#i've also started writing poems again

[astrxealis]

okay rambles but i started creatively writing in like ... 5th grade? and. oh god just a little encouragement to anyone looking to get into writing or insecure or whatnot, but HELLS, maybe it's to he expected with my (obviously) very young age and inexperience with writing then, but my writing was really. yeah. Yeah. but then i'm what... a lot older now, obviously, and my writing has gotten leagues better. i'm probably not a good example for this bcs childhood years development stuff are different etc etc BUT practicing writing more and whatnot really does go a long way :]

[astronicht]

Okay I'm almost done with Fellowship, here's an incomplete list of shit I noticed and thought was buck fucking wild on my first ever read-thru: medieval edition.

In literally the second line of the book, Tolkien implies that Bilbo Baggins wrote a story which was preserved alongside the in-universe version of the Mabinogion (aka the best-known collection of Welsh myths; I promise this is batshit). This is because The Hobbit has been preserved, in Tolkien's AU version of our world, in a "selection of the Red Book of Westmarch" (Prologue, Concerning Hobbits). If you're a medievalist and you see something called "The Red Book of" or "The Black Book of" etc it's a Thing. In this case, a cheeky reference to the Red Book of Hergest (Llyfr Coch Hergest). There are a few Red Books, but only Hergest has stories).

not a medieval thing but i did not expect one common theory among hobbits for the death of Frodo's parents to be A RUMORED MURDER-SUICIDE.

At the beginning of the book a few hobbits report seeing a moving elm tree up on the moors, heading west (thru or past the Shire). I mentioned this in another post, but another rule: if you see an elm tree, that's a Girl Tree. In Norse creation myth, the first people were carved from driftwood by the gods. Their names were Askr (Ash, as in the tree), the first man, and Embla (debated, but likely elm tree), the first woman. A lot of ppl have I think guessed that that was an ent-wife, but like. Literally that was a GIRL. TREE.

Medieval thing: I used to read the runes on the covers of The Hobbit and LOTR for fun when I worked in a bookshop. There's a mix of Old Norse (viking) and Old English runes in use, but all the ones I've noticed so far are real and readable if you know runes.

Tom Bombadil makes perfect sense if you once spent months of your life researching the early medieval art of galdor, which was the use of poems or songs to do a form of word-magic, often incorporating gibberish. If you think maybe Tolkien did not base the entirety of Fellowship so far around learning and using galdor and thus the power of words and stories, that is fine I cannot force you. He did personally translate "galdor" in Beowulf as "spell" (spell, amusingly, used to mean "story"). And also he named an elf Galdor. Like he very much did name an elf Galdor.

Tom Bombadil in fact does galdor from the moment we meet him. He arrives and fights the evil galdor (song) of the willow tree ("old gray willow-man, he's a mighty singer"), which is singing the hobbits to sleep and possibly eating them, with a galdor (song) of his own. Then he wanders off still singing, incorporating gibberish. I think it was at this point that I started clawing my face.

THEN Tom Bombadil makes perfect sense if you've read the description of the scop's songs in Beowulf (Beowulf again, but hey, Tolkien did famously a. translate it b. write a fanfiction about it called Sellic Spell where he gave Beowulf an arguably homoerotic Best Friend). The scop (pronounched shop) is a poet who sings about deeds on earth, but also by profession must know how to sing the song or tell the story of how the cosmos itself came to be. The wise-singer who knows the deep lore of the early universe is a standard trope in Old English literature, not just Beowulf! Anyway Tom Bombadil takes everyone home and tells them THE ENTIRE STORY OF ALL THE AGES OF THE EARTH BACKWARDS UNTIL JUST BEFORE THE MOMENT OF CREATION, THE BIG BANG ITSELF and then Frodo Baggins falls asleep.

Tom Bombadil knows about plate tectonics

This is sort of a lie, Tom Bombadil describes the oceans of old being in a different place, which works as a standard visual of Old English creation, which being Christian followed vaguely Genesis lines, and vaguely Christian Genesis involves a lot of water. TOLKIEN knew about plate tectonics though.

Actually I just checked whether Tolkien knew about plate tectonics because I know the advent of plate tectonics theory took forever bc people HATED it and Alfred Wegener suffered for like 50 years. So! actually while Tolkien was writing LOTR, the scientific community was literally still not sure plate tectonics existed. Tom Bombadil knew tho.

Remember that next time you (a geologist) are forced to look at the Middle Earth map.

I'm not even done with Tom Bombadil but I'm stopping here tonight. Plate tectonics got me. There's a great early (but almost high!) medieval treatise on cosmology and also volcanoes and i wonder if tolkien read it. oh my god. i'm going to bed.

edit: part II

[neil-gaiman]

hi dad,

ok i know ur not -really- my dad lmao just let me cope. i lost mine, so you're stuck with that title now. anyway. i just felt like telling you how great things seem to be going for me rn (fuck i hope i don't curse it). i've been a fan for a long ass time, but i got into the GO fandom only last year, and in just a few months i feel like i've gotten so much better, both mental health wise and creatively. i'm a neat little bundle of depression, anxiety, autiADHD, BPD, and cPTSD. isn't that lovely haha. but hey, i'm also a writer. a poet. an artist. and a helluva burned out musician. BUT. ever since i've been hanging out here, i've been writing SO much more, i've been doing fanfics, and so many cool poems, and improving my writing skills so much. i started drawing again after like 2 years of not touching a goddamn pencil, and i just bought some paint and a canvas bc i wanna get back into painting again like i used to when i was younger. and also through reading other GO fics, i've felt inspired to play piano again, which was a great deal to me a few years back. and it's awesome to feel that spark again.

Good Omens has meant a lot to me since i first read it around 2015. but now more than ever because there's a whole community i can share stuff about it with and it feels great. i recently lost a close group of friends, one of my best friends to suicide, and well. my irl dad. and i've been feeling hella lonely for a long time. but i feel like i've been gaining that sense of community again through good omens. and i can't tell you enough how much it means to me. so, idk. i guess i wanted to say thanks for that. and also for being so supportive of trans/queer people. it means the world to me. so. thanks dad. ily

I'm just glad I'm helping.

[tossawary]

For a while, I kept periodically thinking about F/M Wangxian (Male Wei Wuxian and Female Lan Wangji) without being able to figure out why I kept being distracted by F/M Wangxian. I mean, I think different genderbending AU situations are fun to think about in fanfiction, especially in worlds where gender roles are a problem. M/M, F/M, M/F, and F/F Wangxian all change the story slightly and I think it's neat to explore why and how.

And obviously, F!LWJ would be a total babe, that's nice to think about, but why still M!WWX and not F!WWX? F!WWX would also be a total babe, though of a different type, especially as the Yiling Patriarch. But my brain kept insisting that M!WWX was still crucial somehow and I couldn't figure out why that setup.

I mean, it is funny to think about how M!WWX's unchanged flirty behavior in their teenage years would suddenly set off every single alarm bell in the Cloud Recesses due to people being able to SEE IT thanks to heteronormativity goggles. WWX with a degree of societal permission to be romantically interested in Lan Wangji? Intolerable levels of annoying. Unbearable to witness. Singing love songs under her balcony type bullshit like he wants her to start another fight under the moonlight. He's writing her poetry (clever "joke" poems bordering on innuendo and actual romantic poems) and has the gall to be good at it. Lan Qiren is barely resisting the urge to beat WWX off with a broomstick. Lan Xichen doesn't know whether to be horrified or delighted (LWJ is bluuuuushing).

I do also like the idea of WWX coming back from the dead and finding out that the common people have decided in the past decade (thanks to the heteronormativity goggles) that the noble female cultivator LWJ had a Tragic Romance with the Evil Yiling Patriarch. Poor woman! WWX: "Who had a what now?" (I do also like the idea of Wangxian actually having a Tragic Romance during and after the war. And mutually stated romantic interest and affection still didn't fix anything for them. But it's funny to think about WWX getting completely blindsided by this EPIC LOVE STORY if there was no actual relationship.)

(Sizhui is still adopted here! Noble and pure-hearted LWJ adopted a war orphan because she longed to be a mother but swore never to love again after the Yiling Patriarch broke her heart, obviously! WWX, listening to this gossip: "She what? I mean, Lan Zhan would make an amazing mom, good for her, lucky kid, and no one is good enough for her if she doesn't want to get married, but seriously, I cannot stress this enough, what the fuck. She didn't like me back! Aiyah, I bet she's still so mad at me for ruining her reputation like this.")

Eventually, I realized that the key piece of this AU that I was missing was that I wanted to write F/M Wangxian that turned into F/F Wangxian. Because I think Transfem Wei Wuxian would display (and I mean this affectionately) the most ridiculous trans egg behavior imaginable, especially because it would lean more towards one of those "I was mostly fine living as a guy, but I'm so much happier as a girl" situations. Absurd amounts of queer foreshadowing.

So, Wei Wuxian gets resurrected into a female MXY's body or something and obliviously goes, "Oh! This is nice! I've always wanted to try being a woman! Yes, I can roll with this." And eventually Wei Wuxian has to actually examine the fact that she really likes being a woman and doesn't want to "go back" to being a man in any way, but not before putting Lan Wangji through an incredible amount of new "joke" flirtation. And people who knew WWX before are like... "Hmm. Some things are making sense now."

Things like: 1) As a teenager, WWX insisted that LWJ was such a strong woman that, if they got married, LWJ could be "the husband" and "he" would happily be "the wife". There were lots and lots of "I want to live as Jiejie's spoiled wife" jokes. Consequently, at the Cloud Recesses, at least one outrageously inappropriate joke was made by WWX about LWJ knocking "him" up, because WWX's breeding kink is still very much a thing. WWX didn't know about her breeding kink when she made that joke; both she and LWJ learned something about themselves that day.

2) Wei Wuxian would frequently pull crossdressing-related pranks saying: "Wow, this is crazy. I can't believe you guys are forcing me to put on a dress and all this makeup for this prank! You guys are wild!" And Jiang Cheng would reply: "No one is forcing you to do this. No one dared you. You suddenly volunteered to crossdress for a prank that does not require crossdressing AGAIN. Also, give me that brush, I'll do your makeup because you suck ass at it."

3) WWX would frequently go on rants about how women are so much more beautiful than men, which flew under the radar as a "normal behavior for a lustful young man", but there was always something a little off about it. Like, WWX might say that women are so beautiful and perfect that everyone would choose to be one if allowed to pick before being born just to admire the gorgeous view, and JC might say, "I don't think that's quite right...?" But WWX would just say something like (like an obnoxious teenage sibling), "That's because you know that you'd make an ugly woman!" or, "Are you saying that women aren't perfect? Also, are you saying Shijie isn't the best person in the world?" And JC would have to be like, "I didn't say that! And I'd make a beautiful woman, fuck you! Also, how is that relevant to your point?"

By the end of this AU, there is at least one public love confession that is horribly embarrassing for everyone else to witness, in which Wei Wuxian has finally realized that LWJ used to be in love with "him" and that she loves LWJ back, but tearfully apologizes because she can't be the handsome man that LWJ loved anymore. Even if she could be a man again, she still doesn't want to stop being a woman, even if she's not very good at it yet. She can't perform the required husbandly duties like provide a good home for LWJ! She can't father LWJ's children anymore!

(Jiang Cheng: "Do you have to do this now?! Stop being indecent! There are children here. Also, we're all being held hostage.")

But it's all cool! Because shortly after realizing WWX was back and determined to live as a woman, LWJ speedran a sexuality crisis, flipped a mental switch, and essentially went, "I'm a lesbian now." (Or maybe LWJ was really confused about being attracted to WWX when they first met, because LWJ had only been physically attracted to her fellow female disciples up until then, so WWX seemed like the "exception", until WWX comes back from the dead as a woman and then it's like, "Ah. Not an exception after all.")

[squishymamasboy]

Spoiler warning for the fic tbh

I DID IT. Printed my fav fic [Debaser (trans & cis version) by @sharpth1ng] and I didn't expect it to arrive so early but I'm very happy.

(scrapbooking I did for the fic, bad poem I wrote inspired by the fic)

I've said it before but that fic really is THAT great. Like a shakespearean tragedy with all the heart and gut wrenching bits that you need to get hooked. I couldn't stop reading it once I started (also I'm on my 12th re-read 💀)

I just love how the author characterizes these two bc to me it's super canon. It just fits in perfectly with the first movie.

I especially love how Stu has so much of his own agency in it. How it has so much smut and still feels like a slow burn. How the sex means something every time. How it hits all of my favourite tropes. How it inspires me to create something again.

The author's writing style and metaphors have me in a chokehold I love it so much. And I told the author before but this book is THICK!!! LIKE!!! He's out here writing a whole ass book for us for free and I'm so very grateful 😭

Honestly feel like this fic saved 2023 for me.

[btdemaru]

Obey Me! Dating fluff headcanon.

ft. The 7 demon brothers seperate

(obey me brothers x GN! Reader)

Note : these r just the headcanon + love language that i think would fit them, if it's abit ooc i apologize!

Warning : slightly suggestive

Lucifer

his love language is definitely acts of service and quality time

Opening doors for you, pouring you a cup of coffee he made just for the both of you

Whenever he's doing work and you're in the room with him, he'd probably pull you onto his lap

Lucifer loves and always enjoys the times you spend together frfr

Even if it's just in his room, going for night walks, fancy dinners and so on

If you guys go out for dinner or just grocery shopping he would definitely put his hand around your waist just to show everyone there that you're his

He'll say that hes a little overprotective.. even tho 'little' is far from how protective he actually is 💀

Tends to overwork himself so you have to force him to get his ass to bed whether you drag him or not

Is too prideful to admit that he craves your hugs and cuddles every night

Mostly calls you 'my love' or 'my dearest'

If you disturb him while he's working on a deadline or just giving him an attitude he'd definitely be pissed and wouldn't hesitate to put your bratty attitude in place

Loves kissing your lips and neck

Mammon

I think his love language is gifting (more to receiving gifts lmfao) and physical touch

Will make you his lucky charm when he's gambling 😉

If he won, you're in for a treat! Would spend the money he won on you by buying you new clothes, shoes, jewelry or even a lingerie (more of a gift for him tbh)

Mammon is very caring towards you so when he sees that you're down or upset he'd definitely will try his hardest to cheer you up

Which probably is easy since he's such a fun demon to he around with so you're never bored with him around

I think his nicknames for you that he uses alot is probably 'stupid' or 'human'

Ofcourse he doesn't mean it when hes insulting you though

If he hears anyone insulting you he'd make a scene which sometimes mostly isn't really needed if you dont give a shit about what other demon/people say.

Favorite parts of you he likes to kiss is your cheeks

Leviathan

I've always imagined him as a sweet boy (so breedable)

His love language? Quality time and maybe physical touch <3

He's mostly in his room, so when you invited yourself in and started talking about how you like his interest he'd burst right there and then.

Loves your touch, perhaps abit clingy..? Typa guy who'd snuggle with you in bed while he's playing games or sitting on your lap while he's fighting bosses 👌

has difficulty accepting that you choose to spend time with him or even dating him

If you decide to cosplay just for his eyes only his brain would malfunctioned, face and ears all red flushed

Tbh he'd get just a teeny tiny bit jealous when you pay more attention to henry 2.0 than him but he thinks it's cute that you also care for his little goldfish.

Would call you 'normie' or just by your name

Loves when you reassure him no matter the situation, when he has nightmares or his self-esteem isn't good or more.

Kisses your inner thighs or hand

Satan

Maybe word of affirmation?

Satan would write and reads the poems he made just for you

Most likely he'll read you stories if you're struggling to sleep or has insomnia

he will let you read him the book he's reading while he lays on your lap demanding his head to be stroked as well

Favorite activity with you is reading together in bed the whole day or going to a cat cafe, taking pictures of you holding a cat (would probably make it his wallpaper)

He can be harsh sometimes especially when he just had an argument again with Lucifer and would apologize dearly when he lashes out at you.

Not much of a PDA fan but will hold your hand when the you're going out together

Idk abt nicknames but probably 'kitten' (?) Or 'darling'

Satan will keep every cat item you gave him (keychain, plushie ect)

Kisses your right hand alot along with your lips

Asmodeus

Physical touch 🔛🔝

We all know he's flirty and he won't hide it

He loves PDA so be prepared lmaoo, he'll hold your hand/waist or give you random kisses here and there whether it's on your lips, neck, hand anywhere!

You guys would go on shopping dates ALOT, he loves picking clothes for you and once even tried going in to the changing room with you to "help".

Shopping with him takes pretty long- after buying clothes he goes to buy perfume then shoes then nail polishes then this and that, but no worries he'd spoil you to buy whatever you want there

Asmo buys alot of matching outfits for the both of you

Without you noticing he'd probably buy new toys every now and then for the both of you to try (iykyk)

Another favorite activity he likes to drag you into is warm steamy baths together, just the thought of your bare body touching gets him excited!

Has plenty of nickname for you its uncountable 'sweetie', 'love', 'darling', 'dollface', 'hottie' and 'sexy'

Beelzebub

quality time

This big boy melts like putty when you cook for him, whether it's a dish from where you came from to his favorite foods

Likes to cuddle with you while eating chips, the crumbs tend to get all over you but he has no problem cleaning it up with his mouth

Ask you on a movie date alot (bringing snacks and food is a must!!)

Loves when you're watching him exercise and would be happy if you join him

He'd blush hard if he notice you staring at his body (who wouldn't tbh)

Sometimes but rarely ask his twin brother to join on sleepy dates

Usually would walk behind you or hold your hands, nobody would dare to do anything to you if he's around- he would throw hands if you got physically hurt by someone- so you'll definitely feel safe with him

'honey' or food based stuff is probably his favorite nickname to call you.

I think he'd bite you softly more than kisses, but if he does kisses you it's mostly collarbone or forehead

Belphegor

Like his twin beel, loves quality time with you!

Your dates with him would probably 99.999% be sleepy dates and cuddles

Always ask you to sleep next to him, bodies tangled together and just so comfy he LOVES it!

I personally like to think that he purrs- so imagine him purring loudly while you give him head pats and sleeping on your chest.

Gives you the right airpods/headset so you both can relax while listening to music together, just enjoying each other's company

His body temperature is ice cold so if you're a warm person expect him to cling to you everywhere

If you aren't there he'd probably pouts while hugging his pile of stuffed animals and pillows until you get back

Hogs your lap purposely if you're having a conversation with beel, belphie pretends to be asleep tho he's listening to both of your convo.

Nicknames? I think he'd just call you by your name.

Sleepy kisses on your lips, sometimes sloppy makeout sessions.

[waitingforthesunrise]

i've been seeing so many relationship reels. all saying things like 'in the end, it's the one who listens to you ramble' 'who makes you want to go see the sun again' 'who you learn a language for' 'who makes you want to eat' 'who makes you want to dance again' 'who makes you want to start writing/painting/crafting/singing again' and so basically...it's the one who made you want to not only live, but to live fully. who reminded you that to live is to hurt but also to love. who made you feel like yes ofc there's an ending but my god!!! there is so many beginnings. there is so many poems and songs and books and i want to create again, i want to dance, i want to eat, i want to DO SOMETHING with all this love. i loved you and it made me love life so fully i couldn't contain it. i loved you and it made me look at everything with a softer gaze; your kindness colored my world so fully that I no longer feared the night. you have loved me, and it has made me love myself a little more.

[meichenxi]

languages, travel, identity, grief

Maybe some of you have heard of Xu Zhimo's Second Farewell to Cambridge (徐志摩 再別康橋 Translation: Saying Goodbye to Cambridge Again, by Xu Zhimo | East Asia Student). It's an achingly lovely poem about a Chinese scholar who studied in the UK, and how he left so gently, taking nothing with him as he went. It brought me solace over the last year.

I thought for a very long time about how I felt about having to leave China, and what it felt like to mourn for a future that was never going to mine. I cried. How am I supposed to explain why? I'm not Chinese. I've got no family there, or a childhood to look back on. I couldn't explain it even to myself.

That pain was coupled with a type of uncertainty, a discomfort at myself for feeling so strongly. This feeling was not allowed. It meant - what? Something awful, probably. I was a racist, probably. I should hate myself, probably. Fetishization is the word that gets thrown around for white people and their time spent in East Asia at one end of the spectrum - at the other end it's just seen as embarrassing and deeply, you know, cringe. It's a self-interrogation - why do I feel so sad? Why do I feel this pull so strongly anyway, to a country that's not even mine? Why should it matter so much when I leave? I didn't feel like this grief has any sort of legitimacy. But it has taken from September - eight months after leaving - for me to pick up Chinese again.

I felt, for months, hollow and unsettled and drifting from place to place. I opened my textbook, and closed it again. The memories there were too painful. I'm not going to write about why I had to leave, but it wasn't by choice. I had loved the people in the school, even if it was for a short time. When you have no internet and are training eight hours a day, the days are coloured more sharply: bright and hurtful and wonderful all at once. We had no running water. It was in an abandoned hotel. I miss the monk at the temple door opposite the school, always on time at 6am to open it for our classes. I miss the folk at the local shop who invited me to watch films on their projector; once they killed a chicken for us. I miss the woman in the woods who gave me the chestnuts she had picked. I gave the chestnuts to the cook, and we steamed them and ate them by the lake. He wanted me to marry his son; he wanted it so strongly that he brought me pork, and desserts, and gave me paper, and promised me I could have a jade bracelet, that he would buy me a house. I miss the oldest martial arts teacher, who spoke in such strong dialect I could barely understand him. When I was sad and missing home one night, he told me that I should stay after dinner. In the silence and against the cicadas, he started to play the erhu for me. Later, my friend told me that he hadn't know what to say, how to comfort me; I was a foreigner and a young woman, after all. We had very little in common. But nobody has ever played a piece of music for me like that before.

And I miss X, my best friend there and partner in snack-smuggling crime. She is 19 years old, and a janitor's daughter, and one of the wisest people I have ever met. (She also rides an excellent motorbike, and lent me her hanfu, and we sped through the city giddy with our own daring and trying not to be caught.) We got matching haircuts; she had always wanted to cut her hair like a boy, and was too scared to do it alone. When I left, I told her to stay in touch: she shook her head. She said that some people were meant to know each other for some time, and no more. I think the death of friendship by attrition, by - as Elrond said! - the slow decay of time, is one of the saddest things of all. I deleted Wechat. I don't want to read over the old messages. By having this place - her, and the chestnuts, and the cicadas - as a memory, I can tuck it away it. I can keep it close.

I wrote a poem myself on the plane. That was the last I thought about China, the last thought I let myself have, in eight months. I kept myself away from it. It felt like a wound. And against that hollowness, there was constantly the question: Why should I have any right to miss this place? Who I am there? Why does it matter? We are all different people, wherever we go, and whoever we are with; we wear different skins, large or small. In China I was [...]. She was who I was. That name, that I introduced myself to people with - she was bright and friendly and tried to translate things just so. Everybody who goes as the only foreigner to a place - or the only foreigner that speaks the language - is a little bit self-obsessed. It happens. It's unfortunate, and something to guard against. But it also gives you its own kind of identity in a way: your identity is Foreigner. Your identity is a cultural bridge. Everyone you meet, in a country as friendly and curious as China, has questions about you. You stand with your feet in both worlds, and are not really part of either of them. That identity is easy to slip into, like cool water, like trying on new clothes. It's easier that thinking: who am I outside of that? Where am I going? I don't really know. I don't think anyone really does.

And then the second thing happens. I speak Chinese well, by this point. My accent is there, but it's slight. I am short, and have dark hair, and a generally similar build to many East Asians - so the questions I have got in the last few years have changed. Sometimes people think I have been raised here. Sometimes they think I am ethnically Russian, and nationally Chinese. Sometimes I get asked if I am half Chinese. Usually they know I am a Foreigner, 100% white - but not always. There is a peculiar rush that comes from that acceptance; from feeling the relief, just for fifteen minutes, that you belong. It's not about 'passing', or race-bending, or anything twisted - it's nothing so unnerving as that. It's just the human need to belong. Everyone gets tired of being stared at, after a while. And after a while, you start to think - I wish I understood. I wish they understood. I wish this were easy.

But then the conversation keeps going. You don't know a local word, or you misunderstand. You say something in a strange way, or you make a strange gesture, and the glass shatters, and - there you are again, naked again, exhausted again, explaining yourself again. That's the other half of it. There's solace in the Foreigner identity, because that means that's all you are. You don't have to think about your parents, or whether they worry about you so far from home; of course they do. The Foreigner is good and filial and a wonderful daughter. You can craft her into any shape you like. But it also marks you out again and again, endlessly and again, as Other.

There was a paper published a while ago that showed measures of acceptance of non-natives in native-speaking communities. It highlights a strange, but familiar experience to those who have lived abroad - the people who spoke the language to a medium level felt more accepted and less lonely than those that spoke the language to a high degree. It makes sense, and mirrors what I have found with both Chinese and German. When you speak a little Chinese, you are a wonder - a curiousity! Look at the Western girl go! People are kind, and curious, and will slow down to include you in conversations. You are thrilled with what you can access - all this knowledge, that other people don't have! Look how special you are!

And then you get better. And then you realise, cut by cut, that you will never be one of them. You don't want to be Chinese, per se; but you do want to be accepted. You are happy to be British; but you miss China like a wound, an old one, festering, even when it was never yours. How do you tell your family that you are not grieving a lost romance, a beautiful girl, but a language and a life? That there are words of majesty, of playfulness, that will never be yours? You speak well enough that people no longer bother to dumb things down, or explain them; you sit with your discomfort, smile painted on, because - you know. It's not bad. You understand most of it. And on the edge of that circle, smiling uncertainly, following the vast majority of what is being said, you are not clever enough and not witty enough to keep up with the chengyu, the cultural references, the slang, and the raucous laughter around you erupts, and you don't know what you've missed, and everybody says - she's quiet, that one. Maybe all the foreigners are? And all you are doing is sitting and feeling the distance between You and Them as heavy and as stifled in your chest as an ocean of dark.

So you go back. Back to your people. But when you sit with the other foreigners, you are apart. They laugh; what are these nutters doing? The Chinese don't make any sense. The Chinese do this - they do that. You sit there, and then there is a pressure building in your chest too, a discomfort, the desire to stand up and say - well, actually.

You are responsible for everything the Chinese teachers do, and have to explain things in a way that the students understand - Confucian thought, and Buddhist philosophy, translated in pithy bite-size adages for the West. You have no qualifications for this; everything you assert, you feel unsure. Uncertain. Someone else could explain it better, more nuanced, and you need to do more reading anyway - but here you are, and here they are, and you're the only one. And you do know. Not enough, but enough that their jokes, their pains, make you uncomfortable. You feel the need to defend both parties; to be a diplomat, every second of every day. In turn, when the students come to the teachers with problems, you have to translate their grievances in a way that the Chinese teachers will be sympathetic towards. Once I got asked: why do you never join us after class? Why are you always so quiet when you're not working? As a translator, you are always working. Every time you speak, you are working; what you choose to say, and what you choose to not say, and where you choose to intervene. You are building relationships, and disappearing, and you are becoming invisible, and you're a nothing, and you're everyone and you're nobody and nobody realises you are doing anything more than translating at all.

I wanted to stay. I couldn't have stayed. I wanted to be accepted as one of them. I wanted to be accepted for who I was. That means a foreigner. I wanted to be true to myself, which means that I would always be the Foreigner, which means I would always be apart from them. It is that contrast and juxtaposition which causes the grief. And there was never an ending to it, a resolution, a chance to reconcile myself (in China) with myself (in the UK), because all at once I had to leave. The grief comes most from the second arrow - not the pain of leaving, but the bewilderment of not knowing why I was in pain at all.

It's been eight months. Slowly, as spring comes, I feel like I am on surer ground. I can look at my old books, those painstaking notes, and I could look at new ones too and I'm starting to think, because this is what I tell my students, and maybe there's some truth in it - it's okay if you're not perfect. It's okay if you didn't achieve what you wanted to, and that the language - in its wholeness, and who can ever know that? - will never, not quite, be yours. It's the struggle and the process that means that I will know and understand Chinese in a different way, in my own way, in a slanted-to-reality sort of way, that is a treasure in and of itself. There is beauty in its brokenness too.

And there is sorrow, too. The sorrow that comes with easing yourself into a different life, and it holding you gently for a while. I sat there - I spoke to them. It's not only missing a place; it's missing a person you were, a stage of your life, for a time. It's knowing that a place has reached inside your ribs and taken root there - even if you don't return, you can never fully get rid of that again. You are two people now, with feet straddling two oceans. There are parts of you that loved and suffered and hated and grew in Chinese, not English. You can't explain that. You can't even begin. Sometimes - not often - you are a stranger in your own land. The poets spoke of that. In the age of fast travel, of the weekend break, we have forgotten the ways a place can burrow itself inside you, and find its own home.

It's not the same as the grief that someone Chinese will face. But it's still grief. I have put my life into Chinese. Maybe that is all it takes to grow love.

Now, I turn back to Chinese - as a foreigner, as Melissa, as myself. It's a bittersweet thing. I know that I cannot hold all of it. It will spill out, like the sun, and there is no way I can be that without losing myself and my history and my own green woods. But I think I am ready now. I am surer, and a little steadier on my feet.

[loveinhawkins]

Hi! I've never messaged you before, but your writing is some of my very favorite on Tumblr! I love that you have Steve as a poetry fan, and a fan of Simon and Garfunkel! I was reading the poem Richard Cory, and it made me think of a young Steve, the one people only see as a King, as a spoiled rich boy, not seeing his pain and trauma. Even his friends seem to gloss over it. And I can imagine him and Eddie in English class, and Eddie barely paying attention, but seeing how Steve subtly reacts to the poem when they read it, and Eddie wondering if maybe there's more to him than he'd previously thought! I found out that Simon and Garfunkel made it into a song, too, and that really sent it home! I hope you have a wonderful day, thank you for sharing your wonderful stories with us!

you are so kind, thank you so much. i hope you have a wonderful day too ❤️

oh, this has so many things i love. the poem & simon & garfunkel references (cw for references to suicide in both the poem & song lyrics), how Steve views himself and his high school persona vs how Eddie sees him—like, I could quote the whole poem but:

he fluttered pulses when he said, “Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.

Steve glittering as he walks! Eddie in denial that his pulse is also fluttering! ❤️

and them fleetingly crossing paths in high school is one of my absolute favourite things to think about, as well as them sharing the same English class at some point.

And when they read that poem… Eddie silently notices things. How Steve’s reaction stands out amidst the typically bored, glazed-eyes expression of other students. Eddie can see out of the corner of his eye how Steve reads the poem over and over, the subtle swallow, the shift in his jaw. The crease in the middle of his forehead that somehow seems more than just straightforward confusion.

But then he puts it out of his head—until, that is, an English period when the teacher says the whole lesson is just for silent reading. And Eddie hears a, “Psst,” coming from his left.

He doesn’t realise that it’s Steve Harrington trying to catch his attention, assumes it’s just someone trying to piss him off, so he snaps, “What?” a little harsher than warranted.

He almost does a double take at the way Steve shrinks back in his seat—not obviously so, but just enough for Eddie to notice.

“… Nothing. I’ll leave you alone,” Steve says shortly.

Eddie feels a flash of guilt. Sighs. “What?”

“Just… you’ve done this class before, right?”

“Fucking astute observation, Harrington.”

“Shut up. I just…” And Steve hands Eddie his photocopy of the poem, points at the top of the page. “Do you get this stuff?”

There’s a pause where Eddie scans the poem—and, Jesus, there’s a lot of annotations. Like, a lot. There’s even parts where Steve’s writing gets all cramped in between the stanzas, because he’s got a helluva lot to say, apparently.

Then he sees the part Steve’s pointing at, where there’s a scrawl of: Metre???

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie says. “I get what… it’s, like, the rhythm of it. Where the emphasis is on each word and stuff.”

Steve actually has the audacity to roll his eyes at Eddie’s, in his opinion, very generous explanation. “Yeah, I get all that in theory, but I can’t, like, hear it, y’know?”

And well, Eddie’s in a band. He knows a thing or two about rhythm. So he leans over and taps the rhythm out with his finger on Steve’s desk. He can’t remember the proper term for it, but he rambles, “It’s the same rhythm in Shakespeare plays? Kinda like a heartbeat.”

It must click for Steve, because sometime during Eddie talking, he starts tapping out the beat, too. Their knuckles almost touch. Not quite.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve says distractedly, as he takes his paper back and starts writing again.

And for the rest of the lesson, Eddie has to consider the fact that Steve Harrington truly knows his name, like he didn’t even have to think about it; like the freak moniker didn’t even occur to him.

[noomiu]

Whats your favorite rock lee fics?

hi anon and ! i have too many of those 🤭 but here are the ones i can think of off the top of my head ! literally all of these are gaalee fics and most of them are by a_gay_poster on ao3 bc ??? they're amazing i worship them and if ur a gaalee fanatic u should too !!!

where our bodies start by a_gay_poster on ao3

this fic is so GOOD i love the bit where gaara is teaching lee to use ninjutsu it's so wholesome

i bear your scars (i bare my scars) by a_gay_poster on ao3

again, this is literally such a wholesome fic it makes me wanna bawl i love these two

as rare as rain by chinesefirethorn on ao3

this is such a goOD WORK and i love naruto's cluelessness pls !!! it's just so cute

jealous by a_gay_poster on ao3

this fic is !!! just so good !!! i've read it so many times now and i love how it gives insight into gaara's feelings towards how friendly of a person lee is ??? like the bit with shira-kun is one of my favorite bits in writing ever !!! also gaara being scared he'll have to explain his lack of progress in taijutsu to shira lolololol it's so good also the two girls giggling at lee while he's out in the rain ? that's my two personalities yw

to love like broken glass by a_gay_poster on ao3

this is so so so good because ! it gives insight into lee's feelings of jealousy and i love that so much ? especially when he sort of snaps and goes "you should leave" like YES gimme irrationally angry lee thank u

relief by a_gay_poster on ao3

this work is the epitome of a lot of words does not equal quality because !!! it's so good !!! i love it

a beast, a burden by a_gay_poster on ao3

this was such a nice read. i love how it looks into gaalee during their younger years (chunin exams) and lmao not at gaara being convinced that lee is using a genjutsu

thirst trap by a_gay_poster on ao3

this is SUCH A FUN READ !!! literally loved reading this so much and the podfic it inspired was also very lovely !!!

haiku by kleine_wolke on ao3

this is just a pretty story honestly . the writing is literally that, pretty, especially the poems and the little descriptive bits ! i also love lee's cluelessness here

hot stuff, baby by urieskooki on ao3

this is just perfect, like yes, this is definitely how lee would behave 1000% like he would wipe away slurpee with his leg warmer u cannot convince me otherwise

skeleton key by a_gay_poster on ao3

this is the greatest story in the history of gaalee stories for me because it was the first proper gaalee fic i ever read

perspective by a_gay_poster on ao3

THIS IS SO FUNNY LMAO it's so hilarious especially the end !!! i am lee's neighbor she is me istg

getalong by a_gay_poster on ao3

this was my gateway drug to this pairing and i love it more than i love my dad

but yes anon thank u sm for the ask !!! it was so nice to look back on all of these fun fics that i love sm !! they're all so good !!

[blood-orange-juice]

Ok. Can we talk about The Ballad of the Fjords again. This is all extremely obvious but I'm starting to see the value of writing down obvious things.

I've been thinking about Kaeya's surname pretty much since his release. Because, you know, Alberich. The svartálfar king who safekeeps Nibelung's treasure in Nibelungenlied ("The Song of Nibelungs", 13th century poem. do you see the parallel with "The Ballad of the Fjords"?). And now three years later we have things to tie it back to.

The Things:

The dragon Nibelung who acquired the forbidden knowledge from outside this world and led the other ancient dragons into war against The Heavenly Principles (according to Nahida's second quest).

Nibelung refers to all kinds of creatures in Norse and Old German stories, sometimes it's a dragon, somethimes it's a group of svartálfar (dwarves/elves/fae, for simplicity).

Rhinedottir the alchemist, the creator of our beloved horrors. Theorised to be the one who discovered/created something that led to Khaenri'ahs downfall.

She's a reference to Rhinemaidens invented by Wagner, spirits of watery depth and keepers of magical gold. If you were looking for Enkanomiya/primordial sea/whale connections, here's another one.

Also in Wagner's operas Alberich is the main antagonist of the Rings of Nibelung cycle (one of the few characters that stay alive too!), the one who steals the gold from the Rhinemaidens (renouncing love in exchange for power) and the one whos actions lead to the death of gods and the desctruction of Valhalla.

(something something arrogation of mankind obligatory mention)

And now we have The Ballad of the Fjords BP spear and its description:

If this is not a Nibelung mythos reference I don't know what this is.

[doki-doki-lesbians-club]

hello! please rant about the comphet subtext in ddlc. i wanna hear it so bad please please please please please

Hi! I think I've written on this before, but I can't recall when or where, so I'll try and recall as many points as I can!

This'll be a long one, so under the cut!

For starters, let's talk base game. Obviously, all four girls fall for the MC and that's that. However, watching the ways that the other club members interact, it's pretty clear to many players that they have feelings beyond just friendship.

Namely, I sight Natsuki's poems. First off, the poem "Amy Likes Spiders" can be read as Yuri's love of horror (which is how I initially read it when I first played). However, it's also pretty easy to read this as either Natsuki's experience being trans, or being gay. Either way, that makes the entire narrative of the poem make sense, and also explains lines like "I tried not to let her touch me. She likes spiders, so her hands are probably gross." as well as "It doesn't matter if she has other hobbies. It doesn't matter if she keeps it private. It doesn't matter if it doesn't hurt anyone.

It's gross. She's gross. The world is better off without spider lovers."

Seems pretty clear, right? These lines may feel intense and out of place with other readings, but when you imagine Natsuki being outed to her shit friends as gay, or trans, it all starts to make sense.

Have you ever read the poem "I'll Be Your Beach"? Because it's gay as all hell!

We're led to assume that the romantic poems Natsuki and Yuri write are about the MC, but that would be odd to imagine when reading this poem. Natsuki writes about "your heavy thoughts", "your insecurities", and "your memories" and ends by saying "You'll learn to love yourself again." When, exactly, did the MC express any of these sentiments? Let alone to Natsuki?? But I think it would be pretty easy to connect all of these points to another girl: Yuri.

It's easy to see some strong subtext here for gay Natsuki (and maybe trans too, if you wanna see that). But when we break into the Side Stories, this is where it gets real interesting...

MC is not there. The Side Stories are purely scenes to read through to watch the Literature Club form for the first time as all the girls meet each other and get to know one another. Because of this, we get to see more of them and their feelings toward each other than we could have ever dreamed of in the base game!

Without giving too many spoilers for some of the best scenes in the entire game: the Side Stories are pretty gay. It's nearly impossible to ignore. These girls are clearly imagining each other as more than just friends, are going through some feelings. Each pairing even gets their own spotlight, and we see how each and every one of them has some interest in each other, which is a stark difference from the base game.

The main difference? MC is not there.

The base game has a lot of themes surrounding control, reality, and choices (or the lack thereof). Not only are all the girls destined (or "programmed") to fall in love with MC, it can't be avoided, even by Monika, who wasn't meant to have a route at all. They were already playing with the ideas of fate, and programming, and free will, but what happens when you remove the object that decided their fate?

Well, when we removed MC from the scenario altogether, we see the girls happier, getting along better, and showing interest in one another that we only got in subtext in the base game. To me, this leads to another theme of choice and control: compulsive heterosexuality. If part of the "generic dating sim" frame of their reality is forcing them to express interest in the male protagonist, even if they couldn't care less and really are interested in each other, that's the same themes but on a whole new level.

Left to their own devices, the girls are happy and expressing interest in one another. In the "game" they are forced to play roles in, we see their problems exacerbate, their situation spiraling, as they all desperately cling to the MC as the object of their affection. Seems pretty comphet to me.

Thank you sooo much for this ask! It's been a while since I wrote a long post like this! :D Speaking outside of my own trans/gay perspective, it seems pretty hard to imagine any other future for these girls in light of the Side Stories. And to that extent, I think the Side Stories gives us a window into a happier world; one where they are all free to grow and thrive as who they are, regardless of what that means for each of them! I think that's only further fueled this wonderful fandom: seeing them happy.

and gay.

Thanks again for the ask~!

[whinlatter]

author's note | chapter 12: scarecrow🪞

thank you soooo much for reading chapter 12 of beasts. january was long for all of us, but january 1999 was especially long for the worried youngest weasley, stomping around in the highlands snow going through that all too common and deeply humiliating experience: trying to get a text back from a man. embarrassing! pls know the response to this chapter has knocked my socks off and as a thank you i have given you many unsolicited words on mirrors, weird latin names, and thestral erections. to paraphrase movie molly weasley... just what you all wanted, actually! (plus the smallest of sneak peeks at chapter 13)...

✨ spoilers for this chapter below the cut  ✨

writing notes and headcanons:

curse you/bless you chapter 12: my god this chapter took SO long to figure out. not just because of real life ramp up (cheers again for being patient legends with this), but just because i couldn’t for the life of me decide how to structure or pace it, kept writing scenes then scrapping them or deciding to keep them for later then repeating that ad infinitum. it had about five different opening scenes til i figured out how it needed to start. i know a lot of fic writers will have discovered this long before i did, but it’s such hard work when you know what the arc of a chapter should be, what the main plot points that need to happen are, where the emotional beats should come, but need to actually write a lot of building-block scenes to create that sense of pace and mood to build up to the important scenes, as well as also weaving together plot-threads that need to happen at this point in the fic in order to set up the later stages. this is how i learned that writing a service/‘turning point’ chapter (and this is, in many ways, a turning point chapter for a lot of different plots) is really really hard. part of the trouble is that to earn the relief and the dam breaking you have to write so many little scenes to create a sense of build up, and because those scenes are sort of service-scenes it’s so easy for them to be boring to write and, usually, boring to read. some realisations about what needed to happen happened way too late (there were no governors in this chapter as of like january 28th lmao. i was out on a walk and swear i stopped dead on the path when i remembered that the governors exist and i could use em to start to add the state in a more meaningful way, and especially the encroachment of the outside world on the castle.) when i posted i was feeling VERY uncertain about the chapter and just wanted it to be out so i could move on from it so honestly the response to it has been like the biggest loveliest shock ever. thanks forever lads. the gems i've been left in the comment section and the askbox will stay with me for a long time.

mirrors: this chapter is structured around the idea of the mirror (sylvia getting us going with the poem, sorry you ended up kicking off a chapter in a harry potter fanfiction mate). it begins with little ginny unable to look herself in the eye in the leaky cauldron’s talking mirror (that freaks her out - where does the mirror keep its brain?). it ends with ginny holding the two-way mirror, looking her own reflection, then watching it fade into harry’s as the two of them finally speak and connect after starting, for the first time, to be properly honest with each other. partly this is me wanting ginny to have a different way to talk to harry, something more honest that doesn’t let her cultivate or craft false versions of her days in letters but actually speak face-to-face much more honestly, and that is harry showing he gets that writing is a more loaded act for ginny than it might be for others. but what i hoped to convey was the idea that the mirror has other significance. the mirror is such an important image and device in harry potter - the mirror of erised, that shows you who you truly are and what you really want; the chipped mirror in the girls’ bathroom that leads to the chamber of secrets, where malfoy will later break down when called upon to do crimes he can’t bear to (plus hermione carrying one to look around corners with the basilisk); the foe glass mirror that shows you when your enemies are close; the two-way mirror itself, the item with the most tragic irony (a lifeline to sirius harry doesn't use to devastating consequences, the portal to malfoy manor that saves the day and costs dobby his life) etc. “what do you see when you look in the mirror?” - it's a line dumbledore first utters in PoS, and that comes back in DH, when harry is grappling with the idea that dumbledore might have lied to him about the answer (the socks are convincing nobody). it’s such a good mission statement for some of the themes that run through the series at large: who are we, really, what is the contents of our soul, who will we be (it is our choices that define us etc). harry potter as a series is also full of mirrors in its structure (see this on the books as mirror pairs), and narrative mirrors are a really important device in characterisation (most of all harry/TMR, the two orphans, but also sirius and snape, ron and draco etc). like most female characters in the series, ginny’s narrative mirror is a bit underdeveloped, but it does really seem to be bellatrix, the narration drawing them into association on multiple occasions to compare and contrast them as characters. (hermione’s is like - what, pansy? develop female characters jkr i beg). canon romantic pairings don't get to be properly fleshed out mirrors of each other, in part because they're a) all het pairings and b) het pairingswhere the female character is either excessively idealised and/or underwritten. it's fic writers' job to problematise, unpack and challenge basically errrrrr all of that. to that end, then...

hinny & mirrors: … what i wanted to suggest is that part of what makes hinny so compelling is the idea that harry and ginny at times come as close as being mirrors of each other of the canon ships, in ways that hinny writers can play with/tease out/develop as a canon coherent choice. i’ve talked previously about how we might see sirius and ginny as narrative mirrors in some ways. but i think harry and ginny are mirror characters too, to some extent. it's not just that they're extremely similar. the harry and ginny plotline as rendered in the series starts to happen the moment ginny starts being herself in ootp, and the two of them are able to see each other clearly and see themselves in the other person. there’s also a reason HBP and CoS are the mirror image books by design, harry and ginny literally paralleling each other with the prince’s book and the diary etc. even their respective journey to their own death mirrors the other person's. playing with the mirror as the item that brings harry and ginny back together after their conflict is therefore me doing a bit of a wink and a nod to this idea: harry and ginny on this journey to seeing themselves as equals, as two sides of a coin. the mirror as a device inherently invites character to see themselves clearly, and, in the case of a two-way mirror, invites the character to consider who they see themselves in, who is their reflection, who is their opposite number. ginny finding her way to a mirror where she can both see her own face and yet also call on harry's is a big moment for her starting to think about who she is, what she wants, and also start to grapple with how she feels about her own selfhood, her soul, her morality, her past. on harry’s part, him mending the mirrors and starting to use them - the mirrors he vowed he would never use with sirius, and that are so connected to his guilt over sirius’ death - is such an important step. it’s (literally) him picking up the pieces and rebuilding the mirror and his connection to another person he sees as his family, moving past his grief and guilt to try to see and be seen more clearly by the person he loves. we know when harry potter looks into the mirror of erised, he sees his family: here we have harry, having come a long way in having to confront, acknowledge, unpack and apologise for some of what he’s asked of ginny over the years, lifting up the mirror given to him by his dead family member and seeing his new family, the family of his future.

on the break up that wasn't... two months of getting the nicest most polite threats in the inbox if i broke harry and ginny up… lads. i would never! the scarecrow of the chapter title is partly a reference to ginny's fears - the inquiry, the forest - but ultimately about her relationship with harry, which she fears is in jeopardy - a fear that, ultimately, turns out to be baseless. part of my point in the hinny plot for this fic is to write a version of them that sees them growing up, and especially growing up together, not burning things down or being emotionally immature and dramatic, but doing the quiet boring grown-up work of learning to become a team, and learning it together. break-up plotlines can work beautifully (and i will always devour them), but i knew it wasn’t going to be a part of this fic as i imagined it. i wanted these two burn-it-all-down impulsive characters not to go for the nuclear option, which they might do in other relationships in their lives, and instead do something arguably harder: commit to doing thinking and reflecting and owning up to where they’ve both gone wrong along the way, because they care about what they’re building between them. there are all sorts of general writing love stories manifesto issues in this for me (people can grow and change and learn when they’re in healthy relationships, the only catalyst for growth in a relationship doesn’t have to be a breakup, female centric dramatic arcs don’t have to be break-up centred even though lots of brilliant ones are). but there are also some hinny specific points i wanted to make. the main one is that one of the things i like most about harry and ginny as a couple is that in canon their drama is largely external to their relationship. they’re just two people who properly like each other, get each other, bring out the best in each other, want to hang out and build something together, despite all they’ve been through. they're two characters that canonically just want to hang out and talk to each other, in a really nice way but also, i think, quite a healthy way too that would see them in good stead in their conflicts. post war hinny absolutely have issues and blindspots and skewed dynamics to confront. they have things to learn and they are going to fuck up (harry hurry up ya thinkin and write her back you dickhead). but it’s my view that they’re not going to have a big dramatic screaming breakup, they’re going to muddle through and figure it out, because what’s true about hinny is that it’s a ship where its two participants are emotionally mature, kind to each other, and ultimately constructive even when they aren’t always with other characters lol. that's my two cents anyway!

quidditch: this WAS in this chapter originally and then it got shunted to chapter 13. partly because this chapter had far too many plots already but also (i think) it’ll make more sense there for lots of juicy reasons. so that’s why you have that cop out line at the start about quidditch practices being on pause x because the author can’t juggle very many balls at once :)

death eater recruitment, or: why are young people drawn to dark magic? what i wanted in this chapter was to have a political flashpoint that kingsley, the politician, can use as a catalyst for the thing he really wants, which is an inquiry into hogwarts, as a microcosm of the wider wizarding world and the symbol of its future. the inquiry should happen, but, in reality, it would take political will to make it happen. it was important for me to have the catalyst for the inquiry be something that would really galvanise and piss off the DA, namely why does everyone care so much about the kids they hate getting involved in violent blood supremacist politics and not care about the victims of death eater hate. of course, the DA are understandably fuming: they suffered so much for fighting against death eaters, and they want their story of persecution and of resistance to be told. but the elephant in the room, and what's awkward in these little moments of right-wing talking points on the wireless or in the press or parents of death eater children pleading for understanding is that, actually, there is quite an important question at play here, which is, wait why would a fourteen year old kid or whatever want to go out and kill muggles? isn't that fucked up? how much agency do we give them? when is it grooming, when is it someone being actively hoodwinked (including the possibility of the imperius curse), and when is it an active choice of intent that deserves punishment? didn't all of that recruitment of young people for extremist politics happen before the war? aren't there child soldiers on both sides of this conflict, and if so, is that ok? how did that happen? these are uncomfortable questions that defy easy answers. they're questions that will sharpen and take on new life in the form of the inquiry for our protagonist and for the DA and resistance as a whole. i am so so excited to develop it let me tell ya!

the governors thinking ginny is dead: this - bleakly - is canon! in CoS, the governors think ginny has already died, that’s why they ask dumbledore to come back. (“Well, you see, Lucius,” said Dumbledore, smiling serenely, “the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They’d heard that Arthur Weasley’s daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once...") wouldn't dumbledore correct them when ginny was out of the chamber? a question for future chapters...

what's in a name: wouldn't be hp worldbuilding without trying to come up with some good latin and/or greek names to hint at character traits. this chapter we had to stick in a load of minor new characters (human and otherwise), so to google we went. we have benignus tuft, the governor - benignus giving us benign, so someone who is at best harmless and mild, but at worst ineffective and sort of useless. we have another governor, coelamus (koelemos), minor deity or spirit, god of stupidity and foolishness (of course ginny isn't dead you idiot). for the thestrals, we know hagrid named one of them, his favourite in canon, who is called tenebrus, like tenebrous, in english, meaning shadowy or obscure (from the latin tenebrae, meaning darkness). so the other thestrals got their names on a similar theme: caligo (darkness, fog, mist) anima (in some variations, the soul), and umbra (shadow). umbra's got a little deathly bun in the oven, which is going to need a name, too - much like a certain owl...

thestrals: the worldbuilding around thestral and thestral breeding was maybe the most fun but strangest part of this chapter to write (i googled a lot of stuff about horse pregnancy and birth and saw images i do not wish to see again). i will thank david yates for giving me the idea and then go back to never thanking him ever again. in canon, we know the thestrals live in the forest and that ginny is familiar with their habits as early as ootp, long before she's able to see them ('because in case you hadn’t noticed, you and hermione are both covered in blood,' she said coolly, 'and we know hagrid lures thestrals with raw meat, so that’s probably why these two turned up in the first place…', in ootp) the only thing we know about the hogwarts' thestrals' origins is dean thomas accidentally insulting firenze ("did hagrid breed you, like the thestrals?”). this is hardly concrete knowledge or evidence, so in this chapter i wanted to play with the idea of hagrid quite readily admitting he doesn't really know how thestrals come to breed, part of these magical mysteries of the natural world that are beyond wizarding knowledge. we do know, though, that thestrals have some connection with death, especially to bearing witness and processing it. i think they're one of the most intriguing and poignant images in canon (retconning over their visibility aside, joanne), and i'm excited for the plot that explores these themes and ideas as the different plots start to wind together. (a spoilery clue for ya: hagrid mentions time periods where the thestral herd has previously grown... thank you to @saintsenara, the real unsung hero/brains behind the operation, who puts up with all of my inane questions and thinking at her and always proves enormously and generously helpful, especially in this instance with some crucial date deets). also i took out a joke about thestral erections because it wasn't the vibe and i think we can all agree that is for the best.

songs from the playlist for these chapters:

had to wap out the celtic vibes on at least one song now we're back in the castle ya feel! neko case, herself a ginger goddess, has provided too many great songs for inspo for this fic and one of my favourite's of hers is in this week's batch (the most tender place in my heart is for strangers/i know it's unkind but my own kind is much too dangerous). the hinny songs for this week are star by mitski (that love is like a star, it's gone/we just see it shining/it's traveled very far/i'll keep a leftover light burning/so you can keep looking up/isn't that worth holding on?) and comrade sweetheart by my beloved bonny light horseman/anaïs mitchell (who's going to bind up your wounds? who when the wildflowers bloom? no other lover but you... in the dusk of my days.) it's about the blessing of time, the hinny DH parting gift! hours and days and maybe years baby!

underwater by the national | tuttle's reel by lorkin o'reilly | hold on, hold on by neko case | comrade sweetheart by bonny light horseman | me & my dog by boygenius | coolest fucking bitch in town by haley blais | star by mitski

and a wee sneak peek of chapter 13... (the inevitable line now harry and ginny basically have wizard facetime):

'Gin. For fuck's sake. Stop. Dropping. The mirror. On your own face.'

[swordheld]

how do you think in poems? i really enjoy the tags under your posts i've always wanted to write down my own thoughts that way bc in my head they feel so thorough and magical but whenever i put it in words i feel it just gets so much flatter and i no longer see a point and give up

oh oh oh, but lovely, can't you see that you've already started? it's a perspective that you hone, over time, something that is specific to you and you alone – that's the piece of it that makes it so special! you've already begun, and it only goes forward, up, sideways from here, wherever you wish to go!

think of it like a skill, for a moment, or a kind of muscle, if you'd prefer. you have to work at it, with it, over time and differing experiences, in order to progress.

(a quick important note: not progression as in the kind of quality-check of a grading scale, but progression as in evolution. shifting change. think of the leaves and their colors across the months of autumn, or temperatures rising with the sun and cooling with the evening dark. change isn't intrinsically a qualifying thing, it can just be, sometimes. this is difficult to remember, especially in the midst of frustration, but it is worth it. you are always doing better than you think you are – harshest critic, and all that.)

which is not to say that it's a simple thing to do! compare this to the vibe of me picking up crochet recently, with my shaking hands and too-quickly dwindling adhd focus – my first attempts at making a lil headphone sprout have not been going as well as i once hoped. my stitches are either too big and sloppy bc i'm not holding the yarn tightly enough to get clean ones, or i feel frustrated due to it not looking like how i'd like it to look in my mind when i started it, or even as i begin my umpteenth attempt.

but!! i know that it won't ever look the way i want it do if i set it down and never keep trying. it'll take awhile, like everything does, even the seasons take their time, the moon and its phases; but what i do know, is that, eventually, it'll resemble something i want it to. vaguely, maybe, but it is something. it doesn't have to look exactly like the guide i'm following, or the examples i'm inspired by, because it's mine – something made by my own hands, my own time and experience with every mistake and thrilling joy along the way to learn by.

take it from me: i want to be good at things i want to be good at so badly. and that excitement makes me want to be at the skill level i need to be at in order to do so right then and there, no learning curves or building blocks allowed. which is never how it happens, unfortunately, but –

i think, gently, that we tend to overlook what a pleasure it is to learn. to see the slow progression of things, to begin and change and continue and get better. and even if it's different as we go along, in a way it's our own little kind of magic, maybe, to create and never be done if we don't want to be.

which is all to say: it's already yours. why does it have to be anything else, anything more? why can't it just be good as it is now, where it might never be again? what is there to lose by enjoying the moment of where you are?

like everything, it will grow and shift and evolve with time, maybe into something you'd hoped for, or maybe into something you don't even have the words to describe right now at all. but that's the fun of it: how even now, even then, there, across time and distance and skill, there is a common thread of things; it will always come from your heart, your experience, where you are right then and there and now.

and if you think of that like magic, well, it becomes a little like magic, doesn't it?

also, something to consider: sometimes things you feel or think can't be put into words at that moment, or even at all! something else you could try (that i certainly do) is making something else with whatever it makes you feel - whether that's another form of art, or any other kind of media. if it makes you want to go outside and take a walk or get cozy and read or play a video game? that counts too! that's still an experience, you're still feeling.

i think that counts a little more than anything else, you know?

and as a little ending fun side-note, can i share something cool? i've never thought of it that way before, as thinking in poems. in my mind it's always been a kind of perspective of personal wonder, but you're right – it's poetry, in it's own way. you gave me that – so thank you, from the heart of me. i hope your journey finds you with every bright joy.

[dukeoftheblackstar]

got any plo koon fic recs? looking for some new stuff that's good. one shots and long fics welcome! I'll take anything i can get

Shamelessly promoting my own:

Dom!Plo ask by yours truly, submitted by the lovely @mild-disorganization

Some tired dad!Plo headcanons maybe?

And for some that I have read and adored:

Plo Koon Masterlist by @my-head-is-an-animal (Mixed)

Thigh Kink with Plo by @saradika (NSFW)

Not a fic, but hella spice by @saradika (SFW & NSFW)

Friendship - Plo Koon & Wolffe by @wild-karrde (SFW)

PloKit Art (their entire blog) by @uiro-mgmg1 (NSFW - mostly art)

SFW & NSFW Alphabets for Plo by @samspenandsword

My favorite ♥:

Sovereign (PloKit, idk if you're into it, but I am) by @tits-fisto (NSFW but very wholesome)

The Tiniest Councilor by Quiet_Shadow (SFW)

Name and Soul by @decepticonsensual (SFW)

Haven't read but is on queue when I have the mood and will power to actually read and not thirst for our Kel Dor Emperor ♥

of claws and tusks by my bestiecakes ♥ @saengak <- Apparently, it's hella angsty and I reserve the angst for weekend when I'm not out here thirsting for this King.

in deditionem by my bestiecakes ♥ @saengak <- I've seen them write ♥, it makes me squeeeeeeee ♥

Helium by @cynderiaopus who also made my current bomb AF pfp of Plo steepling ♥

Other materials and interesting read:

@exosorcery has very interesting comics and posts about Kel Dors in general. Here's one specific of Plo Koon:

A few faves from them:

@veny-many for their AUs and Plo Koon & Wolfpack Art (also includes others) <- Presenting you the bebbis ♥

My faves:

The entire post AU 66 where Plo lives is a quintessential to any post AU 66 imho because I'm heavily invested in this and I'm about to cry because I need to organize my bookmarks (and update this) so I can give you the proper start to fin link.

I'd post more from @veny-many and @exosorcery, but if you spend a good 10 minutes scrolling, you'll be there forever. Quality art content!

You may also want to check World building and ConLang Kel Dor study, apart from their OC x Plo Koon art. Big thanks for this neat document by @plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows

[[ @plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows I hope it's okay to share. If not, I can take it down ♥ ]]

So far just these at the top of my head. Thank you for the Plo-related ask :D! I enjoyed sifting through my bookmarks ♥

Don't forget to give love and reblog, comment, follow these amazing people who do so much for the Plo Koon, Dorin, Kel Dor tags ♥

[kabillieu]

This is a pretty cool acceptance. This journal only publishes three poets per issue, so they take a lot of poems. They also publish a poem of the week on their website, so I've been sending them poems over the years not necessarily expecting to get a bunch of poems accepted for the print journal, but hoping to get one poem accepted for their poem of the week feature.

Publishing is weird and funny (when it's not frustrating and disappointing). The journal contacted me a couple days ago explaining they liked some of the poems from my submission and asking if I had any more to send them. I don't really have many unpublished poems from my manuscript anymore, so I sent them four poems, one of which they had previously rejected from another submission. Another poem I had given up on trying to get published because it had been rejected by 26 journals. Another poem is actually flash creative nonfiction that I had written two years ago and then forgotten about. They accepted all three of these pieces!

I've gotten to the stage in my writing process where I have a probably complete manuscript and no new poems. I'm not writing poems right now because I'm busy with moving tasks and teaching and trying (poorly) to cram comps work into the edges. I don't beat myself up when I'm not writing because by now I know that I write in cycles and stages. Right now I'm in the stage where I'm trying to get a book published. Eventually I'll start writing poems again, but for now it's nice to see things happening for the poems I've already written.