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#crying – @the-pessimistic-cupcake on Tumblr
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:3c

@the-pessimistic-cupcake / the-pessimistic-cupcake.tumblr.com

local bi dork // she/her // 23 // (icon credit goes to @kurapilka)
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spoondrifts

something about vi never wanting anyone in her life to change. something about jayce not caring at all how much viktor has changed so long as he's alive. something about the way vi associates radical change with death, perceiving jinx's continued existence as a kind of necromantic horror—the way jayce would shatter fundamental laws of nature without a second thought in order to give viktor the best chance at survival, in whatever form that may take. transformation as rebirth vs murder, hextech vs shimmer. nature has made us intolerant to change, but fortunately, we have the capacity to change our nature. and then jayce, realizing that he hasn't changed at all, not really—that he is a scientist at heart, and he shouldn't have tried to be anything else. and then vi, realizing she has become someone unrecognizable—never thought my sister would turn bluebelly. and for both of them, it's too little, too late.

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The scene in ntn where Nona does such a spot on impression of Palamedes kissing Camilla's hand that Camilla has to dissociate about it in the tub has me wondering about the first gen lyctors' relationship with Alecto. Do you think that they were afraid of her because she wasn't human enough or because she was too human?Do you think that she worried her lip like Cristabel? Do you think she walked with Alfred's walk and laughed Pyrrha's laugh? Do you think they saw in her flawless imitation a mockery of their dearest friends and of their greatest sins? Do you think they said to John "it is a monstrosity, it is unbearable, send it away from us, Lord. We cannot look at it." Do you think he looked into the golden eyes of his own greatest sin and said "You are right, we should put it to bed."

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the sun mourns in vain for the white-throated rail: a comic about disability and the unwanted able-bodied grief for past selves.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION:

Page 1: The sun holds a white-throated rail, a bird with a red head, a gray body, and a white throat, in its hands. The sun speaks in a tone represented as sorrowful pity through a drippy speech bubble.

Sun: Looking at you makes me sad!

Rail: What?

Page 2:

Sun: Looking at you makes me sad!

The sun stands with a hand clutching its face.

Sun: How miserable it must be to be flightless! Don’t you yearn for the skies? Don’t you wake up grieving you’re still on land?

Page 3: The white-throated rail looks down in frustration in the hand of the sun.

Sun: (speaking off screen) I’d simply perish if I were you!

The rail speaks, looking down. Pink flowers bloom towards the bottom of the page, petals and pollen blowing in the wind.

Rail: Why do you put your words in my beak and your grief in my feathers? Am I not beautiful?

Page 4: The bone of a white-throated rail is positioned against a colorful galaxy dotted with flecks of stars.

Rail: Am I not adaptability in action? Am I not evolution in motion? Do you mourn the days you weren’t a star? Do you mourn when the sky was cold, how unbearably hot you must burn to keep embracing it every day?

Page 5: The sun looks at the viewer.

Sun: Why would I? That was then, this is now. I am content to be in this state.

Page 6: The rail looks up at the sun off-screen.

Rail: Well…So am I.

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