#doing fucking nothing productive

[spoondrifts]

starting to get really frustrated with this writer's block bullshit

[hivemindscape]

im a big fan of esper powers slipping loose in harmless ways when they're happy

[daily-joel-smallishbeans]

day 25. well . this is awkward .

[hella1975]

when ur local artist mutual starts the 'This Time i really have lost the ability to do my art and it's Not coming back' that is of course untrue and it will come back and their insecurity is getting the better of them etc etc. not me tho i really have lost it forever

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Power Play (Imprisoning War)

Zelda couldn’t really get a moment’s peace, and it was starting to drive her a little insane today.

With the war over, she’d developed new daily habits and schedules. Some rituals from the war bled over, such as her morning meeting with her council, gathering information on the events around Hyrule. During the war, she’d spend the next few hours discussing matters with the war council, but as that was no longer an issue, she spent the remainder of her morning allowing her people to have an audience with her. The nobles typically were there as well, watching and waiting for opportunities, and they would swarm her by midday. Her court would gobble up the rest of her time, and by evening she was exhausted.

Her pregnancy had not helped matters.

Mornings were spent trying not to throw up while she received news of her kingdom. She’d nearly grown hysterical when someone from House Laruson had tried to talk to her. She’d already snapped at Impa earlier for no apparent reason.

She didn’t even know who she was anymore. Her body didn’t feel like her own. She’d only just barely started to show signs of the life she was growing, and it was both magical and terrifying.

She wondered if this was how her mother felt. Probably not. Her mother had hardly been queen for more than a few months, and she’d married into the royal family, so it wasn’t the same. But she wondered if her pregnancy had felt like this.

Would Zelda die too from giving birth? Would she bleed as her mother had?

And now that she could no longer hide her pregnancy from the world, she felt even more vulnerable and terrified.

She hated feeling this scared. She hated having to find somewhere to hide every few hours so she could cry. She hadn’t even had the chance to do that today, simply faking a cough or a sneeze to hide her face long enough to wipe the tears away. A member of House Serenne had kindly offered that perhaps she should take time off until she was capable of fulfilling her duties again, had kindly said his house would happily take up the slack.

As if they needed any more excuse to claim more power.

When Zelda rounded the corner, frazzled and angry and dizzy as she was, she nearly ran into Impa yet again.

She burst into tears.

Her closest advisor stared at her a moment, blinking, eyes wide, and Zelda wanted to just lock herself in a closet. Lady Impa pulled out a handkerchief, handing it gently to the queen, who buried her face in it.

“Your Majesty, let’s go outside,” the Sheikah chief advised.

Zelda listened, sniffling and trying to get herself together as she was guided outdoors. She wasn’t entirely sure where Impa was taking her, but they seemed to walk for quite some time. Her world was spinning, and she stumbled a little on the last few steps, feet slipping out of her sandals. It was blessedly cool out, as the days had grown stiflingly hot from summer, making the castle nearly unbearable sometimes in the throne room. She had almost foregone wearing the tan fabric that draped over her light blue sleeveless dress. She was surprised the skin paint on her arms hadn’t started to drip away with her sweat. But out here, the breeze blew gently, a cool relief, and her desperate, quiet sobs turned to hiccups.

When they finally stopped, Zelda wiped her face with the handkerchief and looked up. They were in one of the more secluded gardens of the castle, an area that she had sometimes visited with her father in the rare moments they’d actually spent time in the same space before the war. It had been one of his favorite spots. A small fountain sat in the center of the space, which was sequestered from the rest of the gardens by a gate, and flower bushes of all sorts lined the area in a circular pattern, making it an enclosed nesting place for fuzzy buzzing insects and all kinds of birds. The sound of trickling water filled her mind, filtering out the words of everyone clawing for her attention and power all day, and birdsong filled the air. The sky was pink and gold, a last sigh of light from the sun, dying embers fading beyond the castle walls as night came to take over and bring an end to her miserable day.

Zelda found the stone bench where her father used to sit, and she started crying again.

Impa put a hand on her shoulder, and Zelda immediately turned to her, burying her face in the woman’s neck. Impa’s hand slid to her back, the other carefully cupping the back of her head, and she just held her as the eighteen-year-old queen finally just let down her barriers and wept uncontrollably.

She wished she could talk to her father. He had never really been one to give her advice on anything, but he had always listened… at least before the war.

Maybe she was just being stupid. She just wanted to keep being held and cry until she didn’t have the energy to move.

But she couldn’t sit still that long. She was queen, and if she didn’t step up, someone else would. Someone who was undeserving, someone who craved power and control, someone she couldn’t afford to let anywhere near her people or her kingdom. Zelda had to keep everything and everyone in line.

It was just getting harder to do, and she felt lonelier every day.

At least she had Impa.

She wished she had Link too. She hadn’t seen him for over a week, at a dinner celebrating the completion of one of the restoration projects. It was a smaller one, but Zelda had thought it worth celebrating any victory they could have. Link had barely spoken, but he’d kept a careful eye on her the entire night; at the time, he was one of a select few who knew she was pregnant.

“What’s wrong, Zelda?” Lady Impa asked softly.

Zelda hiccuped, realizing she really had just sobbed on the poor woman with no context whatsoever. It almost made her laugh, but embarrassment won out.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, pulling away, feeling like a disaster. “I—it’s nothing.”

Honestly, she would have been better off saying nothing than such a pathetic excuse for a lie. She was fairly certain her unborn child could have done a better job of trying to brush off the issue.

To her credit, Lady Impa knew better than to push, giving Zelda a moment to take a breath. She didn’t feel comfortable confiding everything in the woman, despite how completely trustworthy she was – Zelda had never truly confided in anyone. She’d gotten close with Impa and Link, but ever since the wedding she’d steadily felt a growing sting of betrayal towards Link. It just… didn’t sit right with her, the way he refused to step up and do his duty.

Well, he had stepped up in some ways. He’d helped her create this child, after all. But she’d had to order him and drag him to everything and anything else. She was growing tired of it and hadn’t bothered tracking him down in the last week.

She was beginning to wonder if he even cared.

But she couldn’t say such things to Impa. As much as she wanted to, she knew Lady Impa also loved Link. Perhaps she could offer insight on the matter, but…

But Zelda didn’t want to get into it. She just wanted it to be resolved. Sighing, she simply said, “I have a lot on my mind, and this pregnancy… well, I don’t really have any frame of reference for it. I don’t know what’s normal and what isn’t, and it’s… scaring me a little.”

At least she was being honest about that. And the Sheikah chief smiled a little, offering, “I can have one of the midwives of Kakariko come speak with you, if you like.”

Honestly… she would like that. She wasn’t sure if it would make her more anxious or less, but at least it would offer her information. She hated being in the dark like this, out of control and blind. She nodded, feeling a little better. “Yes, thank you. I… I would like that.”

With that, the queen rose, feeling a little more like herself, tears drying in the breeze. She had one more matter to attend to today, and then she would go to her bedchamber and rest. Lady Impa gave her one last reassuring smile before saying she would speak to her people on the matter this evening.

As Zelda walked the halls alone, the last vestiges of dusk spilled into one of the training courtyards, glimmering on blades as they clashed.

Link panted as he looked down at his opponent. His dulled training blade had made quick work of the man, chipping at his armor and knocking him to the cobblestone. The soldier huffed as the others cheered for the king consort.

One of the few Sheikah in the area, Simek, approached. “That should be enough for the day, Your Majesty. I believe you defeated all of the contenders.”

Link felt like he’d hardly done as much, but the ache in his bad leg indicated he might actually need to take a break; it hardly ever bothered him unless he overexerted himself. Sighing, he sheathed the training sword, backing away as the soldier dusted himself off and stood.

He’d been sparring since noon. He supposed that made it a good day. At least he’d managed to get outside.

He wondered how long he could sustain a life like this, where his primary benchmark that it had been a success was that he’d managed to get out of bed. He shook his head, disgusted with himself, and walked indoors, mood souring.

Maybe a bath would help him feel a little better. Or he should probably check on Zelda; despite avoiding her immediately after their marriage, he’d tried to ensure she was safe once he’d found out about the baby. He swore he’d heard the servants speaking of the queen’s pregnancy. Was it finally showing?

He wasn’t… he wasn’t sure he wanted to see her, then. Anxiety filled his stomach, making him nauseous. He shook his head, though, trying to push beyond it. He was being more than pathetic, he was being downright childish.

He didn’t understand why it was getting harder every day to just function, why he was feeling steadily more trapped as the reality of his situation truly settled in, and he hated it.

Sighing, he rubbed dirt and sweat off his forehead and wandered the halls aimlessly. He wasn’t entirely sure which direction he was going, and he paused, trying to reorient himself.

Something nagged him all of a sudden, as if he were forgetting to do a task, or had misplaced something. He looked around and stared when he caught notice of it.

The hallway was empty.

“Your Majesty?”

Startled, Link turned around hastily, feeling on edge. A guard watched him, and then said, “Your Majesty, Queen Zelda requests your presence in the throne room.”

Off balance, Link nodded, moving to follow the guard towards the center of the castle.

It was nighttime. Why was Zelda in the throne room? Was she okay?

This hallway was empty.

No castle hallway was empty. One to two guards always flanked an entrance to each corridor, the number varying based on the location. Link had spent hours of time doing such assignments for years as a castle guard.

Link froze.

The guard turned. “Your Majesty? Is everything all right?”

“Where are the guards?” Link asked, voice heavy.

The soldier blinked, eyes darting around the area. “The… guards, sire? I’m right here.”

“Why does the queen want me?” Link continued, taking a calculated step towards the Hylian.

“I’m not sure, Your Majesty,” the guard answered, facing him more fully. He had stiffened his posture.

He was gearing up for a fight.

Link crouched quickly, reaching for the knife he hid in his boot. He moved fast enough to catch the man off guard, but the soldier still drew his blade as Link darted toward him. The knife dug in easily between plates of armor, making the man gasp and fall to the ground.

Adrenaline rushed through him like ice, and then he burst into motion.

Zelda. I have to get to her.

He knew where she definitely wasn’t – the guard wouldn’t have been trying to guide him to her if he wanted her dead. The throne room was either an ambush or a ruse, but no matter what, Zelda wasn’t there.

How many people were involved in this? Where were the guards who were supposed to be there?

Link tore down the hallway to find the usual regimen of soldiers in the halls once more, and his panic downgraded a hair, long enough for him to realize this couldn’t be across the entire castle. He demanded, “Where’s the queen?”

The soldiers jumped, caught off guard, and one reported, “I believe she’s going to her quarters, sire—”

That was all Link needed. He rushed ahead.

Meanwhile, Zelda had finally sat heavily on the chair in front of her vanity, slowly wiping away skin paint as she tried to unwind for the day. One of her servants approached, but she dismissed her with a wave and request, just wanting to be alone.

The maid didn’t leave.

Across the castle, Impa received a report that two Hylian guards had been found dead, tucked away in a closet. Simek reported in that he’d been trying to find Link and instead found another guard down with Link’s knife in his abdomen. The guard himself had pulled the blade out when Simek had demanded to know what was going on, bleeding to death quickly.

Which meant it was an assassin.

The Sheikah were placed on high alert, and Impa immediately ordered for the king and queen to be found.

It was easy to find the king, at least, as he shoved his way through anyone in his path, but impossible to keep up with him.

As for the queen, Zelda slowly turned to the maid, directly saying, “I told you to leave.”

The maid didn’t speak, drawing closer as she reached into her sleeve, and Zelda felt her heart jump into her throat. She rose quickly, toppling over the chair she’d been sitting on, warm magic at her fingers as she cast a familiar barrier between herself and the attacker, who had brandished a blade in the time it had taken her to cast the spell. It was sloppily formed, and without the extra help of the Triforce of Wisdom to boost its power, it might not even last long.

This attacker was not Ganondorf, though. She did not wield a Triforce piece, nor have enough magic to destroy the castle. In fact, she looked surprised that Zelda had used any magic at all.

Nevertheless, she started to slash at the barrier, not interested in using Zelda as bait like Ganondorf had months ago. Instead, she wore on the magic’s defenses, and Zelda gasped as the barrier shattered.

“Zelda!”

The voice was distant but distinct, and it might as well have been a deliverance right then and there with the relief the queen felt. “Link! Link, I’m in my room, come q—”

Zelda screamed as her attacker brought her blade (was that a scimitar?!) down on her, but the door burst open, and Link had a guardian sword tearing into the woman’s chest before she could finish the blow. Zelda looked away, horrified, still seeing the glow of the Sheikah weapon in her peripheral vision until Link retracted it. The imposter fell to the floor with a loud thud.

Her husband was at her side in an instant, hands on her shoulders, red eyes searching her from head to toe. “Are you hurt?”

Zelda shook her head, breathless and terrified, and she reached for him, holding him and trembling. He reciprocated the hug tightly, but she could feel his head turning as he continued to watch their surroundings.

“Are there more?” She asked, voice shaking.

Footsteps approached, and Link released her in an instant, positioning her behind him protectively as he drew his sword once more, but only Sheikah entered the room, followed swiftly by Lady Impa.

“There’s a fake guard,” Link immediately said. “Down in—”

“Simek found him,” Lady Impa confirmed, nodding. “But he killed himself before we could interrogate him.”

“Are they Gerudo?” One of the Sheikah asked, glancing at the attacker’s weapon.

“What?” Link hissed, looking at the floor. He kicked the attacker’s body, shoving her on to her back with his boot, and looked her over. “She doesn’t look remotely Gerudo. Whoever planned this, they were going to leave this sword here to frame them.”

“Don’t be so hasty to come to conclusions—” Simek tried to say, but Link snapped, cutting him off.

“This wasn’t the Gerudo, they aren’t this sloppy. Do you not recall their assault to steal the Triforce? When they plan a mission, it’s far more organized than this.”

Zelda didn’t know what was happening. She just wanted it to be over. Her hand rested over her abdomen, heart racing.

Link’s face was flushed, red eyes murderous as he looked around the room and focused on the attacker once more. She hadn’t seen him this worked up or focused since they’d fought Ganondorf. But his gaze softened when he looked at her once more, though only to an extent. Rage turned to analysis, examining her again, tinged with worry, before he turned to Lady Impa. “Gather the bodies. I’ll meet you in the council room. We need to figure out who did this. Simek, take five men and guard her.”

“No,” Zelda said suddenly, trying to take control of what had happened. “I—I’ll go with you. We can figure this out together.”

Link watched her a moment, face stony, but he didn’t argue. Nodding, he motioned for her to stay close to him. She obliged, her mind and heart racing.

How had—what had—how did they even get into the castle—

She tried to center herself, tried to look at this as a puzzle instead of a terrifying attempt on her life, on her baby’s life.

Goddesses. The baby.

“They’re doing this because I’m pregnant,” she whispered shakily, hands going to her child protectively.

“News hasn’t traveled that quickly, has it?” Simek asked.

“Not fast enough to leave Castle Town, I don’t think,” Lady Impa muttered. “There could be many reasons for this attack.”

Link and Zelda exchanged a look as the Sheikah elders deliberated the matter. Understanding settled between them, the same kind that they used to share during the war.

The nobles.

It was a bold accusation to make, and one that would need very hard evidence. Zelda wasn’t sure they would even be able to get such evidence from two dead bodies and no other leads. The issue became more apparent as they discussed possibilities in the council room. Every single noble house had an alibi, based on the information Lady Impa could gather.

Simek was convinced it was Gerudo spies who had managed to get the information to their chief. Link shot the idea down every time. Zelda herself knew it was possible, but not very likely. After all, though she did not know Hemisi very well, there were a few things she could glean that immediately shut down any argument about it being a Gerudo attack.

Most notably, Hemisi was a woman of action. She would do this herself rather than send someone. If she were to use an assassin, though, she would have warned the attackers about Zelda’s magic, and most especially about Link’s fighting prowess.

These attackers had managed to infiltrate the castle and set themselves up in the perfect places, but they hadn’t been prepared enough. They had underestimated Zelda’s ability to defend herself, and they had assumed Link would just go along with the guard’s ploy blindly.

This reeked of the nobility’s folly and arrogance. Zelda could tell just from the assumptions made behind the maneuvers. Link could tell from the sloppiness of the assault.

Despite both monarchs pointing this out, though, Lady Impa made a statement they couldn’t counter.

“No one will ever believe such accusations without adequate proof, not just deductions. If you arrest a noble, assuming you could figure out which one staged it, it would look like tyranny.”

Link bit his lip, cheeks flushing in frustration. Zelda felt similarly, but she understood the politics of the matter far better. Still, she could at least say, “An attack is an attack, though. We will increase security so they do not get a chance to try again. Lady Impa, I trust you can be discreet and watch them?”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed, eyes hard. “I will call back the Sheikah from the field. Your security is a priority.”

Zelda swallowed, not quite sure she wanted all the forces she’d sent out to return, but far too scared for her child’s safety to argue. Was this the true purpose, she wondered? Stalling reinforcing Hyrule’s crippled military?

What was there to gain from such folly? The nobles were far more paranoid about the Gerudo than Zelda was.

It was far more likely they simply thought the assassination attempt would actually succeed. Zelda shuddered thinking about it.

“We’ll dispose of the bodies,” Simek finally said as the meeting was coming to an end.

“No,” Link ordered, standing. “I will handle the bodies.”

Before Zelda could question the matter, he turned to her. “Get some rest. Lady Impa will guard you.”

For a moment, Zelda didn’t know what to do. Link was hardly ever this decisive and calculated, certainly not in the months since their marriage. She felt hope glimmer in her heart, a faith restored in him that had been fracturing. She nodded. “Okay.”

As the queen was escorted back to her quarters, which had been tidied up in her absence, Link fumed, marching towards the place where the bodies were being held.

He knew the nobles were power hungry and selfish. He knew that. But to think they would make an attempt on the queen’s life, on her unborn child and heir. Of course they would try now, when they thought she was most vulnerable, when Link was quiet and sticking to the shadows, barely able to get out of bed, hardly noticed by the public.

After giving up his freedom to save Hyrule, there were still enemies who would dare try to harm others. And they were Hylians.

He wasn’t sure if he hated them as much as Ganondorf, or if he would need more time to nurture such a disdain.

Do you actually hate him, though?

Link jerked his head in a violent attempt to shake the thought. Of course he did. And it didn’t matter anymore, anyway.

What mattered was sending a message. The queen’s hands were tied, but Link’s were not.

In the morning, the queen’s court slowly trickled its way into the throne room. Daylight spilled in through the large windows, shining on armor, illuminating symbols of Hyrule’s history and royal family. People squinted as the sun stung their eyes, startling them awake.

Daylight reflected on a puddle on the floor, dull, dull red and drying. Sunlight didn’t hurt the blank eyes that stared into nothing.

Nobles gasped as they saw the two bodies on the floor in front of the stairs that led to the throne. An uneasy chatter rang around the room as the crowd instinctively backed away before their gaze moved upward.

Link sat on the throne, sword propped in front of him. It’s blade sank into the carpet as his left hand lazily rested overtop the hilt, red eyes tearing into everyone who looked at him. The evidence of the nobility’s crimes remained motionless at his feet.

He didn’t have to say anything. Nor did they. Everyone had already heard the news of an attempt on the queen’s life. Everyone knew what this meant. The room grew dead silent.

After he’d looked over every single face, Link slowly rose, and he motioned to the guards to take the bodies away. Shortly after, the herald pronounced Zelda’s arrival, and Link walked down the stairs as she entered the throne room, unaware of what had just happened. Link offered her a hand to help her up the stairs, a purposeful gesture that he knew everyone was noting, and then knelt when she sat at the throne.

Then he left the room, left the queen to her own battlefield, and went to bed, anger slowly extinguishing as his point had been made.

There was never another attempt like that again.

[marco-polar-klepsky]

Idk what else to contribute to the fact Kittycorn is trying to run from kits actions again, but literally her saying “leave me alone” like she isn’t saying this after she made her incest fetish comic public like comically stupid.

Anyways if Kittycorn somehow sees this post (I blocked kit before kit could block me lmao):

[serpentface]

Question about Couya! Since she is a bastard what are the reasons about her being brought into the main family by her father. Was it genuine care for his child or a way to save face politically/socially? Is her birth mother alive? Do you think she would have had a better life growing up anywhere else?

This is in large part due to how cultural perceptions and legal punishment of adultery varies between male and female citizens, looped into the very strictly patrilineal kinship system.

By legal definition, the word for 'adultery' applies only to situations where a man has an affair with a married woman, or a married woman has an affair with any man. Other forms of affairs (eg a married man having an affair with an unmarried woman) are wrapped into a broader set of sexual misdemeanors and aren't often charged or punished in practice, and the punishments are comparatively minor (if an unwed woman's father pursues charges, the man in the affair is likely to just pay a fine). On a social level, extramaritial affairs in general are certainly not Approved of and seen as lowly and dishonorable, but the average response is significantly less harsh/more willing to entertain Nuance with men than with women.

In this society there's differentiated shades of bastardry depending on the contexts of the child's birth, as well as a distinction for 'nameless bastards' (has not been claimed by their biological father or maternal grandfather, or claimed in adoption).

a) A child born to an unmarried woman via an unmarried man: non-issue for father, potentially serious social harm for the woman (especially if she has never been married and expected virginal, much less severe as a widow or divorcee). The child will not be notably disadvantaged in of themselves (their status will depend more on whether they are claimed and thus provided the social security of a family patriarch), the father will experience no hard disadvantages in claiming them.

b) A child born to an unmarried woman via a married man: mild sexual misdemeanor for the father carrying levels of social shame, even more serious social harm for the woman (often framed as not just loose but a manipulative Seductress of a married man). The child might experience minor to moderate social disadvantages, the consequences of the father claiming them are purely social and will not typically be severe. (Couya is this)

c) A child born to a married woman via an unmarried or married man: both man and woman have committed a crime and can be severely punished. The biological father can technically claim the child but will be disincentivized from doing so. This is the form of bastardry most comparable to the conventional definition, in that it is heavily stigmatized and has effects on concerns of kinship and inheritance.

In addendum to this, if the adulterous wife's legal husband claims the child, this may be punishable if determined to be active concealment of adultery (which is also a crime), and has EXTREME social consequences either way. (Either you're a cuckold too stupid to notice that your wife has been skipping out on you, or you're a MEGAcuckold adultery-accessory willingly rearing another man's child after being horribly shamed by him).

(This is separate from adoption- a man who marries a woman with an unclaimed child after the fact (whether it was a product of adultery or just a general out of wedlock birth) and claims the child is an adoptive father, he is not concealing adultery or being cuckolded.)

A child born in an affair can be considered an heir to their biological fathers (descent and kinship is fully patrilineal and on a Basic level it doesn't matter who the mother is), and can very smoothly and legally be claimed when the affair was not considered criminal adultery. The concern on that front is social perception rather than material legal consequences or kinship issues.

Couya's birth mother was an unwed servant working as a housekeeper for her father Saizen, so the Crime of adultery did not take place. It would be considered a minor sexual misdemeanor, and the woman's father was not about to pursue charges against a nobleman who could Ruin him (and had also formally expressed that he would claim the child, which meant he would not be saddled with a nameless bastard granddaughter). So the concerns here were entirely social.

The affair might have started beforehand but the pregnancy that produced Couya occurred after his wife's third viable pregnancy ended in the premature birth of a underdeveloped boy deemed necessary to euthanize (and tbr would Not have survived either way). This was after Livya Haidamane had a couple early term miscarriages, two viable but very difficult pregnancies wherein one child was very weak and sickly for the first several years of life, and struggled to conceive every time. A lot of people are going to be at least a little sympathetic to a married man having an affair and claiming a bastard in this context. It's definitely ideal and practical to have more than two children, and his wife (while not outright infertile) clearly could not reliably bear healthy children. (The average response is going to be "Well he shouldn't have done it but like, I get it")

Couya being claimed by her father was a mix of genuine care and saving face. Initially it was MUCH more the latter than the former. Saizen made attempts to hide the servant's pregnancy and to keep his own wife out of sight during the late term (to prevent the baby appearing after his wife had been seen Extremely not pregnant). But there's some levels of care involved, he could very easily have fired the pregnant servant and had nothing to do with his bastard and she would have no recompense whatsoever. The choice to keep and claim the baby and ensure its entrance into the world bore as little social scrutiny as possible is an act of care for his own progeny.

This was Not an act of care for Couya's birth mother (beyond the fact that concealing her pregnancy would benefit her in hiding that she is not only Not a virgin prior to marriage but had a child). She probably would have been about 17-19 at the time and was fired a few months after giving birth, and most likely never saw Couya again after this point (if she did, it would most likely be in the context of seeing her as an adult Odonii in public and noting her to look Scarily familiar). She has an Okayish chance at still being alive, she'd be around 50 (and a person who survives the high infant mortality and birth casualty rates stands a good chance of hitting their 60s), though she could very well be a casualty of the drought+famine.

Whether or not Couya's life would have been better is kind of a mixed bag. She had an awful fucking childhood in large part because her adoptive mother Livya Haidamane hated her. (Livya was ultimately a pretty horrible person but not just like. An Evil Bitch. She had A Lot going on and Couya was a living breathing insult to her and reminder of like, every one of her dashed hopes and dreams). Couya is also autistic and presented very intense symptoms as a child in a society that is Not equipped for a mass-understanding and support of cognitive differences. But she still did have an immensely privileged life with profound physical/economic levels of security inaccessible to the vast majority of people in this region, including her birth mother. Saizen also actually Liked her and cared about her, he just wasn't a routine physical presence in any of his children's lives.

Had she been left with her biological mother, she would be in a very disadvantaged situation as a nameless bastard to an unwed mother. Her biological grandfather may or may not have been willing to claim her, and her mother would have great difficulties in finding a husband (which is ultimately necessary for the security of women in this society). I think her mother was a relatively kind person but not like, a perfect angel. She would probably have complicated feelings about her bastard daughter, especially one whose very existence materially disadvantages her and was very, very difficult as a child. So this probably would not have been a good situation for Couya either.

If you broaden the question to ANY other family completely divorced from the circumstances of her birth, yeah it definitely could have been better. But in her case it's like either "Life of grotesque socioeconomic privilege but in an abusive household" or "Life of profound socioeconomic disadvantages in a household that Probably wouldn't have been this abusive but certainly wouldn't be healthy". There wasn't really a good option for her.

[vixvigil]

using this post to respond to tags on a reblogged post that themselves were a response to my tags, because my rambling was far too long for that format and i don't want to be a menace in op's notes

unless you want to read circular rambling about the elusive nature of body horror, ignore this

the post:

my tags:

#i don’t want to obfuscate the very real and important point here#about both the societal and individual perceptions of disability and illness#but at the same time. imo you could say this about pretty much all body horror#because fundamentally you can’t really draw a line between something purely conceptual#and something starkly real when it comes to horror. bodily or otherwise#the reality is grossly fantastical and the fantasy is morbidly grounded#it’s the interplay between the two that makes horror effective#the boundary is removed. there is no difference#the reality of the body is frequently horrific. so any fantastical exploration is automatically grounded in something#someone will always have a connecting lived experience#one persons body horror will always be another persons mundanity#there’s undoubtedly an examination to make of the everyday experiences of disabled people being broadly and carelessly labelled body horror#and of the very real damage that that does#but at the same time. there will always be overlap because you cannot separate body horror as a genre from the reality of the body#body horror and mundanity are not mutually exclusive#horror at large is a genre reliant on framing and perception#the horror is in the eye of the beholder#and reality. mundanity. is much the same#i think i'm losing the thread of what i'm saying#and that's without even touching on the relationship between the individual perception of horror and the cultural perception of horror#god. horror is so crazy#whatever. maybe i’ll come back to it sometime#my perspective of this is undoubtedly skewed somewhat by my own lived experiences of 'body horror'#but yeah. great post op 👍#hope its clear that all this is intended as a continuation and not as a contradiction#text

@nakiteers tags:

#< prev#not really a refute of what you said but more an alternative reading of OPs text and societal issues#i hear you and thats valid#but imo. it feels like OP was more talking about when people TW body horror on like... people with prosthetics#ive seen TW body horror comments on that one tiktok perso with a glass eye prosthetic#if your really unlucky you can even see them on educational vids on periods#endometriosis isnt body horror its just a treatable condition that causes pain and problems#i feel the line /has/ to be “is incredibly grotesque and unnatural” bc otherwise you get people with bad acne being tagged as bodyhorror#there has to be a line somewhere. its not grey on both ends#my worse body horror experience was an improper IV saline drip into my muscle which caused a bump that stuck around for a day#and it was so viscerally disturbing that i still struggle with IVs because i have this sneaking suspicion that#my skin will warp around the liquid and stay there. its not logical but its in my brain now#but i dont think things like that should be labeled as horror#personal feelings and societal/ community labels are worlds apart#that guy who died from radiation slowly? thats body horror to pretty much everyone#pregnancy? thats body horror to me but i will fight on the side that that shouldnt be labeled horror publicly#if its a thing that happens on the daily it needs education and care; not stigma and avoidance bc its “horror”#cancer sucks but calling it “body horror” is going to make educational content come across very differently.#and some people might just say “i dont like horror/i cant handle horror” and then purposely avoid learning about others#vent in tags

i agree! honestly i was more-so revelling in the spiral of thought that the post sent me into, than directly and specifically exploring the post itself and the point it makes, because when i tried to draw that all important line in my head, i was unable to do so without contradicting the premise of the original post, the premise that I absolutely agree with, and i found that fascinating.

especially when i then tried to use my own experiences to rationalise and ground things in a concrete situation and found that that only complicated things more.

i’ve lived through gradually losing 80% of my skin; for over a year more of my body was open wound than not. i've had full body radiation burns on top of those open wounds when a treatment to help regrow my skin went wrong. i’ve experienced itching so profound that it lead me to partially skin my own hand twice before the age 18. i’ve lived with nerve endings so fucked by longstanding wounds that water felt like acid. i’ve spent months, feverish, wrapped in a blood-soaked sheet finding comfort in imagining being burned alive, because that was the only way i could imagine an end to the pain and the itching—at the very least it would’ve been over quicker.

it lasted for so long, and i grew so accustomed to looking at my body and seeing only wounds, that even now seeing skin on my body feels unfamiliar to me. i’d forgotten what i looked like with skin. to this day it surprises me sometimes when i catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror and see skin in place of wound.

is that body horror? to someone, probably. to many? maybe, who's to say. to me? i’m not sure.

it was certainly horrific, but it was also mundane. it was my everyday life for a period. i was used to it. following the original post to the letter, is calling that scenario body horror therefore wrong? after all, it was just how i was living. that's where my initial tags were coming from in regards to horror and mundanity not being mutually exclusive.

if we abstract it, ignore the perspective mundanity of the situation, could the state of my body at the time be considered ‘body horror’? I'm not sure there’s necessarily a concise or constant answer to that either.

my body was almost entirely open wounds; warnings are often out on pictures of alarming injuries, does it become wrong to do that if the wound is longstanding? or, if not dictated, perhaps by context?

of course, context always matters, but is the line we’re talking about here more dependent on the context than content? because in my mind that’s an entirely separate line. in this situation if the line is contextual it is no longer concrete, and thus ceases to function.

to continue we must find another Known factor within the situation. so it goes:

i know that, when i could wear clothes again, i was careful about how i dressed for a long time, how much of myself I covered. i was almost permanently bandaged, i wore turtlenecks, long sleeves, gloves through summer etc, both for my own mental comfort and for the comfort of others. i knew i had the potential to make people uncomfortable, that the state of my body was unusual, alarming, and, to some, potentially horrific. should i have had to worry about the perception of others? maybe, maybe not. regardless, most people do not enjoy seeing open wounds, the response is visceral, and i don’t think that’s ever going to change.

for years after i was still careful, and remain so, to a degree, because of the scarring i’m left with. i'm lucky, a lot of my scarring isn’t hugely visible. in most larger areas it’s more of a textural shift, a change in the way the hair grows, a shadow, etc—nothing that would be particularly alarming to most people—and most of the scarring that was once more starkly visible has faded significantly over time, but i'm still mindful of them situationally.

is it odd that i consider myself, and am considered by others, ‘lucky’ because my scarring is less immediately visible than it could’ve been? certainly it says something about the way we view scars. so is scarring horrific? does it depend on the severity? can scars be considered body horror?

i don’t think my scarring is body horror, nor do i think scarring in general is, nevertheless i can understand being disturbed by what it represents.

so, still using my situation as an example, if a body more wound than skin can, depending on context, be considered body horror, but that same body healed, covered in the resulting scars cannot, does that mean the line between ‘potentially body horror’ and ‘definitely not body horror’ is dependent on how healed the wound is? because that presents its own issue, as the healing process obviously isn't binary. so what is it dependent on? must the wound still be wet?

the more you try to draw a line the less you're able to. i don't have a good answer. i just find it interesting to think about.

in my initial tags i did definitely lean-in to considering fictional and fantastical body horror and how that connects to reality, as opposed to remaining exclusively within the realm how people view and interact with others, but i think the dilemma remains whether or not art and fiction are considered at all.

while, again, i agree with both the original post and your tags, the subject can't escape the underlying central conflict: that 'body horror' cannot really be explicitly defined.

the defining factor you mention of being 'incredibly grotesque and unnatural', while seemingly straightforward and sensible, renders all real situations and states of the body as incapable of being considered body horror, as everything in reality is part of nature, and thus natural. but of course, plenty of things in life can be considered body horror; you mention dying of radiation poisoning – certainly a classic example of something pretty much universally considered 'body horror' – but it's still natural phenomenon, so while undeniably grotesque, it would still be excluded by that definition.

so, if we cannot use 'unnatural' as a defining factor, what do we use in it's place? anomalous? abnormal? twisted? odd? warped? peculiar? brutal? bizarre? each possible substitute comes with it's own issues, its own contradictions.

body horror escapes definition. we know it, we feel it, but we can't really put any meaningful constraints on it without excluding things that we think are body horror, or including things that we think are not. hence my original, very simplistic, 'anti-conclusion' of sorts, that the horror is in the eye of the beholder. which admittedly is less of an answer to the underlying philosophical quandary of where and how to draw the line, than an acceptance of the impossibility of doing so.

the original post is true and the point it makes is correct and worth learning from and acting upon. extrapolating from its premise, to action it we must draw a line, but by it's very nature (and even the conceit of the post) the line cannot be drawn. yet this contradiction does not negate the reality of the original sentiment.

the real coherent, useful takeaway is simply what remains at the heart of it: oh my god can everyone please just be normal about disabled people and their bodies please i'm begging

[murdleandmarot]

Hey guys, Memory is, like, a really good song

[icewindandboringhorror]

sometimes looking at like Self Help Strategies lists for the symptoms I'm having is always just like:

thing that I already do

thing I have tried 10 times

thing I already do

thing that I don't have the money to do

thing I already do

thing I've been doing since I was 10yrs old to no avail

thing that is impossible given my situation

thing that doesn't apply to me

thing that I already do

thing I have already tried

hrmm, oh wait, maybe finally- OH, yeah.. okay. thing that I already do but it was just phrased slightly differently

thing I have already done

[heyitsmemel]

Ranty rant

[sodrippy]

literally so fucking frustrating to stop being in survival mode constant stress regimented schedule to keep yourself functioning but also not be a normal person who can do stuff normally and without effort. like. arguably this is better. but so much is falling through the cracks bc i dont have klaxon bells ringing in my head 24/7 and its like. ok well is this even worth it lol

[teddybeartoji]

anyway i hope i will feel a bit more alive tmrw i miss everybody i miss spamming the dashhh😔😔😔😔😔

[alexjcrowley]

Guys is this a safe space to say that Demosthenes and Philip II should have fucked nasty

[karokawwo]

I want to draw -> I'm too tired to draw -> I can't sleep

[thesixthstar]

watching the 2012 Much Ado movie and like. i don't think i've ever seen a worse Much Ado? They somehow made pretty much every wrong decision on the directorial front and all the acting is so bad, even from actors who I've seen be decent/good in other stuff.