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hyperfixation-symposium · 1 year

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I don't feel like q!bad gets enough praise for being such a good dad.

Like, he's encouraging of Dapper's special interests even if they're dangerous and often end up with him at least slightly hurt. He's incredibly respectful of Dapper's independence while also being a caring and attentive father. If they're going to be out and about together, he almost always takes Dapper's input on where they go and what they do.

He knows Dapper is talented player, who knows more than he does sometimes, while still recognizing when Dapper forgets his own limits. He's still a kid, and a fragile one. But that doesn't mean putting him away in a box, like Phil has done with Chayanne. That means finding ways to be safe, having extra backup plans, extra people you trust by your side. They're on together almost every night, even past or before streaming times.

Bad is the egg babysitter, he goes out of his way to do things for them because he genuinely is such a compassionate person. He's also dedicated to solving the lore, to pranking his friends, to building Skeppy statues, and everything else.

Dapper is the mechanic, a collector who isn't ashamed to help others and leave them a gift or a silly prank along the way. He's a kid, who fights with his dad and keeps a journal of how all his machines work, just in case.

A lot of times, when people want to thank Bad for his help, they wonder, "what do you give someone who has everything?" And truth be told I have no idea what I'd do. It never feels like Bad has everything, but rather, it feels like he has everything he really wants. Bad has Dapper, and together, they're able to accomplish almost anything. That's what I think makes them so compelling.

I occasionally scroll through Twitter and see people talking about how they want the egg event to end. I can respect that to a degree, I think it's ended up with some streamers quite stressed, tired, or receiving harassment. However, I feel like Bad and Dapper are the perfect example of why you can't just tear the eggs from their parents - Dapper is as much a character as Bad is. They're a duo, they compliment one another in their skills, their personalities, ect.

It's Bad and Dapper against the world.

And I really hope they find a way to allow them to stay that way.

#qsmp #qsmp dapper #qsmp badboyhalo #q!bad #qsmp eggs #god I love them so much okay #I was so tempted to be sad in post but Ill do it in the tags #When Bad was showing Forever his farm #he asked if Bad lived out here all alone #to which Bad responded it was him and Dapper.#If Dapper truly does go away #Can you imaine Bad being out there. so far from everyone else so disconnected #all alone? without his link to the world. without his pranking partner and the one who understands how all the machines work #Most of the server doesn't have his waypoint saved!#Who's going to support him through the fall? Who's going to be there to pick him up in the way that the rest have each other?#Gosh man. these eggs.

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etrevil · 9 months

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Despite how much I'm fuming at Fedya this chapter we gotta give him props for agreeing to thirdwheel skk until Chuuya himself shot Dazai down (literally and figuratively) in his confession lol

#fyodor is no 1 skk hater but somewhat of a supporter too #he listened to Dazai's prison rants and realized quicker than either of skk that they're into each other #dazai: can i talk go my partner #fyodor who has suffered through months of dazai daydreaming about chuuya but saying it's all about murdering him: ... sure #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd manga #bsd chapter 109 #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #osamu dazai #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #soukoku #bsd soukoku #bungou gay dogs

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pastafossa · 2 months

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Late to the party, first time watching DD completely, not in bits and pieces.

Ya know, thinking about it, in TRT, you've added ANOTHER parallel to Fisk and Matt.

They both fall in love with women who enable them.

Vanessa reassures Fisk that he's doing the right thing, that he's not to blame for what happened as a kid.

Jane reassures Matt that he's doing the right thing, that he's not to blame for what happened as a kid.

They both calm the raging fury that's inside of them.

I'd love to see Venessa and Jane have a conversation, just one. Just to see their personalities bounce off of eachother. I have a feeling Jane would start to show her teeth and Venessa would start to show her second face by the end of it.

(Not fully caught up with trt)

YESSSSSSSS! And that's the thing, like - the parallels between Matt and Fisk have always been an amazing piece of writing for me in canon. They set it up so beautifully, weaving in all these layers where you see how similar they are, but also slightly different: their first drink with their father (Matt while stitching up his dad, Fisk trying to please his dad), their father's deaths, the rage, trying to 'fix' the city, etc. And so it felt right to show something similar with Matt and Jane versus Fisk and Vanessa who, spoiler alert: I also fucking love as a couple.

Both are arguably healthy (ish) relationships in their own way. Supportive, loving. Like you said, they encourage or enabling the other depending on the circumstance/where you're standing: you're doing the right thing. I believe in you even when no one else does. You can do this. You're not to blame for what happened then. They're kind to their partners. And neither of them are as innocent as Matt and Fisk initially think.

But much like Matt and Fisk, there are slight differences, showing the different ways the wheels can turn even in similar people, namely in the way Vanessa leans into that personal darkness, and Jane is, at least for now, trying to lean away from it. Because Vanessa's very comfortable, confident with strolling through that darkness, as is fitting for a villain power couple. Jane meanwhile is more like someone who's trying for the second time to cross a Decent Person wire above a darkened I Want To Murder Many People canyon but she slipped and is now hanging onto it upside down, holding onto that rope with her teeth, fingers, and toes all while Circumstance butters her fingers and Matt desperately uses his balancing pole to swat at Circumstance from the nearby wire Matt himself is barely walking labeled 'Violent Catholic Vigilante Issues'.

ANYWAY, I agree. I think Vanessa and Jane would have a lot to talk about, and the push and pull between them both would be really interesting! Because there's so much they agree on, and yet, there's just enough different that ooooh... that slow build in tension would be delicious. How long before the masks fell, and they both got a true sense of the other? Only time would tell.

#the red thread #i love parallel characters #I LOVE THEM #SO MUCH #and all the parallels in DD is one of my favorite things about the show #Vanessa and Jane have very different backgrounds sure but they also have similar feelings towards their partners and are supportive #and act with them much the same way #which i found a FASCINATING thing to weave in #it tracks all the way back to Matt and Fisk being odd mirrors of each other: paralleled but eternally opposing forces that will always war #and that includes in relationships #they both worship the ground their ladies walk on but with these little *nudges* they're both pushing them in directions closer to themselv #Fisk bringing Vanessa into darkness with him and Matt clawing and fighting for a place in the light for Jane #god i love paralleling

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akkivee · 8 days

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you don't understand how good it feels to be drawing an unhinged kuukou again lmao

#this is vee speaking #i got to make some kuukou assumptions AND draw him wild asf it's been a productive day lol #no the finished pic will not be my post for tomorrow tho LOL #spoilers it's ichikuu based on the live lol #a couple of ichikuu fans have been posting about how kimura has been very slowly shifting perspectives #and being more aware of hayama-san as a performing partner and i have noticed it as well #bc i actually really hate the way that man usually looks at hayama-san LOL kimura's always thought hayama-san was talented #and i could see it in his eyes how much he felt a bit threatened by it lol so it's weird from my pov to see him trying to find a new groove #hayama-san vocal ichikuu supporter from day one lmao thru out the live kept wanting to do his little adlibs noises like he does with hitoya #but kept backing down also not yet in his groove with kimura lol #it’s very funny to watch them be so aware of each other but missing the beat #some might say it's irl ichikuu in a way but that's NOT me lmao

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sizzlinbaconpeach · 5 months

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Melded Memories

Just a Valenfield fanfic that has been sitting in my drafts for probably close to a year. I thought I'd share.

There was something cathartic about watching the flames envelop and scorch the pictures. It was slowly becoming easier to let go. He wasn't sure if it was the campfire smoke or the memories that stung at his eyes more, but he knew that either way, he was thankful the darkness of night and the campfire smoke obscured him from everything - like he only existed in this small bubble of light radiating from the logs - that now helped him erase and ease the pang in his heart.

He plucked another photo from the top of the opened box and paused to glance at it, the flames in his periphery trying to lick it out of his hand.

A small smile curled his lip as he gazed at their faces, the picture emanating pride and happiness from a moment in the past. But that's what photographs are - a frozen memory, a momentary clip of time that can never be reclaimed or changed. Only destroyed, so that memory might fade into the folds of obscurity, becoming harder to resurface in your mind the farther in time it travels. Isn't that what he was seeking? Didn't he want to forget it all? So why did he hesitate?

His thumb grazed over the photo, it was a rare relic before Raccoon City's destruction. He just so happened to have it developed before he left for Europe. And he's kept it ever since. But it was time to let go, time to let her go. He allowed himself to steal one final glance, to retreat into those memories just once more. They were both so young and had won the Skeet Shooting Competition as a team, together, just like they had always done. It had been her first time demonstrating all she had learned after their multiple lessons together at the shooting range.

He was initially doubtful if he could really teach her anything, as something like improved marksmanship usually came with practice. But he would have been a fool to turn down the opportunity to spend time with a pretty woman who was interested in something that he was good at. Great at, really. So when she mentioned that she was frustrated with her poor aim, the words just fell out of his mouth to invite her to the shooting range. He half said it because he never thought she would actually listen to his silly suggestion. But she accepted, was even eager and excited, which made him beam like an idiot. Those smiles seemed so mockingly optimistic now.

An intense guilt gnawed at his stomach; regret and deep sadness followed. He was naive to think they could walk away unscathed from this job. And stupid to believe he could protect her from it.

"Jill, stop!"

The awful reality replayed over and over again, like it was stuck on repeat. The pressure of her kick against his chest was fresh in his mind, like he could feel it ripple through him, clattering his insides around.

"I'm not going to hurt you!"

But that didn't mean she would do the same. With her weight against him, pinning him to the ground, and hands firmly clasped against his throat, he locked eyes with her. Eyes that were spilling over with emotion.

It was too much. For a brief moment he wanted to let her win, he wanted her to be able to rid herself of that tormented echo. Let her falling tears stab him like knives so that she didn't have to suffer anymore. But as he looked at her face, her twisted and crying face, he couldn't let this strip away another piece of her. He managed to break her grip, quickly flipped her off of him, and rushed for the door as it slammed shut between them. He could hear her thrashing around on the other side, that echo still driving her into a frenzy.

"I'm afraid there's nothing more we can do, Chris. Jill is not the same after everything she's been through. I - I think it best if you two... didn't see each other anymore."

"Where is Chris? Where is he? Is he okay? I want to see him! Please!"

"Jill, I want you to take some deep breaths. We just have to get the i.v. back in." The nurse tried to calm her with a firm but warm voice.

She saw the thick trail of blood running down the length of her arm, her palm tainted with the red blotchy stain. Her fingers felt sickly wet and uncomfortably sticky. Not again. She looked to the floor and saw the red drops leading to marks on the ground, that were smears of an indicated struggle. Please not again.

Her mind felt like it was on fire, in a daze and thick with a burning smoke. Her head was so heavy she barely had the energy to raise it. Her eyes felt like they wanted to retreat back into her head to try and find relief from the ache all over her body, but there was no relief. More tears fell out of her eyes as the needle pierced her skin.

"I'm not just going to give up on her like that!"

"No one is suggesting that she is a lost cause. Just... just that she needs -- distance. Your presence seems to be a catalyst to her worst symptoms. There has been an obvious pattern. We feel it would be best for the safety of yourself, Jill and all staff, if you refrained from seeing her until we can come to a better solution."

Those words were perhaps what he needed to hear, no matter how difficult. He would do anything to help Jill in whatever way he could. Like travel half way across the globe to fight through countless abominations to find her, with the scars to prove it, just as he had done in Africa. Scars. Just like he had done when pulled that torturous device off her chest. He would do anything, right? Even if it meant... Were the doctors words the truth? Was he the catalyst?

"Chris! Don't --!"

He loved the sound of her laugh.

I can’t--! Don’t say another word!"

He watched as her head went back in amusement. She tightly gripped his arm, which she only did when he said something to really make her lose herself. They always created a symphony of joy together - something that was needed every now and again to balance the stress of what they were doing - much to the annoyance of some co-workers. Their laughs used to even have Wesker threaten to move their desks. They were always a great source of relief for each other.

Could he go back to those long days of not hearing her voice? Or those restless nights with her whisper in the wind? He closed his eyes tight and rubbed them, his grip firmly stopping at the bridge of his nose. At least this time he knows that she is alive. Or is she?

Her pale skin and lackluster eyes tried so hard to show how resilient she was, tried in vain to put up a strong front. But Chris knew. She couldn't hide that from him, despite her best efforts. He could see that what she had endured had worn her down, taken pieces of her that she would never get back. There was a deep ache in his heart. And it burned Chris alive. It burned in his stomach. And it burned the back of his throat when he thought about it long enough. Knowing there was little to nothing he could do to help ease her struggle. Swallowing hard knowing he was the reason for it.

Chris gripped the armrest of the chair, turning his face toward the window, not able to make eye contact with the doctor who was so patiently waiting for a response. The sound of strained wood snapped in his ears.

"For her."

He watched as their faces bubbled and morphed, melting into monstrous tortured expressions, until the flames only left a gaping hole of nothingness. Something he felt was closer to the truth. How cruel fate can be. How much this job had taken from them. They would never be their plucky, rambunctious, adventurous, and wide eyed selves again.

The big crackles of the fire reminded him of the sound of gunfire.

"I can see their faces, Chris."

The phone startled him from his sleep - something he was thankful he finally slipped into. He glanced at the clock, the neon numbers reading back 1:12am. A sigh escaped his throat. 2 hours. He was finally able to sleep for 2 hours. He reached over and picked up the receiver, covering his eyes with his other hand. Was Forest drunk again?

Chris caught himself as he responded with a hello. It couldn't have been Forest. He was lost that awful, awful night. A night that stole the rest of Chris' nights away.

"Are you alright?" He shot up in bed, even he could hear his immense concern.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'll be right over." He fumbled to grab an over shirt and his keys, "keep the light on, it helps. I should be there in 10 minutes."

He quickly gave himself a once over in the mirror, attempting to fix the hair that decided to stand at attention in his sleep. He quickly tied up his sneakers and headed out the door.

He practically ran to her apartment, wanting to shorten the, at the time, unbearable separation. What a fool he was to think those 10 minutes felt like the longest he had ever experienced in his life.

"I'm so sorry. I know - I know it's already so late --" She started as soon as she opened her door. Her eyes looked red and puffy, like she had been crying.

As he walked in, every single light was turned on in her small apartment. The bathroom light with the fan whirred in the background, the fluorescent buzzed overhead, and even the TV was turned on but muted.

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "hey, hey. It's okay. I was already awake."

"I didn't know who else to call..."

Chris' voice was soft, "don't worry. Here, sit down." He pulled one of her kitchen chairs out.

"I - I..." she sighed as she tried to piece herself together, "I just couldn't. I can't anymore. You know what I mean?"

He took the seat next to her, "well, yeah, as soon as you tell me."

That got a smile out of her as she dipped her head down. A hand coming up to her forehead.

"I know, I must sound so jumbled right now, I'm sorry."

He glanced at her shaking hand and reached out to rest his own on her arm,

"it's okay. Take your time."

Jill's big blue eyes shined with gratitude, as if a giant weight was lifted from her shoulders, "thank you. Thank you for coming." Her voice was a little shaky.

He gently squeezed her arm with a smile then looked around, "I see you took my advice. Though the electric bill will kill ya."

"Oh yeah?" she smiled and then sighed with relief, "but you're right. It does help."

"Yeah." He didn't mean for his response to sound so resounding in it's understanding, but maybe that would comfort her more. To know that she wasn't the only one who was afraid of the shadows and the haunting darkness of night.

His eyes weren't fixed on anything in particular but the images in his own mind, "sometimes the rain makes it worse..."

"Yeah..." He could see a chill run up her spine. "I can see their faces, Chris."

"Me too." He scooted his chair over next to hers as he wrapped his arms around her, "I see them, too. You're not alone, Jill." There was a slight break in his voice.

"Don't be upset, Chris."

She had passed out on their weekly run together. She had insisted on going, even though Chris had his doubts that morning. She looked pale, even paler than normal if that were possible. He tried to assure her and persuade her to do their exercises another day, but she could not be deterred. So he tried to adjust his pace, and she was able to maintain that for a while, but he started to notice her breathing becoming really labored, so he suggested going into the park to do some squats. She was barely able to get out her feigned 'I'm fine', before Chris could see what was about to happen. He was thankful he was standing right next to her to catch her fall.

"How long was I out?"

"About half an hour."

Jill somewhat rolled her eyes as she turned her head away with a heavy sigh, the hospital grade pillow under her head made a noise as the crisp linen rubbed against itself. She was clearly struggling with her new limitations and it frustrated her to no end.

"It's getting longer..." she softly added with a sad voice.

"What do you mean?" Chris crossed his arms over his chest while tilting his head to intently listen.

Jill continued to stare up at the ceiling, there was a depression to her voice, "the time. How long I'm out. It's getting longer."

"You've passed out multiple times?" Chris thought he sounded more like a father scolding his rebellious teenager.

She didn't respond. Just continued to presumably stare at nothing, or maybe it was because she didn't want to meet his eye. But her brows were knitted in what looked to be annoyance.

"Jill, why didn't you tell me?" His hands returned to the arms of the chair as he leaned in. He didn't think he did a good job of masking the anger in his voice. It hurt him that she didn't share that with him. And her response was sharp.

"I didn't think it mattered!" She sat up to finally meet his gaze.

"Didn't matter --?"

"I didn't want to be back here! I didn't want to be stuck in a stupid lab like I had been for years!" Her voice was raw, like admitting that broke a piece of her.

Chris fell silent. All words escaped his mind as none would be sufficient enough to ease that truth. He stared at her for a moment before casting his eyes to the floor.

"It should be me laying there. This never should have been placed on you..." His gaze became fuzzy as he continued to look down.

That's all I have - just a hodgepodge of slop. Just a bunch of fanficiton Valenfield love. I had a vague idea of what I wanted to write but then I always get side-tracked and/or forget what my original intention was, haha. Sorry - hopefully you can enjoy this scatterbrained mess!

#this story is hop hop hopping around XD #still love these two #just forever partners supporting each other <3 #thought I'd add some art too!#fanfiction

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