#gay egotistical bitches

[affableboar-zero]

It's extremely funny to me that some of the songs I associate with this one OC pairing are mostly like toxic lover songs ("Hold Me Tight Or Don't" "Call Me What You Like" "She Wants Me Dead" etc.) And yet like... they're not actually toxic. They just can't communicate and they're absolute murder menaces together. They are scarily smart and deceptive together, and yet they share exactly two brain cells on a good day. They kill for each other and they die for their causes together. They're simply menaces whose vibes cannot be explained other than just "hold me tight or don't", "not sure if you want it/not sure if you need me too", "so honey please don't let go/or you'll fall into the dead of night"

[hubrisbracket]

Hubris Bracket Side A Poll 3: Trixie Lulamoon (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic) vs Erin Ruunaser (Aurora Comic)

Propaganda below (may contain spoilers)

Trixie Lulamoon

If any mlp character deserves to be in the hubris bracket it should be Trixie. Also she literally didn't even do anything wrong except entertain people (which is literally her job) and was punished just because the mane six couldn't take a fking joke. And, I might be wrong about this- but Trixie was originally only supposed to appear for like one episode but the fans loved her so much they brought her back and she became one of the biggest characters on the show. literal legend. Stream Magic Bitch by Vylet Pony and Magic by The Living Tombstone btw "sometimes you gotta let your ego slip for your own mental health" -Vylet Pony

egotistical magician my beloved... petty stage magician. she has a long standing rivalry with the princess of friendship (twilight sparkle ofc) who is incredibly powerful with actual magic. she tried to run twilight out of town once. it didn't go well. oh also she's besties (gay) with twilight's protege which annoys her to no end. also also she's sooooo trans the entire fandom agrees

Erin Ruunaser

This man walked directly into a primordial magic storm with an almost 100% death rate because he wanted to look at what's in the middle; he's the current Elemental Magus, and it has definitely gone to his head; he's outsmarted (or tried to outsmart) an eldritch evil that killed the oldest and most powerful gods of his world twice, which possessed him because of his aforementioned storm-walk; and his creator has called him Sicktats McHubris at least once. Also, he acts incredibly smug all the time.

He’s kinda like the avatar, so he thought that it would be a good idea to walk into a magical storm that no person had ever seen the center of. He ended up getting possessed by an ancient god-killing evil and now has to get rid of him. The fandom has nicknamed him Sicktats McHubris, on account of his very cool magical tattoos.

[silly-l1ttle-guy]

silly little guy's list of stinky ships

Fugio

fucking love fugio

giorno x fugo for life

calm bf and angry bf

ending of phf pretty gay too

2. Bruabba

perfect for eachother

bruabba holds a special place in my heart

bruno x abbacchio

depressed goth and the tired dad who keeps him stable

3. Caejose

one of the first ships i really liked

caesar x joseph

training wasn't the ONLY thing they did together

hotheaded bf and airheaded bf

4. josuyasu

another one of the first ships I really got into

josuke x okuyasu

probably too shy to kiss each other

love these guys

5. avpol

avdol x polnareff

just look at them

gorgeous dark skinned man and his weird ass pale shrimp bf

i love au's where they live together with iggy

6. jonaeriwagon

i've never seen fanart of this ship that isn't adorable

jonathan x erina x speedwagon

gentle giant husband, kind wife, and their anxious bf

great ship

7. esikars

esidisi x kars

idk what to tell you lmao

they raised two kids together without any help, there's no way something gay isn't going on there

proud and egotistical bastard and his goofy ass bf

8. yasugap

yasuho x josuk8/gappy

they're perfect for each other

i haven't read part 8 yet but from what i know, they're the only thing that matters

silly pretty girl and her confused dumbass bf

9. jolymes

jolyne x hermes

i love lesbians i wish they were real

bad bitch x bad bitch

they have the exact same thought process

10. gyjo

gyro x johnny

fruity italian and his twink american bf

i love this ship it's so cute

olive garden

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HONERABLE MENTIONS:

weathersui (weather x anasui)

dionilla (dio x vanilla ice)

caejoseQ (caesar x joseph x suzi)

whamseph (wamuu x joseph)

jotakak (jotaro x kakyoin)

dinopants (diego x hot pants)

pucci x jotaro (purely for shits and giggles)

jolsui (jolyne x anasui)

naramis (narancia x mista)

kiranobu (kira x shinobu)

jotahan (also shits and giggles, jotaro x rohan)

melghia (melone x ghiaccio)

sillywagon (silly little guy x speedwagon) (THIS IS A JOKE)

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fugio real

[downintheseine]

gotta start being more disgustingly gay on here so the terfs don't even THINK about following me. i'm fucking sick of it, it's happened two times already (gonna say it loud and clear this time, both times among libertines fans, which is like. get well soon if you love pete's stuff and don't think trans people are a thing. homeboy wouldn't be half the writer he is without jean genet's novels with his plethora of trans characters). and it's fucked up, cause when it happens i blame myself, like "well of course they think they're safe with you bitch, you're judgy, hateful and depressed". but dammit, i might be a miserable sack of shit but at least i don't believe humanity can be divided in "this theory is acceptable/this other one isn't". having the gall and the gumption to think that a trans person is just mentally ill because you partake in "gender critical literature" and you've decided their identity is not valid... not only obtuse but also classist, not to mention racist when other cultures are involved. but in general, i don't know how you can live with yourself thinking stuff like "X group of people shouldn't be a thing". you fucking nazis. you fucking egotistical jerks. the world doesn't revolve around your opinions and people are gonna do whatever the fuck they wanna do. die mad about it. anyway consider this my "terfs dni" pinned post.

[thatonetwig]

Hood x Void stuffs because they won't get out of my head.

Dynamic: Cocky, egotistical, and short dude alongside his partner, who's nice, humble, and tall; thinks of their partner as a bit of a handful, but still loves them anyways.

Headcanons:

• Void has a habit of stealing his boyfriend's hoodies whenever he feels like it. He doesn't have a reason for doing it apart from, "They’re super comfy."

• Jet REALLY doesn't like Hood despite him and Void being together for a good amount of time (he's jealous that Hood is taking away Void's attention from him). He still tries to claw out his eyes if he picks him up.

• Hood sometimes sings the chorus/backing vocals and does the mixing for some of Void's songs. Void secretly finds Hood's voice to be great and wants to include him in a song or two with a lead part, but his ego hasn't allowed him to do that (at least not yet).

• The Accretions like Hood as a person, but they're just a bit apprehensive of who he's associated with and keep an eye on him and Void in case anything happens.

• Void let Hood brush his hair once, and then never again (Hood doesn't have any, and Void has a full head of hair, so I think you can guess what happened there).

• Speaking of hair, Void does let Hood play with his hair sometimes when it's just them because both of them like the feeling of it. Void does like Hood's head too...because it's a reflective surface and he gets to look at himself in it.

• Hood's main way of expressing his love is through physical gestures such as small kisses and quick hugs (he doesn't get to hold them out for longer very often, but loves every second of it when he does get to).

• Void's main way of expressing his love is through gift giving, such as merch from his concerts and other things related to him. Occasionally, though, he'll throw in an alternative gift such as an expensive microphone or a DJ turntable. Hood appreciates everything he gets from him.

• The reason why most of their hugs and kisses don’t usually last longer than a minute is because Void isn't used to physical touch. He likes the feeling of what's being done to him, but he feels uncomfortable at the same time and pulls away. When they do last longer than a minute (which is rarely), Void loves it just as much as Hood does and doesn't want to let him go.

Some Vocaloid songs I associate with these two:

• Kanadetomosusora - Sasanomaly (feat. Hatsune Miku)

• Lonely Universe - Aqu3ra (feat. flower and Hatsune Miku)

• It’s Just Life - nulut (feat. flower and Yuzuki Yukari

Finally, some Incorrect Quotes that may or may not be OOC!

• Hood: OKAY, YOU KNOW WHAT?! TIME OUT! GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE! GET UP THERE!

Void: *Climbing* THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!!!

• Hood: Are you ready to commit?

Void: Like, a crime or a relationship?

• Void: I’m having salad for dinner!

Hood:

Void: Well, fruit salad.

Void: Actually, it’s mostly grapes.

Hood:

Void: Okay, it’s all grapes.

Void: Fermented grapes.

Hood:

Void:

Hood:

Void: It’s wine.

Void: I’m having wine for dinner.

• Void: *sighs* I have no friends...

Hood:

Hood: *coughs* Bitch, what am I? A roach?!

• Hood: Void? What are you doing here?

Void, wearing a hawaiian shirt, sunglasses and holding a gatorade: My best.

• Void: How do tall people possibly sleep at night when the blanket can't possibly cover you?

Hood: Void, it's four o'clock in the morning.

Void: So, you can't sleep, huh? Is it because of the blanket?

• Void, to Hood: I'm leaving for the weekend, so I hid 100 dollars in your room for food. Clean your room, and you will find it.

• Void: There is no i in happyness…

Hood: There is if you fucking spell it right.

• Hood: I can’t tell if you’re a genius or just incredibly arrogant.

Void: Well, on a good day, I’m both.

Also:

*Void is about to go on stage and there is no mirror*

"Hood! Could you come here for a sec? I need to borrow the back of your head!"

Anyway, thank you for reading my propaganda about two gay grapes! Hope you enjoyed!

[unnerving-presence]

honestly i genuinely dont think wesker would judge the body of his s/o ever,,he doesnt give me that vibe and it honestly weirds me out so much when ppl try to paint him like that lol (then again im insane and love him sooooo) like,,idk this is prolly SO stupid of me but i genuinely refuse to believe albert would treat his s/o like shit 🧍‍♂️my gay ass refuses to accept that

no cause i totally agree with you on this

time and time again i will use excella as a prime example as to why he simply wouldn’t do shit like that because SHE IS ALSO A WESKER SIMP 😭 yes in that circumstance she was being used but when i talk about this i use the part where.. yk he rizzed her up and treated her good enough to the point where she’d do literally anything for him and also told her they’d change the world together. she also called him albert!! she felt close enough to him to even call him by his first name. they’ve been working together for years, clearly wesker’s been working his charm on her

if wesker’s gonna treat a sexy ass bitch like that and it’s just to use her, imagine how he’d treat you if you were his s/o and he really cared about you

wesker has good relationships with both alex and birkin and still stays in contact with alex during re5. he doesn’t treat her like shit for no reason just because he’s albert wesker. he can and does care about people 🤷‍♀️ i’m tired of people acting like wesker has no emotions and can’t be fucking NICE

news flash !!

these fuckers were friends !! GENUINE FRIENDS (those wesker stans r having an aneurysm rn)

like it or not, wesker doesn’t treat everybody in his life like shit. sure, by nature he can be a little egotistical and competitive but that doesn’t mean he goes “KILL YOURSELF” to everybody he sees. like the same people that accuse other wesker stans of making him ooc (they made a comfort ai tik tok where he says reassuring words how dare they 👿) also make him ridiculously ooc by acting like he can’t have friends or good relationships with people. yes, he doesn’t really like most people and it totally would take years upon years to form a genuine bond with him, but that doesn’t mean he’s gonna be a dick to everybody anyways. he’s obviously maintains professionalism in his daily life and during work. i have no idea what brings these people to assume that wesker doesn’t have the capability to be a decent human being

anyways wesker would treat his s/o good cause.. yk ur his fucking s/o why wouldn’t he 😭❤️

[shitty-davesprite-daily]

could you give a list of any corvid like attributes you exhibit? -🦩anon

TG: ...

TG: yknow what sure. why not

TG: only because you arent obsessing over me being 'gay' like everyone else on this goddamn website apparently is

TG: ill take bird shit any day

TG: also i had to actually look this shit up so youre welcome for that

TG: getting educational up in this bitch its like national geographic

TG: anyway apparently corvids are 'among the most intelligent birds thus far studied' and 'display remarkable intelligence for animals of their size' so when i call myself a goddamn genius thats wikipedia talking not me being an egotistical asshat

TG: the feathers obviously

TG: usually theyre meant to be like black or blue, but apparently the tropical species are 'brightly colored' so im just gonna assume orange falls into that

TG: being 'omnivorous'? idk i usually just eat what i can find which is apparently a crow thing

TG: yeah see shit like that. ill eat that shit any day

TG: and also like

TG: idk i dont really love people going near my shit?

TG: not in a stupid territorial way just in a chill normal laidback way yknow

TG: i dont know the bird shit isnt really that fuckin important

TG: like i got sickass wings

TG: wing now anyway

TG: and i can make some fucked up sounds sometimes

TG: still just a regular dude apart from that

[steadypet101]

(TW bullying mention, transp*obic and homop*obic mention, and rac*sm mention if you don't want to read the description below)

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Meet the nastiest, narcissistic, egotistical, cruelest, heartless, cold-hearted, floozy, dirty, manipulating, biggest bully in the Mutant Mayhem universe, Carrie Rojas! She is the queen and rules Eastman High. As the queen bee and the crowned prom queen, Carrie is the most beautiful and the most popular girl you'll love to hate. She'll bully others mercilessly and enjoy hurting people in her own way possible. She hates the Reece sisters and the Drake sisters. There are others who love and adore her, and she can claim any boy she wants, taken or not as long as they're handsome to her. She's the queen of lies and rumor spreading. One bad judgment to her, or calling her a loser, bitch, ugly, slut, etc., or try to upranking her on the social ladder, or to challenge her, or to steal her place as prom queen, or even stood up to her, she'll make up a false rumor about them and crush them so hard that their heads will spin. She has no respect for anyone or anything but herself. She is also racist towards to the Mexicans.

She has her own crew, known as the Hive Ladies (her six friends will have a change of hearts and abandon Carrie later on, eventually). She's a type of girl who doesn't "touch" the gays or the transgenders. She especially doesn't want to have to deal with the Ninja Turtles or their mutant family. As pretty she is, others are blind to see her cruel and ugly side of her because she's internet famous. She is like Regina George, Junko Enoshima, Chris Hargensen, Mertle Edmonds, Sunset Shimmer (formerly self), Velvet (Trolls Band Together), Verosika Mayday, and Katie Killjoy all in one. Not to worry, though. She'll always get instant karmas like all the female fictional bullies in movies and TV shows.

Anyway, I hope y'all like this piece.

[myfaveisfuckable]

Rants under the read more

Sharon x Alice: Immediately thought these bitches gay, good for them and went online to see that No One except for maybe the author agreed. Entranced by these girls before I even knew I liked girls and the only ship art was by the author who created them in the first place. You simply have to love unassuming bad bitch x bad bitch assuming just a little guy

Nero tol Scaeva/ Graha Tia: The characters have major height difference. Nero acts very sarcastic and egotistical but shows some care for others especially when they have similar interests. Nero and G’Raha have a love of ancient technology that they share.

There’s also the fact that one uses magic and the other can’t but both are centered on tech. Graha is a catboy

Nero looks and acts a lot like spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer

They both deserve someone that can love them and connect in a way others may not understand

[eolewyn1010]

Dragging Frankenstein - prologue

Well, fuck it; I miss posting more various stuff of my own instead of just reblogging, so I'll post the snark I have bestowed on Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Don't be misled; it's a hell of an interesting read if one can get over the Regency prose, but the protagonist pisses me off to unholy degrees, so I shan't be too respectful. I'll do it my way, with only arbitrary regards to the lingual differences between Now and Then (rule of Funny goes, folks) and with my silly little counters. Don't take too seriously. Onward to the prologue, and one Captain Robert Walton, who is not our protagonist!

“in a country of eternal light” – wtf, Walton? Does he mean polar days? Bc those are not eternal, but then he does spout a lot of purple prose (and so does the entire book).

And more weird fantasizing – “passage at the pole”, what’s that supposed to be good for? “secret of the magnet”???

“my education was much neglected” – yeah, stop marveling at your self-taught brilliance already; I swear, Walton and Victor both are so egotistical it’s no miracle they can take an interest only in one another.

Also, Walton had an emo poet phase. And his Chemical Romance didn’t take off. LOL.

“worked harder than the common sailors” – sure you did, you spoiled little rich kid. “preferred glory to luxury” – I’m getting distinct Stede Bonnet vibes here, and in a very Privileged White Guy way. And he keeps exotizing Russia. I SO PRIVILEGED: 1

“longing for a friend” calls in the Gay™, and after bashing his so-beneath-him sailors for a bit, it settles in with “I desire the company of a man […] whose eyes would reply to mine. You may deem me romantic…” Counter starts now. DAS GAY: 2

“shall certainly find no friend on the ocean” – yeah, chill out, we saw your subtle foreshadowing. Why does he keep telling his SISTER how his early life went??

His “best years spent under your gentle and feminine fosterage” leading to a distaste of brutality is ever so slightly sexist in several directions, but it also rings in the theme of every goddamn female character being cast in the light of a maternal figure – even when that is not the relation in which she stands to the character in question. EVERY WOMAN IS A MOM: 1

Whyyyyy does the gossip about his ship master’s failed love story take up so much space? I dunno this guy???

“as silent as a Turk”, “ignorant” and “savage inhabitant of some island” – oh, hai, racism!

Is one single dog really strong enough to pull a sledge with a person plus luggage on it?

Funny how Walton describes Victor as all emaciated and shit, and yet goes insta-thirsty like “must have been a noble creature in his better days, being even now in wreck so attractive and amiable” – and Victor is “uneasy when anyone except myself enters his cabin”, gotcha. DAS GAY: 4

And five minutes after knowing him, Walton declares him the “brother of my heart”, and his “affection for my guest increases every day”. DAS GAY: 6

The unfounded praises of Victor being “wise, noble, gentle” get on my nerves, but imagine my eyebrows at the lines “a groan burst from his heaving breast” and “my thirst for a more intimate sympathy”. Because… huh. DAS GAY: 7

Bitch, where do you get off calling your sister fastidious? She probably had the same education you did! Get your ego out here.

Walton’s crush on Frankenstein is already getting old; does he need to gush about him like he’s the bees’ knees? He doesn’t know this asshole at all! “his lustrous eyes with their melancholy sweetness” – ok, Walton needs to get laid. DAS GAY: 8

What a queer intro, and no, I don't plan to stop making fun of this kind of language. It's the only redeeming grace of these characters.

[beneaththemooon]

You're so gorgeous. IDC if you're toxic and egotistic like you're hot enough where I absolutely don't feel like those things are even the tiniest bit relevant. Like, I'd give you every penny out of my boa. It's absolutely unbelievable that everyone doesn't worship you like a goddess. I might be a bit high and saw ur picture and gotten extra gay. Maybe.

I understand exactly what you mean lol I feel the same way when I see a sexy girl, I be wanting to buy bitches channel bags just cause they pretty 😭

[solardick]

Uh. The Vatican has its own country of 500 people.

India 1,4 billion. China 1.4 billion. Canada. 38 million.

So what came first, the chiken or the egg? It’s so odd. Create the image, influences then come to being. … how does that work?… at any rate, the card works. Works as a powerful transmuted christian image. Helpd to pull the carnivorous nature of reptiles, dinosaurs and monsters into a positive momentum. Bearing semblance to magestic creators. Fear in knowing the dangers of its rebuke. If thats not too harsh of a word. Not knowing the still pressence of what should be radiating light. Warm rays of sunshine on a cool departure. Intimidation. Engagement is perplexing.

This card placed ontop of the deck. Centerd between the two 5’s of ten. The pope raising its hand. Two fingers to the sun. Pointing up about to infinity. Save that it can replace the pope card. Breaking out a barrier. balancing the equation between sexes.

Adds definition to strength as harmony. Clashes horrendously with waites magician. Belittling the serpent as a belt to hold up his pants with. Is that its purpose? Well people back then were fucked. Thats the generation that started ww 1 and 2….

It becomes the center card of the deck layout. And the pope card doesnt lose any signicance as it is p’aced above on a spot on high. A throne. Which he is clear’y occupying.

Anyway the two infinity cards from the tarot become the parents to the serpent. Showing the emperor’s holy lineage. Ideally the devil card 15 from tarot modified to the likness of the serpent shows from what the empress is descended from.

Connected to my personalize oO death card numbering 15 connects it again to the sex. Symbolizing that wanting inrush of potency towards the creation of kin. Or to what id expect it to be in reality. Those glowing red cheeks. Mmmnn. Theres nothing more beautiful.

So i was watching some gay porn just the other day and, i felt bad for the bitch. Poor guy. So i went and jerked off to a hot russian getting banged in a sports bar toilet stall.

Well think im just going to start smoking whole cigarettes now and stop ripping them in half, so the girl has less reason to swoon over me. Hate being psychic like that. Since her nature is like that. She locks on to a small detail of something that isnt up to standard or whatever and goes obsessive. Seek and destroy based on her own delusional egotistic set. But. Everything i do is wrong and over agrandized. Its like they all pretend to be my mother. While others do the same. Its on’y a problem if its coming from me. Hows its always been. Time to eeupt. Hurt me some more. Whole other around do worse. Yup. Thats life.

Oh no i no i daid atupid. Time to start freaking the fuck out in bits of over energized destruction! « Hey mom can we” ehat! I said can we…? What?! I said can we? Ehat?! I dont understand you! Blag blah blah. Ok start beating in my face. Sorry i suggested soemthig helpful and posiitve. Oh well, guessnom never talking to you again even ifbit was a life of seath situation. You would listen anyway. Just beat on me some more. While playing to good christian. To all the girls and boys. Fuck off.

Not allowed to escape that reality by the maneuverings of other people. Im here for the sole purpose of being fucked. Laways was. There is no such thing as justice in life. Only punishment. Theres bothign to learn in life except not to try. “Shouldn’t we try to fix this family? Maybe go see a family therapist?” Oh yeah right. No one else cares. You wouldnt even send me to thearapy to save my life. Why did i try?

Your all fucken dead to me. The only differenve i dont go out of my way to fuck your lives. And gere i am 39 years later still being raped by existance. Its all its ever been. Nothing to learn. No wag to grow. Just the same bs from others. The way its alway been. I do t want to be alive anymore. All life does is fuck with me by criminal minds. Unyilnyou lose your sanity and then get fucked some more vause theres actually a good excuse this time. Hahahahahha the world Always sides with evil. There’s noyhing in life for me and theres nothing to do. Dint really have much choice in the matter, being abused into suicide.

While i spend my days serounded by the corrupt, the criminal, the degenerates, the effeminate, the violent and the brains washed gay’s. God forbid if i rather not spend soemtime with members the opposite sex or the proactive masculine.

Now excuse i have to go get high for breakfast and waste the day. Its ok. Im used to it. 25 years and counting. And excuse me if i have flair ups soemtimes. Its alot of pressure. While i wait for yhe first aid training and possibly the organization of health and saftey. After all i may need to save your fucken lives one day. Yay!

A wise serpent without a dove isn’t very gentel now is it?

What?! Sorry i capuld hear you you spoke at the same time as the crows. All i heard was “Caw! Caw! Caw!” Oh, we’re going to be partnering up? Awh…… no. Considering you’re relying on a drug dealer to drive you home everyday. And thats the guy i get paired with. Well either that of the “dipshit” as everyone calls them. Talking about gays and dildos, and sagitarian rape court case and a pimp civic under various trafgic violations whom doesnt take working seriously? Uhm. The gay guy, the criminal, or the combination of the two? Uhm, well, i lose. While i get sexually harassed by a “22” year old whith a similar sounding name as the lygbbq organization that continued suggestion i was a cocksucker after i repeatedly asked her to stop. Durring 2022… ok. Sure why not. What door number is that. The exit door number 22? What is that the fireextinguisher convineently olaced next to the males washroom? Exinguisher number what? 22? What? My ninimum credit payment is what? 22? At the same time as they pulled this shit? Ok.

Am i supposed to learn somethign here? Or is my spyche getting drastically raped by evil? What card is number 22? Nothing by the tarot. Maybe the fool. Maybe the world card. Maybe that magically missing number 22. In the typewritter its thr star card. A naked woman pooring out the spirit. The bestowment of a hope to meet the dream. Passivity to the reception from the collective.

Im not allowed to have a life free from captivity and malicious influences. Why try? I literally don’t know anything else. They’r eproba ly just framing me up to spend the second half of my life in prison.

Om now the small buzz in bottoming and i think my coffe is wearing out. Think i beed to go take a nap.

If one used the wheel. Thinking astrologically. As the twelve seasons. Then thr minor arcana would all occupy a quarter season. The four A-1’s place in the center of the circle facing out. On yhe wheel. One is traveling up. While the current is pulling down faster then one can move. Is consistent the lunar/solar cross sections with that of a serpent. While one swims agaisnt the current, one will only slow the final destination. Until one circles around the circle to the last quarter of fears and dreads, now helplessly trying to swim away from it. Creating this complex based upon repression of lies and delusions as the explanation. To the coming fate. I hate astrology. A fear. And the will to not accept whats (not really) inevitable. Give in to the lie. For when one passes that descendant point the half way. One tries to swim for that balance. Towards the 6th card of the lovers. But, its a lost cause. While one is helplessly being pulled away from it.

… the right side of the circle is comprised of the wands to swords. The left side coins to cups. The angles are A’s and each zodiac house is assigned three cards. The semi-square angle holds a conflict card. The left side of the circle is the individual. Number one. He is surrounded by life affirming cards and accomplishments hard work and discipline. And the bounty of a happy home life is where it ends. One can rise to career or descend to the self and family. Resources ideals, dreams accomplished. On the right side of the chart is all the bad. A relationship to bs. Starts with a desire to leave home. See the world have fun with friends. And where one has to pay the penalty for being alive. It’s pretty depressing. As all things tarot. Which is here shown by the split natures of white and black both cancer and Capricorn share.

Maybe since there’s already an arian plan in opperation all future arians are forced down and oppressed from any divergence. Which isnt set and bound for them to attend. Mostly its just a trophy. Good’lad heres a loolly pop. There’s only death and sorrow if you go any further. Better save it for the militant going on and beyond the capricorn point. To death and war.

So when doing a reading with the minor. Its best to see where in the zodiac it is placed and see what planets are aspecting those degrees. The self then has an added layer of information that isnt neccesarly allocated to “fate”. One then takes the major arcana and plug in the proper card to the appropriete number based on cyclic repetition. Thats what a circle is. The only problem here is that circles are only found in nature in the form of pulses. A ripple in water. The ring of a tree. Its never singular. Beyond that of the sun and the moon. Or a bubble. Circles are never still. Always in motion. Growing outward until it fades. Relying on that drop in its center.

Now the minor arcana is paired to a planet and to a major arcana. Precision grows more clear. Complexity adds reaction. And the star card always fallows the threat, and violence. Which may lead into a world of metal illnesses. As the child tries to distract it’s attention into something else, for the violence goes counter to its well being. Creating a world of delusions and retractions from the world. Adopting a passivity to action. And further reception to something more pleasing. It being a dream. These conditioned dreams based from the collective reception of information, all gets poured into the same cup. There’s no segregation, no separation. One becomes what it is being fed. A desire to do good. And a motivation to be receptive. Like i said. Theres nothign to learn in life. There’s just punishment. Fromoutsode violebce while it being twisted as an echo to be villainized by. Where the origin of the destructive acts take a place of innocence. On and on. From time memorial. Do now the next moon card comes in and the one is screaming at the world. Causing a ruckus. Howling at the moon. To be futher punished by the “good”. Or to praying to god for salvation, or getting shitfaced drunk or using other intoxicants. Which are made abundant and always is easy reach. From time memorial. Cant even be int he seclusion of solitude. Without it. Sorry mom i’m smoking my brothers pot i found hidden behind my poster. In the same room im forces to share with him. Eith this dominant pluto opposition aspect. Fun fun. And well the world as shown me profusly that im just a bitch. Nothigs changed.

What i got an attitude problem needing correction?! No thats ok. Ill a nother beating after they just jumpednon my face. Ok. Sire why not.

Hey! Ho. Stop tellign at your daughter! Your other one detaching from reality right noe becaus eof it. No! I font want to sleep woth you. You have a boyfriend. Fuck off. Stop insisting.

God dames women stop being sexually suggestive! Im trying to socialize jesus! If i wanted to see you naked id just go watch some poor they’re way hotter than you. And if that was the case. I aint no single stand. Cant sleep eoth you even if i wanted to if i don’tt know what im dicking. Kind of hard to enjoy. Maybe the lesson here , Is that i should. Hey stranger. You got a pretty mouth. Wanna fuck? Why you making it sexual for. Now im turned off.

It’s fun to play with power words like this.

God

The son the father and the Holy Ghost.

Draw out the chariot! Move!

Careful what you eat.

-I expect there to be a top qualité Asian movie involving a dove and a dragon coming out. Hopefully it won’t be toO fif.

And thé on l’y appropriate letter to assign to infinity is temperance. Letter R. Not of it directly. But as the minusculed r. Becoming EFr. But this is a new area for me. So I don’ know. The minuscule R serves quite well as temperance’s white dove wings.

DEF as mother, son and father. As the 0-5 card speaks for itself. Def., equals absolute. A definite act. From nothign. O. If one extends on this the holy ghost as the emperors foundation is balances by the empresses dragon/devil card.

As E moves into F. F moves into the equalavent of a capitalized minuscule sembling letter r. Above and beyond that, one finds a straight line. Resembling the capital i as the sun and the minusculed L of the hermit. Or as the number 1 and another journey.

I cleaned her up, coloured her in and her prettier her’d up while, she did the laundry. 14-18

Though it becomes curious when one stops and writes. BRP and again it shows symbolism in motion.

- Doesn't this card just say R. The mirrored angle for the water is neat.

Chicken and the egg and all that. Temperance. On the study of letters.

[thecousinsdangereux]

fic preview: over the wide skies up above (and the earth below)

Pairing: Blake/Yang (RWBY)

Playlist: On Spotify

Notes: This is a preview of a thing that I may or may not be something I actually finish post ski!au. Basically, it’s all for @twelveclara who wanted a Greek Gods AU. You’re lucky I adore you, you dumb bitch. I’ll fix this up and write more for you some day. Happy birthday. <3

                                                           — 

She was picking flowers: roses, crocus, and beautiful violets. Up and down the soft meadow. Iris blossoms too she picked, and hyacinth. And the narcissus, which was grown as a lure for the flower-faced girl by Gaia. All according to the plans of Zeus. She was doing a favor for the one who receives many guests. It was a wondrous thing in its splendor. To look at it gives a sense of holy awe to the immortal gods as well as mortal humans. It has a hundred heads growing from the root up. Its sweet fragrance spread over the wide skies up above. And the earth below smiled back in all its radiance. So too the churning mass of the salty sea

[From the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, translated by Gregory Nagy]

                                                            —

They meet on a Sunday morning, on the first day of Winter, under a cloudy and snow-filled sky.

It’s a collision only barely avoided; she swerves, but the white petals still brush against her cheek, sticking out every which way and thus not as easily dodged as the form carrying them (barreling around the corner without any particular concern or hesitation). The juxtaposition hardly stops there, because the resulting stream of expletives feels in direct opposition to what follows it: an apology that —  when directed at her — sounds soft and familiar, despite the lingering profanities.  

The thought doesn’t make any sense, but she hardly has time to consider its meaning when it first hits her; it’s quickly followed by a scent — floral and strong and overwhelming — that hits just as hard, turns the world over on itself, shifts the seasons, melts the ice around them. 

“Shit, sorry! I’ve got so many of these fucking things that I can barely see and I’ve got to get them to the greenhouse in like five minutes and I’m really running late and are you okay?” 

The flowers — she can see them more clearly now: long-stemmed and white with a brilliant yellow center ringed in red — obscure most of the woman’s face. But her long blonde hair spills outside of the boundaries of the dozens of stems barely contained to the two large buckets she holds in front of her chest. Blake finds herself briefly distracted again (distracted from a distraction), this time by the looping curls, the different colors of gold that glint among the strands despite the overcast skies. But then the woman shifts, trying to see around the stems, and with the movement, a new wave of the scent hits her and it’s all she can think about again. 

“What is that?” 

“What’s what?” The woman laughs and finally pokes her head through the flowers. The bright smile that appears is one that Blake cannot differentiate from the first bloom of Spring. “You mean like, the daffodils or — whoa.” 

She can’t pinpoint the reason for the change, but something makes the woman’s eyes (the color of the sky at 5:30 am in the middle of June) widen when they first meet Blake’s. The surprise steals her smile, but it returns almost immediately, stronger than before. 

“Whoa,” she says again. “Where have you been?” 

Blake’s a college freshman — one who got a fake ID at 16 and has been to frat parties and bars and clubs — and so she’s heard the line before (or something like it, ‘all my life’ tacked on at the end), but she’s never heard anyone say it like this woman does. The emphasis is in the wrong spot, the tone out of place, the emotion behind it incomprehensible. 

(Stranger than all that, her instantaneous thought — one she only just keeps from escaping her own lips — is waiting for you.) 

“I — what?” she says instead. 

“It’s the day before Christmas break! I’ve been here all semester and I’ve never seen you before. It’s not that big of a school. So, like, where have you been?” 

The girl shifts her cargo to the side — as though to give herself a better view — and the warm leather of her coat, the soft wool around the collar, belong on her frame as much as the dark gold belongs around her neck (a woven scarf, color deeper than her hair). 

“Not in the greenhouse,” Blake settles on. “I didn’t know we had one.” 

“Yeah, I could have guessed that.” 

It comes with a laugh and Blake’s not sure whether to be offended or not, but the woman quickly continues, before Blake can settle on any one expression.

“The Botany program is pretty small. Not too many people other than us visit the far field, let alone the Greenhouse.”

“Botany?” It’s not what she expects, but it feels right. 

(Blake’s not sure how she knows what feels right. But she doesn’t question it either.)

“Yeah. Plants are sort of my thing.” The girl lifts one of the buckets as though to prove her point, and Blake is once again reminded. 

“Yeah. What are those? They smell — ”

(Perfect. Like something she’s been searching for.) 

“Really good right?” She laughs again; a breeze, but one strong enough to bend the trunks of trees. “Yeah, people use it in perfumes all the fucking time. But I think I like the pure version of it best.” Leaning forward, the woman tips the bucket in Blake’s direction, allowing her to get another whiff. “Poet’s Daffodil. Narcissus poeticus, if you’d be into me showing off.” 

She’s leaning in, breathing in deep, but her surprise at the name is such that it nearly sends her rocking off balance and crashing face-first into the delicate stems.

“Oh, you are into me showing off.” The woman shifts again, but the flowers can’t obscure the brightness of her grin. “Hold on, let me take some notes for future reference. Is it the Latin, foreign languages in general, or the vast depth of knowledge that does it for you?” 

“No, I — ” Blake barely recognizes the laugh that escapes from her own lips. “No, it’s just. I’ve never seen it before. The flower version of Narcissus, I mean. But I’ve read about it a hundred times. The man, at least.” 

The woman’s head tilts in thought, but her expression clears quickly.

“Mythology nerd, huh?”

“Classics major.” 

“Oh, super mythology nerd.” She tips the bucket forward again. One of the flowers slides against Blake’s cheek. “You better take one then. You can show it off to all your friends. Spin it however you like. Something like, you got a mythological flower from a mythological girl.” She pauses. “Okay that didn’t actually make sense, I don’t think. I meant like, you got a flower from a goddess. Because I’m like -- uh, I dunno -- what’s the hottest goddess?” 

“The last person who answered that question got into an awful lot of trouble, in the end,” Blake quips, but finds her smile aches. (She also finds she has an immediate answer, though it’s not one of the three that Paris had to consider in the contest that lead to such trouble for the Greeks and Trojans both.)

“I think I remember the basics of that one. How about you take the flower and my number instead of a golden apple and we’ll skip the bad ending.” 

It’s sudden, but it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like Blake’s been waiting for a while. 

“Forward,” she says despite all that, because it’s almost as though she has to. As though there are steps to take that she’s not allowed to skip, lest she upset a balance she wasn’t aware existed before now. 

It’s a dramatic thought; she’d laugh at herself if — when she reaches into the bucket to grasp one of the stems — she didn’t feel the world sigh in relief.  

“I’ve never really seen the point of wasting time.” The woman shrugs, tone and words light, but only in the same sort of way (required, practiced lines). “There’s just not enough of it.” 

“You sound like you’re a hundred years old and on your deathbed,” Blake laughs, but oh, her heart is clenching. And she’s taking out her phone. She’s making a new contact. She’s already thinking about the first time she’ll text this woman and she doesn’t even know her name. 

(There isn’t enough time. Somehow, she agrees, and that makes her want to get all of it in now, while she has a chance.)

“Or I’m someone who is very late in dropping off some daffodils that don’t really like the cold much. Even if I have a very valid excuse in wanting to stick around.” She pulls away with several long strides backwards; it seems genuinely regretful, but she brightens a little, seeing the flower clutched in one of Blake’s hands (and her phone in the other). “818-815-6247. Let me know if you want to see the greenhouse. Or tell me about the prettiest goddess. Or do anything at all.” 

She takes another step back and Blake nods twice, before realizing she’s missing something. 

“Wait! I’m — ” It comes out sounding a little more desperate than she would have liked, but then, the woman turns back towards her quickly enough for a single petal to fall off of one of of the flowers, so maybe pretenses aren’t really something either of them are concerning themselves with. “I don’t know your name.” 

“Yang.” It’s not the name she expects, but it slides into place easily enough. 

“Blake.” (Somehow, that’s not the name she expects either, even though it’s her own.) “I’ll text you. Call you. Soon.” 

“Good.” She catches another flash of that smile before Yang turns away. “And I’ll be waiting. Or —  trying to. I’ve never been very patient, though you’d think I would have learned by now.” 

“A lot of practice?” Blake calls after her, takes a step towards her (doesn’t notice). 

“Too much, I think.” Her laugh carries, blonde curls whip in the wind as she walks off. “So try to have mercy on me this time.”

Afterwards, she smells of daffodils (of dark green leaves, of a meadow that stretches on and on and on, of mint and hay and dirt and weeds and the whole of spring), as though it’s coming from her pores rather than the flower she places in a small glass on her nightstand. The scent persists through showers and nights out and all the smells that come with living in a coed freshman dorm. It lasts for days (or eons) and stretches back in time, too; she finds it tucked away in memories where it has no place, couldn’t possibly exist. 

(She’s five and her mom takes her to pick blueberries, she’s fourteen on a field trip to the botanical gardens, she’s seventeen and trying to find a perfume that suits her, she’s nineteen and stepping out of her late night Byzantine history seminar. And it’s there — it’s always there — just out of reach: the field over, the next flower, a slightly different perfume, a whiff on the wind that she chases across campus for ten minutes before giving up.)  

(She’s older — ageless — and she doesn’t recognize herself, but it’s there too.) 

The scent of flowers lingers and Blake doesn’t mind. 

She also texts Yang before it can begin to fade.

—

They first meet on Helios’s Day, on the morning of the vernal equinox, under a bright and clear sky.

She watches from behind the treeline, but even from a distance, it’s obvious, the way the ground rises to greet her when the woman walks past: stalks lengthening, flowers unfolding, grass brightening into a more vibrant shade of green with each step she takes. The world is in bloom and it follows the unspoken instructions of only one creature that roams its face. 

Hesitation is not a trait often associated with the gods, but the god of the underworld feels it now, unwilling to interrupt the celebration that the very Earth seemingly wishes to partake in, but desiring it all the same. She is used to the damp, dark coolness of the world below, and the sun always seems beats down with an unfamiliar and uncomfortable heat, but today it feels indomitable and irresistible. 

Today, she wants to step out into the light. 

Vines wrap around her as soon as she does — nothing binding or restrictive, but welcoming — a soft touch that greets her in time with the smile of the one who controls them. She does not appear surprised at the intrusion, nor displeased, but when she walks closer and white flowers — fragrant and familiar — spring up all around them, certainty sprouts as well. 

“The receiver of many guests. Giver of good counsel. It’s not often we see you up here.” The tone is teasing, different from what she typically hears, and it warms her cheeks, places a shade of color there that others would not recognize. (She barely recognizes it in herself.) “What have you come to the surface for?” 

She has an answer to the question, but it’s an honest one, not one she typically gives freely. 

She gives it freely now.  

“Sometimes, I miss being around things that are alive.” 

The goddess doesn’t belittle when she responds — though her smile stays playful — like so many others would. 

“I may be able to help you with that.” 

The ground shifts again and one of the flowers at her feet lifts, stem lengthening to four times what would be natural, until it’s sliding between her fingers, depositing itself in her palm, releasing itself from the Earth when she lifts it to her nose and breathes deep. 

“Everything dies when I go below,” she says softly, and with regret. 

“Not this.” 

She stares into the goddess’s eyes (crocus, monkshood, bellflower, wisteria, lilac) and believes her words, impossible though they are. 

“I’m Kore.” The name doesn’t quite suit her, though the king of the underworld had known it before now. “You should call on me whenever you want to feel something that is alive.” 

“And what if I feel that always?” 

Kore laughs. The whole of the clearing blooms. 

“Then you should call on me always, Hades. Whenever you please.”

—

There’s no need for any pretense. No desire for it, besides.

They graduate from text to voice quickly — within the span of a week —  and when Blake calls, Yang answers on the first ring. When Blake asks if she wants to hang out, Yang rattles off seven different options without pause. 

(“I’ve been thinking about what we should do together since we first met,” Yang says, not really an admission, not when the truth is so easily accessible.

“That was four days ago,” Blake feels she has to add, but Yang just laughs.)

Yang — without flowers blocking her face — is more beautiful than anything Blake’s ever seen. It’s more than the sharp cut of her jaw or the muscles of her forearm or the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles; Yang is attractive and anyone would agree, but it’s more than that. (Something curls in Blake’s stomach and settles in place at the sight, roots growing quick and deep.) And maybe it’s more for Yang too, because her expression — when Blake steps into view, climbing up over the crest of the hill that marks the start of the far field  — holds more than Blake can measure. 

College is strange, and the relationships formed within it, stranger still. She’d met Sun at a freshmen karaoke mixer that she’d been dragged to by her roommate, and in the span of a few hours, they’d gone through every stage of a relationship imaginable: strangers (the awkward first meet), rivals (when he and Ilia had picked the same song and Blake had been dragged along in solidarity), possible partners (when mixer had become unofficial and the alcohol had come out), and (finally) best friends (when the awkward flirtation and intoxication was behind them).   

But this — Yang taking her hand and leading her towards the greenhouse — is different, and that must be apparent to both of them, because Yang hardly looks surprised when Blake doesn’t step away, even once they’re inside. 

“Why botany?” Blake asks, tone softer than the question merits.

Yang’s lips curl and Blake gets caught on the corner like it’s a hook; she wants to press her fingers against the indent, and then do the same with her mouth.   

“I like making things grow. Wherever I go.” Her smile is unabashed, even when she continues. “Cheesy, I know. But I like making things come alive.”

(Blake thinks of vines growing in places they shouldn’t be able to, thinks of flowers sprouting from the cracks in pavement, thinks of the roots of trees spilling out over and digging into rock. She thinks — most of all — of Yang’s hands on all of them and on her as well, a different sort of challenge that Yang never took as such.) 

“It’s not cheesy it’s — “ As she searches for the word, Yang’s gaze does something similar with the planes of her face (searching, though Blake doesn’t think she finds what she’s looking for, and finds herself coming up similarly short). “ —  sincere? Earnest?” She shakes her head; neither are quite right. “Whatever it is, the world needs more of it.” 

The honesty doesn’t sound as sweet coming from her lips, but Yang doesn’t appear to mind. She smiles again, wider this time, and the plants around them pulse with a soft sigh, a tangible exhale of oxygen. And when Yang walks along the rows -- running her fingers gently along the leaves and petals and stalks -- when she speaks each of their names, Blake could swear the vegetation leans into her touch. 

The thought is less strange when coupled with her own: that she wants to do much of the same. 

She searches for patience, then. 

She’s had practice with it too. 

(She used to have more of it.) 

—

She doesn’t last long. 

But then, how could she? 

Only a week later, one of Yang’s friends throws a back-to-school party and Blake gets pulled along, as seems to be the new trend. 

(“It’s weird,” Yang says, much in the same way she always does, with a grin lighting her face. “She’s normally a lot more particular about her guest list.”) 

There’s alcohol waiting for them as soon as they walk in, and they each throw back a shot before moving any further, though the (surprisingly) fancy cocktail Blake picks up shortly after is one that she nurses for the rest of the night, at least until her hands find better uses. 

Yang’s hands find them more quickly than Blake’s; she’s tactile and gregarious and fun and she touches people as she greets them, throughout conversations, when she says goodbye. But she touches Blake most of all: her hand on the small of her back, her fingers threading through the hair that rests at the nape of her neck, her chin resting on Blake’s shoulder. 

It builds and builds and there’s not enough time and so Blake reaches down, tugs on Yang’s hand and pulls her outside. It feels like the only place they can be — tucked into the corner of the balcony of Yang’s friend’s lavish apartment with the night sky overhead — when she kisses her. 

There’s no surprise in the action, but there’s plenty of everything else. 

(Blake considers all the Greek words for affection, for feeling, for lust, for every form of love known to the poets, and disregards them all.) 

Her lipstick is dark, and it’s smeared over Yang’s mouth when she pulls back (later — that night and in the upcoming weeks and months and years — she’ll find it in other places: Yang’s neck, her thighs, her sheets). The stains Yang leaves is of a different sort, but Blake first notices it in the taste left on her lips. She runs her tongue along it, brow pinching in thought, and Yang laughs as she watches her try to figure it out. 

“Pomegranate,” she explains. “It’s the lip balm.” 

Blake can’t see how that accounts for all of it and kisses her again, just to be sure.

—

The first time they kiss, the world springs into revelry.

The humans flourish under the bountiful harvest; their yields triple, they write songs about the season, they throw feasts without excuse, and each of the gods benefit from an upsurge of tributes, from the smallest villages to the largest city-states. 

She hardly notices. 

Instead, she focuses on memorizing the way Kore tastes. 

 —

She meets a boy in her Ancient Greek Lit class, finds his translation of the first line of the Odyssey to be interesting. The word polytropos, he argues, should be taken as an active description; Odysseus is not controlled but in control of his fate. ‘Sing to me, Muse, of a compelling man; sing through me the story of a man who could shape the world around him’, the boy writes, and Blake gets caught on the intensity in his expression as he reads it, is taken by his confidence and passion (forgets to argue against the lengthiness and the clear liberties he takes). 

He greets her after class, suggests they study together sometime, and that’s what Yang finds them doing a couple days later, tucked away in a corner of the library, pouring over words translated a thousand times, Adam finding a way to disagree with every previous version of them. Yang slides into the conversation and the seat next to Blake without needing to be invited, her warm smile at ease even when Adam switches to Greek, speaks fast and condescending. 

“Well I don’t know anything about any of that,” Yang says easily. “But Blake told me that myths were supposed to be enjoyed by everyone, right? That they were passed on from generation to generation, like bedtime songs or campfire stories. Seems like getting all wordy and pretentious doesn’t really fit that idea, right?” She smiles, and Blake’s gaze shifts towards it, away from the clear ire in Adam’s eyes. “I’d go with Blake’s version.”

In the hour they’d been at the table, Blake hadn’t offered her own translation (hadn’t been asked), but it’s scribbled there, within the margins of the pages of printed out Greek, and Yang’s fingers brush against the pen strokes as she leans in, their shoulders brushing against each other. 

“Tell me about a complicated man,” Blake reads, voice soft. 

“Yeah.” Yang nods and completely ignores Adam’s glare. Blake finds doing the same to be easy, his magnetism fading away, swept aside by stronger forces. “Sometimes you’ve got to admit that something like that can’t be totally summed up in a word or even in a sentence. There’s something kind of beautiful about that too — I think — admitting the complexity in such a simple way.”

“I… think so too.”  

Adam doesn’t last for much longer, quickly tiring of not being the center of attention. He slams his books shut and shoves his chair out with force when he stands and Blake can’t remember what it was about him that appealed to her in the first place.

“I don’t like him,” Yang says after he leaves, a simple declaration as she steals a sip from Blake’s water bottle.

Blake blinks. Considers. “Yeah. I don’t think I’ll be studying with him again.” 

And she doesn’t. 

(It’s not normally that easy, she thinks, later on, and isn’t sure what she means by that at all.)

—

The humans tell tales about them, before their story is finished. 

Time is odd like that when you are immortal and infinite. Beginnings and ends and middles get jumbled in a way that they never do for those who have a life to live in a linear manner.  

It starts small: maidens whispering to each other, children making up rhymes, mothers telling stories to put their daughters to sleep. There’s a soft reverence in these traditions, and though she does not catalog the words they use, she picks up on the meaning. It settles in her chest — the warmth of it — different from the sort that presses at her heart when Kore is near, but significant in a distinct way. 

The tales change over time, warped by the teller and the listener alike, move further from the truth. But the humans could hardly know of the color of Kore’s hair, the tone of her skin, the color of her eyes, and what did it matter when the genders were confused or the courtship was pressed into a single day? The meaning persisted, the good intentions enough to sate the both of them. 

The stories lengthen, turn into poems, turn into songs, turn into performances, turn into epics. And one day Hermes tells them — amusement in his voice — that they have started to record them, to actually write them down.

But they carry on, much in the same way. 

What harm could human words -- written or no -- have on the lives of the gods?

[lucytara]

please have a tour of mine and @thecousinsdangereux‘s beautiful home in the apocalyptic zombie-ridden world of 7 days to die

[gideonsuggestions]

honestly when I see someone shipping julie w someone that isn't gideon, it doesn't feel like they actually care about julie, it just feels like they want her paired up with someone else so gideon can yaoi out. which is like, fine, whatever, but I like julie. I care abt her. julie and kyle have been my rarepair of choice since 2021. ken is their gay bestie. they just have such a "you're the only bitch in this entire world who can handle me" thing going on and I cherish it

julie isn't evil, she's like, mean at most. gideon is a serial abuser, stalker, and kidnapper, and I know it's not that serious given the tone of scott pilgrim, but spto just does... nothing with it

his sad meow meow arc added nothing to his character. JULIE should have been the pathetic one. she is the definition of a pathetic woman. she is not "girlboss", she has a massive inferiority complex that kept her in a mutually toxic and unhappy relationship and drives her to surround herself with cool women in hopes of making herself look cool by association. her bitchy attitude is a deflection. she is so insecure. I mean, my girl was jealous of knives chau. not even ramona was jealous of knives, and scott actually DID cheat on them

julie has incredibly low self-esteem

I don't think her and stephen were ever in love, I just think that he made julie feel wanted. she feels unlovable and worthless, so she pushes everyone away, and stephen just happens to be the one that comes back. I haven't read the books in a while but stephen's attitude towards julie felt pretty apathetic, and it's not a stretch to assume that he was using her to avoid coming to terms with being gay. it's like, SO toxic but I can't blame either of them. julie just wants to feel secure and stephen is in the closet. julie takes out her frustrations at herself on others in an attempt to push them away, and stephen is lying to himself, which hurts them both

I am sympathetic towards both of them but they were mutually shitty and no I don't think julie deserves to be treated as evil as gideon for that actually. especially when stephen is treated like a martyr

I can't imagine how the final breakup went. much different from the previous ones, no doubt, but I don't think of the specifics. does stephen tell her he's gay? does he just say he's met someone else? is seeing someone else? is it mutual?

we know that julie moves to quebec sometime after they break up. it's not specified why. but I imagine the breakup with the one person who kinda tolerated her was not easy on her. she probably felt used. worthless, again. just tired of trying

so, she did the "cool girl" thing and left. ramona style, you know?

I can imagine gideon with julie but not julie with gideon. it mirrors ramona and gideon's relationship, so, like ramona and gideon, unless both of them went through some interesting character development, I just couldn't see it lasting. someone should write a fic about that, I'd read it

but yeah. julie is pathetic, insecure, attention-seeking, and self-destructive. she acts like a cold bitch to drive people away, and is consistently lonely because of it. a relationship with gideon, who is, by all means, egotistical, cold, and distant, would be so terrible for both of them

the reason I like her and the katayanagis' friendship, despite how little we know about them, is because they are loyal. they've already gone through the development that it would take gideon to have a healthy relationship with julie, they've already had their shitty boyfriend phase and have left it as better people, honestly. they have a great bond with each other, and they could so easily adopt julie into their friendship! it's just...

secure

the katayanagis, to me, aren't really evil. the worst they do is kidnap kim and that doesn't even hold a CANDLE to gideon. their hatred of ramona is justified, and at worst they're petty... but for good reason, imo

I feel like it'd be so good for julie to incline towards them because she sees them as cool people who will, again, make her cool by association, and then it turns out they're these dramatic robotics nerds who just have a fashion sense and a theatrical flair. cause that's so what they are. to me

so now julie is forced to hang out with these weirdo uptight geeks, and it's sooo good for her. they all go shopping together. they bitch and gossip. they complain about how their exes used them. they are so close and committed and loyal cause God knows they'd never let a bitch tear them apart ever again. the katayanagis are so "it's not me vs you, it's us vs the problem" yknow? I think they'd understand her. they could love her right. kyle picks outfits for her. you see my vision.

idrc about julie and gideon but bryan lee omalley going to hell for robbing me of the katayanagi and julie dynamic

[longelk]

im relistening to TMA and ive realized how nicely it could work as an AU for scryption.. the power struggle between the entities trying to reshape the world to their liking is very reminiscent of the scrybes trying to take control & alter the game & all the endless cycles of torture and everything lol

just putting these ideas in my back pocket : )