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maxwell-grant · 9 months

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so with the show gone, what's your headcanon on the ventures's future? have the creators mentioned anything about it?

A few things in passing but not too much. Namely just that Dean is gonna lose his hair and that Hank will eventually step foot in Mars as an adventurer. I think Doc and Jackson said as much that they want to keep the door open for future stories in case they do get to come back, and that they'll always have new things they'll want to do, but anyway yes okay, post-show headcanons:

Doc burns through Jonas Jr's fortune and for the most part remains the same, but he eventually achieves a true breakthrough of his own: a permanent solution to hair loss. It comes with a few little side effect mutations but for the most part it does work and Doc is, reasonably pretty happy that for once he gets something to his name that he actually made and isn't something horrible done to him. "Reasonably happy" is as happy as Rusty is ever allowed to get, and he dies a few weeks later by something predictably stupid, like auto-erotic asphyxiation.

It's shitty, Dr Orpheus cries over it, but everyone kinda saw it coming.

Most of Doc's assets get seized and the boys actually don't get much, he forgot to put them in the will because he made it back when he still had the clone farm. Rusty's last wish is to be cremated so nobody gets to clone him, and for his ashes to be scattered at Spanakopita, which has become a big White Lotus-esque resort island since Doc's last visit, built by Giorgo almost entirely off the Venture fortune. On the boat ride to Spanakopita, (WHITE LOTUS SEASON 2 SPOILERS) Sgt Hatred dies exactly like Tanya did and nobody bothers to fish his body back up.

Eventually some Rusty clones will pop up over the years, one of which is gonna be on that offscreen Rusty that went on the Cleveland Time Machine adventure with Billy. Once they leave Rusty's science basement, Billy and Pete White will never make it to the big leagues, but they'll pretty much be together until the end, and they are gonna go on some real weird adventures, like freaky Doom Patrol stuff, St.Cloud is gonna get up to some shit in the future once he bumbles into becoming rich enough to warp space-time around him just by existing and turn into the world's first Level 100 antagonist by the least amount of effort humanly possible. Actually the whole world is gonna get a lot weirder in the future, when stuff like the cloning tech and anti-gravity music boxes bleed over into general public use.

At some point the Earth will be menaced by the return of General Treister, who has absorbed enough cosmic radiation to become Galactus (this one was mentioned in the artbook as something they'd play around with, if they ever brought Treister back). He will be stopped from devouring the planet by a joint effort between Hank Venture, the Guild and the OSI, and Hunter Gathers will sacrifice herself in the process, passing the OSI's leadership to Shore Leave, who will bring SPHINX back every few months just so he has an excuse to interject SPHINX! into sentences again for funsies. Brock essentially becomes the OSI's equivalent to Red Death: basically retired, but he goes on assignments a couple times per year or gets brought onboard for decision-making, some part of him actually does kinda like this life and he stands by the friends he's made in it. He keeps touch with the Ventures but for the most part he flies solo. At some point he will have enough illegitimate children across the world for them to start their own super spy group.

Hank becomes an adventurer, and for the most part he just remains Hank as always. He makes a lot of strange alliances all over the place, he doesn't resort as much to his entourage of personas but some still come up on occasion (the double life of Enrico Matassa is one for the history books), he reforms Shallow Gravy with Dermott (who is totally 100% getting kicked out of the OSI) and Gary and HELPeR and Scare Bear playing the triangle, for the most part he lives up to the idea of being more "Rusty Venture" than Rusty himself ever was and he becomes like the first major Venture adventurer who's not some kind of monster. He completely and totally blows out any chance at settling down into normalcy, but he lives an exciting life. 50/50 on him either dying young doing something incredibly stupid and careless, or somehow stumbling his way into full-blown Highlander immortality just as 21 foresaw.

Dean I think stays in New York full time and is another 50/50 on him: he's either gonna succeed in having a normal life, or he's becoming a villain, I'm taking the fandom side on this one, villain Dean is not the most exciting idea in the world but it has some legs to it and I can't see him being anything else if he's gotta be a part of that binary whether he likes it or not. In the former, I imagine he finishes college, maybe gets a degree in something lowkey, probably changes his name and settles down with somebody and stops answering most calls, basically makes it like Professor Van Helping in that his life is okay and that's just how he wants it. Villain Dean I think happens in largely a similar way to how it happened to Dr Girlfriend taking over the Guild: not something they wanted or planned to, but it's the best way to keep things stable and keep themselves afloat amidst the chaos that surrounds them whether they want it or not. Maybe he finally listens to King Crimson and it breaks his brain into mad science a bit, as it tends to do, or maybe he invokes his blood right to appoint himself Sovereign but otherwise keeps hands-free of the Guild, and only does it so the Guild leaves him alone and he can boss other villains into standing down. He's gonna have freaks in costume trying to get him for the rest of his life so, fuck it, when in Rome or something.

At some point in the very near future Mantilla takes over the Peril Partnership and guts it to make ARCH a real thing, and maybe in the future ARCH kinda replaces the Guild at the forefront of supervillain institutions, with the Guild having the final word in matters of diplomacy and the old guard and ARCH as the new high-tech face of things. She never succeeds in getting to be besties with Dr Girlfriend, but she does hit it off nicely with Sirena, who takes over after Wide Wale and fires basically everyone that was still around after the Morpho saga. The Order of the Triad actually does succeed in making it pretty big, with comparatively few players but some very powerful additions like Lila, Red Death's daughter, and some of Jefferson's old buddies. Definitely not Triana though, she's got better to do than run with her dad's crew. Somehow HELPeR winds up joining and gets married to the Pants Golem.

Gary is gonna keep on being Henchman 21 up until the moment The Monarch dies, at which point he might actually undergo another big transformation of the self and will probably just outright become a sidekick to the heroes. He's never going to truly be a hero or a villain himself, he gave those a try and he's pretty firmly the kind of guy that only comes to life when someone else tells him what to do, so I imagine he's gonna bounce around until he finds something he finds fulfilling, will probably go on plenty of adventures with Hank. Really by this point he's already an honorary Venture, with The Monarch out of the picture so goes the pretense. Sheila, I think she just runs the Guild for as long as she can, probably reformulates it into something more sustainable by the end of her run. Sheila's arc in the show is about her climbing the ranks and moving away from her role as a number two, and distancing herself more from The Monarch because of it, and she's not going back to her old life so I think she's just fully going to remain The Sovereign up until she gets too sick of it, possibly moves into politics at Radical Left's suggestion and hands the Guild off to Phantom Limb. Maybe even becomes President of the United States for a bit, if anyone in the cast is becoming president it's really gotta be her. Or maybe not since she's overqualified, but still, if she does, in the process she hands the Guild to Phantom Limb, who basically makes it a drinking buddies gentleman's club and is too retired and rich and old to care much about anything anymore.

The movie ends with a pretty firm statement that The Monarch is just going to keep on being The Monarch no matter what and that he will in fact never stop trying to arch Rusty, and he's had like a million chances to kill Doc by now and didn't seize any of them so really yes he will just keep doing this until one or both pass. And I'm definitely thinking Doc goes first, Malcolm is torn between celebrating and flipping the fuck out that Doc DARED to not let The Mighty Monarch kill him, and for a brief moment he's completely and totally unsure as to what the fuck is he going to do with his life. He's like this close to genuinely trying to turn his life around and try to be a Blue Morpho-esque hero again if only because he and Gary had some good times and, y'know by this point he hates the Guild more so than the OSI, but then the Rusty clones show up and, you know what, fine, I can work with this, THE SWEET RELEASE OF DEATH IS NO MATCH FOR THE ACID CUMSHOT OF VENGEANCE, DOCTOR VENTURE, MUUUHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! and then he crashes his new butterglider into a cliffside Wile E.Coyote style and he dies like two weeks into a new plan.

Gary cries, Sheila's heartbroken, but again, they and everyone totally saw this coming.

#replies tag #venture bros #the venture brothers #the venture bros #adult swim #doc hammer #jackson pollock #rusty venture #the monarch #dean venture #hank venture #brock samson #henchman 21 #dr girlfriend

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code31-onthedancefloor · 1 year

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totally agree with your tags on that post about jean. i try to stay out of jean discourse because i have mutuals who say that he’s their fav character, but…i just don’t get it tbh. also yes kimjean makes absolutely no sense to me. i feel like it’s more like playing with dolls than anything else. like if your headcanons deviate from the source material that much, what’s the point? why is it fun?

thank you for your ask! and i agree!

part of it is falling into the trap of 'colouring in the blanks' vis-a-vis harry's memory loss, i think. but as you said - at some nebulous point, you're just making an OC.

my mutuals range from indifferent-to-utter hatred when it comes to jean, so i have no problem writing a few more of my thoughts. this is mainly about the failures of capitalist institutions in general to keep people alive. bit of a sprawling rant under cut:

personally, jean (and the rest of the Precinct 41 cops) struck me as a mouthpiece for one of the clusters of problems that institutions like the police fall into: using 'personal' bias under the guise of 'for the good of the institution/society' to cut off a member/member of the public in need. looking out from the institution's windows, one might liken it to pruning dead flowerheads off a tree. from the outside in, it is tantamount to manslaughter.

that might sound like a large step to make - however, if you think about how it is, in many cases, legal for a landlord to suddenly evict one of their tenants and make them homeless in the middle of winter (for them to go on and die of cold on the street) - what is that, if not manslaughter with extra, authorised steps?

with that, i think what jean is capable of doing in the bad ending... harry, possibly going through withdrawal, disabled, healing from recent GUNSHOT WOUNDS, destitute, mentally ill, suicidal, amnesia-ridden and isolated, is left in the fishing village by jean to fend for himself. not even 'here are your house keys and a few rèal for a train fare. go home, you're fired'. he is just Left There. and there is nothing there for harry. unless he joins the fucking hardie boys or some shit, there's no way he's getting a job again. that's it - harry's dead to us now; which means he is dead, or will be very soon. the only thing that would keep him alive at that point would by the kindness of isobel and lilienne and the other residents of martinaise, which proves my point that the RCM itself is a failed, bigoted institution. when even the hotshot lieutenant double-yefreitor is ejected for being 'more trouble than he's worth' without the disability/pension pay that he honestly rightfully deserves, the place is fucked. jean knows that nothing harry can do or say can prevent this. harry can't afford a fucking lawyer to fight for his case.

as soon as harry purposefully drove him away while imploding in a suicidal mania, that was apparently reason enough for him to 'fuck off'... for him to just sit there doing fuck all while harry wakes up not knowing who he is, gets shot, and actually solves the fucking murder for him. and then jean sees the detritus of harry's many, many attempts at ending his own life, and all he can see is wasted assets; wasted budget; wasted time. and to rub salt in the wound: the only reason he brings Trant along is to 'see if harry's lying'. WHICH. jean KNOWS that harry's had amnesia blackouts before. judit knows that harry's had amnesia blackouts before. jean just wants to see if he can leverage enough over harry to get rid of him for good.

when it comes to jean in particular, i think people can project their own ideas about what he is 'meant to be' onto him. hell, i'm doing it now. but to some people, jean is meant to represent the 'long-suffering addict handler' who has been at the Mercy of the Big Bad Addict, just trying to do his job but inevitably dragged down by him. i don't want to disregard anyone who has tried for years to do damage control with friends and relatives who are addicts - however, i just don't think that the writers intended for this reading of his character. harry, historically, used drugs and alcohol as a method to solve cases more efficiently and probably self-medicate for mental illness and post-polio syndrome. he has a massive caseload which he shouldered for years, grinding his spirit against the murders of revachol. it sounds like he only became a 'non-functional addict' relatively recently (don't quote me on that). and as soon as he starts inevitably imploding, jean - the guy who was basically only playing second fiddle in that caseload - is already right there to kick him onto the street.

because that's what cops view mentally ill addicts as, right? it doesn't matter if they're prestigious in their own goddamn precinct. as soon as they've outlived their usefulness; their cost-effectiveness, they're gone. and That is what jean was there to carry out - in the bad ending. it doesn't matter that jean is clinically depressed. they both can't afford therapy, but only jean can continue working because his mental illness apparently isn't severe enough to the point that he's driving his car into the ocean in a desperate attempt to end his own life. because he is 'functional'.

and the worst part is - they're both miserable! they're both suffering! jean wants to kick harry out because he's sick of dealing with him. what makes jean sitting around the whirling-in-rags in a wig being useless Funny is that HARRY IS DOING HIS JOB FOR HIM! while not even knowing what money is or who he is or where he lives! and then jean can kick him out the RCM and leave him to die for not being 'functional' enough.

now there's more to say about the different endings. how the 'kim *truly* trusts you' check and make or break an ending and the variety of ways in which you can play harry and how your actions 'mid-game' can impact how the world interprets 'pre-amnesia harry'. different shit. you can play harry as a racist, fascist asshole. and as much as i would like for every racist, fascist asshole TO die in a ditch - safety nets such as universal healthcare/basic income & unconditional housing should be there to benefit Everyone. even racist, fascist assholes. otherwise, the point is defeated: like jean the RCM denying harry his past and a stable future because of illness and poverty. jean raging about 'the liberals' and the horrific ableist shit he said in regards to harry's disabilities should have sent alarm bells ringing in the minds of people who want to woobify him. (plus judit's 'well-meaning' infantilisation, and trant's poverty-tourism schtick. ew.)

failure of institutions and different rules for different groups of society based on bigotry aside, jean is ultimately only there for like 5 minutes. if you want an asshole with a mushy core, why not titus? if you want a guy with a lot of 'fill in the blanks' potential, why not goraçy kubrek?

why not tiago? why not mañana? why not ruby? why not lilienne? why not cunoesse? why not the dicemaker? why not the ravers? why not the student communists? why not lizzie? why not cindy? hell, the guy who gives you a slice of salami showed more humanity than jean did in the entire game and the only reason he's there is to give you a slice of salami! why jean?

it's a little detached from what i've said here, but social institutions & contracts and ignoring/bending the law for the purposes of third parties are talked a lot about in this great video by philosphytube!

#tl;dr: it's a mixture of projection + 'colouring in' + finding him attractive.#dare i tag this disco elysium #idk #this stewed in my brain on the train.#the question i mean. out of everyone presented in elysium's world... Why Jean?#if lugia hadn't made the comments about jean's c-cup breasts the jeanvic fandom would be dead #seriously tho. why 8957348957 fanart of Jean 'can you even go potty by yourself' Heron Vicquemare and not tiago.#fuck my stupid yaoi life #anonymous #ask

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wen-kexing-apologist · 1 year

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Eighth Sense Ep 2 Rewatch

Ok, listen. Am I watching this show and playing video games at the same time? Yes. Does that mean I am missing a lot? Yes.

But! The facial blurs when it comes to JaeWon seem very intentional and is especially evident when they are in the water:

Now, okay, there is 200% room for argument here that all the blurriness is because the cameraman is most likely filming in the water with a go-pro and has little to no control over the video quality. And that is totally something that can be true. And that is also totally something that would disguise any intentional, purposeful point of the blurriness in this moment.

And there is something else I noticed, the colors in this scene. Thanks, as always to @respectthepetty for turning me into a color monster.

The way the light refracts off of JiHyun's wetsuit makes the colors seem distorted.

Camera issue? Sure! But could it be another indication of JaeWon's altered mental status? Why the fuck not! I mean, we don't know how his brother died yet. Personally, my theory is that he drowned. Because so much of this show is water centric, because of the fish tank and the fact that our title card for Episode 2 is literally JaeWon surrounded by a fish tank as if he is under water.

I think it would be extra super spicy sad if it was when JaeWon was teaching his brother to surf. Just for the ~trauma~, and cause if that is true, then the blurriness and the distorted colors here once again is intentional, and is brilliantly capable of being written off by the audience as just difficult filming conditions.

So again, if that is the case, the blurriness is the altered mental status. And we can take that however we want, medically induced alteration, cognitive dissonance, anxiety, dissociation, all of them.

If the water killed JaeWon's brother, then being in the water would make him feel close to his brother and also be a great punishment for JaeWon. If his brother died learning to surf, then to teach a person the same age as his brother would have been would remind him of all that he had lost but give him that moment of soft remembrance to the person he loved most in the world.

And GOD we see this blurriness, much less obviously, but very rapidly cutting back and forth in the shower scene in Episode 3.

Out of focus

In focus.

Back and forth and back and forth every couple seconds like the camera isn't quite able to stick on his face. JaeWon wants to be present in this moment, JaeWon is fighting to remain in his body, tied to his emotions, tied to this person, so he is slipping in and out of focus because he's trying to fight the numbness and the brain fog.

And again, you cannot tell me this man is not dissociating. I'm sorry but those are some dead fucking eyes. This man is shut down, this man is not present in this conversation with his ex. Why would he be? Why would he try to be? He has no reason to fight the numbness he feels.

And we're back on the color train for JaeWon with JiHyun, with this soft pink light around his head when he joins JiHyun on the beach for their late night kiss conversation about fear.

Methinks JaeWon fears feeling anything, hence the hint towards drug dependence in Episode 6. I think it is so much easier for him to just be numb to the world so he doesn't have to feel the pain of the loss he suffered.

Anyway, the more I watch this show through the lens of mental illness, the more the camerawork is standing out to me with how and when they blur faces, and how it really only is JaeWon whose face is blurred when he's supposed to be in frame. Obviously there are instances where character's faces are going to be blurred because they are in the foreground or background, or they are not the focal point of the conversation. But JaeWon goes blurry far more often than anyone else does.

#the eighth sense #t8s #i'm sorry bengyio i know you want it to be real #i think maybe it is real #but i am stuck on the mental illness train and cant get off it now #jaewon #jihyun #jaewon x jihyun #the eighth sense theory #the eighth sense ep 2

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neonscandal · 5 months

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In what specific moments from Banana Fish & BNHA, that made you sure that Ash and Bakugou are special, that made them your favorite characters?

Agh, my boysssss! You had to dig deep in the asks for that specific lore. But, you must already know a little something to have honed in on these two characters specifically.

Generally, I love both of these characters for the same reason:

Enigmatic.They are introduced as brazen, arrogant and crude only to be exposed for their softness and complexity with time. They're onions (thank you Donkey from Shrek).

Intelligent nerds. Ash is literally prodigal and spends his time in the New York Library, nerd. Bakugo is quick-witted with an incredible battle sense and a grandpa bedtime, nerd.

Sarcasm. The above goes hand-in-hand with their intelligence but they're funny and flippant which makes them both abrasive but also entertaining. I love that they're both little shits.

Trauma. Both characters undergo trauma that is overlooked, to a degree, or minimized because of the nature of their character without allowing consideration for the fact that they may be rough around the edges as a response. The more you learn about their character, origin, motivations, it just endears you to them. Or at least that's what it did for me.

Bravado. In line with all the above, I think their overconfidence or the appearance of such also pushes them into corners where, even when scared or at a loss, they have no choice but push forward because its what people look to them for.

Redemption. Both of them carry burdens without a clear path forward but, ultimately, come around to doing what they think is the right thing for the people they care about. Even while battling their inner demons.

Kins.

⚠️ Spoiler warning for Banana Fish (anime) and MHA through chapter 410.

This scene, for starters.

Aslan Jade Callenreese

Arthur vs Ash, Final Showdown - At this point in the story, we've seen the things that Ash can and will do to protect his gang and we've come to understand that a 17 year old comes to be a fearsome gang leader by being as strong as he is ruthless, sometimes. But Eiji's introduction into his life creates a feeling of something he needs to protect and keep soft. I think what was compelling about the showdown with Arthur is how he was totally fine until he realized Eiji was there. It made him angry but, more likely, it made him fearful that Eiji would see in him the wretched person he believes himself to be. That fear is human and it shows he's not as stoic as he pushes himself to be.

Shooting at Cape Cod - Taking the story to Cape Cod was a choice. It was a temporary beat from the chaos of what would always follow them, as long as they still kept scratching at the mystery of what banana fish was. But Cape Cod also provided additional texture to Ash's character while beautifully illustrating how soft and carefree he could be before reality brings him back to himself. Showing Eiji to shoot and relaxing into the fun of it before being coldly reminded that he is who he is (not so much by Max but in realizing he was being perceived). Cape Cod is his origin and it is hideous and sad but, in the space of these moments, the trauma of it doesn't tarnish who he is. But it shows how and why he hides so much of himself.

Fear of Halloween - AGAIN, I love how you have this military trained (under Golzine's direction and Blanca's tutelage) who has undergone heinous trauma at the hands of pretty much every adult in his life. He grits his teeth and bares it, he pushes forward tempered by these horrible experiences but remains incredibly soft and vulnerable. His fear of Jack-o-Lanterns is just so unexpected and fodder for Eiji but I think it highlights something wholesome and sad in Ash.

Ash in Glasses. That's it, that's the justification.

Simply, Ash is a survivor and he deserved better than thinking he should crawl back to the library and die, discarded. I think the moments that endear him to me most are those unexpected bouts of vulnerability mixed into the facade he has to hold to simply survive in the life that a perfect storm of circumstances forged. Additionally, I think these moments are not just specific to Ash but typical of the chemical reaction between he and Eiji because it's Eiji who unlocks his vulnerability as the person who never wanted anything from him but for him to come home safe.

Katsuki Bakugo

Sludge Monster Villain - That desperate and pleading look that he shoots Midoriya is really the first glimpse of what's beneath all his bluster and it's the very moment that sets off Midoriya's hero origin story. It's also the first bit of trauma that just gets... glossed over in the story. See below for Useless Victory.

Sports Festival - The way he faces Uraraka earnestly (which is so grotesquely misconstrued by viewers) because of his general attitude and perception. I really need to wrap up all my Manga With Me chapters because most of the guys in Class 1A continue to overlook and underestimate the girls of Class 1A and 1B but Bakugo, quite earnestly, gives Uraraka the respect and consideration she deserves.

Useless Victory at the Sports Fest - Bakugo is so incredibly principled. He could take the easy win but, in his heart of hearts, if he couldn't beat Todoroki at his full strength, then he can never truly think that he bested Midoriya. He acts out in ways that are not understood by the readers or even the spectators in universe. Ultimately, they muzzle and shackle him echoing in the same way that the Sludge villain. The act shows the League of Villains and anyone else watching the best way to incapacitate him and also further likens him to a villain in the eyes of spectators who continue to vilify him.

The Little Ways He Cares - For the sake of not expounding too much, I thought to consolidate this into one bullet but really, Bakugo is like... so awkward. Like, he might want to connect with others but he has no idea how but I just know he thinks he's really doing something by being an enigmatic wall of fortitude.

1. Having Denki use his quirk to break the tension after the rescue crew got in trouble after saving him from the LOV and making it a point to pay Kirishima back. 2. The way he tries to be civil to Todoroki (because he's an eavesdropping little shit) 3. The way he subtly galvanizes Class 1A's effort for the school festival. 4. "When you guys are in danger, I will save you. When I'm in danger, you guys save me." 5. All of My Hero Academia: Heroes Rising 6. Being in Todoroki's room ahead of the war to face off against Dabi, even if he had no words to offer in consolation. 7. Telling Best Jeanist to look after everyone knowing he was about to sacrifice his life in the face off with Shigaraki

Character Growth Unencumbered by an Unreliable Narrator - As Midoriya begins to shelter his heart in later chapters, we start seeing more insight into Bakugo's true nature. His features soften, we see more of his Midoriya-centered thoughts, we comprehend the depth of his insecurities and how his past behavior was eating him up inside. There's a beautiful conclusion to his story as a hero, Kacchan Bakugo, with his fist held high. Paying homage to the man he looked up to (All Might and Midoriya), victorious in saving his idol and setting his childhood friend up to achieve certain victory. I can't wait to see how his story ends.

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animanganerd · 6 months

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Everything Annoys Me And I’m (Too) Hot - Chapter 25

The Untamed / Mo Dao Zu Shi Fanfic

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47881336/chapters/132143614

All chapters: here x

Chapter 25 ❖ Lin Yue (Part 2)

Mu Chun raised his head and saw Lan Xiaoli at the bar with an incredibly dark face.

Next to him stood Zhang Chengling, a little confused. Lan Xiaoli had called him out of his room to further interrogate Lin Yue, but now refused to approach them. Instead, he’d chosen to stay at the tavern's counter, scowling at the two sitting at the table.

Lin Yue puffed out a laugh. “It’s almost as if he’s jealous.”

Mu Chun only lowered his eyes.

“Oh…” Lin Yue shifted her eyes back at Lan Xiaoli. “Ohh. Whaaat? No way! He is jealous?? Of me!?”

Mu Chun chuckled softly. “Maybe he’s jealous of me.”

“...” Lin Yue’s gaze flicked back and forth between the two. It took a moment for the realisation to sink in. “Wait, you’re jealous too? You like each other?!” She straightened up in excitement, her foot slipping off Mu Chun’s lap.

“Nah, he hates me,” Mu Chun said, his head still inclined, staring at his now empty lap.

Lin Yue laughed. “No, my friend. He’s totally into you. Let me demonstrate,” she said and reached out to caress his hair.

Before Mu Chun could say anything, he got cut off by a sudden BAM. Another jar had been placed on the table with a little too much force. Mu Chun looked up at Lan Xiaoli, who was clutching the jar tightly, a vein bulging on the back of his hand.

Seeing the two of them hugging earlier had incredibly vexed him for some reason.

Try as he might to push Wen Kexing’s words about Mu Chun’s feelings aside, they were always at the back of his mind. And maybe, somewhere deep, deep down, he hoped they were true. The realisation they might be wrong after all annoyed him to death. So much so that it squeezed his heart until it ached.

Lin Yue pointedly dropped the leaf she’d just fished out of Mu Chun’s hair, and Lan Xiaoli felt a twinge of shame. To cover up his jealousy, he casually pointed at the jar of liquid already on the table. “Is this wine?”

“Yes,” Lin Yue answered.

“Good.” Lan Xiaoli took a seat at the other end of the bench, as far away from Mu Chun as possible, and poured himself a cup.

Zhang Chengling had followed close behind, but with Lan Xiaoli and Lin Yue each sitting at one end of the bench, there was no more room for him to sit down. Or rather, there was more than enough space, but Lan Xiaoli refused to move up to Mu Chun. Zhang Chengling stood there at a loss when Lin Yue called out.

“Chengling! Chengling!”

Zhang Chengling looked up and saw her waving him over.

“Scoot!” she said to Mu Chun, pushing him toward Lan Xiaoli, closer and closer, until he was practically sitting on Lan Xiaoli’s lap.

She then patted the bench to her right and addressed Zhang Chengling again. “You can sit here!”

Zhang Chengling breathed a sigh of relief and thankfully accepted her offer.

Mu Chun didn’t object to getting pushed closer to Lan Xiaoli. He was too busy staring at him in disbelief. “Alcohol is prohibited in your sect,” he reminded him.

Lan Xiaoli shrugged. “I am sure you would have fun seeing me drunk.” He clasped the wine cup with both hands and brought it up to his lips. The smell alone made him feel light-headed already.

Mu Chun snorted. “It would be entertaining, no doubt, but I don’t think you can hide it from your dad.”

“Father.”

“Hm?”

“My father, not my dad.”

Mu Chun blinked. “Same thing.”

Lan Xiaoli shot him a glare. “It is not.”

Mu Chun sighed. “Fine. Your father might kill me because everything that happens to you is somehow my fault.”

Lan Xiaoli cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “Is it not?”

“It’s your choice, how is it my fault?” Mu Chun argued.

Lan Xiaoli slowly turned his head towards him, his smug smile not fading one bit. “There would be no wine here without you.”

“...” Mu Chun only shook his head. “...I really hate you sometimes.”

“What about the other times?” Lan Xiaoli probed teasingly.

Mu Chun just smiled at him. With Lan Xiaoli’s attention diverted from the wine cup, Mu Chun swiftly snatched it from his hands and emptied it.

“Hey!!” Lan Xiaoli protested. “You…” He sent Mu Chun an angry look before refilling his cup and quickly downing it himself.

Lin Yue had moved closer to Zhang Chengling in the meantime and leaned back, pleased with herself. “They’re quite a couple, aren’t they?” she sighed.

Zhang Chengling could only manage a bitter chuckle. “Unfortunately.”

After finishing the cup, the alcohol immediately rushed to Lan Xiaoli’s head. The world around him began to spin, forcing him to clutch the table’s edge for support. He dazedly looked at the other three sitting with him.

When his eyes fell on Lin Yue, he remembered something so violently that it felt like he’d been struck by lightning. “Young lady!!”

Lin Yue looked at Mu Chun and Zhang Chengling, then pointed at herself. “Me?”

Lan Xiaoli spun around and pointed at her as well. Losing his grip, he crashed into Mu Chun and burst out laughing. He put one hand on Mu Chun’s shoulder to pull himself up while wagging his finger at Lin Yue.

“Yes, you! Just what have you done?”

Lin Yue narrowed her eyes and looked at him in confusion. She had no idea what he was getting at.

Lan Xiaoli squinted his eyes in return and leaned closer toward her, half-climbing on Mu Chun. Since she didn’t answer, Lan Xiaoli clarified, “Why are all these men after you?”

“...” This story wasn’t something she’d like to tell someone who was drunk. She grabbed the wine jar and said, “Why don’t you have another drink?”

The moment she wanted to refill his cup, Mu Chun slapped her away. “Stop. He’s had enough.”

Lin Yue nodded in compliance and said, “Fair enough.”

“I’m not even drunk yet!!” Lan Xiaoli argued.

Mu Chun arched his eyebrows. “Oh really? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two.”

“What’s your name?”

“Lan Xiaoli.”

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Do you like someone?”

“Maybe.”

Mu Chun’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh? Who is it?”

“M…mmmhhahaaha. Nice try, nice try,” Lan Xiaoli giggled, wagging his finger at Mu Chun as if he’d just caught a child being naughty.

As he grinned at the cheeky Mu Chun on whose lap he was still half kneeling, Lan Xiaoli suddenly was reminded of something else. His eyes widened and his finger halted. In an attempt to lean even closer to the other two, Lan Xiaoli was now practically lying on the table.

“Lemme tell you something, kids!!”

Both Zhang Chengling and Lin Yue were a little taken aback to hear this coming from the youngest person at the table, but they both put on their most obedient faces, indicating they were listening.

“This guy,” he pointed at Mu Chun, “totally doesn’t know how to kiss!” He slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laughter. Once it had successfully died in his throat, he continued, “He… He tried it once but then… then he… hahahaha!” Thinking of the rest of the story, he couldn’t hold back anymore, almost rolling on the table from laughing so hard.

The owner of the tavern scowled at them, so Mu Chun hauled Lan Xiaoli back onto the bench and locked an arm around his waist to hold him in place.

“And he wants me to teach him!” Lan Xiaoli said with a snicker, giving the others a look that said ‘Can you believe it?!’

Zhang Chengling and Lin Yue exchanged an awkward look, not sure how to react. They gave him a small smile out of courtesy.

“Because you’re so experienced,” Mu Chun interjected. The sarcasm in his tone wasn’t caught by Lan Xiaoli.

He looked at Mu Chun with half-lidded eyes and a befuddled smile. “I did give plenty of kisses, but only to one person,” he said, holding up one finger right in front of Mu Chun’s nose. “Can you guess who?”

Of course he could, it was painfully obvious, but Mu Chun lightly shook his head nonetheless. “No, tell me.”

“I’ll show you!” He grabbed Mu Chun’s head and pressed his lips to his cheek. It was a very wet and clumsy peck, not romantic at all. “Who do you kiss like that?”

The question was addressed to all of them, but he’d barely given them any time to open their mouths before answering himself. “Family! I used to kiss my dad like this all the time!” Then he started to laugh his ass off again, slapping Mu Chun’s shoulder. “It’s like the one you gave me! Hahahaha!”

It was all fun and games at first, but now both Zhang Chengling and Lin Yue felt like throwing up after being exposed to such shameless flirting. Lin Yue in particular regretted her actions. They had both downed a few cups of wine themselves by now.

After laughing for a while, Lan Xiaoli slowly calmed down and leaned against Mu Chun, completely exhausted. Resting against the older youth felt incredibly good, so good that a contented sigh escaped his lips.

Lan Xiaoli couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed with such abandon. He thought about it for a while with his eyes closed, until his mind wandered completely off track and landed somewhere else.

“Chun-ge…” he murmured.

Mu Chun still had his arm around Lan Xiaoli, his thumb gently stroking Lan Xiaoli’s hip. As he inclined his head, his nose registered a faint scent of orchids that wafted from Lan Xiaoli. He’d noticed the scent on Lan Xiaoli a few times before, but it was strongest when they were close together, and it was much more intoxicating than the wine on the table.

“Hm?”

Lan Xiaoli tilted his head to gaze up at the other’s face. “Do you really want to kiss me?” he asked with big eyes. Mu Chun responded with a smile so soft it tugged at Lan Xiaoli’s heartstrings, forcing him to quickly avert his eyes again.

“I mean, why would you?” Lan Xiaoli laughed quietly, “Someone told me it’s because you like me… is that true?”

Mu Chun’s smile faded. Someone…? Had he really discussed this with someone? The movements of his hand halted for a moment before he asked, “Why don’t you ask me when you’re sober?”

“...because I’m scared of the answer,” Lan Xiaoli whispered in a raspy voice, as if it was something truly scary.

Mu Chun couldn’t help but chuckle. “There’s really just two possibilities: Yes or No. Which one scares you?”

“Both,” Lan Xiaoli replied. His eyes suddenly were weighed down by a heavy drowsiness. He hadn’t realised just how tired he was, and gradually drifted off.

Mu Chun knew it wasn’t fair to ask Lan Xiaoli this question while he was drunk, considering he himself wanted Lan Xiaoli to be sober for his reply. But when he heard him say “both”, Mu Chun was completely stunned. How could he be scared of both?

“What do you mean?” he asked, gently shaking Lan Xiaoli. “A-Li? What do you mean?” He lifted the other’s head by the chin and gave him a light slap, but it was no use. Lan Xiaoli was fast asleep.

“Wow, what a bunch of light-weights.”

Hearing Lin Yue speak reminded Mu Chun of the other two’s presence. She was poking Zhang Chengling who had dozed off as well.

Mu Chun heaved a sigh. “Let’s call it a night,” he said. “Can you help Chengling to his room?”

“Sure.” Lin Yue draped one of Zhang Chengling’s arms around her shoulders and helped him to his feet. He was still conscious enough to move his legs himself.

Mu Chun circled one arm around Lan Xiaoli’s back and placed the other beneath the crook of his knees to carry him to his room. On his way upstairs, Lan Xiaoli’s voice rang out softly.

“Chun-ge…”

Mu Chun’s heart jumped. “Hm?”

Lan Xiaoli reached out with his hand and gently stroked his cheek. He then giggled drunkenly before passing out again.

“...”

Lan Xiaoli woke up in his bed. The moment he opened his eyes, they were assaulted by glaring sunlight. He had to shield them with his arm to keep them open.

He gave his surroundings a once-over; nothing looked familiar. He had no idea how he ended up here, but his brain didn’t seem in the mood to think right now. He sat up with a groan and rubbed his temples, trying to get rid of what could easily be the world’s worst headache. Eyes closed, he tried to piece together the events from last night but found himself drawing a blank.

Beaten by his non-existent memory, he made his way downstairs to meet with his companions. Despite having slept well past mao time, he was still the first to arrive at their table. He let himself drop down onto the bench.

While he waited for the other two, he shut his eyes and propped his elbows on the table to massage his temples. Mu Chun was the second to show up. He sat down across from Lan Xiaoli, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, and gazed at him in silence until the latter opened his eyes.

Lan Xiaoli’s eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

Mu Chun just shook his head. “Told you not to drink,” he said in a patronising tone.

Lan Xiaoli flashed an annoyed smile but felt too miserable to argue. He continued to wordlessly massage his brow until Zhang Chengling joined them.

While the three youths were having breakfast, none of them mentioned what had happened last night. Instead, Mu Chun summarised Lin Yue’s background in a few sentences. Lan Xiaoli was so preoccupied with his blackout that he’d almost forgotten about her if Mu Chun hadn’t mentioned her.

Not long after, Lin Yue arrived as well, as if she’d sensed them talking about her.

“You guys alright?” she asked.

“Yeah… thanks again for your cooperation …and sorry if we caused any inconveniences,” Lan Xiaoli said.

“Hahaha, if anything I’m the one that caused trouble,” Lin Yue replied, glancing at Mu Chun.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mu Chun said. “Good thing you came, we were just about to leave.”

“Unless you need our help with anything else?” Zhang Chengling added.

Lin Yue laughed again. “Nah, I’m fine. Always have been, always will be. …Oh! Why did you guys ask about this Murong Zheng anyway?”

Lan Xiaoli’s face turned dark. “It is a long story… but to make it short, he is my uncle and he killed my parents. He is also the reason for this,” he said, pointing at his white hairline.

Lin Yue gaped at him. “That’s… heavy,” she said. “So what are you going to do about him?”

“Take revenge!” Lan Xiaoli exclaimed and regretted it immediately. His raised voice caused his head to throb even more.

“We want to find him first,” Mu Chun cut in. “Then we’ll think of something.”

“So you guys don’t even know where he is?”

“We hope to find him in Tianxuan,” Zhang Chengling said.

Lin Yue let out a whistle. “That’s quite a distance.”

Zhang Chengling and Mu Chun nodded with sombre expressions, while Lan Xiaoli kept on massaging his forehead.

“…Are you sure you’re okay?” Lin Yue asked again, directing her question at Lan Xiaoli.

“Just got a slight headache…”

“I know something that might help,” Lin Yue said with a grin. “It’s a herbal mixture in the form of a pill. You just swallow it with some water and the headache should be gone in about thirty minutes. Come on, I’ll show you.”

A moment later, Lin Yue was leading the trio to the herb shop. After a few minutes, she came to an abrupt halt and threw her arms out in a presenting fashion at the building in front of them. “This is it.”

“I’d also like a pill, please,” Zhang Chengling said. His headache wasn’t as grave as Lan Xiaoli’s, but it was present nonetheless.

Once Lan Xiaoli had acquired the much-needed medicine, Lin Yue accompanied the group to the edge of the village to exchange proper farewells.

“You know…” she said, addressing Lan Xiaoli, “there’s a spell for that. To change your hair back to its natural colour? Unless… you want to outgrow it like that.”

Lan Xiaoli threw the other two a disbelieving look. He had not known this, but he was sure they did. And his dads most certainly did too! He then smiled at Lin Yue.

“Thanks again,” he said, fishing out a small pouch from the inside of his robes and handing it to Lin Yue.

She looked at it with slightly narrowed eyes. “What is this?”

Lan Xiaoli gave the pouch a firm shake, causing the insides to rattle. “This should be enough for you to pay off your debt and feed your family. It also covers your mother’s medicine.”

Lin Yue stared at him in disbelief. She let out a nervous laugh and waved with both her hands. “I can’t take this. I don’t need handouts.”

“It is not a handout. Your help means a lot to me. The information you provided is of great value to us. This is not nearly enough in my opinion, I can send you more if you need it. In return, you contact us if you see or learn anything new about him.”

“...” Lin Yue paused for a moment. She dropped her arms, fighting back the tears in her eyes. “Fine,” she finally squeezed out. “But I won’t need more than this.”

Lan Xiaoli smiled at her, and the three boys took their leave. Hugging the money pouch to her chest, Lin Yue waved after them until they were out of sight.

Lan Xiaoli walked beside Zhang Chengling as they ambled through the tranquil forest landscape. While swallowing the pill with some water, his gaze was fixed on Mu Chun, who was walking ahead of them. Mu Chun’s tied-up hair swayed in the cool forest breeze, the dark strands gently brushing across his cheek. Lan Xiaoli’s eyes were locked on the smooth, pale skin that covered said cheek.

He didn’t know why, but he had this deep-seated conviction that it was soft to the touch. Just then, a memory of him stroking this very spot flashed in his mind. As if pushed by an invisible force, Lan Xiaoli subconsciously took a step forward and grabbed Mu Chun.

Startled by the sudden grasp, Mu Chun faltered in his steps. He looked at Lan Xiaoli, perplexed. “What’s wrong?”

When Lan Xiaoli realised he’d grabbed the other’s hand, he let go as if he’d been stung by a poisonous insect. To block out the memory of what surely had just been a dream – which somehow felt worse – Lan Xiaoli broached a whole different topic. “Why did you never mention your powers? A lot of things could have been so much easier.”

Mu Chun grinned. “Look who’s full of energy again! I thought this pill takes thirty minutes to work?”

“Answer me!”

“No reason, really. We’ve just never been in a situation that called for it,” Mu Chun replied.

“...” Lan Xiaoli could think of a few situations that had called for it, but Mu Chun clearly didn’t want to explain himself, so Lan Xiaoli didn’t press any further – for now.

When the trio returned to the junction of the three roads, the rest of the group was already waiting for them. The three parties shared their findings and quickly noticed a pattern.

“The village we visited was hit by a flood,” Lan Xiaoli reported.

“Ours was buried by a rockslide,” Wei Wuxian said.

“Ours too,” Wen Kexing noted.

“So they were all hit by a natural disaster,” Zhou Zishu summed up. “And Murong Zheng just happened to be nearby to help them deal with the damage. Right?”

“Yep,” Wei Wuxian and Lan Xiaoli said in unison.

“And let me guess, in return, he received a medal for selfless behaviour, a small secondary home, some kind of high status in the village, a statue in his name, and the eternal gratitude of the villagers,” Wen Kexing counted on his fingers. “Is that correct?”

“Yes!” Zhang Chengling exclaimed. Wei Wuxian also nodded, his expression pensive.

“Well, he only received a bust in our village,” Lan Xiaoli said. “Am I right, Chun-ge?”

Mu Chun didn’t answer right away, appearing lost in thought. Lan Xiaoli nudged him gently. “Chun-ge? Why are you so quiet?”

At the nudge, Mu Chun snapped out of his reverie and chuckled softly. “Maybe I had too much to drink last night…” he offered as a feeble excuse.

Lan Wangji’s ears perked up. His eyes shifted to Lan Xiaoli who vehemently shook his head. “I did not touch any of it, do not worry,” he said with a nervous laugh.

“But yes, Murong Zheng is the one who initiated the request for the statues. Grateful as the villages are, not all could afford a statue, so they settled for a bust instead,” Mu Chun explained.

The others exchanged glances before returning their eyes to him. “Our village didn’t mention that it was Murong Zheng’s idea,” Wei Wuxian said.

“Ah… then maybe it was only the case in our village. At least, that’s what Lin Yue told me,” Mu Chun explained.

“Sounds plausible,” Zhang Chengling agreed. Lan Xiaoli’s face, on the other hand, turned dark at the thought of Mu Chun and Lin Yue in their embrace.

“Anyway, one thing we can be sure of is that this guy showing up during disasters is way too much of a coincidence,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s obvious that he’s trying to build his own small empire. We need to stop him.”

Everyone agreed. Not wanting to lose any more time, they continued their journey without further delay. After three full days of travel, their next stop was a city called Huyan. Part of the reason for choosing this particular city was the troubling reports they’d heard about missing children.

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs #the untamed #mdzs fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #everything annoys me and i'm too hot #eamaith #wei wuxian/lan wangji #wwx/lwj #word of honor #woh #zhou zishu/wen kexing #zzs/wkx #crossover #adoption #found family #original characters

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epicspheal · 2 years

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Do you think Red and Blue's fallout was one-sided or a bit on both sides? I feel like their age, rivalry, and the people around them all played a part in it, but in writing the apology chapter between them I don't want to be the person who only makes one side apologize (Blue) because in most other media, leaving the other to be totally innocent can be a point of ire, esp when Red is involved cause he's kinda the games "overrated poster boy" at times? But what if I put the wrong blame on him?

Hi there anon! So in canon all we know is that Blue stopped playing with Red sometime just before they headed out on their journey. But we're not really given anything as to why there was a fallout in gameverse. At least in the anime we see that Ash and Gary had a bit of a falling out over a Pokeball they both fished up that kind of really kickstarted the bitterness we see between them during the OS saga.

As someone who has read quite a bit of Reguri/Namelessshipping fics from what I've seen it's generally accepted that Blue was the one at fault for the split but there's usually more emphasis on outside circumstances such as bringing up how Pokemon Zensho manga has it that Blue and Daisy's parents are dead. It's also not uncommon to reference the FRLG dialogue that shows off more of how Oak is rather blatantly favoritism of Red over Blue with the "How disappointing" line if Blue wins the first battle at the lab or this line when the players receives the National Pokedex: "Hey, I heard that! Gramps, what's with favoring <player> over me all the time? I went and collected more Pokémon and faster, too. You should just let me handle everything." So usually when it comes to the initial fallout I don't think there's anything wrong with making Blue solely to blame because there's no evidence to really suggest otherwise. If you want to include things like the death of his parents or Oak's favoritism as reasons why he turned so sour so suddenly I think that definitely helps add context as to why he had a sudden change up in personality.

Personally (at least in my canon) Red, nor Leaf saw that fallout coming and were equally blindsided by Blue's sudden change in behavior. His change in behavior at least in my canon is due to a combo of parents dying and Oak not being the most emotionally intelligent parental substitute given the fact that A) he's grieving the loss of his own child and B) Blue is a more emotional kid than he was used to raising which caused him to compare Red (who was more like his now-deceased son in being more quiet and less outwardly emotional). So Oak is in no way abusive in my own canon (as much as I despise game!Oak’s actions I really dislike the whole he was abusive/homophobic to Blue subplot). But his inability to meet Blue where he was at during a really critical time made Blue feel as if he was unloved and that he preferred Red which caused his 11-year old mind to think “well if I’m not friends with Red anymore my life will improve” which is of course flawed thinking...but he was eleven and I’m not expecting a kid his age who just lost his patients to have the most rational mindset.

I think if anything where there's a mutual apology it usually comes during the events of HGSS where Red had disappeared to Mt. Silver without telling anyone, not even his mom. In Blue's dialogue when you call him in HGSS he sounds rather shaken up when mentioning Red showing that he is worried and misses him. Even his own sister mentions that he is lonely. So typically apologies if any come from Red usually involve the abrupt departure after taking the title of Kanto Champion from Blue rather than the initial fallout because he hurt a bunch of people, not just Blue, in leaving like that. Like again for my own specific canon, Red apologizing comes solely for disappearing without a trace and again leaving both Blue and Leaf blindsided (poor Leaf here having to deal with both of her childhood friends having such drastic actions)

#trainer red #trainer blue #blue oak #trainer leaf #professor oak #cactusverse #ask epic spheal

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doverstar · 2 years

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I love your hellcheer fic! I saw a question you answered about Jason and I totally agree with your every word.I also don't like it when Jason is portrayed as abusive just to justify why Chrissy wants Eddie. I wanted to know how you see Chrissy and Jason's relationship? Why do you think she never mentioned her problems to him?

Hi! Thank you very much! :D This’ll be another long-ish answer if you’re okay with that!

I don’t like that either. Chrissy should want Eddie because they gel better. Because she genuinely likes him better as a person, as a friend, as a partner. Because her feelings for Eddie run deeper than her feelings for Jason do. And that should happen slowly in my opinion, with good reason. None of this Nancy Wheeler fish flip-flopping. It shouldn’t be because he’s the only other option who’s potentially nice to her, or because he lets her get high and makes her feel ‘free’ (even though we had zero evidence canonically that her life didn’t make her feel free; her mom sucks and she has body image issues - everything else is conjecture by fans), and worst of all, Chrissy shouldn’t get with Eddie solely because Jason is sexually/emotionally/physically abusive in any way, and Eddie just isn’t and he’s cute and ‘bad’ and that’s somehow enough.

Jason doesn’t have to be horrible for Chrissy to justify leaving him. Jason can be an okay or even a blah boyfriend and Chrissy can find she wants Eddie more or likes Eddie better over time, no abuse anywhere, and she’d still be within her rights to dump Jason. If she doesn’t want to be with him, she shouldn’t be with him. That’s unfair to him and unfair to herself. Who says he has to be abusive for Eddie/Chrissy to work? Who says that’s the only way? Jason was egotistical and unhinged and hurting in canon, and his actions are inexcusable, but they do not automatically mean he’s abusive. He just seems a little manipulative.

But why would he manipulate Chrissy pre-Vecna? Realistically? He cared about her to some degree. He probably never had to trick her or play some part for her. He’s self-assured, overprotective, talented, a natural leader, he’s got a nice smile and comes from a good family and he’s probably nice to her. Why would Chrissy ever see that unhinged side of him? She had to get her bones snapped and eyes burst before Jason ever acted that way. He had an intense reaction to an intense loss. You don’t know what you’ll be like when something like that happens. Maybe I’d go buy a gun too. (Definitely. I’d definitely buy a gun are you kidding me yikes-)

Anyway. As to your question (so sorry, went on a tirade!) I answered a little of it up there - I think Chrissy and Jason had the usual on-fire, blushing, sweet love story when they first got together - they both crushed, he asked her out, they immediately went steady because come on, it fits - then they’re together all the way into senior year. They know each other well. They were probably friends before dating. His friends are her friends, probably go to the same church and everything. Each set of parents adores the other’s S.O. It’s all easy, it’s all normal. Then it would get into a lull toward graduation, where it’s routine, but neither of them really think about why they’re together and what they actually want out of this relationship/life. It’s just the norm.

I don’t think they’re right for each other deep down - Chrissy, if she’d lived and survived the Upside Down with the Scooby Doo gang, would probably grow a bit more of a spine and realize she doesn’t want to marry Jason. In fact, she doesn’t even have really strong romantic feelings about him and hasn’t for a while - so why continue to date him? And Jason definitely wouldn’t want to get dumped, because pride, but when he matures a little he’ll see, too, that it wasn’t the right match. Maybe they’d even keep in touch after the soreness wears off.

As for if she’d tell him about struggling with her mom/body image/Vecna, I tried to show in the fic a little - I don’t think she was telling anyone how bad things were. That’s the kind of stuff you hide naturally. When you’re a teenager, the idea of revealing to anyone that you don’t like how you look is mortifying - especially your boyfriend - because then you’d feel like if you point out your flaws, they’ll suddenly notice those flaws, and you’re screwed. Plus it’s just embarrassing. And how do you tell people your mom makes you feel like crap all the time? She’s your mom. Your first instinct would maybe be that they won’t believe you, or won’t believe it’s that bad. Second instinct might be that you’re wrong about your mom and you’re just too sensitive and you tell yourself to shut up. Third instinct - again, it’s embarrassing. Chrissy seemed like a cinnamon roll from what we saw of her. (Yes, I definitely pay close attention to what Grace Van Dien tells us she believes about her character, because that’s as close to canon as I think we’ll get.) She’s sweet, she’s a lil introverted, she has body image issues. That seems like a girl who would hide her problems, not want to cause trouble, not want to stand out. She wouldn’t tell Jason. She wouldn’t complain about her mommy to her boyfriend, and she wouldn’t whine about her weight (he might notice her ‘weight’), and she definitely, absolutely, would not tell anyone she’s seeing things and hearing things.

Not only are the Vecna visions scary, they’re unbelievable. It’s weird to see a clock everywhere. It’s weird your mom’s voice is attached to rubbery clawlike feet under the bathroom stall door. Spiders in the woods. You feel like you’re going crazy. Headaches, nosebleeds, nightmares. All of that is scary and you’d want to tell someone, but it clearly wouldn’t be her mom and she doesn’t tell any of her friends. So she wouldn’t tell Jason unless it’s absolutely necessary - and unless he saw actual Upside Down proof in front of him, let’s face it, he wouldn’t believe it. Lots of people wouldn’t unless they had evidence.

The only time she ever talks about what’s going on with her [that we see] is when she asks Eddie for drugs and if he ever feels like he’s losing his mind. I don’t think Eddie gave off a comforting vibe by the time she asked him that. He was obviously irritated that she was jumpy (he seemed to think it was because of him and his reputation and what might happen if someone saw her talking to him, but we know she was jumpy because Vecna visions). I think Chrissy asked him that because they were alone in the woods, she was probably never gonna talk to him again outside of this transaction, why would he tell anyone, she has to talk to someone - it’s a relatively safe space to vent. Not because he’s cute or special or made her feel comfortable right away. Because he was there and saying that, then, to him, was safer socially than telling anyone else. She doesn’t even go into detail for what is (for all intents and purposes) a stranger. Why would she unload to her boyfriend?

Those are my thoughts. I love these questions/responses! Makes me wanna write.

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spnfanficpond · 2 years

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September 2022 Angel Fish Awards

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Welcome to this month's Angel Fish Awards!

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE (you don’t have to be a member) CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. Everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that this fun, thoughtful award will do just that.

Be sure to read through this whole post as people who were nominated more than once only had one tag activated for Tumblr tagging purposes!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE THIS MONTH’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

The Pact (series) by @coffee-obsessed-writer

I had lost track of this series a while back, but I recently found it again, and I’M SO HAPPY! For those who steer away from smut, the smut is minimal in this series, but the plot is maxxed out! There’s everything you could want: mystery, intrigue, magic, enemies to lovers, daddy issues, found family, and true love. (The masterlist doesn’t have the two most recent chapters on it, but they are easily found on Jen’s blog.) Only start reading this if you’ve got some time to spare because you won’t want to take a break!

Proud by @waywardnerd67

Tumblr was being a pain and decided that I didn’t need to see any of Nerdy’s tags for me for... *checks calendar* ...FIVE YEARS. I missed a couple of YEARS worth of these little drabbles and ficlets! Well, 2017′s loss is 2022′s gain because I’m getting them all in dribs and drabs, now. This is just one of the dozens of these little stories that are like little, yummy snacks of fics. They’re bite-sized morsels of mostly fluff (there are some that are angst or smut, too) that are perfect for when you’re on the go! Be sure to check them all out!

The New Mrs. Winchester (series) by @percywinchester27

I thought I had already nominated this series, which is my only reason for not having nominated it before!! This is a Sam x Reader AU with so many mysteries that I’m on the edge of my seat waiting to find out what happens next. We have heard just enough of what has happened in the reader’s past to know it wasn’t pretty, but Sam’s past, and why Dean is nowhere to be found, is still completely unknown. The back half of your chair won’t get much use while you’re reading this because you’ll be on the edge of your seat!

~*~*~

Nominated by @percywinchester27

Reluctant Renegade (series) by @deangirl93

I really like how the SPN scenario is completely reversed in this one. I've only just started with it, and the story has already gripped me. I'm curious to see how much more of an anti-hero Dean can be and the reader is very interesting! Looking forward to reading more!

~*~*~

Nominated by @mariekoukie6661

Family Matters by @glygriffe

I thought it was a really great story and I loved that it was different! I really liked the « what if this happened instead » ! I really enjoyed it!

~*~*~

Nominated by @princessmisery666

Hunter/Hunted (series) by @talesmaniac89

I need to catch up but the 15 parts I've read are amazing. So few words in each part but each one gave me just enough to want more and enjoy the ride. Excellent work.

Without A Stitch by @raidens-realm

I loved the idea of the bunker being a living entity and wanting to take care of the boys. Bonus for Sam being naked most of the time 😂

Butter Knife by @fictional-affairs

Can't beat a bit of miscommunication and love confessions. 💓

A Little Trip by @mariekoukie6661

I could totally picture the guys walking around in absolute amazement and getting lost like we all do in Ikea.

The Best and Worse Plans by @girl-next-door-writes

I am a total fangirl for @girl-next-door-writes and I can never resist putting in a request when they open them up. This one was perfect for that gif.

Big Brother by @girl-next-door-writes

Emma indulged me again and this broke my heart but is soooooo in character 😭Dean will always sacrifice his happiness for his brother.

THANK YOU ALL FOR THE AWESOME WORK AND GREAT FEEDBACK!

These are not actual awards, as in, there is no competition! This system is set up so everyone has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author in the Pond that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

#angel fish awards #angel fish awards masterlist #spnfanficpond #fan fiction #fanfiction #fan fic #fanfic #spn fan fiction #spn fanfiction #spn fan fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #fic rec #spn fic rec #supernatural fic rec

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cicaklah · 1 year

Text

Star Trek Picard 3x04 thots

time for thots again

k so if you're new to my thots on star trek you probably should know that while I love picard as a character it is because he's an arrogant asshole who gets away with too much and deserves to be taken down a peg. Its one of the many, many reasons Sisko is my favourite captain, is that Sisko hates Picard for killing his wife and ruining his life. I like the idea that Picard is a hugely divisive figure in Starfleet and across the Federation because of what happened at Wolf 359 but more importantly, what happened afterwards. I think if the show had been a bit less chaotic that would have been the prestige tv to end all prestige tv, i.e. addressing the complex legacy of Picard the man.

anyway all this ties into my feelings that Shaw is right and should say it. Shaw's story of how he survived Wolf 359 was wonderfully affecting especially countering Picard's personal brand of mythmaking, i.e. he is still a man who cannot deal with not being the hero. Which is exactly what I WANT from my star trek. Picard believes one thing about himself, that he is a humble starfleet captain man who has never done anything wrong in his entire life, who isn't a showboater or a storyteller, while being the exact opposite: he should know that fish and chips shouldn't be eaten cold, yet he abandons his lunch to show off to a bunch of cadets. Was this once? Or was it a frequent occurence?

The twist in the tail that Picard's arrogance and showboating cost him the relationship with his son felt a bit lost, but that might have been on me losing focus. I liked and sympathised with Jack, who would have been, what, 18? Going to go make a great declaration, tracking down his biological father on the encouragement of his mother, and being accidentally cruelly rebuked as irrelevant. And then five years later trying to make a good thing of it, asking about hair loss etc, and picard just showing that he's way too self-involved to actually be able to relate.

Its a pity there's not going to be any real emotional fallout, or even Picard learning a lesson in his old age, because the show, after four episodes of doing a Not Bullshit Plot, has decided to bring in some Bullshit in the last few minutes. Jack is having visions!!!! Son of Picard is SPECIAL!!! Why do the changelings want him...and why did they know that the Titan was going to pick him up?? Either changelings are all through the federation (as implied in one ds9 episode, where a changeling tells Odo that there are dozens if not hundreds of sleeper agents throughout the federation who are never mentioned again), or what, Beverly is a changeling? I think it might be the sleeper agents leftover from the dominion war, but that is one hell of a story to pick up if so.

Idly, I wonder if they've ever asked Ira Steven Behr if he wants to come back and do a legacy show? Not that I necessarily want ds9 season 8, but I do find it odd that they've got none of the original writers back in for these last hurrahs with old writers (not since Bryan Fuller kicked it all off with the original concept for Disco, anyway). Today's episode was fine, but again it felt like a remix of some older episodes. I was sort of excited that maybe the nebula would be that Super Changeling that was mentioned in the beta novels (drink), which dies and basically fractures the link, but thats always too much to hope for. Still, space babies.

Anyway, another thot I had this week was that they have totally fucked up the casting of Jack, since he looks 33, not 23, and TNG onward casting was always to cast younger not older. Its like someone got confused, though I can't fault them, he looks so much like a baby patstew it really was a gift.

misc other thoughts:

captain shaw probably won't make another appearance but I love him, oh captain my asshole captain

who the fuck drinks white wine with fish and chips

oh seven my seven. excited for her and Raffi to be reunited maybe, not that there's going to be any space for them to be happy.

it was lovely to have a star trek breakfast, however I did sort of ruin it by not getting up til midday.

these are my thots on yaoi kthxbye

#star trek #star trek picard #picard spoilers #picard season 3 #picard thots

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wisdom-and-such · 2 years

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‘The Reality of Reincarnation’ by Alan Watts

“As far back as I can remember, I have always been fascinated by the idea of death. I think most children are. “If I should die before I wake …” The prospect of going to sleep and never waking up is unthinkable but compellingly fascinating. One must agree, then, with Albert Camus that the only really serious philosophical question is whether or not to commit suicide. Because this is not just a matter of going forever into a state of darkness, like being buried alive or going blind. It is not only to have no future, to pass into a state of total blankness; it is also to be as if one had never been at all, to have neither present nor past. It would be as if, not only myself, but also the whole universe had never existed. And there would be no one to miss, regret, or object to the loss. No problems at all. At least, this would be the commonsense of the matter, abandoning all ideas of personal survival as wishful thinking without basis in any reliable evidence. Most intelligent and skeptical people take this to be the way things are, realize that nothingness is inconceivable

When I ask myself the seemingly meaningless question what it is like to be nothing and never to have been, I think first of the way my own head looks to my eyes. For, going by the sense of sight alone, there is not, right behind my eyes, a dark place, or a hazy place. There is a positive sensation of nothing—which is quite different from saying that there isn’t anything, because, after all, I see out of this nothingness.

The second idea that comes to mind is that when I am dead I will be (or “it” will be) just as I was before I was born. In both states, after death and before birth, it is as if I—and all else—had never been at all. Most people, again, shrug their shoulders and say, “We come from nothing and we return to nothing—and that’s the end of it.” But I demur. For it strikes me as utterly amazing that I did in fact come from this nothing. If I came from it once, I see no reason why I could not come from it again; for if, as is indeed the case, I did come from it once, this nothingness is, to say the least, unexplainably frisky.

Now let me put together these two ideas of what nothingness is like. I try to go back and back in memory to how it was before I was born, and find a blank. I try to turn about and see what is immediately behind my eyes and also find a blank. But in both cases I have other evidence for knowing that something is there. Before I was born, there were my father and mother, the earth, the sun, moon, and stars, the galaxy, and the whole energy of the universe—and then space, another seeming blank. All this is blank because I have no memory or sensation of it as it was before I was born.

In the same way I know that behind my eyes is my invisible brain. I do not understand it or remember how I grew it, or how my father and mother grew it, and I have no direct sensation of it. Therefore it is blank. But my seeing comes out of it in just the same sort of way that my being comes out of my father and mother, and the whole universe behind them, and the space “behind” it. As my unseen brain sees with my eyes, my unremembered past (which is the still continuing world) feels with my body.

So, if I go back to the “nothing” before I was born and out of which I came, I find this very real and active universe. I have also the best evidence for believing that this same universe will be just as real and active after I am dead, for I have seen others die and then others born, and it still goes on.

Now where in all this am I to locate my self? Most of us would agree without much argument that the unseen brain is more essentially me than the eyes, since a blind person still feels that he exists. But where am I to locate my self when I consider that, just as my brain sees with my eyes, the universe feels with my body? In other words, my body and all bodies come forth from this whirl of energy as leaves come from trees and fish from the ocean and, most remarkably, stars from space.

If, then, I identify my self exclusively with my body, I separate it from the whirl of energy which “grew” me and, for that matter, is still growing me with its light, heat, air, and water. Yet if I identify my self with the whole whirl (which would be perfectly reasonable) people would say, “Who the hell do you think you are? You don’t run this universe.” To which I reply, “Who the hell do you think you are? You don’t know how your brain works. You haven’t the faintest idea how you shaped your skeleton.” It is, then, just as reasonable to say that my self is the whole whirl as to say that it is just this particular body, for I don’t consciously manage either. I don’t warm up the galaxy. I don’t design my nervous system. It happens, and I happen. My self does not manage itself as if it were something outside itself like an automobile or a typewriter. So if I don’t manage my self—if only defined as this body—there is no reason why I shouldn’t define my self as the whole universe. Considering all, the latter definition is far more reasonable.

Furthermore, it seems obvious that the universe is a system which, by means of living bodies, becomes aware of itself—up to a point. Just as there is a blank behind the eyes, and just as you can’t kiss your own lips, the universe cannot know itself completely. If it could, there would be no surprises, and that would spoil the fun. Existence would be like making love to a plastic woman.

With all this in mind, we can take a reasonable approach to the problem of death. By that I mean that we can clarify the problems without recourse to spookery—to divine revelations, to other people’s alleged psychic experiences, to spiritual teachers of questionable authority, or to any kind of unverifiable hocus-pocus. Without resorting to anything beyond what we all know; without supposing the existence of anything like an immortal soul, it can, for example, be shown that the ancient and popular idea of reincarnation is completely rational. I will not go so far as to say that I can prove it; but I can come close to that, and with better evidence than is available for many things that are taken as a matter of course.

To explain myself I will have to invent the verb “to I,” which, with a convenient pun, has the same kind of sense as “to eye”—and I will spell it that way to avoid clumsy typography. So the universe “eyes” in the same way that a tree “apples” and space “stars.” (You can always turn a noun into a verb because every thing is also an event, a happening. Houses are “housing.”)

My body, your body, everybody is the universe eyeing. Presumably to go beyond partiality and prejudice, it eyes with myriads of different bodies and keeps changing them. Variety is the spice of life. And because each body is the universe eyeing, everyone feels that he or she is “I.” Obviously, after the death of any one body, other bodies come

“into being, and in every case they have just the same experience of coming out of nothing as you and I had when we were born. So when the universe stops eyeing with my body, this body, it goes on with others, and all these others feel themselves as much “myself” as I do now.

I know, then, that after I die other bodies, other eyeings, will be born. But this is really the same thing as saying that after I die I will again awake as a baby—any baby, but only one—just as I did before but without remembering the previous trip. For anyone who argues that after death there will be nothingness forever is really saying that when he dies the universe will cease to be. But we know that it goes on after people die, and that because it does the eyeing it is really more my self than this particular body. If any apple could become fully aware it would say, “I am what the tree is doing.” Thus if the universe has eyed me once it can eye me again. For effect I have put the word “me” in that sentence; if you doubt its truth, cross it out, and the sentence will be unquestionably true. And it will mean almost the same thing—because eye = me.

But to believe in reincarnation we must show that there can be some particular connection between two distinct eyeings that do not overlap in time, as do father and son. If I talk about the universe “eyeing” me again, I am supposing that it will again produce another body, another life, so close to mine in style and character that it could be recognized as a return of Alan Watts. “Cold comfort,” you may object, “because that will still be someone else, even if your very double.” Nevertheless, I can show that there could be just as much connection between that other Alan Watts and myself as there is between myself today and myself tomorrow.

It all depends on what we mean by connection. Look at any magazine photograph with a magnifying glass. Firm and continuous lines will dissolve into disconnected dots. Or go in the other direction. From close by, our galaxy appears to be a dispersal of disconnected stars, but from far off we would see the form of a spiral nebula. There are no “strings” connecting these stars. What connects them is that they form a pattern, in the same way as the dots in the magazine photograph. Patterns are not only configurations in space but also rhythms in time and, as such, are things, forms, and events just as real and solid as anything else that we can experience. Solid steel is a pulsating gyration of electrons and positrons separated by relatively colossal spaces, and physicists cannot quite make up their minds whether they are particles or waves.

Continuous time-patterns are also revealed by fast-motion pictures of growing plants, or by speeding up the projector in a planetarium to such a pace that the planets seem to trace continuous lines across the dome. In the motion picture the plant is seen to be making a definite, formal gesture—like opening one’s hand—which is not ordinarily seen. In the planetarium the actual course or orbit of the planets becomes visible. Indeed, whatever we experience as existing, as continuing in time, is not so much persistent stuff as repetitive rhythm or vibration.

Although it would be technically impossible to show a fast-motion picture of the courses of myriads of human lives between, say, 10,000 B.C. and the present, it would not be unreasonable to think that, if it could be done, we would recognize connections of pattern between separate courses. We could see a series of lives running from 10,000 to 9,930, from 8,500 to 8,430, and from 8,300 to 8,240, in which three different individuals were tracing out a coherent pattern of behavior. At that speed they would seem just as much three appearances of one individual as someone you met successively at perhaps seven-year intervals. For the coherent continuity of any one individual is much like a whirlpool in a river; it is “there” day after day, although the water itself never stays put. You could even say that there is no such thing as a whirlpool, but that the river is whirlpooling in the same way that the universe eyes and the plant flowers.

You could argue that no such connections or continuities would exist without someone or something, like an observer or a camera, to record them. But then, to be consistent, you would have to say that the spiral pattern of a galaxy doesn’t really exist until it is observed. It would be the same argument to say that there could be no real continuity between one life and another unless it had been “photographed” on one’s memory. But this will force you into arguing that a tree in a lonely valley isn’t there until someone sees it, and if you insist on following that line of reasoning you will at last be forced to claim that you are God imagining the universe. That might be true, but it isn’t the sort of position that scientific and skeptical people want to adopt.

You might also argue that, given an observer, no such connections would be seen. This is utterly unlikely, because even among things so randomly distributed as the heavenly bodies we see galaxies, constellations, and the solar system; we find beauty in clouds and spray, and music in the sound of water. That we do so may have much to do with the structure of our senses and nerves, but they are, in turn, part of the system. It makes sense of itself in the act of eyeing, of sensing.

If you have followed me this far you will have stopped worrying about death. You will have realized that to be or not to be is not the question, because you are a repeatable act of eyeing on the part of a system, a universe, that has perfectly well been able to take care of itself for at least 10,000 million years. And considering that, by means of death, it provides itself with a periodic forgettory as well as a memory, and also that it beholds itself in such improbable forms as giraffes and toucans, you may well be assured that it (i.e., you) will never be bored.

I have been trying, then, to show the extreme likelihood of a reincarnation process without resorting to any evidence from the field of parapsychology and psychic research, in which such responsible investigators as Ian Stevenson have studied large numbers of people who claim vivid memories of former lives. (Dr. Stevenson is chairman of the Department of Neurology and Psychiatry at the University of Virginia School of Medicine and author of Twenty

Cases Suggestive of Reincarnation, published in 1966 by the American Society for Psychical Research.) To most scientists this evidence is still suspect because, for one thing, the human mind is a fertile field for hallucinations and, for another, there has been no scientifically acceptable and respectable theory to support it. But if Dr. Stevenson can establish, in one case alone, that a person remembers details of a former life which he cannot have discovered by ordinary means (and I think he has established it in more than one case), all we need is an intellectually respectable theory to account for it.

But it should be noted as an amusing aside that what is intellectually respectable is often a matter of academic fashion. When the great Austrian entomologist Von Fritsch proved beyond all doubt that bees use language, an entomologist at the University of California expressed “passionate reluctance” to accept the evidence. Why the emotional reaction? Because in much of the academic and scientific community it is a point of honor, a rubric of ritual, and a requirement of intellectual etiquette that one abstain from saying anything that might remind one’s colleagues of religion, mysticism, magic, or the supernatural—or anything to suggest that forms of life other than human are truly intelligent. Up to a point this is a healthy attitude with which I am not arguing, except to remind such academicians of their overly heavy emotional investment in maintaining it. In the meantime I prefer to play the game by their rules.

I have been explaining a theory of connection between bodies or forms that are separate in space, such as electrons and positrons or stars, or distinct in time, such as the individual pulses of a musical tone or of cosmic rays. I have also suggested that still more widely separated events, such as individual life-courses and the appearance and disappearance of stellar systems, can also be considered as pulses in a continuing rhythm or time-pattern. This is akin to the proposal of the British biophysicist Launcelot L. Whyte that the unitary principle of all systems be considered as their form (or pattern). This simple and elegant idea is extremely hard to explain to people who have had it rubbed into their minds that the world operates like a game of billiards wherein solid balls of stuff shove each other around, and must therefore be explained on the basis of Who Pushed Whom? There is nothing in the least unscientific about Whyte’s idea because forms can be measured, counted, and described, whereas pure and undifferentiated stuff is utterly inconceivable.

Right here is the main reason why any memory of former lives cannot be explained “scientifically.” For scientists—especially engineers, and even some physicists—still have it in the back of their minds (though many of them know better) that all physical processes must be inscribed and transmitted on basic stuff. It seems, then, that to explain remembrance of past lives there would have to be some sort of imperishable stuff or substance to carry the memories, like a photographic film. But that would be just exactly what was meant by the crude sense of the old-fashioned soul or spirit, which neither I nor the scientific community wants to drag in.

“If, however, we won’t allow ourselves to drag it in to explain memories of former lives, we can’t use it to explain memories of last Tuesday. There seems to be no problem about remembering last Tuesday because we have all been tacitly assuming that its events have been imprinted on the stuff of our brains and bodies. Yet there is no such stuff, just as there are no strings connecting the stars of the galaxy or electrons of the atom. Just as the physicists have never been able to detect any spiritual stuff, they have never found any material stuff. They have found measurable shapes, structures, patterns, and pulses—all with lots of space between them—but no undifferentiated goo out of which these forms are “made,” like pots from clay. If you ever did find this basic stuff, how would you talk about it? It would entirely elude formal and structural description. All along the whole notion of material stuff has been a superstition as gross as werewolves and banshees. What we really experience as stuff is nothing more than form seen out of focus, for you can’t see the detailed structure of kapok or clay until you

Thus when a scientist like Ian Stevenson finds someone who remembers a former life, what can he do except check out the story in just the same way as he would verify someone’s account of what happened last Tuesday? A small boy in Thailand, or Japan, takes us to a village where ”

he has never been, shows us the way around, and introduces us to all his old friends. So he remembers. We don’t like to admit it (we say because we can’t explain it) but the truth is that while there is some evidence for reincarnation, we have a theory against it. We don’t rule out the stars as hallucinations on the theory that light cannot pulse across empty space where there is no ether, no stuff to carry its waves. We don’t make the initial supposition that all tales are lies or fantasies until it is proved otherwise, or until we know more about the nervous system, or about the relation of mind to brain. But in a cultural situation where reincarnation has been both theologically and scientifically heretical, we are not likely to encourage or listen to little children when they speak of it.”

In sum, then, I have tried to show that reincarnation has very strong theoretical probability, without resorting to the paranormal evidence and even without being able to explain the transmission of memories. I have carefully avoided bringing in the moral and retributive arguments, since they have little force, and I do not find a person’s fortunes or misfortunes explained by a former life. I find the explanation postponed, as in all attempts to explain the present by the past. But it is basically an intellectual block to find it incredible that you have more than one life. It is just as incredible that we have this one. It is still more incredible to suppose that what has happened once cannot happen again.”

Excerpt From: Alan W. Watts. “Cloud-hidden, Whereabouts Unknown.” Apple Books.

#alan watts #reincarnation #enlightenment #buddhism #rebirth #life after death #heaven #hell #afterlife #spirituality #secret #religious studies #buddha #birth #death #life #meditation

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kaeyazuha · 2 years

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Plz I would probs hate Zhongli irl with a passion but in game I cant 😭 he just makes cackle everytime he opens up his dumb old man mouth like my mans is a boomer in a game 💀He defs is a terrible 'father' figure but tbh none of the Archons werent that great if you think about it. Venti got his ass best in 2 secs and is an alcoholic, Zhongli is...himself...and the original Dendro archon is..eh?? Like Nahida and MAYBE Raiden are the ones who are actually decent

Raiden lost her sister, had to abandon Scaramouche because of his softness and still feels guilty about it, and her one friend, Yae Miko did absolute jack shit. I feel like Sara was more of a friend to Raiden then Yae Miko was. Raiden is still trying to fix her mistakes on Inuzuma too! At least she is TRYING

Now if anyone needs a break, its Nahida! She was picked as the new Archon AGAINST HER WILL and people soon forgot about her?? While all she could do is sit back and try to her best??? Like people literally only hated on her because of skin tone, which is still an issue! But guys..SHES A FUCKING CHILD???? She is literally trying her best to be the best Archon AND not getting upset that her birthday cant be celebrated because the other Archon died??? Fucking excuse me?? I think Nahida should meet Klee and they should be best friends >:(

(I dont mind sharing my opinion on here because I feel like most of the Twitter Genshin community has left my page alone lmao)

FRR HE'S HILARIOUS it's the only reason I tolerate him- again I only hate how the fandom glorifies him, I do like him as a character haha

Honestly I love Venti bc of what he stands for. He didn't just abandon Mondstadt, he taught his people how to raise a nation and then let it run itself! "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime. " And the parallels between him and the unnamed bard sljgs delicious

FR And despite Ei being a total tyrant, she was doing what she thought was best for her country after experiencing so much loss. If nothing else, I see that in a lot of moms, so I like that ideology being used. Doing what you think is best for someone but finding out it hurts them later on, and then she's actively trying to change and improve by listening to the people :')

YES FINALLY YESSS I adore Kusanali! I do dislike her design because I'm tired of Mihoyo's colorism and creepy sexualizing (especially with the kids) but I love her character! Especially in the new archon quest, she's so sweet, considerate, and does her best to help out wherever she can. And to have the mentality of a child while doing this? She's incredible! Kusanali and Klee solo the world yes PLEASE

ooh okok that makes sense- I was more worried about spamming people haha

#if nothing else I do like how hoyo characterizes the kids #they've always done a good job making them act their age depending on trauma and circumstances #like ruu still acted like a kid- but a kid that grew up way too fast and in the spotlight #klee totally acts like a kid with abandonment issues #same goes for diona #kycasual #foxy <3

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powerfultenderness · 2 years

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Adrian “Draw me like one of your French girls” Chase

Rated: Mature

Pairing: gn!Reader/Adrian Chase

Warnings: Nudity (on Adrian’s part).

Word Count: 732

A/N: Sooo...I guess I have a thing for making Adrian strip. 🤷‍♀️

[Masterlist]

“Whoa! Are you looking at porn at work?!” Adrian practically shouted from behind you.

You jumped and spun around, caught off guard by suddenly coming face to face with Adrian, as he was leaning over your shoulder to get a better look at your screen.

“No!”

You held up your sketchpad to him. “I’m looking for art references. Uhm, of the male anatomy.” It just looked like you were googling naked men! Well...you were, but not for porn reasons!

He just stared at you like he didn’t believe you and you rolled your eyes at him, closing your search window hoping he’d drop the whole thing. “What are you even doing here?”

The office was empty, you were the only one in, not even Murn stayed in tonight.

“I was looking for Chris, he said he was here-”

“Oh yea. You just missed them. Almost everybody went to that bar Harcourt found.”

“What?” He fished his phone from his pocket, he was wearing his civilian clothes tonight, and frowned as he realized he missed a text from Chris.

“Aw. Guess I’ll meet them there. Want to come with me?”

“Nah. I’m just gonna stay in.”

He looked up from his phone with a grin, “So you can keep jerking off to porn?”

“Stop it!” You laughed and tossed your sketchbook at him. “I told you, I’m just looking for references!”

He laughed with you, at his own joke, as he caught the flying sketchpad. “Oh wow. You’re good.” He complimented as he flipped through your various sketches, pausing especially at the study of an alien butterfly.

“Thanks.” He handed you the sketchpad back, “It’s just hard to find a reference of a model that I like in a pose that I want.”

“What kind of pose do you want?”

“Uh. I dunno. I was kinda hoping it’d just be an I’ll know it when I see it, situation.”

A giant smile lit up his face as he came up with an idea. “Oh! You can draw me!”

“What?”

He was already sitting on the empty desk across from you, one leg propped up on a squeaky chair, his elbow on his knee and his chin resting on a closed fist. “Like this?”

You laughed at how silly he looked. Sure he was handsome enough to be a model, but he had the goofiest grin he couldn’t hold back. “How long do you think you can hold that pose?”

He dropped his hand as he looked up at you.

“Hmm. Good point. What about this?”

He got further up the desk and stretched out, propping his head up on one closed fist while his other arm was draped lazily over his waist.

You giggled again, accepting the fact that you were going to be sketching Adrian. “Yea sure, if you think you can hold that.”

“Yep!” But he jumped off the desk just as you opened your sketchbook and grabbed your pencil.

“Wh-aaat…?”

You were at a loss for words because Adrian had just pulled his sweater and shirt over his head at the same time, dropping them on the chair he’d just had his feet on.

He looked up at you as he toed off his shoes and unbuckled his belt, holding eye contact with you with no shame at all as he dropped his jeans and boxers at once. “You were looking for a naked model, weren’t you?”

“J-j-j. I, uh. Mean, yea. If, if, uh, if you’re cool with it.”

You were…His body… what the absolute fuck?

“Yep!” He hopped back on the desk and into his previous pose, his arm barely hiding his manhood, in fact, if you just tilted your head…Wasn’t he…? Didn’t. Didn’t Chris say…? That wasn’t! Fuuuuuck!

“Are you cool with it?”

His voice pulled your thoughts from the gutter. You looked up at his face, his big green eyes looking at you with concern as he looked like he was caught halfway between laying down and getting up.

You cleared your throat and smiled at him. “Yea! Totally what I wanted. I was just looking for a place to start. I think I got it.”

Lies, of course. But he gave you a relieved smile as he got back into his pose and rested his head on his hand. “Good!”

Oookay. You were. Definitely. Definitely going to be taking your time with this sketch.

Bonus: John or Adebayo walking in to drag the both of you to the bar, only to see a fully naked Adrian and just screaming “WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

#adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #it was supposed to be just a silly little post and it turned into this #oops

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no-psi-nan · 2 years

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The Disastrous Life of Saiki K: Extra Stories of Psychics, Volume 2

Light Novel Translated by: Corredor1230 – Juan Pablo Corredor

(Link to masterpost)

Intermission Guest Chapter 3: The Disastrous Life of Saiki Kusuo — The Regular Person

My name is Saiki Kusuo, and I’m… not an esper.

That’s right. I’m not an esper. I’m a regular person. No, what does that even mean? That almost makes it sound as if I hadn’t been a regular person until recently. That’s strange.

I’m just a person. I’ve always been one. I’m an average guy with no outstanding abilities. There’s no way I’d have any in the first place. I just felt like I could for a moment right now, for some reason. That’s embarrassing. Am I getting Middle School Syndrome? Sometimes people my age still think they’re different from others, and have some kind of special ability, but I’m sure I’ll go back to normal after I calm down and analyze my situation…

No, but I really feel like I was using some superpowers and had morphed into a girl until just recently. Is it just my imagination…? I’m a guy, there’s no way I could transform back and forth into a girl.

What does it even mean to “morph into a girl” in the first place anyways? Am I going insane…?

As I ponder that, I suddenly hear the sound of taiko and a Japanese flute.

I come back to reality, and I find myself in the middle of an Ennichi festival. There are many people around me celebrating in yukatas, as well as food stands neatly decorated with lanterns that sway back and forth.

It’s still summer. I don’t really remember how I got to this summer festival, though.

I stand all by myself surrounded by traditional sweet stands and people.

Why am I just standing still in a place like this…?

Ah, I remember now. I thought it was noisy outside, so I decided to go out and check what was going on. Good grief, how could I forget, when I just went out a few minutes ago…?

However, there’s something off. I can feel there’s something amiss, but I don’t know what it is. I keep wondering about it, as I look at the lanterns shining in the dark night sky.

Just what’s this indescribable sense of loss…? Maybe it’s just puberty?

I feel like I just lost something very dear to me, and I forgot about it…

At the same time, I also feel an intense sense of deja-vu. Why? I feel like I’ve been to this festival before. Did I… Did I see anyone at this festival? I don’t think I came here to meet up with anyone in particular, but I get the feeling that I just bumped into them somehow. However, that makes no sense. I’m always alone. I don’t have any close friends. Who could that mysterious someone be? This is bad. Am I getting a full-fledged case of Middle School Syndrome? I’m talking about some imaginary friends now? Why do my memories feel so vague? Did I bump my head or something…?

Among the crowd I see couples, students, but they all walk right past me. Everyone is smiling and having fun. That’s right. What was I even thinking? Why am I worrying about something like that in a fun place like this?

I’m here already. Might as well have some fun after all.

I look at the stands, and start walking.

I can smell the scent of oil and fried foods. There’s a stand that sells fried corn. There’s also a grilled steak and yakisoba stand nearby. Sausages, squid, takoyaki and fried potatoes stands as well.

There are so many options, I don’t think I will ever get sick of eating all these. I don’t even know what I should get.

That’s right, maybe I should try a shooting game or something instead of eating right now. Or maybe I’ll try to get a fortune.

These types of games are where the real fun is in an Ennichi Festival. There’s also goldfish catching and balloon catching, and of course fishing as well. I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to enjoy any of these if I had superpowers.

When I was little, I remember my parents took me to a festival, and I used my powers at every one of these without holding back. Thinking back on it, I gave the shopkeepers a hard time. I’m sure by now I can control my powers much better and perhaps just use half my total strength when playing…

No, wait, I’m not an esper. Why am I thinking about that?

However, I do remember catching every single goldfish they had… What even are these memories? Maybe I’m just embellishing them since I was pretty young back then. I’m sure I’m not the only one who does that, and I know there are also some people who have trouble telling dreams and reality apart sometimes.

However, I’m extremely average in every way. There’s no way I’d ever be a master at catching goldfish or anything like that. It��s especially unlikely I would manage to capture every single fish they had.

In that case I must’ve made up these memories at some point in my life…

But I do remember even the shopkeeper’s expression when I caught every single goldfish. It feels so vivid, it’s hard to think I actually made it up…

Everything feels hazy inside my head.

I guess it was a long time ago. It’s not surprising the memories would be pretty vague.

More importantly, I should be enjoying the festival. Maybe I should get something to eat.

I look around the different stands, trying to figure out what I’m going to get. The colorful yukatas from the other shoppers around me catch my eye. Maybe I should’ve worn a yukata as well after all…

I suddenly think about that.

A shirt and denim pants… That’s a pretty bland outfit, come to think about it. Maybe a yukata and some sandals would’ve been better. Walking around the festival being followed by the clacking sound of the sandals would be more appropriate. I could even get myself a Kitsune mask. That traditional Japanese style is particularly good. And accompanying everything with a goldfish in a plastic bag would be just perfect. That’s my ideal summer festival style. Especially since it’s Ennichi already. It’s definitely not bad at all.

But I guess going back home and changing my clothes right now would be a bother… If only I could teleport, I wouldn’t be worrying about something so trivial. Though I still have to wait three minutes before teleporting again, so I wouldn’t be able to come back immediately afterwards. That’s right, if only I were an esper, I could change my clothes freely whenever I pleased. Wait, can I just quit it with the esper thing already?!

What’s going on…? Why do I keep coming back to the esper thing? What’s with that “three minute rule” anyway? Isn’t it far too specific to come up with debuffs for imaginary powers that I just came up with? Give me a break. At this rate I’m going to end up writing this “Dark History Notebook” in a few years, with all sorts of esper scenarios.

I turn my head, still thinking about the superpower thing. I start looking for some candy stands, so I can at least get the sour taste out of my mouth. Eating sweets outside isn’t bad either.

I see a few children walking around with cotton candy in their hands. That’s pretty standard for a summer festival. However, I guess the most standard option would be a cold ramune. There’s also a bakery… Oh! And they’re selling baby castellas! That’s not bad at all!

But maybe I should get the chocolate banana first… No, no, a sweet apple! A banana covered in chocolate and colorful toppings and a sweet apple dripping in caramel.

I don’t even know where to find either of those, though… What do I do?

I know! I’ll go buy both of them anyway! I’ll sure have fun with one in each hand.

Alright, the apples cost 300 yen each. I feel like they’re trying to scam me here with those prices, but I guess it’s fine. I take out my wallet and… and… Where’s my wallet? Did I drop it?

I look around my feet, but it’s nowhere to be found. And then—

"I don’t have my wallet!! Someone stole it!!" someone nearby shouts.

Several people check their own pockets and realize their wallets are missing as well, which causes quite a commotion.

What a disaster… I can’t believe they got me too…

I can’t buy any apples without my wallet. And not only that, I can’t buy any chocolate bananas or baby castellas either. I can’t even buy next week’s Shonen Jump issue. I think that’s about how much I had inside my wallet. Who would be so cruel to steal other people’s money…?

I just stand in place, feeling incredibly frustrated.

I can’t do anything. I’m just a powerless background character.

If only I could use my superpowers…

If only I could do that, stupid incidents like this wouldn’t keep happening. I don’t want to keep thinking about this stuff, but I can’t stop thinking about this fantasy, for some reason.

There’s a version of me inside my head that does have superpowers.

That’s right, if only I did, I could catch whoever stole my money. Though I guess I still wouldn’t be able to find them, since their thoughts would blend in with the rest of the crowd and I wouldn’t be able to pick them up with my telepathy. That’s why I should just find an abandoned bike or something, repair it until it has a value equal to my wallet, and then exchange them. That way I would get my wallet back in a second. That would settle the score for me, but we still shouldn’t let criminals like that on the loose. We can’t have people stealing others’ wallets and ruining a fun time. If I could use my clairvoyance, I would find the culprits by looking for the bike that I’d exchange for my wallet. I would go to them, and return the wallets to the people they stole them from. However, I’m sure the culprits are no weaklings either. They probably have knives and they’d threaten me with them. As if a simple knife could hurt a real esper. In the blink of a second I would make them lose consciousness, tie them up, and call the police. I could return the wallets to the victims using my psychometry. Espers are able to do things like that without breaking a sweat. That way the entire problem would be resolved, and everyone could go back to enjoying the festival…

I can’t believe I’ve been pondering something like that so seriously in silence.

That could never happen in reality, of course.

I know that. I know that better than anyone else. No matter how much I wish it happened, reality will never be like my daydreams. I’m not an esper.

That’s why I’m sure I’ll never get those wallets back. I can’t find the culprits either. And even if I did, I’m sure I couldn’t do it right now. And even if our police force was completely excellent, they wouldn’t be able to capture them in an instant like an esper could. I'll keep enjoying the festival to the best of my ability, ultimately be unable to buy anything, and go back home.

That’s reality, after all. Espers are nothing more than fantasy… There’s no espers around to help other people when things like these happen.

I really feel like an idiot. For a second I even thought that espers could be real…

“Wait! What are you doing, you bastard?! Give me back that wallet!”

I turn around to see whose voice that is. Two men are struggling nearby. One of them is a tough big guy wearing a Hawaiian shirt, and he’s taking a wallet away from a guy wearing a cap. What’s that? Is that a scene of crime? I stare in silence as the man with the cap hurries off in a panic. However, he’s pushed down by a nearby officer.

Ah, he was the culprit.

Several wallets come out of the man’s clothes, all the way down to his shoes. I thought the guy in the Hawaiian shirt was the culprit, but it seems like he was getting his stolen wallet back.

Among the pile of stolen wallets, I can see mine. A crowd starts gathering at the scene…

“Here you go.”

I get my wallet back. I almost fall to the ground, surprised at the sudden interaction. I rapidly cling on to it. Why is this wallet that I was so sure had gotten stolen suddenly in front of me…?

“I saw him take your wallet, so I took it back,” says the man in the Hawaiian shirt, pointing his finger at the man getting arrested by the police.

No way… does he mean he purposefully put himself in danger and chased the culprit just to get back my wallet…? Why would someone go that far for me…?

I take a look at this man. He’s tall, well built, and his Hawaiian shirt looks good on him. However, I can’t get a good look at his face. My sight is a little blurry. His face is darkened by what looks like dark ink, and I can’t make it out. There are so many lanterns around us, and lights from the stands. It’s so bright, it could be noon. So why can’t I see his face? What’s going on…?

“You should really check its contents. He might have taken everything out,” the man says with a grin.

I stay quiet. No, I can’t see his face, so there’s no way I’d know he’s smiling at all. I just got the feeling that he was.

I open the wallet and check its contents just like he said. The cash and cards are all inside. That’s good.

“Are you okay? Good to hear! Huh? Wait a second, where’s my wallet…?”

Did he steal yours too?

The officers already arrested him. I guess they confiscated your wallet as well.

“Well, I guess it can’t be helped. I already ate some takoyaki, and at least I got this wallet back, so I guess it’s all good. Oh, right, listen! The takoyaki didn’t have any octopus inside! Five out of six didn’t have any octopus at all. And the last one only had a tiny and chewy piece. It was awful. I guess they forgot the 'tako' and only gave me the 'yaki'."

What’s with this guy? He just won’t shut up. Besides, did he just say that it was all good? Just how unlucky is he?! Did he draw the worst fortune today?

“Oh? That’s right, there’s something I want to show you.”

Why is this man acting so friendly toward me? He doesn’t even know me, so why is he having so much fun talking to me? Of course I’m thankful he got my wallet back, but he sure is acting too friendly.

“What are you doing? Come on, let’s go!”

The man grabs me by the arm. For some reason, instead of feeling surprised, I feel somewhat nostalgic. He carries me away, and I’m just completely speechless.

Just who is this guy? I wonder as I look at his back.

No matter how hard I think about it, I can’t even remember his name. I can’t remember his face either. Maybe I’ve just never met him before. This must be the first time I’ve seen him. I guess that’s the only explanation I can come up with.

That’s right, I don’t know this guy. There’s no way someone would be so close to me anyway.

I’ve been living all alone my whole life, after all. I’m used to solitude. If anything, I prefer it. It’s better if an average guy like me lives without standing out. I’ve been like that ever since I was young.

I can’t handle crowds. I get tired easily whenever there’s many people around. One of the main reasons why I don’t walk in crowded areas is that I might physically bump into others. However, for some reason, I don’t dislike festivals, but most of my life is spent at home or at school. I don’t walk home from school with any friends either, and I prefer to avoid ramen places by myself. I guess you could say I’m a timid person.

I suddenly think of something… I feel like there was someone who also used to drag me around like this. Someone who lived an easygoing life, and couldn’t read a room. Someone that used to butt into my lonely life and drag me around. I’ve thought that having someone like that around would be pretty fun. But that’s just an idea. I’m always by myself, in the end. I’m not the type to hang out with other people, and my ideas aren’t reality. That’s how it’s always been.

However…

Right now I’m running around while this nameless, faceless person is dragging me along with him. We keep moving forward through the crowd. The lanterns light the way, and the shops on the sides feel like streetlights.

Am I dreaming? Is this even real?

We walk past the stands, and it suddenly gets darker. Next we start walking up the shrine’s stairs. The crowds and the sweets all seem very distant.

I’m already out of breath, since we started running all of a sudden. An indoor type like me isn’t really used to physical activity, unlike the man in front of me.

However, despite being panting already, I still keep up with him. I have to. I don’t know why, but that’s what I think. I cannot let this man go.

“We’ll be there soon!”

The man says as he turns around. His face is so dark, I can’t see it. The darkness around here doesn’t help, although I don’t think I know his face in the first place. I find myself thinking back on my superpowers while we’re still running.

Maybe if I could shoot fireworks, I could light up the night sky and see his face…

But still, no matter how much I think about it, having superpowers definitely sounds like a delusion…

I hear a loud bang, and a ring of colorful lights spreads through the sky. Everything turns bright for an instant.

No way.

“Eh?! I thought the fireworks started an hour later?!” the man says, surprised. “Damn it, run!”

One after another, the fireworks keep illuminating the night sky.

I look at them in awe. He keeps dragging me with him, but I can only look at the sky. Was that a coincidence…? No, no way. That was…

“Here we are! What do you think? This is my special seat!”

We run past a small forest near the temple, until the man finally comes to a halt. You can see the wide sky being illuminated by the fireworks from here. There’s not a soul around. This definitely is a “special seat”.

“The fireworks look awesome from here!” the man says, and then laughs violently. You’d think he was a rocket about to take off from his laugh. However, I’m feeling a little confused.

How long has it been since I’ve run this much? I’m bad at sports. My heart is racing and my lungs are desperate for air. I might not even make it to the end of the fireworks show.

I’ve never been this tired… tired? I’m… not tired…

My body doesn’t feel tired in the slightest. In fact, I feel perfectly fine. I’m breathing normally as well.

Summer nights are still a little warm. However, I’m not sweating at all. In fact, I might start sweating just because of how strange that is.

It truly is strange. I feel like I might be able to do anything right now.

“Fireworks are fun, right? Everyone just looks at the sky…” the man says absentmindedly as he looks up.

“Every year, whenever I look at the fireworks… I think that I should try to live more like fireworks. That’s the kinda man I’d like to be…”

What’s he even talking about? Does he mean he wants to live for a second and then die?

And then I get a strange feeling.

…What is this? Deja-vu? I feel like this happened before…

The fireworks explode, and then the sky turns dark. I can’t see the man’s face even though he’s standing right next to me. I can’t see him.

I try to look at the tall man’s face, and right then, a colorful explosion lights up the sky.

“Don’t you think so, partner?”

Right at that instant, I can see the man’s face thanks to the fireworks.

All of a sudden, I hear many people’s voices. I’m not going crazy.

This all feels incredibly natural. I can hear the thoughts of all the people attending the festival. I can hear one after the other, almost as if they were a fire spreading from one leaf to the next. That fire is like a light that surrounds me.

As we’re enveloped by the sound and light of the fireworks, every single person is looking up at the sky. No one is looking down. Fun, happiness, beauty… countless positive emotions flow into me like the fireworks, one after the other. I’m inundated by kind thoughts.

The only voice I can’t hear is that of the man standing beside me, just like always.

I can’t read his mind, even though I’m an esper. Because he’s an idiot.

However, it doesn’t matter if the world around me is real or just a dream. It doesn’t matter if I’m just a regular guy. You’ll still always call me your “partner”...

Nendo.

#extra stories of psychics #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.#sknpn

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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I’m a big believer that Dick’s independence and self-reliance isn’t in any way rooted in him just being stubborn, prideful or self-destructive. I view it as being in his eyes a necessity….because on a deep, fundamental level….Dick doesn’t trust anything to be permanent.

I’ll always go back to the fact that his character archetype isn’t that of the everyman, because he was of lower class origins compared to Bruce’s extreme upper class background.....but rather that given that Dick Grayson was allegedly exceptional from his debut, a child prodigy capable of feats of acrobatics few in the world could match....he could never actually be classified as an everyman. Rather, his core archetype is that of the fish out of water. The individual taken from the comforts of his original pond and thrust into a limelight of an entirely different nature from the one he grew up in, with the two not at all being interchangeable, and necessitating he change and adapt in dramatic and often unanticipated ways just to keep his footing in his new environs.

Its not incidental that his initial tragedy wasn’t JUST the loss of his parents, but rather the loss of his old routines, extended family, environment, way of life, expectations for the way his future would play out....it ALL vanished on the same night, never to return again. The loss of his parents was tragedy enough all on its own, but its really only one part of what Dick lost that night. He lost his entire footing. His frames of reference. Everything his life had previously prepared him for and everything he could have used as a familiar comfort or source of stability to lean on, if it had been ‘just’ his parents that he lost.

And I fundamentally don’t believe you ever get over THAT loss, no matter what peace you make with the loss of your loved ones or specific elements of that. Once you’ve experienced a shake-up of that size, once you have a bone-deep, visceral awareness of how completely your life can change in the blink of an eye, how you can effectively be set back to zero as though nothing you’ve previously accomplished matters (remember, he went from a kid whose name drew crowds on its OWN merits, based on what HE was capable of due to his own work and skills, the youngest of the Flying Graysons, capable of an acrobatic feat barely anyone else in the world could master......to being a kid who was only ever identified as in the context of Bruce Wayne having taken him in, as though his existence and worth were defined by someone else’s act of compassion rather than based on anything he’d ever done on his own, when the fact of the matter is even by age eight, he’d already accomplished a LOT)....

Like, the point is, you can’t go through a shake-up like that and ever fully FORGET how complete and total a change it was, how big a rewrite of your entire life story.

That’s a trauma all its own, one that goes largely unacknowledged, and one that I don’t think Bruce and Alfred or anyone else fully realized was even there TO need addressing in the first place. So of course how could they ever fully address it, without realizing a need?

And I think Dick’s constant moves and self-reliance are actually born of that primal awareness that there are no guarantees, that nothing is truly permanent, that anything can be taken away in an instant.

He’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to be taken away again - as people have pointed out in other posts, Dick can never seem to have nice things. Even the apartment building he lived in while in Bludhaven….that wasn’t some height of luxury by ANY stretch of the imagination…was lost to him, along with all the friends and neighbors and community he’d built among them, something evidenced by how highly they all spoke of him, even to a total stranger. And that’s not even getting into how even the CITY he sought to establish himself as a guardian over, like, he lost the city itself. The CITY!

Dick, I believe, insists on holding down 9-5 jobs and paying his own way and only touching money that comes from Bruce originally, when like…he has no other option or its to help someone else….just like he’s resistant to ever fully putting down roots, at least none so deep that he can’t uproot himself and quickly relocate without ripping off a piece of himself and leaving it still buried in the ground behind him.

Because deep down, he’s always bracing for the next seismic event that’ll rip everything away from him, and he wants to be prepared. He WANTS to make sure he never takes anything for granted. That if he loses it all - hell, if he and Bruce fight again and Bruce decides once and for all to take it all away from Dick, cut their ties, something that would very much be a deep-rooted insecurity for a kid with as massive of abandonment issues as Dick must have given his childhood and a number of events after that…

Dick I think needs to trust that he’ll be capable of surviving, of standing on his own two feet, if the worst should ever happen again and he’s left on his own again. His self-reliance and obsessive need for independence aren’t a REJECTION of anyone else or anything Bruce or others have ever done for him.

They’re simply the defense mechanisms of a boy who was once upon a time torn away from everything he knew and in certain origins was then on top of that plunged into hellish circumstances before finding a refuge with Bruce….

And the man that boy grew up to be, who is determined to never be caught in a situation like that again, where his very survival might otherwise require the kindness of a stranger….with Dick knowing better than to count on lightning striking twice there, and him getting lucky a second time.

So in a lot of ways, my core perception of Dick having spent more time growing up in the luxury of Wayne Manor than any of the other kids is that its largely irrelevant to who he grew up to be. Because he was still more than old enough by the time he arrived that he had formative experiences all his own that no amount of time was sufficient to overwrite and exchange for new ones.

His experiences are so extreme in terms of the loss of all forms of stability, that the SHAPE that stability takes in the periods where his life IS stable, is largely unimportant. Because its the absence of stability that’s the defining recurrence in his life. Even the stability offered by his childhood in Wayne Manor eventually gave way to canon where he left the Manor before he was even eighteen, as well as canon where no matter how it was ultimately reversed, he was for a time affected by having the ability to call the Manor his home STRIPPED AWAY FROM HIM. Thus even when Bruce did ultimately welcome him back, there still retained an awareness that even the fact that this had happened in the first place was a reminder that even THIS was something Dick could lose, that no matter how stable his childhood there had been at times, it couldn’t in and of itself be COUNTED as a source of stability due to the simple fact that his ability to call it his home HADN’T turned out to be an irrevocable constant.

And so this is another of those areas where I think its fundamentally an oversight to have members of the family commenting on Dick’s self-reliance or tendencies to relocate himself, let alone in any kind of critical capacity......

If there’s not going to be an acknowledgment within the family or by the people raising these criticisms like, what kind of a role the family themselves have played in Dick feeling a NEED to have these tendencies in the first place.

If someone doesn’t trust in any place he lives in to ever truly be a constant in his life, truly permanent, that anything can be taken away in the right circumstances....and you yourself have done something that has made him feel or given him reason TO leave a place he’s found stability in at some point in the past....you kiiiiiinda forsake your right to be critical of his inability to see any place as permanent or constant, y’know?

Like, insert Miranda Whatshername gif or Meryl Streep peering down her glasses and going oh I see, you think this has nothing to do with you.

So I’d argue that Dick’s insistence on simulating the average person’s reality of livelihood, even when he has other means and funds available to him….just as his insistence on being as solely responsible for the well-being of the place or people he sees as his responsibilities, being single-minded about relying only on himself for tasks that he sees as ultimately having nothing to do with someone other than himself, etc....

All that is in my opinion BECAUSE he’s so firmly attached to the reality that anything and everything can be taken away, at ANY given moment. That he can be reduced to having nothing and no one he can depend on BEYOND just his own innate skills and experiences, the only things he trusts to be truly unable to be stripped from him by others.

If you ask me, one of the core aspects of Dick’s characterization throughout his adulthood in canon is SPECIFICALLY his fear that everything he cares about, or trusts, or relies on…can be taken away from him or lost.

And his determination to make sure that he’ll be able to survive even if that should ever happen again.

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yourtamaki · 3 years

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the wanderer’s lodestone

dabi x f!reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: violence, detail of injury, murder, morally grey reader, dry humping, mutual masturbation, oral (m receiving), angst ending

if there was one thing dabi has learned over the years, it was that people always fell in one of two categories. there were those who would meet his gaze and those who avoided it. he’s not sure which is worse. the brave ones and their wide eyes, always staring at his marred skin with such sick fascination it made his palms itch in the worst way. or the spineless bastards whose eyes stayed glued to the ground when he walked past only to gawk at him like a sideshow freak when they thought he wasn’t looking.

two sides of the same judgemental coin, all part of the same corrupt society that preaches love until someone doesn’t fit their mold. it was getting harder to differentiate between them and at some point he stopped trying all together. what did it matter if he couldn’t remember how it felt to be regarded like a human being? he didn’t need to be human to carry out his vengeance, he only needed to be alive.

that changed when he met you.

it wasn’t his cleanest break-in but he couldn’t care less, too busy focused on not passing out from blood loss. it was shit luck that the alley he had chosen to rest in was part of a new hero’s patrol route. the kid was clearly scared out of his mind when he realized dabi wasn’t just another thug on the streets, his pale face illuminated in the night by blue flame. it was a shame, for a rookie the kid had talent with his dagger quirk, being able to throw and call them back at will, even change their trajectory midair. he could’ve made it far in the ranks.

dabi wondered if they’d bury him with his daggers, scorched bones and all.

it wasn’t his problem anymore. all he cared about was finding something clean to wrap the nasty cut on his abdomen. there was no special reason he chose your bedroom window to climb through. it was the first apartment with a fire escape he stumbled upon just far enough away from the ashes of the pro hero that he wouldn’t have to worry about being followed. your dim window was the first he reached and it didn’t take much effort to jam a knife between the glass and the lock to force it open. he thought the place might be empty for the night when he stepped inside and heard no signs of life. he got to work tearing the bedsheets in long strips and was nearly done when you walked in.

there were people who met his gaze and there were people who avoided it. you were neither.

you saw him.

even in near darkness, your eyes found his and didn’t flinch at the monster that stared back. the room stayed silent as you seized each other up save the drops of blood that slipped past where he held his wound shut and splattered on the floor.

“could you not rip my sheets up?”

your voice was enough to startle him from his initial shock, twirling the knife once before going back to cutting up the fabric. “i need them more than you do. i’ll be gone in a minute, scream and i’ll kill you.”

you scoffed but didn't reply, walking across the room and flipping the light on in a bathroom he hadn’t seen earlier. a wave of irritation washed over him as he watched you rummage through drawers. who would turn their back to someone who broke into their home? did you have no self preservation?

you walked back, tossing several things onto the bed before making your way back deeper into the apartment. “close the window on your way out.”

and with that you’re gone. a part of him wanted to chase you, to tie up the loose end but the memory of your eyes kept him frozen in place. the thought of those same eyes looking at him with fear made his gut twist and he didn’t understand why. he grabbed whatever you tossed at him, the few strips he’d managed to make and left the way he came. it’s not until he’s found an empty alley to rest in did he inspect the items. ace bandages, an entire bottle of hydrogen peroxide, fish wire and a sewing needle.

your kindness tasted like pity and acid. he couldn’t convince himself to spit it out even as it burned a hole straight through his tongue.

dabi hated you and he etched that hatred into his skin, stitch by painful stitch. hated you for reminding him that he had yet to purge the weakness from his soul. the same weakness that forced him to walk past your apartment over the next few weeks. it was stupid to stick around in the city for so long, especially after killing that hero. he told himself it was to make sure you’d upped your security since he’d tumbled into your home but it sounded the excuse rang hollow with no one to hear the lie.

it became such a mindless part of his routine it took him a moment to realize one night that your window had been shattered open. his throat tightened almost painfully, your eyes flashed in his mind and he was flying up the fire escape a moment later.

a lean figure was pulling open drawers when the sound of dabi stepping on broken glass made him whip around. it’s a pain, not being able to turn the man into fuel for his ever hungry flames but he didn’t think you’d appreciate him saving your house just to burn it down.

the man’s movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, taking desperate swings that left him wide open for dabi to sneak under his defences. he’d just managed to grapple the intruder into a chokehold when the bedroom door creaked open and both men’s attention snapped to you.

“you done yet?” you asked and dabi had to force himself to speak under the full weight of your gaze.

“were you here the whole time?” you nodded, acting far too casual for his liking. “why the fuck didn’t call the cops or something?”

“i figured you’d show up.” you cocked your head at the incredulous look he threw you. “what, you thought i didn’t notice you coming around all the time?”

he clicked his teeth in annoyance. “well, what do you want to do with him then, sweetheart?”

it was a test and it was clear you knew it, glancing down at the intruder that had started weakly clawing at his arm. dabi would kill the man regardless of what you said but your answer would speak volumes on where you stood in this society rotted by false gods.

“i don’t care what you do, just dump the body far from here.” you didn’t blink once as you sentenced the man to death, didn’t blink as dabi shifted his hold and the echo of a snapped neck rang out in the room. you held steady and a begrudging respect rose up in him.

he heaved the man over his shoulder, being mindful to keep the head hidden from your line of sight. you’d already passed his test, there was no need for you to see it any longer then he’d already made you. he just had to know if you were putting on a front or not. if you were, it would’ve been all the more likely for you to put in a tip about a certain villain that lurked around your neighbourhood.

but instead you had held his gaze, didn’t look at him any differently and dabi didn’t want to know why he felt so relieved for it.

he honoured your request, carrying the body through back alleys and shadows to the very edge of the city. his thoughts wandered, as they always seemed to where you’re considered, wondering how soon he could see you again while he watched the flames climb high into the night sky.

“a tarp? seriously?” he’d lasted two full nights before his feet led him back to your fire escape and the brand new thick tarp that covered the missing window. you were in bed this time, reading a book the title of which he couldn’t make out with the dim light from your bedside lamp, not even bothering to look his way as he made himself comfortable on the window sill.

“shitty landlord is taking his sweet time replacing the glass so yeah. tarp.”

“you should move. i hear there’s a lot of break-ins going on around here.” he didn’t like how much your huff of laughter to his poor attempt at humour felt like a reward.

“not all of us can afford to live in the hero sectors, you know?”

the venom in your voice when you mentioned the hero sector caught him off guard. they’re one of the more subtle forms of corruption present in all cities with a hero presence. living in the hero sectors ensures one’s total safety from any threat. from robberies to natural disasters, a hero’s priority is focused on the rich who can afford the protection. no hero will ever admit to it, though. on paper, the sectors don’t exist. and yet the heroes flock to the same handful of neighbourhoods the moment a threat occurs. another underhand tactic to keep the poor in their place and the rich comfortable.

you’ve become that much more interesting in his eyes.

“so, you here to bleed all over my sheets again or what?”

dabi scoffed, “no, but i was hoping you could take these stitches out and we’ll call it even for saving your ass.” he could rip them out himself but where was the fun in that?

“yeah right. who saved who first?” despite your grumbling you waved dabi over, gesturing for him to sit on the bed while you went off to grab supplies from the bathroom.

he expected you to pull up a chair once you returned but instead you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him onto his back. it took all his concentration not to flinch when you straddled him, your hand trailing under his shirt, fingertips grazing his burnt flesh as you pulled his shirt up, bundling the material and forcing it into his mouth.

“you might wanna bite down on that, i’m all out of painkillers.”

there was a gentleness in how you cut the stitches from his body, how you took care to dab an alcohol soaked cotton pad over each one. it made his chest go tight, unable to recall ever being this close to someone and not walking away with new scars.

dabi found himself lulled into a trance by the rhythm of your hands, a trance that shattered as your fingertips strayed from the path of the cut, following the rows upon rows of staples that held him together instead. he watched your face closely, waiting for the disgust and horror to swim to the surface but your eyes kept the steadiness they always seemed to have.

“does it hurt?” you whispered.

he wanted to tell you that it didn’t hurt, not in the way you thought it did. that the nerves beneath his burnt and darkened flesh had died long ago and he couldn’t even feel the patterns you were now tracing on his stomach. it’s the unblemished skin that hurts, that always hurts. the parts of him that still cling to life.

the human brain processes pain differently than any other stimulation it feels. pain never dulls, never vanishes no matter how long it lasts. every waking moment, his own mind tortures him with fresh waves of pain and never lets him forget the countless staples that pierce his flesh and tear him open everytime he moves.

there’s so much he could tell you but the words refused to come out, burning up in his throat and leaving him choking on the ash.

you didn’t push when no answer came, prying his shirt from his clenched teeth and pulling it back into place. “you’re good to go, stranger.”

his hands that had been clenched by his sides twitched when you started to move away from him and judging by the tilt of your head, it didn’t escape your notice. you settled back over him and this time he couldn’t stop his hands from gripping onto your waist, trying to stop you from shifting.

“stop that.” he said through gritted teeth.

you gave another roll of your hips and smirked when his fingers dug deeper into your sides, “stop what?”

“you’re a fucking menace, you know that?”

“yeah. but you like it.”

he hated that you were right. but he’d be damned if he gave you the satisfaction of seeing him lose it from a little grinding. he used his hold on you to push you back slightly, spreading his legs even further until you were straddling his thigh instead. syrupy smugness filled his veins seeing you flustered for the first time since he’s met you.

“go on, don’t get shy on me now.” you were quick to shake off any reservations, growling at his teasing tone and grinding down on his thigh with a desperation that sent a thrill down his spine. “just like that, make yourself feel good.”

he couldn’t wrap his head around how right this felt. there should have been a moment of hesitation from either of you as you walked hand in hand over a line you’d have no way of crossing back over but instead you melted into each other, all his senses heightened and flooded with you, you, you.

he was so focused on memorizing every minute expression that crossed your face he didn’t realize you were asking for help until you moved his hands from your waist to your ass. he was more than happy to take over, setting a brutal pace that had you crying out, bunching his shirt up in your fists to try to stay grounded.

“c’mon baby, let go.”

you cum with a strangled cry and he can feel every pulse and clench of your cunt through the layers that separated you. your whole body shook in his arms as he helped you ride out your high before you collapsed on top of him, your head buried in the crook of his neck. he let your hands wander up and down his sides but grabbed hold of your wrists when they started to make their way between his legs.

he was about to tell you to forget about it, to not worry about the ache that sat heavy and hard in his jeans but the pout on your face when you looked up made him freeze.

“can i?” you asked, so close your warm breath fanned his face.

“you don’t- i didn’t…” he didn’t want you to think that this is all he’d wanted from you, that this wasn’t why he was compelled to return to you over and over. you seemed to understand his silent struggle, gracing him with a small smile.

“i know. i want to.” any hesitation vanished at the challenging look you gave him while you freed his cock from its restraints. you held your palm out to him and dabi spat into it, never breaking eye contact as you do the same and wrapped your hand around him, coating his length in the mixture of you. you took as much care touching him as you did cutting his stitches, careful and sure with each stroke, sweeping a thumb over his sensitive tip to gather the precum that leaked like a faucet.

as you worked his cock, he grabbed your leg that had fallen between his and pulled it up until your thighs were spread over his own. he couldn’t help the low groan that escaped him when he slid a hand into pants and past your panties and felt just how wet you were, sinking two fingers inside you just to hear you whine from the stretch.

it wasn’t the best angle but dabi made it work, crooking his fingers and letting his rough palm slap against your clit with each thrust. when your eyes started to roll back into your head, he used his free hand to grab the back of your neck, pressing your forehead to his and making sure your vision was filled with nothing but him.

“keep your eyes on me, don’t fucking close ‘em.” your mouth fell open as you nod, somehow keeping your pace steady even as he felt your walls fluttered around him. “show me that pretty face you make when you cum, sweetheart, i wanna see it again.”

“‘m cumming ‘m cumming oh fuck- ! ” you gasped as your orgasm hit you. he moaned right alongside you as you squeezed just underneath his blunt tip in a sudden death grip, the pain-laced pleasure was almost enough to push him over the edge.

you dropped to your knees quickly as you felt his cock twitch in your hand, popping the head into your mouth and rolling his heavy balls in your hand. the sudden sensation of your wet, hot tongue pressing at his slit had him shooting rope after rope of cum down your throat and his head spun when you swallowed every drop and showed him your empty mouth.

dabi pounced, tackling you to the ground, cradling your head before it could hit the floor and crashing his lips onto yours so hard he already knew he’d have to give a gruff apology when they ended up bruised. he chased the bitter taste of himself that lingered on your tongue and shivered when your tongue ran across his scarred bottom lip and you didn’t recoil at what you felt. frantic, rough kisses melted away into a lazy make out that banished all but one thought from his mind.

he could get used to this. he wanted to get used to this.

“hey,” your voice pulled him back down to earth, something soft glimmering behind your eyes and dabi didn’t want to look away until he figured out what it was. “i wanna show you something.”

you wiggled out from beneath him, making your way to the window and pushing the heavy tarp out of the way before stepping onto the fire escape.

following you up the winding stairs felt natural, like he was born to witness the small smile you threw over your shoulder to make sure he was keeping up.

the view at the top was underwhelming. too many buildings pressed too close together, all the exact same height as the one you two stood on stretching as far as the eye could see to create the most painfully ordinary view he’d ever seen. but it was quiet. the roar of the streets below couldn’t be heard at all and dabi hadn’t realized how loud it all was until deafening silence took its place. and it was cold. cold enough that he couldn’t tell if the ache in his lungs was from the freezing air or the hazy memory of white hair that floated through his mind.

it was the closest thing to peace he could remember feeling in years.

“you like it?” you were watching him closely, hopping from foot to foot and he didn’t know what possessed you to come out wearing only your flimsy sleepwear. you seemed proud of the little hidden treasure you found and something stirred in his chest thinking about how you chose to share it with him.

“‘s nice.” he said, reaching out to cover both your hands in his and using just enough of his ever burning flame to warm you both. he found himself waiting once more for the sudden twist of revulsion in your features, for you to jerk away from his touch but you sighed in contentment as heat seeped back into your fingertips. you brought his hands up to your face, making him cup your cold cheeks and closing your eyes to savour the warmth.

it was as you nuzzled into his palm that dabi realized exactly how dangerous you were to each other. undeserved kindness and crooked smiles and sharing secrets. he hadn’t earned any of these things and yet you handed them to him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

and he’ll take them. because that was the nature of the fire he had been cursed with. it takes and takes and takes and you’ll be left with nothing to show for it but the grey ash of your generous heart. and in return you’d lull him with the false belief that he is more than the hatred that flows through his veins, that there was still a person buried under the mountain of rage he carried inside him. he doesn’t think he could survive without it but you would make him believe that he could.

he’d destroy you. you’d ruin him.

this, whatever this was that was growing between you was doomed to end before it had even started. he should leave you on this rooftop, leave the whole damn city and forget whatever you had tried to awaken in him. but dabi could never resist the call of destruction, would always want to know exactly how hot and how bright things could burn. what did love look like when it’s been bathed in flames?

dabi pulled you closer, determined to find out.

dedicated to: @saintdabi

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #dabi imagine #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #bnha imagine #mha imagine

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