Dwoality2123 - Dwoality

Dogra: How the hell are you still alive?

Sabo: Honestly, I'm just as confused as you are.

I took my stance

And paid a glance;

I brought my hand down,

And fire danced around.

I brough him flames,

And they marred his face;

I am aware of the cruelty,

And the tragic beauty.

A tragic tale,

Told by people that wail;

Though, I will not regret,

Lest I fall to my death.

Flash frowns internally—or maybe he does it externally, too—as he stares down a guy who has obvious interest in his baby sister. The man in front of him—Graydon or something—returns his gaze with no sign of backing down. "May I ask...what's your relationship with Jesse?"

Flash raises a brow, "are you that curious?"

"I am, yes."

"Well, I've been curious myself. What do you think of Jessica?"

"....She's my friend."

"Is that it?"

"Are you looking for a different answer?" they challenge.

"Yes. A manlier one."

"A...manlier one?"

"Yeah, you know, direct to the point, leaving nothing for you to guess, that sorta answer."

They blink and lean back, having leaned forward during their daring conversation. "I..." they mull it over, looking for the proper words, "I want to be the one she loves."

Flash stays silent, searching their face for deceit. Slowly, he nods, and looks away, arms crossed as Jesse returns with their ordered beverages. She looks between the two of them, noting the tells of displeasure in her brother. She smiles and starts up a conversation with Graydon, not caring for her brother's lack of input for now.

She smiles as Graydon looks at his watch and excuses himself, having errands to run. She waves him goodbye and watches him drive away. Only then does she look at her brother who's already staring at her, knowing that she'll want to speak with him. "...You don't like him?"

He sighs and sips on his coffee, watered-down with melted ice, "not satisfied with him, no."

She purses her lips and nods, sullen at the admission. "What is it about him?"

He peers up at her, "just...suspicious of him. Plus, I didn't like his answer."

"Well, what do you want him to do..?" she inquires, hopeful but clearly upset.

Flash shrugs, "treat you well."

"He does, though."

"Then date him."

"But—" she exhales loudly.

He sighs after a beat of silence, "do you like him?"

"Yes," she says, resolutely.

"Then date him, even if it might hurt in the future."

She frowns deeper, "it's like you want me to be hurt."

"If I wanted you to be hurt, you wouldn't be asking what your boyfriend or whatever can do to make me like him. You wouldn't even ask me."

She exhales, her brother has a point.

"It's not that I want you to be hurt, I don't. I'm your older brother, I want to protect you from harm, it's basically my duty."

She glances at him.

"But, I can't protect you from every harm without doing the damage. It happens, we all get hurt, no matter how careful we are. If I try to protect you from every thing that might hurt you, you'd be hurt. If I didn't, you'd be hurt. Doesn't matter what you do, you can't live a painless life. What matters is how you overcome those painful times. That's what I'm here for, I'll always be here for you."

She smiles tearfully.

"Date him if you like him, maybe it'll be the greatest choice you make. Some things are worth the pain, in the end. And if he ends up being an ass, then I'll be here for you. Point is, you'll get hurt no matter what, maybe you two would argue, maybe he'd treat you badly. You'll make mistakes and you'll learn from them, you'll get hurt and you'll be stronger. As long as you get out of there when it's getting...toxic, then be with him. It's the happy memories that matters, in the end, right?"

She nods, "yeah."

"Promise me you'll leave if it gets toxic, though."

She holds out her pinkie, linking it with his, "promise. And I know that you'll be there to pull me out."

He smiles, "make good friends, yeah? Good ones, the ones that'll stick with you no matter what."

"I will, I do....Thanks, Flash."

He smiles, "anything for my sister."

here's a lil scribble I did with Raven (personally I think #3 fits her aesthetic😍) ⭐️ part 49292 of me refusing to shove her into one "goth" category 😤

Gwi-nam: I learned some very valuable lesson from this.

Gwi-nam: Death isn't real and I'm basically a god.

Contradictions

I'm the very embodiment of contradictions. The physical manifestation of duality molded into a body. I am the adjective of two extremes. To describe me is to confuse oneself, to describe me is to describe everything and nothing. I feel inferiority just as I feel superiority. I'm the most evil nice person to exist for there are equal amounts of nicety than there is evil in me. I am sinful saint. I utter the words of a god that my heart oozes no faith for, yet any arguments of my god's existence fills me with a rage like a devout.

I grieve no one and everyone. My heart beats no care or love for any entity be it my family or my friends or a lover that never will exist for my heart will hold nothing but apathy. Yet. My words and my actions are devotions of a semblance of a love that I do not feel. My thoughts are dedicated for them as if I am driven by love—yet my heart beats nothing but pumped blood.

I understand myself very well, the only person to ever understand me. Though I confuse myself all the time. I am so inexplicable that I am only explained by my name. My name is all the explanations one needs, every nuances of my being—blurred and confusing it may be for anyone but me. They explain me by uttering my name, chalk it up to [—] being [—] as if that's the only explanation for my behavior and my words and my expressions.

People talk about me as if they can understand me, as if their words are true. It is not. Even those that hold the title of my closest friend always gets it wrong. They say my name as if it explains it all despite them not knowing what it is that's actually being explained by the simple whisper of my name.

What's in a name, I wonder?

Because it definitely is not understanding.

the guilt I feel when I’m doing something else instead of writing is there, it’s just not strong enough to make me stop doing that something else and start writing. so it’s just there; enough to make me feel guilt, but not enough to make me write. 

thus most of the times, I’m doing something else while feeling guilty knowing I should be writing.

I use Pinterest for my base, credits to the artist of the base.

Rewatched Saltburn and I'm obsessed with Farleigh and Oliver's tutoring scene. The essay specifically. For those who don't remember: Oliver did his homework and all his assignments and genuinely gave a well thought out essay for their summer assignments. Farleigh shows up hungover and late and didn't even read the books. But the teacher immediately loves Farleigh and is chatting him up with an interest he barely tried to show Oliver. Even after Oliver gives his presentation and shows that he's clearly a much better student than Farleigh. Obviously this is the real start of their rivalry. But it's also such a beautiful look into their characters and how they mirror eachother. Farleigh understands Oliver's essay, I believe. But like the teacher he's bored by it. The knowledge and work is there, but the presentation of it is boring and strange. Academic and correct, but lacking the appeal to the audience. (Which, can we talk about the fact Farleigh was genuinely listening at all? The teacher zoned out and switched channels, but Farleigh was interested and paying enough attention to know the exact number of times Oliver used the word "thus" in his essay. They respect each other truly even if they despise eachother at this point, and refuse to acknowledge the grudging respect.) So Farleigh does what he does best, he gloats over Oliver. He picks apart the style of the essay and it's presentation rather than addressing the central argument or topic. This delights the teacher and frustrates Oliver who is like, "so you're going to critique the style of my essay rather than it's substance? Seems a bit lazy" and that's the core component of these two characters.

Farleigh is ALL about presentation. He knows how fragile his pedistal is placed up and in view for everyone to see. He's a charity project, just like every other rando of the month. Sure he has some familiar connection, and that's given him a leg up in this world. But it's still shakey at best. He always has to give the correct performance, say the right words, keep his audience on HIS side. Unless he wants to get knocked down with the rest of the common rabal that he knows he's belongs with, but can't stand the idea of. So yes, of course he picks apart the one thing he knows Oliver is failing at. He takes his one advantage over Oliver and uses it mercilessly to both entertain and secure his audience on his side. (I wonder if the positions had been different some how, if Farleigh would have had anything to say about the substance of the essay itself. He was paying attention to it, did he want to have a real academic conversation? Did he possibly want to try and connect to Oliver in that way? A real and non performative way with someone who's so similar to him?)

As for Oliver, obviously his character is intelligent. He does the readings. He does the research. He puts the time and effort in to *learn* in the way Farleigh never does. And it must infuriate him that his essay is so easily pushed to the side for a cheep critique that doesn't even address the central argument of his essay. Of course he would hate Farleigh from the start for that. It's such a quick negation of all that Oliver has to offer and give just because it's not wrapped up in a pretty bow. And that's just his character. The substance is there, the intelligence is there. But it's not enough. It will never be enough. Because Oliver doesn't know how to translate it to his audience in a way they'll care about. He learns and tries to mimic, but it always falls short because he just can't seem to figure out the way to blend in and present himself so seamlessly as Farleigh.

And that's why they're such perfect mirrors of each other. They're both intelligent and clever. But they've found different ways of getting what they want and proving themselves. Farleigh is the face and the presentation, Oliver is the substance and body. In another world imagine what these two could have done and been if they hadn't been pitted against each other for the same prize. And the fact Oliver definitely deliberately shoved Farleigh out at the perfect time so he wouldn't get hurt and killed? Oliver and Farleigh respect and admire the other. But their tragedy is they can never be on the same page or team because the world they're in says there is only room for one. And they'd both do anything to get that title.