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URAHARA VS MAYURI: BATTLE OF THE SCIENTISTS | BLEACH THEORY
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There is an interesting contrast between Kisuke and Mayuri (and Aizen too) that being their ambition. Kisuke created something that allows you to gain goodhood, while Mayuri’s greatest dream was to show that humans could achive what only Gods should be able to do (creating life). Kisuke hides his more shady side, while Mayuri openly shows his, and hides his more human side (how he cares for Nemu). Kisuke’s Bankai is the perfect power for someone seeking to reshape the world, yet he only uses it when pushed to his limit, while Mayuri’s Bankai takes the form of a child whose powers are always changing and improving. You can tell that Kubo put a lot of thought and effort into both of these guys, and it shows. Two really great characters!Show less Wanting to be better than his mentor, earning his place as successor, and proving his greatness became his dreams, apparently. It can be limiting, having such laser-guided focus, and that shows, in my opinion. Urahara was always taking things apart, and then putting them together again, whereas the Captain to take his place only seemed capable of separating things into the most infinitesimally minute form imaginable.
Ooooh that sounds really interesting!!
So uh
I was writing... and now I'm writing a book...
(Defintly like.. atleast 16+ once I get into the dark shit)
But I wanted to see if yall liked my intro to the story?
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Hi, I'm pup, well.. that's not my real name, but to be fair, I never say my real name the first time I meet someone, you've... stumbled across a journal of sorts.
One from after the world truly went to shit.
I suppose your wondering why I call myself pup? That's because, well, I was born, with a mutation, that gave me pretty much just some parts a dog would have, tail, floppy puppy ears, better senses...
Oh! And, I'm a street urchin, so sharing my actual name? Isn't a smart move.
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So, this is how i introduce the main character (and narrator) Pup! I'm debating doing a 2 POV version, because Pup, makes a freind!
But right now, it's just Pup, and I need people to tell me, is Pup likeable so far? And is the writing done well?
A master to his action-hero trainee says, "Your movements are sloppy. You lack awareness of your body when you fight. Your hands move and yet you do not hold them in your mind's eye. Come. We will remedy this."
And then the master paints his trainee's fingernails and orders the trainee to complete a series of complicated tasks without smudging the nail polish.
The Trolley Problem
Again, sorry about the slow updates, but long Covid aside, as followers of my main Tumblr will have heard, my laptop keyboard is on its way out and typing is getting increasingly difficult. I’ve ordered a new wireless keyboard, but it hasn’t arrived yet. 🙄
Anyway, back to the superhero universe! warnings for death, police, attempted murder, supervillainy, and ethical dilemmas. Also swearing.
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“Choose,” the villain purred. She didn’t know his name. She was new, she hadn’t learned them all yet. “Who lives? Who dies? Who will you save, little hero?”
Flitter trembled. “I’m not making a choice,” she said, and her voice wasn’t as firm as she wanted it to be, even through the voice-changer. You’re gonna let both those cages down, nice and easy.” One cage full of nurses. One cage full of juvenile offenders. He’d said so, and she could see the scrubs and the jumpsuits for herself. He really wanted this to be a dilemma, and she didn’t know what to do, aside from telling him not to do it, and when did that ever work?
“Oh, I don’t think so.” He laughed at her, hands caressing the controls that suspended the two cages over the street forty floors below. She couldn’t remember his name! She recognized the costume, the jagged streaks of green and white and vivid yellow. This was a dangerous villain, the same guy who’d cut off both of Player One’s legs with some machine just a month ago, and she’d only been a cape for a couple of weeks, she wasn’t up to this guy’s weight in any way even with powers, and she couldn’t remember his name -
And then the villain’s head exploded. She saw it burst before she heard the sound of the gunshots, so they’d come from some distance away. There was red… stuff… all over the wall behind him, and as the body toppled she jumped forward to grab at the handles he’d been toying with - but it wasn’t necessary. Neither cage had moved.
She moved closer and wondered if she should check the body, but… the whole top two-thirds of the head was gone. Trying to take a pulse at this point would just be creepy and weird.
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first day as a second century warlord i have my men tie branches to their horses’ tails to stir up dust and make it look like there’s a lot of us but i forget it just rained so there isn’t any dust and the enemy can clearly see there’s like twenty of us all spread out in a line
Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.
Higgledy-piggledy unparliamentary green parrots quarrel outside in the trees
Squawking out epithets uncomplimentary Squads of unmannerly Oversized peas.
Which path should he choose?
The path of the warrior, the path of the scholar, or the path of the artist?
Day 24093 This is my house. I won’t allow anyone to harm it. There should have been no more intruders after the last one. I do not want these people here. They will leave-
Day 24095 They are siblings. They are loud. Always singing and talking and stomping. As if they must be louder than anything else.
Day 24106 There are bolts on the door now. Bolts and hideous, gaudy new locks. How dare they-
Night 24112 I was going to fill the night with terrors. But he woke up screaming before I began. She came running from the other room. They sleep right across the hall from each other, with the doors on a crack. …they are young, are they not, to be living on their own. Was I ever so young?
Day 24129 She has fixed the squeak in the door at the top of the stairs. It never squeaked when I still lived.
Day 24121 The noise of the doorbell scares them. But they get so many deliveries. It is a good bell. It has worked all these years- I can see one of the men coming now with his packages, trudging up to the door. …perhaps if I knock before he is here, they will come and look before he can sound the bell.
Day 24114 He is planting flowers in boxes on my windowsills. I always wished I could have some flowers.
Night 24137 She is afraid of the dark. I could see it in her eyes when she got out of bed. …I lit the lamps for her.
Day 24142 They have moved the couch to the sun spot a little to the right of the window. That is where I used to have my armchair. It is the only sensible place for it.
Day 24163 Sometimes the noises of the world are suddenly too much for him. He winces and tries not to sway his head. This is my house. …I can keep it calm and quiet for a while.
Day 24178 She just got a phone call and now they are both laughing. Laughter is a good sound, isn’t it. They said this house has been good luck…
Night 24205 They are singing in our kitchen. He found my cookbook in the gap at the back of the kitchen cabinet and now they are trying to cook. They wanted to start with the soufflé. They don’t even know how to make béchamel! I turned the page to the casserole instead.
Day 24236 This is my house. These are my boarders. I won’t allow anyone to harm them.
can someone help me find the poem about taking a bug outside, and how “if i were ever somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be, I hope someone would gently usher me outside too” but i KNOW thats not the line pls help
You meet god and she's mostly dead fish. You ask her why and she says most of the world is dead fish, and she's made herself to appeal to the most common denominator, the everyman funnyman comedy show that runs for eleven seasons but with the entire universe in mind. You ask her how much of the dead fish is your fault, she says it's far less than you'd think, in the grand scheme of things. You ask her if you matter at all. If you can do anything. She shrugs her rotting shoulders and says mattering is a made-up concept, like life, but sure, you can matter if you want to, on some scale. She has many scales. She doesn't know what you mean by 'anything', but you can do everything you can. You ask her if it's enough. She says there's no base requirement for deserving to exist. She's smoking a joint and the smoke filtering out of her gills gathers and forms gas giants and red dwarfs. You ask her if there's any hidden secrets of the universe you should know and she says it's not a secret if she tells, plus it's fun to let you figure it out yourself. You ask her if any of your questions were right questions and she says you worry about being right so much it might keep you from fucking around, which is as close to meaning of life as she ever bothered to make. You don't ask but she says she loves your hair, also your whole being, also your planet. She says she figured out what love is yesterday and is trying it out, which explains the ten thousand rainbows and sudden influx in rains of fish. She offers you a drag of her joint and you wake up half past midnight behind a chain restaurant clutching a smoked salmon. The new stars are winking like they're in on some joke and you're sure if you try hard enough you'll remember what it is.
Dorothy just wanted something that she could believe in, A gray dustbowl girl in a life she was better off leavin’. She made her escape, went from gray into green, And she could have got clear, and she could have got clean, But she chose to be good and go back to the gray Kansas sky Where color’s a fable and freedom’s a fairy tale lie.
Alice got lost, and I guess that we really can’t blame her; They say she got tangled and tied in the lies that became her. They say she went mad, and she never complained, For there’s peace of a kind in a life unconstrained. She gives Cheshire kisses, she’s easy with white rabbit smiles, And she’ll never be free, but she’s won herself safe for a while.
Susan and Lucy were queens, and they ruled well and proudly. They honored their land and their lord, rang the bells long and loudly. They never once asked to return to their lives To be children and chattel and mothers and wives, But the land cast them out in a lesson that only one learned; And one queen said ‘I am not a toy’, and she never returned.
Mandy’s a pirate, and Mia weaves silk shrouds for faeries, And Deborah will pour you red wine pressed from sweet poisoned berries. Kate poses riddles and Mary plays tricks, While Kaia builds towers from brambles and sticks, And the rules that we live by are simple and clear: Be wicked and lovely and don’t live in fear
Dorothy, Alice and Wendy and Jane, Susan and Lucy, we’re calling your names, All the Lost Girls who came out of the rain And chose to go back on the shelf. Tinker Bell says, and I find I agree You have to break rules if you want to break free. So do as you like — we’re determined to be Wicked girls saving ourselves.
For we will be wicked and we will be fair And they’ll call us such names, and we really won’t care, So go, tell your Wendys, your Susans, your Janes, There’s a place they can go if they’re tired of chains, And our roads may be golden, or broken, or lost, But we’ll walk on them willingly, knowing the cost — We won’t take our place on the shelves. It’s better to fly and it’s better to die Say the wicked girls saving ourselves.
(Seanan McGuire)
A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Do I look like a fool?” said the frog. “You’d sting me if I let you on my back!”
“Be logical,” said the scorpion. “If I stung you I’d certainly drown myself.”
“That’s true,” the frog acknowledged. “Climb aboard, then!” But no sooner than they were halfway across the river, the scorpion stung the frog, and they both began to thrash and drown. “Why on earth did you do that?” the frog said morosely. “Now we’re both going to die.”
“I can’t help it,” said the scorpion. “It’s my nature.”
___
…But no sooner than they were halfway across the river, the frog felt a subtle motion on its back, and in a panic dived deep beneath the rushing waters, leaving the scorpion to drown.
“It was going to sting me anyway,” muttered the frog, emerging on the other side of the river. “It was inevitable. You all knew it. Everyone knows what those scorpions are like. It was self-defense.”
___
…But no sooner had they cast off from the bank, the frog felt the tip of a stinger pressed lightly against the back of its neck. “What do you think you’re doing?” said the frog.
“Just a precaution,” said the scorpion. “I cannot sting you without drowning. And now, you cannot drown me without being stung. Fair’s fair, isn’t it?”
They swam in silence to the other end of the river, where the scorpion climbed off, leaving the frog fuming.
“After the kindness I showed you!” said the frog. “And you threatened to kill me in return?”
“Kindness?” said the scorpion. “To only invite me on your back after you knew I was defenseless, unable to use my tail without killing myself? My dear frog, I only treated you as I was treated. Your kindness was as poisoned as a scorpion’s sting.”
___
…“Just a precaution,” said the scorpion. “I cannot sting you without drowning. And now, you cannot drown me without being stung. Fair’s fair, isn’t it?”
“You have a point,” the frog acknowledged. “But once we get to dry land, couldn’t you sting me then without repercussion?”
“All I want is to cross the river safely,” said the scorpion. “Once I’m on the other side I would gladly let you be.”
“But I would have to trust you on that,” said the frog. “While you’re pressing a stinger to my neck. By ferrying you to land I’d be be giving up the one deterrent I hold over you.”
“But by the same logic, I can’t possibly withdraw my stinger while we’re still over water,” the scorpion protested.
The frog paused in the middle of the river, treading water. “So, I suppose we’re at an impasse.”
The river rushed around them. The scorpion’s stinger twitched against the frog’s unbroken skin. “I suppose so,” the scorpion said.
___
A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Absolutely not!” said the frog, and dived beneath the waters, and so none of them learned anything.
___
A scorpion, being unable to swim, asked a turtle (as in the original Persian version of the fable) to carry it across the river. The turtle readily agreed, and allowed the scorpion aboard its shell. Halfway across, the scorpion gave in to its nature and stung, but failed to penetrate the turtle’s thick shell. The turtle, swimming placidly, failed to notice.
They reached the other side of the river, and parted ways as friends.
___
…Halfway across, the scorpion gave in to its nature and stung, but failed to penetrate the turtle’s thick shell.
The turtle, hearing the tap of the scorpion’s sting, was offended at the scorpion’s ungratefulness. Thankfully, having been granted the powers to both defend itself and to punish evil, the turtle sank beneath the waters and drowned the scorpion out of principle.
___
A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Do I look like a fool?” sneered the frog. “You’d sting me if I let you on my back.”
The scorpion pleaded earnestly. “Do you think so little of me? Please, I must cross the river. What would I gain from stinging you? I would only end up drowning myself!”
“That’s true,” the frog acknowledged. “Even a scorpion knows to look out for its own skin. Climb aboard, then!”
But as they forged through the rushing waters, the scorpion grew worried. This frog thinks me a ruthless killer, it thought. Would it not be justified in throwing me off now and ridding the world of me? Why else would it agree to this? Every jostle made the scorpion more and more anxious, until the frog surged forward with a particularly large splash, and in panic the scorpion lashed out with its stinger.
“I knew it,” snarled the frog, as they both thrashed and drowned. “A scorpion cannot change its nature.”
___
A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. The frog agreed, but no sooner than they were halfway across the scorpion stung the frog, and they both began to thrash and drown.
“I’ve only myself to blame,” sighed the frog, as they both sank beneath the waters. “You, you’re a scorpion, I couldn’t have expected anything better. But I knew better, and yet I went against my judgement! And now I’ve doomed us both!”
“You couldn’t help it,” said the scorpion mildly. “It’s your nature.”
___
…“Why on earth did you do that?” the frog said morosely. “Now we’re both going to die.”
“Alas, I was of two natures,” said the scorpion. “One said to gratefully ride your back across the river, and the other said to sting you where you stood. And so both fought, and neither won.” It smiled wistfully. “Ah, it would be nice to be just one thing, wouldn’t it? Unadulterated in nature. Without the capacity for conflict or regret.”
___
“By the way,” said the frog, as they swam, “I’ve been meaning to ask: What’s on the other side of the river?”
“It’s the journey,” said the scorpion. “Not the destination.”
___
…“What’s on the other side of anything?” said the scorpion. “A new beginning.”
___
…”Another scorpion to mate with,” said the scorpion. “And more prey to kill, and more living bodies to poison, and a forthcoming lineage of cruelties that you will be culpable in.”
___
…”Nothing we will live to see, I fear,” said the scorpion. “Already the currents are growing stronger, and the river seems like it shall swallow us both. We surge forward, and the shoreline recedes. But does that mean our striving was in vain?”
___
“I love you,” said the scorpion.
The frog glanced upward. “Do you?”
“Absolutely. Can you imagine the fear of drowning? Of course not. You’re a frog. Might as well be scared of breathing air. And yet here I am, clinging to your back, as the waters rage around us. Isn’t that love? Isn’t that trust? Isn’t that necessity? I could not kill you without killing myself. Are we not inseparable in this?”
The frog swam on, the both of them silent.
___
“I’m so tired,” murmured the frog eventually. “How much further to the other side? I don’t know how long we’ve been swimming. I’ve been treading water. And it’s getting so very dark.”
“Shh,” the scorpion said. “Don’t be afraid.”
The frog’s legs kicked out weakly. “How long has it been? We’re lost. We’re lost! We’re doomed to be cast about the waters forever. There is no land. There’s nothing on the other side, don’t you see!”
“Shh, shh,” said the scorpion. “My venom is a hallucinogenic. Beneath its surface, the river is endlessly deep, its currents carrying many things.”
“You - You’ve killed us both,” said the frog, and began to laugh deliriously. “Is this - is this what it’s like to drown?”
“We’ve killed each other,” said the scorpion soothingly. “My venom in my glands now pulsing through your veins, the waters of your birthing pool suffusing my lungs. We are engulfing each other now, drowning in each other. I am breathless. Do you feel it? Do you feel my sting pierced through your heart?”
“What a foolish thing to do,” murmured the frog. “No logic. No logic to it at all.”
“We couldn’t help it,” whispered the scorpion. “It’s our natures. Why else does anything in the world happen? Because we were made for this from birth, darling, every moment inexplicable and inevitable. What a crazy thing it is to fall in love, and yet - It’s all our fault! We are both blameless. We’re together now, darling. It couldn’t have happened any other way.”
___
“It’s funny,” said the frog. “I can’t say that I trust you, really. Or that I even think very much of you and that nasty little stinger of yours to begin with. But I’m doing this for you regardless. It’s strange, isn’t it? It’s strange. Why would I do this? I want to help you, want to go out of my way to help you. I let you climb right onto my back! Now, whyever would I go and do a foolish thing like that?”
___
A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Do I look like a fool?” said the frog. “You’d sting me if I let you on my back!”
“Be logical,” said the scorpion. “If I stung you I’d certainly drown myself.”
“That’s true,” the frog acknowledged. “Come aboard, then!” But no sooner had the scorpion mounted the frog’s back than it began to sting, repeatedly, while still safely on the river’s bank.
The frog groaned, thrashing weakly as the venom coursed through its veins, beginning to liquefy its flesh. “Ah,” it muttered. “For some reason I never considered this possibility.”
“Because you were never scared of me,” the scorpion whispered in its ear. “You were never scared of dying. In a past life you wore a shell and sat in judgement. And then you were reborn: soft-skinned, swift, unburdened, as new and vulnerable as a child, moving anew through a world of children. How could anyone ever be cruel, you thought, seeing the precariousness of it all?” The scorpion bowed its head and drank. “How could anyone kill you without killing themselves?”
we hunt the mighty pasta BEAST
and breadsticks are its BONES
ALFREDO FLOWS inside its veins
its organs are CALZONES
Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.
OP made the post unrebloggable but said it's fine to screenshot and I'm in love with this
