#poem referred to at the start is

[hppymnday]

I couldn’t sleep so I was scrolling around and found this…

and wrote this… (very rushed, once again not proofread, very messy blurb)

In the dead of night, when Gotham was the quietest it could be, and if he was lucky enough to slip into a nightmare-less sleep, his fantasies would take hold. Silly little moments his mind conjured, most if not all of them about you. Perusing a corner store for snacks with you, on the bus whispering to each other about something. He could never quite remember the entirety of the illusion when he awoke. Only a brief clip of it and the fading feeling of safety would stay with him.

Safety, the thought always made him scoff. There was no such thing as safe in Gotham, he knew that. The familiar sound of punches being thrown in a dark alley and gory news stories taught him better. An almost constant sense of discomfort had a funny way of crawling into his life.

Was it so wrong for these dreams to give him a brief moment of peace? A break from the endless sounds of the city and his own smothering thoughts. A gift he would’ve prayed for at an earlier point in his life. Why was it that after every time he opened his eyes in the morning and savored the remnants of you, he would feel guilty? Perverted almost, as if he’d been dreaming more.. vulgar senecios with you.

Yet these moments were perhaps even more unobtainable than those. They were sweet, sickly sweet, and offered a kinder version of his life he knew he didn’t deserve. Warm skin, gentle smiles, he wouldn’t flinch when you touched him in these dreams. He could hold your hand, you’d let him, slightly swinging them as you walk along. Or at least that’s what he thinks he’d do, his own imagination filling in the blanks of what he doesn’t remember.

He has a favorite. One where he stayed in bed for hours after waking up, desperately clawing at the sheets and his hair, trying to go back to that perfect mirage.

You two were in his apartment only cleaner, lighter in every sense of the words. There were no ledgers left on the floor or scratch of rats in the walls. And he felt as if he could finally breathe, there was no yelling, no one telling him what to do.

He was reading something, you were too. Sitting side by side, backs against the wall, legs touching under the covers. Something happens and the books disappear and the rest of the room dissolves into nothing as you settle your head in his lap. And he brushes the hair out of your face, you smile.

Then he wakes up.

Whenever he thinks about these fantasies during the day he gets nauseous. Heavy breathing accompanied by the repeated phrase of “I shouldn’t” makes him spiral.

“You should be ashamed,”

“Why? For wanting to feel safe?”

And because he knows that yes, he should be, he swallows and forgets about the weight of you resting on him.

[sukugo]

Gojo gives a note to sukuna like : "I wanted to write

A cute hikyu for you

Do you wanna smash?"

He does not, in fact, end up smashing he gets a long winded passionate lecture about the art of poetry and tries hollow purple-ing himself halfway through

GDJDHDJDJFFHFDJF worst part is, gojo IS capable of good poetry. and sukuna know this. but he likes lecturing (and poetry), even though satoru spends 90% of the time talking back and finishing sukuna's sentences, giving supposed correcting comments (that get debated. and then debated back. and so on and so forth)

but sukuna keeps at it, and satoru does learn quite a few things. technicalities that instantly improve his verse. or at least align it more towards heian era style poetry. sukuna is proud.

and THEN they fuck. obviously

[ravencromwell]

The poem evokes human greatness and human vulnerability. People are “godlike” in their courage and skill, but even the greatest mortals fall and clutch the dust between their bloody fingers. The beautiful word minunthadios , “short-lived,” is used of both Achilles and Hector, and applies to all of us. We die too soon, and there is no adequate recompense for the terrible, inevitable loss of life. Yet through poetry, the words, actions, and feelings of some long-ago brief lives may be remembered even three thousand years later.

--Emily Wilson's introduction to the Iliad

[fearandhatred]

fandom: good omens

word: worship

I HAVE FINALLY DONE IT copied straight from my notes app babey!! this may seem like just a sad poem but it's really crowley spiraling into a toxic inferiority mindset within the 10 whole seconds that they kiss. i did not mean it to take that turn but next to all the emotions in my brain is this entity called Dark Thoughts that turns the whole console black with one touch. anyway thank u bestie for the word prompt sorry it took five years

<3

Worn delicate but strong on your smallest finger, a golden halo of a ring that dug through layers of cloth into my spine when i kissed you. it was the first time i felt the touch of your hardened hands on my body, pressing me to you like i could be consumed whole, like you could breathe me into your soul and nestle me in your lungs, like i could become your air. and for a moment, it felt like we were

One. like we were the paths of two comets destined to intersect once and then never again; or perhaps like the odd bullet that gets lodged inside another midair, and doesn't make it out the other side alive. and it felt as if i knew for the first time a purpose beyond existence, beyond love: to worship. to worship you.

Resuscitation has never felt so explosive, so stuffed full with fearsome grace with the same force by which it was ripped from me. and i know now that i will never be the same unless i have this one thing, this reason to live and also to die.

So i'll worship you, from now till the death of time. and when every one of your touches burns with holiness, when you scald my tongue with spit, i'll welcome you on my knees to set me aflame.

Have me in all the ways, split me open on the altar as evidence of my humility, make me repent. forgive me.

I understand now, i understand, it's in my blood to submit, in my nature to crawl on my belly and eat the dust left behind. and i will, and maybe i can do it right this time—i will drag myself behind you with my hands clawing the carpeted shadows of your footsteps, break the bottle open to anoint your head. i'll worship you, skin to skin, soul for soul, if it means you'll stay.

Please—

[helifreds]

Ok so, I'm just very curious to know other people opinion and for this reason I'll ask you THE question👀

In your personal headcanon, who do you consider older between Face and Murdock?

Let's just leave out Dirk and Dwight real ages, simply take as reference the characters themselves - this is something that I suppose we all asked ourselves at least once... and since there are no sure infoes from the show (for Murdock at least) I think most of people at some point created their personal idea on this topic

In my opinion Murdock is a little bit older than Face, now I'll explain why :P

At some point during the show they said that Face was born on 7 december 1950 (if I'm not mistaking lol) and in several episodes they reiterated that they knew each other and were already active as the A-team in the late 60s... which means that he enlisted at least in 1968 (considering the 8/11 weeks of recruit training plus the period before he met the team)

Anyway I think this age suits him very well so I simply go with it :D

Now it comes the difficult part: Captain H.M. Murdock

I haven't found even the most little clue indicating his age, so I went by traces: if I remind correctly he surely worked 2 times for CIA and the first of them was in 1967 (if I'm wrong please forgive me, I'm going by memory :P)

Now, I don't know how this things works but I don't think that the agency would simply took rookies (for how skilled they could be) on their first month... I mean, I assume they searched for someone who had some experience that went beyond the 'school flighting hours' for being sure that the task they'd do would be completed successfully... which in my head means that Murdock would be already flying from some time in 1967

I started reading an autobiography written by a Vietnam War heli-pilot and he said that becoming a helicopter pilot during mid 60s took about 9 months - Murdock though can also pilot planes and military jets (as showed in a episode of season 5) which would have taken similar time, maybe a little less, even if always thereabout 7/8 months

But when he learned to pilot them? In my headcanon this all happened before the heli-course, cause if after, where he would have found the time to go back in the u.s. between flying troupes and spending some time with the team?

Even considering his ultraterrain skills in learning everything there would have been a least 1 year and some months of training to get both his plane and helicopter licenses, so he would have to start from the first thing in late '65 or at the beginning of '66

I think he would have started the plane training when he turned 18... so to me his age go well as Dwight's one, cause having him born in 1947 would leave him the time to do all this stuff before meeting the team

This would make Murdock (born in 1947) about 3 years older than Face (born in late 1950) and I think it's a dynamic that suits them pretty well

Please, I'd truthly love to know other opinions on this mysterious topic! :D

[worldclassbadass]

So. Vinland saga s2 ost came out yesterday. And right at the very start of the album, I can already tell that this album really came for my tearducts

[masterofrecords]

Me: Well, now that I'm finally done with episode 6 of The Ravages of Time, things should go faster on the next one.

Episode 7: Contains poetry, Records of the Grand Historian, references to the Bible and Buddhist organizations.

Me: ...ah.

[nalayaktha]

Her

I fear the hand

The hand that feeds me

The hand that hurts me

The hand that can't comfort me

The hand that could never love me

I fear her body

Her body that feels unwelcome

Her body that feels unknown

Her body adorned in gold

Her body that when pressed against mine

Feels like she's gonna commit a crime

I fear my body

My body that feels unknown

My body that feels like her

My body that cant hum my own melody

My body that is tainted by her memory

I fear affection

Affection I don't think I deserve

Affection that I can't preserve

Affection thats not perverse

Affection that she never gave me

I fear love

Love I could never give you

Love I never got from her

Love I didn't give her

Love I can't give cause I don't have any

[pikwikpack]

Pikwik Pals Season 2 Episode 2 “The Letter”

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[shebsart]

i need to make sure, do the majority of hmc book fans know he was quoting another john donne poem here? its called The Sun Rising!

“Busy old fool, unruly Sophie,” said Howl. “Am I right in thinking that you turned my doorknob black-side-down and stuck your long nose out through it?” “Just my finger,” Sophie said with dignity.

[wingedcatgirl]

I've been sitting on this almost-complete chapter of leaf story for too damn long, i have got to finish up the soundtrack and whatever other minor stuff so i can post it already

[moonmaidensblessing]

Demeter by H.D.

I

Men, fires, feasts, steps of temple, fore-stone, lintel, step of white altar, fire and after-fire, slaughter before, fragment of burnt meat, deep mystery, grapple of mind to reach the tense thought, power and wealth, purpose and prayer alike, (men, fires, feasts, temple steps)—useless.

Useless to me who plant wide feet on a mighty plinth, useless to me who sit, wide of shoulder, great of thigh, heavy in gold, to press gold back against solid back of the marble seat: useless the dragons wrought on the arms, useless the poppy-buds and the gold inset of the spray of wheat.

Ah they have wrought me heavy and great of limb— she is slender of waist, slight of breast, made of many fashions; they have set her small feet on many a plinth; she they have known, she they have spoken with, she they have smiled upon, she they have caught and flattered with praise and gifts.

But useless the flattery of the mighty power they have granted me: for I will not stay in her breast the great of limb, though perfect the shell they have fashioned me, these men!

Do I sit in the market place— do I smile, does a noble brow bend like the brow of Zeus— am I a spouse, his or any, am I a woman, or goddess or queen, to be met by a god with a smile—and left?

Full poem here.

[tiktaaliker]

shout out to my senior year in highschool when I read t s eliot's love song for j alfred prufrock for the first time and almost got in a full blown argument with my english teacher over the meaning of a single line

[haveihitanerve]

Give a little bite, a little nibble have a little fight, a little squibble Draw some blood tonight or just tell Batman a little fib-ble first we gotta give a little bite a little nibble

Okay so wait you guys all know that thing that teachers or parents do were they forget that they don't have to speak in like a baby voice all the time and accidentally interact with grown adults in the same manner they do with a child right? Okay so imagine that- but with Batman and the Justice League

Like-

Hal and Barry are arguing and suddenly Batman goes, “boys, thats not very nice is it?” in like a kid voice

Or Oliver is complaining about getting patched up after a fight and Batman chides, “You take the hit you gotta take the stitch baby,” 

Or Clark is mumbling something and Bats goes, “Speak up sweetheart, lets use our speech properly yeah?”

Or Diana accidentally punches a man in the face when hes already down. Batman tsks, “Come on darling, what did we talk about? One hit only.”

Or Oliver is leaving for a mission and Dinah kisses him goodbye and then he walks away, only for Batman to go, “Say bye bye!” 

AGDJFDYSGUKSRHGBDF

Just please imagine their faces for me.

And Batman grimaces lightly afterwards every time and just leaves and the League is flabbergasted

[passedyoubyy]

reading a short story that feels so distinctly queer but knowing that I can't discuss that in our class discussion bc ppl r very homophobic!

[astronicht]

Okay I'm almost done with Fellowship, here's an incomplete list of shit I noticed and thought was buck fucking wild on my first ever read-thru: medieval edition.

In literally the second line of the book, Tolkien implies that Bilbo Baggins wrote a story which was preserved alongside the in-universe version of the Mabinogion (aka the best-known collection of Welsh myths; I promise this is batshit). This is because The Hobbit has been preserved, in Tolkien's AU version of our world, in a "selection of the Red Book of Westmarch" (Prologue, Concerning Hobbits). If you're a medievalist and you see something called "The Red Book of" or "The Black Book of" etc it's a Thing. In this case, a cheeky reference to the Red Book of Hergest (Llyfr Coch Hergest). There are a few Red Books, but only Hergest has stories).

not a medieval thing but i did not expect one common theory among hobbits for the death of Frodo's parents to be A RUMORED MURDER-SUICIDE.

At the beginning of the book a few hobbits report seeing a moving elm tree up on the moors, heading west (thru or past the Shire). I mentioned this in another post, but another rule: if you see an elm tree, that's a Girl Tree. In Norse creation myth, the first people were carved from driftwood by the gods. Their names were Askr (Ash, as in the tree), the first man, and Embla (debated, but likely elm tree), the first woman. A lot of ppl have I think guessed that that was an ent-wife, but like. Literally that was a GIRL. TREE.

Medieval thing: I used to read the runes on the covers of The Hobbit and LOTR for fun when I worked in a bookshop. There's a mix of Old Norse (viking) and Old English runes in use, but all the ones I've noticed so far are real and readable if you know runes.

Tom Bombadil makes perfect sense if you once spent months of your life researching the early medieval art of galdor, which was the use of poems or songs to do a form of word-magic, often incorporating gibberish. If you think maybe Tolkien did not base the entirety of Fellowship so far around learning and using galdor and thus the power of words and stories, that is fine I cannot force you. He did personally translate "galdor" in Beowulf as "spell" (spell, amusingly, used to mean "story"). And also he named an elf Galdor. Like he very much did name an elf Galdor.

Tom Bombadil in fact does galdor from the moment we meet him. He arrives and fights the evil galdor (song) of the willow tree ("old gray willow-man, he's a mighty singer"), which is singing the hobbits to sleep and possibly eating them, with a galdor (song) of his own. Then he wanders off still singing, incorporating gibberish. I think it was at this point that I started clawing my face.

THEN Tom Bombadil makes perfect sense if you've read the description of the scop's songs in Beowulf (Beowulf again, but hey, Tolkien did famously a. translate it b. write a fanfiction about it called Sellic Spell where he gave Beowulf an arguably homoerotic Best Friend). The scop (pronounched shop) is a poet who sings about deeds on earth, but also by profession must know how to sing the song or tell the story of how the cosmos itself came to be. The wise-singer who knows the deep lore of the early universe is a standard trope in Old English literature, not just Beowulf! Anyway Tom Bombadil takes everyone home and tells them THE ENTIRE STORY OF ALL THE AGES OF THE EARTH BACKWARDS UNTIL JUST BEFORE THE MOMENT OF CREATION, THE BIG BANG ITSELF and then Frodo Baggins falls asleep.

Tom Bombadil knows about plate tectonics

This is sort of a lie, Tom Bombadil describes the oceans of old being in a different place, which works as a standard visual of Old English creation, which being Christian followed vaguely Genesis lines, and vaguely Christian Genesis involves a lot of water. TOLKIEN knew about plate tectonics though.

Actually I just checked whether Tolkien knew about plate tectonics because I know the advent of plate tectonics theory took forever bc people HATED it and Alfred Wegener suffered for like 50 years. So! actually while Tolkien was writing LOTR, the scientific community was literally still not sure plate tectonics existed. Tom Bombadil knew tho.

Remember that next time you (a geologist) are forced to look at the Middle Earth map.

I'm not even done with Tom Bombadil but I'm stopping here tonight. Plate tectonics got me. There's a great early (but almost high!) medieval treatise on cosmology and also volcanoes and i wonder if tolkien read it. oh my god. i'm going to bed.

edit: part II