#insanest ship of all time i love it

[nsuyeula]

A, C, G, T, V

Here we go boi's

A - Ships that you currently like a lot.

Obviously we have Shaunahat right up there at the moment - those two have me in the insanest chokehold known to mankind.

Before that though, I got smacked right in the face with the fact I was sleeping on Renora from RWBY after relistening to the entire soundtrack again when it returned to Spotify. Nora who has always confidently displayed her love growing to hate herself and Ren realises far to late that he loves her for everything she is, is just peak angst potential and I can't believe it took me four-five years after V8 aired to realise it.

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will.

I'm pretty new to Yellowjackets so there isn't any relationship dynamic that is a hard no for me. All have potential to me and have an interesting element that's worth exploring.

Off the top of my head, I think one of the few ships I just never could bring myself to like is Keith and Lance from Voltron. Don't get me wrong, I consume the fanart bc some really great artists I adore made art for them. But to me they were always this really good rivalry to mutual respect to friendship dynamic and I never saw it as more then that, particularly when Lance had a canon romance with Allura and Shiro & Keith had a far more interesting history and dynamic imo. Final nail for me tho was the yelling of queerbating by some fans after the show ended. Obnoxious fans will put me off any ship, especially when they yell queerbating about a show with a canon queer character, because it's not the character or ship they specially wanted.

G - Have you ever had an OTP? If so, do you remember your first one? Who was in it?

This answer makes me cringe in shame, but also, these two are my roman empire. It's just hard to explain to people who've not played the entirety of the Final Fantasy XIII trilogy why Hope and Lightning aren't actually super problematic.

Bare with me bc this involves a lot of time travel nonsense.

Game One - Lightning is 21, Hope is 14. Whole mentor and student thing going on, helping one another heal from trauma and breaking out of their shells.

Game Two - Lightning is still 21 because she's trapped in the death realm protecting the goddess of death. Time doesn't exist there. Hope is 27 and is trying to save all of humanity in an attempt to save his friend and, by extension, Lightning.

Game Three - Lightning is still 21, was frozen in crystal for 500 years. Hope is 527 after the death realm and the real world merge, and was tortured for several decades / maybe a century or two by a God who specially makes him hallucinates Lightning to get him to break mentally and physically regress to his teen body in order to become a vessel for said God. In the end, after Lightning saves everyone's soul, Hope saves hers, and they are reborn into the new world, and the creator's confirm Hope gets his adult body back.

CAN YOU SEE WHY THIS GETS DIFFICULT TO EXPLAIN TO PEOPLE NOT FAMILIAR WITH THE FRANCHISE! Most these two's interactions happen when Hope is or looks 14. Unlike my teen self who didn't know better, I only ship Game 2 & 3 Hoperai nowadays. But what is even more funny is these two are treated like the offical couple for this entry in the Final Fantasy franchise (there is always one) by JP fans WHEN THERE IS ALREADY AN ACTUAL CANON ONE. That's the power of these two lmao.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? 

I'll stick to Yellowjackets for this one.

I fully believe that Shauna is suffering from Dissociation - specifically Depersonalization - even before she crashed out in the Wilderness and before she developed postpartum psychosis.

I headcanon she has a warped sense of self, very disconnected from her identity and emotions. Lives in a haze if you will. Her love and obsession with Jackie, her trying to become Jackie, and have what Jackie had was her way of masking her Depersonalization. Unable to connect with any identity of her own, Shauna took Jackie's and plastered it over herself to try and feel complete.

The postpartum psychosis and the rage it brings help Shauna break through the dissociation for a while, but when she returns to society, it takes over again, and that's how she ends up with Jeff.

Is it a little bit of projection bc I have a dissociative disorder? Maybe. But you cannot tell me Shauna wasn't suffering from some kind of complex metal health issue even before the crash, it's ingrained in her even before all the horrible trauma she goes through in the show.

V - Which character do you relate to most?

Kinda ties into the last question nicely - but Shauna.

She's someone who has never had no real identity, has suffered so much trauma, and finds herself falling into societal norms in an attempt to keep herself safe and wanted by people. Now, the trauma I've gone through is nothing compared to what's she's gone through, but I relate a lot to this idea of having this internal darkness you have to keep buried for the sake of those around you or for what is 'best'. It took me a long time to accept my Alters, and to accept their purpose in existing, but I have received a lot of pushback for their existance - especially from family - being told I need to manage my episodes better when they only happen when I'm pushed beyond my limit. A little too much TMI maybe, but just sorta offering insight into why I truly resonate with Shauna's character and can never villainse her the way others do.

[narvin]

for oc asks - 7, 22, 25, 27? any oc or all of them whatever u want :)

gotta go for sol bc they're the insanest <33

7. Describe them in three words. Now let them describe themself in three words.

i'd sayyy inquisitive, passionate, and willful. 5 would say quiet, utilitarian, and dogged. 6 would not be able to answer for a long time bc they have no understanding of their identity anymore <3

22. Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to?

i think they are just not a person that others look at and think of pet names. ferren has known them too long to bother and cassie isn't secure enough to try. they don't use pet names except that they call their tardis "ship" and "old girl" and "love" if no one's listening

25. Safety or possibility?

possibility for all, early lives because they've only ever known safety and later lives because they feel constantly unsafe regardless

27. Forgiveness or vengeance (or…)?

they are very much a vengeance type. they don't even try very hard to pretend otherwise. if they were put in dalek they would not stop torturing it i can tell you that much. they'd kill that thing with a hammer

[manwalksintobar]

First Elegy: Rotten Lake // Muriel Rukeyser

As I went down to Rotten Lake I remembered the wrecked season, haunted by plans of salvage, snow, the closed door, footsteps and resurrections, machinery of sorrow.

The warm grass gave to the feet and the stilltide water was floor of evening and magnetic light and reflection of wish, the black-haired beast with my eyes walking beside me.

The green and yellow lights, the street of water standing point to the image of that house whose destruction I weep when I weep you. My door (no), poems, rest, (don’t say it!) untamable need.

*

When you have left the river you are a little way nearer the lake; but I leave many times. Parents parried my past;the present was poverty, the future depended on my unfinished spirit. There were no misgivings because there was no choice, only regret for waste, and the wild knowledge: growth and sorrow and discovery.

When you have left the river you proceed alone; all love is likely to be illicit; and few friends to command the soul;they are too feeble. Rejecting the subtle and contemplative minds as being too thin in the bone;and the gross thighs and unevocative hands fail also. But the poet and his wife, those who say Survive, remain; and those two who were with me on the ship leading me to the sum of the years, in Spain.

When you have left the river you will hear the war. In the mountains, with tourists, in the insanest groves the sound of kill, the precious face of peace. And the sad frightened child, continual minor, returns, nearer whole circle, O and nearer all that was loved, the lake, the naked river, what must be crossed and cut out of your heart, what must be stood beside and straightly seen.

*

As I went down to Rotten Lake I remembered how the one crime is need. The man lifting the loaf with hunger as motive can offer no alibi, is always condemned.

These are the lines at the employment bureau and the tense students at their examinations; needing makes clumsy and robs them of their wish, in one fast gesture

plants on them failure of the imagination; and lovers who lower their bodies into the chair gently and sternly as if the flesh had been wounded, never can conquer.

Their need is too great, their vulnerable bodies rigidly joined will snap, turn love away, fear parts them, they lose their hands and voices, never get used to the world.

Walking at night, they are asked Are you your best friend’s best friend? and must say No, not yet, they are love’s vulnerable, and they go down to Rotten Lake hoping for wonders.

Dare it arrive, the day when weakness ends? When the insistence is strong, the wish converted? I prophesy the meeting by the water of these desires.

I know what this is, I have known the waking when every night ended in one cliff-dream of faces drowned beneath the porous rock brushed by the sea;

suffered the change : deprived erotic dreams to images of that small house where peace walked room to room and always with one face telling her stories,

and needed that, past loss, past fever, and the attractive enemy who in my bed touches all night the body of my sleep, improves my summer

with madness, impossible loss, and the dead music of altered promise, a room torn up by the roots, the desert that crosses from the door to the wall, continual bleeding,

and all the time that will which cancels enmity, seeks its own Easter, arrives at the water-barrier; must face it now, biting the lakeside ground; looks for its double,

the twin that must be met again, changeling need, blazing in color somewhere, flying yellow into the forest with its lucid edict: take to the world,

this is the honor of your flesh, the offering of strangers, the faces of cities, honor of all your wish. I say in my own voice. These prophecies may all come true,

out of the beaten season. I look in Rotten Lake wait for the flame reflection, seeing only the free beast flickering black along my side animal of my need,

and cry I want! I want! rising among the world to gain my converted wish, the amazing desire that keeps me alive, though the face be still, be still, the slow dilated heart know nothing but lack, now I begin again the private rising, the ride to survival of that consuming bird beating, up from dead lakes, ascents of fire.

(from A Turning Wind, 1939)

[romanticfistfightz]

long time later bc i sleep all the time now . but um as much as i love wtc (william truce ceres . wtc bc i dont have a good name for them also its funnie bc world trade center) i have to go with legin ..... iconic showstopping forever and ever the insanest ship ever. its leo my oc and ginger my besties oc and theyre loser idiots and we love to put them in situations we have a whole google doc with all the info and various aus we put them in . golden retriever idiot x loser gamer bf . perfect for each other . one bedroom apartment and the bedroom looks like this

are you by chance still awake bc i need to go insane abt my ocs to someone but need you to ask me some questions i can go insane about . its still about truce ceres and william btw

NOOO IM SORRY 💔💔💔💔 but im here now sooo. ok. uhhh. your fav relationship between your oc

[cuntstable]

i'd love to hear any of those ask game options that you feel like answering re: cr*tical r*le and/or da

TY!!!… also whoah….. cringe role…. thats a name i havent heard in a long time….. ill start with da though and keep it short because good lird the floodgates opened….

CULLEN… like he is extremly unlikable in dao (even outright creepy and disgusting) but like in da2 and inquisition hes really nothing to me. a shitty templar that goes through an unconvincing character redemption. whatever. but like the fans make soooo many excuses for him and for what…… can a white boy who let human rights violations happen under his watch still get woobified and called a golden retriever boyfriend? 🥺

the hill i will die on forever is that dragon age has some of the insanest craziest best video game yuri out there. like not a lot of it but whats there is god tier….. ISABELA AND MERRIL…… MORRIGAN AND LELIANA…… SIGRUN AND VELLANA….. even sera and dagna are cute. always more content for the yuri warriors please god. its lacking

anyway getting the non controversial da takes out or the way. i will never forgive cr for the beaujes war. ever!!! not the show itself. not the jester x fjord warriors and NEVER the caleb x jester. fans. that constantly tried to paint beaujes fans as toxic and over overbearing for…. celebrating a popular f/f ship. like i think beaujes was genuinely the nail in the coffin for being invested in shipping for me like NEVER AGAIN…….

anyways the build up and characterization for it was so good and interesting i stand by this, but the way they kneecapped it out of nowhere… for the most boring alternatives they did nothing with too…….. and the excuse of ”it was just lust”…. like not even giving it a proper send off…… yuri warriors lost that day genuinely. and the fans just rolling with it and the way the rest of the show went equally downhill from there…. its all just incredibly cursed but i guess i can thank cr for making me far more skeptical a jaded towards shows and fandoms LOL. never again will i buy into the hype for stories and character arcs that will not be delivered </3

[thelonguepuree]

First Elegy: Rotten Lake

As I went down to Rotten Lake I remembered the wrecked season, haunted by plans of salvage, snow, the closed door, footsteps and resurrections,           machinery of sorrow. The warm grass gave to the feet and the stilltide water was floor of evening and magnetic light and reflection of wish, the black-haired beast with my eyes           walking beside me. The green and yellow lights, the street of water standing point to the image of that house whose destruction I weep when I weep you. My door (no), poems, rest,           (don’t say it!) untamable need. * When you have left the river you are a little way nearer the lake;    but I leave many times. Parents parried my past;    the present was poverty, the future depended on my unfinished spirit. There were no misgivings because there was no choice, only regret for waste, and the wild knowledge: growth and sorrow and discovery. When you have left the river you proceed alone; all love is likely to be illicit;    and few friends to command the soul;    they are too feeble. Rejecting the subtle and contemplative minds as being too thin in the bone;    and the gross thighs and unevocative hands fail also.    But the poet and his wife, those who say Survive, remain; and those two who were with me on the ship leading me to the sum of the years, in Spain. When you have left the river you will hear the war. In the mountains, with tourists, in the insanest groves the sound of kill, the precious face of peace. And the sad frightened child, continual minor, returns, nearer whole circle, O and nearer all that was loved, the lake, the naked river, what must be crossed and cut out of your heart, what must be stood beside and straightly seen. * As I went down to Rotten Lake I remembered how the one crime is need.    The man lifting the loaf with hunger as motive can offer no alibi, is           always condemned. These are the lines at the employment bureau and the tense students at their examinations; needing makes clumsy and robs them of their wish,           in one fast gesture plants on them failure of the imagination; and lovers who lower their bodies into the chair gently and sternly as if the flesh had been wounded,           never can conquer. Their need is too great, their vulnerable bodies rigidly joined will snap, turn love away, fear parts them, they lose their hands and voices, never           get used to the world. Walking at night, they are asked Are you your best friend’s best friend? and must say No, not yet, they are love’s vulnerable, and they go down to Rotten Lake           hoping for wonders. Dare it arrive, the day when weakness ends? When the insistence is strong, the wish converted? I prophesy the meeting by the water           of these desires. I know what this is, I have known the waking when every night ended in one cliff-dream of faces drowned beneath the porous rock           brushed by the sea; suffered the change : deprived erotic dreams to images of that small house where peace walked room to room and always with one face           telling her stories, and needed that, past loss, past fever, and the attractive enemy who in my bed touches all night the body of my sleep,           improves my summer with madness, impossible loss, and the dead music of altered promise, a room torn up by the roots, the desert that crosses from the door to the wall,           continual bleeding, and all the time that will which cancels enmity, seeks its own Easter, arrives at the water-barrier; must face it now, biting the lakeside ground;           looks for its double, the twin that must be met again, changeling need, blazing in color somewhere, flying yellow into the forest with its lucid edict:           take to the world, this is the honor of your flesh, the offering of strangers, the faces of cities, honor of all your wish. I say in my own voice. These prophecies           may all come true, out of the beaten season. I look in Rotten Lake wait for the flame reflection, seeing only the free beast flickering black along my side           animal of my need, and cry I want!    I want!    rising among the world to gain my converted wish, the amazing desire that keeps me alive, though the face be still, be still, the slow dilated heart know nothing but lack, now I begin again the private rising, the ride to survival of that consuming bird beating, up from dead lakes, ascents of fire. — Muriel Rukeyser, from A Turning Wind (1939)