#references under read more

[inosukh]

CHROMAKOOOOOIA!!!

CHROMAKOPIA releases tmrw and im really excited😛😛 heres paranoid mikey

[cockroachesunite]

Go for broke AU part 2

☞ (Part 1) . (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

(masterpost)

[helcef]

Keegs

Couldn’t decide between versions so here’s all of them

[dyed-indigo]

How many wives did Luo Bingge have?

I see quite a lot of debate over this within the fandom, and this excerpt has been passed around quite a bit:

But I felt like I remembered Bingge being mentioned as having more wives within the text, so I decided to skim the books (CTRL + F on the Internet Archive PDFs worked wonders) to find as many references to Bingge's wife count as I could.

I was right that he was mentioned as having more wives (hundreds to be exact), on the back of the very first book in the series even. However, the backs of books are the domain of the publisher rather than the author, so this isn't really trustworthy info to go off of for canon purposes. Still, it made me curious to see if more wives were mentioned somewhere else within the series.

He is mentioned as theoretically marrying at least 100 women at once here, however this was purely speculation on what would have happened in Proud Immortal Demon Way if Luo Binghe truly aspired for marriage. He did marry many women in PIDW, however it's never made clear whether these marriages were out of love or were political (and for horny reasons, the stallion protagonist can never escape his libido).

613 is also mentioned as a number of wives, and seems oddly specific unless there's some Chinese number symbolism I'm missing here, however this is just an example of something that Madame Meiyin could predict with her fortune telling abilities. Her fortunes are mentioned to typically be about romance, so this could be Shen Qingqiu remembering an actual prediction she made in canon, however even if that were the case (which there doesn't seem to be evidence to support) it could simply be that Luo Binghe never got those wives within the novel, and was just implied to get them afterwards (cue Peerless Cucumber rant about Airplane's lazy writing).

There's mentioned to be dozens of women "barely glimpsed" within the harem, presumably in addition to wives like Ning Yingying and Liu Mingyan who were more significant, but that still doesn't give us an exact count. If the initial harem count is accurate, it does imply that most of the women within it were just written to fluff the numbers a bit.

Bingge is mentioned to have "never refused" any requests to join his harem. RIP Bingge's understanding of boundaries, but, again, we have no clue how many women even asked to join. Demon Emperors are powerful, but also scary, and Shen Qingqiu is... perhaps an unreliable narrator when it comes to any version of Luo Binghe's appeal factor.

Bingge is mentioned multiple times to have had sex with hundreds of women, however, not all of the bedded were wedded. Madame Meiyin, for example, is mentioned as someone that Bingge slept with but never married, and there's no evidence that i could find that she was the sole exception in a sea of wives.

In conclusion, while manwhore Bingge is real, his count of actual wives is more than likely less than 100, as originally specified. (Though I wouldn't blame you if you thought otherwise, the emphasis on the harem size being "innumerable" and "uncountable" in the narration is quite a lot, and historically many Chinese emperors had a larger harem than Bingge.)

At least, he had less than 100 wives in the novel. In the donghua, on the other hand...

Well. That's a fairly definite amount.

[jerrythebug]

Trying to figure out how to draw a White Guy in a Suit. I'm getting somewhere, but still need more practice.

[kaelidascope]

“I can’t believe we got you to dance all night with us!” Sun crows gleefully as Blake approaches. Neptune cheers, and as one the newlyweds surge over to her: framing her from both sides as they kiss her cheeks, hugging her between their held hands. Blake hopes Velvet caught that; she’d love to have a picture like that for her desk. Something to zone out at when the words won’t come and she’s half-convinced no one’s actually fallen in love, ever—that no one ever truly feels that deeply.

An inspiration.

A goal.

---

Velvet may not have captured it but Chef Kaeli certainly did! For @professorspork <3 Who so graciously made my job coming up with a birthday treat so much easier with this suggestion

Read this fic guys it's INSANELY cute and I was squealing the whole read. It's a short lil thing c'mon guys if I can shotgun this in one morning you can too. Give her some love, she is an absolutely hidden gem of an author and so far every work I've read of hers is excellent.

Also it's like her birthday so like yeah go on. Off with ya, go read. Comments are crack for us and we are shameless addicts

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Love Talk 4: More mindfucks

Direct follow up from this (we're diving back into the messy love lives from ep 1 again)

Kyoshi: All I'm saying is: I slept with Rangi on my first try, while Kavik refused to sleep in the same bed with you! Aang: Please Kyoshi! She's already dead! Look at her! She's convulsing! Kyoshi: Fine, I rest my case. Roku: That's not the only thing resting. Sigh, Rest in Peace Yangchen. Korra: I spiritbended her! I think she might be ok, but she'll be out of commission for awhile. Kyoshi: Tch. Damnit. Aang: Can we please change the subject? Kyoshi: The subject's been about love talk, and it's still about love talk. Nothing has change! Roku: The dead ghost in the corner says otherwise. Kyoshi: "Dead ghost" do you know how stupid you sound? It's redundant. Aang: Leave it to Kyoshi to figure out how to kill something that's already dead. Kuruk, trying to change the subject: So Sei'naka women, am I right? Kyoshi: .......... Korra: Wait, Sei'naka....isn't that your wife's clan's name, Kyoshi? Oh wait-no Kyoshi: God I wanna fucking murder you. Kuruk: I was just thinking, since you love talking about Rangi- Korra: C'mon Kuruk, I'm with Kyoshi, even I don't want to think too deeply on you rizzing up a woman, only to die and have your reincarnation end up with her daughter. And the daughter is like a carbon copy of her.... Kyoshi: Thanks for summing up my issues, Korra. Totally didn't need a reminder. Korra: I'm detecting sarcasm. Kyoshi: How about you detect this foot up your ass. Kuruk: Ok ok, calm down, kid. I get it, you're love life is messy and kind of a mind fuck. It could be worse! Kyoshi: Yeah, I could be you. Kuruk: I mean you kinda are but. No nvm. Kyoshi, I know I slept with countless women, but that's not the worse- Kyoshi: Oh no, I mean it must've been a real mindfuck watching your successor, who has your dead wife's face, macking on the daughter of your ex-girlfriend. Watching us, it must've looked like Ummi and Hei-Ran were cucking you, huh buddy? Kuruk: ...................................... Korra/Aang/Roku/Wan:

[azureasterart]

[absolutely-not-my-main-blog]

Hit FX sitcom It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia has genuinely compelled me to read and appreciate classic literature more than any of my many former years of school. I look at the silly rat show and am like I get it now, I'm gonna read Shakespeare, Beckett, Dostoyevsky, etc. and analyze the world for funsies, my grades 7-11 English teachers could NEVER.

[esteemed-excellency]

ok i'm almost done with the new firmament chapter, i have So Many thoughts 👀

[kaurwreck]

do you have a favorite literary ref in bsd or is that a cruel question to ask

This is so hard! I like lots and lots of them, for different reasons. If I had to choose only one, and if I were to be sincere, Gin might be my favorite literary reference. I really love how much her namesake short story reframes Akutagawa's character, especially when comparing his Beast iteration against the version of him in bsd's main timeline. O-Gin also just really neatly and cleanly encapsulates what I love about Akutagawa's Kirishitan mono, including his affection for the Holy Fool trope.

To be more silly, I really love when Atsushi tell Tanzō Tonan that he has to feed his chameleon to escape the conversation with Tonan upon realizing Tonan wasn't being forthright (just ahead of the Decay of Angels framing the Agency). There are two references here that I adore (1) the reference to Chamelon Diary, in which Nakajima Atsushi semi-autobiographically recounts receiving a chameleon from a student and also his epiphany on how to live absent objective existential meaning; and (2) the reference to Tonan-sensei, a short story by Nakajima Atsushi about his beloved uncle, whom I also adore.

Rather than attempt to write an essay on Tonan-sensei and his influence on Nakajima Atsushi, I'll simply include a roughly translated version of the short story's Wikipedia synopsis:

The story depicts the protagonist, who secretly harbors self-loathing resentment towards his uncle because he shares similar mental characteristics with himself, but through his interactions with his uncle as he faces death, he gradually sorts out his critical view of the coexistence of love and hate and comes to realize the deep love he has for his uncle that lies dormant within him.

I will also include below a snippet about Tonan (referred to also as "Tan") from Nakajima Atsushi: His Life and Work, a dissertation submitted to the University of Hawaii by Nobuko Miyama Ochner in May 1984 (the date is relevant, because Ochner-sensei was able to speak to some of Atsushi's then-living family and friends to piece together his biography):

[Nakajima Atsushi's grandfather's] second eldest son, Tan, was also a scholar of Chinese. A bright boy, he was able to read the Chinese classics at the age of six and compose poetry and prose in Chinese at thirteen, according to the Japanese system of reckoning age. He was a proud, uncompromising, and impatient man, who never married, and who seemed to be always pursuing the impossible. In a short piece entitled "Tonan Sensei" (Tonan was Tan's pen name), Atsushi describes his uncle as having the virgin's beautifully clear, pure eyes— "the eyes of a man who is always dreaming an impossible dream." Tan, who revered General Nogi Maresuke (1849-1912), was an "amalgam of fervent patriotism and the temperament of a traditional Confucian scholar." He was greatly concerned about the future of Japan and China, as well as of Asia in general, confronted with the onslaught of the Western colonial powers.

...

In his articles he laments the ignorance of Chinese culture and tradition on the part of the Japanese diplomats in China, and criticizes their excessive reliance upon Western sources of news information. He felt that the peoples of Japan and China must unite in their efforts to repel the outsiders from East Asia; he went to China at least two times to try to enlist Chinese support for his vision. One of the prominent men he met was the scholar Lo Chen-yii (1866-1940), who later wrote an introduction to the posthumously published collection of Tan's poetry and prose, Tonan sonko. Atsushi is said to resemble this uncle most.

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting invites four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, the Baroness causes conflict with the Commander.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 2,626. Rating: all audiences. Warnings: discussion of war and grief, death mentions.)

Chapter 35: Baroness Touledy's Strategy (Reprise)

Soldiers pushed and parted as a woman, armed and armoured, marched through their training grounds. The Baroness Touledy held her cane in one hand, and her sword—sharp—in the other.

The girls had done their best. Tried playing with the man. But he was more accustomed to the Game than he pretended not to be. And that made what the Commander had done to them all the more disgusting.

He knew what he was doing when he used Lady Trevelyan. He knew what he was doing when he invited Lady Erridge’s friend. And he knew what he was doing when he promised Samient help.

Every part of it, done for his benefit.

No fucking more.

“Commander,” said a lieutenant in warning, eyes widening as she saw the Baroness approach. The Commander, beside her, turned.

“Baroness,” he greeted, bowing.

“Good morning, Commander,” Touledy replied. She flourished her sword, blade glinting in the sunlight. “I thought I might invite you to spar. Since we did not quite have chance on my previous visit.”

The last two words were said with a venom—yet the Commander appeared immune. He handed off his mantle to the lieutenant. “Very well.”

The Baroness smiled. This was the beauty of her plan—for whether he accepted or refused, she would achieve her goal.

That goal was very simple. It was one laid out by Lady Trevelyan herself. The other Ladies had not been there, that day, when her Ladyship had pointed out the Commander’s weakness. That was why they had made the mistake of confronting him privately. But if they wanted to best him, they needed a crowd.

Public humiliation required it.

A space was quickly cleared for the conflict to come; eagerly, too. Soldiers gathered ‘round, whispering and waiting—but were sent away again by the lieutenant. Back to training! Sidelong glances would have to do.

The Baroness welcomed them. She circled into position, facing the Commander. Her greaves ground into the dirt, finding purchase. One hand rested on her cane, the other brandished her blade. She was a mesmerizing sight, and she knew it.

The Commander, less so. His sword had been unsheathed in a draw that was typical of him. No flash, no flair. All seriousness. All bore. A helm was offered to him by a solider, but subsequently rejected. He took his stance opposite the Baroness, and raised his sword.

Hers met it—slowly, in acknowledgment. A look of understanding passed between them. Their swords withdrew.

And then, they clashed.

Touledy’s blade sailed into the Commander’s, clanging with the force of the hit. He, stalwart, withstood the blow. The ricochet of his blade was used to his advantage, momentum carried into a downward swing.

The Baroness blocked it. She jabbed for his side. The Commander jolted away. Nearby soldiers gasped at the close call.

Stalemate reached, the fighting paused. Each backed off, to readjust. Stances changed, blades twirled. Premeditated unpredictability.

“I have heard what you have done for my fellow Ladies, Commander,” the Baroness muttered, taking a step forward.

He watched her feet. “Mm?”

“I wished to give you my thanks in person—and to query why. What could have affected this change of heart, given your earlier purpose in bringing us here?”

“It was the right thing to do.”

He lunged for her, blade swiping down toward her shoulder. The Baroness’ sword shot across, and batted it away. He was left open; she capitalised.

“So you acknowledge that your previous intentions were wrong?” she accused, stabbing towards his gut.

The Commander sidestepped it. “Freely.”

“Interesting. Then one wonders why you had them in the first place?”

“I misled myself.”

Touledy laughed, spinning her blade. “And how exactly does one mislead oneself?”

“We all are prone to suffering a lack of good judgement, on occasion,” said the Commander, “though I take it yours is infallible.”

“Hardly. Though it is devastatingly precise, when required.”

As if to prove it, she pounced, a lancing blow slipping past his attempt at defence, and striking against his armoured side.

“Hit,” he said. They withdrew, to begin again.

The Baroness prepared her stance. “I would say our dear Lady Trevelyan suffered a lack of good judgement, in trusting you, perhaps.”

The Commander’s grip tightened around his blade. “Perhaps.”

“Though I am sure you never intended to hurt our dear Lady.”

The Baroness shot forth, sudden like a spider, striking at his stomach. He smacked it away.

“I never intended to hurt anyone.”

“That seems at odds with your methods.” She swung again. Their swords met, in a series of blows. Through them, the Baroness grunted: “You wished to do harm to us without doing any harm?”

The Commander did not falter with her question. He kept up the onslaught, until an opportunity presented itself. He came up on her left; she defended right. His blade struck the very edge of her chestplate.

“Like I said,” he told her, “my judgement was poor.”

“Hit,” she muttered.

They reset.

“Is that poor judgement the reason you failed to, at any point, tell Lady Trevelyan why she was truly here?” The Baroness raised her sword. “Before you knew such knowledge would break her heart?”

The Commander’s face changed, but he did not respond. Touledy strode forward.

“How long did you intend to keep the truth from her?” She thrust her sword at his abdomen; he stumbled back. “How long would you have lied?”

He tried to counter, but the Baroness slammed his blade to the side.

“Did you consider her feelings!? Or were yours the centre of your concern?”

She sent a cleaving blow sailing towards his shoulder. He deflected it with the back of his blade.

“Do you seek our favour to win back her affection? Do you only do for others that which benefits you!?”

Another strike; denied, again. The Commander readied to defend, and stared her down.

“Baroness Touledy,” he said, “how many mages are in Val Misrenne?”

Touledy froze. “What?”

The Commander lunged, twisting his sword around hers, and wrenching it from her grasp. The tip of his own he raised to her neck, and held her there.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she lied.

“The Red Templars seem to believe you possess a small army.”

The Baroness clenched her fist, and backed away. The Commander lowered his sword. She watched as he bent down, to collect hers, and offered it to her.

She took it, but sheathed it.

“You know the business of Red Templars?” she asked.

The Commander nodded. “Of course. The safety of the Inquisition and the people of Thedas depends on it.”

“I see. I have no idea to what you refer. If you are aware of the Red Templars’ attack on Val Misrenne, then you know it to be a senseless act of violence.”

The Commander holstered his blade, and stepped closer. “I do. But that does not negate the fact that they attack for what they believe to be some kind of reason.” He regarded her with a gaze that she did not allow to intimidate her. “I cannot believe it would be more than ten.”

Touledy sighed. She had a feeling, one way or another, whatever she told him, that he would uncover the truth regardless. And so, instead, she simply told him the truth:

“Six,” she confessed. “There are six.”

The Commander acknowledged this, and glanced at their surroundings. Though quiet enough for their speech to be naught more than mumbles to his soldiers, he gestured for the Baroness to walk with him, away. She drew her cane up from the earth, and walked.

“They arrived some time after the Circles fell. A group of eight,” she explained, as they gained some distance from the training grounds, “though one left to find home, and another passed of old age. They were led by a young woman, who knew my brother—he was a Templar at her Circle.”

“Your brother?”

“Ser Ouen Touledy. She was a but a child when he met her, and very reminiscent of his beloved baby sister. He protected her, like an elder brother would. So much so that, when it came to her Harrowing, he refused the killing blow.”

The Commander glanced at his feet, knowing perfectly well what that meant. “Ah.”

“She survived the Harrowing. Yet, as you can imagine, Ouen was discharged for what he did, and passed at our home, from lyrium withdrawal.”

“I am sorry,” murmured the Commander. “That should never have happened.”

“It is done, and cannot be helped,” Touledy lamented. “But she could be. She arrived at my door, with her little group, to see my brother, and thank him for what he had done. She did not know he was gone.”

Touledy thought of that moment. It had been an ordinary day, despite all that was happening beyond the confines of their town. Then, strange visitors had arrived, her staff told her. But they knew Ouen, so Touledy had to see them.

When she entered the parlour, her world changed. She saw the face her brother had died for, and understood. The Baroness could have believed she was staring into a mirror, held up from the not so distant past.

The girl was so kind, and so sweet, and so grateful. Oh, how she had cried when Touledy had told her.

“I know this is nothing, compared to your pain,” she’d wept, “but he was as if a brother to me. I cannot remember the family I had before. He was the closest I had.”

The Baroness took her hand, in that moment. And she told her, “Then we are sisters.”

She closed her eyes now, to stop the tears of that day from falling anew. “Thallia, is her name,” Touledy told the Commander. “She wanted to repay the debt she saw herself as owing my brother, and volunteered to stay in Val Misrenne, as a healer. I said she owed nothing—but she was welcome to stay, they all were. She is the last I have of Ouen; to turn her away would be to dishonour his memory and sacrifice.”

“I understand,” said the Commander. A gentle tip of his head, and he kept them on a steady path. “People have fought for less.”

“Much less,” agreed Touledy. “She has delivered babies, healed the sick and injured. One of her compatriots is an ‘erbalist, who discovered a source of disease within our crops and eradicated it. When the Breach opened, a rift formed in Val Misrenne. With the last of my brother’s lyrium, they were able to seal it. If not for them—I cannot imagine…”

The mages had been celebrated, after that rift. Those who were cautious before were finally convinced. Parties were held across the town. No demons allowed in Val Misrenne!

Until the Red Templars arrived.

“It was a small band who first came,” Touledy explained. “They knew of my dislike of the Chantry, and thought perhaps we might ally against our common enemy. They wanted supplies, safe shelter if need be, and access to other nobility.”

The Baroness’ reply was predictably derisive.

“One of them was from my brother’s Circle. Tried to claim some kind of friendship, with him.” The Baroness chuckled. “Unlikely. But—he saw Thallia. He recognised her. He whispered to his fellows, and they left.”

“And then they staged their first attack?” asked the Commander.

“Yes,” Touledy confirmed. “They wanted the mages. Val Misrenne refused to capitulate.”

“I cannot imagine they liked their defeat.”

Touledy smiled. What a bittersweet victory it had been. “No. I do not know if they return simply to punish, or if they truly believe that, because we fought so hard to defend our people, that there must be something grander and more insidious going on. I think I do not care either way.”

The Commander sighed. “I doubt they do either.”

They neared a low wall, and the Baroness announced a sense of fatigue. The Commander rerouted, so that she might take a seat.

She rested her cane against the stone. “I will not bore you with details of the siege, as I assume that, if you have done your job correctly, you are already well aware of them. However, I can tell you that the mages plan to do the unthinkable.”

“What?”

“They wish to hand themselves over.”

The Commander shook his head. “The Red Templars will continue their attack regardless.”

“I know. I have tried to persuade them, but as the situation worsens, they become harder to convince.” She bowed her head. “I had wished to stay here, waiting for Lady Trevelyan… but Val Misrenne needs me. I must return.”

“And what of my troops?” the Commander asked.

The Baroness raised her head. “What of your troops?”

“I have a force arriving to the west of Val Misrenne.” He folded his hands behind his back, spine straight, shoulders squared—silhouetted by the rising sun. “They wait on your command.”

“What?”

“I had thought you would ask earlier, but I understand your hesitation—the association of the Inquisition with the Chantry is not ideal for Val Misrenne,” he went on, “but the Ambassador is seeing to it that the clerics hoping to leverage this situation are kept subdued, for now.”

Touledy stared up at him, bewildered—as bewildered as she imagined the other Ladies had been, in their encounters. “Your troops cannot be sizeable, if the Red Templars have not discovered them?”

“They are a discreet party, returning from the Western Approach.”

She shook her head. “Such a small force will do nothing but delay the inevitable.”

“As I have told you before, Inquisition troops know how to defeat a Red Templar.”

She insisted: “And as I have told you, they are not to be trifled with. Even trained soldiers struggle against their numbers.”

The Commander smiled. “The Inquisitor has proven quite capable of dealing with greater numbers than this before.”

The Baroness repeated his words, if only to ensure she had heard them correctly: “The Inquisitor?”

“The Inquisitor’s party happens to be travelling that way,” the Commander muttered, ridiculously coy, “and would be glad of a diversion, should Val Misrenne open its doors.”

Touledy rose, steadying herself upon her cane. “I cannot put the Inquisitor in danger.”

“The Inquisitor is always in danger.”

The Baroness shook her head—but not to refuse. She could never refuse. It was that she knew the betrayal she committed against Lady Trevelyan by accepting. But Lady Trevelyan would simply have to understand. She had no choice but to accept.

“Do it,” she told the Commander. “Please.”

“I’ll send word now,” he said, already turning to go—but Touledy called out to him:

“Wait!”

He stopped, and waited. She came to face him.

“Commander, while I am thankful for this, whatever the outcome; while I am thankful for what you have done for all the Ladies—this will not heal the rift between yourself and Lady Trevelyan.”

The Commander avoided her gaze, yet nodded.

“Lady Trevelyan claims insult on our behalf, yet the greatest injury this has caused is hers, and hers alone. She has never had a home, Commander. Never known that comfort, nor safety. Her parents do not want her, it seems, and the only other place she belonged to is destroyed.” Touledy sighed. “She believed she had found home, here. You have shattered that illusion.”

In mournful tones, he replied: “I know.”

“Then you know what you must do.”

“I do. I will try.”

The Baroness straightened, her usual composure finally returned. “I would wish you luck,” she said, “but, despite our conversation, I do not wish you to succeed.”

“Fair,” said the Commander.

“Let me know, as soon as you know anything.”

The Commander stepped away. “I will.”

[owlbelly]

i have some very nice, full-length, in my opinion not-super-femme skirts that i usually wear in the summer mostly for comfort reasons, though i haven't worn any of them this year at all because of being unusually gender exhausted

but today i was like fuck it. it's very hot out. i'm just running errands. cis people probably won't even talk to me

so of course the very first thing that happens is a woman in the store says "MISS? oh i'm sorry, is that your pronoun?" :') & i go "sure, whatever" (miss/misses/missself) & wave it off because again, exhausted, & she then proceeds to pitch me her entire female empowerment scented candle business plan & ask what i think of it like i'm a one-person lady focus group

& this is not even a one-off kind of thing. i am so glaringly GNC that when i do wear anything even remotely feminine-coded it's like there's suddenly a flashing neon sign above my head saying "GIVE ME SOME REINFORCEMENT, CAN'T YOU SEE I'M TRYING!?"

like...my day-to-day look is so unnoticeable, people go "oh another ugly dyke" & their eyes just slide right off me, and then i put on a skirt & women are falling over each other to tell me how brave i am for shaving my head or how they want to make sure their she-candles speak to my unusual but valid goddess spirit

[sysig]

I like him a normal amount (lying) (Patreon)

[wutaijiemei]

english tl from amis/japanese ❤️

o nani cowaay kita? where have we come from? nani tira i kahadakan no cidal from the place where the sun rises tatalacowa kita? micelemayto ko cidal where are we going? the sun has already set malingad to kita! we are setting off! pasiwali kita heading all the way east

a~a taiyō ni se o mukete katana o futte with the sun behind me, i will carve my path forward michi o terashite kureta hachibōsei as the eight-pointed star¹ guides my way yoru no tobari ga orita kuroku nure night falls and slowly dyes the sky black “sonata wa doko ni mukau?” “where are you going?” oshiete please tell me

awaay ma’araw ako ko soda i ca’ang no kilang. we may know nothing of snow-covered branches awaay ma’araw iso ko taneng niyam. but you know nothing of our wisdom latek cowa kafana’ kako to kararoman no miso. perhaps i am simply unable to understand your struggles kaorira i, caay ka patadoen ako kiso a malalo’od. but i will not fight your battles

tatalacowa kita? micelemayto ko cidal. where are we going? the sun has already set minokay to kita! we’re going home!

a~a higashi ni mukatte yama o koete to the east, past the mountains mimimoto de sasayaite ita hachibōsei the eight-pointed star whispers in my ear and guides my way boya no kiri ni daka reta aoku nure the fog of night surrounds us and slowly dyes the world blue “sonata wa nanto yoba reru?” “what is your name?” oshiete please tell me

a~a kyokujitsu ga iranai ya jū o sutete abandon the rising sun, lay down your guns hirahara ni shizunde ita hachibōsei as the eight-pointed star sinks beneath the plains akatsuki ga akete kita akaku nure day breaks and slowly dyes the sky red darenimo nozoki koma renai yukusue and we reach the end of our journey, safe from prying eyes

¹reference to an important amis/pangcah cultural symbol, visible in the cover art in the center of the soldier's hat. i could not find the actual word for it in amis and, interestingly, it only appears in the japanese sections of the song. will edit the post if i find it T-T

this song is the story lead singer (and lyricist on this song) Natsuko once heard from her father about her grandfather's experience as an amis volunteer soldier during the final days of WWII. full translation of the portion of the interview that talks about this particular song in very great depth here. brief excerpt for basic contexts:

In 1945, the US military began bombing Taiwan, and Japan was on the verge of facing the reality of their imminent loss. A group of young Amis men were at the Takasago volunteer military camp in Taichung, witnessing the chaos firsthand and fearing deployment under such circumstances. They resolved not to fight any more on another nation’s behalf, and a number of them decided to desert and return to Taitung on foot. Natsuko’s grandfather was among them.

[universalthaumaturge]

ok i get why anthy has creature of delirium now