#verse (ambiguous)

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

"the news said Jefferson's victims weren't sexually assaulted" the news said the diaz brothers were heartless murderers. btw.

[ignitingthesky]

Thinking about Carpenter//Eliza (the girl hallowed by solitude) parallels again. Murdered parents, only survivor of family, having to continue alone indefinitely without having reason or purpose to that survival, wandering, wandering, wandering. Carpenter finding it difficult to connect with her peers in the reform school, with the rest of the parish because of the different way she views her faith, with everyone basically, connecting with so few and losing even those few connections anyway through various awful ways. Carpenter has been so lonely. I do love that her axe murderer arc gives her a tangible physical target to terrorise and take her helplessness out on but Eliza is still out there. and, depending on your interpretation of the ending, perhaps so is Carpenter.

[trust-my-glorious-purpose]

"They don't know you're awake yet. Stay down."

Loki had briefly started to sit up, but the harshly growled whisper to stay down kept him in his place. He was all for keeping himself alive and safe and if this man's tone was anything to go off of, it would serve him well to listen. His green eyes were focused intensely on the man next to him, "Who is 'they' and why are you helping me?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper to avoid arousing the attention of the other people in the room.

@kingcrossbones

[bellamer]

Me when I track down everyone who's even made a slightly anti black comment about Hobie's Spiderverse design:

[inexplicably-spookified]

diversity win! this witch is bi... lingual?

[rxttenfish]

MY GIRL CARPENTER IS NOT BEATING THE SLASHER VILLAIN ACCUSATIONS

[divorcemotif]

the latter part of the latest tsv remind anyone else of the premise of that one eskew episode

[coquelicoq]

In talking about Chaucer (p. 74), I said that, in general, puns and verbal connections of sound were unimportant and not to be sought out; and now, you will say, I have been using them to explain cruces in Shakespeare. Alas, you have touched on a sore point; this is one of the less reputable aspects of our national poet. A quibble is to Shakespeare [Johnson could not but confess] what luminous vapours are to the traveller; he follows it at all adventures; it is sure to lead him out of his way and sure to engulf him in the mire. It has some malignant power over his mind.... A quibble was for him the fatal Cleopatra for whom he lost the world, and was content to lose it. Nor can I hold out against the Doctor, beyond saying that life ran very high in those days, and that he does not seem to have lost the world so completely after all. It shows lack of decision and will-power, a feminine pleasure in yielding to the mesmerism of language, in getting one's way, if at all, by deceit and flattery, for a poet to be so fearfully susceptible to puns. Many of us could wish the Bard had been more manly in his literary habits, and I am afraid the Sitwells are just as bad.

William Empson, 7 Types of Ambiguity, ch 2 pp 100-101

i'm sorry this is so fucking funny. that pathetic loser shakespeare who loved puns so much it cost him everything, except of course his status as the most famous, most read, most immortal english-language author of all time. but everything else, he lost and it's all because of how weak he was to resist a pun :/ pouring one out for my sad little girly man who could have had it all if only he was better at writing, the thing he is the most famous guy in the world for.

even empson, who disagrees with johnson that shakespeare "lost the world", is like, too bad our favorite poet is susceptible to the thing that made him famous :/ really tragic that the guy whose wordplay we've been talking about for 300 years likes wordplay :///

also i can't get over writing a book about the types of ambiguity and NOT INCLUDING PUNS?? sorry but puns are ambiguous! that's where their juice comes from! imagine liking ambiguity so much you write a book about it but never mention puns except to dunk on them. imagine being a POET and POETRY CRITIC who looks down on sound-based ambiguity! could not be me!!

[poetess-trobadour]

I have seen boys that played men

And I've seen women who played along

Just to be with such boys,

And vice versa.

I think about how that's funny

In a truly heartbreaking way.

It made me make myself a promise,

A red cotton thread around my left wrist,

Where it's closer to my heart.

My promise, it says:

If I ever carry a girl into this world,

I hope I can teach her many lessons,

But above all others,

I hope I can teach her a lesson or respect.

I will teach her to respect herself enough

To never settle for a puddle

When her heart is loud and anxious with oceans.

And I will teach her to respect others

Enough to be genuine.

And if I ever carry a baby boy,

I hope I can give him plenty,

But above many things,

I hope I can give him reasons.

I will give him reasons solid enough

To withstand any storm

When his mind is shaken with quakes to the core.

And I will teach him to reason with others,

To be reliable enough.

And, as oceans and earthquakes are boundless,

I will teach him a lesson of respect;

I will give her reasons, as well.

And if they happen to live as brother and sister,

I hope that more than from me,

They will learn from each other.

Then, they will be a true power to be reckoned with —

Intertwined in their shared wisdoms,

Bearing their mother's oceans and mountains,

And their father's prairies and thunders —

Perhaps — I'm not sure yet,

Of whom or what my future holds,

Of where winds blow or which fires catch;

But while that part of it is yet mine to uncover,

I have certainty about them —

Unsinkable, unshakable —

As I know that, naturally,

They will be greater than I ever can.

Future, August 2018

[1punch]

tfw your grief is so crippling it destroys planets and stars without even caring

[despairs-memorial]

Talent swap Starter for @dead-or-lie

The sound of gunshots from the shooting range echo out through that part of the school. It was bullshit, it was always some upstart's bullshit that got him in this sort of mood, and while he would normally deal with it with a grace that was becoming of the young leader of the Oowada family, this had pushed him to the very limits of his patience, and this was the safest way he could vent without anyone getting hurt.

As the final bullet hits the target and he's about to reload, he pauses a bit, not realizing that someone was there with him. He takes a moment to just grab the next magazine to replace the one that he had been using.

"Sorry, didn' realize I had company. Ya need somethin' or ya jus' here to piss me off even more than I already am?" There's a joking tone in his voice, but with the gun in his hands, it's hard to tell if he really is or is actually pissed off.

[berylcluster]

⊰ open starter ft. JAMES HOLDEN ⊱

➫ HOLDEN thought he'd snag some time alone, defrost himself after all the tension and danger he's been subject to. Not that he didn't love his crew, they were his family now. But sometimes, even family could be a little too much, the four walls closing in on him, which he never liked. The perks of growing up on a large family farm and being an only child, he presumes. So, the ever curious captain slipped away, making his way into the shopping center, nothing in particular on his mind to get. His stomach protested that he was hungry after awhile of walking around, to which he stopped at a food stall. A few patrons outside so he figured it must have been good, gathering in line behind a few of them. "Anything good to eat here? All I've been eating are dried rations for the past few weeks, so maybe the better question is, anything besides freeze-dried food?"

[beautyisinkonpaper]

thinking about Hobie and Gwen (minor spoilers)

I keep thinking about how Gwen Stacy is a punk rock legend in Hobie's universe, to the point where Hobie refers to her as "the greatest artist of our generation"

So I'm imagining Spiderverse Gwen meeting Hobie for the first time

I'm imagining when he learned that she ran away from her father, who tried to arrest her.

I'm imagining him taking her in, without question

I'm imagining when she mentions she's a drummer in her universe

I'm imagining the first time Hobie hears Gwen play, and he just smiles

I'm imagining Hobie calls her "my drummer" all the time, affectionately (this one's just canon)

I'm imagining how Spider-Gwen reminds Hobie of his universe's Gwen

[horizon-penblade]

if anything this episode has made me realize that I mostly only don't want protocol to confirm anything about Jon and Martin.

If celia's confirmed to be from the tma universe (which she almost certainly is) or we get anya vilette lore or it turns out that all the stuff from the homophobic vase ended up here I'm goung to be over the moon

[pnthra]

leandros starter call. // @ardenssolis

" you smell divine--is that your cologne, or do you happen to sweat gold? "

usually, usually, leandros did not go out of his way to interact with just about anyone. he did not want to come off as easy, or give off the wrong impression that just anyone could step up to him. but sometimes, his feet guided him towards those who were irresistible for some reason or another.

in particular, this man smelled like honeydew and sweet nectar. the only manner of properly describing it was like scented gold, not too strong, yet still impossible to resist its glitter and shine. metaphorically, of course. he couldn't literally see smells.

leandros dipped his sunglasses low, smiling. it helped that the man was pretty. if it wasn't such poor manners, he'd already have invited himself to take a bite.

" sorry, sorry--i think before i speak too often, but i'm sure you are often approached by people with that issue. " a wink was likely overkill, and yet he did it anyways. " could i perhaps buy a moment more of your time with a drink? "

[infinitusvoces]

Open Starter (IWTV series)

Katherine Pierce lounged in a shadowy corner of the bar, her eyes scanning the room with purpose. The lighting was dim, creating deep shadows that served her purposes well. She paid no mind to the person in the corner of the space who was spouting poetry to a few other bar patrons. The air smelled of faint cigarette smoke, alcohol, and what she deemed as some of the worst cologne. She sipped on her drink, incredibly disappointed in its taste. It tasted cheap to her, but she was not entirely here for the drinks.

She continued to observe, waiting as she drank the whiskey. Her sips were slow, considering the quality of the drink. Had it been any other drink, it would be different. Her dark eyes, sharp and predatory looked from face to face, noting the subtlety in the body language of various patrons. There were so, so many options. One at the bar, one listening to the poetry, she was not quite sure which to choose. She continued to ponder as she drank. There was still time, the night was still young after all.