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baejax-the-great · 1 year

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Absolutely reeling.

So I knew that the origin of "Hector was a great man, moral, noble, better than all of the Greeks" began as Roman propaganda that somehow has made it to now, the year 2023, and is still taught to high school students.

What I did not know was why scholars shit on Achilles as vehemently as they did (and still do).

My copy of Fagles' translation of the Iliad has a preface by a different scholar who I'm not going to bother to name because he's an idiot (and idk probably dead at this point). I read the entire thing, absolutely baffled, because he would cite a part of the text (that I admittedly had not read yet! at all!), quote it, and then come to the most batshit interpretation based on that quote I had ever seen in my life. His general take was that Achilles was a sociopath who had no feelings for anyone other than himself and his own pride, and every action he took (until welcoming Priam into his hut) was done in service of that pride. To support this, he decided that Achilles did not see Patroclus as a person, but rather as an extension of himself, and thus someone injuring Patroclus was them injuring Achilles, and so he did not care about Patroclus, he only cared about his wounded pride.

Yeah.

That sounded wrong before reading the book, and while reading the book all i could think was, "Did we read the same fucking thing???" Put in context, those quotations still did not support his conclusions whatsoever.

But i cracked open Caroline Alexander's "The War That Killed Achilles" last night, and she solves this mystery of "Hector good, Achilles bad" for me right out the gate (which is good because so far I've only read the preface).

Western Europeans by and large learned about the Trojan war from Roman stories, which became fairly popular, and not the Iliad, which was not translated into French or English until centuries later. As mentioned, these were propaganda that cast the Trojans in a much better light than the Greeks because the Romans believed they were descended from Trojan refugees. This starts a trend that is still going on in scholarly circles as casting the Iliad as a war between "barbaric Greeks living in a shitty, lawless camp" vs "civilized, educated, weaving, real-wife-having Trojans," making the Iliad a tragedy in which Homer for some reason skewers his own people and their warlike culture as barbaric while propping up a dead, foreign city-state. This interpretation is still extant and was the postscript to another copy of the Iliad I have.

According to Alexander, scholars closer to Homer's time saw the entire war as a tragedy--both the destruction of Troy AND the destruction of the Greek army. While this is not covered in the Iliad, very few Greeks actually made it home after Troy. Some that did were then outcast (Teucer for example), some were murdered (bye, Agamemnon), some went on to create new kingdoms in other places (Diomedes), but by and large, there was no going home from that war. There was no great victory with all their loot. The entire thing was a disaster for both sides, spurred on by fickle gods.

Back to the more recent European interpretations of this story, one reason Hector ended up cast in such a "good" light, despite being a dumbass who wants to dishonor dead people just as badly as Achilles ever did, was in order to make Achilles look worse. Why was it important that Achilles becomes a villain in this story in which he is very much not a villain? Because Europeans were involved in so much war with each other and the rest of the world that a young, insubordinate man who criticizes his idiot of a commander, decides his life isn't worth throwing away for this war, and refuses to fight to sack a city was an affront to their values. Young men were to be obedient, follow their commanding officers, and colonize the world for queen and country. Achilles suggesting losing his life is not worth it to prop up Agamemnon's war is a dangerous precedent for all the good little soldiers needed to make their nations wealthy.

It's almost funny that these analyses propping up Troy as a beacon of civilization were made by people living in countries so bent on colonizing the world. They identified with the city being sacked and not the greedy sackers of said city, who they were much closer to. And Achilles, educated, morally rigid, emotional Achilles, is recast as a sociopathic asshole who doesn't care about anyone other than himself, unlike all of those other beacons of selflessness among the Greek leadership.

The tragedy of the Iliad is that Achilles is right, the war is pointless, Agamemnon did dishonor the shit out of him, and it doesn't matter because he's going to die in it anyway.

Frankly, given how badly his character has been interpreted for so long, I think the muses owe him an apology.

#the iliad #achilles #I have only read the preface of this book #hope yall like essays #writing essays at 6am and hoping they are grammatical #haven't even had my coffee yet my head is too full of achilles #also a hefty chunk of it was FRENCH propaganda like come ON

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paradoxcase · 2 months

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John 1:20

THE TOWER HAS BEEN REACTIVAT

No surprises there.

I mean, isn't this basically the same conclusion they already came to like several John chapters ago, when Augustine was questioning whether the FTL even existed? (Although, apparently actual FTL really happens at the end of this chapter, I guess it actually was real? Why does it make no appearance in the rest of these books? If this other FTL technology exists, why did BOE work so hard to get a ship with a stele and a necromancer to operate it?) Anyway, this doesn't feel like a new or exciting conclusion to come to

I don't feel like this story has done a good job of explaining why this has to be done, or even why John and co. think it has to be done. Is it because they're leaving in the ships that were intended for the cryo project? I'm sure they can build more of those, it's just money and engineering, and even if all the trillionaires leave, there's still a lot of governments with a lot of money out there who would probably be willing to fund the cryo project when John turns out to be right about trillionaires after they've left and there's no one left to defend them and talk about the secret lives of cows. I mean, as long as he doesn't start doing stupid and crazy shit and causing a nuclear holocaust. Who cares if the trillionaires leave? I feel like the point of these chapters is to explain why John did what he did, but I don't think this explanation makes a lot of sense. This is not moving me as a supervillain origin story

So, according to the UN, world population will not reach ten billion until 2058. I calculated earlier that John can't be born later than 1998 and still be old enough to realistically attend the Parachute music festival, so are we meant to believe that John is 60 years old here?

If I had a nickel for every time someone had their arm cut off and then regrown in this story, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

Also, thanks for not making this one a sex scene, I think I've already heard more than I wanted to about John's sex life

Presumably this is needed for something resurrection-related, I guess it's so that when the suitcase nuke explodes he can grow a whole new G1deon again from the arm, like a starfish. So presumably John would have had no trouble growing Ianthe a new arm that worked as her arm, if she had asked him. I went back to see where Ianthe's first problematic arm had come from, but all I can find is that she denies that either John or Mercy was responsible for it. Did she make it herself? I can't remember

Ok, but six paragraphs earlier Pyrrha is being mad that G1deon won't arm the nuke if she comes with him. Did Pyrrha know, or not?

I mean, I hate to say it, but you were right there with all of the others when John was like, we have to stop the trillionaires from escaping, that's the absolute more important thing to be doing right now, and exactly zero of you said, no John, that's not actually the most important thing to be doing right now

Why did Cristabel decide that right now was the best time for John to figure out how souls work? There's this whole side narrative about John working out how souls work, but it doesn't really feel tied to the rest of the story about the trillionaires and the cryo project

I think I see. As established at the beginning of Harrow the Ninth, a living planet's soul is like the collective thalergy of everything that lives on the planet, so I guess it's kind of a gestalt oversoul, where every individual living soul on the planet is part of it? So when a planet is dead, then by definition everything else on it is also dead, since otherwise there would still be a living planet soul of some sort. The fact that John wasn't able to control individual human souls here while Alecto was still alive sort of implies that resurrection, and maybe most kinds of soul magic, are actually impossible on a living planet, if even John can't distinguish between human souls and the planet soul in that context. I guess that means that that kind of stuff would only be possible on an undead planet in the Nine Houses

No, I think that's totally fair, actually

I feel like this is important. Everyone else was killed by someone else. Like, John was 100% responsible for all of this mess, but he didn't actually pull the trigger to kill anyone else, and until this point he still has some plausible deniability, like he was just trying to stop the trillionaires, and he never intended to set off any nukes or kill anyone, he was just stressed and being a bit dumb. But he specifically kills G1deon, who is clearly his most loyal supporter. Like, I think he probably could have talked to G1deon over the phone at this point and been like, hey new plan, we're actually going to let the nuke go off and kill a million people so I can gain godlike power, don't worry I'm gonna figure out how to bring you back to life again using your arm, and I honestly think there's a solid chance that G1deon would have been like, sure thing boss, see you when it's all over. Then it would have been like, consensual, I guess? But he doesn't even do that. He just kills him. Obviously John has just killed people before at this point, and he would also be just killing another million people, but I think it's sort of different for John to just kill a bunch of cops or the population of Melbourne that he doesn't know at all, versus to just kill someone like G1deon, who he's known all his life and is somehow impossibly loyal to him

I'm not feeling this metaphor

Well, that's extremely biblical

So this means that the only reason Alecto survived this in a way that the other cavaliers didn't was because John couldn't entirely consume her soul, or thought he couldn't. And I guess he just decided it was too complicated to figure out how to do this with a human soul, and a necromancer who doesn't have all that power at hand at that moment?

So this is what Hollywood Hair Barbie looks like, apparently:

Maybe it's just the angle of the photo, but she doesn't seem to have quite as freakish proportions as the barbies I grew up with, which is good. For a moment I was imagining 8-foot-tall Alecto who is 75% legs and it was terrifying

What is the "shaman" a reference to, here?

So ultimately, John's powers came from Alecto originally, when she was still alive as the soul of Earth - it's implied throughout the story that necromancy comes from exposure to thanergy, but this obviously wasn't the case for John's specific flavor of necromancy, but he is definitely making use of thanergy to do what he does. So why did Alecto have the ability to give someone necromancy powers, that make use of death energy, rather than say, something the primarily makes use of life energy/thalergy which would probably be more useful and not incentivize killing ten billion people to gain more power?

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth

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darlingpwease · 10 months

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My star of my life I really need some Yandere Ogirinal Shen Qingqiu he need some love to

yes, pretty thing~ omega yandere Shen Qingqiu is already in the active stage of creation¹, but I can still give a little bit of what I'm unlikely to include there, but it's still an important part of his yandere personality<3

what if the desire to do evil has become a little stronger than me?

♡ unhealthy behaviour (guilt tripping, obsessiveness, possessiveness, mutual dependency, manipulation), teacher/student dynamic, power imbalance, heavy ooc, mention of corporal punishment (threat), 'break the cutie' if you squint, op!reader but it only makes things worse, pre-relatonship themed

on the territory of the Qing Jing peak, SHEN QINGQIU'S power is absolute — and how cunning and manipulative he was made everything worse, including for you, his head disciple, known for your abnormal luck and ability to find something that 'existed only in legends' and was 'long lost'. you've never made it up too much, but as long as you remembered, you've always been like this — as long as the chance was at least a little bit, at the very drop, above zero, you win. always. luck loved you and was your first spouse, since you could not have another.

but you really loved your Shizun, your Shifu.

in the end, for superiority in one thing, you always have to pay to be a complete squalor in something else, and it's not your fault that for your peculiarity you were so chronically unlucky in love, as if fate itself did not allow you to connect with anyone and remain alone forever and almost embedded in the thigh of your Shifu, like you'll be there forever.

not that you were particularly against it — despite the look of piercing green eyes and elegant humming, especially when he watched you bring everything with you again, like a magnet for any legendary things and techniques, Shifu never showed you any injustice or malice, tilting his head slightly to one side when you guiltily stretched out to him, what was found again as a gift, as if expecting him to stroke you as a good thing for it.

but it was really useful and rare, and not that it was like you were a cat and dragged dead small animals, right? in the end, Shifu, even if he did his job more than perfectly and was never famous for laziness or little diligence, hated dirt and dust, and you always acted according to this, even if you knew that he was always more than 'favoritist' to you, as the disciples whispered, just for a moment allowing themselves to say something of this kind about you before immediately shut up and hide, knowing that you were openly favored, regardless of what someone might think, — but you understood that SHEN QINGQIU just knows how you feel when he stares down at you, without having to open his mouth or point at something.

his venom was enough, as were the wounds on back from the whip, but you never did anything that could provoke, allowing yourself to give up a part rather than tease a predator. after all, at the peak, no one dared to go against him, at least openly, and whenever you allowed yourself to do something like this in secret from him, you dared only hope that your luck would not let you down.

you already had a lot more opportunities and 'freedom' than others — as long as you don't left your beloved Shifu, of course.

you are used to finding the perfect approach to him, knowing how explosive and aggressive SHEN QINGQIU is, hating criticism, becoming extremely overwhelming for the sake of protection — and fearing that he will not be enough or that he is still unprotected, as if believing that the whole world is against him and everyone is just waiting to stick a knife in into his back as soon as he allows himself a moment of weakness.

even if SHEN QINGQIU was very emotional, letting his feelings go out and flare up like a myriad of stars, his fan hid everything perfectly, like a veil between him and the real world, behind which he can hide everything that does not want to show.

but whenever you were stuck in the bamboo house again, helping him, as if you were on a leash and could not go anywhere except with him or only with his approval and for a short period, he never touched fan, letting you run like a squirrel in a wheel while he could close eyes, relaxing serenely, the only time you saw him not tense like a loaded arrow, at any moment capable of shooting into someone's body at the slightest hint. and you knew that this was not an exaggeration.

and you can't help but indulge, wanting to please him, even when you have to move into a bamboo house and stay within it — yes, even if you want to find a 'gift' for him or have found something interesting. don't go anywhere without him.

you are his disciple, so you have to obey him the same way he cares about you — absolutely.

... you had not communicated with any of the disciples for a long time, although you could not say whether intentionally or not — even if you were known as the treasure of the peak and the favorite of heaven, not knowing defeats or failures, you could not say that your social life was like this same.

you were just... unlucky, yes.

and it's not that Shifu doesn't make it more than clear to you that 'this' is not the right company for you, and you might as well leave right away without permission and without asking anything, unless, of course, you value your place, thinking that he, like heaven, will be condescending and kind to you always, even if you bite the hand that feeds you.

was he harsh to you? was he cruel? has he ever physically punished you? or maybe he was being unfair?

even the last one, everything he does is still not enough for you and you need someone else?

then you can continue to look around if you are not afraid of the consequences.

the whip will definitely teach you how to respect your teacher and what you can and cannot do, since you are the head disciple and always keep him company, but instead of gratitude you continue to play on his nerves.

you behave like a white-eyed wolf who thinks they are omnipotent, but at this peak he is in charge — and you better accept it, because you will never leave this peak.

... It's all good. he understands that you just have an age. he is already very indulgent, since he did not whip you, leaving bloody marks on your back with scars that would definitely consolidate today's lesson, so you better be grateful and not provoke him again, because next time he will take the whip in his hands and you better learn that it will not be pleasant for anyone which one of you two, except those disciples who are just waiting for your fall.

you better accept the fact that, having become the head disciple and potentially the next leader of the peak, a huge number of eyes are fixed on you and waiting to be able to snatch this place.

you are just lucky that SHEN QINGQIU sees your potential and cares about you, even if you are so arrogant and audacious.so you should stop looking for someone else and accept that SHEN QINGQIU is the best if you don't want any consequences — just like he doesn't want them.

you still look at him and only at him, even when you carefully put your outer clothes on him or try to please him; even when you see that he needs help, and you provide without words, in return receiving expensive delicacies or clothes that, you know, cannot be obtained without connections. Shifu is very elegant, and you don't hesitate to say it, getting a soft fleeting smile for the first time, full not of mockery or neglect, but of gentleness.

SHEN QINGQIU willingly takes you everywhere with him, exposing the main treasure, but firmly suppressing any attempts to establish a connection with you unnecessarily, as if taking you out just to show off before dragging to himself and hiding from the outside world, closing the world on the two of you.

you don't remember the last time you had close contact with the disciples, but to almost shame, you quickly get used to the new model of the world, giving yourself a try to have fun fighting the wind together — and realize with amazement that Shifu is a much deeper and more interesting person, especially when he allows you to shorten the distance; experiencing deeply and intensely, at least you know that he is not joking at all when he says that you will be with him forever or that only you matter, touching your hot hands with cold lips, but you only smile, wrapping him in your clothes. it's almost like a domestic routine, only your husband is a huge lazy cat who constantly screams and mutters and hates when you are away, calling back as soon as your absence time is more than five minutes.

when you see a new disciple, you instantly recognize Shifu in him.

and you are sure that he understood it from your look.

“don't you dare approach the beast.”

The hoarse whisper fills your mind, but you just nod. Of course, Shifu.

but something tells you that your promise won't last long this time.

“Should I remind you of what I told you last time?”

¹ <3

#❖.my jewelry #🥮 — svsss #✉.shen jiu #🧸.yandere au #🧸.unhealthy

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bluebamb00 · 14 days

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VOLUME 25 COVER HAS BEEN CLEANED UP,

and im here to talk about it. (Major spoilers... if you didn't think of that before)

First of all, we have 5 different people in the picture:

Fukuchi

Fukuzawa

Dazai

Fyodor

Possibly Atsushi? (The legs behind Dazai)

Analysing the main elements of the picture that stand out the most, we can see that:

Fukuchi and Fukuzawa are side by side; behind them is a coloured background. Fukuzawa's side is white, and Fukuchi's is black. This should represent the good and evil, (I'm going to absolutely reach here) but it could also represent the symbol of Yin and Yang.

The symbol of Yin and Yang is halved into white and black, with a small amount of white in black, and black in white. So, according to this logic, perhaps Fukuzawa may do something evil in the name of good. This could range from wiping out a good majority of Yokohama to anything. But this could also mean sacrificing someone.

And following that, Fukuchi may help the Armed Detective Agency. As there is a little amount of good, there is a chance Fukuchi will help the Detective Agency with defeating Fyodor. Taking into account the fact that he is most likely dead, it could mean that he has already helped. In the image, the Shintō Amenogozen is stuck into the ground. The Shintō Amenogozen is a sword that belonged to Fukuchi before being merged with the Holy Sword Soluz Levni. When a sword is stuck into the ground, it sort of looks like a cross. And this was actually done in some cases in real life, when headstones couldn't be placed at that moment.

This is one indicator that Fukuchi is not saveable, and might be killed off. And to quote our favourite beauty, Koyo: "A flower that blooms in the dark can survive only within the dark. If you pursue the light, its heat will burn you up in the end." Applying this logic to the fact that Fukuchi looks ashamed in the original cover image, and that he is surrounded by darkness, it is safe to say he may not recieve a spot in the light.

The Shintō Amenogozen is also on Fukuzawa's side of the cover. It sits right under his image.

This could mean that the sword someday comes into Fukuzawa's possession.

Seperating Fukuzawa and Fukuchi is the demon himself, Fyodor.

Surrounding Fyodor, there is a dark aura. Just finding some posts on reddit and the general internet, most people tend to say that anyone with a dark aura has secrets deeply hidden. Secrets. Extremely dark secrets, with an additional tie to dark magic or dark powers.

Fyodor's ability has already been revealed, so only God knows what other secrets he could be hiding. But in Fyodor's hands, he holds what appears to be a rook. From an article I found speaking of the symbolism of chess pieces,((https://steemit.com/life/@iamthenerd/the-symbolism-of-chess) Here is the link if you'd like it ^^) the symbolism of a rook is essentially brute force.

"The rook is brute force. It is a disregard to beliefs. It is the equivalent to "Hulk smash!". "

Relating the rook to be a direct use of force is a beautiful analogy for this cover especially. Fyodor revealing the nature of his ability could be one way of using "brute force"; a reveal of one of his secrets. (I call the 'nature' of his ability one of his secrets, as it had not been revealed beforehand and a lot of us had honestly been mislead by that scene of Fyodor and Karma in my humble opinion) Another way this rook could reference brute force is following his ability reveal. When he causes a tripolar singularity.

"Just as in real life, we do not pull out our rooks until the board has developed a bit....There is a time and a place for the rooks where they are highly effective. The only trick is to make sure you keep account of the rest of your board and never "just use" your rooks unless it's all you have left!"

Following what this source says about the rook being a possible last weapon, this tripolar singularity could be the last thing Fyodor has left for him at the moment. As always, the protagonists win in the end, but this could represent the end of Fyodor being a main antagonist and finally bring an end to his cruel antics! Sorry Nikolai.

In all his glory, lays the detective Osamu Dazai.

In the cover, Dazai is laying with his eyes closed, but he carries a determined look on his face. Surrounding him are Japanese Camellias.

There is a lone camellia right next to his heart, and a camellia stabbed right through with one of the Hunting Dog's swords that sits above his shoulder.

The meaning of the Japanese Camellia can mean a many of things:

Devotion and Undying Loyalty

Bravery and Perseverance

A Symbol of a Noble Death

As I said before, Dazai dons a determind look. This could link into both the Devotion and Perseverance. He is determined, but for what?

Well, my best guess would have to be saving the Detective Agency. The stabbed camellia above his shoulder could represent how the Hunting Dog's had come close to defeating him and his plans behind the scenes, but had not defeated him. However, as the camellia represents loyalty, the stabbed camellia could represent a part of him that has been betrayed or could be betrayed by his loyalty.

We all know about the transfer of one Agency member to the Mafia, and I think it's safe to say a majority of the BSD fandom hates it. (I SURE DO, I DON'T WANT DAZAI TO GO BACK WAAAAHHHH) Dazai could be chosen to transfer to the Port Mafia.

However, although this may seem insignificant, the light is shining on Dazai. In BSD as a series, the ADA is represented as 'The Light' and the PM as 'The Dark'. Dazai is still shining in the light, and the light is also shining on the camellia on his heart. This gives me the small amount of hope needed to say that Dazai will remain in the Armed Detective Agency, and that his devotion to the ADA will truly be seen by all.

Dazai also keeps on his bolo tie, which I have seen mentioned by a lot of people to be a symbol of his connection to the ADA. His bolo tie is in no way damaged or harmed, and it reflects in the light. This would also symbolise him remaining in the ADA.

Although, there is a hefty chance he could be. Mentioned in the part of Fukuzawa and Fukuchi, I say that there could be a sacrifice made by Fukuzawa to maintain good. This could be 'sacrificing' Dazai and putting him down as the transferee.

Also, I'd just like to add, it's most likely to early to be deciding who goes to which faction. Like I said, though, I cannot predict what Asagiri will do.

In the background of the sky Dazai lays in, we can see a pair of legs running.

There is no one else I can think of when I see those high legged trousers. Atsushi. Atsushi not being in the main focus, but being in the background, could insinuate that the rest of the ADA will appear in the story quite soon as support characters in this part of the story.

All in all, I have reason to believe that this may be one of the final volumes of the DOA arc. The usage of Fyodor's rook - his final(?) piece- is giving me that impression heavily.

I have never posted any of my theories before. I hope anyone who reads this takes my thoughts into account.

#bsd #bsd meta #osamu dazai #fyodor dostoevsky #fukuzawa yukichi #fukuchi genichirou #cant wait till june for the next chapters!!!!#i apologise if this is not fully in depth...#i wrote this in one sitting #could barely stand to beta read so any confusion ask me!

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emwritesstuff · 4 months

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so about dynamo?

i'm not realy a enemies to lovers type of person but holy fucking shit, somehow you have gotten the right amout of ''i care, deeply, truly, about this person'' and ''oh ny fucking god, can they shut the fuck up FOR ONCE. i need to fuck them. but because of my own issues, sure, but i need them dead like rn. for the love of god, can they fuck offf-''

and i think that's great. steve dosn't feel ooc, him feeling annoying and demanding without his softnes, also feels in character

sparky is wonderful, she'd messy and snarky and sharp around the edges as a means of survival. Of course steve wants to help, but she's not bucky so it's weird, comes off as entitled, ''lectury'' to sparks

i also think that it would be realy cool to expolore how, maybe, a relationship between bucky and sparks would function (i mean this fully platonicaly for both of them), cuz both are kinda fucked, and somewhat in a similar boat (with the whole...activation thing) the uncertainty if the people in your life can ever see you beyond the things you've been put through and all of that, y'know,

(but also it's your story, and it's realy fucking cool as is)

so uh, yeah 👍🏻. i hope they get to fuck nasty in the next one (i need her to bite him)

oh my god hi. this is THE BEST ask here we go

somehow you have gotten the right amout of ''i care, deeply, truly, about this person'' and ''oh ny fucking god, can they shut the fuck up FOR ONCE.

I tried to give both Steve and Reader traits that could either clash or bring the other balance, and also not make one All Good and the other All Bad. I love enemies to lovers but it can be really hard to find harmony between that hate and affection, and make the progression feel natural - that's what I've been trying to do and it's sooo good to hear that it's been working!

steve dosn't feel ooc, him feeling annoying and demanding without his softnes, also feels in character

I love that you think that! My favorite Steve is CATWS Steve. He feels real but also holds all the traits we love about him. What's happening in this movie is also happening here: our man is under a lot of pressure from multiple sides (including Sparky's) and it's hard to let his true personality shine when he has so much on his shoulders. But with time we'll get some more of his softness, it's there

I added some of this glimpses already, but I hope to touch more on the post Civil War Accords soon, and show that he had to compromise a lot to get his team back to the comfort and resources of the Compound.

Of course steve wants to help, but she's not bucky so it's weird, comes off as entitled, ''lectury'' to sparks

Their distrust of one another definitely made things more difficult than they could be. She doesn't see it as him trying to help and Steve doesn't understand - at first - how warped her world views have been at this point (and he is indeed lecturey). What should be obvious isn't and it creates frustration for the both of them. But I think that's on its way to change hehehe

i also think that it would be realy cool to expolore how, maybe, a relationship between bucky and sparks would function (i mean this fully platonicaly for both of them)

I'm so glad you touched this subject because it's for sure going to happen! I've started to set that up on part 5 and I want to get something going on part 6. Reader and Bucky have had very similar experiences, and that's the reason they've kept their distance so far - it's too close to home. If I may give an itty bitty spoiler, someone is gonna spill the beans about the record player, lol Also! Bucky has been Steve's wingman since the 1940s 👀

i hope they get to fuck nasty in the next one (i need her to bite him)

I'm not the most skilled with smut but it's happening! I'll see what i can do about the biting 😈

#ask #thebluespacecow #this was so much fun to answer #thank you so much for asking!!#and reading #❤️#dynamo

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boygiwrites · 9 months

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Harley D. Dixon 14

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. Another quick update! I'm on a roll! Please enjoy reading :)

"Blessed be God, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ in heaven."

Under the shade of an old oak tree on the outskirts of the Greene farm, I stand at Shane's side as Herschel fills an empty grave with prayers. I've never been to a stranger's funeral before. I don't belong here — none of our group does — but according to Rick, this is how we show respect to the mourning family, and respect is how we get to stay here on the farm longer than just a week. I'm not too sure what's so respectful about watching in silence while Patricia lowers her dead husband's belongings into the ground, but this is what we have to do.

"Praise be to Him for the gift of our brother, Otis — For the span of his years; for his abundance of character."

I glance up at Rick, who's standing on the other side of the semi-circle we've formed. He stares at Shane. I didn't know so much about Otis' character, but he must've had a whole bunch of it, 'cause Patricia cries twice as loudly now, as Maggie helps her out the grave. All I know is he shot my Dad. In another life, this would've been Rick's fate for killing my Uncle. In another-another life, my Uncle isn't dead at all.

"Otis, who gave his life for the chance to save another."

That's how the story goes. Shane and Otis, cornered but resilient, down to ten rounds — one killed in a tragic act of sacrifice.

"We thank you, God, for the rest you now grant him. He died as he lived — In grace. May the arms of eternity embrace him."

I wonder if Otis is going to Hell or heaven. I wonder if God's holdin' him in some sort of waiting room right now, watching on as my Dad fights for his life; waiting to see if Otis is a murderer. In my eyes, he already is. If God's as smart as they say he is, he'll send Otis to Hell.

Herschel gently closes the Bible.

Me and my Dad went to church, a long time ago. They used to give out free food and diapers every Sunday before mass to encourage people who couldn't afford those types of things to come in and pray, but we never did any of the praying. We just took the cheap groceries, feeling only partially ashamed as upper middle-class Christians sung hymns in the background. The worst was when they said they'd pray for us.

God be with you, the man would tell my Dad.

Thanks, Dad would answer, head lowered, and then pull me back out to the parking lot.

When I asked him if God was real, all he said was that if he is, then he must be deaf. I could never imagine him praying.

"Shane," Herschel says.

The man besides me startles slightly.

"Will you speak for Otis?"

Speak for a dead man?

He stiffens as everybody turns their gazes on him.

"I... I'm not good at this." He says quietly, clearing his throat; shaking his head. I think if he could run away, he would. "I'm sorry."

"You were the last one with him." Patricia insists. "You shared his final moments."

He stares at her, mouth open but no words coming out. It reminds me of that far-away look he had last night when he returned alone. This is not the Shane I know. Who am I kidding, my Dad once said to Shane, You always got somethin' you wanna say. Not right now, he don't.

"Please." Patricia says, stepping forward.

The uncomfortable silence persists.

"I need to hear." She begs. "I need to know his death had meaning."

Rick's still staring at him, more intensely than the rest. You better say something, the look says, You better not mess this up.

Shane licks his lips, and glancing down at me is the thing that finally pushes him to speak.

"Okay." He concedes, nodding to himself. A weak breeze sails through the leaves above us as he speaks, and there's something about the way his eyes shift from person to person and the way his clasped hands twitch that give me the sense he's making it up as he goes. "We were about to reach the main building," He tells us. "We were down to pistols by then. I was limping. The dead; closin' in. It was... Things weren't looking good. 'The supplies are in there.' You see, that's what he said. To me. 'You have to get them. You have to save that poor girl's Dad.' He gave me his backpack. He gave me his rifle. 'Run. I'll cover you,' He said. I had no choice. I ran. When I looked back..."

I did it, is all I can remember him saying last night, I did it, I did it.

Did what?

"He died thinking of Daryl." He sticks his chin up. "He died giving him a chance."

He died for nothing, is what he really means to say.

Maggie looks down at her boots, holding Patricia's shaking hand.

"I might not've been able to... find the supplies," He gulps, taking a deep breath, "But I made it out alive. And I owe that all to Otis."

A sob breaks out amongst us.

"If any death ever had meaning, it was his."

"Amen."

"Amen," We all say.

I don't remember much about the people at our church, but I do remember them saying, to lie is to rot oneself from the inside out with sin.

When I glance up at Shane, I find him already looking right back at me.

The funeral ends.

On our way back up the hill, we hear car engines approaching.

"I'm guessing this is the right Green farm, then?" Dale says through his open window, bringing the RV to a crawl alongside us. Behind him, the remainder of our group rounds him and continues driving up the road. Maggie opens the gate for them. "Beautiful out this way, huh?"

"Hey, Dale." I smile lightly. "Ya made it."

"Hop in. I'll give you a ride up."

He brakes long enough to let me climb in, and as I sit next to him in the passenger seat, he starts it back up again.

"What are you all doing so far from the house?"

I don't bother buckling my seatbelt. It's only a short drive.

"We had a funeral." I tell him, "For this man named Otis. He died last night."

"What happened?" He frowns. "Is your Dad alright?"

"Yeah, he— He's inside right now. Glenn's giving him blood. He ain't really supposed to be doin' it, though. He's gonna get sick, but he says he don't care. There's nobody else who can do it. Actually, what type of blood do you have?" When he regretfully says he doesn't know, I continue. "Well, Shane, and that man, Otis, they were meant to come back with some more last night, but somethin' went wrong. Only Shane made it back."

Maggie waves us through and closes the gate behind us.

"I heard Rick wants to go back." I say. "To the college. Today. He thinks he'll find what my Dad needs."

Dale nods. "That woman said he got shot."

"Yeah. In the stomach." I exhale thinly, fiddling with my fingernails. "It's... S'real bad."

"It wasn't Shane?"

"Huh?"

"It wasn't Shane who shot him?"

I think it's telling that that's Dale's first assumption. Hell, I think it was everyone's, but now I don't know what to think.

"Apparently not." I shake my head. "Apparently it was Otis. A huntin' accident, Rick says."

"Hunting accident?"

"He wasn't there when it happened. He an' Glenn just came across the farm while lookin' and knocked on the door. Shane's said nothin'."

Dale glances at me. "That's unlike him."

I don't know what else to say to that besides, yeah, 'cause I got no idea how Shane's mind works. I know he's smart. I know he's good with words. He's everything Rick is, but amplified, and he's good at makin' people not realize it — 'cause he's also good at hiding things.

Dale brings the RV to a stop under a tall tree near the house.

"Just be careful, Harley." He looks me in the eye when he says this. "Be careful with Shane. You're a smart girl. I think you can figure out why."

No. No, I'm done figuring things out.

Shane is my friend, and Shane cares for me, and I need him right now. That's all that matters.

If that's not a smart thing to say, then I guess I must be dumb, but at least I'm not hurt. I never wanna be hurt again.

"Whatever," I mumble, rising from my seat.

I know I'll feel bad about it later, but I slam the door when I leave.

"Are you sure about this?"

As soon as we make it back to the house, Rick tells everyone he's going back to the college. Andrea offers to go with him to watch his back, and Herschel reluctantly writes up another list of medical supplies and pills for them to look for. He hands it to Rick, who quickly reads it over.

"I'm sure." He replies, folding the list into his pocket. "I couldn't be surer. It's a shot in the dark, but we gotta do it."

"The surgical labs?" Andrea asks. "That's where we'll find what we need?"

"Yes," Herschel sighs, looking unconfident. "If not there, then the storage rooms. It sounds like it's all overrun, though, Rick."

He shakes his head. "We've dealt with worse."

Carol leaves the room, a hand over her mouth. She wants Rick to keep searching for Sophia, but this is taking priority right now.

"Didn't Shane say there was nothin' left?" T-Dog butts in, confused. "I mean, he came back with nothin'."

"No." Rick says. "We don't know why that happened. If I had to guess, I'd say he had to retreat after Otis... After Otis passed."

"Man, he couldn't just double back?"

He scoffs, picking up the bags. "I don't know. I don't know what happened. All we can do is try again."

"Remember, I can only use O negative blood." Herschel raises his brows. "Nothing else."

"O negative. Got it."

"Be careful."

"We always are."

I watch the bullet roll around.

Herschel put it in a little plastic container after the surgery last night. So, this is what almost killed him, then. When I was littler, I used to think my Dad was invincible. I thought nothing could ever bring my big, strong Dad down, but it turns out it can, and it don't even gotta be bigger than my pinkie finger to do it, either. This tiny little bud of golden metal put my Dad on his death bed.

I'm watching the sun bounce off its curves when I hear footsteps approaching in the grass.

When I look up, I see Shane, alone, pointing to the picnic bench I'm sitting at.

"This seat taken by any chance?"

Be careful with Shane, Dale told me.

"No," I tell him, setting the bullet down. "You can sit 'ere."

He takes a seat beside me and asks, "What're you doin' fiddling with that thing?"

"I don't know." I smile, feeling a little silly. "I's just lookin' at it."

"Well, how 'bout this? I got somethin' better for you to do."

He lifts up the small bag he brought with him onto the table.

"What that?"

"You didn't think I forgot about our deal, right?" He grins, scattering the contents in front of us. A sketch pad with a unicorn on the cover falls out first, and then a bunch of rainbow markers, pencils, and even some craft glue and sparkly sequins. "Borrowed it all from that girl, Beth."

I laugh, probably for the first time in days. "Woah, Shane!"

"Better than that scummy old bullet, huh?" He nudges me, opening the book to a blank page. "Not sure I'm any good, but I'll try my best."

"What do you wanna draw?"

"Anything you want."

"Let's..." My first thought is a card for my Dad, but that's stupid. Shane don't wanna make that. "Um..."

"Can't make up yer mind?"

"No, it's just— I wanna make somethin' for my Dad."

Surprisingly, he doesn't react the way I expected.

"'Course ya do, sweetheart. Come on, then. I'll help you."

"Really?"

"Anything you want. That's what I said, right?"

"Okay, then." I giggle, copying him as he grabs a marker and uncaps it. "His favorite color's black, but that's ugly. Let's do flowers."

"Yes, ma'am."

"A field of flowers." I enthuse. "And a walker in the middle, but dead, 'cause Dad killed it."

"He's real good at that, huh?"

"Yep."

"Alright, then. You're gonna have to walk me through it, though, 'cause I don't know what I'm doin' here."

Laughing, I get started in pointing out all the places I think flowers would look best on the page, picking out which colors to use, like green for the grass and yellow for the sun. Shane goes along with all of it, just happy to be spending time with me. I really don't get what Dale's talkin' about. I even teach him how to draw a flower. My Dad's never colored with me, before. We never did things like that. He'd rather take me on a hike, or skip stones with me at the local playground pond. When I drew him pictures, he'd put 'em on the fridge and tell me they're nice, but that's about it.

I think it's awful nice of Shane to be making this card for my Dad. I guess he's decided to put their differences aside for a minute.

"Thanks for not tellin' me no." I say, filling in a petal. "I thought you were gonna."

"'No' to makin' your Dad a card?"

"Yeah."

"Why's that?"

Shane always does this. He asks questions he already knows the answer to, 'cause he wants to see what you say.

"I'on know," I shrug, shy; a little embarrassed. "I don't think you like him very much."

"No?"

"No. You punched him."

He hums.

I continue. "And you think he's mean."

"Yeah? Why's he mean?"

"He, like, yells sometimes." I mutter, focusing on coloring. "He gets angry."

He just hums again.

"And you don't like him 'cause he hits me, and you think he shouldn't do that. You think he's a bad Dad."

He corrects me. "I don't think he knows how to be a Dad at all, Harley."

"What about you? D'you know?"

There ain't nobody that teaches you this shit, Harley, my Dad once told me, You think you came outta the womb with a manual attached?

"Well, I've never had a kid, before, Harley." He tells me. "That was always Rick's thing. We used to go to school together, you know that? Kindergarten, all the way up to police academy. When Carl was born, I used to think about havin' my own, but it just never happened."

"Why not?"

"Kids are a lot of responsibility. I wasn't ready for that."

"What about now?"

"Am I ready for a kid?"

"Yeah."

He glances at me, then back to the paper, but doesn't answer.

I look up at him. "What is it?"

He nods at the packet of sequins.

"You wanna have a go stickin' them on?"

I pause. Yeah, I guess I can have a go.

"Dad don't like glitter, though."

"It's a gift from his daughter." Shane scoffs. "He can deal with it."

"You like glitter?"

"Can't say I'm a huge fan, but if you gave me a glittered-up card, it'd be my favorite thing I owned. I can promise you that."

That makes me smile. "I can make you one, if you want."

"Nah, that's okay, sweetheart. This is all 'bout your Dad, right now."

I smear a whole lotta glue on the corners of the page, sprinkling the little plastic pieces onto it after.

"Rick's gone back to the college." I muse. "And Andrea. They're gonna find blood and medicine for my Dad."

Shane shifts uncomfortably on the bench. That's what he was supposed to do. He failed. Now, other people have to make up for what he did, and if they come back with even one thing from the list, that's gonna look real bad for him. Not only did he get someone killed, but he did it for nothin'.

"Rick's tough. Andrea, she's a good enough shot." He clears his throat. "They'll make it back in one piece."

"I just hope they don't get caught in that herd like you and Otis."

Apparently, they got swarmed. Easy to believe, given the hundreds of walkers been followin' us down this way.

"They won't be. They're smart."

I joke, "You sayin' you were dumb?"

"Hey," He smirks. "Watch yourself."

"I'm just sayin'. How come you let yourself get surrounded?"

"Happens fast, Harley. You know that."

Sure happened fast on the highway.

"Must'a been awful." I frown. "All them walkers... Otis."

"Had to happen." Shane shrugs.

"I know. But he still died, Shane. Don't matter what for."

"You don't think it matters to his family?"

"Well, yeah, but not to us. Dead is dead, and dead's awful. You don't gotta pretend."

He shakes his head, like I just don't get it.

"No. No, if I could go back in time, Harley, I wouldn't change a thing."

I glance at him, then. His jaw is set tight as he scribbles a red blotch onto the page, staring into its chaotic epicentre. If he said that to any of the Greenes, oh, they would'a slapped him. You're supposed to be sad when someone dies. Shane looked a little down at the funeral, but now he just looks angry. I wanna warn him he's gonna tear a hole in the page if he presses down any harder, but the words get stuck in my throat.

"I don't think you should tell anyone else that." I murmur, awkward. "Especially not Patricia."

He don't stop 'till the pencil nib snaps.

"Damn it." He mumbles, tossing it.

I did it, was all he kept sayin', I did it.

"What'd you mean, last night, anyway?"

"Huh? What did what mean?"

"I did it." I quote. "You just kept chantin' it, over and over. What's it mean? What'd you do?"

He turns his glare onto me.

"You sure I said that?"

I think back to that moment. Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure.

I nod.

"I don't remember." He disagrees. "I was all outta sorts that night. Still am, to be honest."

"But you said it. I heard you."

"Well, I'd just escaped Hell on Earth, Harley. I barely made it out alive. I drove back here like a crazy man; just watched a man get eaten alive. 'Course I'm gonna be shocked I made it; shocked I did it. That's all I meant. Ain't nothin' to stress over."

I sigh. "Are you sure?"

"I ever lied to you?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, there you go."

It's only now I notice Dale on the roof of the RV. He's supposed to be on watch, but the only thing he's watchin' is us. I choose to ignore him in favor of finishing the get well soon card, hating the stiff silence that follows.

My eyes eventually wonder over to the container, and the stubby bullet inside.

I begin to frown.

Wait a minute.

Hunting accident, was what Rick told everyone.

"Shane, what type of bullet is that?" I ask, even though I already know.

Beside me, he stops coloring so abruptly that it's like I just electrocuted him.

Now I'm really lookin' at it, I can't believe it took me this long to notice.

"Harley," He says when he sees what I'm staring at. "Harley, I can explain."

I don't wanna hear it.

I know what type of bullet that is.

"Harley, wait."

It didn't come from no damn hunting rifle.

That's a pistol bullet.

I slam the door shut.

"Woah, hey. What's going on?" Glenn asks, slumped in a chair beside Dad's bed. "What's wrong?"

"Get out." I whimper, shaking my head. I go straight for the window; yank the curtains shut so hard they screech. "Get out, Glenn."

"Why? What's—?"

"Just fucking get out!"

He jumps up at that, and I only see a glimpse of him scurrying out the door before I dive onto the bed, crying and hiccupping and groaning angrily as I lift the covers. I curl up underneath them, into my Dad's side. It wasn't a rifle bullet. It was a pistol bullet. It wasn't Otis. It was Shane. My friend, have-I-ever-lied-to-you Shane. He shot my Dad and then he lied to my face about it, all while making a card that wouldn't even exist if it weren't for him in the first place. I hugged him. He hugged me back. I cried on him. I don't want my Daddy to die, I wailed, but it was him that did it.

The door opens just minutes later. I hear his combat boots thumping as he runs around the side of the bed.

"Get away from me." I try hitting him through the blankets, but he just pulls them off and grabs me. "Fuck off! I knew it was you!"

"Harley." He shakes his head. "Harley, ssh, ssh, ssh."

"You lied to me—"

"No, no, no, ssh, ssh, ssh."

"Don't tell me to shush!" I snarl, batting at him. "You— You— You shot my—!"

"No." He shakes me. "No, I didn't. Harley, I didn't."

"Yes, you did!"

"No." He growls, glancing at the door, then back to me. "Listen to me very carefully, Harley Dixon. I did not shoot your Dad."

"No? Then who's damn bullet was that?!"

"Keep your voice down."

"Who's was it?"

"Jim's, Harley. Jim's." His eyes are wide; some type of crazy in 'em as he really drills this into me, almost whispering, but also shouting at the same time. "Remember that day you came back, told everyone what happened? You gave me exact directions on how to get to that guy's camp, remember? Follow the creek, left at the big rock, go through the trees 'till you hit an old fence post. See? You told me that. I remembered. Your Dad wanted to go kill him. First time I ever saw eye to eye with that man, and I gave him the location, and we left together, Harley. Together."

I keep shaking my head, but Shane's lip curls.

"Yes. Yes. Listen to me. We left together and we found his camp. Green tent, right? Music playing?"

H-H-How's he know that?

"Wh—?"

"He wasn't there, but his tracks were. Your Dad followed 'em. We found him in a house, damn near starved to death. He was beggin' us to spare him some of ours 'till he clocked our faces. He was mad. Real mad. Hell, I would be, too, if I got tied up and left for dead. He did it. Jim shot your Dad."

"You're lying." I pull a face of disgust. "You're lying, I know it."

"Yeah? Yeah, how you know?"

"'Cause Dale says I gotta be careful around you. And Rick pretty much don't even believe you, neither! He's basically your brother!"

"To Hell with Dale." He shrugs, shaking his head and grinning, like this is no big deal. "And Rick — Rick's an idiot. You know that."

"When we heard the shot, he said it was you! He said that, in front of everyone!"

"Well, he was wrong. It was Jim."

"Then why'd you go and tell everyone it was Otis, huh?"

"Well, I— It's—"

"Just get outta my face, Shane." I shudder, pulling the covers back over my head, hiding away. "I don't wanna be your friend, anymore. Get out."

I don't care if it was Jim, or Shane, or the damn Easter bunny who shot him, at this point — I just wanna be alone. I don't know what to believe. Like I said, Shane's smart, so he don't push his luck. He leaves almost right away, closing me away in my own den of grief with a soft click of the door. I hear him talking to everyone out there, probably explaining everything away like he can so easily do. I'm emotional, he'll say, Just leave it.

When I pop my head back up, I spot the card sitting on the side table.

Get well soon, it says.

In a fit of rage, I snatch it up and I rip it to pieces.

It falls to the floor like confetti.

Rick and Andrea come back while I'm eating dinner on the porch.

It's soup that Maggie made for me — Potato and leek. Someone must've told her my favorite kind — 'cause it turns out I was right. Shane did tell everyone I was upset. Apparently, the funeral was just too much for me, on top of everything else. I'm too sad to be angry about that, 'cause it just proves that he really is a liar, after all. I set the bowl down as they pull up to the house, and Maggie and her Dad come out the front door as soon as they hear the car engine, cautiously excited for the news we're about to get. Maggie helps me out of the chair, rubbing my shoulders.

The car door shuts. We not only see Rick and Andrea, alive and well, but also two big, full bags on their shoulders.

"We got everything." He calls out to us, smiling. "Every last thing."

My jaw drops.

"Praise God." Herschel mutters.

Maggie grins down at me. "You hear that, Harley?"

"Y—" I smile wide. "Yeah."

She leaves my side to help Andrea bring the bags up the stairs.

"The penicillin?" Herschel shakes his head. "The gauze, the syringes, the disinfectant?"

"All of it." Says Rick. "Even threw in some reception desk candy, too, just 'cause we could."

"That's incredible. How?"

"Place was deserted." Andrea tells us. "We only had to take out five or six before we were the only ones around. Surgical labs, just like you said."

"Praise God," He says again. "I'll start re-dressing the wound right now."

"Here you go."

Rick passes him the bag, and everyone else goes back inside as he leans against the railing. Behind him, the sun cinematically sinks in the sky.

I sit back down.

I can't believe they did it.

"Thank you, Rick."

He looks a little sad when I say this, but happy, at the same time.

"You're welcome, Harley. You're very welcome."

For the first time ever, I'm alone with Rick and all I feel is peace.

Author's Note.

Daryl still hasn't woken up. I'm sorryyyyy 🙏He will, very soon. I promise! I'll try to make it everything you're hoping for and more :) Things are gonna be different between Harley and Daryl from now on.

(AKA not depressing.)

Shane's still manipulative as ever. Boo to him.

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sending lots of love! :)

#the walking dead #twd #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daddy issues #parent daryl dixon #rick grimes #shane walsh #angst #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #reader

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aberooski · 2 years

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Haven't watched OG YuGiOh in years but omg you are so right about Tristan 😭

Fr that boy is such a ride or die and the biggest supporter and literally carries the squad on his back constantly. Tristan is the team protector, a voice of reason, a strong, steadfast, and steady rock for them to lean on. All he wants to do is help support and protect his friends and because he's not a duelist he has to sit on the side and let them do their thing and gets pushed to the backburner but that doesn't stop him from trying to help anyway if there's an available route for him to do so.

Like the whole Mokuba situation during the Pegasus duel (which according to my limited knowledge of the manga he does his little Metal Gear Tristan shit during the equivalent of episode 28 literally my favorite episode so like way earlier which is wild to my anime dominant brain), he undertakes that optional sidequest because he thinks it could help make the situation better for Yugi if Pegasus doesn't hold all of the proverbial cards in the event that he can reclaim Seto and Mokuba's bodies. Which of course he does manage to rescue Mokuba, but therein lies the Yami Bakura shit. That bitch is trying to get Mokuba too but for more nefarious reasons, and Tristan the absolute king fuckin HOODWINKS this bitch. Like straight has him believing he's gonna just hand Mokuba's body over, and thus he throws Mokuba's soulless little baby body at him, karate chops him in the neck, and fucking trebuchets the Millennium Ring into the woods like a frisbee. And Yami Bakura is D O W N. Literally everybody thought he was straight up gone for the longest time afterwords. Tristan really did that. Plus, he did it to stop him from controlling bby gud boi Bakura 🥺. A+ friend right there my guys.

Not to mention all the other shit he did for the squad during Duelist Kingdom alone, lest we forget the time he tried to punch a boulder that even though was fake, they thought it was real at the time and for the sake of

1: avenging Bakura who they thought was fuckin dead because of the boulder balloon

and

2: trying to save Yugi and Téa as well as himself so they could make it out to find Joey and make sure he was okay.

Like fr he was coming to Joey's defense the entire season. A trend of course that would continue the entire anime 😌👍

Also side note: if I needed somebody to beat up some guys for me you better believe I'd be calling Tristan. I'd sooner call up Tristan to punch a guy in the face than Joey or even Seto. Assuming the bastard would even take my call at all much less actually show up 🙄 Because seriously Tristan has a better track record for beating people up successfully than anybody else in that damn show. Mans took down a whole ass group of Rare Hunters BY HIMSELF in season 2 and Joey got his ass fuckin kicked by them. Granted he had Téa around at the time to protect and worry about but we're not talking about them rn This man would have gladly thrown hands with both Odion and even fuckin Yami Marik if he'd been given an opportunity, I have full confidence in that thought.

Also let us repeat that he fuckin took Yami Bakura O U T in season 1. Literally nobody else could ever. And that's not even the last time he’d throw hands with the man either, Tristan straight clocks Thief King Bakura in season 5 and like even impresses him in the process and gets himself possessed because he thinks Tristan could be useful to him like 😩😩😩 he has more run-ins with Yami Bakura than like anybody else on the show and like majority of the time comes out successfully safe or is even straight up helped out by the guy. Anyone else could never.

I'm calling Tristan if I need to be bailed out of a tussle.

If I rant any longer I'll never stop, so yes, um, I love Tristan. Joey may be my favorite character and the love of my life but Tristan is the best boy and he deserves the entire world and everyone takes him for granted and devalues him and he deserves a nap and a sandwich for carrying the group on his damn back for 236 episodes. Thank you and goodnight.

#yugioh #tristan taylor #hiroto honda #I will defend this boy to the death #I swear I cannot rest until his praises are sung more because fucking shit y'all #but I digress #Tristan is the best and deserves all of our love and kisses #answered #yami bakura #ryou bakura #mokuba kaiba #seto kaiba #joey wheeler #tea gardner #yugi muto #yami yugi

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mx-lamour · 4 months

Text

Hauntings of the Mind

Some personal meta/background for Bloodstain/"It's all right." (and that last sonnet):

My best friend and guardian died when I was 8-1/2 years old. At night, before I fell asleep, I would usually see him walk past my door, doing his rounds of the house to make sure everything was as it should be.

I watched him die. It wasn't my hand that killed him, wasn't even my choice to make, but somehow I felt responsible. It wasn't even my first dead body, or even my first dead loved one, but it was the first time I'd witnessed the spark of life leave someone's eyes. The first time I'd felt the breath leave someone's body under my touch and not come back.

When I tell you my best friend and guardian was a cat, it doesn't matter. When I tell you he was 18 years old and ready to go, it doesn't matter.

I bargained with whatever god would listen to give him back to me. He wasn't even mine; he'd been my dad's best friend since he was a kitten. My pleas went unanswered.

My mom has told me her story of taking care of her father through his struggle with cancer. There came a point when it was clear he was never going to make it, but it was near Christmas time, and my grandpa was a stubborn fiend who refused to die on what was supposed to be a joyful occasion.

When January came, my mom bravely went to him and said, "It's okay, Dad. You can go now."

That was my first funeral. I was two years old then. And, according to my mom, I wouldn't leave the casket's side. This explains why I have such a vivid memory of looking down on my grandpa's waxlike hands holding a red rose. My grandpa loved roses. He tended them.

That's beside the point.

Around the time I was 13, I started having dreams that someday I would have to kill my romantic partner, whoever that would be. It wasn't so self-direct. I was a daydreamer and a reader of books, so I would make up stories. But sometimes they were only scenes.

And one of those scenes which plagued me was the image of someone kissing their lover, then stabbing him in the gut. They didn't want to do it; they had to. Tears streaking down their face, they apologized while the dying one looked on in shock.

I never really made the connection as to why.

Now, I'm married to a man who is nearly always struggling. He's chronically ill and terribly intelligent and horribly depressed. Inside of all that muck is a sweet, imaginative little boy who long ago lost his brother and his faith in all things. Now a grown man, he's also practical. Pessimistic. A bit obsessive-compulsive. He DM'd our Curse of Strahd campaign.

We both fear abandonment.

When his thoughts have taken a dark turn, as they sometimes do, he considers giving himself over to death. To not have to try anymore.

Early on, this terrified me. "But I'm here," I would think, never realizing my mistake, that it had never helped before.

And sometimes that image would come back to me unbidden: Would I have to kill him myself one day? If I couldn't bear the thought of him hurting himself, but if there was also little choice left in the matter, would I do the work for him, to retain some modicum of agency in our doomed relationship? There seemed to be little else I could do.

This was, of course, very distorted thinking. And I never did do that thing, and I suspect we never will go through that. We're getting better. And we're changing side-by-side.

But there were several times, probably yearly if I would have been keeping track, possibly close to the anniversary of his brother's death, when I wondered if and when I would be forced to put the man I love out of his misery.

Because I know what grief is. And I know regret, and rage, and despair. I know it hurts. And I know it's exhausting. I know.

And with the amount of perseveration that goes on in my anxious autistic head (or did, especially before I'd done any real healing, myself) I know that the inability to fix your own tragic mistakes, to correct for factors you couldn't have known about is devastating.

I know how an event can haunt you into eternity, throwing you into a repeat of that same moment, again and again, from something so little as the passing of a number on a calendar page, and still leave you bereft of any real closure.

The window glass is so horrifying because, even though you can see tragedy unfolding on the other side, there is little you can do about what you cannot touch, whether what you're reaching for is the past itself or the despair clouding another person's mind and heart.

#lamour stories #personal anecdote #gothic #dark powers #gothic romance #curse of strahd #backstory #creative writing #fanfic writing #i strahd #psychology #thought distortions #grief #death #write what you know

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fromchaostocosmos · 6 months

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I know that nuance is not the most popular thing on this site with large portion of its users, but I need to get some of my thoughts and feelings out. So I'm going be doing so using nuance and Dialectical Thinking.

For those who do not know Dialectical Thinking is one of the pillars of Dialectical Behavioral Therapy and it is the concept that two or more opposing thoughts and/or feelings can be true at the same time.

Using this I want to about my thoughts and really my feelings about a lot of the stuff I'm in regards to Henry Kissinger's death.

To be clear I do not in anyway condone anything he has done, want to diminish the pain and trauma he caused, the impact his choices have had, or whitewash his history.

With that all said I will begin: (Each indention set is meant to show a thought/feeling)

Henry Kissinger is/was a bad person. The things he did are repugnant and immoral. According to the very morals and ethics I hold for myself and use as my guide that is true. Being that I am Jewish and hold to Jewish values, ethics, morality, and philosophy to help shape me, using those metrics he is deeply immoral, unethical, cruel, and vile person.

I can understand why those impacted, hurt, traumatized, affected by him and his choices are happy he dead, even celebrating his death. This does not bother me.

I am deeply uncomfortable seeing so many people celebrate the death of a Jewish person. Especially the one that compare him to a demon and/or say he will be in Hell because of the history of Jews being called demons, told we will go to hell, told we belong in hell, the long xtian antisemitism of Jews being servants of satan, etc as well as Jews often having our Afterlife stripped from us.

The way that predominantly white people on both the right and left doing this weird stanning and reverse stanning (stanning but instead of loving/liking it is hating) of real people gets so creepy and makes them not treat the people like are real and thus their is nuance and complexity because people are complex (this is not me condoning any people of immoral and unethical actions). There is just so much all or nothing thinking/black and white thinking rather trying to see the whole picture. Like take Trump for example. To one side he is perfect and can do no wrong and on the other he is evil bad man. Now I don't think he is good person by any means, I think he should be in jail. I also think he deeply insecure person, and someone who is very petty, and is kinda pathetic. He is someone who should never be allowed near any real power. It is a shame he never got therapy early on in his life it would have done him wonders. But as horrible as person I think is, I don't think is some evil mastermind. I think that he surrounds himself with sycophants. I think that a certain amount of the policies and beliefs that Trump pushes comes from sycophants who are savvier then him and have certain agendas they want. We saw that with Roe v. Wade's overturning. I'm highly doubtful that was Trump original idea.

I do not have a conclusion just some thoughts and feelings that I needed to get off my chest. I am open to hearing what others think and/or feel all I ask is that everyone try to respect each other, do not whitewash Henry Kissinger impact, and do not use antisemitism. Thank you.

#henry kissinger #dialectical thinking #using dbt skills #not sure how to tag this

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k-s-morgan · 2 years

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If the intention for Hannibal S4 was to have both an 'inversion of S1' and also 'Will losing his mind', doesn't that seem contradictory? Will was already losing his mind in S1 due to encephalitis and Hannibal's machinations; how then, is it possible to create an inversion of S1 with that in mind? A 'reinvention' I could imagine, but an inversion? It seems like an odd word choice.

Another ask: Do you think if season 4 ever happens that Hannibal will end up turning on Will? Bryan Fuller has stated in interviews that in his script for season 4 it taken another look at their relationship and that Will Graham is not in his right mind and most of it would take place in his broken mind palace. I get the feeling that Will may come to resent Hannibal for breaking him or that Will just may end up being to crazy for Hannibal afterall. What do you think would happen with them?

-----------------------

Since these asks concern S4 and similar ideas, I decided to combine them.

What can I say, anon(s), I absolutely agree that the idea of Will being out of his mind in S4 doesn’t make much sense. We’ve already seen that in S1. The whole point of 3 seasons was for Will to understand who he is and embrace it. He finally does it in the last episode, so I have no idea why Bryan would want to throw him back into the cauldron of uncertainty and self-doubt. That's exactly why I'm satisfied with S3 and don't want S4: I don't want to see more unbalanced Will when his Becoming and the Fall were supposed to signify a start of a new life. There are real arcs that have to develop in a real world, not in a mix of Mind Palace and dreams. Return of ghosts, obfuscation - I have no doubt it would look amazing, but actually seeing it as a plot? Not my idea of what I want from S4.

I don’t think and will never believe that Hannibal could ever turn on Will. Hannibal lives and breathes at his command by TWOTL, he’s been willing to die for Will repeatedly; he was ready to risk spending eternity in prison for the chance that Will might come back to him one day. So this is not an option I consider realistic.

Bryan said a great variety of things about what S4 could be about over the years, to the point where it's nearly impossible to form one coherent picture. But it doesn’t mean we can’t try! Here’s my attempt.

According to Bryan’s words ever since the show ended, here are the major ideas that had to happen in the future:

1) Will being behind the veil with Hannibal, firmly turning away from the ‘light’ side once and for all.

2) Will and Hannibal being in Cuba and having “adventures” as well as going after Margot and Alana together.

3) Mind Palace, hallucinations, and search for self stuff.

4) Will being out of his mind in S4 and being happy in S5.

5) Hannibal manipulating Will in S4.

As a theory: Will is going to feel drunk on his newfound darkness and freedom in S4. He was repressed for so long that now that he Became, he’ll be losing his focus and drowning in his own preferences, forgetting what they were and turning into a much more vicious monster any of us expected. He’ll be chasing the high he felt from killing Francis and failing to find it. He’ll be surrounded by blood, his past victims (hence the return of everyone dead, like Bryan mentioned), and more madness. A part of him will want to impress Hannibal, to prove that he’s a worthy partner (which is supported by Will seeking Hannibal’s approval throughout the show - the way he glances at him after biting Cordell is a good example; the way he has low self-esteem and knows Bedelia failed Hannibal’s expectations). So he’ll be acting more and more violently.

Hannibal will see that Will is losing himself in a new way. He won’t want to start a physical relationship with him (which Bryan mentioned) because he’ll be afraid that it isn't for the right reasons, that Will is too far gone to made decisions. So, he’ll feel like the best therapy would be to push Will even more and make him realize that he’s approaching their new life from the wrong angle, to make him figure out that this isn't the kind of killer he wants to be. To do this, Hannibal’s manipulation will entail them going after Alana and Margot.

Will won’t be fond of the idea but Hannibal will manipulate him into accepting it, intending it as a test that will finally make Will snap out of his state. So Will will initially help hunt them down but then he’ll realize this isn’t what he wants to do. Hence finally getting his mind back and being happy in S5.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #bryan fuller

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sapphos-darlings · 2 years

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on the subject of bi-cycles - how long is "normal" for these fluctuations to take? when i was younger, i was dead certain i was a lesbian. like, the thought of having sex with men sometimes made me nauseated with revulsion. but now as a young adult, i'm questioning again. there's no specific guy i have feelings for, but i find men much better to look at than i once did and am no longer sure if my anxiety about sex with men is natural or fear-based. is it possible to remain on the kinsey 5-6 side of one of those cycles for years?

Hey! Fortunately or unfortunately, bisexuality isn't like a menstrual cycle; it just kind of flipflops according to your specific desires at the time. It's perfectly possible to enter a side of the cycle where you really don't care much for the other sex, and then, well, die on that side of the cycle. The opposite is also just as plausible, that you start at one end of the spectrum, and then later on discover that... hey, that other thing I've never liked before, it's actually kind of hot. That's fine!

Remember that you never have to engage with something you feel hesitant about or that frightens you in the real world, but your imagination is a free-for-all where anything can be possible. Even things you try out in your daydreams, and realise after or half-way through that... yuck, that sucks, actually. And when you meet someone you love or just have the hots for, if the situation feels right and you're both into it, go ahead with it! It doesn't have to be your forever deal, as long as that's what you're looking for. You can be happy existing in-between, or at one side of the spectrum only. For example, while my orientation has settled to be a comfortable split between men and women (and other!) where I can enjoy people of all shapes and forms, I still only want to be in a relationship with someone who is a woman or at least female-bodied, because I do have trauma with male-bodied people, and that's fine. These are your boundaries, and your orientation alone doesn't dictate those. You can make choices about what you want for your life, and what you want to enjoy on your own or in theory only.

So, if you want to "try out" men, do so in your imagination first. Daydream, read fiction, consume art and photography of good-looking men, find out what you like (and if you like it.) Find out what your boundaries are, and explore gently the side of you that's afraid of sex with men. Why is it? Is it because the thought disgusts you, feels like something you don't want, or are there other factors at play? And remember - sex, particularly sex in the real world, is not a prerequisite for enjoying men as a shape of people that exists in the world. You can like men and not want to be physical with them at the same time. That's fine, that's still a valid form of bisexuality.

Finally - if you feel that there's actual fear, trauma, anxiety behind your aversion to the thought of being intimate with men rather than just finding it gross or unappealing, and this bothers you, look into LGBT-friendly therapy. (You know, normal therapy, not the conversion kind. Stay the hell away from anyone with a religious or moral agenda, those people are not here to help you.) Your goal might not, and perhaps shouldn't, be to have a relationship with a man, but if you have trauma (and trauma can be environmental! Growing up in this world can absolutely make you apprehensive towards men even if you personally don't remember ever being directly wronged by one), it's best for you to get to the bottom of that and help you heal and cope with it - whatever that means for you as an individual.

#mod sade #bisexuality #ask

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sandwich2451 · 1 year

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The Violinist, Chapter 10: The Explosion

Chapter ten: The Explosion

"And your eyes and smile are just so bright When I hold you, I just know that we'll be alright."

Vezi, the dumbass that she is, forgot to take her violin with her. That might cause a problem, seeing as according to the planning for the closing ceremony of Outreach Day she was supposed to play a piece by Vivaldi she only knew vaguely - she could improvise, it would be fine, she assured herself.

Xavier looked pretty sullen when he showed up with his umbrella half-closed. Vezi narrowed her eyes at his weird walk, almost as if he'd- no, again? Seriously? "Xavier, were you gaslight gatekeep girlboss-ing the psychic community again?" Vezi asked him. She forced a tight-lipped smile when he didn't reply. "Who was it this time?" "Wednesday," he mumbled. Vezi frowned.

"She's a psychic? What did you say?" He sat down next to Vezi, the umbrella lying at their feet. "Just what my dad says, who actually has a lot of experience with her type of psychic ability." Vezi raised an eyebrow. "Go on." "That visions can be extremely unreliable and-" Vezi cut him off.

"You're stupid, you know that? Don't ever tell a psychic their powers can't be trusted." Vezi gave him a look. "Imagine someone told you your drawings were nonsense." Xavier looked taken aback at the mere statement that his drawings/visions weren't 'real'. "You just did that to her. Dumbass."

The students quieted down once the mayor started speaking into the microphone, grinning like his life depended on it.

"Thank you. It is my honor to celebrate our town's history and Jericho's noble forefather, Joseph Crackstone." Vezi had actually looked into Crackstone - he had burned down an entire farm of shackled outcasts to 'cleanse' Jericho. Doesn't seem like it really work, now, did it?

"Now," the mayor continued, "he believed that with a happy heart and an open ear, there was nothing our town couldn't achieve! So, together, everyone, our community and our friends at Nevermore Academy, we've built a monument to celebrate his memory. Now may the spirit of Joseph Crackstone be memorialized for eternity!" Vezi thought that it would take less than a day before somebody vandalized the statue - which she completely stood behind.

The band started playing Don't Stop, which was something Vezi wish they would, but then she noticed that Wednesday was staring very intensely at - something. When Vezi traced where her eyes were looking, she was taken aback: a, well, a hand, was on the path and it struck a match.

Vezi's eyes widened and she nudged Xavier. "Hand," she simply said, and watched how a trail of whatever-it-was went ablaze, leading right up to the statue. Well, it was certainly less than a day, she supposed. Wonderful.

She shielded her eyes from the explosion with a hand, instead averting them to look at the hand that scuttled away under the benches. She stood up with Xavier, looking at him quickly. "I'm following the hand. Tell Weems I'm not dead, yeah?" Then she started running - that thing was quick for a creature without limbs.

She saw it reappear outside of the yard, flinching at people's feet that almost stepped on it. She ran to it as it continued its way to a side street, pushing past panicked students and other guests at the ceremony.

"You- you bitch of a whatever-you-are," she panted. She couldn't believe she might get outrun by a Hand.

She followed it until it started slowing down, and Vezi immediately crouched down to grab it. She held it up, seeing it sputter against her grip. She used a lower arm to hold the Hand still. She tilted her head in confusion, as it was something she hadn't been laid bare to before. She could look up the Hand's species later.

"You started the fire. You could've burned my arms off, you know." She narrowed her eyes at the hand, that still strained against her grip. She decided to hold it by the wrist instead, after which it started making wild signs. Damn, she didn't speak sign language. Maybe this Hand would be the motivation to start learning. "You're a Hand. Do you have another name? Touch your fingers to your palm if you do." It did.

"Are you from Nevermore?" Again, it touched its fingers to its palm. "Hand, what do I call you?" She grabbed her phone from her pants pocket, opening notes. "Can you type?"

Thing.

"Interesting name," Vezi muttered. "Okay, we're going to go to whoever is your..." Would owner offend Thing, she wondered? "Friend at Nevermore. If you don't show me the way to them, I will leave you in the sewers with three broken fingers." Thing sputtered madly in her hand, almost making her drop him. She turned around after clutching him more tightly again. "To the statue?" Palm touched.

Only a few people were left there, of which only one was a Nevermore student. "Oh," Vezi realized as she saw Wednesday finish up Winter by Vivaldi. "Makes sense." She walked up to Wednesday with a smile. Wednesday scowled at her, until she noticed Thing in Vezi's eyes, which made her eyes widen in surprise.

"Where did you find him? He has nothing to do with this." Vezi laughed. "God, you saboteurs need to start getting less conspicuous. In the path between the benches, really? That stunt could've gone wrong in so many ways." Wednesday stood up. "But it didn't." Then she took Thing and started walking to the buses. Vezi was at her heels.

"I could blackmail you, you know," she continued. "Then blackmail me. I don't care." "You do care, though," Vezi pointed out. "It's just that it's good. Good stunt, by the way." Wednesday's lips quirked up the tiniest bit. "Are you smiling?" Vezi guffawed. "At my expense or at Crackstone's?"

"Crackstone's, obviously," Wednesday replied, and the smile was already gone, but Vezi knew that it'd been there. "You're staring, LeClair." "Like you aren't, Addams?" Vezi responded, and they'd gotten to the bus, where students were cramming themselves into the vehicle like something just exploded. Well, that was what had happened. Vezi couldn't deny that. She boarded the bus, and when it left, all her eyes could focus on was Crackstone's face as it collapsed, melting in the fire.

#wednesday #wednesday netflix #enid sinclair #tyler galpin #wednesday addams #the addams family #fanfiction #oc #fanfic #xavier thorpe

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dirigibleplumbing · 8 months

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Shipper Sam or Clueless Little Brother Sam?

There’s some excellent aspects to both, if Sam is aware of Cas and Dean's pining it means Sam suffers more and Sam's life is suffering and it’s very funny sometime 🫠

On the other hand, Little Brother Sam being miffed (especially at first) that Dean has a friend that doesn’t want to ALSO hang out with Sam and that’s some bullshit according to all younger siblings, because if a younger sibling wants to play all together too you haaavvvveeee to let them 🥺. And Sam getting to the point where Cas is considered his best friend ALSO (by sheer time and proximity rather then any charm on Sam's end or any taste on Cas' lol) but still being a bit miffed that their COLLECTIVE bestie still favors Dean and not Sam, who is way nicer ok? Bah

(Of course we can kinda get both worlds where Sam's aware of ONE of their feelings and thinks it’s unrequited but they still love each other so they’ll figure it out as besties 🥰)

Relatedly, Eileen either needing to be told what's up with the 2 of them, figuring out right away, or knowing before Sam does are all equally good.

Her thinking that it’s some weird angel or American thing that Cas and Dean are Like That only to be told noooo it’s weird and just them

Her figuring it out and then kinda tutting at Sam over him teasing his brother about his BF (f), like he did when he discovered Destiel from the play, and him being like ahhh it’s just a joke, some brotherly banter about Buddies! And Eileen being dismayed that her hot boy friend is a stupid boy like his brother 😔

Or Eileen AND Sam figuring out as dummies together, treating it like a mystery lol

when I'm reading fic, I generally prefer Clueless Little Brother Sam, but I do enjoy some Shipper Sam. as usual, the show wants it both ways with everything: whether destiel is real; whether Dean and Cas have a profound bond or Dean even treats Cas well or at all differently from how he treats Sam; whether *Cas* gives *Dean* special treatment or treats him at all differently from how he treats Sam; whether Sam notices these differences or the eye-fucking or the personal space or any of it. so depending on how it's written, both can work delightfully.

agreed that Sam thinking destiel is unrequited on one side can be the best of both words! I love it in post-15x18 fic where Sam is like "wait, he was in love with you TOO?" or sees Dean's reaction to Cas being in love with him and is like "wait, you didn't know?? WAIT--you love him back!?"

as far as my personal headcanon goes, and the way I'd generally write it unless a specific premise called for otherwise, I see Little Brother Sam being jealous Dean has such a close dude friend that isn't Sam, Eileen also being kinda clueless about it and accepting Sam's word that they're just Like That and it's not romantic/sexual, and then uncovering the big mystery.

there’s also a great middle ground where Sam is aware of *something*, but since Dean and Cas aren’t interested in figuring it out, it’s none of his business unless it causes problems for their work, which it mostly doesn’t (except when Cas is dead, and we see how Sam reacts to Dean’s reaction to that in s13!), and then when Sam sees Dean and Cas being romantic together, Sam goes “OH! that explains it” and is satisfied it’s finally been resolved.

#supernatural #destiel #spn #yay an ask!

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violetsystems · 2 years

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#personal

I'm rereading the future of nostalgia a bit to break up my utter desperation with this country. It's a book ruminating about the fall of the Soviet Union and not an in-depth synopsis of Universal's Back to the future movies. Nostalgia is a longing for a place that no longer exists according to Svetlana Boym. She illustrates this through a story of a man who splashes water on his face from a river he knew as a child. It's now toxic contents scalds his face as he protests while a Russian reporter looks on completely ignoring him. I remember back to the future but prefer the Frighteners myself. When you live in a little panopticon bubble like me you tend to stay inside that cage. This is true especially when your internet friends feed you cheese through the pores. I haven't really been happy in my past for a long time. There isn't really anything nostalgically I'd like to go back to other than Asia. And even then, the person I was during those trips alone back and forth to Japan, China and Korea is vastly different. There's not much I look back to in terms of salvaging. And yet it's this blank time for a lot of people in real life who knew me over the years. I just up and disappeared. I had weeks of paid time off I never took. My friends were always arguing, getting fucked up or wasting money. The people I met along the way seem to root themselves more in my past than me as a person. It seems now everyone in music knows each other and I'm a faded and distant memory. America seems to be that way too lately. I've argued and written on the internet much like a lot of my friends. Just to learn how to handle myself when I'm cornered by either side of the political spectrum about how I feel on a certain hot button issue. Everything except the weather these days it seems. In what people used to call the land of opportunity I see nothing but cheap rent and a constant society of surveillance. For years I wrote here thinking that people would learn just how tortured I've felt. But what I've learned is that people read these sometimes for talking points to use against me. They figure if they read the book they'll eventually figure out a way to get in my head. We know he likes t-shirts. That's how we communicate with him. We know he used to run three years ago when he felt safe enough to do so in public. Let's run around him. We know he wrote something about a riot let's see him put his money where his mouth is. We know he used to be our friend. But he is dead to us now. Incidentally this is how I feel about the United States. It isn't a free country. It maybe never was unless you had money. And yet here we all are because of worthless politicians who bought their way into power telling us one thing but delivering another. It's our job to explain that to people every waking day of our lives as we try to pick up our own pieces.

I've said it pretty bluntly. I believe in freedom and I believe in a woman's right to choose. Even Joe Manchin, the senator from West Virginia says that he believes he was lied to by the Justice's he supposedly held to task over these rights. And yet all these people can do is look woefully at the news cameras and say they are disappointed. Meanwhile they pass legislation benefiting wealth swollen Americans in their seventies with retirement tax breaks. These are all things people down the road will pay for in America when these people are long dead and not choking on the ashes of a dying sun. And yet we sit here paralyzed trying to take a time machine back to fix America. One last hurrah. I keep Facebook on lurk for good reason. I disappeared in a tragic way but my friends are still all out there typing small paragraphs at a time to an algorithm. One specific person who moved to Oak Park was desperately trying to connect awhile back. Through not so many words I found out they work for an abortion clinic. Out there fundraising and claiming secret service agents are protecting them every step of the way. When I look back to the future on people on either side of the political fence, I see the battle lines drawn and unholy alliances formed. And I see how some of these people fraternized with the enemy for the sake of the benefit of the whole. Said person used to hang out with all the skinheads I used to confront in college over their extremist beliefs in the music scene. I recently caught them posting old photos of some of these people. Romanticizing the rudeboy flight jackets, suspenders and shaved heads. One those people in that picture of which mysteriously ended up working at the same job I did at a time. A bonafide white supremacist employed at the art school. Everything and everyone is so delicately connected right? Like you can never escape the mediocrity of these people. They got fired over a sexual harassment incident then rehired by a major financial firm. We're all in this together and we have to accept each other's faults is what America teaches. We have to splash that toxic water on our face and think it's doing good for us. And I just dropped out completely. Or tried to. And now I sit like the enemy who has explained his position for years and finds himself sitting on some sort of bench. Maybe in the stands. Trying to figure out whether or not I really care about the United States at all anymore. Every time I walk out it's a violent game of baseball reminiscent of the warriors. Everyone has to choose a side. This country and freedom that I grew up in was more about nonconformity than anything. That you could have your own ideas and be your own person. And unless you fall in line with one group or another, you are woefully outnumbered.

Populism sucks. Group think has thirty one different flavors in a country who claims you can do anything as long as they can watch. I watch a lot of movies right now. I also spend a lot of time trying to network beyond friends and nostalgia that are long dead to me. Another reason why I focus on tweaking my resume than my mixes for music scenes that are long dead and buried. How can you explain all the time that has passed in the last two years? It gets drowned out by whatever calamity or crisis is in the forefront. It disconnects us from the proper memory of the past and by the time we return, we forget how shitty it all was. We long for a connection that's real and we're afraid to be something different. We follow tried and true revolutions with defined arcs and protests. Everything is performative when people think you can fake it until you make it. And when you make it, it's a fake sentiment that you had any control in the first place. You are always reconnected back to the source for ease of cognitive dissonance. You wish people would forget you like Spiderman in No Way Home. And in that movie, the most powerful thing Peter Parker does is walk away from the things that don't make sense anymore. I love the Otto arc in that movie too. Peter literally just wants to help people be their best. He helps Otto because he believes he can be a better person with a little help. Oddly enough Otto just flies off for half the movie then comes back when you least expect it to save the day. Then disappears himself with a smile. I watched Doctor Strange after just for continuity's sake. I love the little star that America Chavez manifests. She is the only one of her kind in a multiverse of sameness. She has parents that love her and stay together yet she is ripped away from them. She doesn't know how she survives but she instinctively does. She is hunted by a mother with maternal trauma who thinks her babies are more important than her uniqueness. And Doctor Strange dream walks through a dead body to save her. A lot going on there. They travel freely through world's that no longer exist or simply exist beyond human comprehension. They pine and get trapped in what once was with the hope they can change it instead of moving on. I've travelled the world just the same. I wish I could tell you that there was something left to fight for in this town for myself. That there was a place for me here in this country after all this. But I am no longer bound by the multiverse other than the shipping dimension I've come to know and love down here. Nostalgia is basically entrapment. Remember how good it was for me the last two years? It was and still is down here. More so now that I've let go of the past. And it's a sad thing to realize we are not all in this together. Me I'm still here with you just the same. That's love. <3 Tim

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