a world filled with echoes of promises and guilt.

“I’m here, Yn,” he said quietly, as if hoping his words could reshape her very understanding of their reality. “What I did was wrong, but I’m not here only for redemption. I’m here for you, if you’ll let me.”

The moment stretched like elastic, both thrilling and frightening. Yn remembered the spark she felt when they were together, the laughter, the whispered dreams. But she also recalled the shattering silence that followed his departure.

“I—” she started, taking a deep breath, heart racing as she grappled with the looming decision.

For what felt like an eternity, Yn stood silent as the shadows of doubt and desire melded and twisted within her. She thought of Carmelo, the person who had been there for her. Their relationship was light and airy, a painful attempt to distract herself from the past. Yet here Roman stood—the embodiment of unresolved emotions she had tried to bury deep.

“Roman—” she began, but he interrupted, stepping closer, the distance closing.

“Just give me a chance to explain. I was scared, Yn. Scared of what I felt for you, scared of the title loss, and scared—I know I didn’t handle it well. But I’m back now, and I want to make things right.”

“Things can’t just go back to the way they were,” she countered, a part of her wrestling with the truth of his words. She could fall back into this, but the other side—the need to protect herself—screamed loudly.

“You’re right. They can’t,” he agreed, his gaze unwavering. “But we can create something new. If you’ll let me.”

Yn felt the weight of indecision settle heavily. A part of her craved the safety of the stable friendship she had begun building with Carmelo, but her heart ached at the possibility of all she’d sought and lost with Roman.

Ultimately, she would have to choose. Would she risk the familiarity and comfort of her connection with Carmelo, or would she allow the flame that had once flickered so brightly with Roman to reignite?

“Tonight, I am the champion,” she whispered, steadying her resolve. “But I don’t know if I can be your...whatever it is you want from me.”

“I— I just don’t know if I can trust you again. I have to protect what I have built alone, Roman, even if it isn’t what you think it should be.”

A smile ghosted Roman’s lips, bittersweet but hopeful. “No rush. I’m not going anywhere this time. Just know that I’ll be waiting—should you choose to return.”

And as the air thickened with possibilities and remnants of the past hung like a thin veil, Yn found herself standing at the crossroads of longing and familiarity.

Meanwhile Roman was back not only for his spot as Tribal Chief and Head of the Table, or His Championship.. those will all come in due time trust. He was back for what was his, and that included Yn.

[greenwitchcrafts]

October 2023 witch guide

Full moon: October 28th

New moon: October 14th

Sabbats: Samhain

October Hunter's Moon

Known as: Blood moon, drying rice moon, falling leaf moon, freezing moon, migrating moon, moon of the changing seasons, shedding moon, ten colds moon, winterfelleth & windermanoth

Element: Air

Zodiac: Libra & Scorpio

Nature spirits: Frost faeries & Plant faeries

Deities: Apollo, Astarte, Belili, Cernunnos, Demeter, Hathor, Herne, Horned God, Ishtar, Kore, Lakshmi & Mercury

Animals: Elephant, jackal, ram, scorpion & stag

Birds: Crow, heron & robin

Trees: Acacia, apple, cypress & yew

Herbs/Plants: Angelica, apple blossom, burdock, catnip, pennyroyal, sweet Annie, thyme & Uva ursi

Flowers: Calendula, cosmos & marigold

Scents: Apple blossom, cherry & strawberry

Stones: Amethyst, beryl, obsidian, opal, tourmaline & turquoise

Colors: Black, dark blue, Dark greens & purples

Energy: Artistic works, balance, creativity, harmony, inner cleansing, justice, karma, legal matters, mental stimulation, partnerships, reincarnation & uncovering mysteries or secrets

It is believed that this name originates from the fact that it was a signal for hunters to prepare for the upcoming cold winter by going hunting. This is because animals were beginning to fatten up in preparation for the winter season. Moreover, since fields had recently been cleared out under the Harvest Moon, hunters could easily spot deer and other animals that had come out to search for remaining scraps. Additionally, foxes and wolves would also come out to prey on these animals.

The earliest use of the term “Hunter’s Moon,” cited in the Oxford English Dictionary, is from 1710. Some sources suggest that other names for the Hunter’s Moon are the Sanguine or Blood Moon, either associated with the blood from hunting or the color of the changing autumn leaves. 

Samhain

Also known as: All Hallow's Eve,  Ancestor Night, Feast of Apples, Feast of Sam-fuim, Feast of Souls, Feast of the Dead, Geimhreadh, Hallowmass, Martinmass, Old Hallowmas, Pagan New Year, Samana, Samhuinn, Samonios, Shadowfest & Third Harvest

Season: Fall

Symbols: Apples, bats, besom(brooms), black cats, cauldrons, ghosts, gourds, jack-o-lanterns, pumpkins, scarecrows & witches

Colors: Black, gold, orange, silver & white

Oils/incense: Basil, cloves, copal, frankincense, gum mastic, heather, heliotrope, mint, myrrh & nutmeg

Animals: Bat, boar, cat cattle & dogs

Stones: Amber, anatase, black calcite, black obsidian, black tourmaline, brass, carnelian, clear quartz diamond, garnet, gold, granite, hematite, iron, jet, marble, pearl, pyrite, ruby, sandstone, sardonyx, smokey quartz, steel & tektite

Foods: Apples, ale, beef, cider, corm, fruits, garlic, gourds, grains, hazelnuts, herbal teas, mushroom, nettle, nuts, pears, pomegranates, pork, poultry, pumpkin pie, sunflower seeds, thistle, turnips & wine (mulled)

Herbs/plants: Acorn, Allspice, catnip, corn, dittany of Crete, hazel, mandrake, mugwort, mullien, oak leaves, pine, rosemary, sage, straw, tarragon, thistle, wormwood & yellow cedar

Flowers: Calendula, chrysanthemum, deadly nightshade, rue & fumitory

Goddesses: Al-lat, Baba Yaga, Badb, Banba, Bast, Bebhionn, Bronach, Brunhilde, Cailleach, Carlin, Cassandra, Cerridwen, Copper Woman, Crobh Dearg, Devanyani, Dolya, Edda, Elli, Eris, Erishkigal, Fortuna, Frau Holde, Hecate, Hel, Ishtar, Kali, Macha Mania, Morrigan, Nemesis, Nephthys, Nicneven & Rhiannon

Gods: Arawan, Baron Samede, Belenus, Coyote, Cronus, Dagda, Dis, Hades, Loki, Nefertum, Odin, Osiris, Pluto, Woden & Xocatl

Issues Intentions & Powers: Crossroads, darkness, death, divination, honoring ancestors, introspection, the otherworld/underworld, release, visions & wisdom (of the crone)

Spellwork: Divination, fire magick, night magick, shape-shifting, spirit calling & water magick

Related festivals:

• Day of the Dead- (Spanish: Día de Muertos or Día de los Muertos) is a holiday traditionally celebrated on November 1st and 2nd, though other days, such as October 31 or November 6, may be included depending on the locality. It is widely observed in Mexico, where it largely developed & is also observed in other places, especially by people of Mexican heritage. Although related to the simultaneous Christian remembrances for Hallowtide, it has a much less solemn tone and is portrayed as a holiday of joyful celebration rather than mourning. The multi-day holiday involves family and friends gathering to pay respects and to remember friends and family members who have died. These celebrations can take a humorous tone, as celebrants remember funny events and anecdotes about the departed.

• All Saints Day- is a Christian solemnity celebrated in honor of all the saints & martyrs of the Church, whether they are known or unknown

Activities:

• Dedicate an altar to loved ones who have passed

• Boil a simmer pot to cleanse your space

• Have a silent dinner

• Light a candle for your loved ones & yourself

• Decorate your house and/or altar

• Release negative energy & cleanse your with a ritual bath

• Pull tarot cards to see what may be in store for you ahead

• Cleanse, clean & de-clutter your space

• Leave offerings to the Fae

• Journal & reflect on your accomplishments, challenges & everything you did this year

•Go on a nature walk

• Learn a new form of divination

• Have a bonfire with your friends and/or family

• Carve pumpkins

• Express yourself creatively through art, music, ect

• Visit a cemetery & help clean off areas that need it or to visit a family member/ ancestor & leave an offering

• Hold a seance

• Bake spooky treats & bread as offerings

• Refresh your protection magicks, sigils & rituals

Samhain is a Gaelic festival on 1 November marking the end of the harvest season and beginning of winter or "darker half" of the year. Celebrations begin on the evening of 31 October, since the Celtic day began and ended at sunset.

This fire festival is celebrated on October 31st & is considered the Pagan New Year. It is the first Sabbat on the Wheel of the Year, a cross-quarter festival & the third (final) harvest festival of the mundane year. This is the time when the veil between the worlds of the living & those who have passed is the thinnest, which allows greater communication between the two

Some believe this is the time of the Goddess's mourning of the death of the God until his rebirth at Yule. The Goddess's sadness can be seen in the shortening, darkening days & the arrival of cold weather

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's 2023 magical almanac: practical magic for everyday living

Wikipedia

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

[dalishious]

Ooh a new Surana warden! Care to tell more about her? 👉👈

Vesta Surana does not remember where she comes from, as she was taken to the Circle at such a young age and had it drilled into her that her life before doesn't matter. But when she visits the Denerim alienage, she is overjoyed to find people who recognize the name Surana. She is in fact a long lost cousin of the Tabris family, and Shianni is all too happy to tell her what she knows of her parents. Unfortunately, those parents were already taken by the slavers, and it eats Vesta up inside to know she came so close to being reunited with them, only to have them taken away from her yet again. It definitely puts her on a personal vengeful path against Loghain.

She has severe self-esteem issues from being treated so poorly, as a mage and as an elf. Her quest to save Ferelden doubles as a journey of self-discovery and empowerment, as she finds out who she really is outside of everyone telling her who she has to be.

Morrigan is an especially powerful inspiration, and it doesn't take long for Vesta to develop a crush on the apostate. At first, Morrigan sees it as nothing more than a fun distraction, and is more than willing to play with Vesta's emotions. But things slowly grow more serious than Morrigan ever could have anticipated, and that both scares and confuses her. Vesta, on the other hand, is still figuring out how this whole freedom thing works... Between the two of them, they fumble into love quite awkwardly, but what blossoms is something truly special.

Vesta was taught all her life that blood magic was evil. But she is also extremely loyal to Jowan, and if he of all people is a blood mage, than surely it could not be as the Chantry told, right? This leads her down a path of trying it herself, much to Alistair's horror. She doesn't know what she's doing but she's so high on feeling freedom that it's like a decision made out of mania. What doesn't (or does?) help is Morrigan's encouragement, and Vesta wants to desperately impress Morrigan. So, yeah. She becomes a blood mage rather early on in her travels.

Her greatest talent is burning things.

[rebo-chan]

Hello, everyone. To today's episode of Tumblr user Rebo-chan loses her mind and assigns each and every Vongola guardian a flower that I have painstakingly searched high and low for (I wish I was being dramatic, I got too invested in this as I worked on it). Is this done in a state of mania? Perhaps, but I am diseased by COVID-19 as we speak and this is what I will do with the time I am meant to be resting with. Nonetheless we must get started. Content under the cut, because I can NEVER make a short post. It's against my core beliefs clearly.

Sawada Tsunayoshi:

The European Orange Lily (Lilium bulbiferum)

My reasoning for this starts with the fact that the "lily" itself has a lot of different meanings, but the important aspect of the lily is that its considered the spring flower and represents often meanings of renewal and rebirth. The very messaging for our sweet boy, a life restarted after he meets his mentor. An orange lily specifically has meanings dipped into warmth, joy, passion (In regards to his devotion to those he loves), 'welcoming' to new opportunities in your life (lol), and most importantly - confidence and pride. Something that he grows to be over the course of his renewal, pride in his friends. Confidence in his strength to protect them. KHR is a story about a nobody becoming somebody strong enough to protect them, even and especially when they falter themselves. It should also be noted that in Hanakotoba (Japanese flower language), orange lilies represent 'revenge and hatred'. Which I think is a factor of Tsuna we can't ignore, as sweet as he is, TYL Tsuna's actions become darker the more you think about them. Tsuna can and has killed when a villain has overstepped too far, and never forget that he just wanted to know "who" Yamamoto's attacker was. For no reason, just to look at him, maybe shake his hand lol. Fr though, that boy's made of fire, both to keep his loved ones warm and to burn their enemies. I think the orange lily fits him nicely.

Also yes, I'll do my best to color-code these flowers~

Gokudera Hayato:

A Red Fressia

So, its quite hard actually to find any sort of 'red' flowers that aren't about some sort of romantic-esque devotion. Just being a red flower inherently puts you in that category of 'passion, love, marriage' meanings when it comes to flowers. It's a real struggle, but luckily he's our only red character amongst the Vongola kids. Okay, so the Freesia is represented by the concept of friendship and ultimate trust. I think it was easier for me to find a flower that represents devotion or duty and tack it on to Gokudera, but I think that's just looking at him on the surface. The story behind the freesia is that the botanist who found them in South Africa decided to name it after his friend as a symbol of their friendship. Very lovely :)<3 For all of Gokudera's dutiful affection for Tsuna, a lot of it is based on the fact that Tsuna was his first friend and the person who he trusted first. His eventual character growth and bonding with the other guardians came as he allowed himself to trust them, when he realized that his 'duty' that he believed to be absolute was above his bonds. Rather, it's his bonds that strengthen his resolve to be the perfect right hand man. Due to the intense representation of friendship and trust, freesias are given to a loved one to represent commitment to them, not unlike Gokudera's commitment to Tsuna and therefore the Vongola family unit. It should also be noted that in Hanakotoba, freesias also have a negative meaning which is childishness and immaturity which I do feel is something that Gokudera has to work through in order to become the best version of himself and has done quite well at by the end of the series. He's our little friendship blossom :)<3 Yamamoto Takeshi: Himalayan Blue Poppy

Let me start this by complaining that 'blue' flowers are so fucking rare, it took me forever to find something matched and was also color-coded with Yamamoto, that didn't dip into too indigo, because of the rarity of a nicely blue flower. To start, blue as a color has all those lovely Yamamoto vibes of being calming, easy on the mind, tranquility, all that beautiful stuff we know Yamamoto to be. (It's almost like Amano color-coded her characters guys..) Poppies themselves got a bit of cultural significance in the West, being the flowers given to WW1 soldiers after they'd passed as a way of remembrance. They're also known for growing in desolate war-torn areas, just a patch of poppies as well as having many soldiers buried with a poppy with them in honor. With that the poppy itself has themes of death, honor, lessons, tradition and remembrance. With Yamamoto’s connection to the Poppy flower, Yamamoto himself is..pretty death-coded. HEAR ME OUT. HEAR !! ME OUT!!!! Varia arc, Squalo ‘dies’ against Yamamoto. Future arc, Tsuyoshi is killed for Yamamoto being involved with the Vongola, Shimon with Yamamoto himself getting nearly killed and then that big moment where he offers to kill Daemon in retaliation for what was done to Kaoru. While not canon as well, the primo fillers are about Yamamoto dealing with the fact he DIDNT kill daisy and how he felt he had to be less easy-natured and actually go for the kills from now on. And of course, his attempt during daily life when he could not do what he loved anymore. He’s VERY death-coded y’all. But the poppy itself isn’t just some omen of death, but the lessons one can gather from those who have passed. Yamamoto’s own battle style is about taking the lessons of those before him who carried Shigure Soen Ryu and then growing upon that to carve a new and improved future for himself and those he cares about. He adapts to their lessons, what Squalo and Tsuyoshi have to teach him. On the fly, continuing the Shigure legacy and creating more moves to eventually pass on to the one that succeeds him. In general, he carries any lessons he has up until the end of the series and tries to never make the same mistake again. Whether that’s his lessons against the Mists he’s battled, his loss against Squalo for not having a proper sword style, and though he doesn’t get a chance against Gamma again, he’s always understood the importance of teamwork. That being said, he’s not just a poppy. He’s a Himalayan Blue Poppy. You see the himalayan blue poppy has a different meaning outside that of the ones that the other poppies do. With its rarity, it also represents success, potential, pursuit of dreams, and possibility.  Yamamoto is the Vongola family’s prodigy, a natural born hitman, the star baseball player on his team. Stuck at a crossroads between his dream and being able to be in a position to protect the ones he loves. An impossibly difficult choice to make, yet Yamamoto handles it with ease. He just won’t choose! He’ll do both! Which fights very nicely with the Hanakatoba meaning of the poppy. “Fun-loving” “A reminder to remember happiness.” Along with general blue color meanings of tranquility, that is Yamamoto to his core, I believe. When things get their worst, he is there to remind everyone that it is never as bad as it feels. To wash away the blood spilled, that is the role of the Vongola Rain Guardian. His crossroad isn’t an issue to him, because that’s not what he fights for! He fights to make things easier for everyone, so they may remember happiness. That sort of thing doesn’t exactly need him to make a choice on his path. Now, does it? If he’s forced to choose, he will just carve out new possibilities for himself and the ones that he loves with the lessons he’s learnt. 

Lambo Bovino: Green Envy Zinnia

Contrary to the title, the green envy zinnia has nothing to do with envy. Quite the opposite, actually. The zinnia itself represents endurance (HEAR. ME. OUT LOL), lasting affection, joy, and various other things. So, the zinnia is super fucking tough, again hear me OUTTTT. They bloom all the way from springtime to autumn, something pretty unheard of from flowers which gave them their meaning. A green envy Zinnia specifically represents growth or a journey. Wishes of a healthy and successful growth. And I believe that is the hope for Lambo, as he progresses through the series. He is quite literally a child, both himself and TYL. But that’s just the thing for him, to the one that chose the guardians (Iemitsu, it’s very implied that it was Iemitsu), Lambo is an INVESTMENT. And a correct one if twenty years old Lambo was anything to go by. Not only that, the zinnia represents a joyous endurance. This doesn’t have to be painful for him, and it’s not as he’s allowed to both be a kid in Tsuna’s care while also holding on tight when told to stay out of the fight. (“You have to take the younger me wherever you go, he wants to go with you.”). And as a bit of an angsty little hehe on my part, the zinnia also represents missing those who have passed, that you remember someone and love them even now that they’re not with you. (“Seeing you all again, I thought the day would never happen. It’s making me emotional.”) Honestly, judging by how Lambo fights when he gets the opportunity to properly do it, he just isn’t weak. Destroying Kikyo’s box animal, fighting against Ooyama, and of course against Levi too. In Hanakotoba, the Zinnia represents loyalty. He is their youngest blossom, enjoying being around the one he considers a brother with hidden potentials to grow into someone with the ability to be Vongola’s shield. If the ones he loves ever make it to see that sight, of course. 

Ryohei Sasagawa: Yarrow (Achillea millefolium) 

Okay, so the yarrow is first of all a funky flower. If you’ve never seen OTHER colors of the yarrow flower, I implore you to google it. Especially the red ones? Why are you so pretty? Lucky enough for this flower (and me I’m starting to lose my mind here, this was a much bigger task than I thought it would be) the different colors don’t change the meaning of the flower here which is neat. It also unfortunately has no hanakotoba meaning either. So, anyway. The yarrow. It represents a warrior’s bravery, protection, and healing. The healing comes from the fact that its a commonly used herb for bruises, cuts, and sprains. There’s also huge folklore around it which affects its scientific name, as Achilles used yarrow to take care of the men he was in charge of. This flower was also used as a ward against evil, where people would hang this outside of their homes in order to protect them from evil getting inside. A superstition developed around this leading to Yarrow to be named the devil’s nettle to refer to the belief that the devil would come around and shake the yarrow that people hung up due to wanting to curse them. This flower also represents strong everlasting love, to the point where a little tradition propped up where people would shove this flower up their nostrils whenever they had a nosebleed so if they dreamt about their crush it meant that they liked them back lol. Yall there was so much rich lore on this flower, it’s super neat. More than I could fit in here. Anyway, I’m sure yall see the connection with Ryohei acting as the group older brother, being the motivating factor for them. He was the first to go up during Varia arc and set the tone for the rest of the battles, that the Vongola would win. Last to show up during future, representing that all of them had finally been reunited. A draw against Aoba, again the very first battle, almost symbolizing HOW shimon would end. He’s the strength in their arms, acting as the last person to leave in future arc until they were ready to go. Taught them and helped lead them to make decisions during that arc. It’s almost his duty to protect the younger ones, even getting up on Hibari’s case in the fillers for not helping out his younger classmen. We can’t even dismiss the way he would prefer to shield Kyoko from everything that they go through, and getting aggressive with Tsuna when Tsuna broke something he thought both of them saw eye to eye on.  Not much rattles him, honestly if you pay attention to his scenes, only getting the most nervous and agitated TRULY when he fears he won’t be able to protect someone (Asking Tsuna how Kyoko reacted to the news, Tozaru getting on his case about Lambo coming to the battle) Otherwise, he’s his happy loud confident self ready to tackle on anything for the sake of the family. Destroying the misfortune that attacks the family with their own body, the yarrow represents that duty well. For every bruise the younger one gets, Ryohei has the ability to heal it. For every fear, Ryohei tackles it first. Acting as a ward and protector for his family. Hibari Kyoya

Clematis (Etoile Violette)

Clematis is a climbing flower, to start with. One of those flowers that grow along walls and vines. It’s a very adaptable flower, able to work with various environments and thrive amongst them. They’re known as the traveler’s joy, meant to wish travelers good luck and act as protection to those who pass by them. While also having a more negative reputation, having “killed” other plants by outcompeting them considered having done the devil’s work. (The plant is actually considered invasive aha oops) The clematis though, itself represents mental fortitude, cleverness, and the ability to find hope in perilous situations. Hibari himself, I mean just that back and forth reputation is just him, no? Acting as Namimori’s protector, keeping a watchful eye on the town while also being utterly terrifying for Namimori students and almost overwhelming to those competing with him. (Dino will only find escape from Hibari in death, Mukuro is the same) But, he is also undoubtedly Vongola’s wall. Similar to Ryohei, not once throughout the series really and truly faltering. The clematis itself with its representation in mental fortitude can be given to someone when they need mental strength. I think the best way to represent this is directing you to that moment in Shimon arc when Tsuna, while not physical beaten, had been mentally tormented by everything that had happened and Hibari came to his battle to Adel. A simple, but strong “Little animal, your face right now is dull. Watch my fight.” It’s in that fight Tsuna gets his mental strength back, being given a hint to answer the question he’s been stressing and faltering over. Then there’s future arc, having been the only one TYL Tsuna trusted with the plan. Kokuyo Arc, Gokudera seeing an already defeated Hibari and taking him to the battle. Varia arc, the gang realizing that if Hibari is fighting next then they may have already won it and refusing to succumb to the poison in the sky battle. Rainbow arc, Tsuna considering them in that list of people he “just expects to help him.” He has the ability to be their hope, to be another factor of their strength. Where Ryohei is holding them up on the physical aspect, Hibari is absolutely their mental strength. (Isn’t it charming that the two eldest are the pillars of their group? I think it is). Also, in Hanakotoba, the clematis represents moral beauty and order. And that’s just the kinda man who could run something like the discipline committee, isn’t? The special thing, finally is that the etoile violette represents a sense of freedom from troubles. A free man, unchained himself and choosing to help those younger than him. Sometimes for the thrill of a battle, sometimes to actually help them with the reputation of a devil. Unpredictable, but still trusted.  It’s the sky that allows the clouds to roam freely, but even someday that sky will be beaten to death. 

Chrome Dokuro

Lupine (Blue Bonnet)

The Lupine flower is before anything else, a second chance at life. A recovery from one’s trauma and the admiration that comes from that. Its gratitude and kindness put into one. There’s a legend around the lupine flower about a land full of drought where Native Americans had believed would be saved by selflessness and yet no one had come forward to do anything, until a young girl came forward and offered the last of her possessions. The rain came to fall at her sacrifice, and hundreds of lupines had blossomed from the ground saving the tribe from drought and hunger as the seeds of the Lupine could be harvested to be eaten. The Lupine represents that the world will always give back if you are willing to help. Chrome, from her introduction, is told to be a girl who has nothing. With two parents who want nothing to do with her and no friends by her side. She runs forward to save a kitten and is gravely injured. With neither of her parents willing to help her, Chrome wonders if she is going to die here but is offered a deal by Mukuro. It’s here that Chrome is offered her second chance and she spends the whole series trying to return the favor to Mukuro. All while healing from her own trauma, the type of trauma that “no one could care about her”, as she is offered food and bonds from Tsuna, Kyoko, Haru, I-pin, Bianchi, Hibari, and so many others. It's in her second chance that she gets to experience what life truly had to offer her, as thank you for her continued selflessness. It’s that gratitude that she represents and the never-ending desire to give when she doesn’t accept Mukuro’s assistance anymore with her organs because she can no longer give him anything now that he’s out of Vindice Prison. She resolves that she will become someone who can protect the people she and Mukuro like. Her confidence isn’t perfect and she falters quite a bit, not believing that her powers are as great as those around her. But, that’s okay, because her goodness has brought her to people who have got her back until she can figure herself out. She has Mammon to correct her when her illusions are seen through that they are well made, but she’s just dealing with professionals and that’s why they’re seen through. There’s Tsuna who relies on her blindly, never doubting her strength to protect them as he asks her to act as defense during Shimon arc and protect Enma from his attack. Alongside with Fran, she is trusted to protect Yamamoto and Gokudera in the final battle against Vindice and taken with Tsuna against Jaegar. She has a lot of space to continue growing, but Lupin also represents voracity and happiness in Hanakotoba. She has her second chance to learn all about that, or as Mukuro put it to her, “An ending is merely the beginning of another cycle.”

Rokudo Mukuro

Aconitum (Wolfsbane)

Wolfsbane is also referred to as Monkshood. This is another one with pretty rich lore with its connection to werewolves. It’s referred to as “queens of the poisons” and has a pretty negative message to it on the outside. First of all, this thing’s poison? TOUGH AS HELL. Delirium, frothing at the mouth, vision impairment, and of course the classic coma<3 It’s got an uncanny resemblance to what rabies actually looks like. Fun, right? Okay, fr though onto its meaning. Wolfsbane is an omen that danger is nearby, not unlike the unnerving feeling Tsuna gets whenever he senses Mukuro nearby. Said to have come from Hell itself, the saliva that has dripped down from Cerberus himself. Not unlike our sweet boy. But, being an omen does not always represent something bad. Is he bringing the danger to you, or is he warning you of the true danger that lies past him? It’s a little bit of both. Aconitum represents concealed wisdom and caution in decision-making. But it also DOES represent protection, a proper and true warning of the dangers of the wild. That beauty does not always mean safe. For his twisted sense of vengeance and believing that taking over the world is the only way to destroy it for the sake of what was done to him, he isn’t necessarily wrong for being enraged about what happened to him. Yet, despite his hate, he doesn’t drag those who he cares about further down into it than he has to. He sends Ken and Chikusa away when they are going to get caught, he never uses Chrome for anything besides as a vessel to help her, and he says during Rainbow arc that if he forced Fran to continue past his limits he’d be no better than those nasty adults of his past. Aconitum balances sweetly between light and darkness, similar to Mukuro. He won’t admit it, but he cares for those amongst the Vongola. He infiltrates the Millefiore and sends the Vongola information after Tsuna’s death, he helps Chrome form a barrier around Enma so he could be safe from Tsuna’s X-Burner. And, of course he teams up with Vongola’s team during the rainbow arc. These are undoubtedly kind actions,  but when Tsuna gets angry at Mukuro during Rainbow claiming that he didn’t believe that Mukuro was the type to abandon his allies, Mukuro says that that was just his idea of him. Even though it was Chrome ultimately rejecting him, he instead pretended that he really was some big bad heartless person. Definitely, Mukuro is no angel, but also he’s no demon either. He’s.. just a human at the end. The aconitum’s dance with both light and dark, a flower that tries to warn, can be read both good and bad depending on how you look at it. His rejection of his ‘official’ position as part of the Mafia, yet acting as the Vongola Mist Guardian when their goals align. He’s as confusing as the duty he embodies, but he succeeds nonetheless in ensuring the family is untouchable in his deceptions. After all, the best way to fool your enemies is to fool your allies first.

[violettduchess]

A/N: This is an entry for my and @lorei-writes Shapes of Love creation challenge. It was originally a spicy holiday prompt that I retooled a bit.

This fic's type of love: Eros with a touch of Mania

Gilbert x Reader

WC: ~1k

It is your first ball in Obsidian, the first ball since you made the decision to leave Rhodolite behind and remain here, at Gilbert’s side. Your nerves are tangled, electric under your skin. You want to make a good impression on those you know he works closely with. Or those he has a close eye on. You’re no longer a foreign guest but have been declared his consort, a position of considerable power. You hope tonight, at the winter ball, you will be able to earn the respect of those who may still be skeptical of the union.....well, secretly skeptical since you know Gilbert would have the head of anyone who dared even breathe a word against you.

You take a deep drink from your glass of chilled wine, reminding yourself that this is a celebration. It is Obsidian's final embrace of winter in all its beauty in the face of an encroaching spring. And you have done your best to dress for the occasion. Turning, you face the full-length iron-wrought mirror that leans against the wall of your dressing room. Your gown is a confection of black lace overlaying soft, shimmering silver. Black gloves, so fine they are almost transparent, stop just beyond your elbows and the smooth skin of your shoulders is bare. Black roses hang from your ears and your hair is pinned up by the pearlescent hair combs shaped like crescent moons that Gilbert gifted you the evening you told him you were staying. A wide, black silk ribbon is tied around your neck, hiding the dark blossoms left by his insistent mouth this morning. If anyone could see underneath the voluminous skirt of your beautiful dress, they would notice matching love-bites in almost symmetrical rings around your thighs and hips. 

You’re just smoothing down the bodice when the door to the room opens and Gilbert, a vision in black and gold, steps in, the crisp, chill scent of winter following him wherever he goes. And although many would think you insane, you find yourself smiling at his presence. “There you are.” You fuss a moment with one of your hair clips, adjusting it ever so slightly. “I hope you like the dress? I know the tailor made it according to your design and I think she did an excellent job. But I know you’re very particular….”

You glance at him through the mirror and your words wither and die, dropping like fallen petals. It takes you a moment to recover, your voice and breath robbed by what you see. He has not said a word. He has not moved a centimeter since entering. His leather-gloved hand is still wrapped around the golden handle of the closed door. But there is hunger clearly etched into every line of his tensed body. It flickers in the deep red of his eye, a flame born the moment he entered. Slowly, oh so slowly, he lets go of the door handle and crosses the brocade carpeting towards you.

……why is your heart fluttering so recklessly in your chest, a butterfly trapped under crystal glass, erratic and beautiful and wild….

He comes to a stop behind you, staring into the mirror at your reflection. His gloved hands slide up your bare arms, up until they rest on your shoulders. There is possession in his tight grip, something dancing the border of discomfort as he drinks in the sight of you, held in place by the press of his fingers.

“Oh Häschen….this won’t do.” One hand slides up higher still, his fingers curling around the sensitive nape of your neck. His head tilts to one side, regarding the reversed image of you both in the glass. “You can’t go out there, like this.” He lowers his head, catching the tip of your ear with his sharp, white teeth before whispering. “This sight is for me and me alone.” His voice drips with dominion, rasps with barely-reined in restraint. Your chest rises and falls with every shallow breath, pressing against the black lace of your gown's sweetheart neckline. 

He watches you for a moment, drinking in the paradox of your body, so perfectly still in his grasp and yet beneath the surface, chaos. Your blood courses frantically through your veins, pumped by a heart gone wild, lungs gone turbulent. Leaning against your back, he reaches around, holding his hands in front of you and very slowly removes one soft black leather glove. You’re hypnotized by the revelation of each lithe finger.

“Maybe…..”, he murmurs, tossing the glove aside where it falls listlessly to the floor, “Yes…maybe like this….” And you feel the cool kiss of his fingers touch the ribbon at your neck. It comes undone, a snake unwinding. Gilbert wraps it around his wrist as he thoughtfully studies the marks he left upon your skin this morning, in the gray, predawn light of his bedroom. “Like this, you are marked as mine. Maybe it would not make a difference who lays eyes on you if this is the first thing they see.”

He truly sounds like a man puzzling out a problem. Your mouth goes dry at the thought of being so brazen in front of all of Obsidian’s nobility and important citizens. Heat blossoms in your body, rises to your cheeks as you realize the idea of showing the world how he claimed you…is not unpleasant.

He can see the way your skin flushes, the gleam in your eyes and his breath catches in his chest where something hard and hot is born. “No….”, he whispers savagely, his blazing eye holding your gaze as captive as his hands are your hips. “No one else gets this. You are not meant to be seen looking like this by anyone else.” He has solved his puzzle.

The world shifts as you are gathered into his arms, held by a strength fueled by desire, by infatuation, by greed. He carries you away from the door with its golden handle, deeper into the shadows of the dressing room, towards the black velvet chaise longue in the back corner where he lays you down, covers you with his long body, his mouth already hungrily claiming yours, swallowing any protests you may try to make about waiting guests and making appearances. 

Soon you won't have enough breath to even attempt forming words. All that you will be able to do is give in to the furious storm of his desire, bending like a reed under his voracious touch, his endless onslaught of exquisite, stinging kisses. 

The ball, the guests, your beautiful new gown soon to be pooled on the floor in a heap of black lace and silver….all willingly, wantonly, blissfully forgotten.

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @joiedecombat @ozalysss

[thislovintime]

Self-portrait by Peter Tork, 1986.

“Tork was interviewed by telephone from Chattanooga, Tenn., where the Monkees were performing. […] Acknowledging that there were some difficult times when ‘I had my own crises,’ after the original Monkee mania faded, Tork insisted, ‘I always believe things will work out. My happy-go-lucky attitude has kept me sane, or at least as sane as I can ever be.’ Which means that [he] has not changed in one major essential since we were students and drama club members at Wyndham High School in Connecticut.  Even then he was an entertainer; whether as part of the drama club or in the middle of an English class, he could always find an audience. Talking to him after so many years (the last time was after the closing night of a play) was slightly unreal, for the voice was adult and vaguely familiar but the mental image was that of an 18-year-old. Of course, after so many years we were strangers but not totally. There was not time to sort out reference points, and nostalgia is never what it is supposed to be anyway. Instead, it was two former classmates, widely separated by time, distance and profession, meeting for a moment. In the process, Tork referred to the downside of his career but never in negative terms, even when acknowledging he felt ‘I was going downhill and being more and more isolated.’ Instead, he said, ‘I find that great careers have a blossoming, a time when it is a big deal. Then there’s a fallow, followed by another blossoming when they come back to the original level and stay there. The other way is a great career that blossoms, then falls and dies.’ Comparing it all to ‘lightning in a bottle,’ Tork summarized it tightly: ‘Every place has a payoff and a price.’” - article by Mary Zielinski, The Gazette, October 31, 1986 (x)

[fakeoutbf]

so much for (tour)dust u.s. leg

magic 8 ball and piano medley songs sorted by date

color coded by album ● repeated songs in bold

tttyg ● futct ● ioh ● fad ● srar ● abap ● mania ● smfs

June 21 - Wrigley Field, Chicago, IL

Piano medley

- Lake Shore Drive (Aliotta Haynes Jeremiah cover)

Magic 8 Ball song

- G.I.N.A.S.F.S. (Live Debut) (Alias: GOLF)

June 23 - Hollywood Casino Amphitheatre, Maryland Heights, MO

Piano medley

- What a Time to Be Alive (Live Debut)

Magic 8 Ball song

- Of All the Gin Joints in All the World (First time live since 2008) (Alias: GAMMA JULIET)

June 24 - Azura Amphitheater, Bonner Springs, KS

Piano medley

- I'm Like a Lawyer With the Way I'm Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You) (First time live since 2014)

Magic 8 Ball song

- Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year (First time live since 2014) (Alias: OCHO)

June 27 - Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion, The Woodlands, TX

Piano medley

- Somebody to Love (Queen cover)

- Take On Me (Aha cover)

Magic 8 Ball song

- The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years) (Live Debut) (Alias: TANGO YETI)

June 28 - Dos Equis Pavilion, Dallas, TX

Piano medley

- What a Catch, Donnie (First time live since 2013)

Magic 8 Ball song

- The (After) Life of the Party (First time live since 2007) (Alias: SIERRA ALPHA)

June 30 - Talking Stick Resort Amphitheatre, AZ

Piano medley

- Spotlight (Oh Nostalgia) (Patrick Slump song, first time live since 2011)

Magic 8 Ball song

- Homesick at Space Camp (First time live since 2013)

July 1 - North Island Credit Union Amphitheatre, Chula Vista, CA

Piano medley

- Nothing Compares 2 U (Prince cover)

Magic 8 Ball song

- (Coffee’s For Closers) (First time live since 2009)

July 2 - BMO Stadium, Los Angeles, CA

Piano medley

- Mr. Blue Sky (Electric Light Orchestra cover)

- Golden (First time live since 2007)

Magic 8 Ball songs

- G.I.N.A.S.F.S.

- America’s Suitehearts (First time live since 2009) (Alias: ASS)

July 3 - BMO Stadium, Los Angeles, CA

Piano medley

- Every Breath You Take (The Police cover)

- I’ve Got All This Ringing In My Ears and None On My Fingers (Live Debut)

Magic 8 Ball songs

- The (After) Life of the Party

- Bang the Doldrums (Live Debut) (Alias: YANKEE HOTEL HOTEL)

July 5 - Shoreline Amphitheatre, Mountain View, CA

Piano medley

- Alison (Elvis Costello cover)

- What a Catch, Donnie

Magic 8 Ball song

- The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes (First time live since 2013) (Alias: PATRIZZY S)

July 7 - USANA Amphitheatre, West Valley City, UT

Piano medley

- What a Time to Be Alive

- Hold the Line (Toto cover)

Magic 8 Ball song

- The Kids Aren’t Alright (First time live since 2018) (Alias: KILO)

July 9 - Fiddler's Green Amphitheatre, Greenwood Village, CO

Piano/acoustic medley

- Goin’ North (David Stump cover)

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball song

- Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner (First time live since 2014)

July 11 - Walmart AMP, Rogers, AR

Piano medley

- (What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding (Brinsley Schwarz cover)

- What a Catch, Donnie

Magic 8 Ball song

- I Slept With Someone in Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me (First time live since 2015)

July 13 - Somerset Amphitheater, Somerset, WI (shortened show due to weather)

Magic 8 Ball song

- Fame < Infamy (Live Debut) (Alias: BRAVO WHISKEY PAPA)

July 15 - Riverbend Music Center, Cincinnati, OH

Piano medley

- What a Catch, Donnie

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball song

- Favorite Record (Live Debut)

July 16 - Ruoff Music Center, Noblesville, IN

Piano medley

- What a Time to Be Alive

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball song

- Where Did the Party Go (First time live since 2014) (Alias: WHISKEY PAPA)

July 18 - Blossom Music Center, Cuyahoga Falls, OH

Piano medley

- Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen cover)

- I'm Like a Lawyer With the Way I'm Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You)

Magic 8 Ball song

- 27 (Live Debut) (Alias: TANGO SIERRA)

July 19 - Jiffy Lube Live, Bristow, VA

Piano/acoustic medley

- Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner (full song)

Magic 8 ball

- She’s My Winona (First time live since 2009) (Alias: BEETLE JUICE)

July 21 - PNC Music Pavilion, Charlotte, NC

Piano medley

- Lean on me (Bill Withers cover)

- What a Catch

Magic 8 Ball song

- Dead on Arrival (First time live since 2013) (Alias: DELTA OMEGA ALPHA)

June 21 - Veterans United Home Loans Amphitheater at Virginia Beach, Virginia Beach, VA

Piano medley

- What a Time to Be Alive

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball song

- 7 Minutes in Heaven (Atavan Halen) (Patrick on drums, First time live since 2007) (Alias: WOLFGANG)

July 24 - iTHINK Financial Amphitheatre, West Palm Beach, FL

Piano medley

- Dancing Queen (ABBA cover)

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball song

- Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today (First time live since 2013) (Alias: GATOR BITES)

July 25 - MidFlorida Credit Union Amphitheatre, Tampa, FL

Piano medley

- What a Catch, Donnie

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball song

- Miss Missing You (First time live since 2015)

July 26 - Cellairis Amphitheatre at Lakewood, Atlanta, GA

Piano medley

- Nothing Compares 2 U (Prince cover)

- I’ve Got All This Ringing In My Ears and None On My Fingers

Magic 8 Ball song

- From Now On, We Are Enemies (Live Debut)

July 29 - Pine Knob Music Theatre, Clarkston, MI

Piano medley

- What a Time to Be Alive

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball song

- Don’t You Know Who I Think I Am? (First time live since 2007)

July 30 - Budweiser Stage, Toronto, ON, Canada

Piano medley

- What a Time to Be Alive

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball songs

- West Coast Smoker (Live Debut)

- G.I.N.A.S.F.S.

August 1 - Forest Hills Stadium, Queens, NY

Piano medley

- What a Catch, Donnie

- Just One Yesterday (First time live since 2014)

- Stereo Hearts (with Travie McCoy)

- Cupid’s Chokehold (with Travie McCoy)

Magic 8 Ball song

- I Am My Own Muse (Live Debut)

- 27

August 2 - Fenway Park, Boston, MA

Piano medley

- W.A.M.S. (Live Debut)

- Sweet Caroline (Neil Diamond cover)

Magic 8 Ball songs

- XO (First time live since 2007)

- G.I.N.A.S.F.S.

August 4 - Darien Lake Performing Arts Center, Darien Center, NY

Piano/acoustic medley

- Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part to Save the Scene and Stop Going to Shows) (First time live since 2006)

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball songs

- You’re Crashing but You’re No Wave (Live Debut)

- 27

August 5 - PNC Bank Arts Center, Holmdel, NJ

Piano medley

- I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song) (Live Debut)

- What a Catch, Donnie

Magic 8 Ball songs

- Bob Dylan (Live Debut)

- I Am My Own Muse

August 6 - Freedom Mortgage Pavilion, Camden, NJ

Piano medley

- Jet Pack Blues (First time live since 2018)

- I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song)

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball songs

- Pavlove (Live Debut) (Alias: KEVIN BACON)

- 27 (Alias: ONLY THE GOOD)

- G.I.N.A.S.F.S. (Alias: ACRONYM)

[star-stages]

Another fun game! Assign your fave moots a sonic song or lyric that reminds you of them 🎶💙

I'm gonna do songs ✨🎵🎶🎸🎹🎼🎧

@passionartx - Endless Possibility✨

@000marie198 -Reach for the Stars! 🌌

@kittydoremi -My Destiny- Theme of Elise 🍎

@taffydragonart -Unleashed Boss Battle! Night Theme 🌙

@siggiedraws -His World 🦔

@lazorbeanz -the drowning music- I'm joking! I assign you- Find your Flame 🔥

@skimmingthesurfaces -Chemical Plant Zone! 🧪

@chelsiegeorgia -Knight of the Wind 🍃

@nortedwayfinder -One Way Dream 🌈

@niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian -Lights, Camera, Action! 🎥

@colorfulartsynerd -Press Garden Zone - Blossom Haze 🌸

@greenyvertekins - Quartz Quadrant -Past 🌳

@shannonallaround -I'm With You 🎶

@axolotini -Sonic Mania Opening- Friends 🎈

@mbrine -Sonic Mania Mirage Saloon Zone Skyway Octane ☀️

@sparkles-rule-4eva - Lava Reef Zone 🪸

@melangeknottings -Wacky Workbench- Good Future 🌻

[softichill]

The Sound of Nightmares unofficial transcript

(Sadly @queen0fm0nsterz wasn't able to work on this one, but is still important to credit bc I say so)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

-------------

[Click]

[Thunderstorm in the background]

OTTO: The guardian at the threshold. An archetype that parapsychologists have obsessed over for centuries. A mythic entity who’s appeared in the stories of innumerable cultures. No matter their description, his role is always the same: to confront anyone who dares cross into unseen worlds. 

OTTO: In our last session, he spoke to her, or– through her. Even when I listen to the tape I can’t be certain what I’m hearing. Still, I’ve repeated his words like a sickness ever since. It went like this. 

[Shifting]

OTTO: “Cross the sill. Sink in a twinkling. Cast aside the old sleep, to sleep again anew.”

[Otto puts the paper down]

OTTO: The Candleman, the Ferryman– indeed, the Guardian at the Threshold. An idolon on the inside, determined to [Hitting the table] Keep. Me. Out. 

[Tape rewinding]

[Intro plays]

[Click]

[Shifting, electric humming, Otto putting something together]

OTTO: Noone was right after all. [Slow beeping starts] I noticed something off, while reviewing the E.E.G, and reluctantly, sent her up to radiology. At first I doubted the validity of the results, but the technician assured- curtly- that Noone’s scan undeniably shows… a pea-sized tumor, on the right-sided amygdala. 

[clatter, humming continues]

OTTO: They maintain it’s benign, [click, more humming] despite the unusual ocular appearance. 

[repeated clicking, Otto keeps building]

OTTO: This calls everything into question. The mass’s location could impact fear response, emotional salience, and damningly, dreams. And yet… I cannot deny all the evidence to the contrary. 

[Lower click, Otto stops building]

OTTO: I’ve… pondered the ethics of informing Noone. She’s already so scared of her body that it would only send her spiraling. I can’t risk anything jeopardizing a revelation that might lead to Cici. 

[Shift]

OTTO: From here on, anyone listening will think me mad. But, the proof is in the pudding! Noone’s… vanishings; her transpersonal states; they’re undeniable evidence of a realm- beyond our senses. It’s always been on the periphery, but now I know… it’s accessible. And she possesses the means to enter that domain. 

[Papers rustling on the desk]

OTTO: My professor’s paper posits thus: “There are two requisites for entering the quiddity of consciousness. First, a gateway; places hidden amid our world. Second, a means to open these doors. And I assert that keys are primarily cut out of fear.”

[Otto places the paper down and lifts the device he was building. Humming becomes more clear, Otto sighs.]

OTTO: Either I lack his erudition, or his mania. My only hope lies in completing my labours. [Sigh, shifting on desk] I’ve not slept in weeks, [another sigh] and if I cannot dream as she does, I’ll never know how to enter- this… Nowhere. 

[Click, audio cuts]

[Audio starts]

[Thunder in the background]

OTTO: [in the background] An ugly autumn night, isn’t it Noone? Swirling mist, they called it on the broadcast. A weather phenomenon unique to the Counties- a downpour’s not far off. But- a gift, may brighten the mood. 

[Otto gets closer to the recorder]

OTTO: Here. 

[Otto slides something over to Noone]

NOONE: O-oh. It’s nearly the same. Red, too. 

OTTO: A chrysanthemum, like your parents left you all those weeks ago! An apology, a- a reminder that I remain as committed to you as I did then. 

NOONE: Pretty. 

OTTO: It’s a perennial, so it’ll blossom year after year, just like you!

[Shifting as they both sit down]

NOONE: I think, I’m ready now. To talk about… m-my Mum and Dad. 

OTTO: (surprised) Oh. And why now? What’s changed?

NOONE: Because… I feel like I’m beginning to forget. And maybe talking will help me remember. 

OTTO: Because you’ve been away so long, or you literally feel you’re losing your memory?

NOONE: Um… more like I’m losing a part of me. I can’t tell, am I the girl here, or- the one there?

OTTO: (slightly amused) They’re one in the same. Given all you’ve told me, they must be. It’s not you that’s different, but the physical space around that y-

NOONE: I said I want to talk about my mum and dad! When most kids have nightmares, or- whatever these are, they go to their parents to feel better. Here, I relive them again and again. And it’s all you want to talk about, because you think you can find Cici! Through me!

OTTO: Noone. The only way to find answers is to discover where you go when you sleep. Talking about your parents would be wasting the hours!

NOONE: Aren’t these sessions supposed to be about me?! 

OTTO: Always. 

NOONE: But I have no say. No control. Over how I feel, or- what I do, I don’t even belong to myself!

[Pause]

NOONE: I’ll do as you ask, but promise me. (Quiet) No wires hooked into my head. No machines. Not tonight. 

OTTO: No machines, promise. [Getting up] I think you’ll enjoy what I’ve got planned. 

[Audio cuts]

[Door opens]

OTTO: This bed was for shiftwork*. Now I sleep here more days than not. 

NOONE: Oh. Pretty. 

[Door closes] 

[Steps on carpet, recorder set down]

OTTO: I’d like to try a sort of role-reversal. [Creak] I’ll lie here, blindfolded, depriving my senses, to enter a self-induced hypnogogia, so I can focus on your words. You’ll recount your latest visit, and I want you to try as hard as you can, to project your dream into my head. 

NOONE: I don’t think it can work, but… I’ll try. 

[Creak, shifting as Otto lays down]

NOONE: That girl. In the photo there. That’s her, your daughter. 

OTTO: My sister. 

NOONE: O-Oh. You don’t look much alike. 

[Otto getting prepared]

OTTO: [Exhale] I’m- I-I’m settled. Blindfold on… Carry me away with you, Noone. 

NOONE, narrating: …I couldn’t see anything-

OTTO: S-Slow down. This is vital. Speak, as if you’re trying to pull me in. 

NOONE: …

NOONE, narrating: I floated through a darkness, with nothing at my feet. Then it all faded and, I was somewhere new. 

NOONE: An underground brick tunnel, with a stream of… thick sludge passing through a canal at its center. 

NOONE: I can still hear it. Jangling keys. [Dream ambience starts] Screaking metal. Do you hear, Otto?

OTTO: I… I can’t. But keep trying. 

NOONE: It came from… a kid in the distance, struggling to shut a ground-iron door. The last thing I heard before the slamming shut was… laughter. [Echoey laughter, faint slam] 

[Running water]

NOONE: Sludge poured in from the pipes that ran along the tunnel walls. I had no choice but to follow the stream and, so I did until I reached a section [Distant kids chatting] where I saw storm drains above. 

[Dripping water, kids sound more intense] 

NOONE: Looking up through one, I saw a boy’s dirty boots, and orange light shining, from a lantern on his waist. We locked eyes and he called out,

BOY, overlapping with NOONE: “Look! Critters already!”

[Children laughing]

NOONE: Lights then shone down from… every drain above. Other boys and girls wanting to peek at me. 

[Children laughing, Dream!Noone quietly starting to breathe hard]

NOONE: Very suddenly, [laughter dies down] they went quiet. [Kids start whispering] I didn’t know why, until… I heard it. A rumbling through the tunnels. 

[Kids whisper things like “It’s here!” “It’s finally here!”]

NOONE: They whispered together. “It’s here! Finally here!” 

[Whispering dies down, rumbling]

NOONE: Do you feel what I felt, Otto?

OTTO: They’d… been waiting. For you. 

NOONE: …Not exactly. Their joy, their bratty excitement… they’d- gathered for an event, and it had finally come. Like a holiday, that only arrives once per year. 

NOONE: Running from their celebration, I turned down a tunnel, [wet footsteps] going until, I came to a junction. Overwhelmed by how many options surrounded me, I closed my eyes. Listening. 

[Running water, squeaky metal detector sounds] 

NOONE: The sound… came from the path to my left. [Faint electronic buzzing] I waited, watching from a distance, as someone crossed [squeaking] by the dark tunnel mouth. 

NOONE: He carried… a strange gadget. And every now and again, its buzz, turned to some- beeping. Detecting secrets, in the waters. 

[Metal detector squeaking]

NOONE: I hardly noticed the rest of him. But, I got a look before he crossed out of view. He carried a heavy sack, over his shoulder. And things squirmed inside. But, he was gone as quick as he’d appeared!

[Metal detector gets quieter, Dream!Noone’s wet steps]

NOONE: The sludge was… rising quickly [Dream!Noone: Ugh!], up to my ankles, and- the stink became so awful, Otto! I-Imagine it, waste filling your nose. 

[Wet steps continue]

NOONE: Then, across from me, a small pipe became blocked, stopping the sewage. A grey mass poked through [Nome chittering], jammed in tight, wiggling to get loose. But… not until it fell into the sludge [plop], did I realize this… tiny… [chittering] thing… was alive! It picked itself up and- swayed about, curious of my company. 

[Wet steps combined with Nome sounds. Nome makes noises through the next paragraph]

NOONE: The head was… was shaped like- those cone mushrooms, that grow out in Haitfield**. I inched closer to the little mushroom fairy, and… it began mimicking me! As if we’d been old friends!

OTTO: (distant) A friendly presence… the first non-hostile being you’ve met that wasn’t another child. 

NOONE: Yes! He belonged there. In that world. Part of it rather than… a stranger, like me. 

NOONE: Is… is it working, Otto? Can you see its little mushroom head?

OTTO: I think so. Maybe. Keep going. 

NOONE: [mimicking a deep voice] Yes. Drift away, Otto. Drift away… 

[Wet steps, Nome noises]

NOONE: A crooked net lowered down from a drain grate above. While I ducked to cover, the mushroom fairy didn’t. I tried to point upward but, it simply copied my gesture! There was a girl [little girl giggling] giggling with- ugly delight, sticking her whole arm through the grate, hoping to capture the poor thing! So I grabbed a loose brick, [lifting brick] and threw it at her! [Dream!Noone: Hup!]

NOONE: Hitting her arm [girl wailing] she cried out, while I picked up the mushroom fairy, [running through sludge] and ran off.

[Dream!Noone panting, running]

NOONE: After we were well clear, I put the creature down. [Nome chatters] It immediately walked off! Then, looked back, suggesting I follow. 

NOONE: [walking] That little body clicked, jittery and… ungraceful. Somehow the thing seemed to know where it was taking me, stopping only once we came to a rusty door [metal creaking], leading to a maintenance room. 

NOONE: Entering though, I discovered something else entirely. [Squeaky door opening, Dream!Noone gasps and whispers “Wow”] Endless piles spread about the room, some of pure junk while… others housed gold jewelry! As long as it could be collected, there was a place for it here. [Dream!Noone walking through the room] Mesmerizing. 

[Walking]

NOONE: Only after examining a mound of keys [key jingling] did I understand, where this stuff came from. Everything in this room, had been dropped down from the world above over the years. [Nome noise(?)] The only thing out of place, was a child’s propeller cap. On a chair, tucked away, forgotten. [Nome chitter] I think that’s what the mushroom fairy wanted me to see. 

NOONE: [Nome perks up] As if on cue, I heard the man approaching; the little creature hid in a pile of mismatched mittens, and I jammed my way in too. [Running, fabric shuffling, metal door opens and electric buzz + squeaking starts] 

NOONE: I peered out, as he stepped through the door and began dumping out his… pockets. [Faint clattering of various things] Coins, rings, trinkets… [Clattering stops] Next, he took off his plastic suit, covered in- gunk. Beneath, was a bony body, his spine bent horribly. What I thought had been a sack carried over his shoulder… was the back of his head. Like a balloon full of water, throbbing and- swollen. 

NOONE: But I could tell he was not always that way. He’d changed. Somehow become one… with the sewers. 

OTTO: (more distant) I don’t understand. You believe this place transformed him?

NOONE: Aren’t you meant to be drifting into hypergocklia, or whatever? Seeing, smelling, hearing as I did?

OTTO: I can’t seem… to let go. I want to, more than anything I-

NOONE: [Imitating Otto] Try! That’s what you always tell me. If I’m trying my hardest, you have to as well. 

NOONE, narrating: From the corner of my eye, I noticed the little cone sneaking away. The balloon-headed man was inches away, and in that moment, I thought of Jester. Of the Child with Gooey Hair. Of Rusty. I couldn’t do nothing, not again!

NOONE: Thankfully, [rumbling, clattering] that rumbling from earlier returned in that moment, stronger than before!

[Sewer Man notices and panics] 

NOONE: The shaking destroyed the man’s piles, startling him into… an odd anger, so… I stumbled out from hiding, [Running] and bolted for my mushroom fairy, [Nome] and out the door! [Metal creak, Sewer Man notices] 

NOONE: I ran and ran, and, [Dream!Noone running and panting] although the man, he wasn’t very fast, that didn’t matter. [Buzzing & squeaking] He had his gadget, and, that buzz followed wherever I went!

[Dream!Noone wading through water]

NOONE: Any sense of direction washed away with- the sludge that was now up to my knees! [Dream!Noone running & panting] Turning down tunnel after tunnel, I stopped, [ambience calms down, squeaking] hoping I’d lost him. 

NOONE: All at once, those lanterns shone from above [clicks]. The naughty kids had spotted us! [Kids start singing a teasing song] Wildly they sang, “Snatch a gift! Snatch a gift! Before they’re all sent adrift!” 

[Kids continue singing and start clapping along, ambience picks up]

NOONE: Their cheers grew and, [squeak, Dream!Noone gasps] and I saw why. [Electric buzzing] A bag-headed shadow appeared at the tunnel’s far end. Cutting me off. The man and his machine used the tunnels as if- as if the sewers had leaked into his thoughts!

[Dream!Noone breathing hard, splashing water]

NOONE: I tried to backtrack, but, must have taken a wrong turn, and found myself at a dead end. A wall of bricks! [Nome struggles] The mushroom fairy squirmed hard, begging to be freed! So… [plop] I let go, and the grey cone climbed up a pile of fallen rubble, and slipped through a crack, without hesitation, to abandon me! (Sad) Despite saving its life. 

[Water leaking]

NOONE: The crack the fairy squeezed through began spouting water from the other side. [Squeaking and buzzing start up again] I pulled at the bricks as the man stepped closer [Sewer Man gets closer, bricks shifting], one brick loose, then another. His gadget buzzed and buzzed, when I ripped a final brick loose, [Sewer Man sees Noone] leaving a hole large enough to creep through. 

[Sewer Man yells and hits the wall, buzzing and squeaking get farther away]

NOONE: He bated at the wall, grabbing at me, but, I was too far gone. His small, milky eye peeked through at me, until the walls rumbled, more fiercely than ever! The man backed away, overcome with horror. 

[Sewer Man yells, echoey kids’ cheers in the background] 

NOONE: The rumbling didn’t stop after that. And neither did the kids cheering from above. [Ambience rising] Whatever they had waited for… 

[All ambience stops]

NOONE: It was time. 

[Wind/thunder in the background, back in the office]

NOONE: Otto, you’re awake! [Otto startles]

OTTO: Yes, Noone. I’m trying, so hard, to see, to feel- to sense what you did, but I can’t. I don’t have the gift you have, and your gifts are not as commanding as I hoped they’d-

NOONE: (Upset/frustrated) I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat! I wish I could give you everything in my head, then I’d be rid of all of this. 

[pause]

NOONE: Shall I go on?

OTTO: Yes. 

NOONE, narrating: …It felt as if someone had picked up the sewer, shaking it with rage. Water crashed against the walls. I stumbled on and on, the tunnel growing wider and wider… A second smaller sound appeared; [distant nome chitters] clicks, and murmurs. Then, [nomes getting louder] out of the darkness ahead, they appeared, [many nomes running] scurrying so fast I couldn’t react! A hundred little mushroom fairies, rushing past me in a panic, escaping something close behind!

[Distant kids teasing]

NOONE: It wasn’t long before that something came. [Rushing water, kids cheering] speeding like [Dream!Noone gasps] a pack of horses tangled together, a tidal wave pounded through the sewer!

[Dream!Noone yelps, wave approaches] 

NOONE: The wave was feet away when, [Wave is extremely close, ambience pauses minus the kids cheering] I finally understood. For the kids above, this was a blast. They waited and waited, unable to experience the wave’s power themselves, and that made them love it all the more. Snatching things that run from its path was part of their awful celebration. 

[Waves crashes down on Dream!Noone]

NOONE: The violent wave hit, sweeping me away, carrying me back through the maze of tunnels. I swam up and up, doing my best to surface, and just as I did,

[Splash, music suddenly calms. Dream!Noone gasping for air]

NOONE: The waves paused. My body no longer needed to swim. And the Candleman appeared, floating… on some kind of… broken door. 

OTTO: (distant, serious) Go through your encounter diligently. He holds the answers I- we need. Make no mistake: he is your tormentor. 

NOONE: (darkly) ‘m not sure that’s true. 

NOONE, narrating: This time, I was able to speak in his presence. 

Overlapping with Dream!Noone: “Why do you bring me here? What do you want?!”

NOONE: He replied,

FERRYMAN, ov. with NOONE: “Cross the sill. Sink in a twinkling. Cast aside the old sleep, to sleep again anew.”

NOONE: I yelled back (dream!Noone) “Why?! Why should I?!!” Before I finished he said,

FERRYMAN: “Blight. Not within, but without. Here, all banes be set free.”

OTTO: More riddles. He doesn’t think I can solve them, but I will-

NOONE: I already did. I think… he means by giving myself to his world, I won’t be ill any longer. That’s why… when I’m there, no more headaches. No more parasites. No more tests. 

OTTO: That’s not true, it’s not!

NOONE: [interrupting] I would almost prefer him to take me. 

OTTO: [Standing up] Don’t say that!

NOONE: Away from here. From yo–

OTTO: It’s what he wants!

NOONE: Maybe–

OTTO: He wants you!

NOONE: (yelling) Maybe your Cici felt that way too! Relieved! 

OTTO: [Angry shock, deep breaths] 

[Walking, door opens] 

OTTO: (whispering) No… (mumbling) I was only a boy…

[Wind picks up slightly in the background]

[Door creaks, click, audio cuts]

[Click, tape rewinding, click]

[Audio starts, storm continues in the background]

[Papers shifting. Door opens]

OTTO: We’re done tonight. Get out. To your room, go. 

[Papers rustling]

NOONE: (accusatory) What’s this?

OTTO: Nosing through my desk, were you?

NOONE: My name’s on it. It’s my scan, yes?

OTTO: Smart girl. 

NOONE: Wh… what does it tell?

OTTO: That you’ve got a mass. Growing on your brain- a tumor. 

NOONE: I knew it. The cure. …How bad is-

OTTO: A mass in your brain is never good. 

[Faint thunder]

NOONE: (about to cry) You should have told me. Why? Why didn’t you tell me?

OTTO: It’s not my practice to tell before necessary. Now, get. To. Bed. 

NOONE: …Fine. [Sniff]

[Storm continues]

NOONE, narrating: But after the Candleman spoke, the wave carried me by the maintenance room again. The Bag-Headed man looked through a window, terrified. He was– opposite to those kids above. Living down there, he– he’d no reason to celebrate the wave. Instead… he cherished what they dropped down by accident. 

NOONE: You see… each wanted what the other had. But could never have themselves. 

NOONE: I’m taking two sweets tonight. [Ceramic chime, wrappers]

OTTO: Take as many as you want and leave. 

[Ceramic click, audio cuts] 

[Audio starts]

[The storm is louder now]

OTTO: [Sigh]... 

OTTO: Perhaps I was cruel to tell her. But as she sleeps, I’ve been pondering the entry requisites specified by my professor. I believe he was only partly right. One need only to look at the theater of agony that the Ferryman’s created to understand fear, is an essential requirement. [threatening ambience starts] And I know better than anyone, a little fear can compel us towards discovery. 

OTTO: As for the gateway’s location, perhaps it’s not a place hidden in our world, but in our minds. Is it not possible that her tumor is somehow this unknown gateway? An organ of transcendence. 

OTTO: The apparatus may be unfinished, but its [unintelligible]*** monitor is functional. If she’s to cross over, in a “twinkling”, what choice do I have? In her words, you must try. 

[Click, audio cuts]

[Audio starts. A machine is running and Otto is typing something.]

OTTO: She hardly stirred at all while I pathed the BCI. 

[Beep, Otto stops typing. Something whirrs]

OTTO: All seems stable. As soon as her dreaming begins, the monitor should translate neurosignals into visualizations. 

NOONE: (half-asleep) Otto…

OTTO: Shhh, shsh…

NOONE: [Mumbling, starting to become distressed] 

OTTO: Shhh. Return to that sleep of yours. 

[Audio cuts]

[Audio starts. Machine is still going, storm is outside]

OTTO: It’s past midnight. She fought as long as she could, but finally succumbed. This is it. Show me, Noone. Show me the other side. 

[Noone mumbles, monitor turns on]

OTTO: Here we are. The image… a… kaleidoscope of black…

[Noone winces]

OTTO: An unnatural abyss…

[Noone winces repeatedly]

OTTO:  Wait- a shape. It’s difficult to see… [Noone] like looking through a negative mist. 

[Noone continues making noises of distress. Otto spots something]

OTTO: There! A silhouette! Ovular, splitting across the center– 

[Static rises and Otto yells in pain. Ambience is loud] 

OTTO: [Strained] It– it glares like the sun– [choking] No! A pupil! Near white! Oh god, it’s– it’s watching me! It’s watching me!

[Noone nearly yells in her sleep] 

[Whoosh, Otto yells, machine shuts off. Audio is muddled for a moment.]

OTTO: (very muffled) [Breathing heavily] Noone? [Gasp] Noone!

[Crashing, audio cuts]

[Outro plays] 

--------------

*I'm not super sure of what he says here since the door drowns him out

**I don't know how this is spelled

***According to text-to-speech, google, and autocorrect, what he says here is not a real word and I have no idea what it could be. All I know is that it ends in -graph.

[curlsandsnakes]

AU POLIN FANFIC

Courting Penelope Featherington

It’s raining the day he comes home.

Dark, moody weather that sets the tone wonderfully for the rather lackluster greeting he gets from his preoccupied siblings and absolutely rung dry mother. With two girls out in society, 1 pair of newly weds, 2 youngsters, and a Benedict, he can’t quite blame his mothers half hearted declarations and wandering eyes. He’s fully aware they’re happy to see him, Hyacinth even cries, but they all have their own dramas going on and have no time to entertain his stories of travel.

It doesn’t matter any, there really is only person he’s desperate to talk too, desperate to thrill with detailed accounts and sketched photographs.

It’s a shame Penelope Featherington wants absolutely nothing to do with him.

Eloise is the only sibling who never responded to a letter he sent. It’s clear she’s fully aware of the horrible things he’d spoken in a drunken haze nearly five months ago , and in true Eloise fashion she has no intention of betraying her best friend. She doesn’t even speak to him until he drops into the chaise beside her.

“Eloise. I missed you.”

Her bored expression never falters.

“Lovely to have you home, colin.” It’s so formal he nearly snorts at his rebellious little sister.

“I understand you are still displeased with me about my error last season.”

That does it.

“Error?! You call what you did an error?” Her body twists towards him and she fixes him with an outraged glare.

“Well yes, it’s was uncalled for and I…”

“Uncalled for?! I’ve never known you to be a fool but I find I do not know you at all. You nearly ruined her , Colin! She was wiped from the marriage market by your comments alone! If even her best friend couldn’t imagine being with her, why would anyone else? You have no idea what you accomplished!” Eloise pants, her face alarmingly red. “And then, when the damage was done you ran off to travel the world leaving Penelope to fix her reputation entirely on her own! And the audacity to write to her.”

Theres pain in his gut, crushing and turning everything in his stomach until he’s left nauseous and weak. What had he done? Was he truly that blind to see how fragile Pen was already? If anyone knew how desperately she wanted a husband, a family, it was him. And he had spoken so callously, degraded the one decent woman in the entirety of the ton.

“But you needn’t worry, penelope is no longer the Insipid wallflower you once knew. She has blossomed quite beautifully, I myself was astonished by her transformation.” Kate calls from her place at the head desk in the drawing room, a knowing sparkle in her eye.

“It’s true! She’s the prettiest one at all of the festivals.” Gregory is fussing with his gift while he speaks but makes sure to keep eye contact with Colin when he continues “and everyone says so.” It feels strangely like a warning from the 12 year old.

“Do we speak of Penelope?” Violet Bridgerton waltzes back into the room “I’ve heard from a reputable source that Lord Debling and Master Anderson both have plans to begin a courtship with our beautiful friend. I’m so intrigued to see who she will choose to marry.”

“Marry?!” His voice carry’s over the deafening crack of thunder “she can’t marry! She would need at-least a season of courting and this one’s nearly over. If they haven’t begun courting her yet, it would be wise to wait until next year to begin!” He feels hot, sweaty, his heart beating so fast it’s bound to give way to his mania any moment now.

“Not in Penelope’s case. This is her third season with no matches, she’s more than welcome to accept whomever she chooses at whatever time.” Violet is perched on Simons lap.

“I quite like Debling. I believe he would make a good addition to the family.” The duke tickles his wife’s ribs.

“As do I. We all get on quite well and since Penelope is essentially a sixth Bridgerton sister it will be nice to have someone we can all tolerate.” Anthony adds.

“She is not marrying Debling!” Colin’s voice is firm and slightly frantic, panic rising up the back of his neck. “She will not marry this season.”

“And who are you to decide what she does brother? Have you not done enough. Your opinion is inconsequential and it would do best for you to keep it to yourself, lest you scare any more suitors off.” Eloise has her hands on her hips and it’s almost intimidating enough for him to stop speaking but God himself could not save Colin Bridgerton now.

“There will be no more suitors and she will not be marrying any of these men!” He barks, firm and unmoving.

“Why do you keep saying that?!” Eloise shouts.

“Because she will marry me!” The words pour out of him in a roar, his chest heaves and his hands ball his neatly pressed pants. “She will marry me when I am done courting her, she deserves the full courting experience. I had intended to come home at the start of the Season so I could do it properly but my boat went down at a shipping port and I didn’t make it out of Greece for weeks.

Violet claps her hands, a watery smile on her lips

“These are your intentions, dear?”

He has never seen his mother so proud, joy shining in her eyes.

“Yes. They have been since I left All those months ago. I regret the words I spoke instantly and I needed to figure out why. It didn’t take me long to realize Penelope is the one I desire, I crave, I need her in every humanly way.” It feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest

… until of course, Eloise speaks.

“We’ll best of luck on that journey, brother. Penelope Featherington absolutely loathes you.” She takes too much pleasure from his pain.

“All will work out as it should.” Violet pats his shoulder gently before walking back out.

He needs to fix this before someone else takes his place.

He needs to court Penelope Featherington, and he needs to court her right now.

[gamerstar111]

Downward Spirals

——————————————————————

Komaegi | Words: 1,758 | Hurt/Comfort

——————————————————————

What time even was it? Hell if Makoto knew.

All he knew was that he’d been lying in his bed for far too long, unable to sleep.

His head was loud, so loud.

He hated his anxiety. He hated how out of control it got during Nagito’s self-destructive spirals. Of course, he saw the improvement. He saw his improvement more than anyone did. He saw it in the way he talked himself down less and less, in the way he tried to be more conscious of situations that would put him in danger. He would do well for months—going to therapy, working on the way he talked about himself—and Naegi’s anxiety would fade away.

And then, one day, one sentence, one phrase would send it all crashing down.

——————————————————————

posting some of my fav ao3 fics here... i love these two sm i actually think about them (especially in non-despair au’s like this) SOMUCH

——————————————————————

What time even was it? Hell if Makoto knew. 

All he knew was that he’d been lying in his bed for far too long, unable to sleep.

His head was loud, so loud.

He hated his anxiety. He hated how out of control it got during Nagito’s self-destructive spirals. Of course, he saw the improvement. He saw his improvement more than anyone did. He saw it in the way he talked himself down less and less, in the way he tried to be more conscious of situations that would put him in danger. He would do well for months—going to therapy, working on the way he talked about himself—and Naegi’s anxiety would fade away.

And then, one sentence, one day, one phrase would send it all crashing down.

Sitting in his bed, he heard the conversation he had with him earlier play in his head on loop.

“That would be so dangerous...”

“I’m well aware, however, I have confidence that my luck would carry me through.”

“Nagito, but what if it didn’t?”

“Well, then that would be the universe deciding that it’s meant to happen, no? It would be an honor to go in such a situation, where I would have the chance to become a stepping stone for an even brighter hope to shine.”

“You’re still thinking like that?”

“I have always had faith in the mysterious nature of the universe, and of hope. If it meant that I could inspire such hope to blossom, I would gladly lay down my life.”

That stupid sentence wouldn’t leave him alone. How could it? He knew of Nagito’s history with suicidal ideation, and even genuine attempts, during his episodes of mania or depression.

It terrified him to even know that he still thought the same way, even after showing so much improvement.

“Don’t say that.”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. Why don’t we change the subject?”

He agreed at the time. But the pit in his stomach never left. It only grew the longer the sentence looped in his head, like a broken record that he couldn’t stop.

“I would gladly lay down my life.”

Before he could even think of stopping it, tears were beginning to form in his eyes. His bottom lip quivered, and he raised his hands to cover his face as a quiet sob escaped him.

He knew he was spiraling, but there was nothing he could do about it. He felt trapped in his own mind. 

What if you were just being optimistic? What if he never really made any progress? 

No, don’t doubt him like that. He’s been working so hard.

But he wasn’t even in an episode today. He said that entirely sound of mind.

What if he’s still suicidal?

What if he has a plan?

There are countless different things he has access to.

Don’t doubt him like that. That’s not fair. He’s trying.

But what if he relapses?

What if he’s already dead?

Before long, he was sobbing—unable to escape the hold his anxiety had on his thoughts. They became more and more extreme, until he was convincing himself that maybe, just maybe, his anxiety was right.

What if he really was planning something? What if that was his silent cry for help—what if he missed it by dismissing it as his anxiety making him question things too much?

When he couldn’t handle it anymore, he finally gave in. He reached for his phone with trembling fingers, his free arm gripping his shirt now damp with the tears streaming down his face.

He barely spared a glance at the time. He searched through his contacts for Nagito, until he found it; clumsily pressing the call button as he awaited a response. He would pick up, and it would all be okay.

One, two, three, four, voicemail.

The spiral he was trapped in rapidly began to evolve into a panic attack. He felt his breathing grow unsteady, and his vision swam.

He called again.

One, two, three, four, voicemail.

Was he right? Should he really have taken his nerves more seriously? Maybe it never was anxiety, maybe it was his intuition. 

One, two, three, four…

“Makoto?”

He felt like falling apart with how much relief he felt. 

“Nagito,” He sobbed, gasping for air between his cries. Concern immediately laced the tone of the voice sounding through the phone. 

“My hope, what’s wrong? Are you okay? I apologize for not picking up sooner, I was asleep. Where are—”

“I thought you were dead,” 

After that sentence left his mouth, all of his anxieties tumbled out in an unstoppable wave of words.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I got so scared. I can’t stop thinking about what you said earlier. About— about how— how you would die if it meant— if—” He was cut off by another sob, burying his face against his knees pulled up against his chest. “I was so scared. I was trying to let it go, I was. I just— I—”

“Makoto, my love. Are you breathing?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying— I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Do you want me to come over?”

“Please don’t hang up.”

“I’m right here, Makoto. I’ll stay on the phone. Can you try and focus on breathing for me?”

The faint sound of shifting sounded from the phone, followed by the clattering of keys being pocketed. 

“I can’t. I’m so sorry. It’s so stupid.”

“Darling, please. You don’t have to apologize. I’m almost there. Is your door unlocked?”

Makoto could hardly remember if he locked his door. In his anxious state, he wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot. He was just relieved that Nagito was okay.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

As much as he wanted to stop apologizing like Nagito was so gently begging him to, he just couldn’t. His anxiety was the reason he was acting so irrational in the first place; yet it never failed to remind him that he was being irrational, that his thoughts were unreasonable and unfair to project onto others.

Before he got a response over the phone, he heard the faint click of his doorknob being turned. Light from the hallway filtered in, and a familiar face poked in from behind the door.

Never had he been so, so relieved to see someone. 

Before he could even comprehend that Nagito was here, he was making his way toward him; pulling him into a tight embrace the moment he was close enough.

His arms moved around him immediately, clinging to him like he would disappear if he let go. 

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

Nagito shifted to sit on the bed with him, pulling him into his lap and running his fingers through his hair. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I promise.” There was a pause, before he spoke again. “Focus on my touch. Can you feel my hand in your hair?”

A quiet nod, and he continued.

“Can you feel my shirt? My chest moving with how I’m breathing?”

Another nod, and he pulled Makoto closer. 

“Focus on my breathing. Try and follow it, okay? Listen to my heartbeat. I’m safe, Makoto.”

Whilst he didn’t respond, Makoto’s sobbing began to fade into quiet sniffles the longer Nagito held him, playing with his messy curls and holding him against his chest. The sound of his heart beating calmed him, a physical reminder that Nagito was really here. He was okay, just like he said he was. 

Eventually, the rise and fall of Makoto’s chest matched Nagito’s, and his tears finally ceased. A silence fell over them, simply holding each other and grounding him in the warmth of Nagito’s embrace. 

Voice hoarse from his sobbing, he finally spoke.

“I know you told me not to apologize, but I really am sorry.”

Nagito frowned.

“And I still mean it when I say you don’t have to apologize. In fact, I should apologize. You’ve told me how much you dislike self-destructive talk like that a few times now.”

Makoto shook his head, playing with the bottom of Nagito’s shirt mindlessly as he spoke.

“I know… but you didn’t give me a reason to panic that badly. I really do trust you. I promise.”

As if a puzzle piece clicked into place, Nagito’s eyebrows momentarily raised in surprise, before he laughed gently.

“Is that what you’re worried about, my love? Me feeling like you don’t trust me?” 

Nagito’s hand moved to cup Makoto’s face and make him face him.

“My hope, you believe in me more than anyone else. I hold that fact very dear to my heart. Just because you worry about me, especially after such a concerning conversation, does not mean I am going to start thinking you don’t trust me to keep myself safe. I’d be concerned if you said the same things I do, looking back on it. I suppose old habits just die hard.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to Makoto’s head, wiping away some of the tears remaining on his face with his thumb as he met his eyes.

“Just as I struggle with my mental health at times, I know you do as well. Your anxiety certainly isn’t kind to you in the slightest.”

Makoto gave a bitter laugh, burying his face against his shirt. “It sure isn’t.”

Nagito sighed, leaning back against the wall and holding Makoto against his chest again.

“We’re both working on improving. I’m not upset that you got scared. Of course, I’m not happy with the fact I worried you so much, but the concern you show for me makes me feel appreciated. Does that make sense?”

A slightly delayed nod from Makoto, and Nagito glanced down at him with a curious expression. It was then he noticed how his hold on his shirt had loosened, and his eyes were beginning to droop. 

“You’re tired, my love. Get some rest. I’ll stay with you, okay?”

There was another pause, before Makoto spoke again.

“I love you, Nagito. You know that, right?”

A warm smile spread across Nagito’s face, and he kissed his head once more as he held him close.

“I know that better than anything. I love you too, my hope.”

With that, he leaned his head back against the wall he sat against, gently playing with the curls of Makoto’s hair until his quiet snores began to sound.

It wasn’t long before he too began to grow drowsy again; his sudden awakening catching up to him. He fell asleep quickly, arms never falling from around Makoto—holding him close, keeping him safe.

[help-an-alter]

we have three alters who need help with their identities.

one is very cutesy, hyper femme egirl. she's been here for a little while. she wants things related to lovesick, gorey, and video game themes! she would like names, pronouns, and things she would enjoy.

the one is a bit confusing. they're not a human, they mimic humans. they don't talk often. they're very much connected to liminal horror. they want names and things to do. neutral names preferably.

the last one is connected to the umbrella academy. they're sourced specifically off of klaus and five. they want neutral or feminine names related to mystery, tarot, spirits, and time travel. they also want things to do, comforts, and pronouns.

Hello! I did my best with this one, and I hope it can help! However, I highly recommend googling the trigger warnings for the enjoyment recommendations. Particularly with the first alter, many of the things listed are either quite heavy, gorey, or just generally has potentially triggering content. Be safe and have a good day! :]

1

NAMES: love, aimee, cerise, cherry, cordelia, vevina, esme, carina, adora, amorette/amoretta, avila, carwen, amara/amora, cher, venus, kaira, evie, maisie, lottie, lacey, mimi, rose/rosie, rosanna, winnie, minnie, treasure, admire/admira, willow, veil, annette, ameri, aerith, mercy, mei, sora, techna, mochi, bunny, blossom, evangeline, eleanor, clementine, vivienne, juliet/juliette, nadine, arachne, ariadne, circe, calliope, ambrosine, narcissa, melancholia, grimoire, bite, minerva, miriam, mana, mania, crave, desire, passion, wrath, ophelia

PRONOUNS: ei/eir/eirself, love/loves/loveself, love/sick/lovesickself, heart/hearts/heartself, gut/guts/gutself, rot/rots/rotself, blood/bloods/bloodself, sla/slash/slashself, exe/exe/exeself, vi/vir/virself, vae/vaer/vaerself, do/dove/doveself, ro/roes/roeself, ro/tic/romanticself, cu/pid/cupidself, er/eros/eroself (alt. eris), cru/crush/crushself, stab/stabs/stabself, yan/dere/yandereself (can be done with any archetype), rip/rips/ripself, fle/flesh/fleshself, joy/stick/joystickself, ga/me/gameself (alt. gaming), gli/glitch/glitchself, vid/video/videoself, cli/click/clickself, pix/el/pixelself

THINGS TO ENJOY: doki doki literature club, yandere anime’s (mirai nikki/future diary, happy sugar life, etc), classic horror movies, just cutesy but darker anime’s in general (when they cry, made in abyss, higurashi no naku koro ni, etc), omori, one shot, yume nikki, irisu syndrome, you me and her: a love story (steams version has tons of removed content, but there are sites that provide the full game), katawa shoujo, danganronpa, pony island, school-live, fate/stay night, muv luv (the first is relatively normal, the second is where it gets interesting)

2

NAMES: scratch, scream, ghost, hyde, corner, ephemeral, mystic(al), surreal, dream, evanescent, kaleido/kaleidoscopic, cthonic, cthulhu, hypno(tic), eerie, vapor, vaporwave, anomic, dim, nocturne, null, veld, nim/nym, nox, quill, carbon, vale/veil, peregrine, sal, maris, lux, poet, cove, vesper, rook, elixer, glow, soul/sol, naren, endelian, viridian, aether, zenith, shrike, heath, crypt, hex, styx, dread, vex, howl, fable, hale, shade, vaughn

THINGS TO ENJOY: lots of roblox games (evade, doors, 3008, apeirophobia, etc), studying the backrooms, looking into architecture related to older buildings, found footage, lost media, the movie don’t worry darling, the movie skinamarink, short films on youtube, learning about folklore, exploring google maps, weirdcore tiktoks, weirdcore games, superliminal, mirrors edge, scp, stanley parable

3

NAMES: leto, haze, enigma, veil, rune/runa, mystique, wulfrun, calypso, calliope, raven, aradia, blair, sloane, genesis, maze, mazikeen, lilith, medea, elspeth, tamsin, lydia, shiloh, tatiana, lucina, anima, banshee, sybil, cerelia, neander, signe, evening, millennium, lustrum/lustram, sunday, mist(y), gloom, seraph, sera, shade, gargoyle, loom, moon, paige (page of ___), ace, empress

PRONOUNS: tar/aro/tarotself, arc/ana/arcanaself, maj/major/majorself, my/ster/mysteryself, haunt/haunts/hauntself, spi/rit/spiritself, ti/ime/timeself, clo/clocks/clockself, er/era/eraself, dec/ade/decadeself, year/years/yearself, hour/glass/hourglasself, ma/gic/magicself, mana/manas/manaself, gho/ghost/ghostself, sand/sands/sandself, thon/thons/thonself, card/cards/cardself, div/divs/divinityself (alt. divineself, divself), coin/coins/coinself, cup/cups/cupself, wand/wands/wandself, pent/acle/pentacleself, sword/swords/swordself, tar/taro/tarotself, ture/future/futureself, pas/past/pastself, ca/calen/calenderself, cen/centuryself, ve/ven/venself, a/ages/ageself, eni/enis/enigmaself, cry/crypt/cryself (alt. cryptic)

THINGS TO ENJOY / BRING COMFORT: practice several forms of divination (tarot, runes, bone throwing, even playlists can be divination, etc), look into witchcraft and/or paganism, watch time travel related media, explore a graveyard, respectfully clean gravestones, leave offerings to your ancestors (i recommend doing research into this first), create a way to show your identity (ie. bracelet, necklace, etc), cleanse yourself/your home, read mystery novels

divider by strangersgraphics-archive

[loneberry]

Baby's First Meditation Retreat

…attention is prayer. —Simone Weil

It would be simpler—the monastic life would be so much simpler. Wake, pray, meditate, do battle with the ego, eat, sleep—live such that everything inessential is stripped away. Why did you come here, I said, I’m tired of living a distracted life, of going through my days in a fog of unawareness.

In Cambridge, MA I attended a meditation retreat. I signed up on a whim, out of a vague feeling that I have lost control of my mind. I have been meditating very casually for the last nine years, mostly using the Calm app, listening to Tara Brach recordings, and attending guided meditations while a grad student. I had come to the practice out of desperation, in the midst of a debilitating depression that made me feel perpetually tormented by my thoughts. During that time, I would voraciously read every study I could find on depression treatments and tried basically every treatment modality out there: neurofeedback, ketamine, therapeutic yoga, medication, CBT, DBT, fish oil, an anti-inflammatory diet, psychedelics, and the “treatment” that ultimately saved me: intensive psychoanalysis four days a week. Meditation seemed a particularly promising and low-risk way to manage depression and anxiety—and yes, it did bring me some relief, working as a kind of supplement to the psychoanalysis. Even though I haven’t been as consistent about it as I would have liked, I continued to practice it regularly, usually for about 10-20 minutes a day. Not once have I regretted meditating, though when life gets busy it’s easy to tell yourself that you just don’t have the time to sit and do nothing, even though we seem to somehow always have the time to mindlessly surf the internet. 

What is there to say. I’m just so tired of living on autopilot, of not having to face the moment, to face myself. There are a million ways to blot out one’s internal monologue, filling up our days with the background chatter of podcasts or social media. 

The recrudescence of my Simone Weil mania has forced me to reflect on attention—that rare quality of mind which is increasingly in short supply. And yet everything is a matter of attention—not because attention can be instrumentalized to achieve one’s goals. No. Attention is the end in itself. Weil: “We have to try to cure our faults by attention and not by will.” It’s in that second-to-second awareness that reverence for the moment blossoms. The fog is lifting. Here is the trembling world, a cloud passing, the dancing light on the pavement as the sun passes through the rustling leaves of the tree. Weil: “Attention, taken to its highest degree, is the same thing as prayer. It presupposes faith and love.” 

*

I landed in Boston late Friday night and early the next morning was off to the Zen center for the silent two-day retreat. I really did not know what to expect when I signed up. I knew a little about the different schools of Buddhism from studying it in a course as an undergrad. I remember being slightly afraid of “Zen” (or Chan) in particular because it seemed so severe to me. I imagined interminable zazen sessions, without guidance or visualizations; imagined slouching pupils getting whacked with sticks for bad posture or falling asleep. Yet surely if I were to test the Buddhist waters, I should do Zen/Chan since it is a specifically Chinese tradition? My father’s uncle was a Buddhist monk who wandered the mountains of China. I don’t know anything about him, other than his sister (my grandma) was devastated when he died after getting hit by a train. Whether it was suicide or just a manic pixie monk moment, I do not know.

*

Some meditation retreats are completely secular—they are just like a series of long, guided mindfulness sessions, with the context, rituals, and “religious” dimensions stripped away. This was not really that kind of retreat. There were robes, chants in Korean, elaborate meal rituals, and yes, getting whacked with a stick! Of course it is always possible to opt out of getting hit with the keisaku stick—I thought I would, but in the end I took the whacking almost every time it was offered, partly because it jolted me awake and relieved the tension building up in my body from hours and hours of sitting cross-legged on a cushion. The first couple of times the keisaku whacking was administered, I had to restrain myself from laughing. Oh my God, we’re getting whacked by a Buddhist master! In the orientation the instructor said it was for “tension release” but I did feel that it was something like a ritual of submission to the authority of the teacher, even if it didn’t really hurt. Watching how eagerly D. bowed to receive the stick in the orientation, I wondered if the Zen pupils were secretly sadomasochists. 

Constitutionally, I am not a “joiner” and have an aversion to organized religion and anything that emits even a whiff of cult vibes. I’ve always been critical of authority and incapable of following rules, possibly because I didn’t have any growing up. But there was something soothing about how regimented everything was. We performed our actions in sync, chanted about emptiness at 4:30am. The whole experience felt almost militaristic, but a part of me enjoyed the austere, disciplinary atmosphere and the obsessive attention to detail. Not disciplinary in a punitive sense, but disciplinary in the way I imagine Russian classical music training to be: the methodical pursuit of self-mastery (it’s hardly surprising that the Zen master I received instruction from was a classically trained pianist). During the retreat I concluded that more discipline would be good for me.

Most of the retreat consisted of meditating in silence. There was no small talk, no psychobabble, no “now we will get started…”—he just hits the wooden clapper three times, and the sitting session starts. No guidance, no body-scan, no loving-kindness prompts. Just you, seated cross-legged on the cushion in silence, facing the tumult of your chaotic mind, your hands in the Dhyana Mudra position, your eyes half-closed. 

It is a profound and difficult experience, having to face your own mind…both utterly banal and deeply disturbing, thoughts flitting from “maybe I should try to find a used bicycle on the OfferUp app” to thoughts of my parents’ mortality. I was warned by the Zen teacher that difficult emotions might bubble up. Thrice I broke out into tears and strained to regain my composure. It began during one of the short breaks, when I was lying on a bench outside looking up at the sky, imagining that a passing cloud was a life appearing briefly before dissipating. It was an unmediated confrontation with the eternal flux of the universe—pure panta rhei. 

Weil: “Whatever frightful thing may happen, can we desire that time should stop, that the stars should be stayed in their courses? Time’s violence rends the soul: by the rent eternity enters.” Time’s violence has utterly and completely ripped apart my soul. I wanted to hold onto everyone and everything I love, for the stars to be stayed in their courses, for time to stop, for my parents to live forever. I thought about Mari Ruti’s rapid decline and death, about my recent visit to my older brother in prison, and my trip to my relatives’ assisted living home, where my mother’s cousin has been completely waylaid by the rapid onset of Parkinson’s disease. I thought about my father sitting down in the chair looking out the window at the assisted living home, talking about getting old, how his knees ache now. Time’s violence rends the soul.Will I be strong enough to face the eternal flux, the impermanence of everything I love, with a fierceness that borders on madness, grieving even the eventual death of the Sun? Sitting on the cushion meditating, crying: let go. Will I ever be able to let go with grace? Don’t know. Sink into don’t-know mind. Count the breath. Something passes through me.

What did I see, what did I hear—I heard every exhibit of the Museum of Jurassic Technology: the voice imploring us to follow the chain of flowers into the mysteries of life, the burbling waters of the miniature model of Iguazú Falls, a recording of David Wilson talking about exploding dice, the distant echoes of barks in the bestiary room, the mournful sound of the duduk in Djivan Gasparyan’s “Lovely Spring” playing the Sandaldjian room, Monteverdi’s “Lamento della Ninfa” as I ascend the stairs to the sublime courtyard, Bach’s “Ich ruf zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ” in the ‘Ecstatic Journey of Konstantin Tsiolkovsky’ exhibit (impossible not to see the levitation scene from Tarkovsky’s Solaris when hearing BWV 639), Mihály Víg’s “Valuska” in The Borzoi Kabinet Theater at the end of the day, and the sound of David’s nyckelharpa reverberating in the garden. 

Now the birds of the mind are taking flight.

In, out. In, out. Return to the breath. 

The mind opening like a door to the sky

            a deep purple flower unfolding in the emptiness.

List everything you see, her feet standing on the lotus. 

Clear mind

Clear mind

Clear mind

Don’t know.

(In) 1-2-3-4 (out) 5-6-7-8

Κύριε Ἰησοῦ Χριστέ ἐλέησόν με 

The heart

The heart

The spherical heart of the manatee

Thoughts and thoughts and thoughts and thoughts

like waves, saturating the swash zone of the mind…

It’s the weekend of the Perseid meteor shower. Eight years ago, Ed and I watched them from the dock of a Maine pond. We had rented an Airbnb from a man with the same name as a dear poet friend of mine, Dana Ward. (I was dreaming of Dana when I woke up this morning.) A week after the Maine trip, I was at the mental hospital. I had forgotten I had a poetry reading. The woman organizing it called, wondering where I was. 

Eight years have passed me in the blink of an eye. 

Thoughts.

In

out

In

out

In 10-30 second intervals: nothing. Just the space between thoughts.

There were two states of non-self:

one of calm neutrality—just the is-ness of the world.

The other, something more ecstatic:

a mystical amnesia, when you become the contraction and expansion of the breath.

What is there to say about it? In my stead there was a heaving purple cloud floating in a black room.

Then, the “I” coheres again. Head so full of language, thinking about everything I want to write. “I shouldn’t be so attached to my thoughts.” The teacher says in the interview: it’s not about suppression.

Writers are fundamentally hoarders of thoughts. I try to collect each one, as the squirrel does the acorns. In my head I am writing an essay about the antidepressant withdrawals, my astonishment that I did not relapse as David Foster Wallace did when he committed suicide after tapering off his antidepressant. I remember when my thoughts were stuck on the “I want to die” loop, how Ed installed the ad blocker on my internet browser because he was disturbed by the suicide hotline targeted ads. I do not think such thoughts anymore. Maybe it is true—we are not our thoughts. They pass through my mind like water through the sieve. Did Woolf train herself to observe the stream? Too much thinking. I must be doing it wrong. Wrong again—I’m supposed to suspend judgment. 

I hear my friend Tim saying, “the mathematics section is the most mystical part of the library.”

Then Weil says, “As soon as we have a point of eternity in the soul, we have nothing more to do but to take care of it, for it will grow of itself like a seed. It is necessary to surround it with an armed guard, waiting in stillness, and to nourish it with the contemplation of numbers…” 

Now I’m thinking about the relationship between math and mysticism, about the Indian number theorist Srinivasa Ramanujan, who received, in his dreams, thousands of formulas from the Hindu Goddess Namagiri. Ramanujan: “An equation for me has no meaning unless it expresses a thought of God.”

I remember my poem “Umbra,” in which I reference the French mathematician Alexander Grothendieck’s strange book, La Clef des Songes (‘The Key of Dreams’). As one commenter puts it: “It’s a book about God. Grothendieck’s thesis is simple. We meet God in dreams. But we aren’t ourselves dreaming God, rather God Himself is dreaming us. Or better: according to Grothendieck ‘a Dreamer’ exists, an external force who ‘dreams our dreams’ and at the same time dreams us. And this force can only be God. … he declares, in a little footnote that it’s almost hidden, that mathematics wasn’t ‘created by God’ nor by man, but by an aspect of God’s nature that, unique among his attributes, is accessible to human reason.”

A week ago, I was telling Alex about Oppenheimer’s mysticism, his proficiency in Sanskrit and intensive study of the Bhagavad Gita, his “feeling for the mystery of the universe that surrounded him almost like a fog.” I watched Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer biopic with Alex—a mathematician/mathematical physicist—and my father—an almost-physicist who immigrated to the U.S. from Taiwan to do a physics PhD in Wyoming but dropped out after his first year to move to NYC to wait tables at a Chinese restaurant. After the film, we watched a documentary about Sir Isaac Newton’s heretical theology and alchemical studies, how he read the Bible as a cryptogram and determined the world will end in 2060.

Could there be a connection between mathematics and the capacity for the divine, between the abstraction of mathematical thinking and the ability to sense the invisible, to see the hidden points that connect disparate realms? Wasn’t Einstein a Spinozist?

Scraps of language jostle around in my mind like a shaking bowl of coins. Stupid thoughts like, “Lacan is to psychoanalysis as Zen is to Buddhism.”

I see myself thinking about the news, about geopolitics and the madness of nation states. China is preparing their population for war, as are we. A kind of nausea overcomes me, as I see the whole nuclear age unfurl before me. 

We dwell on whatever we expose ourselves to, the articles we read, the people we see, the people we lurk online, the reflex to compare, to repeat the name of the Other like a mantra. 

Everything you think you need, you don’t actually need.

A butterfly has somehow flown into the Dharma room. It flits on the floor in the middle of the room. The teacher scoops it up and brings it outside. She corrects my dreadfully sloppy attempt to perform the meal ritual. I panic because I’ve taken too much food and must eat every last crumb. The pear is not ripe, and it is a torture to eat the whole thing. The pear is not ripe—a Zen lesson! Mastication of the unripe pear, a kind of koan. 

There was a short break. I decided to walk around Central Square, without a wallet or phone or headphones. 

How can I describe the sense of aliveness I felt in that moment, that alert receptivity, when I looked at the sky and saw the birds of Central Square taking flight above the Greek Orthodox Church? I walked up the stairs—some ceremony is taking place inside. Down the streets, there’s a brunch spot I never knew about in the seven years I lived in this town. There’s the sound of a busker, so sweet, and a flower shop I wandered into. There’s the bus stop I would wait at on my way to psychoanalysis. I cross the street. Emanating from a building on Mass Ave is the rhythmic thud of Latin American music—it must be the music-dance sessions my ethnomusicologist friend told me about years ago.  

Before dawn on the second day, we perform 108 prostrations. It turns my legs to Jell-O. When I walk up the stairs to use the bathroom, I have to grasp the banister to drag myself up. A few days later I can still barely walk from the soreness caused by the rapid-fire prostrations. Was there something off about my form? I noticed that the others relied more on their arms to hoist themselves up, while I relied almost exclusively on my legs.

And yet I quite enjoy prostrating myself. Outside of any religious or ritual context, I sometimes find myself spontaneously performing prostrations—to what or whom, I do not know. To the earth? I like to kiss the ground, to give thanks to this marvelous rock on which we all dwell. 

*

The interview with the Zen teacher takes a bizarre turn: she asks me questions about DeSantis, in a ‘liberals-trying-to-commiserate’ kind of way. My hatred of DeSantis is bottomless—I had just flown in from Florida the night before the retreat. Please, anything but a DeSantis koan! She asks me if it annoys me that she has been correcting my attempt to execute the meal ritual. I say, No, I don’t mind being an amateur, and crack a joke about being an adult music learner. When the short interview is over, I return to the silence of the Dharma room.

Sitting in silence for long periods is much harder than it looks. Yet the second day feels easier than the first day, despite being on day three of almost no sleep. Toward the end of the retreat, I stare at a spot on the floor, convinced it is a moving bug. It jiggles and jerks, walks in a circle, but always seems to return to the same spot. I can’t stop observing the bug. At the end of the sit, I lean in to get a closer look only to realize it’s not a bug at all, but a dark spot in the wood flooring. 

When the retreat is over, there’s the shock of hearing everyone’s voices, of realizing you had projected otherworldliness on people who are just people in the way you are just a person. We sit in a circle and take turns sharing our experiences. I say, “I came on a whim…because I watched YouTube videos about Buddhism with my dad.” We eat vegan pie at the table. The girlfriend of the man sitting next to me has come to meet him, with roses.

I grab my backpack, put on my Blundstones, and leave the center, in the soft afterglow of the mind’s clearing. What did it feel like: I had no desire to look at my phone. Turning on my phone was almost painful, and yet I needed to call the friend I was staying with. I met up with the religious studies poets, felt more present with others, more natural. We tried to go to the Harvard Film Archive to watch Ozu but were turned away for arriving late. We sat on a rooftop terrace to watch the sunset, with a view of the two spires of Harvard Yard, Memorial Church and Memorial Hall. Sun through the leaves, perceived crisply, as though a layer of mediation had been removed.