#my own little cyclical part of hell

[birinboom]

Me in my head every time a hyperfixation resurfaces:

🎶Mamma Mia, here I go again My, my, how can I resist you? Mamma Mia, does it show again My, my, just how much I've missed you?

Yes, I've been brokenhearted Blue since the day we parted Why, why did I ever let you go? Mamma Mia, now I really know My, my, I could never let you go🎶

[themoviemonopoly]

How Lil Z and Benny's Relationship Held a Lot of Romantic Undertones (IMO)

City of God is a criminal drama film from Brazil that was directed by Kátia Lund and Fernando Meirelles. It centers on the lives of a number of people living in Rio de Janeiro's slums, with special attention paid to Rocket, a young child who aspires to be a photographer. The brutal turf conflicts between gangs and the emergence of organized crime in the slum are depicted in the movie.

The story spans across several years as it tells the tale of how the aspiring photographer and all of the other residents living in the slums connect with one another. Rocket, even as he is actively getting out of the slums, documents everything he witnesses. Themes of the story include a lot about violence, drugs, and growing up in poverty. This movie also highlights how each generation in the city quickly repeats the cycle even after the old gangsters are gone. City of God should be well known for its irregular storytelling and gripping character interactions.

One of the most appreciated things about this story was it’s beautiful composition and color correcting. Every shot is carefully constructed and shows a clear emotion. From the vibrant and warm colors of the beach shots to the gritty and washed out shots pertaining to the cyclical drug rings. Fernando Meirelles and Kátia Lund were very attentive with how they wanted to direct this movie and they did not disappoint in the slightest. 

Another major highlight of the film for me were the character interactions. My favorite dynamic throughout the film was that of Lil Z (formally known as Lil Dice) and Benny, his childhood friend.

In the beginning of the movie we’re shown that these two are inseparable. They’ve grown up in the slums together since they were both young kids and have had each other’s backs for the longest. They run a drug ring together and are basically in charge of what goes on on their turf. Lil Z’s behavior as a child can be heavily described as sociopathic. He has no problem killing innocent people and will often take things to the next level if he so desires. Benny, on the other hand, has a bit more humanity to him. He’s seen going through the city and talking with a lot of the residents there. He also makes friends with Rocket and his little group of friends. Hell, Benny is so likable that even after stealing the heart of Rocket’s crush, Rocket still remained friendly with him and even came to his going away party!

Lil Z and Benny are connected and yet kind of opposite of each other in a sense. Benny is Lil Z’s FOIL; the angelic conscience on his shoulder; the one that keeps him grounded. And maybe it’s just me but I also felt that Lil Z even felt much more than kinship for his best friend. Throughout the movie, Benny is constantly always keeping Lil Z from not making too much trouble. He keeps him in check and makes sure he doesn’t go overboard with the violence during their deals. Benny, in Lil Z’s eyes, is the only one worthy of respect and puts him on an equal level to him. Benny is the only person Lil Z ever (and will ever) need. 

So imagine his surprise when Benny starts to become occupied with another woman. Insert Rocket’s crush: Angela. I won’t go too into detail on their relationship but after dating her Benny realizes he wants to leave behind this harsh life and start a new peaceful one with Angela. He could've done it as well, he had tons of money from slanging coke and was ready to settle down. This doesn’t make Lil Z the happiest. And though he never outright says he doesn’t want Benny to leave him, we see it through his behaviors and what other phrases he throws onto him. 

“We’re doing so well. You can own this part of the city after we’re done!” 

“You can’t just leave after making this much progress.”

"You're doing all this for some bitch?"

I’m paraphrasing a bit here, but these are similar to the lines said to Benny when confronting him about his desire to leave the city. Benny even proposes to him that he should get a girlfriend and realize why he’d want to leave. He basically proposed that if he found someone he loved enough, then he’d want to leave this life as well. I believe, however, that one of the reasons Lil Z truly enjoys this gangster lifestyle is because he’s always had Benny, his other half. 

I don’t think Lil Z understood that what he felt for Benny was romantic. Benny was always prioritized in his mind along with the City, he never really left his side, and he shows a lot of distaste to his other gang members besides Benny.

I almost wished that they explored a bit more with their relationship in the movie but I also believe that it was intentionally done. From an outsider’s POV, there were heavy romantic undertones to how Lil Z felt about Benny. But from Lil Z’s POV, he didn’t truly know what love is. So how could he have known that was what he felt for Benny? 

I won’t get into too many heavy spoilers so this will be my take on how their relationship is to me during the 1st and 2nd acts of the movie. Most likely to be continued. 

[geometricalien]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

awww thank you for including me. this has just been sitting in my box for the past couple of days but HERE I AM- in no particular order:

This doesn't really have a name... It's just called Merman AU

and it's not a 'fanfic' it's half a collection of headcannons for this AU and half snippets from this idea that I posted on tumblr at @haikyuu-aus-cuz-i-cant-write (oops look who has actually written now jfdksalf) basically this is a cross between the little mermaid and the monkey's paw. I really liked this but it was wayyy too big of an idea for me to write and you can see that I stopped after writing Suga's wish which is reallly funny considering this whole idea spawned from wanting a mermaid/human bokuaka AU and i was not near to getting to the meat of the story at all

Things That Hold Us Together: Steel Bolts and Tender Hearts

yes i just recently posted this, yes i've had this in my folders for like 3 years. this one... this was spawned from an old friend - who i don't speak with anymore - offhand comment that a fanart looked like akashi was an android. four hours after they said that i had half of this fic, and they said it was the best writing i ever shared with them. they encouraged me to expand it but i kept hitting a wall and then we had a falling out and through out the years ive been coming back to this trying to add and edit and i decided to reclaim it as my own and publish it. the idea is that it's an introduction to a lighthearted sitcom/romcom between decommissioned war android akashi and engineer who fixed him up furihata

Language Barriers

i cyclically get star trek brainrot and this time it had a dash of akafuri, i really like how i described things in this one since furihata doesn't think in words but emotions and images instead, idk it was a good writing exercise

Horror wip

ive been hemming and hawing at it for literal months now because i have one central driving image behind my eyelids that i want to get to. its just been... harder than usual to get to it. i've rewritten like 3 times trying to get it write. i've currently landed on 2nd person narration with some thrown in spices of 1st person to signify that we are in the being- akashi's- point of view haunting furihata (the you) and its giving me an opportunity to make the reader feel akashi's destroying love from the front seat. my other goal with this is to write some surrealistic imagery soooo yeP

I Will Follow You Down Through The Gates of Hell

i cant not include this. this damn fic/series/idea has been brewing in the back of my mind for so damn long if it was a human child it could hold a fucking conversation. the imagery. the themes. the depth of emotion- AND WE ARE BARELY GETTING INTO THE WAR!? ITS BEEN 50K+ WORDS AND ITS JUST GETTING STARTED (or ending, if you wanna look at it that way) idk its... its been so long since i wrote part 1 that that fic doesn't feel like "mine" anymore? idk but it always makes me smile seeing an email saying that someone else liked the fics too.

[mocha-sees-most]

Just some late night thoughts.

Should I feel bad that I'm so bitter about still being single?

"well what do you mean mocha?"

I mean, all of my dearest friends are in relationships, all of my family members are in relationships, the only one who isn't, has a very real reason (that I will not be saying) to not be in a relationship, and they are pretty happy where they are, but still encourage me to have one.

My Parental Figure talks sometimes about how I'll be such a great Mom one day, how I'll have a husband who loves me and everything will be fine. Only every day that passes by that I'm still single, I believe those words less and less.

I love children (when they're old enough to communicate, so about 4 and up) I do want some of my own , (2 at the most) I plan to adopt because while being "pregnant" is such a miracle to some, my inner male counterpart is very against it, and the female part could do without the pain. So, adoption.

All that to say, when I hear about other's relationships, I find myself frustrated at them sometimes. I'm happy for them, as any friend would be, but a part of me seethes in anger towards their relationship.

"How come they are happy with someone and I'm not?"

"Why is it so hard for me and easy for them?"

"why the hell does my family tease me about this so much?"

I feel lied to that curvy busty women are now desirable. I'm curvy, I just went UP a bra size, where the hell are my suitors?!

I struggle with self image often. It's gotten better, where about 70% of the time, I love myself, I love being me unapologetically, I try new things to make me feel happy and pretty. And then 30% of the time I'm depressed, I feel ugly and worthless, undesirable.

Part of this is my condition of cyclical Depression, and years of self hate, but it's still something to mention .

I know I'm only 18 turning 19, so I have all of my 20s to think about. But most people date in highschool- freshman year of college. And my first actual relationship ended TWO DAYS after it was established. Very abruptly, very hurtfully, and with little warning.

And Everytime I hear about "oh,I'm in a relationship now" outwardly, I'm like "oh really? That's so great! I'm super happy for you!" And internally I'm like "Fuck you, you and your relationship, how dare you be happy in my presence, how dare you rub the salt of me still being single at my age In my wounds of insecurity "

And it makes me feel horrible that I internally feel this way to a friend. Who I am genuinely happy for. I feel like a terribly selfish person, and like someone like that doesn't deserve a relationship . Which frustrates me further, because if I had one, I wouldn't feel this way. So... should I feel as terrible about this as I do? Or is this something normal?

[velvetporcelain]

going up on a tuesday

Not gonna lie. I had intrusive visions of me logging back into instagram. And I shook repulsively.

Slow down little one. No need to run away from yourself. Standing there and thinking in an uncomfortable silence is encouraged. Can you handle the uncomfortable silence with yourself? Why do we need to escape? Fight of flight from self? Fuuuuuckk. Intense.

See the thing is? I know myself now. A bit more clearly. I know what things can and won’t do for me. And there’s nothing there for me. This is where I use my hate language constructively. To motive the wolf in me. Salivating.

Maybe I’m a bit starved. And I’m in hunt mode. I’m in my prime human nature.

Do you know? While I was cooking yesterday- I actually considered asking my husband if he would allow me the experience of fucking another man. Ha. Seriously justified this with each stir of my dinner. It’s like I was perfectly in sync with my mind and body that I was happy to be standing there stirring the pot. Ha. Being a housewife is so cool.

I literally was like- did I just think that? Yes. I did. Obviously this thinking is very interpersonal, not selfish. I refuse to take accountability for human nature. I’m doing what feels natural, thinking. 🤔 👀😑🤘 anyways. He wouldn’t expect anything less of me honestly. He would literally laugh at me and be like “you’re fucking crazy” 😂 but yes maybe I am, but MAYBE crazy is me. He knows I’m a sexual person. I love sex. Damn that felt good to say.

Now? It’s too the point where I want to have other sexual experiences to see what kind of flowers I can bloom in my garden. Literally open up new parts of me. This isn’t “oh my god I don’t love my husband and he neglects me” type shit. NO. I AM NOT A MAIDEN. this is me listening to my existence.

I have even considered the possibility of an “open” marriage- but I don’t know if could handle him being with another woman, or the thought of another woman pleasing him. It doesn’t settle in me right when I look at it that way. This is some honest and raw shit. I feel no shame, only liberation, in the fact that these thoughts do not create hell inside me. Some get to escape. Others get rerouted back into the void. It is cyclical.

I refuse to let society be my puppeteer. I am nobody’s slave but my own, and I even refuse to be my own slave! Thinking is GOOD!!! Thinking is healthy. Is it because I feel that my mind is a bit innocent?

I have fantasized about the neighbors. Yea. I know, kinky right? Especially the cop at the end of the street. He’s a twisted freak, I know it. I knew it the day we stared at each other during the veterans parade. Now you have to know, I am the really odd quiet woman who goes home and smokes weed and does whatever the fuck I want because I literally hate humans, I am not some bippity, big titty air head whore. Got it? Good. I’ve spent my entire life as the observer, I know how people behave, I have a good eye for people. This is an ability that I love about myself. And I’m usually pretty spot on.

Jesus. I’ve said too much, and I laugh because it feels so good being present.

Fuck.

I gotta call my mom.

i love you

-x

[monorayjak]

Wedge Talks - Abzan (Part 1 - This one got looooooooooong)

Black, green, and white - Power through opportunity, growth, and structure. Black: Power is all that matters in this world White: Since when? Black: Since forever White: Ugh… why do I have to work with you Green: same reason I have to deal with them Black: Ah great, I’m with you two this time, fun times White: Yeah no shit. We aren’t exactly happy about this either. Green: For fucks sake can we just get this over with already? Black: Yeah, lets do what we got to do already White: Good… so how do we start? Black: Guess I should give my vision of a perfect world? Or goal? White: Everyone but you being dead? We already know that. Black: That is not what a perfect world looks like. That sounds like a personal  hell. Green: Wait, seriously? Black: Yes! I’m all about myself but that doesn’t mean I want to be alone for the rest of eternity. White: Ok, ok, so give us the run down then. Black: Ok, so, to me, a perfect world is one where I am in charge. One where no one can help or even fathom to oppose me, that those I care for are treated as I feel they should be, that those I hate be treated as I feel they should be, and that everyone obeys my will. Green: So……..dictatorship? Black: Eh… I guess? White: Honestly I can understand Black: I’m sorry what? What did you just say? White: A dictatorship can be the easiest distribution of power. Green: Ok this is a little terrifying White: What? Green: You two are agreeing on… being a dictator White: And? Green: That doesn’t make you feel just a bit odd? White: Not really. As much as I dislike working with this asshole, they have things I can respect. Black: Say what now? White: What? Black: You respect me? White: In some ways, yes. Black: Like…? White: Ugh, well, I guess I respect your dedication to a goal, as fleeting as that dedication can be. If you want something, you make sure you end with it. Black: Huh… neat. I guess… I guess I also respect the both of you? Green: Ok, so as odd and unsettling as this has been, I do have to admit I can respect your own brand of survival. Black: What do you mean? Green: No matter the case, if something is linked to you, it will find a way back to the world of the living. No matter how deep in the dirt it winds up. White: Isn’t that like… antithetical to your whole point Green? Green: No. Life and death are cyclical. One ending is the exact same as the other beginning. Life, say for example, a lion being born, leads to death, say a prey being killed by that lion to feed itself. The lion is not in the wrong for killing for food. Black: See! Power means everything! Green: Not exactly. Black: What?! But you just said! Green: Yes, but also the lion will one day die, no matter how much it fights. White: But how does that…? Green: The lion will die. Their body will decompose. Fungus feed on that decaying meat. The plants grow from the infusion of materials the fungus fails to eat. Those plants will in turn be eaten by a prey animal. A prey animal that yet another lion will eat. And the cycle continues. Things change, yes, but one leads to the other. Cause and effect. White: …wow… never thought of it like that. Black: Ok… so I guess I should admit what I respect of you both?

[aliengoose]

JUMPING ON HERE TO ADD BECAUSE YOU ARE CORRECT AND I NEED TO ALSO SHARE!!

“I’m that perspective you cannot doubt, see how i look”

We saw almost everything that happened through the same filter as Ranboo. When his mask failed is when we were able to see the slime was actually blood, hear people screaming in pain, SEE THE CAMERAS. We literally see how he sees - thus “see how i look”. And for the first episode we did NOT doubt his perspective at all.

“Control the narrative reliably, baby it’s all about me”

maybe not gl!ranboo themself but very much that twisting the story in favour of “the hero”. plus we’re meant to at least at first believe that ranboo IS a reliable narrator (see above)

“Beating my dead high horse off the high road to low ground”

beating a dead horse means to repeat something over and over and over again without any change and without any meaning behind it. fits with the cyclic never-ending loops that showfall traps their “characters” in.

ranboo is being forced by showfall media to act as though they’re on a “high horse”, frequently pushing others towards their gruesome death to save their own life - because they’re the hero, they’re the protagonist, they’re ‘above’ everyone else. plus in this ranboo is pushed off the moral high ground

“So God forbid I’m seen just as an average human being”

ADDING ON FROM OP BC THEIR COMPARISON IS ALSO VERY VERY GOOD.

SO with the carousel the other streamers (most notably niki and austin) are flattened into two dimensional archetypes that represent how they’re seen frequently in their careers. people often don’t actually see niki as her own individual, instead they discuss her relations with others, and it’s always that she’s so ‘nice’. Austin is made into a joke, the little description just says “gay” and he’s forced to constantly talk as if he’s part of a typical family sub-unit. his entire personhood is flattened out into a joke. ALL THIS IS TO SAY the same is done with ranboo. their characters in genloss are heavily influenced by the ways in which they’re perceived by the public.

A considerable number of people put ranboo on a pedestal, (i could link this with the crucifixion imagery at the end of part 3 but i’m tired. you see my vision) even though they are literally just some guy. He got lucky (?) and was pushed into the spotlight very suddenly and when they were literally a child. Very suddenly they had people who look up to him, who defend him even when they themselves admit they fucked up, fans who refuse to believe he can do wrong.

I mean god FORBID they’re just an average human being who makes mistakes and need help occasionally, they’re the HERO for fucks sake /s.

“I mean, imagine if protagonists just died in the first scene”

OP YOU ARE BANG ON. Ranboo kills multiple people and/or is miraculously saved by being in the right spot at the right time by showfall’s management of the situation. he is not allowed to die until their tragic end, at which point that’s it, there’s no more story. what’s a story without a protagonist? After ranboo dies there’s nothing, the music stops abruptly and the credits roll. there’s no story without them.

“I’m the gap between a tragedy and comedy”

AGAIN BIG AGREE WITH OP. because we see what ranboo sees, the first episode is a comedy! it sure as hell wouldn’t be comedic without the filter! ranboo being forced to see through the filter and being the protagonist, he is indirectly the reason that we see through the filter. him breaking free of that is how the show transforms from a goofy comedy into a tragic horror!

“I’m the main character, and you have to like me”

Again, ranboo is the protagonist, literally referred to as the hero, he’s the main character.

and we are meant to like him, that’s an integral part of the story and the emotions tied to it. that’s what makes the ending so jarring and terrifying. if we didn’t like them, choosing to either kill them or keep them alive to suffer eternally would not be as terrible a decision as it was. I mean the main point of The Social Experiments was to see if we would collectively vote to kill someone, especially someone that we LIKED. Ranboo’s role as the protagonist is for us to like him so that the ending is that much more tragic.

“I loot plot armor from NPCs, well they are to me”

1. i agree with OP

2. all the other characters in generation loss are treated as expendable, like NPCs. they exist to help ranboo progress through the story, being sacrificed for the sole purpose of protecting ranboo. not to mention the reason they’re protected is BECAUSE they’re the protagonist, they LITERALLY HAVE PLOT ARMOR. PLOT ARMOR THAT IS TAKEN FROM “EXPENDABLE” CHARACTERS RESULTING IN THEIR DEATHS

3. Another NPC-like thing is the “expendable” characters ability to come back to life as though we’d forgotten their death? Charlie dies in every episode, as does Sneeg. Hetch talks about being able to “reboot” people after their death. Ranboo doesn’t get to have that though, he’s the playable character, they only get so many lives and once ranboo’s gone, the game is over.

“So tie me to the traintracks, laugh and snidely twist your moustache, snidely whiplash, boris badenov”

This to me relates best to the puzzler. he’s a caricature of a villain, he’s very clearly based off of Jigsaw and in general has the vibes of kinda retro horror villains who don’t seem to fully have a motive but come up with “fun” strange ways to hurt and kill people. He’s here to have fun, even if he’s a little incompetent for how long he’s been doing this for.

Both Badenov and Whiplash are your classic silly villains who act all sneaky and villainous (literally just look up images of them and you’ll see what i mean, tho whiplash falls into a couple antisemitic tropes). It lines up with the puzzler being a bit of an incompetent villain who doesn’t seem to have much of a motive other than it’s fun and he’s the villain, that’s what he’s supposed to do!

“judge me by what my cover shows, author becomes beyond reproach, you don’t know the prose, or if the spine is still intact”

similar ideas to what i said earlier about the genloss characters being flattened out versions of the irl streamers.

judge them by their cover, take them at face value. don’t critique the “author” writing their characters (showfall).

the characters are being controlled, they cannot stand up for what they believe in, we can’t know that they believe what they are saying - aka is their “spine still intact”.

“come astroturf my overton”

THIS LINE!!! FUCK THIS LINE FITS SO WELL OH MY FUCKING GOD

This line is a reference to politicians staying within the realm of what is considered acceptable, how they can appeal to their voters and all that. Astroturfing is when they take on a position that is favoured in order to drown out the grassroots movement who genuinely are working towards change. the overton window is the area of politics and policies deemed acceptable to enact.

I do think there’s something in there about Austin insisting that he has a loving wife and children despite literally being told that he’s gay has something to do with that. In media for a long long time (tho it has been changing a bit more recently), queerness could never be explored authentically, it was purely just for jokes, because queerness is only viewed as acceptable if it’s being mocked in some way. Similarly ethan suggests dressing up in disguises, puts on a wig and a dress, and immediately fucking dies. queerness is only viewed as acceptable if we don’t get a happy ending. ranboo is the protagonist, while the others do at least something fancy with their outfit and walk, ranboo just wears a black jacket and walks fairly normally iirc. showfall censors their queerness into what can be seen as acceptable.

finally RANBOO being CENSORED ASGSHSHSH. He is bound by showfall to only act in an “acceptable” manner. can you imagine how differently the show would have been if they were allowed to genuinely react to all the gruesome deaths that they watched?

ALSO THE SWEARING COMES IN HERE. They’re not allowed to swear until they’re released from the mind control, at which point their immediate first words are “what the fuck”. they’re literally being censored to be acceptable for a large media corporation. GOD. I cannot put it into words.

OK I’M DONE ITS 1AM I’M TIRED BUT I THINK THATS EVERYTHING I WANTED TO SAY

would anyone be interested in an animatic of this because when i tell y’all i have so many thoughts and feelings.

"the main character" by will wood is a very gl!ranboo-coded song and here's why

(lyrics of the song are bolded and in quotation marks, analysis is in plain text)

"So, God forbid I'm seen just as an average human being" 

gl!ranboo isn't even seen as a real person with a life in generation loss. they're just a character-puppet-plaything for showfall media and nothing more. 

"I mean, imagine if protagonists just died in the first scene" 

SHOWFALL JUST WOULDN'T LET RANBOO DIE. THEY JUST WOULDN'T LET THEM DIE UNTIL CHAT ACTUALLY CHOSE FOR THEM TO DIE.

"I'm the gap between a tragedy and comedy"

rewatch The Spirit of the Cabin. now rewatch The Choice. THAT IS THE BIGGEST SWITCH FROM COMEDY TO TRAGEDY I'VE SEEN OCCUR IN A SHOW WITH ONE EPISODE ON BETWEEN. GL!RANBOO IS. THAT. GAP.

"I'm the main character, and you have to like me"

they are literally the main character of generation loss, and we have to like them if we want them to continue to be that main character, because if we don't like them, guess what! we can kill them! and no more ranboo main character funtimes! 

"I loot plot armor from NPCs. Well, they are to me." 

every single side character in the show, namely those in The Mastermind of the Warehouse, was a real person. however, because we don't control their choices, they aren't important to us. we see them as NPCs. they die as NPCs. 

"Villains are everywhere, that's how I know that I'm a hero." 

do i need to explain? gl!ranboo is referred to as The Hero multiple times, and for all three generation loss episodes, they are surrounded by villains, whether it's demon charlie, the puzzler, hetch, or even just the showfall media employees.

[tommybaholland]

when their drunk s/o is in their feels [pt.2]

featuring: dabi

the other part to this request! switching up the style and a little bit of the content. please be advised that this contains some themes of toxic relationships as well as unhealthy coping skills, such as drinking. there’s also some swearing and slander since we’re talking about this burnt, bitter man (who needs love :’( ). mostly angst but with a happy ending(??) idk i figured i’d switch it up lol enjoy :)

“let me have another, kurogiri,” you requested, your voice slightly slurred and your movements delayed as you held out your glass. 

he complied, pouring another round of your drink of choice for the night. you hoped to get rid of that feeling of regret, including everything you said to him because honestly, you were right. 

“why can’t i ever go out anywhere? it gets really boring in here, you know,” you reasoned. 

“i know, sweetheart, but people will see you,” he explained vaguely, trying to remain logical and persuade you by using his soft voice.

“i’ve never even been associated with the League or you!” you remarked harshly, growing tired of the same, cyclical conversation. “it’s not like people know who i am.”

“look, people know that you’re still missing. did you ever think of that, huh?” he threw back at you, making you cross your arms defensively. 

“so you really don’t trust me that much?”

“how can i when you don’t even use your brain? or lack thereof,” he insulted, turning away from you. “i’m the reason that you’re not dead or living on the streets, remember?”

you looked at him with a dumbfounded expression as if he wasn’t in that same situation several months ago.

“what are you talking-- we came here together, you-- you know what? i don’t have time for this. just go,” you replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

suddenly, icy blue eyes were right in front of your own, his hands tilting your face up to look at his.

“look, if you want to leave, there’s no one stopping you but don’t make it my problem and don’t think about coming back. you got that?”

you nod reluctantly with a scowl.

“good,” he responds before squishing your cheeks. “aww, look at that cute angry face,” he coos as he leans in to plant a kiss on your forehead. you decided to pull away right before his lips touch your skin. 

“what the hell?” he snaps. 

“just leave me alone and go do whatever you need to do, dabi. i don’t care,” you reply solemnly, turning away from him.

usually, you’d call him one of the stupid nicknames you had for him, like ‘dobby the house elf’ with that god-awful british accent that you do when you say it. but the emphasis on correctly saying his name let him know that you were really pissed off. 

“fine. sit here and sulk. see if i care,” he grunts before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

“that’s all i ever do,” you mutter after he left. 

so now here you are, trying to drink your feelings away. 

you had accepted a long time ago that a relationship with him would be less than ideal but all the hiding was getting old to you. you wanted to go out every now and then, just for some fresh air. you were even delusional enough to think that maybe you could get him to take you out somewhere, like a normal couple. 

but that wasn’t the case. you did this to yourself and somehow, you still don’t regret it. 

you never thought you could love someone as much as you love him. you were both lost souls who had found each other through some thin strand of circumstance, call it fate if you want. you didn’t know everything but clearly he had been through some shit which made it only natural for you to gravitate toward him. you didn’t have the greatest track record either but it made you feel good, even hopeful, to find someone in a similar place. 

how could you let go of all of that now? 

“hey,” a distant voice called. “come on, wake up.” 

your eyes openly slowly to reveal your boyfriend. apparently, you had fallen asleep at the bar. 

“you can’t sleep down here,” he chided.

you blink, still processing the spinning images in front of your face. he wasn’t wearing his familiar jacket, leaving him in just his loose white shirt.

“da- dabi?” 

“yeah. it’s me. come on. we’re going up to bed,” he instructs, tugging lightly at your wrist. 

you allow him to pull you off the bar stool but it seems you overestimated your ability to stand up straight, as you immediately stumble to the ground. 

albeit exhausted, you giggle from your little blunder. “whoopies.” 

he sighs, looking back and down at you. “jesus christ, how much did you drink?” 

“just a few,” you answered. 

“yeah, right. not with how you’re walking, you clumsy dummy.” 

“carry me, please?” you ask, reaching out to him as you pout. 

he sighs once more, knowing that he cannot resist those eyes. he throws one of your arms around your neck as he lifts you up from under your knees and back. 

“whoa, it’s like a rollercoaster ride. woo-hoo,” you cheered drunkenly, hanging your head back. 

“quit moving,” he warns. “you’re gonna hit your head and then you’ll really be sorry.” 

“gosh, you’re grumpy,” you noted, reaching a hand up to boop his nose.

“i suggest not doing that unless you want me to drop you.”

thankfully, he was able to make it to the bedroom without such a casualty. he placed you down on your side of the bed before getting you all tucked under the blankets, not even letting you change out of your day clothes. he didn’t say anything and ignored all your incoherent babbling as you were settled into bed. when he was finished, he intended to turn around and walk out. unfortunately, you didn’t want him to leave just yet as he felt your hand tug at his wrist. 

“wait, where are you going? i have something to tell you,” you announced to him. 

“okay. well, say it,” he urged, turning slightly towards you. 

“nooooo,” you whined, shaking his hand. “can you get in the bed with me, please?”

you gave him that look again. “you and those damn eyes. alright, fine. move over.”

“yay!” you cheered as you made room for him. he took off his shirt before climbing in with you to which you naturally snuggled up close to him. 

“hmm, you’re so warm,” you hummed as you pressed yourself against his bare chest. 

“what were you going to say?” he asked in an annoyed tone.

“oh, yeah. i just wanted to say that i love you, even if you can be a head ass sometimes,” you spoke.

“what a sentiment,” he replied facetiously before hearing some sobs. “why are you crying?”

“because i love you so much! and i, um,” you stuttered, feeling more and more emotional. “i don’t want to lose you. i know you only keep me here to protect me but how do you think i feel? if you die, i want to die with you.”

he listened, his heart feeling both shame and warmth at the same time. he rubs a hand over your head as his other arm wraps around your body.

“sometimes you’re so sweet to me that it makes me sick,” he confessed. “but i guess that’s what they mean by ‘lovesick’, huh?”

“i love you and i’ve been in love with you since the beginning. i never really thought that i’d get this far, to be honest. i’m sorry that i can be a complete asshole to you when you don’t deserve it. well, maybe you do sometimes.”

he expected you would look annoyed and was shocked to hear you start laughing. he let a small grin appear on his face.

“only when you say dumb shit like those stupid nicknames that you call me,” he clarifiied.

he covered your mouth before you could even open it. “don’t. say it,” he warned. 

“i’m not done yet. i was thinking that maybe possibly we could try to go out somewhere...together,” he offers.

“really?” 

“but we’d have to wear disguises of some sort or go somewhere more secluded,” he reminds you. 

you gasp. “we could get matching raincoats!” 

“that’s the exact opposite of what i was thinking.”

“opposites are good. they attract, did you know?”

“that’s not true,” he countered before pulling you closer. “in fact, i think you’re a lot like me.”

“except my name isn’t da-beeee,” you pointed out while laughing, booping him in the nose again. 

at this point, he was just humoring you. “yeah, yeah. laugh all you want. just wait until the morning when you’re sick everywhere.”

“maybe if i knew your real name, you wouldn’t get so much hate,” you said in a sing-song voice. 

“i told you, i’ll tell you when you need to know,” he replied. 

“i need to know-whoa,” you sang. “i like that song.”

“alright, it’s quiet time now,” he hushed, beginning to rub the back of your neck to lull you to sleep. 

you sighed against his skin as your eyes drooped more and more. “love you.”

“love you more, sweetheart. i’ll talk to you in the morning.”

he figured it was time for him to completely let you in, planning on getting you sobered up enough to tell you everything about him. you are his one and only true love with whom he would try to build a more suitable life.

good night for a bnha night! send all your confessions...

big thanks to the lovely patrons for supporting this blog:

Syd

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[earlyspringtranscendence]

so far this is all still very loose and based on watching the ep once but i wanted to write my initial thoughts on the themes in the ep

keys & being unable to open doors: in dream psychology & literature homes are the visual representation of the inward self, to be unable to get into his house to me means beard is having a hard time coming to terms with himself and what he wants—he keeps wandering from his core ideals (& towards jane i might add) & other people have to show him the way back, have to give him his keys and say “coach, i’m offering you your life back, will you take it?”  inability to open doors also often part of nightmares & feeling a lack of control in waking life

moons, stars & the night sky in a general sense: having a tough time really cracking into this one specifically even tho it’s the most overt one, part of it makes me think of the cyclical nature of the moon OR (and this is contradictory to the last one) the full moon as an ending to one thing & the beginning to a new, different thing. thinking also of light in the dark, external forces having uncontrollable effects on one’s life/the world in general, the whole concept of lunacy

identity in two parts; part one—changing clothes & changing lives: the episode starts with beard and the boys getting changed to go toward better, more exciting & fun life. part of beard’s original identity is stripped away from him forcefully (his richmond pants) while other parts are held onto specifically. at one point i was wondering whether we were being taken through beard’s history throughout his life, back to when he was a raucous youngster wearing flares and dating oxford professors and getting chased away, but i def dont think thats true. i will say though that beard picks a cap out of the box (or was he already wearing it ??? i dont remember but i dont Think so ??) which is the same model as the one jane gives him at the end of the episode in which higgins criticises jane’s controlling nature (moon? is she the moon, maybe?) and once again feels like beard is trying to change himself to run away from something which exists within the original version of himself, towards jane who offers escape and love (albeit twisted, but from beard’s pov she offers the opportunity for love). what else is interesting here is the way the boys’ path ends up diverging from beard’s—they get to nelson road and throw off the assumed identity of the evening which never truly fit them (they couldn’t even keep up the ruse in the club for long) returning to who they are as we know them, richmond fans with little influence over the plot. beard, on the other hand, ends the episode while still wearing the flares thrust upon him, the identity so far removed from his own

part two—his name: let’s get into fairytales for a second. what the hell is up with beard’s first name. jane calls him beard. ted calls him beard. why does this man keep his true identity so close to his chest ? why is he scared that if he reveals his name it will be taken and twisted and used to force him into doing things he doesn’t want? i believe ted knows beard’s name but doesn’t use it out of (an incorrectly placed) respect towards his friend, i do not believe beard has ever told jane his name. i don’t think she’s asked, either, but that’s not part of the point. out of all the characters in the show beard really does come across as the most fairytale trickster of all, he has no name, he’s there and gone in the blink of an eye (see: when he calls nate out) he’s always hunting for knowledge and he frankly knows everything. why is he so mythologised ? who is coach beard, really? and why is he so afraid of himself?

[000rache1]

it feels as though it’s been a while, now, of returning to your ask box every so often. the passing of time looms over me, although I’m slowly learning to be enveloped in its grove, instead of succumbing to its perceived might. time is precious, certainly. piecing together the puzzle of time and experience can cause delirium.. and yet, feel ethereal. simply acknowledging this (perceived) truth feels freeing. it’s likely part of my cycle, to reset my processes. all of my asks akin to prom dresses.

my work and my life allow me to fall in love with people and things, assuming I’m attentive and proactive. I am not where I want to be, but the grove is still growing, yes? hell bent on feeding flowers and showering knowledge cyclically as I myself am watered. the world looks bleak at times, so perhaps I start smaller. I cannot stress how grateful I am for your camaraderie. these are moments in between that keep me going. thank you, really, for reading and responding.

tell me anything, if you want, about your life. large or small, concrete or abstract. what have you left on the asphalt or kept in your backpack? have you seen columns of basalt or the salt flats? I believe my asks once had more rhymes.. perhaps for the moment, we’re past that ;p

always wishing the best and again, eternally gratefully,

inbox catharsis anon ( ˘ ³˘)♥

first off, apologies for such a delay in my response. sometimes I come back and read these over and over but I hesitate on my responses because I wish I could word things as beautifully as you do. truly. people who are able to make you feel a certain way with just there words are special, and you my friend are special! (at least to me)

life has treated me well lately. can’t say i’ve been lucky enough to see any columns of basalt or salt flats but it’s definitely been tacked to my mental clipboard to refer back to later.

in this moment, in life, I have to say i’m pretty content. i’m trying to spend my days around the people who bring me joy but sometimes I can’t help but to admit that I enjoy my own solitude most. i’ve become a bit of a recluse these days. i’m alone but.. i’m not lonely.

i’m working on trying to reignite the passion for hobbies that bring me peace of mind. like painting, or photography or anything that allows me to have creative input/freedom. for such a long while that was a large part of who I am, and unintentionally over time i’ve stopped pushing myself to make time for those things. so i’m trying to be a little bit more conscious of that now while still being gentle with myself.

I hope my message finds you well anon, i’ll be looking forward to your next msg ❣️

[leviiattacks]

Two Faced | Chapter Four

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it's all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared. for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au, angst, fluff, slice of life etc word count :: 3k author note ::  you should also check out my ao3 and wattpad my username is LEVIATTACKS on both platforms. ao3 usually gets to see my updates first, feel free to leave any comments you have i appreciate all feedback ^___^ → next part is here!!

"Refer to me with that name once more and I'll see to it that your neck is snapped in two. Fucking Brat." His voice curls into a low hiss.

He rises from the bed making you jolt, if he's moving towards his dagger everything will be over in a matter of seconds. The tension between the two of you is foggy and uncertain.

Your line of vision is cloudy, bleary tears seize it. You should have tried harder whilst researching, found a way to make Lev stay, it hits you like a sack of bricks - you didn't try hard enough, was that the issue, was that the mistake you made this time? Mind full of harsh expletives you continue to curse yourself. Of course he left, of course he fucking did. Your life was one large cyclical narrative of earning the love of others and ultimately losing it along the way some how.

The world conditioned you to become independent, to not rely on others for affection, earn what you must on your own. Making your own way through life is all you know yet here you are. On the verge of tears because this damn fool won't remember you. Happiness is a privilege.

Staring into the distance you don't see the way your husband's glare thins out, neither do you notice how he leans forward invading your personal space.

"Care to explain how we got into this situation?" Breath fanning across your face exactly the same way it had months ago you gulp and realise he's staring at your lacy nightgown in sheer distaste. Oh no, He's got the wrong idea completely.

You jerk your head up to explain and only then is the close proximity between the two of you evident, you nearly knock your head against his as if you're inebriated. "No, no. We've never done that. I promise we haven't. I wouldn't take advantage of you." You're sputtering and are all over the place trying to hold some sort of ground in this conversation.

"I see that you saw no issue with taking advantage of me in other ways. You scheming money hungry roach."

You want to clear your name and tell him you really haven't touched any of his money. None of it at all to the point it's shameful to admit, especially considering the fact that everyone else sees you as Duchess Ackerman.

"I have not spent any of your money I swe-".

A deafening bang resounds through the room - in his fit of rage he kicks one of the solid oak drawers at the side of your bed to the floor.

A squeaky gasp falls out of your mouth and you flinch away as you cover your chest defensively. Your arms aren't the best armour but they work for now. If he's to stab you your worst fear is him piercing through your heart. What you fear most is him ripping the vital organ out of the confines of your chest. If he laughs hysterically and watches it bleed out you'll never forgive him. Your worries and doubts are internally eating away at you as you witness the darkness seeping into the corners of his vision.

It's quiet and dark and with him as well as a heavy silence looming over you, the pressure on your shoulders is quite literally immense.

He takes a hold of your chin and obnoxiously squishes your rosy cheeks together, dark tundra eyes never falter from yours, that is until they abruptly sink south and he catches drift of the way your night gown has ridden up. Thighs on full display you want to pull the edges of the material down but are too afraid to move under his deathly stare.

"Do you know how long I was stuck inside of my own body? Having to act like a fool on the daily."

"What?" You shakily reply through parted lips.

He was able to see everything he did under the spell? This changes the dynamic significantly. Cheeks flaring up in embarrassment you recall how you ate up all the sweet nothings he whispered into your ears, the scarlet blush creeps to the back of your ears when you think back to how you fervently kissed him goodbye whenever he was sent to venture outside the walls. The sanguine tint only intensifies when you think about the night where you accidentally let his bare hands venture a little too far.

"Naive little thing," he grunts. "You will never be my wife." He scowls sniffing at you in pure repulsion.

Whiskey, cigarette fumes and strong sweat infused cologne revoltingly is what you're reminded of when you hear those words leave his mouth. The stench isn't present but nevertheless you feel your throat constrict, never expecting to see any sort of parallel form between Levi and that man. The one time you stood your ground against Father it led to you being dragged away from the palace grounds, beat until you were unresponsive and left for dead. He left you there with the intention of extermination, his final words as he bid you goodbye that night had been - "You will never be my daughter."

You have no words left to offer, you're tongue tied. Expressionless whilst he gauges your reaction, the both of you don't register how Levi's grip on your cheeks loosens, that is until the look in his hooded eyes changes. They're inky now smoldering with resentment, he lets go of the hold he has on your face completely.

The separation between your face and his palm is stony.

All you want at that moment is for Lev to come back and wake you up from all of this. You've had enough of this sick and twisted nightmare where he doesn't look at you the way he normally does. The way he manhandles you irks you and lights a dangerous fire in your stomach.

Blinking your tears away you finally speak after your long silence "I know that My Lord." taking what may be one of your final breaths you announce the unthinkable "Feel free to finish what you were unable to last time."

"No begging?" he chastises you pulling you by the back of your ear.

"Would you spare me if I did?" The close ended question you respond with leaves him stiff.

Snatching your forearm you note that even when he's not under the constraint of the spell physical touch is consistently one of his ways of getting a point across. He jerks your tired form forward. "Who do you work for?"

Blood running cold you know he won't kill you now. He thinks you've come here with a purpose, a motive, a reason. Hell, all you did was ask to be loved, to experience something before the candle which was your life burnt out.

"No one. You said you were conscious in your mind whilst it all happened, correct?"

He nods albeit begrudgingly.

"Then you must have seen how I tried."

His right eyebrow cocks upwards ever so slightly. "Tried?"

Now it's your turn to be frustrated. "Tried to keep my distance, tried to ignore your advances, tried to refuse your gifts, tried to maintain a level of respect so the both of us would have some dignity remaining if you were to return some day. When I realised you would not stop with your persistence I accepted." You fumed - the fretful irritation you feel only increases by the second.

"Cut the crap." He snarls at you.

You want to snarl back with just as much impatience but you bite your tongue.

Maybe it's because it's late at night, maybe it's because you're fatigued or maybe it's because you already felt feverish and emotional - Honestly, any other reason apart from your husband turning his back on you and announcing you're a mongrel. Feeling light headed you clutch at your scalp harshly trying to control yourself, even Levi's firm hand which until recently held your left arm recoils away.

Falling to your knees you feel the way the floor grates against your bare legs. Your urge to pass out is nearly met but then you hear him.

"Honey???" The concern in his voice which had made you fall in love with him now repulses you.

Fists balling at your knees you silently sob, pitifully shaking your head.

This can't be your reality.

It can't be.

You won't let it be.

That night you find out nightmares can happen in real life.

Levi Ackerman being a prime example.

After the bitter encounter you leave the room and order Lev to not come after you, you need your own space and as much as you want him to return to his sweet, loving self it's pathetic to seek any comfort in him. That tyrant is bound to make another appearance soon enough and mock you for falling into his trap again, but really can you blame the man? Is this his fault or your own?

Whoever is at fault there will still come a time where the Levi you love won't come back and call you his Love. You'll have to get used to that bleak desolate reality. Assuming he doesn't kill you before you have to.

Day has now broken and the brisk morning air bites at you, scantily clad in your nightgown, It's abnormal, you think to yourself. The position you're in is one you imagined countless times but you never really thought you'd end up this way. You're about to drift off to sleep right there in the middle of the Estate's field of hydrangeas, too tired to actually care anymore when you hear a rustle from one of the surrounding bushes.

"Duchess?" Your head turns when you hear Mikasa's soft voice emerge from the hedges, she steps through them and you both stare at each other. Mouth open, gaping in shock she takes in your appearance. You can only imagine how you look right now. Dark eye bags, you aren't wearing your usual noble attire not to mention Levi has accidentally left a bruise on one of your arms. It's faint because it is accidental (you hope) it does not go unnoticed by Mikasa.

Her gaze hardens and she approaches your disheveled form kneeling in front of you.

"What happened?" She whispers, the panic is evident in her voice and you awkwardly chuckle in response.

"I had a horrible nightmare. That's all, honest."

"And it's Y/N need I remind you again?" Mikasa is big on respect and sure, it is cute but you want to remind her it really is okay to call you by your first name. After all you would consider her a friend, you hope she sees you the same way.

Giving you a look of disbelief she takes the hint that you don't want to talk about it but much to your delight she does take the advice regarding your name. She sounds hesitant but that's how she usually is, she'll get used to it in no time at all.

"Well...Y/N, Breakfast has been prepared." You can see the way she eyes your unkempt hair and shivering form. "Would you like to eat with me and Sasha?" this is her way of comforting you.

Your lips quirk up into a smile for the first time in a while.

"I would love that."

Twenty minutes and a change of clothes later you've all relocated to your tea room, Sasha doesn't ask questions about your hair or odd choice of clothing earlier this morning. The shadows Levi's fingers left on your arm are now carefully hidden by the sleeves of your baby blue dress. "Oh! Viscount Kirstein me and Y/N saw him yesterday. He's just like the rumours." Sasha exclaims as she stuffs her face with a croissant.

Mikasa takes a short sip from her tea cup. "And the rumours would be?"

You pick a cinnamon roll from the center of the table."Undeniably handsome. I mean he's not my type though."

Sasha looks momentarily confused. "He was drop dead gorgeous what do you mean?"

You laugh a bit at the disbelief on her face, Mikasa chooses to not intervene - she's obviously yet to come to her own conclusions about him.

"Yeah but you said it yourself he fucks anything in a skirt." Sasha, is wide eyed at first and chokes on part of her buttered croissant, you have never been so vulgar before. You guess the argument has left you more likely to voice your reckless thoughts. Snorting you try to keep your laugh in, the ghost of a smile makes its way to Mikasa's face and eventually she too dissolves into a puddle of laughter. The three of you laughing together genuinely eases the recent burden on your soul.

Just as you're about to crack another joke the door to your tea room rumbles.

BANG!  You seem to always be cut off when you're here because Eren Jaeger has burst inside perhaps for the seventh time this month. It's the same routine as usual, he's panting and catching his breathe before he speaks. You're in no mood to hear what he has to say.

"If the Duke has sent you please leave."

Mikasa gives him a "You better not ask any questions and take the damn hint" kind of look but bless Eren for he is completely and utterly clueless.

"It's urgent."

"Still rejecting." You hotly reply.

Mikasa icily interjects "Eren, would you stop being so bothersome?"

He looks between you and Mikasa helplessly. "The Duke says he expects your refusal but I can't return empty handed, I'll be given a punishment and it'll be worse than being made to clean the stables." He gives you a pleading look and he's so much younger than you, it makes you feel like he's your responsibility. Eren has a charming way of making himself feel like everyone else's annoying younger brother. You accept that he can't suffer because of your selfish denial.

Sighing deeply you take a final bite of your roll, if you're going to die you may as well do so on a full stomach. Before you depart you awkwardly get to your feet dusting your dress to buy some time as you bid Mikasa and Sasha goodbye.

You're now following Eren through the halls of the estate. Deep down inside, you know you aren't fearful. He won't kill you, not yet at least, he thinks you're a useful source of information relating to his external enemies, he would be stupid to overlook that detail. You'll exploit it for now, your key is survival, it always has and always will be that way.

Bumping into Eren's back you apologize for being absent minded, you swear the walk to Levi's office has always been much longer. He spares you a worried glance and looks as if he's about to offer you words of support but he stops himself before he opens the heavy door to Duke Ackerman's office. Perhaps he doesn't find it appropriate. Good, you think to yourself. You don't wish to hear motivation from anyone right now, it's nothing personal, it's that nothing can possibly be of motivation right now.

The door opens ever so slowly, your brain races making everything move at a sedated pace. Then you find yourself jolting upright in surprise. You soon realise expecting Levi to be the only person there was naive on your part. Eyes tensely land on the blonde in one of the cushioned caramel chairs. It's the Commander of the Empire's entire battalion — Erwin Smith.

Levi has ratted you out for sure, you spare a glance towards him and see the way he's trying to hide his feelings of amusement. You want to lunge over his desk and wipe that smug smirk off his face. The playful lilt in his usual unreadable expression is driving you mad. Next to Erwin is respected and high ranking Squad Leader Hange Zoe, you're quite well accustomed with them you've exchanged your fair share of words together and Hange has never failed to bring a smile to your face. The amusing air around them lights up any room they're in... Apart from this one that is.

Eren closes the door behind you and you're silent not really knowing what to do.

"Take a seat my beloved." Levi drawls. This isn't Lev you know that much, he's always enthusiastically jumping to his feet when he greets you.

Awkwardly sitting in the chair next to your husband you shake Hange's hand first then move to shake Erwin's. His warm palms envelope yours and he places a hand on your left shoulder. It's not at all similar to the way Levi held you earlier in the morning, the feeling is genuine. He has no ill intentions, all he seems to want to do is open a conversation.

"Y/N, we may not have much time but." He stops, unsure if it's for dramatics but you still intently listen.

The sea that is his blue eyes draws you in, you've only ever seen him from afar. If honesty and gentleness were a person it would be him no doubt about it.

He pats your shoulder and you snap out of your day dream. "Y/N. Thank you for your sacrifice and commitment to this Empire." His warm yet serious smile which follows simply confuses you, in fact this entire situation is doing that.

Jaw slacking you're dazed and bewildered, your thoughts are diverting in all sorts of direction now.

Whatever does he mean by sacrifice?

[revolxtionarygay]

I’m months late, lmao. Initially, I was like "Oh, I need time to process this," after watching the play, and then, upon thinking, I realized I wasn't as organized on the comparison as I would have liked. Anyways, this gets a little longer than I'd usually post, so I'm going to put the rest under a cut.

Now, the performance I saw in Paris plays the characters of Huis Clos straight out as Bad People, which I mean, come on, valid. They're all in Hell. They've all done decently heinous things. Estelle throwing the baby off the balcony. Inès sleeping with her cousin's wife and driving him to commit suicide. Garcin cheating on his wife, caring little for what she thought of him and instead preferring the approval of men who are shown to think little of him because he's no one to them. Etcetera, etcetera. I tend to read the characters as a little more sympathetic, but I won't deny it was fascinating to watch a downright cruel portrayal of the characters.

When I first read Huis Clos, I was tempted to put Juri, Shiori, and Ruka into what I now think would have been the most obvious comparisons to the play—Juri as Inès because they're both lesbians, Shiori as Estelle because they're the object of Juri's/Inès' attraction, and Ruka as Garcin because, hey, he's a guy searching for Juri's attention and getting the attention from Shiori (same as Garcin). But in a way, the cyclical way that Sartre posits the characters of Huis Clos ultimately makes it possible for Juri, Shiori, and Ruka to fill any of the roles in the play. Do I think the aforementioned character match-up is the most suited for them? Yeah, but I think it is possible to argue that Juri is Garcin / Shiori is Inès / Ruka is Estelle. If you wanted to argue that. I currently don't.

My favorite part of Huis Clos is not Garcin's moment where he declares that "Hell is other people," though that's obviously the most famous line. My favorite part of the entire play is when Garcin looks to Inès and begs her to forget about Estelle, to let go of her desire for Estelle, to let go of her hatred for him, so on and so forth. Garcin tells Inès, "It's a trap" (referring to Estelle), to which Inès responds, "I know. And you, you're a trap, too...and I am a trap."

Ultimately, while it doesn't fit them perfectly, this moment reminds decently of Ruka and Juri. Consider Ruka, sick and dying and using his final days in an attempt to "free" Juri from what binds her or whatever (sorry, I did not go back and rewatch the episodes). He knows the cycle of the duels and sees Shiori as she is, but he doesn't seem to realize that Juri knows it just as well. He tries to free her, but she doesn't want that from him. She knows the cycle of the duels; she's lost against Utena twice. She knows—or at least seems to be somewhat aware—that Shiori will pick someone that Juri isn't and that she can't change that, as much as it pains her. She knows. He knows. Shiori likely knows, too.

Juri even has the experience to know that, even without Ruka, this cycle would exist because it happened to her and Shiori back in middle school. Kind of like how in Huis Clos, every character has their own cycle of attention they're caught in before the events of the play.

If Juri is Inès, then is Shiori both her Estelle and Florence? Is Ruka the cousin she drove to suicide?

If Shiori is Estelle, then is Ruka both her Garcin and her fling (that she drove to suicide)? Is Juri the husband she avoids? Or is it the other way around?

And if Ruka is Garcin, the Juri must be his Gomez and Inès. Shiori, the wife he cares little for. (Somehow, this is the one that feels the most concrete, especially when compared to Shiori as Estelle).

I could go on and on and never really find an answer I fully like. But essentially, those are the most basic thoughts I have on Huis Clos and Juri, Shiori, and Ruka.

Someone who’s only ever read Huis Clos/No Exit watching the Juri-Shiori-Ruka arc in Revolutionary Girl Utena for the first time: oh my god it’s just like Huis Clos.

[bakubitch-minusultra]

Not Alone: Chapter Eleven

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want :P new character unlocked

-> Word Count: 2.1k

-> Warnings: none(?)

-> Taglist: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat @zphilophobiaz

The sun set as they reached the top of a hill she never climbed. It was in the opposite mountain range from where she had been and she was nervous of it. She didn’t know what lied on the other side. Her feet hurt and she was tired.

He layed a bunch of bows on the ground and gave Y/n a very appealing look. It made her stomach hurt.

She walked to where he had chosen to sleep and smiled at it. There were branches on the ground which made a mat for sleeping. He had chosen a huge tree with great bows to protect them in case it rained. He was like her father, more than she expected him to be. Not that she ever expected to meet him.

“They think you’re dead.”

He put the last bow down and sat on it. He took the jacket he had brought with him and put it down, patting it for Y/n to sit beside him. Her steps hurt her feet now that they had stopped walking. She dropped onto the ground beside him and watched his eyes sparkle as darkness took over the night sky. She tucked her bow and quiver next to her, always close.

“I was taken to the work farms. We were hiding in this old house like your farmhouse. I wasn’t smart like you though. I never thought about bunkers or having a few different houses and traveling between them. I was an idiot. Anyway they came. I hid Mina and Kirishima and let them take me.”

His face was stoic. She wanted him to kiss her again. She started to wonder if he was going to.

“How did you get away from the farms?”

“I met some people while I was there. Doctors who were forced to work the breeder camps and other scientists. They convinced me I needed to start a revolution from the outside. I escaped with some of him.” He shook his head, as if his thoughts entertained him and brushed his hand through his hair again. He looked at Y/n and smiled, “You know a good spot to clean up around here?”

She shook her head, “Never been here before. You’re starting a revolution?”

He nodded, “The camp we were just at is one of our peace camps. It’s like a retreat. The children and young and old stay there. We have people coming and going constantly. Didn’t you notice how easily you were welcomed?”

“I guess. I just thought that’s what people were like when they live in a camp like that. Aside from the machine gun escort that is.”

He laughed again. She liked the sound of it but it reminded her of Kirishima.

“Well that was a big wolf Y/n. How’d you end up with him?”

“His mother gave birth and must’ve gotten sick shortly after. Hades was waiting for me at the door of the cabin one day. He was tiny then. I could hear his brothers and sisters in the woods. I found the mother dead and half eaten surrounded by the other cubs who were weak and sick. It was awful. I shot them and burned them. It’s the closest the infection ever got to my cabin. He was immune anyway so that’s helpful.”

“He’s immune? Naturally? Maybe he never ate any of the mom.”

Y/n shook her head, “Nah, she wasn’t the only sick thing Hades has eaten. He likes the infected.”

He grimaced, “That’s disgusting. Disgusting and lucky all at the same time.”

“It is.”

“What do you know about the start of the infection?”

Y/n shrugged, “People got sick and some died but others lived and went a little crazy.”

His eyes looked dark as his expression lost its humor and the sun set completely. “No Y/n, people didn’t just get sick. The infection was spread on purpose. Everything that’s happened has been a plan all along.”

“That can’t be true.”

“I wish it weren’t. There was something called the United Nations. They did all of this.”

Y/n felt sick, “They were evil?”

“Not evil, just detached. The world was running out of resources and everyone was constantly putting a hand out to them and asking for aid and food and money. The UN had been warning us forever about global warming and the ice melting and the ocean becoming acidic. Anyway in 2012 all of Greenland's ice and snow melted in a week. The earth started to enter a drought. We thought it was a cyclical event but it wasn’t. It was man made. We had pushed it too far. The same time all this was happening, a conference was held in Rio about the environment. Canada, the US and China pretty much pulled out and admitted they had no intention of slowing their pollution to the recommended level. It would be too hard on their economies. That was the final straw. Apparently the UN had a backup plan for a worst-case scenario such as that. They had a plague. It had a vaccine, which made it easy to spread and then control. The problem was it mutated. They spread the virus at the same time they had bombs placed deep in the ocean along the Japanese coastline. They bombed the shelf and pretty much wiped Japan off the face of the earth and made the west coast of North America a target for huge tidal waves.”

It felt like a movie to Y/n. It didn’t feel real. It felt like the ramblings of her father, before.

“How could you know all this?”

“The work farms. I met people who had been part of the initial plan. The plan was to reset everything. Instead the UN decided they wanted to start humanity over but set it up to succeed this time. The breeder farms were built where only the fit and healthy were allowed to reproduce."

She shivered just imagining it.

Bakugo laughed, “It isn’t what you think. I know what everyone thinks happens but it’s not. The girls only breed every three years and only up to three times. The pregnancy isn’t the result of rape, it’s done using science. The baby is made in a lab and then inserted into the woman’s womb.” Y/n gagged and Bakugo laughed. “The religious had the same reaction. The UN never mentioned this plan to anyone but the very high ups. It never went well.”

“The girls are still taken against their will and made to make babies against their will.”

She saw his head nod in the dark, “Yup and the babies are not God’s children to the Christians. Anyway the UN runs the military but again, they sit in their closed office and plan using numbers and facts and data. They don’t leave it to see what the world looks like or how corrupt the military is. They’ve built six cities world wide from the ashes and rubble of previous cities. They plan on cleaning every inch of the world.

Y/n’s head was spinning, “What about the borderlands?”

“They can’t use anymore bombs without affecting the weather and pollution again, so the plan stands at leaving us to our own devices until they have this part of the world cleaned up. Then they’ll come round us up.”

“Why?”

“They want the diseases and illnesses bred out. They won’t allow those people to live and breed.”

“Oh my god it’s like a nightmare.”

“It is. On that note, we need sleep. You sleep first and I’ll keep watch.”

“That’s some bedtime story.” She liked Kirishima’s better. He laughed and Y/n watched his silhouette in the dark for a moment. He didn’t lean in to kiss her. He was watching the hill they climbed. “How long have they been breeding science babies?”

His outline turned to her and she saw the shine of his eyes in the dark,”A long time.”

“Are the babies different than the rest of us?”

“Yeah.”

The broken branches led them to a camp in a valley on the opposite side of the mountain where her farmhouse sat. The size of the camp was disturbing. Bakugo smiled as he saw it and walked directly up to the man holding the gun amid the trees.

“Halt.”

“Oi dunce face!” Bakugo shouted.

The gunman smiled, “No shit, Bakugo you’re alive. I heard they caught you.”

Bakugo laughed, “They think they did. Is Monoma still in charge?”

The man Bakugo called dunce face pointed to the camp, “He’s still in the smallest tent, you know what he’s like. Still paranoid they’ll bomb us.”

Bakugo laughed and pointed towards Y/n, “This is my friend Y/n.” She felt hurt when he called her his friend. She didn’t know why but the word stung.

“I’m Denki,” He put a hand out and Y/n noticed he had a nice smile. She met his golden eyes and smiled back, “Nice to meet you.” His eyes flickered to Bakugo and an even bigger smile crossed his lips, “So where’d ya two meet?”

She looked at Bakugo.

“She walked up to the mountain retreat the other day with a huge wolf for a pet and an unruly teenager.”

Denki’s eyes grew wide, “You have a wolf?”

She nodded. She wanted to find Mina and Kirishima. She didn’t understand why Bakugo wasn’t busting inside to see them. She felt herself fidget in place,

“Well I’m gonna go see Monoma and see what’s new on this side of the hill.”

They walked toward the camp as the sound of birds squawking filled the forest. The gunmen lower their weapons as they hear the sound and they walk past them. The camp opened as the forest spread thin. It looked like the camp they were at before except that everyone was wearing a firearm or knife. At one point Y/n swore she saw a sword. There were no children here.

“Bakguo! You’re alive!”

A girl with long blonde hair and cut off shorts ran and jumped into his arms. Y/n’s heart stopped as she watched the girl kiss his lips. The lips that only just kissed Y/n the day before. She felt heat radiating from her cheeks. She heard about men who weren’t tied down in romance novels and felt sick thinking that she had fallen for one. All the years of reading the novels and judging the ladies who seemed strong and smart and then fell for a jerk. Reality hurts. She wanted Kirishima and Mina and her cabin and Hades and Jirou. She wanted to let the world kill itself and hide up in the mountains. She never wanted to kiss Bakugo again. She couldn’t believe she was so reckless.

“Camie what the hell. You know me better than that,” He twirled her around and looked sheepishly at Y/n, “This is Y/n.” Y.n nodded and gripped her bow.

Camie beamed at her, “Wow nice find Bakugo, He save you from the farms too?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “I don’t need a hero.”

Camie looked at Bakugo, who was staring at Y/n. Y/n walked past him and started to look around. If he didn’t want to find his friends then that’s his problem. Y/n would be damned if she would let them live another moment without the knowledge that their asshole of a friend was alive and well.

“You pissed at me?” Y/n didn’t turn and continued along, eyes desperately searching the crowds of people.

“Bakugo.” He shook hands with a very tanned man with the whitest smile Y/n had ever seen. People continued to greet him, but she couldn’t hear them anymore. She saw what she was looking for. She saw a tall guy limping with shaggy red hair. She broke into a run and dived into his arms when she was close enough to him.

As she made contact he turned. His face was exactly as she remembered it. He had her in his arms before she could speak a word.

“Y/n oh my god. Y/n it’s you. Holy shit I thought they got you.” He was planting kisses everywhere across her face.

“Where’s Mina?”

Kirishima’s kisses stopped but his grip on her face was still strong, “They took her.” Y/n felt her heart drop and wanted to collapse into his arms and sub.

“Shitty hair.”

Kirishima dropped to his knees in front of Y/n. His hands left her face and fell onto the tops of his knees.

“Bakugo? Bakugo is that you?”

Bakugo rushed at him and lifted him up. He pulled him into his embrace. The friend’s hug was fierce but all she heard was the sentence ‘they took her’ repeating in her mind.

Kirishima looked back at her, “You found him?”

Y/n shook his head, she had no words. They hug and cry and laugh but she was stunned. Finally able to speak, she muttered, “Where’d they take her?”

Their reunion no longer meant anything to Y/n.

[vampiresuns]

A Songbird Sings, The World Could End | Part 2

✴︎ A SONGBIRD SINGS, THE WORLD COULD END: PART 2 ✴︎

2.3k words. Now in the Magical Realms, Leon and Anatole decide to work together trying to keep the Hierophant’s realm standing for as long as possible. Leon is upset at their own feelings, and the Hierophant reads him for filth.

Leon (He/They) is @apprenticealec​‘s. This fic is best paired with Honest, by Joseph.

You can read Part 1 here.

Leon had air magic.

Leon could cross distances quicker than the average person, if they so desired. It happened to be that he desired such a thing now — in a game of miscalculations, neither Anatole nor him aligned their timing, emotionally overwhelmed and with their own priorities in mind. 

When Anatole spoke to him, something old and angry had snapped in Leon, there to tell him Anatole was just like everybody else, sitting on his high horse with his duty, eventually leaving him alone for reasons which just didn’t make sense. Rage in Leon was vast, more accessible than grief, and for a moment it terrified him. It terrified him to see himself give Anatole, his Anatole, the cold shoulder, even if another part of him thought he deserved it. 

Yet there was another part of him, a part tender and open, starved for Anatole’s presence, following him like religious people in Vesuvia followed the various chimes of the City’s many temples. It was the part of him that had made him go after him that night Camia had gone to the market, travelling all day to drop himself at his door. It was the part of him that had cried and crumbled in front of him, because he knew he would listen. Anatole never said a word he didn’t mean, Anatole never did anything half-way. 

It was the part of him who touched him under the starry nights in Camia’s hut, trying to commend the shape of his face to memory — the softness of his lips, the slope of his nose, the light change of texture in his scars. The way his cheeks filled when he smiled, or the way his throat vibrated when he laughed. That part of him, against all odds, rose against the other and said: “You’re wrong. He loves me, and if the world ends, there will be no world for him to love me in.”

It was just as paralysing, albeit in a completely different way. He was still angry at Anatole. He was still upset he didn’t tell him any of this before, or that he assumed so many things about Leon’s own feelings — granted, Leon hadn’t said anything too, but that didn’t mean Anatole could just assume when Leon had done all those things, when he had given himself so willingly. This specific source of terror came from losing him, and the horror that followed as they stood in an empty hallway, thinking they might have lost him anyway. It propelled Leon forward like he was fighting for his life. He couldn’t let Anatole think he didn’t care. Leon knew they would not be able to live with themselves if that happened.

Leon did not know what the hell Anatole saw in Vesuvia, or in any City, ever. They were all people just trying to survive, with their momentary distractions, and Leon doubted they stopped a second of their days to actually consider Anatole at all. He couldn’t even say Anatole did it in some sort of saviour-complex stunt, because it would be both wrong and offensive to Anatole as a person.

He didn’t understand; right then he was feeling too much to keep track of his thoughts, but even in this overwhelming fog he found himself in, he realised that even if he was right, and Anatole was insignificant (even if thinking it felt wrong), he would not forgive himself for becoming a reason why he felt that way. He would hate Anatole thinking he didn’t deserve all the love in the world, thinking that it is wrong of him to care. Even if Leon sometimes thought he cared too much about things Leon did not comprehend.

The realisation that he loved him too much to not do this, all of it, with him, that pulled Leon forward. It was Anatole’s voice in his ears saying that the point of having a future was to live it with Leon. It was that Leon not understanding why he hoped and dreamt what he did, deep down those hopes and dreams weren’t stupid to Leon, because they were Anatole’s. Leon could forgive the world, maybe, because Anatole existed in it.

That’s how he ended sitting on Anatole’s stomach after throwing the two of them into his gate, the gush of wind from his own magic shutting the door behind them, making the gate inaccessible without Anatole to open it from outside.

Anatole thrashed underneath him, and Leon moved as soon as he realised that he couldn’t breathe. 

Not far away from them, Fishraya gently flew closer to the ground so she could let Antu down safely. It was the first time he did not puff and hissed at her. It wasn’t nothing Fishraya had done to make Antu on edge near her, he had always been scared of Fish’s size. He tended to be scared of things which were bigger than him and could grab him from above without giving him a chance to fight back. 

“Why did you do that?” 

“You gave me no choice!”

“What the hell are you talking about, Leon?”

“Well, arguing you isn’t getting me anywhere — don’t groan at me that way, I’m still upset at you —”

The sound of disbelief and indignation that escaped Antole’s mouth would’ve made Leon laugh in any other circumstance. “Upset?!”

“Please just let me say this, Nana,” the plea in Leon’s voice was so tangible, Anatole couldn’t do anything but to let him speak.

“I don’t understand you. Sometimes I think I do, but then I realise that I don’t. I don’t understand what it is about your job, your place in society or whatever else you call it that makes you do these things. I don’t because I never had anything like that, and sometimes I think we are so different we’re not going to work out…” Leon paused, a knot in his throat as he came closer to Anatole, his hands resting on his face. He tensed, but he didn’t push Leon away.

“Please tell me there’s a but there. I can’t handle collapsing realms and emotional overcharge.”

“If you have to do this, then take me with you. I don’t understand why you’re doing this, but I know it’s important to you.”

“You can’t just say those things and—”

“Yes, yes I can.”

“You’re terrible. You’re being terrible right now.”

“Why, thank you.”

Anatole shook his head. “I think I hated arguing with you, even if the conversation will have to wait.”

There was a rumble from the forest behind them that pried Anatole away from Leon’s touch. 

“I don’t think we have time to go retrieve my family.”

“I wouldn’t risk it either.”

“It’s just you and me, then?

Leon paused, turning to Anatole’s direction, and smirking.

“Just us, we’ll make it work. What direction is the Hierophant’s realm?”

“East.”

Fishraya was already onto Leon’s train of thought, carrying Antu into that direction, as her magician took Anatole’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Have you ever felt what it’s like to run with the help of air magic?”

“No?”

“Well, you’re about to find out.”

✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎

Anatole had never seen The Hierophant’s temple so desolated. The old Ram was waiting for them, surprise overtaking his features as he saw Anatole arrive alone with Leon.

“I was expecting a bigger entourange.”

“A mishap,” Anatole said.

The Hierophant simply took a drink from his glass of wine, smiling. “Lovers' quarrels are easily resolved with a common cause. Welcome to my realm, Leon, or whatever is left of it.”

The Hierophant excused himself — he suspected he couldn’t help them much to slow the process of decay, as he needed to concentrate the remains of his power in aiding Alec and Lucio, but if he was not needed, he would turn to aid them. It would be only Leon and Anatole, they’d have to be enough, the weight of it making both of them feel like their skin was being pricked by something invisible. Anatole hated the sensation, but powered through it: in the face of incommensurable tasks he did what he always did, steel his heels, divide them into chunks, building up strategy until he had a fully formed picture.

He would do the impossible twice, or at least, he would try.

After some awkward lingering he turned to Leon. There was work to be done. The plan was simple: they would use wards. It would at least buy them time to protect the realm from falling. The longer it stood, the longer others would take to be taken, the more time Alec would have.

“Let’s just hope Valdemar themselves doesn’t make an appereance,” Anatole grimanced.

Their wards were different in structure but they’ll have to do. They fractioned the territory, so they would go at it quicker, sometimes the Hierophant coming to them to chat. Breaking Valerius’ chains and his willingness to set things on track gave the Hierophant some of his strength back; a “Not so bad place to start” as the Ram himself said. 

“The intention was in the right place. Sometimes you need a little push to turn a situation… upright.” 

Anatole ignored the pun with the exasperated fondness only someone who had a close relationship to someone else could have.

However, the Hierophant’s main focus this was on Leon. Except for a couple remarks to Anatole here and there, he followed Leon with his eyes, and struck him in conversation when it did not seem to interfere with his work. For example, when he paused his own tasks to feel Anatole’s magic around them.

“His magic is stronger here. Not the strongest but stronger,” the Hierophant said, sneaking up on Leon. “I assume so it would be in the realm of your patron. May I guess?” 

“Sure,” said Leon. 

“A knighthood, swords.” 

“You already knew.” 

“Yet, you entertained me.” 

“Why?” 

“Why what, child?” 

Leon’s brow quirked in amusement. “I am not a kid, am I?” 

“Next to me, you are. I am older than you will ever be, even if right now, I could die. You asked why. I asked what reason you seek.” 

“Why would it be stronger here or there? I don’t really believe in all of this to begin with.” 

The Hierophant laughed. “It’s less about belief, and more about fact. Humanity is cyclic, and as complex as simple as the answer you seek: those of us who come in contact with someone who is loved by our beneficiaries, become partial to them.” 

The Hierophant paused, taking some drinks from his glass. Leon stood there in silence, not daring to ask if his love was that obvious. The Hierophant cleared his throat. “That, and he is actually incredibly adept at the magic he himself has chosen, but,” a smile, “pride and true humbleness coexist in him. He’d make a great beneficiary of my own, alas. If you excuse me.” 

Leon got back to work, layer after layer of magic, he felt his and Anatole’s merge in a single thing, seamless, welcoming each other home. Leon’s head was swimming with thoughts, but at least their hands were busy.

Home, they thought: was Anatole home? How many homes had they lost? Themselves and him, both. Leon was abandoned, found, abandoned and found, he himself living in a constant wheel of being lost and returning someplace for the sake of some faces.

When words failed him, Leon acted. He didn’t know what Alec was doing with Lucio, he didn’t know what Alec was doing, period, but if he could give her even five more minutes, he would. He didn’t know what Anatole saw in the world to make him so in love with it, but if this would give him a chance to live in it, then he would. He didn’t know how Camia woke up every morning and decided to live on, to carry forward a destiny she had had to fight for, so the people who were called to protect her didn’t take it from her. If he could give Camia one more morning, he would. 

He even thought of Jamil, and as much as he still hated how he didn’t say goodbye that one time, for once he thought that maybe goodbye wasn’t needed — it was a see you soon. Alec needed him, as Alec needed Leon now, even if she didn’t know nor remembered. If Leon could give Jamil one more catch up, one more smile upon seeing Camia’s hut in the horizon, he would. 

The feeling was disgusting, it disgusted him, and yet he didn’t want anyone to pry it away from his hands ever; if someone tried, he’d bite them. 

Maybe this was how Anatole felt, all the time. Maybe it was the reason why he tattooed Love Conquers All on his chest. He groaned; if Anatole made him love the world, he was going to spend the rest of his life making his impossible for it. No, he would not think of the implications of that, of spending the rest of his life besides him.

Damn him for throwing him into things he didn’t understand. Damn him for making him like it. 

When he was finally done, he found Anatole already waiting for him, sitting on some steps. Leon sat with him, neither of them saying anything for a moment. 

Leon broke the silence first. “What are you thinking about?”

“My family has a vineyard not unlike this one back in Balkovia.” 

Leon hummed. Their next words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, let alone make sense of them. “I was born in the Fennekh desert, I think. I don’t know. I used to speak Zadithi. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

Silence fell between them again. This time, Anatole broke it, his voice watery as he spoke. “I’m sorry about the way I acted earlier. I shouldn’t have exploded like that on you.” 

“You didn’t explode, you just talked,” Leon laced their fingers together, bringing the back of Anatole’s hand to his lips. “That’s what you do when you’re overwhelmed. Or nervous. You talk.” 

“Still. Are you still upset with me?” 

“Are you?” 

He sighed. “I am upset that it all had to be this way. I keep feeling like I could’ve done better, but I didn’t, and now we’re here, and perhaps we would be here anyway. Now answer the question, Leon.” 

“I am, but not at what you think.” Leon exhaled, finding that tendril of courage now in his heart, a tendril warm like the rays of the sun on his skin. “It upsets me more that you would assume I don’t love you back, or that you don’t matter to me.”

Leon sighed. “It’s all very mushy and disgusting, but I suppose it’s—“ 

Anatole’s lips had found his own, and they were kissing him like he was his anchor to this world, with an intensity and a passion so unyielding it made Leon want to melt at the realisation he was its sole depositary. Leon couldn’t finish his sentence, nor he remembered how he wanted to finish it. 

Anatole, like him, had a hunger more ravenous than most, a hunger for something undetermined and overwhelming that Leon knew too well. 

When Anatole kissed him like this, Leon felt like that hunger might finally satiate. When Anatole kissed him like this, Leon felt like it would all turn out alright, even if somewhere around the edge of the realms, one of their wards had begun to break.

[empyreal-insights]

Border Jumping: In It, Not Of It

{Border Jumping, part 1}  .  Esthero, one of my favorite singer/songwriters, posted a song on IG, “Great Version of Me”:  

They say I’ve got “spark”  They say I’ve got “magic” They say I’ve got all the things that I need, and if I want it, I have it

They say I’ve got heart And a light that surrounds it, but I’m lost in the dark Did you happen to notice? 

I need something good to happen to me ‘Cause I can’t stop drowning When will I feel like all the things they see?  When will I be this “great” version of me? 

I’ve tried so hard, tried to live it and own it Kept staring ahead, pretended how great things have been going

But I’ll let you in on my intimate moments:  I feel alone Mostly, I feel forgotten I need something good to happen to me ‘Cause I can’t stop drowning When will I feel like all the things they see? When will I be this “great” version of me?

‘Cause I can’t go back And I’m scared to move When will I feel like all the things they see in me? When will I live so gracefully?  When will I have what’s coming to me? 

I need something great to happen I wanna meet this great version of me. 

Wanna meet her so bad Great version of me

I spent a lot of time fighting against myself because of this feeling. Here’s some of what I learned when I was dancing between breaking down and breaking through.  

Find Your (Higher) Power I’ve tried so hard, tried to live it and own it Kept staring ahead, pretended how great things have been going But I’ll let you in on my intimate moments: I feel alone Mostly, I feel forgotten

I know folks have issues with God. But if you’re resonating with this message, understand that you’ll require a relationship with Source / a Higher Power / Creative Force (1). 

If you can’t wrap your head around having faith in the concept of a God-Force, the next best thing is to master some form of energetic literacy through mindfulness, tai chi, meditation, martial arts, pranic healing, reiki, or a similar methodology. 

Do not intellectualize this. You can start with a book or two, but eventually you need to choose something, then find someone that can teach you how to do it. You must learn to see Energy as barometer, master key, and mother tongue.

Why? Because your lessons, blessings, and karmic resolution are meant to play out between you and Source, with a thin veil between you and some of the "typical” human experiences (2). Energetic literacy gives you the language to stay in communion with Source, and this relationship will sustain you when people will not or cannot. 

Go With Your Flow  When will I feel like all the things they see in me?  When will I live so gracefully?  When will I have what’s coming to me?

You can’t move like everyone else. You’re on a whole other timetable - one that more closely mirrors the spiritual world. I realize that in some western spiritualities this can translate to a commitment to austerity or asceticism, which I clearly reject.  

While in this process, it helps to be able to soothe and comfort yourself on demand, in the healthiest ways you can manage. There’s enough to figure out without adding deprivation to the list. 

Also, don’t feel like you have to be happy all the time. Create space to cry, wail, grieve, and lament. The song that inspired this is a perfect example. I write. You might make art. Just make sure the pain passes through. Don’t dwell in it - that’s how you start to feel stuck.  

Chironically wounded shadow workers - those of us that long to fit in and experience the belonging others take for granted - often never asked to be set apart, but we keep finding ourselves in that position (3). Acceptance eases some of the loneliness and gives us the patience to wait our turn.      

The good news: you are exquisitely protected. Respect that. Don’t chase people who leave; don’t force yourself into incompatible spaces; don’t beg to be understood. 

This is why your relationship with Source is nonnegotiable - you need to know exactly who and what is working in your life, where They're guiding you, what to avoid, and how to call upon and respect that Power when necessary. Acting in accordance with this understanding will help your life move more effortlessly.  

Be Grateful  I need something good to happen to me ‘Cause I can’t stop drowning When will I feel like all the things they see? When will I be this “great” version of me?

You know how the spiritual folks talk about being thankful for every little thing? Do that. 

When you're hollowed out from that weeping and wailing? Take a breath (or a nap), then give thanks.

To live long enough to get all the good things waiting for you - ‘cause some of us blossom well after 35 (4) - you must learn to cling to gratitude as if you’re dangling off a cliff and help is at least 30 seconds away. 

The good things are happening, will continue to happen. You may not have everything you want, but do you have most of what you need? Thank what sustains you: food (say grace), pets, friends, plants...whatever you have. You must learn to see the joy along the way because our despair can be fatal.  

Again, it’s natural to feel anger, frustration, jealousy, and whatever else. Observe it, resolve it, and keep it moving. Be as human as you need to be in any given moment, but always, always, always return to gratitude. 

Welcome Your Awakening They say I’ve got “spark”  They say I’ve got “magic”  They say I’ve got all the things that I need, and if I want it, I have it

They say I’ve got heart And a light that surrounds it, but I’m lost in the dark Did you happen to notice?

Yes, I noticed. You’re not crazy or arrogant for realizing that you’re different. Your energy's legit, that's why people react to it so definitively. 

Accept that reactivity is often the limit of human capacity. They’ll be fascinated, dazzled, but fall short of being able to hold you, love you, or define you. 

But soon - after some dark days and some unbelievably beautiful ones - it won’t hurt so much. You’ll know where to receive comfort, love, and understanding. You’ll discover your work, your people, your place, and that great version of you. 

...

(1) Source is becoming a preferred term when sharing these thoughts because (a) the name Osun, one of my primary deities, derives from a Yoruba word meaning, “the source,” (b) I have a deep relationship with water, which is considered a/the source of life - perhaps the most important after air itself, and ( c ) it feels less loaded and/or culturally specific than “God.” Your parents - most especially your mother - can be considered your Source. Food, clothing, shelter... sources of survival. That, in my opinion, is the kind of emotional connection and relationship that allows us to interact and commune with the Divine in the most intimate, healing, healthy, and hopeful ways. 

(2) Certain aspects of Hindu and Buddhist philosophy have an intricate way of explaining why some are meant to perpetuate the needs and desires of daily / cyclical human life, while others are meant to work and live more closely with Source. I use these as examples because certain texts and concepts within these traditions have been translated and interpreted for a western audience over the last 40-50 years, and may be more immediately accessible than other ideologies. If you go for the ancient texts first, just know you’ll need to filter through what I call the “human shit” (sexism, politics of the era) to get to the underlying truths that can help you deepen your spiritual practices. (sidebar: I think this is what those “caste” systems were SUPPOSED to be about - interpreting the flow of human life and integrating our unique, personal destinies into an overarching social construct, not oppression and domination. But, humans love a hierarchy.)

(3) In contrast to the “fuck the world” cynics, loners, or folks with outsized egos willful enough to claim places they didn’t earn. And, hell, that energy has its place. They seem to have it easier, right? But we’re all prone to thinking the grass is greener where we don’t have to water it. 

(4) Why do you think elder-ship is revered in so many pre-colonial / indigenous cultures? Youth has its advantages, but most of us have to grow into ourselves, and that takes time. Even when you’re blessed with precocious emotional intelligence, there are some things you only learn through living. Allow yourself the grace to move through life at your divine pace.

[soaptunes]

my top 75 quarantine records: 75-66

wahoo! we actually begin this list with a controversial lowball rank, i think. bandcamp links as always where applicable!

#75. doom - born like this (2009) the masked mc's first appearance on this list comes with what i regard as his weakest solo album, actually his final one as well. this is a much darker effort than most of his other records, his verses spinning more genuinely twisted and gross yarns than his usual cartoonish villainy. it is also worth mentioning that there is an entire song on this that's dedicated to being homophobic, specifically towards, uh, batman? there's enough great wordplay and slinky beats on this thing to satisfy, though, and i did enjoy it. worth a listen just for the tracks where doom decides to kick it into his top form.

#74. the lemon twigs - do hollywood (2016) half beatles worship, half pure cabaret silliness, the lemon twigs for me are an extremely hit or miss band. i think they miss slightly more than they hit on this record, as they have a tendency to cover a lack of strong songwriter with extended noodling instrumental passages. THAT SAID, when they hit, they hit hard enough to make you forget they ever missed - the formula does work, provided they actually stick to it and don't lose the plot.

#73. car seat headrest - how to leave town (2014) similarly to doom, car seat headrest was an artist that i decided to check out the back catalogue of, and found it extremely rewarding!!! how to leave town was one of the lower-impact ones for me, just because of how dense and long-winded some of the songwriting can be. that's not necessarily a detractor for a lot of people, but it's hard for it to sustain my attention for that long. that said (becoming my catchphrase), it has so many amazing moments of pure catharsis that the project is still super compelling as a full listen. as individual tracks though, if you're not in for an hour, they tend to lose me.

#72. third eye blind - s/t (1997) i think there are a lot of people on this earth who would have my head for ranking this above how to leave town, but i really did enjoy this just a little bit more. it's not perfect, again, not every song hits, but when it does hit it is muscular, catchy as hell, and a good precursor of where the better side of scraggly pop-punk like PUP and knuckle puck would go in the next few decades. the guitar tones on this thing are way better than they have any right to be, too, what a satisfying flavor of crunch.

#71. molchat doma - etazhi (2018) if you liked the genuine viral hit "sudno" enough to check out the full album, you'll probably like the rest of it too. molchat doma's coldwave sound is down to a formula here, as listening to the full record repeatedly can get... well, repetitive, but each individual song IS worth it on its own. this is a really good album for playlistification, the hooks hit and the songs totally work, it's just a lot of the time they all fall into a similar niche. this is a problem that i think they fix on their much better followup, monument - which is unfortunately ineligible for this list 'cuz i listened to it right when it came out - but etazhi is more than good enough to represent the dark and gloomy fun i had with molchat doma this year.

#70. ministry - psalm 69: the way to succeed & the way to suck eggs (1991) the 90s industrial scene was a scene that i knew absolutely nothing about, and had very little motivation to get into, since i was born just a tick late to experience it and it seemed kind of like a "you had to be there" thing. it took halfway-befriending a bizarre older coworker who lived and breathed industrial music to get me to actually check some stuff out, and i'm happy to report, you don't have to have been there to get it. if you have a tolerance or love for punishing, breakneck beats, crunched-to-shit guitars, and devilishly soothsaying lyrical content, ministry is probably up your alley. definitely something to lose your mind in the pit to.

#69. hotel mira - divorce (2016) this one caught me totally off guard. soundwise they're nothing special, a pretty standard hard-rock leaning alternative group (who recently changed their name away from the turbo-cringe jpnsgrls), but their melodic sense is some of the sharpest and catchiest ive heard in this style in a long time. damn near every song on this is sticky as hell, and they cover a huge range of emotional ground, from barn-burning romantic odes, to stoner anthems, to this one, which uses a circus as a metaphor for performing in your daily life when you're suffering from depression. shoutout especially to the charisma of the singer, who doesn't have the most amazing voice in the world but makes up for it with dynamism, character, and passion to spare.

#68. the drums - abysmal thoughts (2017) jonny pierce has a remarkable gift for making teeth-rottingly sugary songs that conceal layers of eerie darkness underneath them. whether it's the oddly sinister videos, the emotional strings, the cyclical song structures, the unsettling phrasing and acidic bite on some of the lyrics... there's a lot of strange touches all over this jangly, surfy, catchy as fuck record, and it makes for a breakup album that keeps you on your toes the entire run. it's only this low because of a few unmemorable songs, but this is definitely my favorite drums album.

#67. panic! at the disco - vices and virtues (2011) there may be later panic albums that attained more commercial success by hewing more to the pop side than the oddball side, and there may be earlier panic albums that lost themselves a bit by hewing to the oddball side and getting caught in fanciful concepts that didn't give their sharp hooks enough room to breathe. for my money, though, this may just be the finest of them all, one where brendon's pure pop and vocal acrobatics share equal room with his sole remaining bandmate's punk inclinations and their shared love of theatrics, and neither buries the other. super underrated album in Serious Critical Circles.

#66. hayden thorpe - diviner (2019) look. i will be honest with you. do i miss wild beasts? yes, absolutely, they were one of my favorite bands for a long, long time, and this hayden thorpe solo album can't quite replace the absence of the full group. buuuuut..... was a huge part of why wild beasts appealed to me over other similar bands thorpe's striking and distinctive falsetto? yes. am i glad i can still scratch that itch with new stuff? holy shit, yes. this album is quiet, reflective, and emotionally open, and hayden's voice is as rich ever. i'm fine with this outcome as long as i can still hear him.

tune in next time for 65 thru 56!