People can’t come back from the dead.
It’s not a place you can go, death. There’s no bridge to cross, no river to ford, no gate to open – moving from one place to another requires a path and a body to walk it and a light to see by, and death takes all three. I know this. Everyone knows this.
"You have done my kin a great service," the Lady says, in her voice like wind rustling through leaves. "I will give you a gift, in return."
I had expected as much. She won’t let me leave her lands with a debt unpaid, and she can’t hold me here however much she would like to.
Not that it’s beyond her, mind you. It would just be politically problematic.
"I thank you for your generosity," I say, polite, and don’t dare wonder what she might see fit to give me. A gift, I know, is only as good as the giver’s knowledge of you, and I have taken great pains to ensure the Lady knows very little of me.
I hope, distant, small, that she won’t remake any of me.
She curves up her lips at the corners, doesn’t bare her teeth, and waves a hand. A gateway opens, nearer to me than to her, and something steps through. Someone? Tall and thin, bipedal, plain dark clothes, hearth-warm and alive, sharp dark eyes, face I see in my sleep, alive, alive–
I swallow, and make myself look at the Lady. "What is this?"
She tilts her head, bird-like, hunter-like. "Do you reject my gift?"
Questioning her is not wise. Walking into her lands was not wise – Leaving my home, such as it is, for anything other than the necessities isn’t wise. I have never lost the knack of weighing the costs. I know full well what I do.
I keep going. I get up, I keep going, I wear smooth and safe the path for anyone who comes after.
"I accept your gift," I tell her. "Your debt is paid." The weight of my words rings, metal pulled from the heat and struck sure. She nods her head, just once, and becomes small and winged – a sparrow, with a long tail and a hooked beak – and takes her leave.
We are alone in the clearing. It makes more sense, now, that the Lady met me here, in the gatewoods, with no guards. I have heard nothing of her giving impossible gifts. I wonder who else would necessitate such a show of power.
Bel looks just as I remember them.
That is, I think, the shirt they were wearing. The hole is gone, as if never there.
They’re looking at me. The gateway closed behind them, and the clearing is quiet, and for all I have dreamt of this moment I cannot think of a single thing to say.
"Hey," they say, soft. "Where are we?"
They’re looking at me with concern. I am far beyond knowing what my face is doing.
"Old realm," I say, somehow. "Oak and holly. Hill folk, mostly. Not many travellers."
"Why are we here?"
"There was a–" I trip over a word I haven’t used in years. I don’t say it. "There was a beast. I– made peace. Helped make peace. You–" Oh, the crease above their nose, how did I forget it, all the lines of their face I’ve spent so long tracing. "What do you remember?"
Their frown deepens. "You were here for a job?" I nod, once, and they glance around, look me over. "We should leave, then."
My pack rests on my shoulder, and we’re standing in the gatewoods. It’s not a difficult conclusion to draw. It hits me, anyway, like a blow. Their assessment of the situation; how much I still trust it.
I take a breath, and pull open a gateway. There’s no wards, not here – the Lady has other means of preventing an exit. No need to lock the door when it sits so high in the wall, so far from the floor. Bel hums, some suspicion confirmed, and waits for me to step through first.
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more gorse thoughts. rly happy with the way i rolled their stats bc it translates well to rp (dump stats intelligence and charisma) she gets -1 on history and religion checks bc she’s amnesiac and doesn’t know shit about dick. also gets -1 on nature checks which as a druid that’s embarrassing but ‼️ bc they were raised in the underdark i’d wager they have even less knowledge of surface plants than the average person. whole party is like look at our druid dawgggg we’re gonna die 😫🤯🤣 bc they had to stop her from walking into a patch of poison oak
and no one knows she’s from the underdark least of all her but there are clues. at the post-grove defense camp party gorse gets pushed into the dance circle and they instinctively bust out this silly butt-wiggle arm-sway that makes everyone laugh bc girl where did you learn to dance like that!! and then later at ebonlake grotto after delivering nere’s head all the myconids start dancing and it’s like. huh. that’s exactly how gorse dances. noted 📝
also just. the moment the party steps into the underdark gorse’s scales LIGHT UP with a previously invisible pattern. like the dragons in httyd3. and this isn’t a daytime/nighttime thing she only glows like this when she’s in the underdark. and she’s so much more talkative now bc she has a lot more things to say about the fauna and flora. the clues are all adding up
and this is unrelated but i love seeing ppl draw their durges with autopsy scars. gorse has one too but theirs isn’t Y-shaped it’s more I-shaped— i just remembered tumblr uses sans serif font. well i need you to imagine a capital serif i. thank u
less like a human autopsy and more like a frog dissection y’know :3c
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Truths that Co-Exist
Barbie (2023) is a giant product placement that profits off nostalgia.
The writing is profound and life-changing and understands why we seek nostalgia in a way most nostalgia-driven entertainment doesn’t.
The film is self-aware about how even now, Barbie dolls set incredibly unrealistic beauty standards. Their “body diversity” does not even scratch the surface of what that phrase really means. I don’t expect this to change.
The film still made a beautiful statement with the scene on the bench about how societal beauty standards are narrow and restrictive! And that beauty comes from experiencing life and the marks it leaves on you!
Its feminist statements are validating. Many of us see our reality onscreen, and the great thing is that it includes how cishet men fall down a pipeline of toxic hypermasculinity. It also shows the solution, and allows men to express themselves despite what society expects them to be.
The film is a capitalist venture.
The cast (aside from the leads) and crew were probably overworked and severely underpaid during filmmaking.
We can still appreciate that something fun was made, and we all made another wonderful memory where we and our loved ones went to the movies color-matching in pink.
We should not feel guilty about seeing ourselves in this film.
Meanwhile, support the WGA and SAG-Aftra strike.
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i love when words fit right. seize was always supposed to be that word, and so was jester. tuesday isn't quite right but thursday should be thursday, that's a good word for it. daisy has the perfect shape to it, almost like you're laughing when you say it; and tulip is correct most of the time. while keynote is fun to say, it's super wrong - i think they have to change the label for that one. but fox is spot-on.
most words are just, like, good enough, even if what they are describing is lovely. the night sky is a fine term for it but it isn't perfect the way november is the correct term for that month.
it's not just in english because in spanish the phrase eso si que es is correct, it should be that. sometimes other languages are also better than the english words, like how blue is sloped too far downwards but azul is perfect and hangs in the air like glitter. while butterfly is sweet, i think probably papillion is more correct, although for some butterflies féileacán is much better. year is fine but bliain is better. sometimes multiple languages got it right though, like how jueves and Πέμπτη are also the right names for thursday. maybe we as a species are just really good at naming thursdays.
and if we were really bored and had a moment and a picnic to split we could all sit down for a moment and sort out all the words that exist and find all the perfect words in every language. i would show you that while i like the word tree (it makes you smile to say it), i think arbor is correct. you could teach me from your language what words fit the right way, and that would be very exciting (exciting is not correct, it's just fine).
i think probably this is what was happening at the tower of babel, before the languages all got shifted across the world and smudged by the hand of god. by the way, hand isn't quite right, but i do like that the word god is only 3 letters, and that it is shaped like it is reflecting into itself, and that it kind of makes your mouth move into an echoing chapel when you cluck it. but the word god could also fit really well with a coathanger, and i can't explain that. i think donut has (weirdly) the same shape as a toothbrush, but we really got bagel right and i am really grateful for that.
grateful is close, but not like thunder. hopefully one day i am going to figure out how to shape the way i love my friends into a little ceramic (ceramic is very good, almost perfect) pot and when they hold it they can feel the weight of my care for them. they can put a plant in there. maybe a daisy.
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