#sow don't sing

[varyupon]

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Two soldiers bond over their experience with domestic abuse and vow to die together.

PVT Luca Russo and SSG Cohen Bentley discuss why the new recruit has been failing BCT and they develop a heartfelt father-son relationship -- as well as a double-suicide pact.

So as mentioned a few years back as well as my recent attempts to start posting again on this account right as I was starting university with the termination of the development of the SPN fan film linked here, I mentioned then and recently that my focus in art has been geared more towards original art as I start to take art and animated film more seriously.

The result of this change in focus has led up to the creation of "PROJECT-SDS," which is a feature film titled "SOW DON'T SING." And original work near and dear to my heart about

A young 18-year-old boy named Luca Russo who joins the US army to escape his abusive family. Through a twist of events, Luca ends up as a member of the mafia moonlighting as a serial killer with a fairytale namesake.

The video provided above is the teaser trailer for the proof of concept short film, "SOW DON'T SING - This Old Winner," which adapts nearly 12 minutes of the feature film around the "protagonist meets the mentor" part of every hero's journey. Though, Luca's mentor Sergeant Cohen Bentley may not be all that he seems.

This 12 minute short film serves as my graduation project from university and the reason why I've been absent from fandom at large and posting in general. As we speak, the short is currently entering its film festival circulation.

It would mean everything to me to earn your continued support through my journey as an artist with new original projects such as this as I continue to advance my career as a filmmaker. I will continue to shape this account and space accordingly, as well as post more about "SOW DON'T SING" from now on.

Thank you, and I hope you'll enjoy the show my team and I are working hard at.

[birb--birb]

If evil then why hot?????

[lil-gingerbread-queen]

This evening's mood: pissed at French people who doesn't like La Marseillaise

[st4rtar0t]

Some channeled songs for you from a loved one

Pick a picture

MASTERLIST ☆ PAID SERVICES

These pictures do not belong to me, they belong to their rightful owners. I only own the content of this post.

Picture 1

You are the innocent kid of the Pious God,

The dearest to his royalty…

Innocent kid of the Pious God,

You are his beloved child,

The worries that God has given,

He only will take them away.

The Girl has become like the Peepal (tree),

Everyone worships you,

But no one ever sows your seeds,

And no one can arrest you at home…

Treading the roads fearlessly,

She is akin to rain water,

When she comes near the real world,

She becomes a little dirty.

If you be the cash

I'll be the rubber band

You be the match

I will be a fuse, boom

Painter, baby, you could be the muse

I'm the reporter, baby, you could be the news

'Cause you're the cigarette and I'm the smoker

We raise a bet 'cause you're the joker

Checked off, you are the chalk

And I can be the blackboard

You can be the talk

And I can be the walk, yeah

Even when the sky comes falling

Even when the sun don't shine

I got faith in you and I

So put your pretty little hand in mine

Even when we're down to the wire, babe

Even when it's do or die

We could do it, baby, simple and plain

'Cause this love is a sure thing

Picture 2

My eyes choose only you, my eyes only listen to my heart.

He forgets the whole world and gets lost in thoughts of you.

I don’t see any difference between you and God.

I have fallen madly in love with you…

I have fallen completely madly in love with you…

When I see a shooting star I will pray for you.

I pray that when our bond is joined, it will never break.

I didn’t realize when night turned into morning.

Ever since you’ve been mine I’ve stopped noticing time.

I want to call you mine, I want to be with you.

I keep looking for an excuse to see you.

I have fallen madly in love with you…

I have fallen completely madly in love with you…

I don’t see any difference between you and God.

You're so hypnotizing

Could you be the devil?

Could you be an angel?

Your touch, magnetizing

Feels like I am floating

Leaves my body glowing

They say, be afraid

You're not like the others

Futuristic lover

Different DNA

They don't understand you

You're from a whole 'nother world

A different dimension

You open my eyes

And I'm ready to go

Lead me into the light

Picture 3

I will live by your name

I will die by your name

To be with you I can do anything for you

What you have done to me; The ego in me has died; been erased;

Yes, I have become

Yours, I have become mad for you

When the wildness of love crosses all the limits

The lovers hang themselves with smile

The magic of love overpowers the mind and proclaims

You may guard (the paths) but the lord will create a way

This is the will of love

This is the will of God

Without you, How can I live ?

Yes I know, this is the selfishness

I became crazy and play in all colors

I am innocent, mad and wild

I sing, I dance, I make everyone happy

Now I do not follow any religion or rules of society

Because I am mad and crazy in love

And if I may just take your breath away

I don't mind if there's not much to say

Sometimes the silence guides a mind

To move to a place so far away

The goosebumps start to raise

The minute that my left hand meets your waist

And then I watch your face

Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah

These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for

Inside this place is warm

Outside it starts to pour.

[undiscovered-horizon]

(tw for mentions of nudity)

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[After days of travelling, fighting and sleeping on rocks, a rest at a tavern is well-earned. Not feeling up to taste the nightlife with your friends, Gale and you retire early. The evening turns into something heartfelt and domestic as you wash his hair and hum a song he's grown all too familiar with.]

As much as Gale loves to be in the centre of your attention, it flusters him. He's grown so used to being the one doting and worshipping that he's quite unsure what to do once the roles are reversed. Is he supposed to gratefully acknowledge your efforts? Or sit twiddling his thumbs, taking whatever you give him?

How does one take affection?, he wonders in the back of his head.

The party downstairs is virtually inaudible to Gale as his mind is focused solely on the tender caress of your hands. The soap suds feel as though they transcend his skin and wash his very spirit clean. Or perhaps that's just what being loved feels like. His back is leisurely leaning against your chest. In some distant fantasy of his, you are reborn as his guardian angel.

I sowed rue in four little gardens In the fifth, I sowed periwinkle for you, Johnny

Your low singing is ringing in his ears the same way the church bell's toll is ringing in the ears of a saint - calling towards home. Gale shivers as your breath, like a ghost of love once cherished, brushes against his hot skin. The soothing sound of your voice is all too fleeting to him. If he could only grab it and bask in it any time he wishes to. Perhaps, if your place was among the stars in the night sky...?

Rue, my rue, I sowed you in the early morning I sowed you happily; grow tall, rue

He sighs, feeling your fingers tug gently at his hair. Whether you're washing it or rinsing, he's not entirely sure. The moment your fingers dragged against his skin, your nails scratched at his scalp, Gale allowed himself to drift into a comfortable limbo - somewhere between sleep and wake, between dream and reality. It is only by the melody of this song you so often sing to yourself that he can be sure he is alive and well. Otherwise, given the inexplicable lightness of his spirit, Gale might have thought he'd died and gone to wherever he deserved to spend his afterlife.

I sowed you, rue, in a wide bed I thought to myself that Johnny might come

Speaking of death: as the saying goes, 'curiosity killed the cat' and Gale, by his nature, can not help himself but die again and again.

"Not that I don't enjoy your little habit," he breaks the silence in a groggy, sleepy voice, "it's quite adorable if I may say so, but do indulge me: what is this song you're singing? I've never heard it before."

"It's a wedding song," you murmur your answer. Gale's breath hitches as he feels your lips stroke the conch of his ear. "In my hometown, there's this tradition of making newlyweds wade through the dancing guests to reach each other. If they manage to hold hands before the song ends, the Gods bless them and they shall be inseparable from that day on. It's weird how..." you hang your voice and sigh heavily, "no matter."

But Gale is quick to dismiss your silly belief that there is something uninteresting about your thoughts. "Whatever is on your mind, I long to hear it." The pleasing tone of his voice is more meaningful than the wizard's actual words.

For a moment, your careful movements come to a halt. He could, of course, protest the sudden lack of soft tugging at his hair or the pleasant scratching of his scalp but all complaints dissipate as Gale feels you resting your chin on top of his shoulder. "When I was younger, just a filly, I thought about the day I would get to nudge my way through the guests," you recall with both sadness and fondness in your voice, "but now I worry whether I will get to see the break of dawn. Odd how life can get."

He wishes to say something suave, to weave sultry words with skill comparable to Astarion's. Alas, he's too overly aware of your naked form glued to his back and your arms casually wrapped around his stomach. Yet again, Gale is flustered. "Oh, I'm no stranger to twisted and, frankly unfathomable, paths of life," he says, feigning glibness. "Having said that, you've managed to survive things most can't even dream of. If I were you, I wouldn't cross a wedding game off the list just yet."

No answer comes from you - at least not a vocal answer. You place a soft peck on top of his shoulder before going back to washing his hair and relishing in the song that reminds you of home.

The rue is withered but Johnny's not here When Sunday comes, I will be dressing up

Considering he has enough explosive energy inside him to level a city, wading through the mob of wedding guests shouldn't be a challenge. Although, if Karlach and Lae'zel are also invited...

But the doubt in Gale's mind doesn't let such fantasies go too far. First of all, would you even want to? Would you actually stand before him and proclaim to the entire world that you will love him for better or worse? As much as he believes you every time you profess your love to him, the longer he wonders about the proverbial 'until death do us part', the more he grows unsure. Because, honestly, out of all the people you've met on your travels, why would it be him? The man who famously makes bad decisions in the name of love?

Rue, my rue, grow green, rue I will cut you on an early Sunday morning

The thing that happens then leaves Gale even more confused about his own feelings and the matter of accepting affection:

You've finished washing his hair, taking your sweet time admiring the streaks of grey. Leaning back, you gently pull him along. His head falls back into the crook of your neck. If Gale had just slightly less self-control, he would have squealed when you kissed his neck and tightened your embrace around his midsection. You're holding him like a toddler holds their favourite stuffed toy and it's... nice.

Thinking about your trapping hug, Gale suddenly remembers something he wanted to share. "Did you know that a periwinkle is also called a Vinca, which means 'to bind'?"

A light-hearted chuckle rumbles in your chest. "Then I better sow a garden full of them for you."

_____

Halsin's version right here!!

(tagging those who shouted, y'all are the pillars of society: @cakenpiewhyohmy @hairlessgoblin @lillithhearts @day-dreaming-goddess @nico-ith @cakeboxie )

Your prayers have been heard!!!! (As though I didn't start writing this immediately after posting Halsin's version)

Changed the song at the last second because my former choice was a little too upbeat for the setting ("Jeleń" by Sutari, if y'all are curious)

[foreficfandom]

POV: You Are Actually MUCH More Powerful Than Alastor (1/2)

(Alastor x Reader, g/n, queerplatonic/sex and romance favorable, fan theories, God!Reader)

Overlords are common sinners that boast many indentured servants to their name. Some also focus on physical territory. Some, like Alastor, don't bother. After all, radio knows little physical limitations.

Every Overlord had their own method of gaining prowess. Know one knows how Alastor became so dangerous. The strongest of the lords. Possibly stronger than some goetia royalty.

You weren't sure, either, but you had an inkling.

Because unbeknownst to anyone, you weren't some common sinner soul.

You were unique. A being originating far from this Christian realm of Heaven and Hell. You were undying, or a reincarnation, or a demigod. But you kept on the down low, 'cause attention would have meant trouble.

You could feel that Alastor's magic was a dark, bloody thing, nestled deep in his chest and hooked tightly like barbed wire. It tasted like sacrifices. It smelled like ultraviolet. And you knew it was borrowed, almost seeing the leash around his neck out of the corner of your eye.

Through a shared interest in the Hazbin Hotel, you and Alastor became acquaintances. Months later, you were proper friends. You could tell that Alastor valued the kind and pure of heart, even if he also believed them pitiful. Because they reminded him of a pleasant, happier life. A hidden part of him wanted to believe in their hope and love.

He thought you were just another sinner soul, and you didn't give him a reason to know any better. You had a job as part of the hotel staff. Their accountant, or security, or maintenance. Or their head concierge, guest service agent, auditor, what have you. Something vital to the business, but nothing glamorous. Labor has always been your most successful mask.

He was growing to love again. His mortal self might have been more recipient of affections and bonds, but decades living in hell has twisted him, and you could see him despair over the lump in his throat. His defeat at the hands of Adam proved his limits. You felt him writhe for weeks afterwards, and you let him reap what he sowed.

Curious, you sneaked away one evening and drew from your well of power to step through the fabric of time, finding yourself on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain to watch a young Alastor drink the blood from a bloody corpse, and spitting it over his shoulder. Some loa watched this bastardized libation from across the crossroads, but what answered was far more malevolent.

Alastor agreed to a very dangerous exchange. He now had hold over magic impressive enough for a mortal, but you knew it to be a relatively bum deal compared to true power. He would hunger constantly for flesh just to feed its energy, which was a cleverly hidden clause to curse him further through devilish consumption. His shadow sprouted antlers and a maw of sharp teeth.

For two decades, Alastor hunted and ate. Always male victims, usually white men, individuals some might damn as monsters themselves - the abusers, the genociders, the murderously entitled. What was once a scared young man grew hollow and fat on the power.

You've seen enough. Stepping through once more, you joined Alastor in cooking an orzo for shrove Tuesday. Sharpening your gaze, you watched his reflection on the shiny metal surface of a pot, and saw the stitches embedded in his face, pulling tight and vicious.

You nonchalantly asked, "How did you become so proficient at the kitchen knife?"

"Well, I was taught that one could eat, or they could eat well," he replied in a sing-song voice. "And practice makes perfect! Hunger is truly the best teacher."

The meat he was pairing was pork, but you knew he's served human flesh for dinner at least once before. You didn't say anything, because they'd grow suspicious at how you could possibly know from just the smell.

Alastor allowed only you to join him in cooking, partly because he favored you so much more, also because you were a right hand at making a meal. You didn't mention that millennia of existence made one a right hand at any skill.

And tonight, he would begin to see it.

Leaving the broth to simmer, you grabbed a small pairing knife and one of the tomatoes. Instead of simply coring and slicing, you inserted 0.013'' of carbon, chromium, and manganese right between where the molecular cells of epidermis ended at the pericarp. In a single momentum of both your knife and the tomato, the skin was perfectly peeled within two rotations.

Alastor wasn't even looking at you. But he froze over the cutting board, rictus smile sharp.

You haven't even used magic yet.

Both the tomato epidermis and its flayed flesh were completely free of any trace of the other, so in one hand, you ignited the skin to transmogrify into a tiny figurine made out of its glycerin wax. In the other, the tomato was sacrificed in a hole of light-bending void for its animal equivalent - the tiny heart of some small animal, possibly a bird or an amphibian, beating calmly as if alive.

Alastor slowly turned his head to watch as a miniature wax replica of himself held the heart in both shaking hands, before doubling over to devour it whole, its relative size and gore very reminiscent of a large, juicy tomato.

A picture perfect snapshot of his fifth or sixth murder while alive. Some world war veteran that still longed for the battlefield and had exercised his frustration upon his mother and younger siblings. The man might have been rotten, but his warrior's blood had burned hot and nourished Alastor's gaping void particularly well.

(NEXT)

[lovesickeros]

☆ you sow; & thus you shall reap what you are owed

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, violence {☆} word count 0.8k

You are dying.

Gold melts into the dirt, bleeds into the very earth that you'd molded by your own hands – a familiarity you do not understand the source of – you know it to be true, yet you do not remember it as Teyvat does. It weeps, in turn, for the way you bleed upon it, the way your lungs strain for breath.

It is fury and sorrow and fear and hatred so raw that your mind buckles.

You will die.

"A dying godling and its judge, it's jury – it's executioners," The voice is hollow and cold, sweeps across your broken body like the first chill of winter, "Archons who saw themselves Gods, now brought to heel by their own hubris."

A cold hand upon your cheek, the brush of a thumb across your lip, the gentle caress of cold across your skin. You know her – you don't remember, you shouldn't recognize her but you do – and she knows you. The cold beckons and you follow, let her kindness settle in the hollow space of your chest. You want to speak, to cry and scream and rage, let the world burn around you in a fit of flames so hot even she cannot contain it – but she silences you, quiets the anger seeping into your blood, quiets Teyvat itself.

"Do not speak, little godling. Guide my hand," She is cold; her hands are not gentle, yet it is bliss compared to the callous, cruel hands that have shattered you. She is cruel and cold and brutal but she is love in the way she kisses the crown of your head. She is love in the way she is the bulwark between you and the world that has scorned you – she is fury in the way she brings them to their knees. "And I shall enact judgement most divine."

They will pray for forgiveness, and they shall find themselves wanting.

"It wasn't our fault!" They cry, but you cannot recognize the voice – it breaks and cracks like glass. "They were too human. How were we meant to know? We– we thought they were.."

Silence.

You watch your judge – the executioner, the blade that shall carve their sins into the very marrow of Teyvat, stand above you like death. As cold as winter and just as brutal. Your temple has been painted in the gold of your divine blood, and she shall complete the masterpiece with their own. The Archons shall become the grandest art in the world – this temple the canvas, their blood the paint and their bodies the palette. The cold that cuts sinew cradles you – it sings to you, whispers sweetly in your ear and carves bone from body in the same breath. The cold presses it's lips to your wrist and it cradles a heart within it's palm – judges them and finds them guilty.

It is her spear that rests between their ribs, her sword that dissects and her dagger that carves – the cold devours.

In the breadth of this divine sanctuary, the Archons dwindle. They become the pieces of a divine work of art, they bleed and bend and break upon her hands. She shakes the heavens and carves mortality into the bones of the divine – your word is Law, and you weave their deaths into the roots of Teyvat itself.

They shall know of their grand folly in every moment henceforth and longer still and they shall weep.

And as the curtain falls, as the world crumbles beneath fist and blade, she cradles your face between hands too cold – as gentle as a shard of ice between your ribs, as brutal as the kiss of gentle snowfall. The world buckles at the loss of six, but she alone does not allow it to break – you will have to mend the wounds of the world when you are well, but today you weep and Teyvat weeps with you.

And alone, the cold remains.

Stone has eroded, the wind has ceased, the flames have been extinguished, the storm has been silenced, the forests have gone quiet and the seas go still.

But the cold remains, bathed in gold.

It wraps you in thick furs, cradles you against the winter storm that brews beneath a veneer of composure. It brings you home – lets the world settle into a stillness and silence that inspires only dread and still she presses a kiss to your brow.

It is cold, but there has never been something so warm.

Where hands have broken you, she drapes you in furs, wipes away the thick gold that clings to your skin. She pieces you back together where you have been shattered, reshapes you where you have been bent – makes of you something new. Not a god and not a mortal but something wedged between them.

But you are yourself.

And you are where you belong.

They shall put you back together and you shall know only the worship worthy of the divine. They shall carve this world into your image, tear out and burn away the rot that festers.

All you need to do is say the word and they shall be your tools to make this world your own.

One word and those who wronged you shall burn, too.

Just one word. That's all it takes, and they shall take away your pain.

[s-telar]

ᴖ᷄ ⍸ ᴖ᷅ 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝖼𝖾⠀⠀𖹭⠀⠀'⠀⠀s⠀⠀ゾーン

you are my first チョイス and my

ファースト thought

୨ ׅ ׄ ⟡ 🎻 트와이스

the wind of grace have

brought and sowed love

트와이스 𖹭 you don't know, but

i just wanted to be your 𝗽𝗼𝗲𝘁𝗿𝘆.

二回 ⁹ ㅤ ( 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝖼𝖾 )ㅤㅤㅤ─ㅤㅤ & ㅤㅤ𝗅ō𝗏𝖾.

let’s meet, two birds at one stone

I love to hear you sing

소녀의 힘 ♡ 🦢 : 트와이스 ꒱

she’s like porcelain — pearlescent

gorgeously soft to the touch, 아홉.

[writers-potion]

When to Use "S" Sounds

for secretive scenes and undercover action

for ghost stories

for characters who don't wish to be overheard

"S" sound words for secretive effect:

discreet, suspicious, confession, ,mystery, secret, silent, noiseless, whisper, hiss, lisp

"S" sound words for spooky mood:

ghost, specte, presence, spirit, spook

Other thematically unrelated words:

spin, supper, sin, spine, sound, sing, sow, sad, send, haste, waste, jest, chest, clasp, rasp, wasp, stain, stun, start, staff, stuff, sting, star stare, stilt, still, silt, stoop, sinister, glisten, sister, sibling

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[perictione00]

Selfish

Ch 1: Surprise!!!

Pairing: Geto Suguru x reader

Warnings: a bit dark and graphic..?

Synopsis: You left the Jujutsu World behind the moment the source of your warmth turned cold. So what happens when you come face to face with that one episode in your life that you wanted to obliterate? Simple, you reap what you sow.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Malaysia, 2014

It was a tiring day, your period wasn't helping either. You were just itching to get home, take a shower, and order from that new Mexican place your boyfriend had been talking about. It was a Friday, so you were getting excited about the weekend. For some reason, you were feeling so grateful, maybe because your life was finally normal and you were happy. It was all okay until you encountered a young boy in a wheelchair, with a curse engulfing his lower body. A world that you wanted to escape so desperately, somehow never failed to present itself in a situation that made you question your morality. But after everything you had seen, you were way past morality, so you ignored the boy like you did with every other person who needed you.

"Jayden", you called out for your boyfriend as you opened the door to your shared apartment. You assumed, that he wasn't home yet as nobody answered but the familiar cursed energy you sensed said otherwise. You felt dreaded as it wasn't possible, you had dodged every single mistake that could have given away your whereabouts.

"Please no", you prayed as you walked further into the apartment. You froze, as you entered your bedroom. The bed was soaked in blood as the lifeless body of your boyfriend was being violated by a curse. "No, no, no, no, no", tears spilled out of your eyes as you started screaming in denial. It quickly turned into anger as a certain raven-haired man standing in the corner declared his presence, "Surprise!!!". You attacked him with a punch straight to his face and he didn't budge, he didn't dodge the many punches you threw his way while crying your heart out. He did stop you, chuckling, "Aww, don't cry..did you actually love this one? C'mon now, you know you're not capable of that". He started cradling you in a hug, "Now let's get back to business.., remember the traitor who left me?.. yeah, yeah, the one I trusted the most, remember that person?", his hand slid down your hair slowly as he continued, "oh wait, you look a lot like that person..the one who abandoned me".

2005

On New Year's Eve, you told your mum about some weird dreams you were having for the past few days, and of course, being a typical mother, she blamed it on your choices of television series. But you knew it wasn't because of the few Supernatural episodes that you had seen in the span of two months.

From the beginning of time, you were used to seeing terrifying figures randomly, which were avoided at all costs as you were scared of what might turn out if they knew of your existence. However, your parents thought otherwise, resulting in child therapy, which wasn't working yet you pretended it did. You adapted to your surroundings being full of creepy creatures, ignoring them, and trying to live like a normal teenager. That was until the onset of some weird dreams and a malevolent presence under your bed. It was weird, as none of them ever came in close proximity to you. Hence, you started sleeping with your parents again. The nightmares didn't stop; in spite of that, you felt good, safe, and loved, no longer scared.

The peacefulness vanished on the first day of 2006, when you were alone in the house and someone was singing a broken melody. You were petrified as you saw a woman playing a violin emerging from a newborn's skull, singing while rocking to the rhythm in the drawing room, suddenly stopping, turning, and smiling unnaturally at you.

"You would make a beautiful cello."

You bolted as it proceeded to move crookedly in your direction. It was guffawing so loudly that you had to cover your ears. Locking yourself in the bathroom, you called your parents, whispering to them about how much you loved them, until you heard a frightening tune on a piano. The call was disconnected, and the door started melting while you tried to escape from the window you couldn't reach. The room started turning white, and you saw your reflection in the mirror, smiling at you. Your vision blurred as you fell into a slumber.

Waking up, your eyes adjusted to the brightness of a white room. You felt agitated at first, but slowly observing, you saw your parents sitting sadly on a white couch. Thank fuck, it was a hospital room. Their happiness and relief after your recovery from an unexplainable incident couldn't be measured. You were spoiled rotten with love as you woke up after a week of unconsciousness. In the evening of the same day, a bulky man in all black approached your family, discussing something before finally coming to you. He introduced himself as Masamichi Yaga and unfolded the world of Jujutsu sorcerers to you. Though your parents were sure he was a cult member, you felt ecstatic; you weren't crazy after all. With that came many days of convincing, resulting in your parents ultimately agreeing to admit you to Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College after checking its legitimacy a thousand more times. They were not ready to let you go, but they came around as you kept insisting with evidence.

On the way to the campus, the tough-looking man turned out to be a total softie who was explaining to you about your unknown technique and appreciating you for exorcising a grade 2 curse without any training. You were dumbfounded, but you were a sucker for praise, so you didn't question him.

After reaching the campus, you were introduced to your classmates, an almost gloomy Kento Nanami, and a total cutie, Yu Haibara. They were great, especially Haibara, who was currently showing you around the campus. After getting a hot drink, you both settled down on a seat. You weren't expecting to get along with anyone on the very first day, but Haibara's just so sweet that anyone can feel comfortable. He showed you your assigned room, and you guys called it a night.

However, later at night, your slumber was disrupted by a growling stomach at 3 in the morning. It was odd timing for a takeout, but you still gave it a shot, ordering a Zaru Soba with cola. You were surprised at how advanced the Tokyo delivery system was, as you got your delivery within 10 minutes. It tasted better than your expectations, and with that, you started brainstorming ideas to decorate your room, which was interrupted by a knock on the door. You ignored it the first time out of caution, but you opened it on the third knock. To your surprise, a literal god stood in front of you, and you didn't know how to react. "Hey..?", you broke the ice with an awkward greeting.

"I think the delivery guy confused our orders because we ordered the same thing, so I'm assuming this is yours", the Greek god said as he offered you your cola.

"Oh yeah, thanks..um..yeah", you were doing a great job continuing the conversation with your five syllables. Before you could close the door and save your ass from embarrassment, the guy asked for your name, and you told him. Shit, now you felt obligated to ask his name, and so you did. "And you are?"

"Geto Suguru"

Ch 2

[sleepyorchidmonster]

Can you imagine if Celestia decides to mind control the archons, realizing that a revolution is probably coming?

The main goal is to sow chaos and distrust in Teyvat, stopping the Tsaritsa's plans while showing Celestia's might.

What they didn't expect was for said archons to fight back, most with contingencies made centuries ago.

Venti isolated himself in a wind barrier, making sure nobody could enter, and that his powers couldn't break out. He is NOT having panic attacks due to claustrophobia and memories of Decarabian's rule, thank you very much.

Zhongli sealed himself deep undergound, in a similar fashion to Azdaha, he brought plenty of books to pass the time, though he is mostly suffering from a migraine due to fighting off Celestia.

Ei is literally just chilling in the Plane of Euthymia while the Shogun runs Inazuma. Makoto's subconsiousness is fistfighting Celestia's influence.

To make sure nobody could use her control over Irminsul and the people's dreams and minds, Nahida locked herself up in the Sanctuary of Surasthana again, sealing her conciousness. It worked, but she's afraid and alone and crying while reliving her worst nightmare. Scaramouche and Cyno are trying to break the barrier in frantic desperation.

We don't know much about Murata, but she's probably just chilling in a volcano. Meanwhile the Tsaritsa froze herself, letting Pierro run the country and the Fatui in her stead.

Meanwhile Furina is hiding in the dephts of Fontaine's sea, sealing herself in a cave with the use of Pneuma and Ousia energies (if she tries to break the barrier, or attempts to control Fontaine's waters, the barrier strikes, she went a bit overboard because tsunamis are no joke).

So yeah, the plan didn't go as expected, and Celestia also didn't account for the Traveler... or the dragons...

The Traveler is basically going around saving everyone, using his connection to the elements to break barriers and fight off Celestia's influence. We start with Sumeru, mostly because Scara all but drags us to save Nahida.

As for the Sovereings...

Dvalin is guarding Venti's temporary "prison", trying to sing as many ballads as he can remember in hopes to calm him down. He sometimes sings the notes wrong because it always made Venti laugh.

Azdaha's conciousness found Zhongli's seal. He connected both of the places so that they can keep each other company. They're alternating between chess matches with soothing tea and Oshmantus wine to friendly spars that shake Liyue (Zhongli is still a feral war god that likes to fight).

Ei is having a great time in the Plane of Euthymia, especially now that Kokomi came along. They're chatting about light novels.

Apep managed to connect to Nahida's conciousness and is currently strangling the Celestial influence. She claims it's just her way of settling the score after we helped her in 3.6, as well as a good excuse to fight Celestia. The fact that she is telling stories of the old days of Teyvat to calm Nahida down is just a mere coincidence. (The maternal instincts kicked in)

Neuvillette broke though the Pneuma Ousia barrier with a small army of Melusines. He is currently guarding the archon in his dragon form while the Melusines perform plays to distract her (they want to start a troupe, so these are all original scripts, they were all approved).

We don't know much about the other two dragons, so let's just say they're guarding the borders of Natlan and Snezhnaya.

CONGRATULATIONS CELESTIA! Not only did your plan fail, but now all of Teyvat is mad at you!! Even the Sovereigns (that are supposed to resent the archons, mind you) are angry on their behalf!!!!🥳🥳🥳

Bonus: Neuvillette watching the show of the melusines while Furina sleeps next to his paws:

[spooky-pop]

Hey found your blog and your punk rock broppy au. Got to say love what I see so far and what to know more about it like. What movie does this au take place?

When rock branch and poppy meet again after all these years apart what was their impression on each other?

Was it love at first sight ? If not who fell for who first?

Is creek in this au and did poppy have a crush on him like in the canon? What’s branch thoughts about his siblings? Is branch fully loyal to the rock tribe including twt barb plan?

Does branch get jelly of creek or hickory when their around poppy like he did in canon? That’s all I got for now.

Thank you so much!! I also really appreciate the questions and am so excited to answer them since I've been working more on this AU behind the scenes. There are a lot of details and plot points I just have not figured out yet, so there's a chance some things could still be changed, cut out or just tweaked a tad. I don't mind sharing more about this AU since the comics are already in progress haha

Excuse the text wall, haha!

-This takes place around the Trolls 1 timeline, then maybe a little into Trolls 2. The Bergens are still a danger and Branch still accompanies Poppy to save the Snack Pack. Instead of him finding the will to sing again in Trolls 1, he works on facing his past and traumas with Poppy to finally find his happiness.

-When Branch left pop village he was probably around the age of 9 or 10, he and Poppy definitely had some kind of a bond as children but as years passed, they both tried to focus on their own lives by trying to move on and forget about what they lost/left behind. They re-unite in their 20s, and since this AU follows RomCom tropes, they have a similar vibe to Trolls 1 Broppy. She wants to know more about him, and he is very secretive about it all and keeps his distance. There's a lot of banter between them. Very much begins like they dislike eachother but time will fix that :)

-It was not love at first sight for them, but Branch was the one who fell first, and the hardest. He tried to keep that hidden behind his tough exterior though, because he CERTAINLY didn't want to show that he had fallen for the princess of pop, exactly what he swore he wouldn't do since he was done with pop village. Loving her meant he would definitely have to revisit his past he tried running from, which scared him. But he finds comfort in Poppy that he was not provided in many years.

-Creek is in this AU (not much), and he and Poppy are good friends who do flirt a little, she does have a crush on him. Branch absolutely hates him, and of course, becomes a jealous that someone else is fond of the Princess.

-In this AU, Brozone was still a thing and they still broke up and went different ways. They just never contacted Branch again. Branch is very fueled by his anger and resentment, because essentially, they did abandon him and still never returned when he needed his family. (His brothers COULD return in the future, but at this point in my AU, their whereabouts are unknown)

-When Branch left Pop Village, he sort of became a wanderer until he happened upon the Rock tribe. Nobody really took him in, he just made himself at home and they accepted him. He purposely kept his distance from some trolls and focused on himself. Sort of living his life on autopilot. He is still a pop troll at heart, he wouldn't have felt that Barb's plan was right either. The Rock tribe does have heavy influence on him in his personality and his appearance, but inside he is still the Branch that came from Pop.

-And again, yeah! He absolutely gets jealous still, it's a big part of his character haha.

There is so much lore and other stuff I've planned and thought out, also a lot of points I excluded because I don't want to reveal them yet. But I can't wait to make some mini comics sowing som of these scenes :)

[anetherealpoetess]

cringing anytime i engage with phantom of the opera analysis because there is an obsession with casually throwing around the term 'gaslighting' when it comes to raoul's relationship with christine. gaslighting "is a form of psychological abuse or manipulation in which the abuser attempts to sow self-doubt and confusion in their victim's mind." at no point does raoul gaslight christine. he'd have to know the phantom is real first, and for the most of the story, he doesn't.

raoul does not believe an angel sent by christine's dead father is teaching her how to sing and he tells her as much. this is not gaslighting. at no point in either the book or the musical does he seek to sow self-doubt or confusion in christine's mind. in fact, her confusion is the thing that is deeply disturbing to him. he wants her sane, and healthy, and whole, and he fears grief has driven her insane to the point she has imagined herself a new father in the form of an angel of music sent to her from gustave daaé in heaven.

the fact raoul does not understand almost until it is too late the danger he and christine are facing is one of the most tragic aspects of the story. this tension is not there if you believe raoul knows the phantom exists all along and is trying to trick christine into thinking he doesn't.

nobody has to like raoul. in truth, i enjoy his niche appeal very much. it's like a cute little club. don't like him because you find him boring, a poor foil for the phantom, or a poor match for christine. that's perfectly fine and even fun! but don't make up abuse that isn't present in either the book or the theatrical production to justify your dislike. it's not necessary!

[thesonorousone]

A purpose-ful love, an intentional love, a love that heals, a therapy that you can feel, a presence no-thing can steal, a considerate love, an enlightened love, love like buddha, a different kinda love, love that enrich, It don't enslave but feel free, It don't separate but keep, It flows but still, with a lot of depth and brief. If you sow it, you'll reap, when everything gets colder, It doesn't freeze, It's summer and It's breeze.

It's winter and It's mist, If you play it, It'll sing; It's beautiful and sometimes ugly, It's pretentious and sometimes everything we've left with. So, pray that it stays, that it'll translate in belief. It's medicine. A channel, an emotion, the liberation.

[lxrd-ren]

Assigning DRDT Characters Songs

Them As A Collective

Rats Died (Faricen Deare)

Bad Girl Online (MinusP)

Brutal (Olivia Rodrigo)

Heaven Knows (The Pretty Reckless)

Hated By Life Itself (Iori Kanzaki)

Individuals

Hu

You Are A Worthless Child (Kikuo)

I'm The Rain (inabakumori)

The Moon Will Sing (The Crane Wives)

Veronika

R.I.P Gossip Sea (cosmobsp)

World's End Dancehall (wowaka)

Boredom Breakers (Undecided)

Red Flags (Tom cardy)

Psycho (Mia rodriguez)

Laplace's Angel Hurt People? Hurt People! (Will Wood and the Tapeworms)

Xander

USSEEWA (ADO)

Finders Keepers (R.I.P)

Phony (_23ki_)

EGO ROCK (Surii)

All-in (VIVINOS)

Nico

People Allergy (Kairiki Bear)

Lag Train (inabakumori)

Burning Pile (Mother Mother)

Eden

The World Hasn't Even Started Yet (Pinocchiop)

Turn Out The Lights (The Crane Wives)

Girls (girl in red)

Not The Ghost (The Crane Wives)

Whit

Becoming Potatoes (Neru)

New Colors (The Crane Wives)

The Chattering Lack Of Common Sense (GHOST)

Mama's Boy (Dominic Fike)

Min

Lost One's Weeping (Neru)

Pathological Facade (GHOST)

David

Ghost Rule (DECO*27)

Jackpot Sad Girl (syudou)

2econd 2ight 2eer (Will Wood and the Tapeworms)

Villain (Stella Jang)

People I Don't Like (UPSAHL)

Casino (Azari)

Ace

Know How (The Crane Wives)

The Wolf (The Crane Wives)

Take Me To War (The Crane Wives)

Wrecking Ball (Mother Mother)

Levi

Easier (The Crane Wives)

Safe Ship Harboured (The Crane Wives)

Beast Dance (Kurage-P)

Charles

Donut Hole (HACHI)

Arei

Sowing Seeds (The Crane Wives)

Queen Of Nothing (The Crane Wives)

Teruko

Hyakki Festival (Kanaria)

Pretty Little Things (The Crane Wives)

Hole In The Silver Lining (The Crane Wives)

I Ain't Done (The Crane Wives)

Nothing's Working Out (meiyo)

J

Record Red (shr)

The Crooked, The Cradle (The Crane Wives)

Arturo

Hollow Moon (The Crane Wives)

Rose

Don't Listen To Them (Undecided)

Hard Sell (The Crane Wives)

I Talk In My Sleep (The Crane Wives)

Back To The Ground (The Crane Wives)

Daydreamer (The Crane Wives)

Duos:

Eden + Arei

Tongues & Teeth (The Crane Wives)

Shoujo Rei (MikitoP)

My Clematis (VIVINOS)

David + Teruko

Self-Proclaimed Angel (VocaloKAT)

Wolf In Sheep's Clothing (Set It Off)

Xander + David

The Diving Bell (The Crane Wives)

Little Soldiers (The Crane Wives)

Eden + Teruko

Can't Go Back (The Crane Wives)

Ace + Levi

Shallow River (The Crane Wives)

Charles + Whit

How To Rest (The Crane Wives)

Arei + David

Empty Page (The Crane Wives)

Min + Teruko

Never Love An Anchor (The Crane Wives)

David (Directed At) Xander

Flowers (refluse)

Min (Directed At) Teruko

Canary In A Coal Mine (The Crane Wives)

Nico (Directed At) Hu

Show Your Fangs (The Crane Wives)

Teruko (Directed At) Xander

Once & For All (The Crane Wives)

The Glacier House (The Crane Wives)

Ace (Directed At) Nico

Down The River (The Crane Wives)

Teruko (Directed At) Min

The Well (The Crane Wives)

Charles (Directed At) Whit

Love Like You (Rebecca Sugar)

Hu (Directed At) Nico

MIRA (Kanaria)

David (Directed At) Teruko

God-ish (pinocchiop)

Ace + (Directed At) Levi

Killing Butterflies (Lewis Blissett)

Trios

David (Directed At) Xander + Arei

Unraveling (The Crane Wives)

[ecc-poetry]

SMASH THE MUSEUM, I NEED OXYGEN Elisa Chavez

exhibit 1.  My dad texts:  IS CRIME REALLY UP IN SEATTLE?  I send him a picture of the garden at Cal Anderson's heart. Black Lives Memorial. NO, I say. It felt like proof to me. Diversifying  in the face of scarcity. Transubstantiating the earth into wafers. 

exhibit 2. The oregon grape, qʷəbqʷəbčac  (qweb-qweb-chadth),  mahonia aquifolium, is "beloved by hummingbirds and bees."  I bring coffee to tired throats,  I bring post-it notes and pens; call me pollinator. Black and gold, buzzing corona.  Feathered shoulders. Busy, busy. 

exhibit 3.  Commenting Seattle says, Get rid of that weed patch, then the road mural on Pine. It's eating up the space we need for cars. Spare me your tree museum.  Your noblesse oblige, your death printed in triplicate. This feels like the right time to say  that I personally don't get the Mona Lisa. Kids' art I understand: color anarchy,  eyes wilding like coals in construction paper. Words I understand. I always stop for messages on telephone poles and building corners: "Wanted: the squirrel who stole my bagel"; "when I helped build this place  a worker fell down the elevator shaft and died." The Venus de Milo, I understand: armless, beautiful. Found in a farmer's field, where his habits of sowing and upturning resurrected the goddess from the earth. This is to say that not all beauty will make itself obvious to you.

exhibit 4. I watch my best friend pick blackberries straight from the bush by I-5. She swallows, no fear. I'm too scared to eat without permission, but I've thought of smoke and the tart juice ever since.  I read blackberries grow especially well  on the sites of old house fires.  I hope if I have to, I'll do the same.

exhibit 5. In the garden, we hors d'oeuvre  like it's a birthday party. We sing, we town hall, we fucking juggle. A man falls; like bees, we shift to give him space.  Like bees, the gardeners tend. Someone says, "I have narcan" and they get him back to blooming. Straggling, maybe. Pretty, maybe not. But alive.

exhibit 6. Ms. Lyles, this one's for you. For your children, who I pray will learn the story of a city that did better. Grief is a seed. It waits through winter, sprouts between the ribs like sidewalk cracks and puts reminders in your lungs. It's okay to breathe your grief. It's okay to speak it. Our grief is a story committed to dirt. We just hope something good will grow.

Hey friends, if you're in the Seattle area, please consider lending your voice to saving the Black Lives Memorial Garden! There is so much you can do that would be helpful to preserving this vital space: filling out a community survey, donating, asking local orgs and businesses you frequent to sign the letter of support. And more, probably!

Please share this poem/post/the linked resources with Seattle buddies, and remember to support your local gardeners. Okay I luh you buh-bye!