Astrid WIP to go with Chapter 28 of It's Just A Spark! Can't decide to go with which eyebrows/expression to go with!!
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Japanese Type 94 tankettes during the Battle of Nanjing, December 12th, 1937.
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For Ijapa
Half an hour feels like a lifetime
Where t’heck did you go?
Are you ok? Are you safe still
That's all I want to know
I can hardly see through the tears
Oh, I miss you so
Please, be ok arabinrin
I cannot let you go
I can almost hear your voice
Almost feel you around me
Please, I miss you dearly
Come back
My sister, come back
I really hope you know that
My heart beats for you
You are the best friend I could know
My family through and through
I can almost hear your voice
Almost feel you around me
Please, I miss you dearly
Come back
My sister, come back
Come back
I'm in pieces, come back
Come back
Please I miss you, come back
Come back
My sister, come back
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whenever i see people woobifying Ghibli films into uncritical ‘cozy’ aesthetic fodder it’s like, are we even watching the same films. Miyazaki’s best work is in his most recent material, the Wind Rises and How do you Live, and that man has so much vitriol inside of him
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It's Just A Spark Ch. 36 is out!
Forgot to do this yesterday hehe read it here:
Hope you're all healthy, happy and safe!
Me dropping this new chapter during a hellish few days for me lol:
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For me for me please sir can I get a Ramyatta with number 36 whatever that may be?
Coming right along good sire, #36 Heaven Sent by The Steeldrivers
Shake my head and I wonder how / I'll ever get to heaven now
Time does not treat him gently, but he is learning to do so himself. It’s one lesson into the next like dominoes. First came the dull realization that few hands would ever touch him gently, then the wisdom to not let himself be counted among his advisaries.
“Brother, would you forgive me?” he’d asked the night sky, his voice hushed and tense. He remembers still, the first time, with Mondatta right there beside him, not in the flesh - he’s had to forcibly scrub every easy human metaphor from even his most intimate thoughts - but in something warmer and more real than that. Right there beside him to hum thoughtfully and say:
“It is not my place to do so.”
Back then, the words had welled into his chest like tar, staining even the parts of him the crisis had left unscathed. Now, the memory wells up in overwhelming clarity, the details crisp and almost searing. The thing it leaves behind now is warm and sure.
“Would you now?” he asks now, his chin tilted up so only the scant stars catch the sound. The sky is covered in dappled gray, forever clouds lit up and burning by a million lives unfolding beneath them. At times, he misses the clarity of the monastery, the serenity, the sharp cleanness of the sky just after the first snowfall. And yet he’s grown fond of this as well.
A world wrought from violence and fear yet painting the belly of the sky in a flighty, bleeding brush. His own fists shine dully, flashes red and green with the traffic lights flickering on and off right outside his window.
The hazy monk who inhabits his memories never answers his query. It’s a step, he’s trying to convince himself, to freedom and revolution and justice. To his own apotheosis.
He hopes he gets to go gently in the end. Gently and forgiven.
Time will wither him, he can already feel it. He grows slow and blunt now that Anubis can no longer support or upkeep him. He has a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't change much even if the god program still hummed along somewhere out there. He was never meant to outlive his maker. He has much to do still, and little to atone for.
“I will forgive me,” he tells the unblinking stars, the two brightest one that peek through the cloudlayer. A satellite spins and travels in a sinewy line over the sky; a machine shooting star to fasten a machine dream upon.
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