#we love vessel in this household

[s1ushyz]

When life gets so hard, you just gotta listen to this whole album all over again

[jyeshindra]

ALL ABOUT GEMINI RISING

Ah, we've made it to the witty chatterboxes of the zodiac, our lovely Gemini Risings! Let's go over the traits and energies of this dynamic, Mercury-ruled placement.

As a reminder, our ascendant is a very personal point in the chart. It is what we see when we gaze out into the horizon. What shall we claim? How do we see the world? And how does the rest of the world see us? In ways, I do believe our ascendant is more revealing than the sun sign. It tells the story of our soul's...why we are here and what we are meant to learn.

We begin with the chart ruler, Mercury. How does Mercury behave in the mutable, airy sign of Gemini? Especially when geared towards one's direction in life?

Mercury is a special planet, having no gender and being one of the fastest moving planets in astrology. In mythology Mercury is associated with tricksters, messengers, writers, and magicians. Mercury is here and there, playing both sides and aligning with motivations not entirely rooted in blacks and whites. Mercury is one to see the grays and to ask "why?". To seek out information and to feed their mind.

You are much like Mercury, Gemini Rising. What you wish to pursue is knowledge itself! You have curious souls that seek to know and explore everything. Information is valuable to you and you know how to get it and what questions to ask. Your mind is hungry and always searching for stimulation.

You are also a connector. Gemini, like the other air signs (and Virgo), are represented by humans, not animals. This speaks to your purpose Gemini which is to connect. You have an ability to understand the intricacies of a situation, of a people, of a culture, and make the necessary connections. If Aries pioneered the land and Taurus settled it, Gemini finds the trade routes and explores other parts of the land and the surrounding peoples.

These risings are often seen as scattered, talkative, and witty. They are blessed with the gift of gab and often charm those that they talk to with their youthful disposition and excitable mannerisms. Mercury makes these sensitive to stimuli and you can often spot a Gemini Rising by their plethora of expressions! You may seem all over the place to some, Gemini, but your mind is constantly assembling and processing and searching. It makes sense!

Appearance-wise, Mercury gives one a child-like or elfin appearance. I've seen these ascendants have bright eyes, a dazzling smile, and maybe even a high-pitched voice. They may also be wiry, with large foreheads and beautiful hands. Perhaps your face is adorned with glasses to give you your mercurial edge?

I believe it is you, Gemini who becomes the mirror for others. You are impressionable, taking on the characteristics of everyone you meet; their speech, their mannerisms, their thoughts even. You take what you need and leave the rest. You are changeable and always open to a conversation or to a new idea. It's this quality that makes you the perfect vessel for your soul's true desire; to reach large audiences and spread your information with the world!

I think with the Virgo 4th house, Gemini often had to teach themselves a lot. Information played a huge role in the household, either in proving oneself as knowledgeable or avoiding criticism from others. Perhaps the Gemini had siblings to care for, or parents who weren't really around. Or maybe there were overbearing guardians who left a sense of helplessness in the Gemini, so they compensate with information.

There may have been no room in your home environment for emotions, Gemini, and so you over-think everything. Your attention to detail is innate, and you can study any topic thoroughly and deeply (Scorpio 6th House), but you are, in ways, avoidant of your own emotional experience. In fact, all your water houses are in Earth, Gemini! This is also likely a sign that your ability to persist and stay strong, to persevere and commit, is a bit unconscious to you. There is some wound of authority here with that Capricorn 8th house, and perhaps your power lies in discipline. In applying yourself time and time again to master whatever it is that you wish to give to the world. 

There are beautiful things to be shared from your mind Gemini with this Pisces 10th House. You want to be seen in your multi-faceted-ness with all of your creative and awesome gifts. You want to be acknowledged and appreciated, not used or taken advantage of. Others may see you in a Piscean way when you take the stage, Gemini. You may have many different things going on at once, or you become someone who can reach a lot of different people. You may change careers a lot! Some famous Gemini Risings include Gordon Ramsey (restaurants feat. world cuisine is very Piscean), Drew Barrymore (isn't she the sweetest?), and Mindy Kaling (so many different projects!)

Lastly, the Taurus 12th house speaks to an inner beauty and artistry within you Gemini. Truly you come from the Earth, with a purity in you that seeks to understand everything in this earthly plane. No stone shall be left unturned! You have left behind a more solid approach to something more airy and exciting. There is so much for you to learn Gemini! But do not forget to rest! Do not forget you come from the Earth and you shall return to the Earth. Take care of your body, eat good food, cover yourself in oils and balms, and appreciate the body you have been given. Your mind is beautiful, but so is the rest of you, Gemini! Adorn it.

Your 7th House is ruled by Sagittarius, indicating you need partnerships that allow you to step outside of your comfort zone and explore your physical reality. You may stay glued to your screens or to your books or to your own mind when you truly do yearn to see and experience and live. Sagittarius will teach you this Gemini, that there is much to be learned and wisdom to be gained from LIVING. You want someone who can teach you about the world and brings you depth and perspective.

You will learn so much through your experiences Gemini and you must acknowledge the darkness within your own heart. That Capricorn 8th house may urge you to close it forever. Fear and paranoia may surround you in matters of merging, despite your desire to connect everything. Dive fearlessly into your own abyss, for this is the power of Capricorn! The strength to persevere and overcome!

That's all for the Gemini Risings for this week. Next week we'll dig into the Cancer Ascendant and discover more about these lovely Moon-ruled folk.

[kooki914]

What do you think will Toriel's relationship with Mrs. Holiday be like? A foil situation maybe? It's kind of strange that for a family so closely tied to the Dreemurr Toriel never has talked about any of them. Wonder what she actually thinks about Noelle?

All good questions, honestly! I believe Toriel isn't really the type to seek out super close friendships with people to begin with (her friendship with Sans seems to almost be an accident in both worlds), and Rudy mentions how their families have drifted apart over the years. I feel like part of this can be attributed to her and Asgore's divorce (as him and Rudy are close, breaking up with Asgore probably made stuff awkward between Toriel and Rudy), but another part is also Dess' disappearance I think (her and Asriel were close, and it's been hinted that after she disappeared, Kris stopped hanging out with Noelle too, and it might've given the parents less incentive to stay in touch with each other overall).

On the question on mayor Holiday and Toriel specifically, I DO kind of see them as foils already? Toriel is a smothering and loving parent while mayor Holiday is strict and cold. The one thing they have in common is they're both reactionary (Noelle being afraid her mother would take away her console if she saw her crying over a game, contrasted to Toriel taking Asriel to church every day for a week because of a first kiss), and they both seem to have a need for control over nearly everything. With mayor Holiday it's not even subtle, while with Toriel it's less overtly "control freak" vibes and more specifically someone who's so used to having all responsibility on her shoulders alone, that she doesn't even notice she's doing it to herself most of the time.

If they were to be proper foils, I'd like if it were an extension of the themes around freedom and control, honestly, and not even in the parental sense. Deltarune seems like it has a lot to say on free will vs predeterminism, and I think marriage - holy matrimony - is an interesting vessel to explore that through. Toriel as someone who ended her marriage for personal reasons, which can be misconstrued as selfish if you don't take into account her feelings and needs as a person, contrasted to mayor Holiday who seems to have an iron grip on her family's dynamic, which can be misconstrued as people-oriented if we fail to take into account the effects that has on Noelle and Rudy (and possibly even Dess when she was around). The Holiday household seems pretty toxic, with Rudy constantly in the role of mediator, Noelle in the (psychological) role of "adaptive child" (see The Entire Snowgrave Route for why that's horrendous), and mayor Holiday seemingly in the role of judge, jury and executioner.

Basically, Toriel as someone who liberated herself and mayor Holiday as someone who refuses to let others be liberated, sort of. A hint of it can even be seen in how they treat someone like Asgore. Toriel privately shittalks him but isn't really cruel to him to his face (which gives him the wrong idea, sadly), while mayor Holiday is "lenient" with his rent payment while being clearly cold and cruel about his personal plights. Toriel is someone who wants to move on and make as little of a mess as she does so, while mayor Holiday could be someone who prioritises a "safe" stasis over any kind of change to the detriment of everyone around her. Toriel is "mean" but empathetic, mayor Holiday is "giving" but cruel - possibly another commentary about how being "nice" isn't always a good thing, how some people do it out of necessity (Toriel) while others do it as a manipulative tactic (mayor Holiday), and how overall issues are always more complicated than they seem. More complicated than someone who, say, just tells you to "sell more flowers" would think they are, based on her limited willingness to see from anyone else's point of view.

(This is offtopic but this is really interesting symbolism to me: if we look at Asgore giving people flowers as a metaphor for giving people love and attention, *selling* more flowers wouldn't even directly help him, in a narrative sense. He's giving Toriel flowers and she keeps throwing them away, EVERYONE does, because they fundamentally don't need or want them. Asgore is someone the community doesn't need anymore, and the mayor's solution to that is "put a price on it", because to her (I speculate) ALL relationships are transactional. She thinks his problem is that he's TOO loving, that he's TOO giving, rather than that hes throwing his love into an endless black hole that will never return the gesture. Anyway, that's enough rambling about Asgore on a Toriel post, sorry!)

Oh, and I nearly forgot to answer: I don't think Toriel would have particularly strong feelings towards Noelle? Toriel's nice to every kid she knows, but I think the inverse, what Noelle thinks of Toriel, is a more interesting question. Knowing Noelle's issues with mother figures, does she see Toriel as aspirational, or does she think Toriel is faking it and using kindness as manipulation (like mayor Holiday may be prone to doing)? Is Noelle weary of Kris' mom, hence not coming over to their house often, or is she nostalgic about the bond their families had and remembers Toriel more like an aunt than a mother? Since we know she's scared of her mom, is she vaguely hoping her own parents will separate, or did Toriel set a "bad precedent" in her eyes and she dreads her family being pulled apart further? All very very interesting questions, in my opinion, and I hope we see more of the Holiday/Dreemurr dynamics as the story goes on.

[dadsbongos]

the end of evangelion - s.geto & s.gojo & s.ieiri

part of the jjk movie marathon event / movie selection … warnings - children being traumatized by toji, you are killed and then revived :) , plasma vessel arc spoilers, i fucking love tragic character relationships <3 word count - 3.8 K / rating - PG-13

Satoru notices three things before him. Bangs. Mole. Bug eyes.

He doesn’t really remember their names, he supposes he probably should if he wants to seem polite.

But he wasn’t good at any of that, so he simply places his hand over his chest and proudly declares, “Gojo, Satoru, and I hope none of you think I plan on carrying the class.”

The one staring with wide, bashful eyes suddenly sours, glaring at him from beside the girl with the mole. A quiet laugh rumbles from the chest of the pretty boy with his bangs hanging over his eye. Satoru’s teacher sighs quietly before clapping him on the shoulder, the large hand heavy on his bony shoulder.

“Please, take a seat by Geto and we can begin.”

Satoru pauses, hands jammed in his pockets. His eyes are narrowed behind pitch-black, square lenses. Geto, Geto, Geto…

“Which one was that?”

The big-eyed one guffaws while the girl with the mole snorts. The both of them turn to the other boy. Ah, so it must be him, then.

“Geto, here,” the one with the bangs raises his hand, eyes straying towards the door as if he’s already prepared to bolt.

Yaga waits for Satoru to find his seat before standing in front of his four first-years. He looks out at them and sees two very different paths. One full of bountiful success; First Grade sorcerers chock-full of household names in the jujutsu world. And one of shameful failures, a crew barely able to work together long enough in the Kyoto exchange event let alone actually operate missions as a team.

Though, he watches as you and Shoko re-introduce yourselves to Satoru. The six-eyes user, surprisingly, nods along and seems to genuinely retain the information. Yaga feels hope bloom in his chest.

With such unique techniques gathered in one room, there is real potential here for a fruitful future.

“Just one more, c’mon!” Satoru nuzzles his warm cheek between yours and Suguru’s, and begs as if he doesn’t have you both trapped beneath his arms. For such a scrawny guy, he sure does have a good grip.

“We’ve been here for hours, ‘Toru!” you whine, but your body is already completely lax against his side.

Suguru hums along to your point with a gentle nod, “Yaga-sensei still has a reservation we need to get to, Satoru.”

“Aw, let the prince have this!” Shoko, for once, sides with the wonder boy beside you. She holds up her camera and grins, “One more and then dinner!”

“Quickly, please?!” Yaga calls from over the girl’s shoulder, “If we’re late, one of you has to pay for the replacement dinner!”

“Not it!” you call at the same time Suguru purrs it. Satoru rolls his eyes, arms squeezing even tighter around both of your necks.

“As if it would’ve been anyone else.”

“Alright, smiles!” Shoko glares over the lens of her camera, lashes narrowed, despite the uptilt of her rosy lips, “And hold up the awards - Yu and I worked hard on those!”

You, Satoru, and Suguru display the thin, crinkle-edged papers with crudely drawn-on golden trim and sky blue ribbon. In large black crayon scrawls are your names over the front with ‘OFFICIAL FIRST GRADER’ below. It must’ve taken less than a minute each, but you’re already mentally plotting where exactly you want to hang yours in your dorm. Maybe you could even goad Satoru into buying you each matching frames.

“Alright, alright,” Yaga calls, checking his watch for the umpteenth time since Shoko called for another picture, “Let’s go! Goddamn!”

“Okay,” Shoko lowers the camera, flicking through the many photos she’d collected over the evening, “There may be some actual salvageable ones in here.”

“At least you can’t tell when ‘Toru blinks,” you bounce over to her side, carefully cradling the homemade paper award to your chest.

“No,” Shoko pouts suddenly, staring into the sharp glare in Satoru’s glasses, “Dammit - you can see me in those stupid shades!”

“Good!” you lean over to follow her gaze, “That way everybody who sees it will know you were here, too.”

“But I look goofy…”

Suguru towers over the brunette’s back to look at the photo, “Yeah, you do.”

“Hey!”

“He’s right,” Satoru snickers, having not even glanced at the camera screen.

“Hey!”

All three Grade One Tokyo branch students sent as escorts are fatally injured. Two dead. Both later revived.

You can feel it all down your neck. Cold and prickly and squeezing. The base of your throat cinches, heart banging against every bone rung in your chest - trying desperately to free itself. Instinctively, your shoulders bunch up towards your neck; the tips of your fingers go numb, and the numbness spreads up your hands. As if your body itself is trying to shut down. Some unfair, automatic reaction in the face of a bigger predator.

Your knees buckle.

Toji has a hand on his hip, head tilting with a lazy grin, “You’re not on the list, y’know?”

You swallow thickly, eyes scrambling hurriedly over the hulking form before you. Broad shoulders and muscles, at least three times the size of your head, doused in midnight black. You think you make fists.

“You can run, kid,” Toji raises both brows high along his forehead, “If you don’t think you’ll win, you can run.”

It’s cold. So cold it burns. Your jaw clenches. Air fails to reach the hull of your lungs before it’s all punched back out.

“I do it,” Toji jerks the sword in his hand.

Snapped third blade.

Maroon handle.

It’s shiny. Blinding.

Your eyes flicker from the blade to Toji. The blade. It’s familiar. You’ve seen it in a picture. It has a name. The blade glints, sunlight sliding across the metal. Your stare shoots back up to Toji. Toji Fushiguro.

Your legs are going numb now.

Toji’s eyes glide downward, your own snapping to where he glances. Your hands are balled into fists. They’re shaking. Is it fear? Is it anger?

Or are you just tensing too harshly?

Your eyes fall past your hands. Lingering on the concrete beneath your shifting feet.

“I…” your throat tightens, choking off your words. No saliva is willing to slip down and coat the dryness, but you try again, “I won’t run…”

Toji laughs. Head thrown back. Hand still on his hip, Toji twists the blade in his grasp, nodding to himself, “Alright.”

It’s humiliating.

The way your legs tremble as you try to attack. The way your arms lock into place as you barely manage to meet Toji’s eyes.

It’s humiliating: the way you’re on your back so soon.

Toji’s eyes are still, steady in their hold on your own. However, you don’t return his simple gaze. Darting from Toji’s face to the blade above your chest to the gate Suguru and Riko had run through. The blade plunges down.

Your whole body starts to tingle. Deadening. You hear a crack right below your ear. Sunlight dancing off the sword in Toji’s big hands, it’s a lot brighter up close in your chest.

Air startles in your throat, and you cough. Crimson bubbles up with it. Somewhere in the back of your head, you know what this means. A punctured lung. Severed thoracic artery. But that isn’t your main focus.

Toji rips the sword from your chest, his palm pressing against your throat to keep your body down as he pulls the cursed tool free.

You and Shoko had to do a report on that tool back in your first year.

The Inverted Spear of Heaven. Cuts through any technique.

She’d probably laugh that you got attacked with it if she didn’t know you were dying. If she knew that she’d probably try healing you.

Toji turns his back to you, stuffing the Inverted Spear into the worm looming around his body. His hands go into his pockets. Jaw unhinging in a heavy yawn while he approaches the main chamber of Tengen’s tomb. You don’t think he hears you giggle. It probably wouldn’t matter anyway.

The blood is warm against your cheeks. Pooling beneath your head and soaking into your hair.

You giggle, remembering how childishly your stoic friend described the complicated nature of her reverse cursed technique.

How was it again?

Fwoy… then hiyo?

Your eyelids droop. Gaze unfocused on the sky.

Fwoy. Then hiyo.

“How do you feel?” Shoko scrubs her thumb over the smooth surface of her Zippo lighter within her pocket. Her tongue dances over her bottom lip, chapped and rough. She briefly wonders where her chapstick tube is before returning to the present, “Stronger?”

Satoru snickers, an arm draped over your shoulders loosely. It feels odd, somehow an indent against the back of your uniform and yet entirely weightless. He shrugs, “Nah. I was already the strongest, anyway.”

“No more bragging,” you nudge an elbow into his side, but the hit fails to connect, “Your ego has been fed enough for tonight. Don’t you think, Suguru?”

“Hm?” the boy’s hair flutters around his shoulders, head jerking into attention. His arms are folded across his chest and it takes an awfully silent pause before he responds, “Yeah,” he steps closer, blinking up at Satoru, “No more ego-feeding, now you get to feed us, hm?”

“Fine,” Satoru groans, as if that hadn’t been the plan since you all knew he was being promoted, “We have to be quick finding a place, though,” he tugs at the collar of his uniform stiffly, “I didn’t exactly call anywhere ahead.”

“You’re Gojo, Satoru,” Shoko jams a hand in her other pocket, searching for her missing chapstick, “You’ll get us anywhere.”

“So irresponsible,” you muse.

“Well! This is my night, you know?! Why am I supposed to be the event planner?”

“Just ‘cuz Yaga-sensei isn’t here,” Suguru ‘tsk’s, waggling a finger at his friend, “For shame, Satoru.”

The overhead neons and flashing bulbs cast menacing shadows over the pale plains of Suguru’s face. Shadows falling under the bags beneath his eyes.

You contemplate asking.

You know it’ll be pointless.

“Hey, have you been okay?” you whisper against Suguru’s side. His body is warm and tense beneath his loose, hanging, boring beige shirt.

His faraway stare sparks suddenly, shortening back to where you stand beside him. He smiles down at you, it doesn’t reach his eyes so he manually crinkles them shut. He nods curtly, “Yeah…” and then nods again, “Yeah.”

Special Grade is sent as a replacement.

“You’ll be okay,” your hands are cupped over the searing, jagged incision in Kento’s stomach, blood pooling around your fingers and knuckles, “You’ll be okay, right?”

Kento can’t hear you very well, just the bland rolls of your voice. Crackling and raspy from the pressure of screaming.

“Oh, God, Shoko- “ you look around the morgue, trying desperately to unlock that flame from last month. The one you harnessed to save yourself, now desperate to save your friend, “Haibara… God, oh God,” you want to reach out and cradle the other boy, “Nanami, please don’t die.”

The blond blinks up at you, and you’re not even sure he understood your weak plea.

You need to keep your hands on Kento’s wound, but you want to take Yu into your arms. If there is any chance that he could still be living, you want his last moments to be warm and loving. Yu is not someone that should die, but if he has to - it should be kindly. And this was not kindly.

“I’m here!” Shoko barges into the cold morgue, skin bristling with the chilled air. The metal door clangs loudly against the wall, her body moves swiftly through the area as if she’s done this countless times. She almost crashes into the steel table that Yu rests on, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here…” she lays her hands on his cheeks, wiping at the blood splattered up his neck and chin, “I’m here…”

She cannot bring herself to look down at where the cloth over his body suddenly dips.

“Shoko,” your arms shake, “Shoko, you need to take care of Nanami.”

Her shoulders are tensed up to her bobbed hair. She steps back from Yu and joins your side at Kento’s body. Her hands overtake yours and you withdraw. The blood flows down your fingers and drips onto the floor.

“You,” Shoko whispers, shoulders still high, “Thank you.”

“I could only keep him alive,” you’re not nearly as adept at reverse cursed energy as Shoko, but you hope it was enough to at least save one friend tonight.

“Thank you,” she whispers, staring at Yu’s bisected corpse.

Satoru and Shoko are on opposite sides of Japan. Satoru is in Osaka, and Shoko is in Yamagata. Yaga-sensei is in Kyoto for the next week. You and Suguru are in Tokyo. You clasp his hand in yours.

“I’m really proud of you.”

Suguru brings you closer, his hand is warm. And large, “You’re Special Grade, too.”

“But I’m proud of you.”

He can still remember you as you were brought to him by Satoru. Blood drying and muddying in the weeds of your hair to your skull, crimson dyeing the cracks in your lips. Chest still and unbeating. No warmth in your veins. You would soon be ice cold.

You could have been.

And then you coughed and sputtered and shot up in Satoru’s arms, throwing him entirely off balance. The both of you had fallen over and you were the only one laughing it off.

You haven’t laughed like that since it sunk in what the darkness you saw before waking up was.

He remembers the anger he felt when he wasn’t able to maim Toji himself. The anger he felt over Toji being allowed to live into adulthood at all. That he could breed and eat and love like he was some kind of person. He should be dumb and drooling and helpless under Suguru’s palm like any other wild animal. That anger was so palpable that he couldn’t sleep for the next two days.

Then there was the mourning.

He never wants to see you like that again. Not to a bare-fisted, feral monkey. And not to a curse.

He’s sick at the thought.

“I’m proud of you, too,” he squeezes your hand. The lights of Tokyo continue to do his gaunt face no justice. Pale skin stretched over aching bone. He smiles, and he does not bother trying to make his eyes squint up.

He wishes that you being a fellow Special Grade could ease his worries. But even as you walk hand-in-hand back to the dorms, that image of you - still and cold - refuses to go down.

“I just want you to hear it from me. I know what I’ve done. I’m in my right mind. I just couldn’t let them… this village was full of non-sorcerers who tortured two girls with cursed energy. I have to make this world better for… I can’t sit back and let them form curses and kill us off. I can’t let a corrupt world continue to cut away at everyone I love. Do with this as you will, I won’t be mad if it becomes evidence against me. Just… don’t show Satoru. If I can keep some sort of reputation with him, then for now I’d like to. But I don’t regret it. I just regret not being able to say this in person.”

You play the voicemail again.

And again.

And again.

And you don’t show Satoru. Or Yaga. Or Gakuganji.

It was a simple job. Get in. Exorcize a curse from a dead-end 9-5 office. Get out. You and Satoru were quick enough - got in and exorcized the curse in the dead-end 9-5 office - and now to get out.

You watch your janky, funhouse reflection in the steel elevator doors. It’s a blurry and stretched thing, but it’s you. You look up and watch the floors tick, tick, tick down.

Satoru is leaning against the wall to your right, his left leg is bent out with his shoe jammed rudely against the wall. His eyes pierce the back of your head. He can’t tell if you’re intentionally ignoring him or just that dense; either way, he hates it.

He scoffs, “I don’t get it.”

“Get what, Satoru?”

Satoru folds his arms - he can't pinpoint it, but these days you make him sick - “He just left. Like it was that easy. Like…”

He wants to see you react. He wants to watch you clench your fists and bow your head, but you don’t. Instead, you say, “It was that easy for him. He hated how the school does things, so he left. He hated that village, so he got rid of it.”

Kicking himself off the wall, Satoru throws his arms out for emphasis. Too bad you’re still staring at that damn floor counter, “So just picking up and leaving us was that easy? He could’ve called us! He could’ve said how he was feeling!”

You swallow thickly, heat clings to the back of your neck.

“But he didn’t,” your hands are limp at your sides, voice shallow, “Trying to find purpose in things you’ll never know the answer to will drive you insane. He left - he isn’t coming back. And if he does, it’ll be to die.”

“We could’ve done something!” Satoru’s voice cracks in the middle, his nails stabbing into his palms.

“But we didn’t. And now we can’t.”

“Why aren’t you angry?!” he shoves you from behind. His hands are neither hot nor cold. Not soft or rough. The space of his infinity doesn’t feel like anything even though it still stubs against your uniform, “Dammit, don’t you care?!”

You stumble from the force of his push, quickly regaining balance and turning to look at Satoru. Your brows crinkle just slightly, lips tugging down at the corners, “Trying to find answers for something you’ll never know will drive you crazy. It’s best to just let it go.”

There’s a flame behind those crystalline eyes, his fists dig into his thighs, “How can you do that?”

“What? Move on?”

“Not care.”

“I care.”

“You don’t,” his throat bobs, white eyelashes batting shut and chin tucking down to his chest. His voice wavers, “Suguru was the only other person that could understand my every thought. He wasn’t someone you could find just anywhere. He was someone I couldn’t imagine going a day without, and now every day is one without him. He never told us what was going on, and he left without so much as a goodbye. And you don’t care! Why don’t you care?!”

“Suguru had his reasons,” you reach out, fingers brushing against the sheer nothingness of his infinity and entwining your hand with his. It isn’t hot or cold. Just imperceivable space between your palms, “I’ll never know them, not like he did. So I can’t waste my time pretending that one day I will. It hurts that he’s gone, and I wish I could’ve done more. But I didn’t. And I can’t. Suguru isn’t coming back, and if he does it’s to die,” you lean down to try and catch Satoru’s eyes through the pitch-black shades of his glasses, “We might even have to be the ones that kill him. I’m letting it go before I go crazy.”

“You already are,” he sniffs, “That’s why you don’t cry when your friend goes off to die.”

“And you’re too obsessive over it,” you release his hand, winding your grip into the front of Satoru’s uniform and yanking him close, “That’s why you’re so blinded by Suguru leaving that you can’t see me and Shoko still on the sidelines. Have you even asked how Shoko is?”

Satoru snatches your wrist. The pressure is intense and unmistakably inhuman, “Let go of me.”

“Or what?”

Despite not being too far from the colored flushes of busy Shibuya in Tokyo, Jujutsu Tech has a grandiose view of the stars. Especially if you sneak up onto the roof of the dorms, edging slightly past the lower hanging trees. You can stare up at the endless void of space and get an eyeful of the stars blinking down at you without having to squint through gaps in leaves. You can sit quietly and feel the gentle breeze caress over your exposed skin. And you could pretend you are alone until the creaking of a second pair of feet echoes behind you.

There’s no need to turn, having already known who the second pair of skittish feet belong to. And knowing that, means knowing what you want to say first,

“I don’t know how to do this for the rest of my life.”

“You don’t have to. Sorcerers don’t usually live long enough for it to matter.”

“It should matter!” Satoru snaps, he glares at you sharply, “I should’ve been able to be a kid! We should’ve been able to be kids!”

You sigh quietly, looking off to the side, afraid that staring too deeply into Satoru’s uncovered eyes may have the same effect as the sun, “The life of a sorcerer is pointless. An under-manned army that gets no thanks. You can accept that and come back, or don’t. Don’t, and go live a more fulfilling life, knowing that you are the strongest and knowing that you made a choice unlike any other sorcerer before you. But someone else will have to take your place.”

Satoru blinks up at you slowly. His long white lashes frame his eyes, his cheeks are sunken and thin. Eggshell, almost, in color. His chest rises, a loud inhale flowing with the movement before he blows it out just as noisily, “That’s bleak.”

“Right?”

“You sound like you’re guilt-tripping me.”

“Maybe a little.”

Because maybe you are. But you mean every word you say.

Satoru can make any decision he wants, but he will have to wake up knowing there are many lives he could’ve saved. And he’ll pretend it doesn’t haunt him the same way Suguru tried to. And he will fail the same way Suguru did.

“Whatever you pick, just remember that Shoko and I are still your friends,” you sit beside him and lean into his side, “We were friends with Sugu’, too.”

“I know. It’s just hard.”

His skin is warm and flush against yours. His head leans onto yours. Hair soft and tickling your forehead.

“Then let it be hard, but don’t pretend you’re all alone.”

And Satoru can’t very well leave you and Shoko and Kento to die as the only remaining students at Jujutsu Tech, so he will return and doom himself to the life of a sorcerer. And he will kill Suguru so that you do not have to.

[parhelios]

ok sorry if this is messy or incoherent i am sick as hell rn but here is the lestat & gabrielle posting i promised. one of the first things in tvl we learn about her is that gabrielle's main coping mechanism is reading books, books which she never teaches her son to read or even to write basic words. as we learn from lestat, the only things he could write confidently by the time he was turned into a vampire were his name, and 'lord jesus christ', both of which he is implied to have learned at the monastary he went to when he was 12. while his mother did pay for him to study there, she never takes into her own hands anything regarding lestat's education or connecting with him through literature, something we know he does come to love in his later life, at least in the form of shakespeare and theatric literature.

what she does provide lestat, like the monastic education, are his guns and his dogs, all of which are associated with the roles men are expected to play. in this way, he is pushed towards not just the role of the provider for the family, but an idealized masculinized role. gabrielle, as we see, connects closer with lestat than the rest of the family, or at the very least, identifies with him, his anger, and she provides him with what could be seen as tools that can enact that anger, and no other coping mechanisms. however, lestat is someone who is fundamentally compassionate to those he feels connected to. this forces him exclusively into the role of provider, even when he no longer has to hunt for it. we see in interview with the vampire how he attempts to care for his father, providing him with lavish gifts and trappings and caring for his every earthly need (despite despising him to the bone). all this is to say, that for gabrielle, lestat acts as an idealized masculine avatar of herself, able to take up masculine roles in the household and engage in masculine forms of behavior which are barred to her in her position as a wife and mother. she projects on him, telling him her fantasies both violent and sexual but never truly sharing the tools which she uses to make an escape from the household. he is an extension of her desire, and she controls what he learns and what he does without ever really investing into him, caring for him. he is a vessel for her desire, someone she speaks to as an adult and a confidant, but not her child.

[haggishlyhagging]

By choice, [Emily Dickinson] had moved her life into metaphor and through words discovered a power of control and creativity far beyond that reached by most writers, male or female. Her work is extraordinary both in form and content. Her wrenched syntax, elliptic language and intense metaphors confined within the smallest possible poetic space endow her work on the humblest subject matter—insects, bees, the movement of grass in the wind—with transcendent metaphysical and allegorical meaning. Like all great artists she created a world of her own, a secret and often mysterious alternate world in which she ruled freely and with total control. The common language of biblical metaphor, Christian myth and poetic reference allowed readers—or rather future readers—some foothold of entry, but Dickinson complicated both entry and participation by the way in which her language transformed the common symbols and gave them her own, quite specific meanings. No woman poet before her had ever probed the depths of her own feelings with such honesty or confronted her own passion, rage and despair with such surgical accuracy and cool detachment.

But her work goes far beyond self-exploration. Dickinson's poems, read in their entirety and read along with her letters, reveal her as a major thinker who created a work of large scale. Like her predecessors, the medieval mystics, Dickinson was concerned with the large, metaphysical questions: man's relationship to God, to death and to Redemption. Unlike them, she was not sustained or supported by an institutional framework of explanation—she rejected both the Church and the Calvinist theology in which she was raised. In their place, she developed a loving and ultimately healing nature philosophy, and she wrote of love, friendship and nurturance, of rejection, betrayal and loss. She wrote of these themes as a woman, out of a consciousness grounded in a deep homoerotic and creative commitment to women.

She had taken loss, disappointment and abandonment through death and absence and turned them into renunciation, transforming them into sources of power. Her feat was subversive, in the best tradition of women's resistance to patriarchy. She turned the very "female virtues" into their opposites: passivity turned to watchfulness and the ability for concentrated listening to inner voices and signs; submissiveness turned into calculated withdrawal to the point of invisibility—I am so small, I disappear, like the mouse, like the bird ("I'm Nobody!"; #288). My weakness entitles my speech to heightened significance, not only because I am "God's trumpet" or a vessel for divine instruction, as Hildegard was, but because I am common, like household chores, like the dailyness of women's lives, like the humble bees and birds and meadow flowers. Renunciation of self was transformed into the immense discipline which could disdain what it could not gain and thus triumph over desire. It was out of this renunciation—which the mystics expressed through their chastity and their mortification of the flesh—that she could gain the arrogance of the God-wrestler, the divine Creator and the keeper of mysteries.

The questions we have asked of her life-choices—Were they necessary? Were they socially conditioned through patriarchal gender definitions? Were they the result of rejection by others?—are all essentially irrelevant. She found a way out of the conditions her life presented to her, and in so doing she dismantled the cage of restraints which patriarchal definition had placed on women of talent. She transformed "the house of her father," which she never physically left and to whose rules she so ostentatiously submitted, into a free temple of ungendered humanity, where the soul stood naked and unencumbered, open at last to all possibilities.

-Gerda Lerner, The Creation of Feminist Consciousness

[teaah-art]

Desi LGBT Fest 2023 (hosted by @desi-lgbt-fest)

Day 7 : Faith/Rituals of Love

Definitely geared heavily towards the 'Faith' part of this prompt as soon as I read it!

If being Queer is defying conventions and if being a part of the Queer community means going against heteronormativity and gender conformity, is it not Queer to forego materialistic ties and the love of a human partner and embrace the love of a greater being you have only heard about in stories?

All four individuals featured here were integral part of the Bhakti Movement and/or Sufism in South Asia. None were married other than Meerabai.

(Panel order from top to bottom)

Chaitanya Mahaprabhu (1486-1534) : A key name of the Bhakti Movement and the Gauriya Vaishnav tradition in 15th Century Bengal, Chaitanya Mahaprabhu was believed to have been a vessel for both Radha and Krishna. Bengali doesn't use pronouns or gendered language and we may never know what they would have preferred to be identified as in a language they didn't know (English), I will simply resort to using They/Them for them. Their written teachings are few and far between but the verse mentioned here is the seventh verse of the only written record of their teachings, the Shikshastakam - a collection of 8 total verses. The translation here is my own and quite literal so that the interpretation is left to the reader.

Meerabai (1498-1597) : [CW : IMPLIED QUEERPHOBIA/APHOBIA] Meerabai was born into Rajput royalty and was married off, also to Rajput royalty, in likely an arranged marriage. While most of the stories surrounding her are folklore whose historicity is yet to be confirmed, her marital status can be confirmed, and so can her devotion and affection for Krishna and the divine, which she has herself penned in numerous poems and songs. Folklore does strongly imply that she was non-committal to her marriage and that her in-laws tried to poison her to death multiple times for it.

Kabir (1398–1448 or 1440–1518) : Found as an orphan by a Muslim weaver couple, Kabir's religion grew to become somewhat of an enigma for future generations. His stance, however, on the topic romance and marital relationships is quite clear - he looked down upon them and a huge chunk of his couplets strongly imply that romantic and sexual relations simply obstruct spiritual enlightenment.

Bulleh Shah (1680-1757) : Bulleh Shah, though an ardent proponent of loving the divine, was declared a Kafir, a non-believer/non-Muslim by a quite a few Muslim clerics of the time. He was known for speaking up against existing power hierarchies of the time and used vernacular speech for his writings (Punjabi, Sindhi) which not only served to popularize his works, but also let people connect to his words.

A personal note on my motivations under the cut.

A while back when I was actively going through the anxiety of finding out that I am ace and that I will never fit into the current South Asian society that the wedding industry has a chokehold on, I desperately wanted to see people from my own culture living happily without a partner. During one of my history rabbit hole escapedes, I restumbled upon the story of Meerabai, how she always insisted on loving and devoting herself towards Krishna, despite being married into a normative and wealthy household and despite her in-laws repeatedly attempting to poison her for not committing to her husband. Most of us from India grow up hearing about Meerabai, her spiritual connections to Krishna, and her struggles. The moral of those stories is always framed as 'believe in god, he will help you through tough times'. But this was the first time I was making a different connection, I was drawing different morals. And when I took Meerabai's non-conformity to her married life and started looking for more examples like hers, I was overwhelmed by how many more individuals existed without a partner, condemned being in a normative, married relationship, admitted to having lost human connections and faced resistance even, and yet stayed true to their orientation and sounded HAPPY! It was extremely hard to narrow it down to these four, but these do make my point! Labels are hard to transpose across cultures and history. But if being queer means being nonconforming of marital structures and being aspec/arospec implies neutrality, indifference, or aversion to romance and intercourse, then no one fits the label if they don't.

[dramavixen]

watch this! – provoke

In times like these, when so many high production-value dramas vie over the spotlight with their intense plots and flashy names, you occasionally need a low-budget show that's just vibing in the corner—a bit of a wallflower and rough around the edges, but it's doing its own thing, doing it quite well, and will provide respite for your overwhelmed brain.

What is Provoke?

A romance-revenge webdrama set in the Republican era. A woman marries the geezer responsible for her parents' death, plotting to ruin him and restore her family's sullied name. Said geezer's son becomes suspicious of her and decides that creating the greatest amount of sexual tension possible with her is the best course of action. Also, he clearly has plans of his own since he's not the guy's real son.

This show is as cheesy and melodramatic as it gets and none of it can be considered logical. It's awesome.

Why watch?

--

We be trendsetters

You got your friends-to-lovers and enemies-to-lovers stories. As timeless as those tropes may be, might I suggest "stepmom-to-lover" as the new trend? (Or how about all three at once?) It's fresh! It's forbidden! It's so ludicrous that the mere existence of the premise is spicy!

In my personal opinion, the execution should have been much spicier. I only very gently clutched my pearls when what I wanted was to feel scandalized through every blood vessel of this tiny body of mine. But alas, I can't bring myself to dislike the love story we did receive. I graciously accept all over-the-top romances.

Ahem. What I meant to say was, ew, gross. What kind of weirdo thought that such an offensive idea could make for good television? Someone classy like me would never.

--

That romance story you wrote as a twelve-year-old after watching an episode of a soap opera...this is that

Rain pours down against the window. A pretty young woman sits in front of her vanity, brushing on a thick layer of makeup even though it's time to go to bed.

Lightning sets the skies aflame, outlining a silhouette that appears in the doorway. It's him, the dashing young master of the household. His dark eyes glint as he leans awkwardly against the wall in an attempt to come off as intimidating. He's soaked from being outside the rain and drops of water fall from the tips of his hair. He kind of looks like an infuriated feline.

She stands when she sees him. He crosses the room.

"What are you—" she stammers, her words catching in her throat as he corners her against the vanity and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her body against his. He grabs her wrist with his other hand and pins it to the table, knocking over an open container of rouge. Its contents burst into a firework of glimmering powder.

His face is close enough that she can feel his breath on her cheek. She tries to lean away from him, but he's too strong. He is a lion, and she a gazelle.

"Have you forgotten?" she says as she struggles against him. "I'm your father's concubine."

"And have you forgotten?" His voice is deep; some might even consider it sultry. "I'm the one who brought you into this family."

They stare at one another. Then he brings his lips crashing down on hers, or whatever the standard cliché for "kissing" is nowadays.

Such goes the first few minutes of the first episode, which also happens to be what's pictured in our provocative poster. Wait until you see the whole scene.

My fanfiction past feels so seen right now.

--

There is exactly one brain cell present

You think that because this is a revenge drama, you're going to get a super intricate plot? Heck no. We don't have the time or brainpower for that, remember? We're here for the fun of it.

Everything about this show is smooth sailing because all of the characters are of mediocre intelligence and ability. Your brain does not need to be in operation at any point. Our female lead? She's probably the smartest one, but it's not like that's impressive when her husband is oddly easy to seduce. His actual wife tries so, so hard to be mean to the new girl in the house but fails with flying colors. Meanwhile, the male lead spends most of his time making heart-eyes at his dad's new concubine. It's like watching a bunch of wild geese chase each other and somehow accomplish things along the way.

--

[insert pun about chemistry and chemistry class here]

These two lead actors could perform all the tropes in the world and I would love it. They bulldoze through a lot in this show and every moment has me grinning like a total creep. That's what low-budget dramas bless us with: shameless clichés. They don't need to make up excuses for why a bridal carry or eye contact that lasts ten minutes exists. After all, we know what we're here for: to satiate our cravings for unrestrained, cheesy-as-heck romance.

The level of acting is higher than you should ask for from a production of this scale. The tension between the two is palpable at every moment, and they truly bring their characters to life. It helps that they're very easy on the eyes. I mean, just look at this pair of bloodthirsty impostors:

When they start falling for one another...oh boy. My weak heart.

--

Cinematography 101

I would include screenshots of how stunning this drama is, but I'm not sure how many would do it justice. The set isn't particularly breathtaking and there aren't many flashy assets otherwise, but the director makes smart decisions with what he has to produce fantastic results. A lot of it is based on motion, which is why still screenshots can't really suffice in displaying his techniques.

Nifty camera angles or tricks aren't what caught my attention, but the combination of basic props, movement, and lighting did. A lot can be accomplished through simplicity to craft a specific atmosphere, which is exactly what makes this drama feel like a large-scale production. You really have to see it in motion to believe it.

--

I'm going to be humming the theme song to myself for the next week as I get this drama out of my system. It grabbed me by the throat and dragged me from the depths of my drama slump. Maybe I need to relive my tacky romance phase.

[boomhoon]

currently trying to cram a 10 minute slideshow presentation in two hours, i’m on slide 6 out of like 20 😭

romeo and juliet act 1, scene 1 under cut cause why not. Guys does this count as plagiarism? will i get sued? we’ll find out on the next episode of dbz

dududu doob meow! rawr woof, do doo do doooo d do he he he he he swee hee hee ven nom nom nom yeah all i need hee heee is your poison!!! like cherry bomb!

PROLOGUE

Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;

Whose misadventured piteous overthrows

Do with their death bury their parents' strife.

The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,

And the continuance of their parents' rage,

Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,

Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;

The which if you with patient ears attend,

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

SCENE I. Verona. A public place.

Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet, armed with swords and bucklers

SAMPSON

Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.

GREGORY

No, for then we should be colliers.

SAMPSON

I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.

GREGORY

Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar.

SAMPSON

I strike quickly, being moved.

GREGORY

But thou art not quickly moved to strike.

SAMPSON

A dog of the house of Montague moves me.

GREGORY

To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:

therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.

SAMPSON

A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will

take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.

GREGORY

That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes

to the wall.

SAMPSON

True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,

are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push

Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids

to the wall.

GREGORY

The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.

SAMPSON

'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I

have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the

maids, and cut off their heads.

GREGORY

The heads of the maids?

SAMPSON

Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads;

take it in what sense thou wilt.

GREGORY

They must take it in sense that feel it.

SAMPSON

Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and

'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.

GREGORY

'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou

hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes

two of the house of the Montagues.

SAMPSON

My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.

GREGORY

How! turn thy back and run?

SAMPSON

Fear me not.

GREGORY

No, marry; I fear thee!

SAMPSON

Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.

GREGORY

I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as

they list.

SAMPSON

Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them;

which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.

Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR

ABRAHAM

Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

SAMPSON

I do bite my thumb, sir.

ABRAHAM

Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

SAMPSON

[Aside to GREGORY] Is the law of our side, if I say

ay?

GREGORY

No.

SAMPSON

No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I

bite my thumb, sir.

GREGORY

Do you quarrel, sir?

ABRAHAM

Quarrel sir! no, sir.

SAMPSON

If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you.

ABRAHAM

No better.

SAMPSON

Well, sir.

GREGORY

Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen.

SAMPSON

Yes, better, sir.

ABRAHAM

You lie.

SAMPSON

Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.

They fight

Enter BENVOLIO

BENVOLIO

Part, fools!

Put up your swords; you know not what you do.

Beats down their swords

Enter TYBALT

TYBALT

What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?

Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.

BENVOLIO

I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,

Or manage it to part these men with me.

TYBALT

What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,

As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:

Have at thee, coward!

They fight

Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs

First Citizen

Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!

Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!

Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET

CAPULET

What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!

LADY CAPULET

A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword?

CAPULET

My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,

And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE

MONTAGUE

Thou villain Capulet,--Hold me not, let me go.

LADY MONTAGUE

Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.

Enter PRINCE, with Attendants

PRINCE

Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,

Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,--

Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,

That quench the fire of your pernicious rage

With purple fountains issuing from your veins,

On pain of torture, from those bloody hands

Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,

And hear the sentence of your moved prince.

Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,

By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,

Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,

And made Verona's ancient citizens

Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,

To wield old partisans, in hands as old,

Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:

If ever you disturb our streets again,

Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

For this time, all the rest depart away:

You Capulet; shall go along with me:

And, Montague, come you this afternoon,

To know our further pleasure in this case,

To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.

Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO

MONTAGUE

Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?

Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?

BENVOLIO

Here were the servants of your adversary,

And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:

I drew to part them: in the instant came

The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared,

Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,

He swung about his head and cut the winds,

Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn:

While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,

Came more and more and fought on part and part,

Till the prince came, who parted either part.

LADY MONTAGUE

O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?

Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

BENVOLIO

Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun

Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,

A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;

Where, underneath the grove of sycamore

That westward rooteth from the city's side,

So early walking did I see your son:

Towards him I made, but he was ware of me

And stole into the covert of the wood:

I, measuring his affections by my own,

That most are busied when they're most alone,

Pursued my humour not pursuing his,

And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.

MONTAGUE

Many a morning hath he there been seen,

With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.

Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;

But all so soon as the all-cheering sun

Should in the furthest east begin to draw

The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,

Away from the light steals home my heavy son,

And private in his chamber pens himself,

Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out

And makes himself an artificial night:

Black and portentous must this humour prove,

Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

BENVOLIO

My noble uncle, do you know the cause?

MONTAGUE

I neither know it nor can learn of him.

BENVOLIO

Have you importuned him by any means?

MONTAGUE

Both by myself and many other friends:

But he, his own affections' counsellor,

Is to himself--I will not say how true--

But to himself so secret and so close,

So far from sounding and discovery,

As is the bud bit with an envious worm,

Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,

Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.

Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow.

We would as willingly give cure as know.

Enter ROMEO

BENVOLIO

See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;

I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.

MONTAGUE

I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,

To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.

Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE

BENVOLIO

Good-morrow, cousin.

ROMEO

Is the day so young?

BENVOLIO

But new struck nine.

ROMEO

Ay me! sad hours seem long.

Was that my father that went hence so fast?

BENVOLIO

It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

ROMEO

Not having that, which, having, makes them short.

BENVOLIO

In love?

ROMEO

Out--

BENVOLIO

Of love?

ROMEO

Out of her favour, where I am in love.

BENVOLIO

Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,

Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

ROMEO

Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,

Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!

Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?

Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.

Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.

Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!

O any thing, of nothing first create!

O heavy lightness! serious vanity!

Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!

Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire,

sick health!

Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!

This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

Dost thou not laugh?

BENVOLIO

No, coz, I rather weep.

ROMEO

Good heart, at what?

BENVOLIO

At thy good heart's oppression.

ROMEO

Why, such is love's transgression.

Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,

Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest

With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown

Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.

Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;

Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;

Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:

What is it else? a madness most discreet,

A choking gall and a preserving sweet.

Farewell, my coz.

BENVOLIO

Soft! I will go along;

An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

ROMEO

Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;

This is not Romeo, he's some other where.

BENVOLIO

Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.

ROMEO

What, shall I groan and tell thee?

BENVOLIO

Groan! why, no.

But sadly tell me who.

ROMEO

Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:

Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!

In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

BENVOLIO

I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.

ROMEO

A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love.

BENVOLIO

A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.

ROMEO

Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit

With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit;

And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,

From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.

She will not stay the siege of loving terms,

Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,

Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:

O, she is rich in beauty, only poor,

That when she dies with beauty dies her store.

BENVOLIO

Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?

ROMEO

She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,

For beauty starved with her severity

Cuts beauty off from all posterity.

She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,

To merit bliss by making me despair:

She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow

Do I live dead that live to tell it now.

BENVOLIO

Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.

ROMEO

O, teach me how I should forget to think.

BENVOLIO

By giving liberty unto thine eyes;

Examine other beauties.

ROMEO

'Tis the way

To call hers exquisite, in question more:

These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows

Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;

He that is strucken blind cannot forget

The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:

Show me a mistress that is passing fair,

What doth her beauty serve, but as a note

Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?

Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.

BENVOLIO

I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

Exeunt

[trainingdummyrabbit]

Starting with

what happens when a black swan wakes up from dreaming of a white swan?

explodes right here right now instantly.

funny story bout this one specifically actually, iwas originally mostly neutral towards her right up until queuing her up into the tourney bracket back in like. november. i had t do a run thru of her combat dialogue and it was just "oh. what. huh?? girl??? girlie hey wait girlie hey," so its fair to say i feel Very Normal about her. but um, to sort this into some sort of something;

Design- immediate bonus points for being Creature. go girl kill. we love bird imagery in this household and she is Rocking it. the crest is fucking impossible to draw but again, it slaps. the fact that most of her body is just that inky black impossible to tell the detail between one thing and another honestly works really well for her. idunno how to explain it, but the wing claws are a Very good look. it coheres 👍 also umbrella weapon bias. she honestly just hurts to look at. compliment. sad wet bird. can i please just gently pat her with a damp towel. ithink that would help her feel a little better.

Theme- explodes right here right now instantly. black swan honestly kinda went right by me my first loop through, but getting to it again? augh. augh. auuguugughghhh. the tie between the childhood disillusionment of optimism and the vessel of an old fable hits like a truck. the core of futile dreaming in a nightmare, tied with the daughter imagery with angela....... augh. it aims and hits the mark! plain and simple and striking. black swan is honestly just generally painful as a whole, and the way it executes that is VERY clean. again, she just kinda hurts to look at. compliment. also the black feather motif...... explodes right here right now instantly.

shes honestly one that was boosted up by just. the ping-pong effect of several of us going 'wait. fuck. wait oh fuck wait shit AUGH' at each other in a circle for a while. like yea. yeahg. its hard to describe just what it is about her thats so . [motions with hands.] because you just have t. just Look at her. listen to her. look at it its on the ceiling, yknow? i love her very much. no notes peak angela 👍

[vvooper]

ok I'm making another ffvii character pokemon team post because I cannot be stopped. here's barret

a couple of these were more difficult to come up with, but I didn't even have to think about a few of the others. details under the cut

his sprite is a recolor of lt surge. the outfit and sunglasses were made for him. nothing I could do about his arm though

species: coalossal

ability: steam engine

item: heavy-duty boots

moves: flamethrower, power gem, body press, iron defense

a coal pokemon named after corel seemed like an obvious choice, given its coal mining history. heavy-duty boots because we follow workplace health and safety standards in this household.

the rest of the set isn't all that exciting. flamethrower because of... yknow. and body press and iron defense more generally feature because of how tanky barret is

species: octillery

ability: moody

item: assault vest

moves: fire blast, octazooka, flash cannon, charge beam

dyne the octillery features as one of the vaguely gun-shaped pokemon.

I gave him the moody ability because he acts pretty erratically, especially in rebirth. all of his moves are also vaguely gun-shaped. charge beam specifically because he uses electrical mines in his rebirth fight.

species: kangaskhan

ability: scrappy

item: protective pads

moves: fake out, return, low kick, safeguard

barret is such a dad that we have to represent his relationship with marlene with kangaskhan. she gets the protective pads to help keep her safe :)

return because she loves her dad a lot. low kick because she's tiny and low to the ground I guess lmao. and safeguard because again barret just wants to keep her safe

species: avalugg

ability: own tempo

item: rocky helmet

moves: avalanche, take down, stomping tantrum, recover

I mean how could I not?

own tempo ability because terrorists tend to go against the grain a bit. in addition, barret's particular avalanche cell is doing their own thing separately from the rest of avalanche.

avalanche as the first move... again how could I not? take down because we're stickin it to shinra. and stomping tantrum represents barret's temper.

species: magmortar

ability: vital spirit

item: heat rock

moves: fire blast, focus blast, solar beam, sunny day

catastrophe is barret's ultimate limit break. this calls for another vaguely gun-shaped pokemon!

again, barret is rather spirited, so ability is vital spirit.

fire blast and focus blast are explosion-shaped moves. solar beam in particular was chosen because catastrophe really is just kind of a giant laser

species: ting-lu

ability: vessel of ruin

item: assault vest

moves: lash out, earthquake, payback, ruination

I wanted to continue with giving everybody one legendary, mythical, or ultra beast, but I actually had a pretty tough time landing on one for barret. I'm still not super happy with it, but I decided to go with the angle of how barret's actions against shinra are in large part motivated by revenge. the treasures of ruin seemed like decent options for that since they're embodiments of negative emotions. while wo-chien represents grudges, I thought ting-lu was more fitting as a ground-type given barret's previous occupation. I named it angermax after another of barret's limit breaks (and one that, under certain conditions, is actually stronger than catastrophe).

the moves lash out and payback both reflect barret's motivations against shinra. ruination of shinra is of course his ultimate goal.

don't know if anyone will actually be interested enough to follow these, but I'll do one for tifa next. you can find the one I did for cloud here

[bubacorn]

What if I asked you for your nd vessels hc's?

This is a photo of my brain worm, btw♡

Oh, gods, they are so scattered in my brain and I feel like I forgot most of them, but here's a few that come to mind right now:

rsd hits Vessel and III hard. Vessel shuts down and stops talking, and can take the wrong wording and tone really seriously, so it can happen that the others just worded something wrong when they weren't paying that much attention and Vessel thinks that he did something wrong. III sometimes feels that he is a bother and tries pulling away, then feels guilty for doing that and needs a lot of reassurance that he's not too much

my autistic!Vessel hc is that he can cook, but likes baking more. if he does cook, he needs straightforward instructions and when the others start throwing around 'pinch'es and 'some's, he quickly gives up and leaves it to them. maybe he gets a little sensitive about it and lets them cook most of the time, so they can season to their taste, but they try to transcribe their recipes so he can follow written measurements

at one point I was like: I bet Vessel has really bad misophonia, then I remembered Vore, so that hc is standing on a shaky foundation

plushies!!! the manor is a plushie household. I would say all of them have their own favorites that they squish/hug when watching TV or rub when in need of stimulation/soothing

II needs his spaces organized, otherwise he can't think. he's prone to taking on too much and getting intense anxiety/panic attacks from task-overwhelm and the others constantly have to gently remind him to take it easy

III has a bunch of fidget toys and rings he spins on his fingers (definitely not borrowed from Vessel. he also plays with the ones on Vessel's fingers, too, if they sit together)

Vessel is really good at pattern-recognition, and loves symmetry in most things. tapping fingers has to be to a certain rhythm and it has to be repeated an exact number of times or else it's off

III gets attached to objects, mostly things he found (cool stones and stuff) and gifts from the others

II taps his foot and plays an imaginary double bass sometimes

IV loves to-do lists and having tasks organized. it keeps his anxiety at bay, because it minimizes the chance that he forgot something

Vessel and IV like shopping the least out of the four. Vessel gets overwhelmed by choices and people, and feels anxious about lingering in the store, because he feels that he's in the way/looks weird. IV wears noise-cancelling headphones most times and gives Ves the shopping list so he can focus on that and they can get it done quickly. also they all encourage each other to get little treats and buy food if they get hungry, so no one is grouchy on the way home/if they still have to cook

also, shopping trip panic attacks mean at least one person goes to the car with the one panicking, and the others finish. if it's the two of them, they abandon shopping to make sure the other is okay. comfort and safety first. shopping can wait. there's no snapping/being annoyed about having to go back some other time

this became a bit rambly, sorry about that. I don't really hc specific conditions/disorders, rather symptoms, I guess and it seems most of the time I let my brain sneak in stuff unconsciously into my writing that I realize while editing/rereading and go 'wait a minute'

what if we kissed. and we were both worms on strings. *smooches you for this ask* 💖

[that-gay-jedi]

I'm honestly so glad we exist in a world where no matter how much you know, you still don't know a goddamn thing.

Like, there are people out there who know so fucking much about just... antique vases. They can name every fashion trend in home decor and tableware from the ancient world to like 2010, tell you about the new techniques and manufacturing processes and even the political/historical shifts associated with each style of vase, and idk like probably discern an original from a fake by blowing into it to the tune of "This Old Man."

And I don't even realize there's all this stuff out there to know about vases, let alone real people who know it, until I scratch the metaphorical surface with my pinkie nail while scrolling. Today I was looking for some neat/weird pottery to use as offering vessels on my newly expanded altar and randomly learned the names of about 3 different styles of early 20th century vases and through that tiny scratch on the surface I could see a whole other world I'm not part of.

And the reason why this is so cool is because if I'm never finished learning all there is to know and neither is anyone else, I don't have to feel like an uncultured oaf next to people who have like 4 degrees even though I have zero. Like sure I'm a total rube who only knows the pre-mammalian world through tiktaalik and anomalocaris, household names that reveal what a basic bitch I am in paleontology, but can you name this vase? Tell me which model of cellphone I'm holding just by glancing at the ports? Explain the science behind why so many metalheads also love classical music? Then we're both just pilgrims on the road, man.

[mcalhenwrites]

Cal's original fiction writing list

Rascal Rascal With a stressful job as the breadwinner of the household, Hazel unwinds at home by surrendering control to his trustworthy partner, Ferdinand. The youngest "Raston Rascal" is under pressure to follow in his father's footsteps. It includes everything from his job to his hobbies to his lifestyle choices. But when there's a new airship being built, one that the Rastons have invested in, Hazel finds a growing interest in the vessel for all the wrong reasons. Rascal Short Stories: Ravish Him Hazel Raston might have been a little drunk when he first spotted Ferdinand Aletto standing by the nearest exit of the dormitory common room. So drunk, in fact, that he snagged Sinclair’s sleeve and hissed much too loudly in his ear, “Who is he? I want to ravish him.” Specifically, Hazel wanted to rip the stranger’s buttons off his shirt with his teeth and lick his chest down to his navel until he had his cock in his mouth. Ungrateful Little Princeling The first time Hazel is ever called an Ungrateful Little Princeling. The insult follows him into adulthood, as do the unpleasant memories. Eda, Darling After her lawyers contact Willie, Edith Anne goes home to face her future ex-husband. Woeful Spring Colds Ferdinand can always count on Hazel to take care of him when he has a cold. In turn, Hazel can count on Ferdinand to paint his ass red whenever they're no longer sick. A year spent together, as always Ferdinand and Hazel are content to spend a lifetime together - even other lifetimes, if permitted. A collection of monthly prompt oneshots from Year of the OTP. all to see you smile Hazel/Ferdinand consensual whipping boy AU. Seasons Seasons Howie Liddell and his siblings are born from wishes their father made during different seasons. But as the years pass, and Howie realizes no one in his family is aging, questions arise. It has been almost two centuries since Howie was born from the first fallen leaf of autumn. His fathers continue to raise Howie and his brothers as if they were small children. When a strange woman starts to appear, mysteries about their past begin coming to light. Seasons Short Stories: Summer in Snow The cruel words and treatment chase Shannon away from home, but the person who mistreats him is the one to bring him back when he runs. Stolen Summer Songs Human babies aren't usually born from cicada shells, but this child isn't human. There are no guides for how to parent a Season, and the fathers are left to wonder exactly how to keep their child alive. The Unfinished Gift We know about the rattan cane. We’ve seen it several times. He’s threatened us numerous times with it, fetching it on occasion to send it whooshing down through air. Something to give us a sense of the impact it would have on our hides were it to land. It is always returned to the umbrella stand afterward. I don’t think he plans to wag it around as a warning this time. Summer's Storm Despair sweeps through me like howling wind. My arms ache as if fighting against the gale, and only then do I realize it’s not an emotion but a physical sensation against my skin. My magic has responded to my grief. Above me, storm clouds brew. The village boys glance up, appalled by the sudden change in the weather. They yell at one another. I can’t make out their words. Only their sense of panic. How to Love When he's little, his parents mean the world to him.But he doesn't mean the world to them.

Geckos, Automata Short Stories: Dancing Bones A glimpse into Julian's growing relationship with necromancy in his youth. Don't Julian's pleas are always silent, but one day, a stranger speaks up for him and says the words he can't. Stand-alone Short Stories: Umbrella Spider A spider with umbrellas for legs helps the local humans stay dry in bad weather, but they aren't always so kind to him. Train Cats A city with a unique tourist attraction: giant cats roam freely, and the citizens accommodate them. The Sky Market A grandmother falls in love with the woman selling crafts. Sanctuary A group of werewolves takes in and raises an abused little girl. Mish's Dolls Every doll Mish crochets and adds a heart to comes alive. Bridge of Affinity Two young girls - one a monster and the other a human - bond over their shared love of stationary and cats. Audra Grief can be consuming, but it helps when you're visited by a cat who can heal people's hearts.

[gogglemouse]

"Ulysses"

"It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. I cannot rest from travel; I will drink Life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades Vext the dim sea. I am become a name; For always roaming with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known—cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but honored of them all,— And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains; but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the scepter and the isle, Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill This labor, by slow prudence to make mild A rugged people, and through soft degrees Subdue them to the useful and the good. Most blameless is he, centered in the sphere Of common duties, decent not to fail In offices of tenderness, and pay Meet adoration to my household gods, When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail; There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners, Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me, That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old; Old age hath yet his honor and his toil. Death closes all; but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with gods. The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are, One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." -Alfred, Lord Tennyson

[starry-blue-echoes]

Further Thoughts inspired by the spacesuit horror comic (and a lil by the rest of the guy's gallery frankly)

So. The pillarmen.

A lot of stuff about them is vague and idk exactly what I'm remembering wrong or whatever, but!

From what I recall Kars and Esidisi used the masks to elevate themselves above other pillarmen, created masks for other creatures like humans and horses along the way, and the long term project was the perfect mask to make them the ultimate lifeform.

I wonder how much control they had over those manipulations of their biology, when they mutated themselves thus.

The form Esidisi takes after Joseph initially beats him- nothing but a nervous system with maybe a few blood vessels - he must have known he could do that, by how seamlessly he was able to hide, to possess Suzie.

Was that knowledge because he and Kars had planned it, had gone through the cold calculations of survival, deciding what parts of him to reinforce the best against hamon, even knowing it might be excruciatingly painful, not quite sure how well he could recover if he was reduced to such a state -

Was that knowledge from experience, from Kars thinking he'd died before, cornered by hamon users, all his flesh burning away bit by bit- perhaps a battle of attrition, cutting off hamon-tainted flesh again and again even as his energy to replenish it runs dry, before a final desperate attempt to peel away every inch of himself save the bare essentials so he could escape - and even then they found him - but he wove his veins and neurons into their own in an act of desperation, puppeteering them from the inside, taking advantage of the ensuing chaos to flee back to Kars before the hamon user wrests back enough control to burn him out of their body, they manage it, just shy of fast enough to kill him, he stumbles into the cave in a body ablaze and Kars rips apart the flesh to reveal his lover and Esidisi cannot move or speak for weeks, months, as he recovers, and all he can say is that he saw the sun through the hamon user's eyes and it was beautiful -

And in the end it happens (again) it comes to this, Esidisi stripped down to only the most essential parts of himself, knowing this time there's no way out, this time he'll burn, but he can at least give Kars, Kars who lacks this gift, this curse, to survive after your flesh burns away, the chance to see the sun -

(and Kars gets a gift/curse of his own, to achieve everything he'd ever wanted but incapable of appreciating it and utterly alone, unable to ever die-)

I wonder how vampires/pillarmen might respond to ionizing radiation besides UV, since it never comes up in cannon. I mean, most likely it'd burn the same as UV if not worse, but -

Would even touches of it poison them? What if it didn't kill outright? What if it disabled or weakened their healing factor? What if it only seemed that way because the healing factor was entirely absorbed healing the radiation damage, until suddenly, perhaps even well after the exposure, it gives out entirely, and they rot from the inside out. Radiation can cause cancer too- and with a healing factor like that, so many rapidly dividing cells... Perhaps with other parts of them giving in, the careful guiding hand of that healing factor falls apart and that turbocharged flesh bubbles with tumors like a pot of water at boil.

(I do have an oc with a radiation based stand but uhhh they're not super fleshed out and explaining enough about their world to explain even the basics of who they are and the symbolism in their stand would be. So much.)

... I'm in a very Horror mood today.

HEHEHEHEHEHEHHE YESYESYESYESYEYS

we love spooky horror shit in this household <33333