First, peek my name X3

But also, from a Chinese diasporic lens (tho I ended up in the US XD), gods, this was a gut punch

Like, historical yuri tragedies are one thing

But like, literally seeing "Shanghai, 1920" made me feel the doomed yuri delicious heartsink

I think I literally blurted out loud "Oh, OH! Is the mangaka... really... REALLY gonna go THERE?"

...

Oh... OH... they did... holy fuck they did..-

And then dial the parasocial feels to 800X learning the mangaka is also Chinese diaspora

And like... ok, also the certain type of appreciation for death?

Biased, displaced by displacement, but hit home in my own diasporic heart, given my Chinese acculturation and own feelings towards it

And then to hear the inspo being from a poem?

And a v sapphic one at that?

Fren, buddy, pal... I'm SIMPING, the artistic sapphic LONGING, to be swaddled in artistic arms trading thoughts and stories, via brush, pen, keyboard, ghey uhaul longing beyond the page and unhealthily directed at the parasocial shadow of the mangaka, I... I'm-

回家了

When the art makes you wanna then lowkey essay on the hauntological spectre of death and disposability of especially the Chinese woman but also unsaid as a component of the invisiblized weight of Chineseness, and yet here and in living gets woven together with a melancholic joyfulness, less acceptance and more "and yet we find the brightnesses within the darkest depths of shadow" type poetic relationships with endings

Comrades (in the yuri fans sense), oh, I've been struck, the wound, it pulsates, I know not how much longer left I linger on this side of the world

And yet these feelings, I savor as manna, truly, delicious

• a delulu fangirl, 199_ - 2026