#enfolding

[postcard-from-the-past]

Romance enfolding on a vintage postcard

[itsladykit]

Realized the other day (while listening to a podcast about a book) that writing beautifully isn't really my aim. I don't aim to be quotable. I don't aim for beautiful prose.

I want to be functional. I want the words to disappear so thoroughly that my readers can see and hear my characters. As a writer, I want to be nearly invisible.

And you know what? That realization gave me some peace and cured some of my feelings of inadequacy.

[kimbureh-but-its-only-the-art]

Medic Yesman is patiently aware of FP's poor coping mechanism whenever their brothers get hurt, but it's still difficult to tolerate a man in your lazareth who calls his nudism 'curative'. Click here for more Clones.

bonus leg:

bonus mug cuz u can barely see the good fella:

[lainalit]

Elriels thinking eluciens/gwynriels will have meltdowns If Elriel becomes canon but for me it will be just another thing that I will hate about the series

[whistlepen]

might fuck around and watch part one with the audio description on for more gems like he curls his fingers inward, softly enfolding hers because i deserve good things

[sunsetquotes]

The less I needed, the better I felt.

Charles Bukowski; Let It Enfold You

[noosphe-re]

Bohm: Now, the ordinary idea of matter is: it’s an object which exists external to other objects, passes through space continuously, goes from here to there, and connects up with other objects. Makes the whole that way. Now, to just give the idea of what I mean: I saw once on BBC television a device which I realized would be very useful for my purposes. It was made at the Royal Institution in London, and it consisted of two glass cylinders, concentric, one inside the other. The inner one was held fixed, and the outer one turned slowly, and you placed a very viscous fluid such as glycerin in between the two cylinders. Now, as you turn the outer cylinder, the glycerin on the outside is turning, the glycerin on the inside is fixed, and in between it’s moving at an intermediate rate. So if you took a small bit of glycerin it would slowly get drawn out into a thread. Is that clear?

Suzuki: No, you’ve got glycerin in your tube, in your cylinder, and then you put a drop of...

Bohm: The next stage is to put a drop of insoluble ink, which consists of particles of carbon, for example.

Suzuki: So you can see this drop suspended in the glycerin.

Bohm: And each particle of carbon is now carried along by the glycerin at the speed of the glycerin. And since the outer parts of the glycerin move faster, the particles of carbon are carried apart. Eventually they become so fine as to be invisible, right? Now, you then turn this machine around slowly, and the particles retrace their paths, and suddenly it forms a drop, again, of glycerin, right? And that actually happens. I saw this happening for the first time there when it was shown on the program.

Now, I propose now that this droplet has been folded into the glycerin, right? And it is then unfolded. Now I want to say that that sort of process helps to explain the behavior of particles. It’s only an analogy; we mustn’t take it too literally. But for example, suppose I put two droplets in, one next to or near the other, and I fold it up. Now, the particles from one droplet are going to sort of mix with the particles of the other, so they’re indistinguishable. Yet, if we turn the machine around, each particle seems to know where it must go and it goes backward to help form its own droplet again, right?

Suzuki: Now, what does that illustrate?

Bohm: Well, that illustrates a new order, because… see, if we put in a number of droplets in a row, you have an order, right? And we could pull them all up. The order seems to be absent, but it’s still present, because when you unfold it it’ll all come right out again. So I say there’s a non-manifest order. There’s an implicate, enfolded order, right?

Suzuki: Okay.

Bohm: I say that that notion of order is a different notion of order from the one which science has been using, which is the unfolded or explicate order, in which we say only things outside each other count and only external relationships of things outside each other are to be part of the fundamental laws of physics.

David Bohm, interviewed by David Suzuki, 1979 (video, transcript)

[thessaliah]

Everytime I see a “Crypters wouldn’t have made it past the Singularities!” I want to remind those people the only reason Guda does is because of Mash and Roman. 

Arcade showed us that multiple “Chaldeas” (which we don’t know where they come from) fall to Draco’s Testament World fake Singularities before she even manifested as a Beast (Draco is still a larva until Babylon chapter of Arcade, and she was probably not even that before Arcade story). If we take Merlin’s word in Camelot, those Chaldeas lack Romani Archaman (which Merlin refers the “true” Chaldea always has Roman), so even with Mash, Guda fails and dies. Kirschtaria, when he acknowledged Guda as better Master, does it calling them the “Master the Doctor raised/trained” rather than the “Master who beat Singularities and rolled dozens of waifus/husbandos.” Even after Roman died, he remains the most important foundation for Guda’s entire character arc and strength. Mirror of Lost Will and the Aphrodite’s song are highly revealing about this. Without Romani, Guda would have collapsed mentally and perish there. 

It’s highly telling how Arcade ‘Chaldea’ only could get it far by receiving the benefit of mobage Chaldea’s previous bonding with Servants except for like 3 of them (even Draco and Proto Merlin are interested on Chaldea because of mobage one). And they didn’t take an active part in besting Sodom Beast, unlike Mash’s and Guda’s confrontation with Goetia (and emotional taming of Fou), but required Arthur who leaped from another world with ferry Noah to show up and call it a day. Guda and Mash by themselves don’t seem like a winning team, IMO. That’s why the FGO premise promotion included meeting of ‘fate’ with three characters, not two.

Roman himself was influenced by their meeting as well, nobody denied that, but trying to take Guda in a vacuum is a narrative mistake. 

This is all to demonstrate that of course, Team A members on their own, without their fateful person that pushes them to reach their potential as Master would fail (unless those are Kirsch or Daybit who are cheat characters), but so would have Guda without theirs. That’s why Kadoc has a chance of victory with Lostbelt Anastasia too.

[ranticore]

I was gonna make the "you go by they/them because you're non-binary, I go by they/them because I'm multiple people" joke on your zeta post but that wouldn't really be accurate because they consider themselves one person. That being said, how do pronouns work on a pairing? Also just want to say I'm a huge fan and I'm so glad I found this sideblog after somehow not noticing it for several months, I love all your different worlds.

Oh trust me the blog is at best 1.5 months old you didn't miss much

One zeta = they/them

One kattakati zeta = also they/them

When referring to the basic concept of the pairing you can use it/its

Ultimately it's all just for my convenience because ofc their language is very different; using sign language the only pronouns they ever use are I/me and you.

[corrodedcoughin]

TW for horror ish elements but uh, AU where supernatural creatures exist and the world knows about them so they don't have to hide.

Steve is one of the prestigious Harrington Werewolves, large mansion backed onto the woods for full moons. People always respected or feared his father - a werewolf like him - and so his teachers at school would let him have the day of the full moon off. Where Steve would end up alone in his mausoleum of a house, pacing and trying not to scratch and pull at his hair or punch walls as he got more and more tense as he can start to feel the pull of the full moon. He's angry and hungry and so so lonely. He knows it would be easier with someone else there with him - with pack - werewolves are social creatures except his parents are never home, he doesn't trust Tommy or Carol not to poke and prod, and set him off in a violent rage. So he goes it alone, and it fucking sucks.

The full moon rises, he takes his clothes off, and Steve walks alone into the woods. He can feel it pulling inside him, the call of the moon or the wolf or whatever you want to fucking call it. It has gotten to the point where he can't ignore it anymore. He drops to the ground and screams. Hands grasping at the dirt beneath him, body convulsing as he changes. His bones snap. His muscles tear. Fur sprouts. His muzzle grows. It looks and feels like he is being torn apart. Steve is human and Steve is a wolf and he is both and he is neither and he can hear the moon calling and he wants to rip and tear and hunt and feed and he has no one to calm him down.

He awakens alone and naked in the middle of the woods, covered in dirt and what he hopes is dried animal blood. So he goes home, showers, crawls into bed and tries not to think about going to school tomorrow.

And then he meets Nancy and he's dating Nancy and he can feel the wolf in him getting possessive so he tries to hold back. Except he can smell her perfume from across the room and hear her heart beat all the way across school and he loves her. He wants her near, but he doesn't want to hurt her. And then Barb dies in his pool and Nancy blames them both and he can hear the rumours that he killed her and its eating himself up inside.

The Demogorgan dies and he tries to be better. Nancy says he's bullshit, their love is bullshit, and Steve can hear his own heart breaking.

Then he meets Dustin and the little shit worms his way into his heart, talking about a fucked up dog that ate his cat and asking for tips about how to talk to girls. He fights Billy and is winning until Billy fights dirty and pulls out the silver tipped knife and smashes a plate on his head. He saves their lives and can slowly feel Dustin becoming one of his. He goes round to the Henderson's place for dinner and finds that actually eating a large home cooked meal before the full moon makes the anger and the hunger not as bad. He can pick Dustin's heartbeat out of a crowded room and would recognize his scent anywhere. Steve's reluctant to mention it, maybe it's too much, but he lets it slip once and Dustin thinks it's AWESOME.

Robin starts out as just a coworker, then they get locked in a Russian base together with two kids who they both agreed to protect. And Steve gets tortured to protect Robin because he can take more hits than her. And he does and she thinks they killed him. But he's alive and they're drugged and they're in the mall spilling their guts on a bathroom floor and Steve can hear her heart rabbitting in her chest and can smell the panic rolling off her. Then he makes a joke about Tammy Thompson being a Muppet and it goes away and he knows that Robin is becoming one of his. His platonic soulmate. And she starts coming round to his place after the full moon with breakfast to share. Where she holds him and helps clean him and make sure he comes back to himself. He is not alone.

Next Dustin won't stop talking about Eddie, and Steve can feel the jealously rising in his gut like a horrid sickly thing. He knows that being a werewolf can make his emotions more intense, and he knows that Dustin still loves him but he can't help but worry that he's being replaced. Then Vecna happens and Eddie's wanted for murder and he's meeting Eddie and he can smell the sheer terror rolling off the guy. And then the confusion and relief when they believe him. Next thing they're on the lake and they're in the upside down facing down bats and Steve gives into the wolf as he bites down into it. Lets his eyes glow and his teeth sharpen as he growls when he slams that fucking bat into the ground. Then he talks with Eddie and he's actually kind of cool and really fucking pretty and Steve knows enough about his emotions to know that this could be the start of an all encompassing crush and he's trying hard not to focus on the fact that the vest smells like Eddie and therefore HE smells like Eddie.

Then they're facing Vecna and Steve can't help but extend his werewolf hearing, and he hears Dustin screaming his name, calling for him to come help, it's Eddie. So Steve fucking sprints back to the trailer as fast as he can only to find Eddie bleeding out in Dustin's arms. He knows first aid from his time as a life guard, he can hear his heart still beating, so Steve buckles down and tries to save Eddie's life.

And he does and theyre in the hospital and he's not healing the way a werewolf should and he can't help but focus on the sounds of everyone's heartbeat to ground him. Listening to the sounds of Eddie's surgery through the walls. Trying to push down the overwhelming hospital smell of blood and emotion and medicine and it's all too much and he's hurt and Eddie's hurt.

And that's all I got for right now lmao

(Sorry I keep throwing these aus at you, I don't have any Stranger Things friends and my brain will not stop throwing ideas out)

Oh my sweet christ. Listen I saw this in my inbox and KNEW it was going to be good so I saved it so I could savour every single word and fuck it was worth it

Steve so used to waking up the morning after a full moon with dried tears and dirty sheets, ready to start the clean up routine but Robin let herself and Dustin in. Both sleeping in the spare room. Robin hears Steve waking up and pads through to his room, sees the mess and goes to him, holds him. Tells him it’s okay, he’s okay. Dustin comes in with fresh sheets and kind eyes, dropping the sheets on the floor to crowd around steve. To let him feel that he’s cared for. And he does. For the first time in his life he does.

——

Steve watches Eddie in the hospital. As soon as he gets discharged Steve does a patrol of the new trailer every night. Making sure he can hear Eddie’s heartbeat, forcing himself not to climb through the window when he can hear him tossing and turning, unable to sleep. He never gets close, doesn’t watch him sleep or anything, he’s not like that, Steve just wants to protect and this is the only way he knows how without telling Eddie exactly how he feels.

It’s worse when he’s in wolf form, can feel the pull of Eddie, wants to be with him, wants to keep him safe. Steve wants to talk to Robin and Dustin about this whole body need but can’t. He can’t let them know that the wolf is winning. Can’t risk them looking at him with wary eyes. So he keeps himself quiet and he does his best to protect his friends.

That is until one full moon night one of Eddie’s ‘business meetings’ goes wrong and suddenly Hawkins own Steve Harrington is bounding through town in wolf form because Eddie is in danger.

[akkivee]

living a good kuukou life ngl lmao

[samlover4evr]

i love to make headcanons that all of my favorite characters love the same music I do so. Sam Winchester you are now a fan of emo music and especially senses fail and taking back Sunday

[gebbet]

let it enfold you

either peace or happiness, let it enfold you.

when I was a young man

I felt that these things were

dumb, unsophisticated.

I had bad blood, a twisted

mind, a precarious

upbringing.

I was hard as granite, I

leered at the

sun.

I trusted no man and

especially no

woman.

I was living a hell in

small rooms, I broke

things, smashed things,

walked through glass,

cursed.

I challenged everything,

was continually being

evicted, jailed, in and

out of fights, in and out

of my mind.

women were something

to screw and rail

at, I had no male

friends,

I changed jobs and

cities, I hated holidays,

babies, history,

newspapers, museums,

grandmothers,

marriage, movies,

spiders, garbagemen,

English accents, Spain,

France, Italy, walnuts and

the color

orange.

algebra angered me,

opera sickened me,

Charlie Chaplin was a

fake

and flowers were for

pansies.

peace and happiness to me

were signs of

inferiority,

tenants of the weak

and

addled

mind.

but as I went on with

my alley fights,

my suicidal years,

my passage through

any number of

women - it gradually

began to occur to

me

that I wasn't different

from the

others, I was the

same.

they were all fulsome

with hatred,

glossed over with petty

grievances,

the men I fought in

alleys had hearts of

stone.

everybody was nudging,

inching, cheating for

some insignificant

advantage,

the lie was the

weapon and the

plot was

empty,

darkness was the

dictator.

cautiously, I allowed

myself to feel good

at times.

I found moments of

peace in cheap

rooms

just staring at the

knobs of some

dresser

or listening to the

rain in the

dark.

the less I needed

the better I

felt.

maybe the other

life had worn me

down.

I no longer found

glamour

in topping somebody

in conversation.

or in mounting the

body of some poor

drunken female

whose life had

slipped away into

sorrow.

I could never accept

life as it was,

I could never gobble

down all its

poisons

but there were parts,

tenuous magic parts

open for the

asking.

I reformulated

I don't know when,

date, time, all

that

but the change

occurred.

something in me

relaxed, smoothed

out.

I no longer had to

prove that I was a

man,

I didn't have to prove

anything.

I began to see things:

coffee cups lined up

behind a counter in a

cafe.

or a dog walking along

a sidewalk.

or the way the mouse

on my dresser top

stopped there,

really stopped there

with its body,

its ears,

its nose,

it was fixed,

a bit of life

caught within itself

and its eyes looked

at me

and they were

beautiful.

then - it was

gone.

I began to feel good,

I began to feel good

in the worst

situations

and there were plenty

of those.

like say, the boss

behind his desk,

he is going to have

to fire me.

I've missed too many

days.

he is dressed in a

suit, necktie, glasses,

he says, "I am going

to have to let you go."

"it's all right" I tell

him.

he must do what he

must do, he has a

wife, a house, children,

expenses, most probably

a girlfriend.

I am sorry for him.

he is caught.

I walk out into the blazing

sunshine.

the whole day is

mine.

temporarily,

anyhow.

(the whole world is at the

throat of the world,

everybody feels angry,

short-changed, cheated,

everybody is despondent,

disillusioned.)

I welcomed shots of

peace, tattered shards of

happiness.

I embraced that stuff

like the hottest number,

like high heels, breasts,

singing, the

works.

(don't get me wrong,

there is such a thing as

cockeyed optimism

that overlooks all

basic problems just for

the sake of

itself -

this is a shield and a

sickness.)

the knife got near my

throat again,

I almost turned on the

gas

again

but when the good

moments arrived

again

I didn't fight them off

like an alley

adversary.

I let them take me,

I luxuriated in them,

I bade them welcome

home.

I even looked into

the mirror

once having thought

myself to be

ugly,

I now liked what

I saw, almost

handsome, yes,

a bit ripped and

ragged,

scares, lumps,

odd turns,

but all in all,

not too bad,

almost handsome,

better at least than

some of those movie

star faces

like the cheeks of

a baby's

butt.

and finally I discovered

real feelings for

others,

unheralded,

like lately,

like this morning,

as I was leaving

for the track,

I saw my wife in bed,

just the shape of

her head there, covers

pulled high, just the

shape of her

head there

(not forgetting

centuries of the living

and the dead and

the dying,

the pyramids,

Mozart dead

but his music still

there in the

room, weeds growing,

the earth turning,

the toteboard waiting for

me)

I saw the shape of my

wife's head,

she so still,

I ached for her life,

just being there

under the

covers.

I kissed her on the

forehead,

got down the stairway,

got outside,

got into my marvelous

car,

fixed the seatbelt,

backed out the

drive.

feeling warm to

the fingertips,

down to my

foot on the gas

pedal,

I entered the world

once

more,

drove down the

hill

past the houses

full and empty

of

people,

I saw the mailman,

honked,

he waved

back

at me.

c.b.

[the-owl-tree]

Wait so are you saying. Honey's anatomy is like a human crouched on all fours. Wrapped up in fur

yeah <3

[coffincutterradio]

record of the week, Senses Fail's "Let it Enfold You"