Words from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows for the signs
n. the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat, whose tenuous muscular throbbing feels less like a metronome than a nervous ditty your heart is tapping to itself, the kind that people compulsively hum or sing while walking in complete darkness, as if to casually remind the outside world, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here .
n. a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—briefly soaking in the experience of being alive, an act that is done purely for its own sake.
n. the frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time, which is like standing in front of the departures screen at an airport, flickering over with strange place names like other people’s passwords, each representing one more thing you’ll never get to see before you die—and all because, as the arrow on the map helpfully points out, you are here .
n. the desire to be struck by disaster—to survive a plane crash, to lose everything in a fire, to plunge over a waterfall—which would put a kink in the smooth arc of your life, and forge it into something hardened and flexible and sharp, not just a stiff prefabricated beam that barely covers the gap between one end of your life and the other.
n. the frustration of knowing how easily you fit into a stereotype, even if you never intended to, even if it’s unfair, even if everyone else feels the same way—each of us trick-or-treating for money and respect and attention, wearing a safe and predictable costume because we’re tired of answering the question, “What are you supposed to be?”
n. the moment you realize that you’re currently happy—consciously trying to savor the feeling—which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it’s little more than an aftertaste.
Libra: Contact High-five
n. an innocuous touch by someone just doing their job—a barber, yoga instructor or friendly waitress—that you enjoy more than you’d like to admit, a feeling of connection so stupefyingly simple that it cheapens the power of the written word, so that by the year 2025, aspiring novelists would be better off just giving people a hug.
n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable—their pupils glittering, bottomless and opaque—as if you were peering through a hole in the door of a house, able to tell that there’s someone standing there, but unable to tell if you’re looking in or looking out.
n. the feeling of returning home after an immersive trip only to find it fading rapidly from your awareness—to the extent you have to keep reminding yourself that it happened at all, even though it felt so vivid just days ago—which makes you wish you could smoothly cross-dissolve back into everyday life, or just hold the shutter open indefinitely and let one scene become superimposed on the next, so all your days would run together and you’d never have to call cut.
Capricorn: The Bends
n. frustration that you’re not enjoying an experience as much as you should, even something you’ve worked for years to attain, which prompts you to plug in various thought combinations to try for anything more than static emotional blankness, as if your heart had been accidentally demagnetized by a surge of expectations.
n. the inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends who you really like—as if all your social tastebuds suddenly went numb, leaving you unable to distinguish cheap politeness from the taste of genuine affection, unable to recognize its rich and ambiguous flavors, its long and delicate maturation, or the simple fact that each tasting is double-blind.
n. an imaginary interview with an old photo of yourself, an enigmatic figure who still lives in the grainy and color-warped house you grew up in, who may well spend a lot of their day wondering where you are and what you’re doing now, like an old grandma whose kids live far away and don’t call much anymore.
aries: even if they are not very loud or sociable you’ll probably find something that just feels “right” about them. You can see they are not the type to stand back and let you mistreat them. They can also surprise you (especially if they are a bit shy) when they make the first move with the security and daring nature only an aries can have. As to their appearance, they usually have wide foreheads that can give them a child like look and lean bodies (if you’re a girl you may not have exaggerated curves).
taurus: their nose will probably stick up to you the most, they usually have wide, button noses and half lidded eyes. If not, their voice could also be the most unique thing about them, having a calming and aesthetic quality. These natives usually have wide bodies as well and a stable and slow aura about them. They have something that makes them appealing and attractive, even if no one can exactly pinpoint what.
gemini: you’ll immediately notice their fast paced nature, and if you’re more of the relaxed type you may not like it. They jump from one topic to the other, from one place to the other, they can’t be still for the lives of them! Gemini risings are usually lithe and not very tall, and there’s a sharp, foxy quality to their faces. They can go from super sociable and talkative to quiet and grumpy in a second. Pretty hands!
cancer: the first thing you’ll probably notice about these people are their eyes, maybe not because of their size or color but because of their expressiveness. Cancer rising’s eyes bring you calm and a sense of melancholy, you’ll probably wonder if they’re okay more than once. There’s also a sense of protection and receptiveness around them, whether they make you want to protect you or you feel protected around them. Round faces and traditionally feminine bodies!
leo: you’ll notice them as soon as they enter the room. There’s a confident aura around them and feline eyes that scan the place almost predatorily. Loud laughs and being unapologetically themselves is the first thing that comes to mind when someone mentions a leo rising. Drama is their thing, so if you wanna be with someone chill, maybe leo risings are not for you. Their hair usually grabs attention the most but they can have strong noses as well.
virgo: virgo risings have a fresh, natural appearance to them, and it’ll probably catch you eye, as well as their fair features and feminine aura. Even in guys you can sense something very sensitive and gentle about them. They are very clean people and they expect the same from others. The best hands around with gemini tbh.
libra: their charm. They are effortlessly well liked wherever they go (even if they fuck up later) and are conventionally attractive most of the time. They usually have perky butts (god forgive me lmao) and delicate torso. Some of them just give a bad vibe and you don’t know why. Others seem very polite and have smiles to die for. Makes me think of bodies like Venus in The Birth of Venus by Botticelli.
scorpio: a brooding look is usually what separates them from the rest (picture Jon Snow tbh), as well as the mysterious “bad boy/girl” aura and a strong intimidation, you’ll probably be kinda afraid to talk to them. You feel attracted to them, even if you don’t know why, they got magnetism. Piercing eyes holy shit. Sex appeal, like duh. Look like they are hiding something.
sagittarius: these risings have an easy going, non judgmental (even if later you realize they are lol) aura to them. There’s an exaggeration to their appearance, they either have big facial features (big eyes, big lips, big everything), super curvy bodies, or super tall with long arms and legs. There’s always something unique about them, that would make you recognize them in a sec, wether it is their laugh, their voice, etc. Gain weight easily.
capricorn: i n t i m i d a t i n g. You know they have their shit together and they won’t take yours. They appear very controlled and with a strong presence, you immediately know they are someone you can rely on. Appearance wise they have a bone structure to die for and are usually pretty small and/or skinny. Can look pissed off even if they aren’t.
aquarius: unique appearance, they don’t look from this world and believe me you will know they’re an aquarius rising when you see them. They usually have assymetrical features and sparkling eyes. Besides that, their eccentric antiques will be another immediate indicator. A bit intimidating too. The type of person that dyes their hair in fun colors and dresses however they like without giving a fuck about other’s opinions.
pisces: another otherwordly rising, but this because they always look like they are somewhere else. Their eyes are dreamy and their features soft and sweet. You’ll probably idealize them and consider them the sweetest and most innocent people ever (even if they aren’t) as soon as you meet them. Just like cancer you wanna ask them if they are okay 24/7 lol. Their e y e s omg. Plump bodies and easily gain weight. Makes me think of freckles.
I’m sorry, I just keep on thinking about a Jeeves and Wooster modern AU and I need to share my feelings soooooooo…..
The millennial Drones would all have their livelihood/passions/income revolve around social media, since that’s the modern equivalent of the no-good-lazy-spoiled-kids-who-won’t-get-a-proper-job-like-their-parents trope. Like, Gussie Fink-Nottle has an instagram, tumblr and facebook account for every single one of his newts, Tuppy Glossop’s a food blogger etc. Gentlemens’ clubs aren’t really a thing for the younger set, so their meeting place is a pub NAMED The Drones, where they socialise and loaf about, sharing selfies and memes and other no-good-lazy-millenial stuff.
Bertie would be big on Youtube and Vine, known for quirky music, comedy and anecdotes, sort of a mix of Phil Lester and Jon Cozart. He’d perform the ludicrous pop songs of today as well as musical theatre - not only Lin-Manuel Miranda and Disney tunes but WELL LEGIT Gershwin and Berlin and`Porter. His friends would all ask him to sing Rat Pack standards at their weddings which he gladly does pro bono.
Jeeves would have gotten himself a scholarship to Cambridge (reading law and philosophy) and wound up as a solicitor, since his calling is basically solving other peoples’ problems and disputes. He would earn himself a reputation as the best of the best and be sought after by peers of the realm and CEOs of large companies for Delicate Matters. Unlike Bertie, who takes to this era like a thingummy to water, Jeeves is still something of an anachronism: impeccable old-fashioned manners, formal speech for all occasions (he even calls the cashier at Pret-A-Manger ‘madam’), and never goes out in public without wearing a button-up shirt & necktie. He has typical Generation Xer stand-offish cynicism, deftly packaged in dapper-as-fuck tactfulness.
I can imagine Bertie, having just gotten over his breakup with Ginger (the cad left him for Magnolia), would meet Jeeves whilst house-sitting for one of the Drones in some fashionable Zone 1 / 2 neighborhood (say Chelsea or Fulham). Jeeves has the flat across the hall and Bertie runs into him while trying to take out the rubbish bins (and failing). Jeeves, of course, effortlessly sets everything to rights, and perceiving how clueless Bertie is in day-to-day maintenance of a household, comes over every day to assist him (and not because Bertie is the most adorable wide-eyed cherub of a twink he’s ever seen - perish the thought!)
As Bertie is a magnet for drama, the neighbours in the building and his fellow Drones inevitably fall upon him with all of their problems - some involving romance, but others involving compromising photos going viral, public gaffes where politically incorrect remarks are uttered, etc. Jeeves and Bertie schlep around modern-day London having light-hearted adventures solving all of these problems. Bertie regales his subscribers with the stories of these adventures, going on and on about how wonderful Jeeves is. In the general on-line community, comparisons are drawn between Bertie’s vlog and the blog belong to the boyfriend of that ‘Hat Detective’ on Baker St.
When the time comes for Bertie to leave the flat he was caretaking, he coyly asks Jeeves if he would take Bertie on as a client at his practice. Jeeves refuses, stating that his principles forbid him to date anyone he’s professionally involved with. It takes Bertie half a day to figure out that Jeeves has asked him out.
From there it’s fluff and music and roses and bickering. They get their flat together in Mayfair and Jeeves feels no reserve about scolding Bertie for leaving bath towels on the floor and dirty dishes in the sink. His sweet otherwordly Bertram is a slovenly man-child who he manages to train. Somewhat. Eventually a kitten is adopted because REG HE’S SO CUTE HE FOLLOWED ME HOME LOOK AT HIS LITTLE FACE CAN WE GO DOWN TO BATTERSEA AND GET HIM A PLAYMATE OH PLEEEEASE I’LL PROMISE TO CLEAN THE LITTER TRAY AND GIVE YOU HEAD WHENEVER YOU WANT IT
Also he once tried to convince Jeeves to come with him to the Brinkley Court Halloween Party dressed in drag as Elphaba and Glinda, but Jeeves “mixed up “ the order to the online costume shop, so they went in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff robes instead.
They spend rainy weekends playing the piano and cooking and exchanging bants and bargaining about fashion choices and having fantastic sex. To their friends they are ‘Bertie and Reg’ and they are like, omigod, the cutest couple eveerrrr, ikr
Aunt Dahlia is the P-Flag auntie, having been the first person that Bertie came out to. She has always hoped that her young blot will find a good man who can keep him in check (Jeeves is heaven sent to her), while Agatha is the homophbic aunt.
AGATHA: Bertie. You must marry and have children.
BERTIE: For the thousandth time, Aunt Agatha, I’m gay. As much as you wish otherwise, that Lord Arran fellow assured the Empire’s assent of my sexual orientation while you were still in knee socks and fawning over Cliff Richard.
AGATHA: It is a childish phase. It will pass once I find a woman of good breeding who can mould you.
BERTIE: Aunt Agatha–
AGATHA: Mould. You.
She lives in Belgravia and despises smartphones.
Thankfully the 21st Century edition of The Code of The Woosters impels Bertie to tell any prospective female that being affianced to him is inadvisable for multiple reasons.
Also Lady Florence is an SJW hipster and political lesbian who lives in Shoreditch with her girlfriend Honoria. She takes every opportunity to criticise Bertie for drinking sugary Starbucks lattes and wearing T shirts with licensed cartoon characters on them. Bertie often wonders why the hell he’s friends with her.
Bertie’s other queer friends are Bingo (the ultimate panromantic), Catsmeat (just your average theatre geek with a libido the size of Soho) and cousin Eustace (not so much a friend as a tagalong, always getting suspended for hitting on his professors). They sometimes go to G-A-Y, where they are consistently ignored by all the cool clubbers, opting to drink and watch drag shows and throw beer nuts at each other. Marion Wardour is Bertie’s gal pal and sometimes she comes along too, with the aim of hooking up with bi guys (and occasionally bi girls). Otherwise, she’s off singing in fringe musicals.
Spode is a member of UKIP and his wife Madeleine writes awful Winnie the Pooh fanfiction.
Why was Dean acting like an ass to Cas in season 6?
Don’t worry about it, though. We’ve all been there, and especially me.
So, I won’t get into this a lot because season 6 has been discussed so much - some meta bloggers, like @elizabethrobertajones, even have weirdly specific tags for it (hers is ‘we don’t talk about season six’, which I always assumed was a veiled threat and, as it turns out, she thinks it was a very romantic season and we don’t discuss it nearly enough).
There are various theories about how this season was built, and one of them is that it was supposed to turn Cas for good - to make him into an enemy and then eliminate him from the show, if I remember correctly, so the general consensus seems to be, Why wasn’t Dean more of an ass to Cas in season 6?This was a narrative centered on misunderstanding and miscommunication, and from Dean’s point of view, Cas was acting like a demented Callahan type for no reason, which, given angels were (they still are, but back then it was particularly noticeable) the most powerful creatures Dean’d ever encountered, was incredibly dangerous, not to mention unpredictable. Dean should have wanted to take Cas out just to be on the safe side, and if it had been anyone else, he would have done it. But, of course, deep bond and stuff. Even after Cas’ done the unforgivable and hurt Sam, possibly for good (protect Sam: remember that’s Dean’s genetic imprinting, and he steamrolls over both friends and enemies to get that done), Dean still has enough empathy and affection for Cas to come clean about his own feelings, and to try and help Cas, or even save him, if he can. That, I think, is unprecedented?
Something that doesn’t come up a lot as a reason why Dean was so awful to Cas during this season (and therefore, what I’ll focus on here) is how Dean constantly refuses to see Cas for what he is - not a human being, but an unknowable, alien, otherwordly creature.
Now, from Dean’s perspective (at the beginning of season 4), angels are not monsters, or things he hunts, or things that exist in the real world; they are, instead much more close and personal than that. They are a cherished memory of his mother, and they are, therefore, an emotional concept which symbolizes peace and being safe and thinking that things could, one day, be alright. This is thrown into particular sharp contrast if we compare Dean’s religious beliefs to Sam’s - we know that Dean doesn’t believe in God, and therefore angels, and that he doesn’t pray. So, for him, angels really are this intimate, childish thing he’s allowed himself to cling to all these years: his mother’s voice, full of love, biding him goodnight. And when Cas shows up, it’s painfully clear that Dean takes his very existence personally, and he’s not at all happy with any part of it. Cas is important in the narrative because he sort of ‘pushes’ Dean out of his comfort zone; he challenges him, and makes him feel out of control in a life where Dean’s fought so hard to be in control at all times (because someone had to be). In a way, I wouldn’t be surprised if Cas’ overt sexual aggressiveness was planned for exactly this reason - because Dean’s been written as bi from the start, and yet this is a part of himself he keep a tight rein over, and Cas’ behaviour very nearly shatters all that. We’ve seen Dean’s uncomfortable with being flirted at, and he’s uncomfortable with anyone being too close to him (in every sense) and Cas, in this sense, is a nuclear reaction. All those secrets Dean’s fought so hard to protect from his brother and Bobby and everyone else - now there’s someone who knows them. All of them, including what he really thinks about himself and the shameful things he did in Hell and how they made him feel. And the fact Cas was always in Dean’s personal space was partly meant, I think, to symbolize this intrusion into Dean’s mind and soul.
(It must have been terrifying, really.)
And the thing is, out of all the possible responses Dean could have to this gobsmacking, life-changing revelation (that God exists and angels exist and one of them saved him from Hell and is now following him around), what Dean chooses to do is extremely revealing: he starts treating Cas like a human.
I have Twitter and Pinterest too, if those are more your thing. I’m also going to start an Instagram, but two someones I don’t know have registered both “otherwordly” and “otherwordly_” and started posting things from my blog without me, so… I’ll have to think about that one a little longer. But come check out Otherwordly at these other neat places.
If you registered either of those Instagram accounts, I’d love to speak to you, so send me an ask or an email—thanks!
can’t comment on the otherwordly nature of dollar stores but i can say that i worked @ one for a month and, on a night shift, @ like 10:30, when i was the only person in the actual store part of the building, things fell down after i’d walked past them (i hadn’t even came close to touching/moving anything near them like. i just walked by), three separate times, on three separate aisles, so whatever that was.. it was whatever
Can you take other forms besides a cat or a rabbit? like whats the limit on size here, or is there even a limit at all?? You got me hella curious, dude.
I can be pretty much everything down to a mouse, but it’s hard to go smaller than that. I can also be as big as a house if I wanted, but it makes you as weak as a 12-year-old kid. It’s almost like Ant Man principles: the more you compact your form (smaller, denser) the stronger you are–luckily, standard person size is still very dense to beings like me–we have a lot more matter solidified into one space.
For us, human size is actually about the strength of two grown men in one body, so you can get “medium-size monster” big like, say, a werewolf, and still pack a mean punch, but any bigger than that and you’re going to really lose power. Nothing more boring than a nine-foot-tall, five-foot-wide demon that’s only as strong as a 22-year-old guy. Everybody stands a chance against that.
Don’t be a dragon. Dragons get destroyed. Even when you’re otherwordly, hubris and acts of ego are punished here.
Now, if you really want to survive (and never be caught killing), then be a random woodland animal–you’ll be a single wolf with the strength of a rhino. It’s extremely possible to be Stephen King’s Cujo.
If you like Gravity Falls or Over the Garden Wall, you will love the new Netflix show Legend Quest. It follows a boy from Mexico, who can see and speak to the dead, who goes on a quest (with his otherwordly friends) to save the world from its end. Along the way he encounters countless new cultures, people, and dangerous mythical creatures.