#does this count as writing.. sure

[ctrl-alt-deleting-yr-face]

i adore thinking about reverie of rebirth and bedkari in general because god. they’re both fucked. both of these idiots are fucked

hikari never really recovered fully from romeo’s death. she managed to appear well established to others, but she was still violently unstable and grieving and unsure what to do without romeo. without the one person she knew. without her guiding light. he was torn away from them, and they want him back. and selfishly, she wants him back exactly the way he was. his body is still weak. it’s still branded with the tattoos that represented his accursed brain condition. his body and its physical state is exactly the way it was before he died. the only thing that’s different is the limiter she placed upon him with asuka’s help so he can stay awake without dying again. she wanted him exactly as she remembered him… not realizing that she would cause him harm by doing so.

romeo, in return, is spiteful and angry and remorseful that he’s here like this. he’s in pain mentally and physically but he’s too prideful to talk about it. he simply begins lashing out violently against the people he lives with— hikari especially. he’s meant to be dead, god damn it! he shouldn’t be here, body and mind slowly healing, witnessing the joy and love that’s shown to him by his sister and baiken and the goddamn yokai who he manipulated like a pavlov dog for his own game. it’s like he can feel the rot that should be there, the maggots behind his eyes. he feels like he’s controlling himself from behind a screen… and he isn’t even dreaming this time. he could grab hikari’s neck and choke her with his own two hands. curse her for bringing him back like this. but it was his fault, in a way. he made her admire him like this. he skewed her view and her emotions so hard, it’s no wonder she sees him like a prophet sees a god. but they’re still the one who did this… his head is foggy. he’s caught in this cognitive loophole that he can’t escape from. and all he can do is sleep, sit at that untuned piano that lies in the sunlight heavy room of this house, and scream his frustrations right back at hikari… who barely even flinches at it.

[a-most-beloved-fool]

Kira has a nightmare, one night when she's staying at the O'Brien's. Miles and Keiko, sleeping in the other room, don't hear her get up - but Molly does.

And Molly, being clever and kind, knows exactly what to do when someone has a nightmare. (Or, at least, she knows what her parents always do for her.) So she sits Kira down and brings her a glass of warm milk, and sits by her side as she drinks it.

Then, she takes Kira by the hand and leads her - to her parents bedroom. "I always sleep with mommy and daddy after a nightmare," she explains, when Kira stops outside the door. "It helps! Mommy chases the scary things away. And Daddy is warm."

"Molly," Kira says quietly, a little embarrassed, "I don't think your parents want me in their bed. Even if I did have a nightmare."

"No, they won't mind!" Molly assures.

Then, of course, Miles wakes up.

"Molly?" he asks, voice rough with sleep. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, but Miss Kira did!"

And now Keiko's awake, too, sitting up and saying, "Nerys? Are you alright?"

Mortified, Kira says, "Yes, I'm fine, I was just - on my way back to bed. Molly brought me here. I'm - sorry for waking you. I'll just be-"

"You can stay, if you want," Miles offers.

Kira doesn't quite think she heard him right. "What?"

"You can sleep here, if you think it might help," Keiko says.

"Or even if you don't!" Miles adds.

Kira opens her mouth, then closes it again. "I, uh-"

Keiko gets up, and takes Kira, gently, by the hand. Her palm is soft, Kira can't help but notice.

"Brr, it's freezing out here!" Keiko says, tugging Kira along. "You'd better get in before you catch your death of cold. Miles is practically a furnace, so you'll be nice and warm with us."

"And, Molly, you'd best go back to bed, too. You've got school in the morning," Miles says, as Keiko bundles Kira into the bed between them.

As Molly makes her way out, Keiko swings a lazy arm over Kira's back. "Sleep," she hums. "We'll be here in the morning."

Kira, feeling warm and cared for and more than a little overwhelmed, does.

[serpentface]

WARDI WRITTEN LANGUAGE (BASICS).

Couya's full name (properly 'Haidamane Couya') written formally and with common handwriting conventions.

The Wardi written language derives from earlier proto-language systems consisting exclusively of logograms without direct phonetic meaning or grammatical structure. These symbols gradually became simplified and abstracted to the point of many having little intrinsic clarity, and combined to communicate abstract concepts.

The development of a full written language did not occur independently (as very few written languages do), and its phonetic elements (namely its use of syllabograms) were largely derived the 'ancient' Burri writing system, gradually synthesized with native writing conventions, and in the contemporary forms a wholly distinct system. The language's Relatively universalized form is a very recent phenomena, developing within the past two centuries with the region's conquering/unification into a single entity.

The contemporary written language is a mixture of logograms and syllabograms. It is read from right to left and arranged in horizontal columns. The most formal variant of this system contains each character within a square outline, usually separated by a small space. This outline confers little phonetic or symbolic information beyond making distinction between syllables exceptionally clear, and can be (and often is) omitted in handwriting. The separation of words is conveyed through a narrow rectangle or line in formal contexts, and again often omitted in handwriting (instead indicated instead by a wider blank space).

The pure logograms that have been retained in this writing system tend to be those of very common words or specific concepts (most logogram characters for types of livestock, key crops, water, major body parts, etc are widely recognized and in common use). There has not yet been any attempts to fully 'formalize' the language and omit potentially unnecessary logograms, and they remain frequently used as shorthand while conveying the same semantic information.

Many of the syllabogram characters are directly derived from logograms that depicted monosyllabic words. For example, the spoken word 'gan' means 'cow', and the character for the syllable 'gan' is identical to the common logogram for 'cow'.

The name Gantoche (literally "cow-eye") could be written either fully with syllabograms as:

or through logograms as:

Both ultimately communicate the same meaning, but the former clarifies pronunciation (the words gan and atoche are contracted, it's gantoche and not gan-atoche).

It is a relatively easy written language to learn, as the pure syllabogram characters indicate their own pronunciation with little ambiguity and often have consistency to their construction (ie the character for the syllable 'man' contains most of the same elements as that for the syllable 'wan'- the dot placement in particular has indication of the vowel sounds).

The inclusion of logograms in general and many of the syllabic characters being directly imported From logograms complicates matters. These characters lack visual consistency, and can be confusing to the large swath of the public who know common logograms but not the full written language itself. Ie: the word 'ungande' meaning 'liver' will be composed of logogram-derived syllable characters for 'un' (which alone means 'hand') and 'gan' (which alone means 'cow'). Someone who is only semi-literate in common logograms may be confused at the meaning, especially since these same exact same characters may be used elsewhere on their own to indicate 'hand' or 'cow'.

One major exception to this tendency is that current religious doctrine requires established logogram characters describing God to be used in place of syllabic characters. The word for god is 'Od', and has its own unique character (as do each of the Faces, the capital F 'Face', and Its deified pronoun). The syllable 'od' [oʊd] is very common in the Wardi language, and a wholly separate character is used for the phonetic sound when it is not a reference to the deity (ie 'lion' (odo [oʊdoʊ]) does not contain the same character for God in spite of its first syllable having the exact same pronunciation). Names are a bit of a gray area (ie: the name 'Odabi' is very common and carries the meaning of 'gift/blessing from God'). Religious leadership is currently experiencing a mild schism on whether the written character for God is separated due to being wholly sacrosanct (and thus inappropriate to include in the written form of a personal name) or as more of a functional delineation of the sacred and mundane.

[star--stilinski]

Ahem…Stiles. *crowd erupts into applause and wolf whistles*

*you see me in the middle of the crowd, sobbing and smiling ear to ear as i applaud wildly. panning down, you take notice not only to my custom-made "team stiles" shirt (a twilight reference), but also to the cardboard cutout of 2014 dylan o'brien propped up in the chair next to me. there is a bowtie on the neck of the cutout to signal the reverence this event should be treated with. you are handed an award (cutout of 2014 dylan o'brien as well) and are escorted from the event with bodyguards so that the crowd does not trample you with their excitement. as you duck into the limo pulled up just for you, the interior comes into frame. every seat (except for yours) is occupied by a different, but equally attractive, stiles stilinski phase cardboard cutout. a single tear slips from your eye. you have changed the world today.*

[mllenugget]

I mean I’m just saying I’m surprised Baghera didn’t do a Baghera on this one

[arthursfuckinghat]

The long sleep loosens it's grip as your eyes flutter open. The warmth of sunlight kisses your skin, and a soft breeze combs through your hair, as if welcoming you back to a place you've always belonged.

You find yourself cushioned by the rustling grass around you, serving as a meal for horses in the distance. The chirping of birds and the trill of crickets create a nostalgic symphony from a time you can't quite remember.

You look up to the sky, eyes following the clouds to the outline of mountains that stretch before you. The view of New Hanover welcomes you.

The breath you didn't know you were holding is released, along with all the uncertainty it contained, you remember that you've been here before.

But this time, it feels like you're home.

[occidentaltourist]

bbc: Some sweet #Silvacre content for your FYP ❤️

[flickeringquip]

Convince the Fighter abstinence is bad for his health. There may be consequences(?) <<

A text continuation of this post, feat. @thedolmainblog's Blythe (shamelessly self-indulgent smut below the cut)

Your lips meet Blythe's a bit more forcefully than you intended, but you don't let that slow you down. You take advantage of his gasp to swipe your tongue against his own, hoping to entice him into responding.

Your knuckles turn white as your grip tightens on his shirt; you don't have a back-up plan to speak of, and frankly you're not sure you'd ever be able to look him in the eyes again if he shoves you away—

(1) And then he does move, but it's certainly not away.

In what feels like barely a few blinks, you find your positions almost completely reversed. You hear wood crack as it's kicked out of the way and internally thank your trusty crate for its service—

A firm thigh pushes between your own as warm hands slide over your ass with a squeeze, and then you get a taste of your own medicine as it's your gasp that's taken advantage of, this time.

(1) You don't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't quite this.

This being how you're pinned firmly to the concrete wall behind you, weight supported by the leg slotted between your own and the hands on your ass as every shift and squirm finds you inadvertently grinding down against Blythe's thigh — and making the most dreadfully embarrassing little noises that are only mostly muffled by the Fighter's own lips against your own.

Already you can feel the desire pulsing in your middle, can feel the heat building between your thighs with each of your little shifts and squirms, each squeeze of Blythe's hands as he kisses you like a man possessed.

(1) It's only when you break the kiss, feeling like you can't quite get enough air, that his attention shifts.

Those same lips trail down to your throat as his hands slide up to take a firmer hold of your hips — and this time there's nothing to muffle the moan that startles out of you when he sucks a bruising mark over your pulse and grinds you down harder against his thighs.

His echoing groan rumbles through you like a physical touch, tension winding hot and fast in your middle as Blythe guides your hips into a rolling rhythm against his leg — and fuck if the easy way he moves you doesn't make you burn all the hotter.

You lose a bit of time, then, losing yourself in the all-consuming onslaught of his affections. It's dizzying, overwhelming, and leaves you utterly unable to focus on anything other than him—

(1) Which leaves you caught entirely off-guard when you suddenly find yourself only scant seconds away from cumming.

"Blythe—" Your fingers fist tighter into his shirt, the only part of your positions that has remained the same, a shivery note to your voice you're unfamiliar with as your thighs squeeze around his own, not even aware of the faint quiver working its way down your spine, "W-wait a sec, I, I'm—"

Blythe, who most certainly did notice your little tremble, the way your breath begins to catch in your throat, the heat he can feel through both of your trousers—

"Cum," The order is as demanding as it is desperate, all but growled into your ear as he presses even closer, tilting your hips until the next roll of them has you loosing a stuttered cry, every inch of you going taut as a bowstring in his grasp, "Aster, cum."

(1) And really, what can you do but listen?

Pleasure crashes through you like a tidal wave, and you're only dimly aware of the lips slanting over yours to muffle noises you hadn't even realized you could make. Your body moves of its own volition, hips rocking jerkily against Blythe's thigh as you ride out your orgasm with mindless intent until you're finally spent.

You collapse against the Fighter's chest like a puppet with her strings cut, trembling all over as you try and catch your breath in the wake of such unexpected intensity. Just above you, Blythe makes a noise that nearly sounds pained, and it's jarring enough to have you lifting your cheek from his collar to peer up at him in somewhat bleary concern—

And then you're being moved again, faintly trembling hands no less strong as they hoist your legs up around his waist. You can't help but fidget, and Blythe responds by taking another half-step closer, leaving you pinned flush between him and the wall — and entirely unable to miss the firm bulge that grinds into your still-sensitive sex, hot enough to make you whine even through the layers of cloth between the two of you.

(1) "Again."

Time blurs again. You try to cling to your composure, but it's a battle you lose laughably quick when every rock of Blythe's hips sends frissons of heat shocking through you. The high-pitched little noises - nearly mewls - have you flushing bright enough to rival your hair, but it's blessedly easy to ignore, because—

Blythe seems fixated on wringing another orgasm from you just like this, grinding into you with laser-focused intensity, adapting real time to what pulls the best noises from you. Normally you'd feel a little bad at your lack of participation, but honestly it's all you can do to hang on for the ride, what with how determined the Fighter is on driving pesky little things like thoughts out of your head.

(1) Your next orgasm leaves you twice as breathless and shaky as the last, and you only just catch the muttering coming from above you.

"Not here, not here," Blythe all but chants the words, and the fingers flexing against your hips are your only warning before you find yourself plucked away from the wall, arms slipping instinctively around his neck as Blythe walks with a single-minded focus to. . . Somewhere? You get your answer when you find yourself set gently down upon a leather seat. It's Blythe's motorcycle; you've seen him on it a handful of times, but you've never been on one before. He hands you a helmet, waiting a little impatiently for you to put it on, and you're in enough of a daze from your unexpected - and successive - climaxes that you do so without even really thinking about it. He tightens it for you before getting on himself, reaching back to pull your arms around his waist, guiding you grab your opposite wrists before looking over his shoulder with a look caught somewhere between stern and feverish. "Hang on tight." (1) Why did no one tell you motorcycles vibrated so much?

End of Pt. 1(?)

[happypeachsludgeflower]

@ihavedonenothingright about Into The Shen Verse!! which, incidentally, also has the potential to be named “Shen-anigans: Into the Shenverse”

Who do you think would be the oldest? I’m making a family tree to start the fic planning, but I’m running into a wall and cannot figure out who has the most “Eldest Brother Energy”.

Shen Qiao is the obvious second brother. Thousand Autumns makes a point to always place him second. It basically writes itself there.

Shen Yuan was the third son in his family as stated in SVSSS which also slots in well here. And Shen Yuhua from Daughter of a Thousand Faces was the youngest child which also fits in nicely here, with the fact that Shen Yuan had a younger sister.

I’d add Shen Jiu (also from SVSSS) to the sibling set, but for the plot I have in mind, he fits either as a cousin or not at all. Also, with his childhood relationship with Yue Qi, he often gives off second brother/youngest sibling energy.

I do not have enough context on the other Shen’s just yet to slot them in. I’ve done a cursory search on each of them, but am still uncertain.

Shen Wei seems to have the most Big Brother Energy going for him, but he has a twin bother Ye Zun and would be difficult to slot into the eldest brother unless I just.. deleted his brother from the story entirely.

Shen Zechuan is the eight common born son and even in his adopted family is the younger brother. He is like, the babiest of all the Shen boys. And probably best as a cousin to the aforementioned lineup.

I can’t find a wiki on The Silent Concubine but I AM VERY ENTHUSIASIC ABOUT THE PLOT SUMMARY AND SHALL BE BINGING IT TONIGHT!! And from the summary, he is also fighting Shen Zechuan for the Babiest Shen Award.

As for Gu Yan, he is being adopted into the family. I cannot think of a reason he’d be born into it and given the name Gu Yan only to change it to Shen Shiliu later. He does however seem to have some semblance of elder brother potential. At least in comparison to the other candidates. He was a military commander. Which doesn’t necessarily make him elder brother material (I genuinely don’t know since I haven’t read more than the wiki) but most of our other contenders so far are canonically youngest siblings. Maybe he can be adopted before Shen Qiao is born??

Shen Li (and her mentor Shen Muyue) from Legend of Shen Li is absolutely a good addition to the family, but she unfortunately is not a contender for the oldest brother.

I considered switching Shen Li out with Shen Yuhua for the youngest sister since Shen Yuhua has extensive family in canon, but decided to keep Shen Yuhua as an adopted child. The Shen’s mayhaps kidnapped her from her family (who can be another branch of the Shen family and therefore she’s biologically a cousin) that didn’t care for her anyway after her mother’s demise.. she deserves a nice family besides her bestie Swallowtail. And from what I can tell from the brief Wikipedia article I found on Shen Li, she seems to have bamf older sister energy. I’ll have to watch it to know for sure though.

Anywho, our main contenders seem to be Gu Yan (who would be adopted), Shen Wei (but idk where I’d put his twin Ye Zun), or Shen Jiu (who we could explain away the younger sibling energy by him having a childhood friend that babied him).

Feel free to add other contenders in the comments.

[willowwormwood]

I already did the character sheet for Morrigan, this time tried it for my character Fetcher. Honestly he was easier to draw in the Rise of the TMNT art style than I thought he would be.

If you wanna read my cringe self indulgent ramblings about how I think he'd fit in the world, its below the cut (also I've only seen Season 1 and the movie so sorry if this is somehow already a plotline or very similar to another character idk)

Alright I picture Fetcher starting out as a get-away driver for some of the bad guys of the city, doesn't like his job but he needs the money, and he's good at it, (and that could cause issues and conflict later yippee). He's half yokai, half human, kinda living off on the side of both worlds, he's pretty familiar with navigating both worlds but isn't particularly close with anyone from either, feeling a bit of an outsider.

I think Fetcher would probably get involved with the team through Mikey. I figure it could also partially be a result of Mikey wanting more independence (like with the episode of his solo mission), seeking out a friend outside the group (kinda similar dynamic to Raph with paper soldier Buddy, and April with Sunita). I think they would be foils with that since in Fetcher's case he's probably had *too much* independence, being a kid who's not had a lot of guidance and it's gotten himself in a rough spot working as a get-away driver. But on both Mikey and Fetcher's part they'd both have that similar feeling of needing to prove themselves.

I figure for an actual short story plotline, Mikey probably talks up the turtle tank after seeing how much Fetcher is attached to his own car (which I imagine would be all decked out with stuff since he's a getaway-driver), Fetcher's immediately enamored and wants to see the tank, Mikey wants to impress so he goes to get it. Mikey doesn't want to involve his brothers, so at first he asks to borrow it which gets a resounding NO from the whole group, so shenanigans ensue when he decides to steal the tank from Donnie.

Mikey tries driving the tank himself, obviously it goes badly and it results in the brothers having to chase him down with the help of Fetcher to stop the tank from causing chaos in the city.

I think at the end when they do finally get the tank under control and get Mikey out, there could be a nice moment with Mikey admitting the tank isn't his, (and he doesn't know how to drive it on his own), and he did it cause he wanted to impress Fetcher since he has a cool car and wanted to seem like he had one too, and Fetcher seems to really enjoy talking stuff like that. And Fetcher can share understanding that feeling of needing to prove something, and getting in over his head because of it, but reassuring there's nothing to prove. Plus there could be a moment of Mikey and the brothers talking about Mikey wanting independence being the youngest brother vs being kinda naive at times.

And idk then Fetcher can geek out over the turtle tank in the background and blabber to Donnie about it, that'd be fun.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Merovar elbowed Link. “So… you guys have been dating for like a year. What’s the deal?”

Link looked at him uncertainly. “The… deal, Your Highness?”

The prince rolled his eyes. “Okay, first of all, calling me Your Highness was fine when we didn’t know each other as well, but that’s not the case anymore. You can call me Merovar now, you know. Secondly, you know what I’m talking about – you don’t just date people for no reason. You gonna make the next move or just figure out that you two want to be friends?”

“We are friends,” Link argued, growing flustered, cheeks staining red.

Merovar hummed, stopping his walk to give the warrior his full attention. “So are you going to commit or just play with my sister’s emotions?”

Link’s face shifted, embarrassment hardening, surprise and indignation mixing at the accusation. He swallowed, pushing down the emotions and trying to stay calm. “I… am not sure such a commitment would be approved.”

“But you want to,” Merovar pushed, raising an eyebrow.

Link’s blush returned and he nodded, wanting to look anywhere but in the prince’s intense gaze, but knowing to hold the eye contact.

Merovar watched him a moment longer before laughing. “Well, Mother loves you, so that makes it simple. If you’re worried about our father, don’t be. He’s got a tough exterior, but I can tell when he does or doesn’t like someone. And he likes you.”

Link… wasn’t sure why that statement made him suddenly shaky, but it did. It was hard enough to believe that the Gerudo queen approved of him, as they hadn’t interacted all that much, but she seemed like a warm, if intense, woman. It shouldn’t be surprising that she could be agreeable to… but such a commitment… and… but what about the Lord of the Gerudo? He wasn’t scared of Ganondorf, so what was going on with him? Was it… maybe it was relief? His chest warmed, like a hearty stew spreading all the way to his fingers and toes, but he still felt a little weak at the knees.

He… likes me?

He’d never… he’d never gotten a man’s approval before. Not one that he…

Get a hold of yourself, he chided himself. You’ve never had father figures that care about you.

But Merovar was implying it. They’d all be his family if he… if he married…

Golden Three, thinking about marrying Hemisi made Link want to burst with emotions. He loved her. He loved her. But what would such a life look like? Hemisi was a princess. Link was just a Sheikah guard. And how would that affect his duties to the royal family?

Well, Ganondorf and Nabooru were trying to establish relations with the kingdom. Maybe it wouldn’t be a problem at all.

Link wondered what his people would think of such a union. He swallowed back fear and bitterness, tried to ignore the whispers he’d heard as a child. Not all of his people had disapproved of his existence, after all.

But there had been enough who’d said it. Who’d thought Link was his father’s biggest mistake. He’d tried his entire life to prove them wrong, to fulfill his duties as a Sheikah.

Link felt sick all of a sudden, leaning against a nearby wall. Merovar stepped closer to him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he choked out. “I’ll be fine.”

He would be. He always was. He made sure of it. He would find a way to make this work. He just wasn’t sure he was ready to say it out loud yet. He wanted… he didn’t want to stop being with Hemisi. And maybe… maybe the Gerudo would…

Link squeezed his eyes closed, ignoring the coming headache. He wouldn’t abandon his people just because of the promise of love and comfort. That was childish. He… he wasn’t sure what he would do.

But goddess, he wanted to be part of their family. Goddess, he wanted to be with Hemisi forever.

Maybe someday he’d find a way to make it work.

[yvesdot]

My "Album of the Year" writeup for SOPHIE (2024) is up now on r/popheads.

This album is the midnight zone, the abyss of space, the darkness of the club and of making love with the lights off and of a good night’s rest when all is done. In the darkness you feel less self-conscious, unable to see yourself or anyone around you; paradoxically, this makes it easy to dance closer, to be intimate with your lover, to rest in their arms. Darkness is the exhilaration of freefall and the safety of a blanket over your head. Darkness is the dome we are protected by; it’s both where we come from and where we are all going. It is “the cradle of [our] civilization… the cradle of all times.” That isn’t to say that darkness cannot also be frightening on this album. “Intro (The Real Horror),” for example, is incredibly menacing. But the foreboding nature of the darkness here feels almost kinky; it’s scary the way a good domme is scary. SOPHIE recontextualizes black, darkness, and dominance as feminine, almost motherly—in a mommy kink sort of way. When Nina on “The Dome’s Protection” says “stop,” you stop. When she says “let’s go,” you go. There is a comfort in the simplicity, the certainty of the command. A latex-gloved hand may force your chin up, but it also gives you somewhere to rest your head.  In both manifesting and embodying this kind of comforting darkness, SOPHIE at once creates and is a comfortable space for all of us to process what has happened. Just as darkness is an essential part of comfort, so is loss an essential part of love. Time moves forward. You find a way to live, to dance. A rabbi’s advice on grief: imagine you were told in advance that your beloved could only be here for a limited amount of time, and asked whether you still wanted them. Would you wish they had never existed in your life, or would you accept them, and the loss, and be grateful for every moment thereafter? I have never met someone, no matter the profundity of their pain, who chooses the former. SOPHIE was so special, and we were so lucky to have her as long as we did. I view this album as Jia Tolentino does: a last gift.

I’m so grateful for the opportunity to have done this writeup. You’ve definitely heard of the saying that a person dies twice—once when they die physically, then a final time when their name is no longer spoken aloud. In that sense, I don’t believe SOPHIE ever will truly die, but it means the world to be a part of that immortality. Additionally, in 2023 I wrote a short (18+) fiction piece about pop girls inspired in part by the emotions and ideas SOPHIE always gave me when I heard her music. You can also check out my recommendations for musical tributes to SOPHIE in the comments under this writeup.

Support the author: all fiction | book | ko-fi | Patreon

[cerusee]

Finally finished Goodbye My Princess and I was not expecting a happy ending—this show famously does not have a happy ending, and I knew it going in—but the ending still gutted me like a fish and had me openly weeping. (Normally when I say a piece of media made me cry, I mean, “I actually teared up a little”. Not this time! Full on ugly sobbing! A lingering sense of devastation even a couple of hours later!)

I assumed at first it was going to end on that shot of Li Chengyin’s face when Xiaofeng’s brother carries her lifeless body away, which would honestly have been bad enough. But somehow, what really pushed it over the edge for me was the coda, where LCY has, decades later, voluntarily abdicated to make way for his successor. It’s clearly the end of a lengthy tenure as emperor, and maybe even a good one, since they make a point of mentioning that it’s the first peaceful transfer of power in generations (a marked difference from the bloody succession struggle Chengyin and his brothers endured) and Pei Zhao is notably still hanging around.

But LCY is still pining for his lost Xiaofeng, and has either recent,y developed the delusion that she’s not dead, or has been clinging to that delusion ever since he watched her slit her throat in front of him and then die in his arms (straight up I do not know which is worse), and is now going to spend what remains of his life wandering in the desert searching for a woman who is forever lost to him. What was it all for, LCY? Was it worth it? (Maybe it was! I think it’s implied he was actually a decent emperor and he’s leaving the place in better condition than he found it.) But worth it or not, he’s never gotten over the price he paid for all this, never known true contentment, never stopped searching and waiting and longing for Xiaofeng in his heart. Oh my god.

[yarrowleef]

did anyone else know The Last Unicorn had a sequel??? i didn't know that

anyway, i want whatever tf molly grue and shmendrick have going on

[mountain--bones]

4/11: They Lament, But We Rejoice

(Some personal ramblings which also can function as day 1 of the Sol System's Alterhuman Writing Challenge!)

While I was showering yesterday I, as I often do, got lost in thought. I was thinking about myself and the path my life has taken, and how I've learned to relate to myself in a holistic way – flaws and all.

As I was thinking, I remembered some lyrics to a song I'd heard, but I couldn't remember the rest of the song or what it was called.

"'Cause when I saw my demons I knew them well and welcomed them"

This idea resonates with me a lot. Partially, it resonates in terms of my personality; I try my very best to accept the flaws in myself, and find the value in what they represent and connect to in my holistic self.

But, even more so, it's very easy to see my nonhuman self in this. I've come to understand that I am, at my core, something monstrous. I've related that inner, spiritual self to many different things before – a deity, an eldritch beast, an ancient spirit – but one of the first things I found myself thinking of it as was a demon.

I didn't think of it as demonic in a religious sense; it was more that it struck me as deeply, almost intrinsically adversarial to many of the things which are valued in the mainstream spirituality of western culture. It was chaos, animality, instinct, decomposition, death. And so: a demon.

When I found my demon, I knew it well, and welcomed it.

Given the melody of the song, it was pretty clear that the intended message was not one of radical reclamation of a self that would conventionally be considered abhorrent. So then I was curious – what's it really about?

And that's what made this so impactful and fascinating to me.

The song is The Lament of Eustace Scrubb, by the Oh Hellos.

Eustace Scrubb. If there's any character that stands out as an impactful early influence on my nonhumanity, it's Eustace Scrubb. But what's funny is how for me (and I'm sure a lot of other nonhuman folks), Eustace Scrubb is a character who represented an enigma – a contradiction to something which I so fervently craved.

For those who aren't familiar, Eustace Scrubb is a character from the Chronicles of Narnia whose selfishness led him to be turned into a dragon. And he hates it. He's so miserable about being a dragon instead of the boy he's meant to be. I couldn't understand it as a kid. Why would he hate being a dragon? Why would he want to be human?

The Lament of Eustace Scrubb is a song which was symbolically inspired by the struggle of this character – a lament about the loss of some valuable, sacred aspect of humanity, beneath layers of flaws and faults.

Here's the full lyrics.

Brother, forgive me We both know I'm the one to blame 'Cause when I saw my demons I knew them well and welcomed them I knew them well and welcomed them

But I'll come around I'll come around

Father, have mercy I know that I have gone astray 'Cause when I saw my reflection It was a stranger beneath my face It was a stranger beneath my face

But I'll come around I'll come around Someday

When I touch the water They tell me I could be set free

It's very easy, given context, to see the Christian themes here – especially given than the Chronicles of Narnia are also a deeply, explicitly Christian work.

But that just makes it more interesting how, reading these lyrics in the way I naturally want to in spite of the context, I find a meaning in them that's entirely opposite to what's intended – one that's positive and healing.

When I saw my demons, I knew them well and welcomed them.

When I saw the parts of myself that were unacceptable in society's eyes, instead of shunning them, I reached out. I offered them a welcoming hand. To embrace myself in a genuine way has always been more important than following along with what I'm told is "right".

Brother, forgive me – humanity, forgive me – because when I saw the monster inside me, I turned from humanity without a second thought, and without a single regret. The "demon" in me opened my eyes, set me free from rules and structures and beliefs which I never belonged or fit within.

I chose the monster over my humanity. I don't need humanity to forgive me for that, but there's something striking about the idea of regret. Not the regret of my path, or who I am; just a quiet regretfulness to betray something which utterly needed to be betrayed.

'Cause when I saw my reflection It was a stranger beneath my face

My reflection shows a human face. The stranger underneath – the self that I had never been allowed to be. It was a stranger to me, at first. I didn't know myself, because I had never been taught how to. I'd been taught how to speak and how to act, and all that ever amounted to was layers and layers of masks, obscuring the heart of me underneath them.

The grief here, for me, isn't that the stranger is inhuman. The grief is that the deepest part of me, that lay beneath the facade, was a stranger. That I didn't recognise my true self underneath, because it was hidden by the body showed in my reflection, and all the different ways I'd been taught to act as I "should" in a body like this.

When I touch the water They tell me I could be set free

A reflection in a pool. The surface shows a human face, but there's something stranger underneath it.

Touch the water. Break the reflection. Free the you which you've never let yourself be.

See what I'm saying here?

It's striking because this is so completely not what is intended by the lyrics of this song, and yet it forms such a meaningful picture of what nonhumanity is to me. It's striking because, like the story of Eustace Scrubb, there's joy and freedom and actualisation found in a concept that is presented as, and intended to be, something horrible.

The inhumanity is supposed to be a curse.

But for me, embracing my nonhuman self – welcoming my demons, the stranger in my reflection – was a release from a curse that I didn't know I was burdened with.

There's something deeply poignant in here for me. Something which felt worth writing about.

[dkettchen]

Brennan: in the mountains of Luxembourg

me, from Luxembourg: *gets jumpscared*

me: mf we ain't got mountains in Luxembourg