𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒐𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒆 !
“the opposition between the virtues and the vices to which these works allude despite the frequent inclusion of other schemes may seem unproblematic at first sight. the virtues and the vices seem to mirror each other as positive and negative moral attitudes, so that medieval authors, with their keen predilection for parallels and oppositions, could conveniently set them against each other. ... yet artistic representations [ …] are misleading in that they establish oppositions between the principal virtues and the capital vices which are based on MERE JUXTAPOSTION “
note: this is a story depicting two sides of the same 6 feet tall coin, describing the relationship between basile & mack in the only way i know how; with multiple obscure playlists and a dash of mythology. told from basile’s pov, it is quite possible the most homoerotic hate letter you’ll read today, who knows. ALSO; please note that i am still an untalented blob that cannot do graphics to save my life, so the biggest thank you to diana, who luckily loves kate just as much as i do.
prıde ( humılıtч )
; refers to a foolishly and irrationally corrupt sense of one's personal value, status or accomplishments, used synonymously with hubris
PLAYLIST I it was the beginning of things. the way how the leaves fell, the cards were dealt; the divide of the seas. once done, it could never be repaired ----- oh how the ego swells and bruises with ease. you’ve created a world for yourself to rule, and the only thing which can shake it is a rebel piece which would not find its place. you don’t understand it ; ichor unable to wrap around the feat laid at your feet. you don’t know him yet, but you learn quickly that an act of rebellion is all you need to justify your hatred; it’s written in scripture, it’s carved into the sky from which angels fall. he should know not to challenge you, but he does and it’s only when you’re cast from the heavens, heading towards the ground as a crumblring star when you realizes that it is you who are the one losing their grace.
he does not walk the earth with purpose, merely treads among the humans as if he belongs, and no one spares him a second glance. HE FITS IN, in a soft, pliant matter of which your edges are too sharp to do without causing hurt. he does not lack what you have in abundance; but he wears pride differently ----- the shades of it kind and gentle on the eyes. it’s modesty, covering up the power which you both share and you learn to hate him for it. while you have spent your days trying to paint yourself BIGGER, using obscure colors ; just in order to be seen, he does the opposite. he fades out the vibrancy, belittling himself with kindness and humility that does not fit into the world you’ve created. the sin of which he is able to swallow, you find yourself choking and coughing on until you can no longer breathe. you deem it sinful; for someone walk through life as if he was no better than anyone else when you knew the truth. he was just like you. he just hid it better, you’re sure of it.
greed ( chαrıtч )
; an inordinate or insatiable longing, especially for wealth, status and power.
PLAYLIST II you want the world, just for the sake of having it; just because you can’t see it fall into anyone else’s hands. they call pride the root of all sin, and perhaps they’re right in the way it penetrates and makes every surface permeable to more cardinal traps. why should it not fall to you? you want it more than anything, all of it, and it lingers within until you have convinced yourself that it is within your right to have it.
the issue lies in the way he accepts it, so easily handing it all over to you without a second glance. he doesn’t even fight; does not seem to have something raging inside of his rib cage, flames licking his insides, asking him to try and satiate it with everything he can get his hands on. instead of taking and stealing, he is more than willing to tear out pieces of himself for the sake of others, for the generosity of it. he is not plagued by the WANTING of it, the desire for everything, as you are; instead he reeks of content and charity, and the state is so unfamiliar to you that you don’t even know how to respond to it. the simplest way is to exclude yourself from it, to convince yourself that you are exempt from the warmth that he swims in so casually that your hatred can still be justified.
ɯrαth ( pαtıence )
; intense anger or belligerence aroused by real or supposed wrong.
PLAYLIST III it’s easier to hate him, when he gives you a reason to; an ANCHOR where your despise can fester and turn the iron into red and rust. ire, in all its forms, awoken by the crime against someone you care about. he’s nothing but venom and darkness, and demonic like you, after all, and even if it’s wrong to relish in arah’s anguish; a part of you does. a darkened, sadistic piece of you is skipping beats and racing fast at the revelation of it ---- VICTORY.
but the sweet taste isn’t quite as satisfying as you thought it would be, instead turning into something cruel at the tip of your tongue. what you thought would SUBSIDE with a single confirmation that he was just like you only grows and grows; beastly things brought to life in the absence of light. you adore her, the one whom he hurt so carelessly, and is that not enough to demand vengeance ? your hubris comes alive again, thinking of the heartbreak as collateral damage in a war which you seem to be fighting alone. he does not seem so keen to pick up a sword and a personal agenda towards you; but it’s already too late. you hate him. you, better than anyone, knows that sins cannot go unpunished like this.
lust ( chαsıtıtч )
; intense wanting or longing for an object, or circumstance fulfilling the emotion, such as the lust for sexuality, love, money or power.
PLAYLIST IV josephine. she’s the one purified thread tying the two of you together; the one attempting to stitch together scales and satin, thinking it will heal. you are not completely opposed to the idea, head tilted, eyes drilling into pleading smiles and you can admit that she is right when she has found herself to be the common ground. not a battlefield, but a place to rest for them both; inviting you to eden and asking you to share a table, to meet in the middle. perhaps the likeness between you two only become prevalent in settings like these; when looking through rosy hues upon whom you love.
THERE ARE DANGERS, IN THE MIDDLE, however. there is temptation in being offered a common interest, a golden thread, and to be expected not to pull it. you do, of course, and you pull and drag until there’s nothing left for him. that is the problem with want ----- that when not satiated, it spreads and spreads until anything amber, and shiny will do. you don’t do it just because he wants her, that’s one thing that is certain; but you can’t help that it’s simply in your nature. while he has gone through life waiting patiently, you’re a different breed. not human, but man – made monster, all you can do is take, take, take. it’s another testament to the way you DIFFER; you have never been able to wait, while his worst downfall is waiting too long, not jumping into action until you’ve already sunk your teeth into what he desires so badly.
envч ( kındness )
; resentful emotion that occurs when a person lack’s another person’s perceived superior quality, achievement or possession and wishes that the other lacked it.
PLAYLIST V he is everything you are not, and while pride is the thing bringing you to your knees, that fact is what FUELS your hatred. light and blessed with soft hands, everyone falls to worship him as if fated to; while you have fought your entire life to reach such status. he is kind ; undeniably likable, when you are not ----- the mask which you have perfected still sticking out as a sore thumb in comparison to what comes so naturally to aquamarine blue.
IT CAN ONLY BE PEACE, you realize, that allows a man to so mindlessly wish well on others and you hate him ever more for it. he becomes the embodiment of everything you ever lost, the precious moments slipped through calloused fingers when you have been too consumed by other vices. perhaps, he is not like you at all and it’s a reality you have to face when you sink deeper and deeper into the pits of something burning.
gluttonч ( temperαnce )
; the over – indulgence and over – consumption of anything to the point of waste.
PLAYLIST VI it’s one thing to lust, it’s one thing to want, and then there is one thing to not be able to stop. it is your ACHILLES’ HEEL, if anything; to not be able to quell it, to satiate the deep abyss inside. it does no longer matter who is on the other side of the table, all you can think about it over-taking and over-shadowing. as if an itch needing to be scratched, you can see how your arrogance is poisonous; how you emanate it and how it makes people repulse from you ... ----- but you can’t hinder it from oozing out, you can’t help but give him another reason to hate you.
he’s able to hold back, bite his tongue; make it slither and taste saccharine while you spit out anything you can think of. he seems to take pleasure in it ----- how could he not ? such amount self-control, did it not make him a god in every sense; omnipotent in the way the world moved around him because he did not let it rule him? while you fall victim to your own depth less desires, he reigns over you. every move calculated, every strength worn only reflecting your very own weaknesses. you hate him, you can swear that you hate him.
( you pray that it’s still hatred )
sloth ( dılıgence )
; a mind-state that gives rise to boredom, rancor, apathy, and finds expression in laziness, idleness, and indolence.
PLAYLIST VII what is the point, at the end of it all ? even when you begin to see things differently, when your mind clears up from no longer breathing the fumes of despise and jealously; you fail to see it . despite the truth speaking that you did not HAVE to be so unlike him, that the distance could be overcomed and the middle which have been alluded to could be met... ----- you cannot bring yourself to do it. you realize that the problem lies with you; your every pieces of skin lathered with the remnants of your crimes. wings lost, HALO TORN, and the revelation of how truly weak you are comes into the light.
while he is able to try, to pick himself up and continue reach out a feeble hand in your direction; it seems easier to push it away than to take it. you are too tired, the feat is far too big, the hate and disdain is too familiar and COMFORTABLE to leave behind... ---- so you stay, idleness becoming you, in the hole you have dug yourself. you can see the way out, see how he hands you a map and a shovel, but your hands seem to close around nothing when attempting to grab it. you are not meant to be friends, it’s easy to convince yourself of it down in the mud ; it seems like less work than trying to wash yourself clean.