#Beatrice who?

[ygsunflower]

I see too much of this Rebecca nonsense floating around… so I am here to say:

JUSTICE FOR SALLY! 👊🏼👊🏼👊🏼

[jerrycummblr]

It's really simple. If you're born with a vagina and you naturally have elevated testosterone levels, you're a man. If you have a vagina and you take testosterone, you're a woman. But also if you have a vagina, you'll never be a man. But also if you have higher testosterone then you were never a woman. Woman never yes man a vagina testosterone no was an elevated. Vagina man.

[roseofcards90]

[davidtennantedits]

Catherine Tate and David Tennant in Wyndham's Theatre's Much Ado About Nothing (2011) Doctor Who 60th Anniversary's Wild Blue Yonder (2023)

[bethanydelleman]

I was talking about a historical male author I dislike because I found his works misogynistic and the person said, "Oh, well I suppose you don't read Shakespeare either." and I was like, "Shakespeare? SHAKESPEARE?!?! Of course I read Shakespeare, that man loved women."

Shakespeare wrote a wide variety of fleshed out female characters. He wrote Damsels in Distress, Cross-dressing Girlbosses, and Complex Female Villains. He wrote a woman who refused to sell her virtue to save her family and then shamed her brother for suggesting it. He wrote Taming of the Shrew and it's opposite, All's Well that Ends Well, in which the wife hunts down and tames the husband. He wrote men who are good because they listen to, trust, and defend women. He wrote women of all kinds. He wrote women who drive the plot and women doomed by the narrative. He wrote women in love and women who pathetically follow a man who doesn't like them and women in hatred. He wrote sensible women and silly women and everything in between of all ages.

I wish modern authors could write women as well as he did.

[thepersonperson]

Sukuna is Peak Gap Moe. I’ll never be over this. This bastard talks tough, eats people, and kills like a woodchipper and yet…he is a poetic little sap. Getting mad over an improper haikus, the misidentification of flowers…and confessing his feelings to Gojo Satoru under several layers of wordplay no one except those well-versed in ancient Japanese would catch.

I've been over this in greater detail in Sukuna's Negative Rizz, but @tangsakura added more context in the replies to that post, making Sukuna's use of 凡夫 (bonpu) for Gojo even gayer.

In summary, 凡夫 (bonpu) can be translated as painfully ordinary or unenlightened. But in the individual kanji readings, 凡 is mediocre and 夫 is husband. You could read this as Sukuna calling Gojo his mediocre husband. And that's just the modern readings! The ancient readings...

So you can read this line from Sukuna as the following:

“You were born in an era without me and hailed as 'The Strongest'

1) And yet you turned out to be…painfully ordinary.”

2) And yet you turned out to be…unenlightened.”

3) And yet you turned out to be…a mediocre husband/wife/spouse.”

4) And yet you turned out to be…the ordinary one who could stand by my side.”

Sukuna seems to be saying these things all at once. (It’s no different than the Megumi Activities wordplay he uses with Enchain. Alt. link if the Twitter dies.) Gojo apparently makes him feel very conflicted. He’s boring, he can do better, he shouldn’t even call himself the Honored One, he’s his equal, they’re married. The irony here is that no one except Sukuna can understand this.

[llamahearted]

they were playing & milly had been planning to lean in and catch her priest man off guard with some joke, but. well. now she's forgotten whatever-it-was she was gonna say

[aq2003]

david tennant and catherine tate have the range

[dragonroilz]

meet the female engineer! she's part of the conagher family, though not as involved in the kind of engineering that her uncle and great uncle were in. despite being a very gifted mechanic, she preferred more domestic endeavours like tuning cars and air conditioning units. however, the promise of wads of cash and possibly seeing her cousin Dell made her conagher DNA jump into high gear upon seeing the blueprints for the sentries for the first time.

the first question people often ask her is, "why the turtleneck?". the response from a less-than-human sounding voice often answers the question. thanks to an unfortunate "accident" she had her head lobbed from her shoulders and reattached. of course, such endeavors would be less than ideal for the normal person, but the engineer is known for her amazing inventions and with help from the medic she surgically reattached it. allegedly, not to her original body. at the very least, her back pain inexplicably went away after this incident. nervous system failure perhaps?

[liridi]

Happy October! 🌰🍁🍂🥮

[tatennant]

“Benedick and Beatrice are similar to the Doctor and Donna in some ways.” — Catherine Tate

[responsetoloneliness]

anyone else think this looks exactly like avatrice???

[loveinstreams]

benedick kissing beatrice’s hand 🤝 fourteenth kissing donna’s hand

[mayasaura]

In canto ix (9) of dante's inferno (the same canto where we encounter alecto) an angel appears while Dante is loitering outside the City of Dis (whose gates were marred in the harrowing of hell) to swipe its holy clearance passto let Dante into the Sixth circle.

Which is to say: If Dulcinea appears to help Harrow out in the Harrow in Hell portion of alecto the ninth I am going to lose what few shits I still have

[smolsawyer]

Warrior Nun - Avatrice Ava and Beatrice before and after falling in love

A huge thanks to @raven618 for helping me figure out the scenes ❤️

[jumbleddufus]

I swear it's always "I love you so much!" but never

"I will love you with no regard to the actions of our enemies or the jealousies of actors. I will love you with no regard to the outrage of certain parents or the boredom of certain friends. I will love you no matter what is served in the world's cafeterias or what game is played at each and every recess. I will love you no matter how many fire drills we are all forced to endure, and no matter what is drawn upon the blackboard in a blurring, boring chalk. I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to divide fractions, and no matter how difficult is it to memorize the periodic table. I will love you no matter what your locker combination was, or how you decide to spend your time during study hall. I will love you no matter how your soccer team performed in the tournament or how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform.

I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you next Tuesday. I will love you if you cut your hair and I will love you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if abandon your baticeering and I will love you if you retire from the theatre to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. I will love you as the pesto loves the fettuccini and and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, as the tempura loves the the ikura and the pepperoni loves the pizza. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer.

I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness of the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written.

I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm wale loves the flavor of naval uniforms.

I will love you as a child loves to overhear the conversations of their parents, and the parents love the sound of their own arguing voices, and as the pen loves to write down the words these voices utter in a notebook for safe keeping.

I will love you as a shingle loves falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin, and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of roasting a turkey. I will love you as an airplane loves to fall from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanism. I will love you as a wet paper towel loves to be crumpled into a ball and thrown at a bathroom ceiling and an eraser loves to leave dust in the hairdos of the people who talk too much. I will love you as a cufflink loves to drop from its shirt and explore the party for itself and as a pair of white gloves loves to slip delicately into the punchbowl. I will love you as a taxi loves the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library loves the patient tick of a clock. I will love you as a thief loves a gallery, and as a crow loves murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. I will love you as a battlefield loves young men and as peppermints love your allergies, and I will love you as the banana peel loves the shoe of a man who was just struck by a falling shingle off a house.

I will love you as a volunteer fire department loves rushing into burning buildings and as burning buildings love to chase them back out, and as a parachute loves to leave a blimp, and as a blimp loves to chase after it.

I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person's back, and as a certain person loves to wear dagger proof tunics, and as a dagger proof tunic loves to go to a certain dry cleaning facility, and how a certain employee of a dry cleaning facility loves to stay up late with a pair binoculars, watching a dagger factory for hours in the hopes of catching a burglar, and as a burglar loves sneaking up behind people with binoculars, suddenly realizing that she has left her dagger at home.

I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as a noise of a glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping out into the world.

I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. I will love you until every fire is extinguished and until every home is rebuilt from the handsomest and most susceptible of woods, and until every criminal is handcuffed by the laziest policeman. I will love you until M. hates snakes and J. hates grammar, and I will love you until C. realizes that S. is not worthy of his love and N. realizes he is not worthy of V. I will love you until the bird hates the nest and the worm hates the apple, and until the apple hates the tree and the tree hates the nest, although honestly, I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try.

I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and that long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you as the chances of us running into each other slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by a distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don't see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me, happens to you as I am discovering this. I will love you if you don't marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else—your co-star perhaps, or Y., or even Q. or anyone Z. through A., even R. although sadly I think it will be quite some time before two woman can be allowed to marry—and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, and I will love you if you never marry at all and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned.

That Beatrice, is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way. Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope."