#what is word processing
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puppppppppy · 5 months ago
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horrible truth bomb dropped on my head 20 min ago
#I DIDNT KNOW I DIDNT KNOWWWWW#when i say damn thats crazy its bc i DO think its crazy i think a lot of things are crazy. like how birds have cloacas#or the way ppl draw a five pointed star in different ways and everyone assumes their way of doing it is how everyone does it#my brother is not letting me live this down btw he literally shouted at me like HOW DID YOU LIVE THIS LONG AND NOT PICK UP ON THAT#IDK!!! IDK I THOUGHT SOMETIMES IT COULD BE USED TO EXPRESS GENUINE SHOCK??????#he says its my delivery that makes it sound insincere bc i say it in a monotonous voice which when i think abt it YEAH....#THAT DOES MAKE IT LOOK KINDA BAD IN HINDSIGHT.....#and then i told him i keep a list of phrases that tickle my brain so i can remember to use them in conversation and apparently#most ppl dont do that bc he was like ???? stop doing that??? just let the conversation flow naturally it sounds fake>????#idk man i feel like if i did that and blurted out 'i forgot people find stuff like underwear arousing for some reason' instead of#smth like 'i wonder what kind of ppl find this kind of stuff the bees knees' like i normally do. it would. not go so well.#ALSO THE FLOW CHARTS ARENT NORMAL? i make flow charts before i call the bank or smth so i know what to say#its not just to blend in its also so i dont waste ppls time going uhhhhh as i think of how i put smth into words#its called stalling for time and i dont care if i have to say smth like thats just how the cookie crumbles if it gives me#5 more seconds to process whatever the fuck someone said without letting them think im not paying attention#doodles#diary#sona#puppysona#comics
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canisalbus · 1 year ago
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What if I told you that RoobrickMarine went and wrote an entire novella starring my 16th century dog couple? It's very canon-adjacent, well researched and thoughtfully put together, has inspired me a ton during these past months and it's now publicly available at AO3. I highly recommend it.
✦ Separation ✦
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kathaynesart · 2 months ago
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REPLICA'S PATREON IS FINALLY HERE!
You’ve asked for it and now that I am back I can finally put some wonderful treats up on my brand new Patreon including a sneak peek to the next Replica update, some sketches, and Part 1 of a short story focused on Replica Donnie:
"The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Data"
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It centers around Donnie's journey towards becoming the powerhouse we know in Replica as well as the drastic steps he takes in the early months of the Krang invasion to achieve his lofty goals.
NOTE: I highly recommend signing up on a browser or desktop (not on an iPhone) due to extra fees that were recently applied.
2ND NOTE: while some things such as the Replica page WIP will eventually make their way onto my Tumblr, the sketches and these short stories will stay exclusive to Patreon for the time being. This is because most of the content on my Patreon will be focusing on sensitive themes of war, a deeper look into the characters, and maybe even a bit of romance. All things I doubt would have been touched on in the Rise canon. So think of it as just extra fluff for readers who want more secret lore from this universe. If any of these themes DO interest you then please consider checking it out HERE! (I might bring it onto Kofi, in the future if people have trouble accessing it.)
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marikodraws · 10 months ago
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You're the one person I refuse to lose to! You're the one person I refuse to lose.
🧤 Ta-da! Here's the comic I did for @rivalszine
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tea-cat-arts · 7 months ago
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Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will
#svsss#scum villian self saving system#shen qingqiu#shen yuan#the fact that people think scum villain#-a series that examines and criticizes common tropes in fiction-#is somehow against criticism or being a little hater is wild to me#especially since shen qingqiu never gets punished for being a hater#heck- he's still a little hater by the end of the series#he mostly gets punished for treating life like a play and like he and the people around him are characters#(or in other words- he suffers for denying his own wants and emotions and his own sense of empathy)#I think some of y'all underestimate how much writing/art is inspired by creaters being little haters#like example off the top of my head-#the author of Iron Widow has been pretty vocal about the book being inspired by their hatred of Darling in the Franxx#I think my interpretation of Shen Yuan's transmigration is also supported by the fact that this series is an examines writing processes#side note- though i understand why people say Shen Yuan is lazy and think its a valid take it still doesnt sit right with me#i am probably biased because my own experiences with chronic pain and depression and isolation#but ya- i dont think Shen Yuan is lazy so much as he is deeply lonely and feels purposeless after denying parts of himself for 20ish years#like yall remember the online fandom boom from covid right?#being stuck completely alone in bed while feeling like shit for 20 days straight does shit to your brain#the fact that no one came to check on him + he wasn't exactly upset about leaving anyone behind supports the isolation interpretation too#+in the skinner demon arc he describes his life of being a faker/inability to stop being a faker now that he's Shen Qingqiu#as “so bland he's tempted to throw salt on himself” and “all he could do is lay around and wait for death” (<-paraphrasing)#bro wants to be doing stuff but is stuck in paralysis from repeatedly following scrips made by other people#another point on “Shen Yuan isn’t lazy” is just the sheer amount of studying that man does#also he did graduate college- how lazy can he really be#he doesnt know what hes doing but he at least tries to actively train his students#and he actually works on improving his own cultivation + spends quite a bit of time preping the mushroom body thing#+he's experiencing bouts of debilitating chronic pain throughout all this#but ya tldr: Shen Yuan's transmigration is an encouragement to write and not a punishment and also i dont think its fair to call him lazy
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girlboyburger · 1 year ago
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I have a cow oc and I’m having a lot of trouble drawing there face any tips?
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i reaalllllly recommend doing studies! don't be scared to trace some photos to get a feel for the shapes, or just go nuts and make em cartoony! i personally try and pick out species-specific traits to emphasize when i draw furries, like a cow's barrel shaped body and small mouth, or the canine lower teeth before fangs and rounded triangle ears on wolves.
i'm not very good at explaining my process, but i hope this helps!
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allyriadayne · 6 months ago
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Hook, line and sinker: Larys and Alicent // Larys and Aegon
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ddeck · 3 months ago
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wait say more about georgian bruce wayne please
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batman au where everything's the same but bruce's parents were georgian entrepreneurs that moved to gotham city with help of some very distant american relatives
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lotus-pear · 22 days ago
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rewatched madoka magica again today bc i fucking hate myself and to absolutely no one’s surprise i went through all five stages of grief in a single evening
#let’s talk about sayaka miki for a second#genuinely the fact that her whole character is centered around tragedy almost to a shakespearean extent#she’s selfless and brave and values her justice and righteousness above all. calls herself an ally of justice#in fact i think it’s rather intriguing how her whole character is centered around “justice”#her story being a more twisted retelling of the original little mermaid#how she is initially portrayed as a very heroic and confident character even before becoming a magical girl. always shielding madoka#selling her soul to heal the boy she loved out of a selfless desire to see him well again#her being absolutely distraught abt being robbed of her humanity and betrayed by kyubey#she combats this harrowing realization by immersing herself in her duties not caring that she is slowly deteriorating in the process#becoming numb with pain and fighting recklessly and psychotically trying to drown out the pain#finally coming to the sickening conclusion that humanity doesn’t deserve her saving and she succumbs to a fate of her making#last words being “i was so stupid” which trumps her previous statement of “there’s no way i’d regret this”#ALSO? the fact that her costume and weapon are symbolic of a knight. she rly portrays this hero of justice who will protect and defend ☹️#i think abt the fact that homura said that sayaka’s wish was so selfless it was only a matter of time before she died#sayaka being the example of what happens to magical girls who go through the entire cycle and eventually become witches is so sad to me#genuinely just like. sick and twisted#very very fucked up.#characters who have their own misconstrued interpretation of “justice” or who are centered around justice in general.#you will always be dear to me.#sayaka reminds me a lot of akechi in some ways ngl#harboring an almost idealized vision of justice but it slowly rots and festers and corrupts their hearts the more immersed w it they become#actually losing their sanity when they fight bc of how much pain they’re in but refuse to acknowledge it until they break#refusing any help and wallowing in misery despite having ppl who love them and want to save them#last words are those expressing regret for being such a fool. for being ignoring#being used by yhe main villain as a stepping stone towards their true goal. they were merely a pawn#also doomed in every version of their reality. always doomed by the narrative no matter what choices they make#i have a type i fear#HAHAHAH ALSO the fact that they’re both dressed so regally compared to everyone else in their respective series#meant to portray them in a virtuous and princely light. only made more apparent by the sword being their weapon of choice#i’m gonna shut up now but they’re soo eerily similar its unnerving tbh 💀
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ghost-proofbaby · 4 months ago
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It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.
Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.
I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi
RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3
the smell of you
warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.
wc: 2.2k+
come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3
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“Eddie?”
The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 
“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 
Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 
You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 
Something unspoken. Something homely. 
“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 
When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 
He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 
“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”
“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 
“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 
You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 
Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 
The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 
“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 
“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 
It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 
He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 
When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 
“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 
“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 
“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 
He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 
One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 
“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”
“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 
“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 
You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”
“Good.” 
He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 
“Eddie!”
If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 
And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 
Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious.” 
“You’re an idiot.” 
“I’m your idiot.” 
The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 
“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 
“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 
Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”
“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 
“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 
His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”
You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 
You never grow tired of it. You never will. 
“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 
And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 
“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 
You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 
He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 
“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”
“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”
“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”
Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 
He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.
You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 
You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 
Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 
“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 
He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 
“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 
“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 
You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 
I love you.
I adore you. 
I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 
And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 
The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 
To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 
“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”
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wigglebox · 6 months ago
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Destiel Pride - Day 19; Kiss me once, kiss me twice
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eirianerisdar · 8 months ago
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As a Chinese person from Hong Kong I'm going to officially say this absolutely blows my mind. Here's why.
In the video, Charles and Carlos were plainly copying calligraphy stroke-by-stroke from a large image in front of them. What makes Carlos' attempt so impressive is that he's effectively gotten nearly all the proportions, starting and ending brush pressures and tail-offs, and the structure right. It's not perfect. But it's damn well near perfect.
Compare it to Charles': Charles didn't do a bad job at all, and has successfully copied many of the requisite features, but he has seen each stroke as a line, as many people who write Chinese characters with ballpoint pens do nowadays - point A to point B, with natural loss of shape and flow in between. It's not necessarily a problem. Charles is writing the characters. But interestingly, Carlos isn't writing at all.
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On rewinding the video you see why Carlos' was shaped so perfectly. He doesn't know Chinese. He doesn't know anything about stroke order, or speed. But he knows detail.
If you look at his hands as he writes he separated each stroke into a shape. Then he did his level best to recreate each shape as carefully as he could by pressing the brush until he could see it formed the right thickness of the line.
He didn't write, like Charles did. He painted.
If this is how good Carlos is at copying a language he does not know I wonder how amazing he would be at painting if he actually spent time to learn.
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whetstonefires · 1 year ago
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Underrated element of where Jiang Cheng is re: wwx after everything is that they always had a sort of dual relationship. Two different relationship premises, superimposed on one another.
There's the one where they grew up together, as close as brothers, beating each other up and complaining and being one another's closest companions, sharing a bedroom as kids and eating at the same family dinner table, actively encouraged by Jiang Fengmian to interact as equals.
And then there's the one where Wei Wuxian was in service to Jiang Cheng's family. Not as a servant--Jiang Fengmian absolutely refused to do that, even if he couldn't adopt him. But as a disciple of Jiang Cheng's father and recipient of his charity, as Jiang Cheng's future right hand and most trusted subordinate.
It's a vertical relationship, intimate in its own way but with very strict expectations about what obligations flow in what directions; they are not identical and reciprocal as between friends and equals.
(It's my opinion that Jiang Fengmian's core deal was a deep-seated discontent with the hierarchies he was at the top of, without access to any way to actually deconstruct them or even coherently articulate his opposition. Wei Changze was his dear friend, and no one thinks that's a good enough reason for him to treat Wei Changze's son like his own, because Wei Changze was also his servant, and you can't make that circle square. That's not a way you're allowed to love.)
Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were like brothers; Wei Wuxian served Jiang Cheng.
The personal relationship was always the most important one. To them, in their hearts. But it was the other one that was real, that had weight in the world.
And it's important to understand that neither can be held up as more factual than the other, even though they conflict. Both relationships existed, and had power.
So then when Jiang Cheng chose to hate Wei Wuxian and articulate his grudge against him, he chose to do it in the language of fealty. Because as far as he knew, his case there was secure, watertight, and it wouldn't expose him emotionally or politically.
And those are the terms in which he's been condemning him all this time: for abandoning the Sect, for ingratitude, for lack of loyalty.
For fuckups, too, and poor judgment, but some of that now turns out to have been justified and some of it was mostly the fault of enemies behaving badly, or even Jiang Cheng himself allowing himself to be pushed into making unworthy choices.
And it was all for his sake.
The thing, the thing in my opinion, about what Wei Wuxian did, about the core transfer and his silent self-destruction around keeping it secret, is that that is a hideous thing to have done between two people who love each other, as an act of love. Beautiful, but awful. As the man who was like a brother to him, Jiang Cheng has a great deal of standing to object to it.
But as an act of vassalage, it's basically perfect.
If Wei Wuxian were only what he formally was to Jiang Cheng, if he is interpreted through a lens of fealty and obligation, he did exactly what he should have done, and went beyond what duty actually required. And went to his death silently, allowing himself to be judged, taking all the burden on himself rather than let harm come to his lord.
Like, obviously Jiang Cheng was harmed by the part where Jin Zixuan got manslaughtered and Jiang Yanli walked into the line of fire in situations where Wei Wuxian was resorting to violence and probably shouldn't have, but those are one step removed from the core issue. In terms of Wei Wuxian's intentional choices around Jiang Cheng himself, at the times he was feeling betrayed and abandoned Wei Wuxian was in fact being impossibly, poetically loyal, an absolute cliche about it.
But only in terms of the hierarchical form of their relationship.
Which means that even though Jiang Cheng has a lot of reasons to still be mad at Wei Wuxian, his actual complaints that he's centered for thirteen years are basically wiped out by the revelation of Wei Wuxian's sacrifice.
Wei Wuxian was in fact doing the tragic hero loyal vassal thing, which very much includes being misunderstood and slandered by the world. (Chenqing as a name choice absolutely references this expectation, and the idea that Jiang Cheng specifically will never understand that Wei Wuxian was trying to help him first and foremost all along; he is not subtle.)
The debts Jiang Cheng has been spitefully calling in and considering defaulted were already long paid.
So if at this point Jiang Cheng keeps pursuing that same line of rhetorical attack, now that he knows, he'll be putting himself morally in the wrong, and he knows it. But if he pivots to something else, he'll both be signalling the shape of that secret to the entire world and looking like a prize idiot.
Which is already how he feels.
To actually address the remaining grievances between them, which are considerable, would require releasing those safe, open grudges to Wei Wuxian's face and then reclaiming him as a loved one. Which is, one could fairly say, more than anyone could expect.
Which is why Wei Wuxian told him he didn't have to.
Which leaves Jiang Cheng at something of an impasse.
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hirazuki · 5 months ago
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Sasori + Sakura moments by @justshipsandstuff, based on my fic.
This was such a lovely surprise to receive?!! 🥹 I absolutely adore your style, and these two look SO CUTE in it, and everything is just so soft and precious and your expressions are amazing, and the whole atmosphere is exactly the vibe I was aiming for in my writing, and and and and a;lskdjflksdjflsdkjf.
Thank you so much for this!!! 😭💖
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mr-urple · 9 days ago
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phenomenon i've noticed about my speech
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vaguely-concerned · 5 months ago
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...the 'almond room' thing in the unwanted guest IS a reference to/play on words on amygdala, right? (amygdala comes from the greek word for almond!) I didn't read that wrong? it is stupid sexy Ianthe coyly inviting Palamedes into a different chamber of her brain, as it were?
(also the pieces of meat -- the feeding or kissing, it's hard to say which of it all -- being present right from the beginning... ianthe DOES know exactly what has happened to her, doesn't she. palamedes is just cutting his way through her layers of denial and repression all merciless and scalpel-like to get her to admit it. or, she knows subconsciously at least -- each person comes in and feeds her something that she's helpless to stop from becoming a part of her even in her coffin, with bloody kisses. oh baby love is feeding me bad meat and I have no choice but to swallow it down. like yeah I suspect that is how human contact can feel when your sense of self and boundaries developed to be a specific kind of Fucked Up lol. that shit could make a person dream of being a diamond in a glass of wine; perfect, inviolable, untouchable, eternally separate and safe. In the words of Andrea Gibson in Prism:
They say the womb is where we learn love is knowing the cord that feeds you could at any moment wrap around your neck
that is quite literally ianthe's first introduction to love -- her sister, a cord around her neck. Corona is Ianthe's other self, a second soul running around outside of her body, and she seems to consider herself as responsible for (and entitled to) the preservation of Corona's soul as her own. the way this mirrors that growing up, Ianthe had to be two necromancers in one body to let them stay together. (twins and ghosts all the way down I guess.) she's still just trying to do the same thing, I think, she's simply put on some bigger boots about it. the central problem of lyctorhood, self vs. connection/love, rears its head once again -- Ianthe existentially wants total self-contained self-sufficiency, perfect control, sovereign sway and masterdom over her soul... but she wants that at the same time as being in uninterrupted (uninterruptible!), eternal and indelible intimacy with her sister, whose soul also cannot be allowed to change. which, you know. freedom and love don't coexist the way you want them to, Ianthe, no matter how clever you are there won't be a way to get what you want. (especially not with a sister whose idea of what love is seems to go more towards being consumed, made one, by whatever violence necessary -- 'she could have taken me'.) man. Ianthe is a spectacular and ongoing piece of work, but sometimes it's hard to see how she could ever have turned out otherwise considering the conditions she was born and raised under haha.
the two-way street of the horror of digestion, whether you're the devourer or the devouree. part of you in me, part of me in you, whether either of us likes it or not we're both changed by this. bad news: you can't get out of interconnectedness by finding the cleverest loophole around it, ianthe. nice try, though)
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