#to have been born in the wrong generation

[kerosene-in-a-blender]

One thing about Orym saying that he can't put down the lens he sees the world with is that he's completely correct, he's always going to be viewing the moon plot and the conflict with the Ruby Vanguard from the perspective of "a guy whose husband and father were murdered by the Vanguard", but the same could be said about the rest of the party. They all have pre-existing experiences and attitudes that have shaped their perspective on things. Orym isn't uniquely biased in this sense.

The most obvious one is of course Imogen, as her long-absent mother is a Vanguard general. She heard Liliana's voice in her Ruidusborn nightmares telling her to run as long as she had those nightmares, and she came to associate that with her mother trying to protect her from whatever the red storm was. It resulted in Imogen giving a lot of grace to Liliana once she found out she was alive and with the Vanguard, a grace that more recent experiences are now making Imogen start to believe was misplaced, but a grace that was born over what she considered her mother's voice to be for years.

Fearne was raised in relative isolation in the Feywild by Nana Morri, and as result her approach to a lot of the events she's now embroiled in has an oddly naive slant to it. The whole would is new to her and she's approaching it like someone who is new to it; there's a lack of understanding of implications that she has that goes beyond her simply being fey. This is best seen in how she's grappling with the reveal that Sorrowlord Zathuda is her biological father. She's aware that Zathuda is terrible and that the circumstances that led up to her birth are dubious but there's also a large part of her that desires a connection with him as her parent and feels like they could have a relationship. She's naive to what exactly she is to him, and also influenced by having grown up longing for the parents that left her with Morri.

Ashton lost their parents and found themself blown halfway across the world after a cult ritual went wrong, and had a spectacularly shitty life that he often found himself begging the gods to fix without answer, and as a result he's very down on the idea of gods and even more down on the idea of letting a cult do whatever they want in order to achieve the perfect world that is just beyond reach by whatever means they must. Especially after the entire shard debacle in which Ashton learned that their parents were definitely wrong to do what they did and there were no good ends for the means that they engaged in he's fallen even harder onto the line of, as he said himself, "I hope her ends are fucking great because these means are just not forgivable."

Laudna's sole experience with anything resembling a higher power for much of her 50-odd-years of life has been Delilah Briarwood, the woman who had her horrifically murdered and is still rather explicitly using her as a means to some unknowable-to-Laudna end. This has both made her one of the members of Bells Hells most open to the idea of there being no gods (no more puppet masters) but also the most broadly sympathetic towards Liliana's view of the Ruidusborn (that they are creations of Predathos with no choice but to be slaves to his whims). Her ardent belief that her lift ended on the Sun Tree thirty years ago also means that she often refuses to advocate for herself or her own needs, resulting in moments where she openly wonders if it's Imogen's destiny to join the Vanguard, despite having herself been at one point brutally murdered by a Vanguard general.

FCG made it his mission in life to help people; that desire drove a lot of what he did up to and including his final act of sacrifice for the Hells. They saw the people struggling against the Vanguard and with the world that the Vanguard created and chose to do what they could to help them. Their desire to help even extended towards the gods, as one of the first things they asked of the Changbringer upon gaining the ability to cast Commune was, "Do you need help?". FCG was also a character driven by a desperate desire to find purpose and to understand the "why" of their own existence, a desire that ultimately drove them towards religion as a means of shaping the meaning of his life, and made him the most openly religious member of the group up to the moment of his death.

Chetney, while the most able to look beyond his own biases by virtue of being the oldest and most emotionally mature member of the party, still carries with him the perspective of having been someone who ultimately made little impact on the world up until, in his twilight years, random chance granted him the power to affect change. He gained lycanthrophy, he met other adventurers in the Hells, and got caught up in an end of the world plot and is finally making a true difference in the world. It's made him, arguably, the most enthusiastic adventurer in the party because he views that adventure itself as a gift, and as a way to create a legacy. The desire of legacy is also the reason he made the bargain that he did with Nana Morri; to secure a legacy as a famous toymaker that would persist after he is gone.

Orym's right that he's biased, but it's fallacious to assume that an unbiased perspective exists, because everyone in the story has their lens through which they view the world that they can't put down, not just Orym.

[paymechildsupport]

Divine. // Heian Sukuna x M!Reader <3

smut brainrot :( -!! Overstim, - oral, - sex with a lot of feewings, - monsterfucking (he has 2 cocks), - tadbit body horror possibly --------------------------------------------------

aghjakhg he's so.. :3

------------------

Sukuna couldn't quite believe it: your hands, so soft, were gently running themselves over his chest.

"What are you...?" The words clogged in his throat, feeling you start to trace down.

You shifted in his lap, alone with him and solely him, -- under the dark awning of the night. No one would come to look for the two of you, not now, when it was so late out.

You could barely see the massive body in front of you, -- so you felt him. You ran your fingers over the expanse of his chest, his shoulders, his four arms, - mapping a general shape in your mind's eye. You couldn't see but you could see him, -- see him in a way no had before.

Air eluded itself from his lungs and he shuttered involuntarily. He had never been touched, been held like this, handled so tenderly. Fingers, miniscule compared to his massive figure, grazed over the markings etched onto his skin. You could faintly feel yourself touch over a scar, a raised, rough mark on his perfect body. It only made you sink deeper into him, his loose embrace of his arm around your waist. Your fingertips sketch the defined muscle, feeling every dip of skin and flesh, -- living proof of the decades of hard, grueling work engrained into his abdomen. His abs slightly flex when you run over them, you can feel the strong muscles ripple with each sharp intake of breath.

You reach the curve of his second mouth, running your thumb over the thin lip in his stomach.

"Careful..." he mutters. The last time someone had gotten so close to that area, it hadn't ended well for him. Sukuna could briefly picture his mangled skeleton, twisted and bent at all the wrong angles.

The Curse was in awe, how you effortlessly touched over his body, hardened by the decades of war and bloodshed it had borne witness to.

A noise involuntarily ripped itself from his lips, - the broken sound of a tiny, cornered animal. He had never in his life been touched in such a way, -- revered almost.

You reach back up, fingers dancing along his skin, tracing every line of those inky black markings. Sukuna realizes too late when you reach for his neck, pausing there, to rub the place where his pulse was. The blood rushed underneath your touch, rapid and humming and alive. It was such a vulnerable spot for him, but Sukuna stays frozen, rooted to his spot, so you don't stop. You travel up, all the way up to his face, where they lingered over his jaw. You press the pads of your fingers into the hard bones of his face, feeling along his jaw, his chin, and the jutting outline of his nose.

In his long lifetime most had shunned him: turning on him with huge swords and fearful expressions. But with you, he no longer was the ghastly monster, he just simply was.

"Beautiful...." You breathe

Sukuna's own breath faltered,

"You think I'm beautiful?" He sounded surprise, unsure, -- a kind of insecurity that should have terrified him, -- but it was with you, and he embraced this vulnerable state.

You smile softly, only Sukuna with his cursed vision could make the shape out in the dark,

"Very."

Sukuna wanted to lick the worship off your lips.

The lower arms on your abdomen tighten.

Silently, your fingers meet the rough start of his second face. You freeze, feeling the harsh change in texture from his smooth skin. Sukuna hesitates; would this be where it all came to an end? When you look at him with anything but deep adoration? Where the affectionate touches would be met with violent resistance, and you'd hate him, find him to be the grotesque and horrifying monster everyone else did?

Sukuna hated himself for feeling so hopeful.

But you simply start your exploration again, fingers travelling up and down the rough expanse of melded flesh.

"Fascinating.."

Sukuna was surprised; you found his second face fascinating.

He waited for the moment you'd change your mind, stop lying to yourself, start spitting crude insults and accusatory words, to swear, to hit, to resist him in some way.

But it never came.

You trace the rough folds of his face with a caress nothing short of adoring.

For the longest time, he had been denied this.

Sukuna's eyes were closed now. He couldn't comprehend the mixture of emotions he was feeling in this moment.

He was completely exposed, vulnerable... beautiful...

His second face... usually filled with terror... was receiving such tender care.

His thumbs trace to the hem of your top, gently pressing down into the soft skin, rubbing what he hoped were affectionate caresses. No one had ever made him feel such a way before, and he wished to show you the same affection, the same adoration, as you showered onto him. He had to admit he was quite inexperienced-- making contact with another living thing usually had some violent motive, but all Sukuna desired to do was wrap his arms around your tinier body -- shield you from the rest of the world. The idea of anyone else getting this kind of attention from you filled him with a strange bitterness unknown to him: jealousy.

He could feel every tiny detail of your movements, every inch of you getting slowly leaning in closer, every carefree intake of breath. He felt envious of the way the oxygen so effortlessly entered your lungs, how you inhale it without a second thought. It would be so easy for him to simply reach out and crush your windpipe, steal the air from your lungs the same way you did his.

In this moment, he saw and felt it all. Every inch of your body was beautiful to him.

"Mmm..." he whispered, relishing in the feeling of your presence so close to him.

Carefully, tentatively, you dip your head down, bringing your face closer, lips softly grazing his cheek.

Sukuna almost choked.

The feeling of your lips on his cheek sent chills through his body. He had always seen himself as the menacing and terrifying harbinger of suffering who had to be kept at a distance.

But now, he was seeing from your view... And from your perspective, he was beautiful.

His heart pounded against his chest as he felt your breath on his cheek.

Then you kiss him;

Every muscle, every tendon of his body seemed to tighten, and you were surprised they didn't just snap altogether.

All kinds of new, delicious sensations coursed through him,

Mwa :3

He had spent countless years of his life slaughtering people and taking control of everything he could... But here, he was weak again, like a newborn child.

He felt his breath grow short, labored, completely lost in the sensations of the kiss. All his fears and regrets, all the pain and misery accumulated from his years of cursed isolation, separated from the world around him, becoming the untouchable King of Curses, -- It all melted away. It was pure, unadulterated bliss.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, pressing you against him. Having you so close, you seemed so delicate to him, yet you were exploring him without hesitation, without fear, the first person he had encountered in so many years who didn't think of him as a monster.

His muscles were completely tense, but he had no desire to stop. He was enjoying every second of it.

You were kissing him, and he felt your tongue peek out from your intertwined lips, slipping into his mouth and meeting his. You fit so nicely against him, his hands slotting perfectly onto your waist, hips fitting like two puzzle pieces. It was all so... soothing to him.

The way you were taking control was indescribable--your kisses making his heartbeat so fast he swore it would explode, his breath was fast and short. He didn't think he could keep these feelings in for long without combusting altogether.

You pull away, gasping for air (unlike Sukuna, who as a curse, if he could have his way, would have kissed you for hours, days even).

"Your touch is.... divine"

Sukuna could bathe in the way you gazed at him, the way your eyelids drooped, the way your bright irises shone up at him through your lashes. Many once eerie, cold maroon eyes met yours with enough loving reverence to shake Heaven Herself.

As the word left his lips, he was staring at you. The look on his face was one of utter contentment and happiness.

You had kissed him so delicately, so tenderly. He felt every sensation burn itself into his mind, desperately grasping to remember the way your lips felt on his.

His grip on you was gentle and cautious. He didn't want to crush you. You were so small and slender. Such a frail and delicate human in his grasp. Yet the same, you were something else, something he had never experienced before.

You wanted something so intimate with him. It had Sukuna spiraling deeper and deeper into a side he had long since forgotten about. He felt frail, weak... human, -- yet Sukuna couldn't find it within himself to care. The rush of sensations and emotions he felt from your contact, from your kisses and the way you touched him, -- It was intoxicating.

He wanted you, every single part of you...

No matter what.

---

You laid with him that night, and he took you-- right on the dirt ground beneath a sky of stars. Sukuna reveled in the way your body writhed underneath him, such a beautiful, fiery creature.

He bent down, placing a gentle, loving kiss to your forehead, licking the salty sheen of sweat from your skin. You shudder, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as another hot lick of pleasure curdles through you, searing white.

He couldn't get enough of you, decades of societal neglect and the absence of human companionship had starved Sukuna, and you were a whole feast. He ravished your body, the carnal hunger never satiated until he filled you with his full.

You clung desperately to his strong forearms, nails digging into the firm muscle. Incoherent babblings cascaded from your lips which he dipped down to hungrily lap up as you mewled underneath him. He'd crash his lips onto yours, the sweetness almost lost from the first time, -- drowned in the desperate need of the kiss.

Two large hands held you steady, keeping your legs apart and waist in place as Sukuna continued his rolling thrusts into your lower abdomen. Every snap of his hips against yours sent another coil of pleasure curling in your stomach.

Puddles of his seed bubbled from your opening, leaking through the small crevices and corners from where his massive cocks somehow didn't take up. You swear you almost shatter completely the moment you feel those sharp teeth graze the walls lining your insides.

Sukuna smiles from inside of you, two long tongues lolling out to lick at the coating of your guts. He pulls out the slightest bit, just enough so a relieved smile breaks on your face. He wished there was a way to permanently engrave the moment your hopeful expression shattered into his brain-- the way your eyes widen in horror, your mouth slacked open as the two tongues bully their way between your organs. They twist, intertwining, drinking the wetness from your body dry almost, and coming to a deadly point prodding at your stomach and swirling your intestines.

You cry out, the agonizing pain clashing deliciously with the pure bliss you felt. Your mind blanks and all the colors melt together.

Everything turns molten. Sukuna reaches down between your thighs, taking you in one big hand. You choke on your own spit, coughing and spluttering, hands flying to your crotch, only to be gently swatted away. Sukuna chuckled, gently pushing your body down as your back arches.

He continues to play with you in his hand, kneading the flesh between the pads of his fingers. He runs his knuckles up and down, coating his fingers with the tears from your crying tip. He tugged you playfully, watching like an eager puppy when your relief pours into his hands, drizzling in between his fingers, squirting onto his chest, painting the black markings white.

Sukuna places two lathered fingers into his mouth, groaning from the taste of you sitting on his tongue, and he sucks down hard.

He needed you like the earth the sky's rain. You gave meaning to his long, empty, accursed life. You were forever damned to him, and Sukuna would have it no other way.

You were his god, his stars, his beauty.

And he found you absolutely ... divine.

<3

--------------------

[A/N]: the other kind of lobotomy kaisen

[tarot-archives]

Can I get a uhhhhhh laios with a guy/gn reader who has an equally autistic special interest in general biology and ecosystems that would 100% encompass monsters as well? Asking for a friend that just happens to be me (stg idk if I wanna smooch laios or be him tbh lmao)

an: though i haven’t written for an autistic yn, i’ll try to make it realistic. if i’d done something wrong, please tell me. i focused more on general dungeon ecology for y/n.

if marcille is studying about dungeon ecosystems while laios is more interested in monsters you would be the best of both worlds.

there’s just something thrilling about dungeon ecology, how it all interacts, every thing that fall under it and so on and so forth.

you’re a tall-man researcher, using every bit of your time to find out more about dungeons, and not just the ones in melini. it would have been good to join the magic academy, but since you don’t posses any talent for magic, you can’t enter.

it made you sad since they had a dungeon making class.

nevertheless, it won’t stomp your dreams of researching! you’ve read and copied countless of books you can get your hands on. eventually you settled in meleni where a newly discovered dungeon was found.

your room was filled with countless of journals, trinkets from dungeons and volumes of books you read many time before.

and on your first dungeon party, you were very ecstatic. too bad you had to leave because they’d only go to the easier upper floors. you wanted to head to the lowest level after all!

and that’s where you meet up with the touden party!

you will love marcille’s vast dungeon knowledge. she would love to teach you new things. much to chilchuck’s dismay, you have boosted her ego. endless praises for marcille and simply doting around her because she’s filled with knowledge.

“ah, long lifespans are so great. i’d spend all my life dedicating to dungeon ecology if i could” -y/n after every lecture apparently.

then monster facts with laios will be endless. he lent you his dungeon food guide and you surprisingly have a copy too! you took notes from the things he had written in the margin. much to chilchuck’s demise (again) both you and laios keep on talking and he can’t sleep :((

“eating monsters? can’t say i have thought about it, but do you ever think about their nutritional values? the high level of mana concentration must vary from non-dungeon born same species! This needed to be compared and studied!” -y/n when laios introduced his monster eating thoughts.

toshiro will have another person to ask about his life in the east. but he likes how you keep more time to yourself writing in the journals. he finds your drawing to be artistic. after seeing your difficulties with papers, toshiro will teach you about yotsume toji—a book binding process from his country. he’s happy to see you using it after he taught you.

though you won’t talk with namari much, you admire he strength as a dwarf. she keeps her past to herself, which you at least respect. but you’d talk about the different weapons used and other things she did as a blacksmith. her knowledge on materials is very handy. you write about the different dungeon materials on your journal along with the best weapons against monsters.

chilchuck, our lock expert, and the most unknown member of your party… you admire his knowledge on traps and have written about his experiences with various dungeon traps and ways of disarming them.

falin, she joins you as you ask questions to marcille or laios. she listens to you talk about your dungeon experiences and she tells you about her’s. you let her read the journals you made along the way.

On the day falin was eaten by the dragon, your journal wasn’t transported with you. So now, you join laios to rescue his sister and to save you journals!!

Request? Open!

[cyanidas]

🃏 Kokichi Ouma Age-up Timeline 🍇

Here, I've used his initial designs as inspiration! I like looking back at older designs cause for a lot of them, it's like watching them grow up!

Headcanons under cut (HUUUGE SPOILER WARNING FOR DRV3)

(Content Warning for child abuse, mental illness and disorder, self harm, generally dark and unsettling topics ahead)

-=-

First off, I'm firm in my take that Tsumugi was lying about everyone being fictional. There's a lot that doesn't match up, and the local V3 fandom celebrity responsible for the Amalgamate fic has helped me tremendously in solidifying my stance. I think they absolutely do belong to the DR universe, but the memories they get that aren't part of their backstory are completely fabricated.

If there's any additional input on V3 in Raincode, don't let me know because I haven't played yet ;w;

That said, there's many things I, like Kokichi, will refuse to clarify or elaborate on. His character demands mystery, and it would be a trivialization of his writing to just. lay it all out there. I think approaching his writing with the mindset of knowing the whole truth would be to bastardize his integrity and simplify him in a distasteful way - so all my headcanons here will be written and are intended to be seen as broad strokes as opposed to finely tuned detail.

-=-

I like to think of his past as muddy and confusing, even to him. There's not a lot he can remember clearly, and constantly confuses different takes on his memories. To me, it's clear that lying is a huge trauma thing to him - I would assume multiple sources would be responsible, like authority, family, and peers.

He's been lying as a means of survival, with multiple layers of how he feels about it - despite what he says, there's not actually one truth. Multiple truths exist for one single thing, and I think that mindset is something that scares him tremendously - he'd probably say that reality is just a lie you tell yourself, in order to justify trivializing and minimizing both feelings/emotion and trauma.

In his head, there's so much wrong with him that he can't even begin to unravel himself and understand everything that's happened to him, why he does what he does, why he feels what he feels... so on. He feels multiple things that often contradict each other, and he doesn't know how to understand that, so he often switches his justifications to suit whatever narrative he needs to cope.

In general, however, he claims he's just lying. There are in fact, genuine times he does actually lie... but rather than being a true compulsive liar, he is actually a compulsive method actor. He's so empathetic to everything and everyone, that he can easily switch his masking techniques to suit whatever he or others need, and does so involuntarily most of the time, though he does know how to "switch it on" purposefully.

In his earlier ages, he may have suffered from a guardianship similar to what those who have DID had gone through (not me projecting lol /hj). He's been bred and born into tragedy, not unlike Komaeda but absolutely distinct from him in that I do not believe this boy has had any good luck with anything in his life - not family, not friends, not money, nothing. I might even go so far as to assume that, similar to Yasuhiro having an unnaturally high good luck, Kokichi is suffering from unnaturally high bad luck.

I noticed that, on a lot of his designs, he seems to have always had *something* covering at least one of his hands - and even on his final design, though it could just be a design fluke or something weird with perspective I misunderstood, you can see the smallest scrap of fabric underneath his right sleeve that could be seen as another hand/wrist covering. When lined up with the other designs, it could very easily be taken as a wrist bandage - at least by my eyes. So, I (and a lot of others it seems, especially those who identify with him) have taken this to mean he may in fact be self-harming, and has been for a long while. Anyone who hyperfixates on this guy wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if that turned out to be true.

I think that age 11 is probably what Kokichi himself would think of as his 'turning point', just going off of my little chart here; something tremendously awful happened to him, then. To fuel speculation and abide by his character rules, all I'm going to definitively say is... he likely wouldn't even trust doctors with a needle, let alone his life.

So, the hardest year of any modern kid's life... 12 years old. In my family especially, it's the worst year you'll ever face, and my god was that true for me. So I think this year fits him for gaining his... as the creators put it, 'otherworldly' expressive nature. This is the year he completely stops putting effort into trying to understand the truth, and fully embraces the chaos that is his reality. He's fine!!!!!! :)))))

He mellows out around 15, and I like to think of this year as his cringe-fail-iest year to date. This motherfucker would likely be seen in Hot Topic, jamming to MCR, glomping his friends, verbally roleplaying, so forth. His phone signature is a series of kaomojis. Idk if there's a similar equivalent of being a cringe baby weeb for Japanese who are my age, so I'm really just basing this on my own experience of being 15 in 2011. But whatever the equivalent is, he is absolutely it. 15 year old Kokichi is current Kokichi's most embarrassing time ever.

However, it's also likely the age he started his talent's namesake - of becoming the Ultimate Supreme Leader. Which, I choose to believe is, much like Kokichi in general, both true and false. Same for his actual group, DICE. Both is good ;o)

Following his talent, he has a natural command to his voice that feels as though you're forced to hear him speak. No one can really talk over him unless their ability to do so demands it - say for example, Sonia, the SHSL Princess. Due to the nature of their talents, I think Sonia's voice and ability to command would absolutely trump Kokichi's. However, due to the aforementioned bad luck, people are compelled to not trust him - even if what he's saying is true. (Kokichi voice: oh pythia we're really in it now)

Also, you can't really tell because of all the scarring, but 15 and 19 are the ages where he stopped going outside so he's paler and paler, lol

And my last one, I love to imagine that due to his talent, he's actually intensely adept at fighting, especially dodging. In fact, I think he's even way smarter than he'd like to believe!

[sciderman]

Sometimes i remember a comics moment i randomly came across somewhere, where Sam Wilson mentiones a musical and Steve Rodgers says he doesn't like musicals, to whitch Sam goes "Guess that means you really are straight" and even tho i don't care about Cap America or the Avengers, the moment stuck in me for that quote by Sam. And like....Sci, any ideas if straight men actually don't like musicals or is that bullshit?

actually i think i know more gay men who hate musicals than i know straight men who hate musicals. i've had a drag queen stop me point blank when i was about to sing a barbra streisand song, and i know so many gays who pointedly hate abba. so based on my experience i think the inverse is true. most of the straight men i know are kind of impartial about musicals, but gay men? hate.

my theory is that a lot of gay men don't want to fall into stereotypes, maybe. but thaaaaat's just a theory! a gay theory.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i don't even like video games so why have i been playing Red Dead 2 for the past eight hours gay

[terrainofheartfelt]

Blair Waldorf + Dance Fever (25/?)

[hotsugarbyglassanimals]

honestly the loneliness i carried with me from age 11-12 is something i don't think i'll ever be able to forget

[postmariannizm]

I need to get my life together and if this means I will have to start making a fucking morning routine I will start making a fucking morning routine

[rosesradio]

i saw a post on this webbed site that was dated back to June 2014 that said that nico should forget about Percy and hook up with Jason, Leo, and Frank out of spite…that was four months before blood of olympus dropped…i’m gnawing on couch cushions rn what i would have given to be on tumblr dot com at that time

[marklikely]

functionally zero difference between dudebros who get angry at a teenage girl for wearing a nirvana t shirt and tumblrinas having a meltdown that an extremely popular kate bush song was used in a tv show

[weimitsu]

Love being an artist bc i can just draw silly little snippets of things without having to justify them as a detailed story w consequences or i would go insane

[pub-lius]

i need someone to explain why my mom is further into and more emotionally invested in song of achilles than me. like who’s the gay one here 🤨

[anarchofairy]

kinda starting to feel like my anxiety is some sort of spiritual problem rather than a mental health one. like i’ve been in therapy for years and the sharper edges of the disorder have been filed off, but at the core of my being there is just this fear that pervades everything. my therapist doesn’t think i’d meet the criteria for sad/gad/etc anymore, and i don’t relate to the dsm list as much as i did. but like, the fear is still there. i don’t think therapy is gonna be able to touch this one (being said with around four and a half years experience with the process and a genuinely good therapist). the fear comes from somewhere else, and it doesn’t present like a thing i can fight with my brain. the therapy helped - it really did- but i just don’t think i can find the answer in that sphere, i think it’s given me all it can for now. does anyone know what i mean?

[soybeenss]

NO STOP YOU NEED TO LISTEN

PUSSY IS TEMPORARY

TIKTAALIK IS REVOLUTIONARY

[chicago-geniza]

hey did you know that kafka's aphorisms were published in the september 1924 issue of martin buber's der jude, so three months after his death? i am reading the wsród czasopism section from a fascinating issue of nowe życie from 1924 that i ordered from an antykwariat in kraków & this blew my mind. also, how am i the target audience for a polish-language jewish arts & culture journal published in the 1920s, there was a brief biographical piece on eugeniusz zak followed by jakob appenszlak holding forth on the state of the union re: yiddish theater, a serial installment of asch's uncle moses in polish translation, an article comparing słowacki's "anhelli" with one of bialik's hebrew poems, an essay on goethe & european jewry, emanuel ringelblum on jewish warsaw...i feel almost preposterously pandered to here. there's even a peretz poem! he wrote a gawęda af yidish, & it's been translated into polish, which is a fascinating recursive experiment in "[pseudo]-national" forms & the construction of vernacular-folk story-song oral sagas as a component of linguistic nationalisms that vouch for their "authenticity" & "originality." therese belivet was flung out of space but i was flung out of my rightful place in the spacetime continuum (1920s poland)