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estro-gem · 6 months

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Jax x Ragatha: The snake and the water spring

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis.

Author's note: I found this show by chance and I took a great liking to it! So now I did a thing, instead of studying for upcoming exams, because I love making things difficult for myself, apparently.

I have no idea what the fandom is like, but I'm playing it safe just to be... well... safe. I just loved the concept of this show so much that I couldn't help but be inspired by it! It got me thinking and I let it all out in this... thing.

I want to write more one-shot fics about the other characters and how they fit into this au too, but I don't know when I'll be able to.

WARNING! None of these characters are mine and everything mentioned and described is purely made-up fiction; inspired by works that are not my own. Nothing should be considered canon or taken seriously - we are all here to have some harmless fun! No age restrictions. I think this might be appropriate for all ages...?

Please show some love and support for Gooseworx; the creator of The Amazing Digital Circus!

I definitely butchered Gooseworx's characters by adding unnecessary 'relationship dynamics' and deviating from their original personalities. I promise that the actual show and characters are so much better than they are in my false portrayal of them.

SUMMARY:

A fanmade take on the events following Pomni's arrival and after the crew had dinner together. This is focused on Jax's point of view, but still written in the third person.

Jax confronts Ragatha after the pilot episode's 'dinner' and does his best to comfort her in a way that works for them. That's it.

Please enjoy!

THE SNAKE AND THE WATER SPRING

Jax was a desert snake.

Nothing but a cold-blooded pest that lived to find his next meal.

When one is left to die under the scorching sun, you can’t stomp on the sun for creating a desert, but you could stomp on the desert snake if it added to the pain of surviving in said desert. The Digital Realm was nothing but a desert sun – a cage with no exit and an evil with no target.

It was no secret why so many had lost their minds here.

Jax took on the role of being the snake. It was never announced or planned, but it was deemed necessary by all who came to know the realm. The inhabitants of The Amazing Digital Circus craved any sense of control; something they could hold accountable for their torment – something they could punish. A menace, parasite.

Evil with a target: Jax.

It was fun to act out while everybody went about their lives. He could unapologetically be the worst being known to man and thrive on the rage and hatred of all he had affected. If they hated him, he was fulfilling his role perfectly… and that meant they could stay sane and do their parts as he did his. Less people would be lost to insanity… and the group would grow stronger.

Everyone had a role in their system – an oasis was established, with Ragatha as the heart of the oasis; their very own water spring.

But when a new invading creature bursts into the oasis with no knowledge of this system, their system would be doomed. Pomni happened to be that invader. Everyone could collectively, yet silently agree that she was acting by her own careless devices since she arrived a few hours ago. She greedily soaked up their water source and left it barren, dry, and suffering.

Granted, Pomni didn’t know how their oasis worked, but it didn’t change the fact that she disrupted everything by showing up. She would have to catch on quickly and prove herself useful, before anyone else loses their minds.

They lost one of their own already… and they almost lost their beloved Ragatha; Jax’s equal and opposite.

Their precious water source.

Snakes offered venom, while water springs offered hope of life. They all desperately needed Ragatha to survive. While most would assume her to be fine after being fixed by Caine, Jax knew better than that. He saw her reluctantly stand aside Pomni to support her – beautifully acting within her role as she always would, but it was clear that Pomni still didn’t understand how scarce the water was by then. Rags was spread thin enough by handling the extra stress and enduring the continuous pain of being corrupted by the abstraction, but that didn’t stop Pomni from practically having a mental breakdown at the dinner table.

Jax saw that coming from a mile away. Thank goodness he silently took the open seat next to Pomni, silent in his insistence that the ragdoll should keep her distance for the time being. He’d give anything to destroy the little jester for abusing his doll. Ragatha was acting perfectly normal at the time – her masked smile perfectly set on her face – until it was time for them all to retire to their respective bedrooms.

Jax wished that he would’ve just dragged her after him when he booked it from the abstraction earlier today. Pomni would have been the perfect distraction for them to escape and get Caine.

He stood at Ragatha’s door after dinner.

Jax made a point to ring the doorbell this time. Usually, he’d just pluck out a key and saunter in like he owns the place, but with what happened today, he’d make an exception. Everyone has their limit – and someone has already reached their limit today. They couldn’t risk losing another one. Especially not Raggs. They all really needed her.

When she didn’t open, he tried the bell again. Nothing.

Well, time for the key, then.

He shoved his hand down his front pocket and fished out the doll’s room key. The bunny didn’t waste time opening the door. He wanted to see what state the girl was in, despite dreading the possibility of finding an abstracted amalgamation on the other side.

Silence.

Not even a creak was heard from the hallway. The room was lit up as it usually was, so that was a good sign, at least. Jax couldn’t see an obvious black body of eyes – another win. But where was Ragatha? He did see her walk into her room, so she had to be here.

He walked around, keeping his cool, casual composure fixed, despite no one being around. It was effortless at this point. It became a way for him to focus on what he could control in this crazy digital prison; himself.

He couldn’t, however, control his ability to spot a blasted ragdoll, it would seem. He scanned the room again, until his eyes fell on her ¾ bed. Could she-?

The bunny rolled his eyes at himself as he lowered himself onto his knees – maybe he could convince himself that he was not phased by the situation. Bending down, he peered beneath the bed frame.

Jax sighed in exasperation. Or was it relief? Both?

Ragatha was in the state she was in before retiring to her room. No gliching, no extra eyes.

Just Raggs.

She didn’t look good, though. The doll was curled up beneath her bed and blindly staring ahead of her. It didn’t look like she was breathing – not that they needed to anyway, but it was uncanny to see Rags like this. She was their voice of reason. She was a water spring in this desert.

If she dried up, their desert would be doomed.

Jax silently stood up and walked back to the open door again. No need to make a fuss over this. He took hold of the door handle and shut it from the inside. Key in hand, he locked the door and nodded to himself. Ragatha needed a raincloud… and he’d have to fill that role now. It’s the least he could do after leaving her to fend for herself when they found the abstraction today.

Why didn’t she run with him? Why did think she could fix someone whose mind was broken beyond repair? Why didn’t she just leave the rookie as bait?

Because that just wasn’t her role, was it?

If it weren’t for her nature – her role – none of them would have made it this far. It dawned on Jax, once again, how close they were to losing their beloved doll. How close they were to being stuck with an invader who knew nothing about what it took to survive in this hell hole.

Enough.

Back to the bed, crouched down and silent Jax positioned himself to lay down and simply look over the red head from a relative distance. There was enough space for the doll to crawl out of hiding without having to touch him. The bunny still hadn’t said a word. It’d be stupid to talk, and he didn’t feel like making the effort. He just wanted things back to normal again – well… as normal as it could have been.

Now Kaufmo is gone, a new creature was invading their home, tearing it up from the roots and tipping the delicate scales of the balance they worked very hard on creating. All because of a lunatic ringmaster having the bright idea of creating a fake exit-door. Someone better get that jester on a tight leash to get her to fall in line, like the rest of them were forced to.

He knew he, for one, wouldn’t mind roughing her up a bit. It was his specialty – his role. The parasite. The menace. The instigator.

Evil with an actual target.

The sound of shifting and movement had Jax blink out of his own head. Ragatha was slowly and dumbly making her way out from under her bed. Her eyes were still fogged over and her face still eerily blank, but at least she came out of hiding out of her own will. In a matter of seconds, the doll was out from her hiding place and settled on the floor beside Jax. She was staring him in the eyes now, waiting for the bunny, silently pleading.

Jax hadn’t had his aloof-douchebag persona engaged since he locked Ragatha’s door. She didn’t need a menace now – she needed to be grounded; revitalized. She needed a dark raincloud to fill up the water spring they all needed.

He didn’t look forward to what needed to be done, but he wouldn’t allow anyone else to do it.

He moved to stand up and held out a hand to help her up. He took note of the way her hand was shaking when she took his and gently guided her to the bed. The red head was the first to sit, then moved to lay down on her back and numbly stare at the ceiling. With a deep breath, Jax gathered himself mentally and cautiously crept onto the bed and positioned himself to briefly hover over her, before lowering his full weight onto Ragatha.

He had his head in the crook of her neck, on the left shoulder with his ears folding back to floppily droop to his upper back… with his left hand resting on the opposite shoulder. His body, although slim, enveloped hers and caused her to sink slightly into the mattress. His legs just loosely laid over and aside the ragdoll’s. It was more important to have his weight resting on her torso anyway.

For a long moment, they just motionlessly laid on the bed like this. To an outsider, it would look like they fell asleep atop each other or simply cuddled together very closely.

An outsider wouldn’t see that Jax was focused on the slow process of Ragatha’s body relaxing under his weight and her breathing slowing to a regular rhythm. An outsider wouldn’t have known that this was hardly the first time they’d done this – how long it took Jax to learn that this make-shift deep-pressure therapy was the most effective grounding technique for Ragatha to collect herself again.

They wouldn’t understand that Jax didn’t do this out of wanting to, but rather out of necessity.

Jax didn’t like to be touched. If anything, he was very capable of merely tolerating it. Everyone in the circus knew that he was touch-averse; some even used that as leverage to mess with him if the situation called for it. It was a necessity that he endured to keep his doll sane – to keep anyone of importance here in the circus, sane. Their whole lives revolved around mental strength. It was all just a matter of staying sane.

The laid there for what felt like a lifetime.

Slight shifting beside Jax alerted him that the doll was moving her arms – previously stiffly pinned to her sides. This was good, she felt comfortable enough to move around now!

Her left hand gently snaked up to the bunny’s head and slowly, softly petted his ears in a longitude motion. Her right hand wrapped loosely around his middle-to-lower back – motionless. This was bad, Jax did not like being touched like that!

While he was fine with the rhythmic touches of Ragatha’s left hand, he despised the idle position of the right hand resting on his back. He couldn’t prevent himself from tensing up in discomfort.

Bad touch, bad touch, bad-

This caused the ragdoll to tense up and rip her hands off him as if he burned her.

Oh no you don’t! We are not starting all over again.

He slowly pulls away and propped up unto his elbows, hearing Ragatha’s breathing pick up as she presumably spirals into her own thoughts on how he was going to leave her like this. Jax cast down a disapproving look. He broke his gaze to unceremoniously take her right hand – now clutched close to her chest – and intertwined their fingers, before resting his head on her left shoulder once again. He close eyes as he use his free hand to put her left hand on his head again, waiting for her to resume her petting.

Good touch; this was a good touch. Please understand.

Thankfully, Ragatha relaxed… and continued her previous slow, rhythmic motions. Slowly, Jax felt her relax once again and he indulged into her need for touch by stroking his thumb over hers occasionally.

Soon they fell into a rhythm; Ragatha would pet Jax’s ears 3 times, then it was his turn to stroke his thumb over hers. Then they would repeat the routine. This also helped Jax cope with the touching; the routine. The rhythm.

It felt like hours ticked by as the two just practiced their little unspoken routine. Jax grew used to it after a while, almost forgetting that his new mattress was now a sentient ragdoll and completely tuned into their rhythm of touches.

Pet… pet… pet… thumb. Pet… pet… pet… thumb.

Jax didn’t like touch, but he loved routine.

The doll and the bunny’s time together, once nothing but grounding techniques, grew to become an intimate exchange of touches and caresses – all wrapped in a routine, like a dance. Jax felt warm and fuzzy inside; for once he basked in the moment of enjoying his dolly. He lazily wondered if Ragatha felt the same. He shifted his head to look at her.

The doll looked down to meet his eyes when she felt him move. He could swear that she looked at peace, basking in the bliss of their closeness. For some reason, she looked like an angel. They all saw her as their angel. Had he successfully pinned a heavenly body beneath him?

Her gentle, longing gaze made a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupt from his core.

This wasn’t the first time this feeling invaded his being when they did this – as rare as these moments were. He wasn’t sure when he started experiencing such feelings during these rare encounters, but as months crawled by, he felt drawn to his dolly more and more. Based on how she looked at him, he could only assume that she felt it too.

Something so foreign, yet so familiar.

He didn’t fail to spot the warmth rushing to her cheeks when their eyes met. She looked so ethereal beneath him, especially when her breathing picked up under his firm gaze. Her lips were parted, and her eyes were lidded. This time, it wasn’t fear or overstimulation. It was anticipation. It was desire.

Jax internally flinched at the tingly sensation when he smoothly burrowed his face into Ragatha’s neck. She shivered at the breath he let out against her skin. He could tolerate the touching a little longer, as long as he could see her crumble again. He wanted to see her walls crumble again.

“Jax- ”

Oh… he had to hear her again. More clearly, next time. This was torture, but she made him into her own personal masochist. His skin crawled at the sensation of her skin shivering against him, but he needed more. He could take it. Just a little longer – he just had to stand these sensations a little longer. He looked at her again.

Ragatha was reverting to a helpless puddle. The doll’s arms were gripping at the covers beneath her, successfully eliminating the bother of excessive contact that he despised. Jax didn’t know if she did it with that intension or without thinking, but either way, he was thankful. He really wanted more.

Why couldn’t he just be normal?

He lifted onto his elbows again and – dare one say – lovingly looked at her face. She could only peek back at him, breathing slightly faster than usual. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shaky hand rise from the covers and hover next to his cheek, while her eyes pleaded for his mercy. He hesitated but bit the bullet to comply; leaning into her touch while desperately trying to ignore the odd tingles. Jax convinced himself to kiss her wrist and drowned himself in the pleasure of hearing her softly call his name.

He only heard it because he was listening so closely for it.

Yes.

DING DONG

In a flash, Jax braced himself up into a crouch and slammed his foot down with a mighty THUMP upon hearing Ragatha startle into a fit when the doorbell chimed. His hair on his back stood on end and his claws ripped through his gloves, leaving gouges in the covers beside the doll’s head.

His precious doll was disturbed again!

He heard her soft cry of fear and his blood boiled with a thirst for vengeance. Only he can make her cry out. He’ll skin the soul that dared to-

“Ragatha…? Can we talk?”

That DAMN jester!

“Jax?” a quiet voice trembled in his ear from beneath him. Jax stopped glaring at the door to softly glance down and see what his little doll wanted.

“Don’t…” Raggs sounded like she was begging while being held at gunpoint, whispering despite their rooms being enchanted to not hear anything from the outside when the door is shut.

Jax wouldn’t dare let that thing inside. Raggs was upset enough as it is.

“Look, I know it probably wouldn’t make a difference…” Pomni’s voice came from the other side door again, “…but I’m so sorry for running off… Again… I saw that exit and I had to see if it was real. No one else believed me and I started to think that I was losing my mind. You understand that, right?”

Jax placed both his hands down on the mattress, blocking the doll’s view of the door as if it could block the sound of the voice from reaching the Raggs’s ears, still hovering over her. He knew that his dolly didn’t want to hear anything the harlequin had to say now – he had half the mind to get up and bash the newbie’s head in.

“I hope we can talk about this some time. You are probably tired after such a long, crazy day.” Pomni’s voice died down near the end, “It feels like you’re the only good person here.”

She really is, but she’s too good for you. Selfish leech.

Jax looks down to the girl, still stiff as a board beneath him. Her eye was shiny with the swell of tears. He melted at the sight – anger simmering down. She was just a sweet little rag dolly, she didn’t deserve any of this, but oh, he was so happy to see Ragatha finally emote something again. She was OK again. Their water source was filled once again, now threatening to spill over. He’d happily welcome the flood.

He needed her.

The sound of fading footsteps causes Jax to rip his eyes to the direction of the door. His hearing was better than the dolls, probably thanks to being a rabbit.

Good riddance.

Ragatha seemed to relax at the sight of Jax deflating his stance, reading that Pomni probably left her door. She hesitantly reached up to cup Jax’s cheek. Jax followed her hand’s motion and scoffed, cringing at the invasion. He’s had enough touching for a week. It sucked to leave his doll so soon after being distressed again, but he couldn’t bring himself stand any more of this. He quickly got up and smoothed out his clothes, but not without missing the flash of hurt in the doll’s eyes. He felt bad, but he had to be strong with the new girl around, so straining himself now would only make matters worse and mess up the whole system.

Still, seemingly bored, Jax stood in his spot while rocking on his heels and looking off to the side, only sparing her a glance. Raggs sat up by then. She looked a little worse for wear, but it’s an improvement from hiding under her bed. She rested her elbows on her knees with her chin in her hands. The hurt in her eyes was long gone, but she looked tired. Poor thing, Jax shared the sentiment.

He felt her eye bore into the side of his face and the bunny couldn’t stop himself before he rolled his eyes and looked to her again. He could’ve choked on air when he saw her face, but the years of steeling his demeanor left no trace of his inner turmoil.

Raggs sported that longing look in her eyes again.

They were so close this time – closer than they’ve ever been before. Each time they spent together on nights like this, although few and far between, they grew closer… and hungrier. Neither understood what it was, but they never had the chance to just collapse into it, tonight being the closest to that.

But there was always something, right?

Jax allowed gaze to soften. His doll offered a small smile that almost ripped his heart out if his chest. It was drenched with melancholy of something she knew they could never have.

Because their roles in their little ecosystem didn’t allow for it to ever be theirs. It would never work.

This was survival.

The rabbit steeled his demeanor once again, but this time, his doll’s face didn’t fall.

Good, as it should be.

Jax walked to the door and fished out the key from his front pocket. He didn’t bother looking back. If he did, he wouldn’t have the will to leave anymore. When he opened the door, though, he couldn’t help but mumble out teasingly.

“See yah later, Doll~!”

He wished that he could shout his affections for her out into the void instead.

“I’m not your doll.” Ragatha responded, voice still wobbly and tired, but perky regardless. She knew just how to indulge him.

Yes, she is… she always will be.

Fanart: Evil with a target

Oasis: TADC AU list

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ratedfleur · 1 month

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matthew's biceps are in the fore front of my brain since he went on that cooking live!!! now i'm thinking matthew likes wearing compression shirts or sleeveless tops when he knows he will see/hang out with noona!reader. he likes flexing his muscles knowing he will make you insane??? he's unapologetic about it. he likes pressing you to the wall and carrying you while fucking simply to show off his strength and enjoying how you hold on to him. he eats up your pretty little whines for him. he just can't help himself wanting to show off his gym bod and making sure to remind you he isn't a little kid anymore.

— 🍸

i just knows he goes crazy when he sees her eyeing him and his biceps, tongue peeking out of the seams of her lips to lick her bottom lip, eyes fixated on matthew's arms.

matthew gets impatient when you don't do anything, attempting to stop yourself from letting your intrusive thoughts take over so matthew pulls you to him before dragging you into his room, pressing you against the vanity that he has in his room before pushing off your bottoms before doing the same with him, slipping his cock into your cunt before wrapping his arm around your neck, squeezing your neck just in the slightest way that has you gasping when your eyes land on his bicep on the mirror.

#mikha’s asks.#mikha's [🍸] anon #zb1 #zb1 matthew #kpop smut #zb1 smut #kpop hard hours #zb1 hard hours #matthew x reader #matthew smut #matther hard hours #matthew hard thoughts

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swaps55 · 9 months

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I lost my friend to cancer yesterday.

I’d really like to tell you about her.

We meet people throughout our lives who change it, in big ways and small ways, and ways we will never forget. Sara/ @dearophelia was one of those people for me.

I met her here, on tumblr, about 10 years ago. I wish I could remember what piece of writing I stumbled onto first, but she was such a gifted writer that I immediately wanted to see more. I somehow wound up following her live blog of a road trip, which was full of uproariously snarky jokes about Ohio. I had the courage to reach out and tell her how funny I thought she was, and how great her username was to this fellow Mass Effect fan who lived right down the road in Kentucky and got all the Ohio jokes.

We talked. We chatted. I introduced her to a group of people I played Mass Effect 3’s multiplayer with. She grew from a level one first-timer to a total badass who could carry a team and taught other people how to do the same thing.

And then my life fell apart.

Everything fell apart for me. Turning to my family wound up being a catastrophe, and I didn’t have local “real world” friends I could turn to.

So I texted Sara. Told her I needed somewhere to go, and asked if I could stay with her that weekend.

She texted back, “Yes.” Sent me her address, and said to ping me when I got there. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t ask why. She just gave me shelter. So I showed up on her doorstep, and she listened while I told her everything. She didn’t judge me. She didn’t think I was insane. She had every right to think both things. Instead, she gave me safe harbor at a time when I had no control over my life and didn’t know what was going to happen to me.

For the next several months, I made frequent trips up I-75 to Ohio. She kept an air mattress out for me. We played multiplayer. We talked about Mass Effect. We talked about life. We bitched about all the people who hated on one of our favorite characters. She introduced me to Babylon 5. I have so many memories of sitting on the couch in her apartment, with her cat Odo crawling around behind my head. When I eventually pieced myself together enough to leave Kentucky and start the work of starting over, it meant leaving behind that sanctuary with her in her apartment, and it was something I had to grieve along with everything else.

And now I am grieving it again, and so much more. I am so lucky I was able to fly back to Ohio a few weeks ago while I had the chance. Hugging someone goodbye, knowing it’s the last hug you’re going to get….well, it sucks.

But I got that hug.

Sara was so many things. She was a gifted storyteller with entire worlds in her head. One of the weekends I stayed with her, she had recreated the Mass Effect galaxy map on her wall with notecards and string to help her tell a story. She could create a character and make you fall in love with them in a matter of sentences. Because of her stories, I binge watched all ten seasons of Stargate SG-1.

She was also not afraid to unapologetically be herself. I had a lot of things to learn and unlearn about the world, feminism, gender, and sexuality, especially in those days. Listening to her fight for her space in the world and refuse to be told she was anything less than who she wanted to be helped me learn some of the things I needed to learn, and embrace the things I discovered about myself.

She loved music. She made the best fucking playlists. She taped inspirational notes around her condo. She sent me a set of coasters that say, “Fuck It,” and “Nah,” and I use them every single day. Her smile was gorgeous. She lit up a room.

And now she’s gone. I won’t see her in my tumblr notes anymore. I won’t see her on my dash. I won’t get pinged with new Odo photos. She won’t get to hear the new music I listen to that shows up in our Spotify blend. I won’t get to talk about the next Mass Effect game with her. I won’t get any more Ao3 updates in my inbox.

I wanted you to know about her – this pocket friend of mine who impacted my life in ways that I won’t ever forget.

I hope you will read her stories. Listen to her playlists. She was a brilliant human being. She should still be here. She isn’t.

And I miss her.

#dearophelia #write your way out #cancer tw #death tw

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roryhastoomanyfandoms · 10 months

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There are many interpretations of the. Miguel and Gabriella and Miguel situation ans ALL OF THEM ARE GREAT but like...have my 2 cents...just hear me out...

Miguel in canon is an asshole in a major way largely because of his abusive upbringing, getting Eldest Daughtered from a young age trying to take care of his younger brother and protect him from George's violence and Conchata's...indifference/contempt? And he starts getting better once he becomes Spiderman, or at least starts thinking more about the consequences of his actions, and what the people in his life mean to him (shit still goes bad because his comics are insane)

If dad!Miguel never became Spiderman...it's honestly pretty likely he doesn't have that bit of growth and honestly, wouldn't have been a great dad. Not abusive, but I can imagine him being kind of absent and kinda emotionally neglectful, seeing how Miguels everywhere are prone to distancing themselves. Miguel also can't keep a relationship, either by breaking up or Spiderman Branded Widowing, so Gabriella wouldn't have had a consistent mother figure.

Alright, so, Gabriella, here, is being raised by a dad with so much baggage and the belief that its better to just keep her away from it (ei, keep her away from him), no real mom/mom is always changing because of Miguel's turbulent love life, maybe her uncle (depending on. Stuff) and maybe her grandma (depending heavily on Stuff). This is a fragile environment that does love her, but ultimately the adults in her life have too much shit going on themselves to effectively tend to her and her needs, especially as she becomes a tween

But our Miguel.

Our Miguel has every reason to love her wholly and unapologetically. Because he has done some very questionable things to have this child, and he treasures every goddamn second. This is a privilege he has comprised his morals for, and he isn't taking it for granted like Gabriella's actual father.

Meanwhile, Gabriella's dad fucking vanishes one night and the guy who shows up looking close enough to fool adults, he's everything she wanted from her dad. He doesn't raise his voice, doesn't get curt. He doesn't have a new girlfriend every other month. He doesn't have this tense, confused look in his eye whenever he looks at her. The guilt is still there, but it's something else. Its not her dad not knowing how to be better. She doesn't know what it is, but has suspicions.

Her papa looks at her like he's finally figured out how to feel about her, like she's finally stopped being another responsibility or chore to tend to. This one loves her even when she needs help with homework, even when she gets in trouble at school, evening when puberty hormones make her temperamental.

Gabriella doesn't know what happened to the first one, and she never finds out. She just knows that there's something...wrong, with the man she calls Papa now, but he loves her the way she always wanted...so it's fine, right?

Miguel, for his part, sees himself teeter towards their parents. Sees himself have the thing he wants so badly, would do anything for, and skirt the line their parents crossed, their whole lives. And then, that other man with his face dies. Maybe someone else, maybe Miguel really did kill himself.

Either way.

A child gets a parent who loves them, a parent gets a child who they can love freely.

So, it's fine, right?

#TDLR; good!actual dad! Miguel is very fun and heartbreaking but consider Gabriella's OG dad being kind of shitty at being a dad #and Gabriella deciding to compartmentalize all her feelings about her og!dad and his disappearance because. the thing wearing his face?#it loves her so genuinely and carefully. the way she always wanted. so uncomplicated and tender and like shes the world to it #so its easier to pretend its her real dad and her real dad always loved her like this. and she never has to think about it #atsv #miguel o'hara #gabriella o’hara #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #IDK MAN I JUST THINK. I JUST THINK— *shot by snipers*#Gabriella man. this poor girl. she had to have known. Jeff knew it was Miles because you know when your child hugs and says they love you #a child would know if it wasnt their parent hugging and saying they love them. she knew. do you think she was scared?#this poor fucking kid. her poor dad. her poor mimic dad. the poor kid mimic dad took it all out on.#this is like. this isnt generational trauma.#Miguel literally fucking invented interdimensional trauma. whag the fcu #spiderman 2099

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kaelio · 11 months

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I’ve been loving your IWTV stuff but I haven’t watched the show or read the books. What is it about Anne Rice’s writing that makes it so insane?

Okay, I'm going to do a relatively long post probably.

First off, I want to make it clear that my love of her writing is completely unironic. I genuinely think that she is great. So I do want to lay that down because it's foundational to everything else I'll say.

Her writing is insane for a few reasons. The most basic of these reasons is that, I really think that she was intrinsically out of step with contemporary standards of mental wellness. On the other hand, I am not convinced she was as chemically or... neurologically?... insane as she's generally described. She had a lot of Experiences and those experiences fed into a perception of the world that is notable and characteristic, if borderline indecipherable, and it comes through in what she produced.

These books are steeped in very real trauma, and very real trauma that the world directly rewarded her for experiencing. I'm not sure if the rawness of that trauma was why she was so brazen about exposing it in IWTV, but whatever the reason, "story about how my child died and my marriage can't survive and I can't see any reason for living" made Anne Rice a bona fide recognizable author and commercial success. If "vampires are made from trauma", well consider that metaphor to have carried into the real world. Vampires did in fact give Anne Rice power and wealth (and furthermore, I'd argue, for her, they became essentially household gods).

There's that post that goes around about how Van Gogh made his best work (and really most of his work, period) when he was most stable. I'd posit that the world told Rice the opposite in explicitly material terms, and maybe there was a feedback loop there. Hard to say.

She did write shamelessly and almost aggressively. Her writing doesn't feel carefully tailored or polished for "an audience". It rejects many of the patterns you see in modern fiction (despite being wildly influential for several genres!). It highlights patterns you take for granted in other fiction because of how fundamentally it violates them. I'll splice together bits of a conversation I was having in another window:

me: And I do think that there's an interesting point to be made that the self-infatuation and the people-pleasing actually go hand-in-hand

Because there's a congratulatory aspect to having written something that you know will please other people

Like congratulating yourself ahead of time for the good person that other people are going to tell you that you are

3rd: and that also means you're afraid of writing anything that challenges or stretches the audience

which means you're writing pap

a friend and I were discussing R.F. Kuang whose book Babel was pitched as a 'response' to Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell and ... is not only not in the same league as that book but isn't even playing the same sport

This wasn't us discussing Anne Rice at all, she just feels relevant to it. We're getting increasingly streamlined stories which hit the "right" beats, but they're unsatisfying because they have no authentic skeleton. Why do people still respond to Toy Story but Inside Out is nearly forgotten? I despised Inside Out on its release because it perfunctorily landed all of its beats, but it's only pretending to have something to say. What it does pretend to say is... palatable. But it isn't interesting. It won't change you and it won't inspire a change in you, or give you the material to change yourself.

I go back to this comment over and over by @fofoqueirah because it's genuinely perfect. Peerless distillation:

But people often genuinely cannot write this way! It's overly revealing. We reflexively balk. How or why she didn't is hard to say, but it's gallingly, often horrifyingly, unapologetic. It's unapologetic for things it should probably be apologetic for.

Anyway, her writing is also maddeningly inconsistent, book-by-book, page-by-page, paragraph-by-paragraph, but it's thrilling in part due to its inconsistency. But when it's on, it's so fucking on. However, it's not didactic in any comprehensible way. There are quotes about how she trusted her meaning to come through in the end, which is hilarious because...?? I think you can derive more thematic meaning from a random pattern than you can from these books!! These books are less thematically straightforward than nonsense!

And she herself would regularly dump comments and lore and various things which made it all even weirder. God, I don't even feel like I'm scratching the surface here.

This woman had some kind of relationship with power, capitalism, BSDM, gender, family, religion, brain-eating, and dolls and God help us because she tried to tried to explain it to us and held back nothing and some times you're still. just. a wee babe in the woods.

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yanyanderes · 10 months

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ok here me out; yandere rottmnt reverse isekai au where (y/n) is the villain of the show/game/movie.

raph constantly tries to defend (y/n)’s actions like, yeah, he knows they do bad things, but that doesn’t mean they’re a bad person! i mean, yeah, they killed off half of the cast, but like… people can change! he’s just silently begging that the writers will give (y/n) a redemption arc, because he really doesn’t wanna see them locked away, wants them to be happy, wants them to change, and he’ll defend them ‘till the day he dies.

you know where this is going; mikey coming in with his fanfiction, slow burn enemies to lovers. (y/n) could be the most cruel malicious creature imaginable, mikey doesn’t care. he’ll give them a tragic backstory that totally justifies the multiple genocides they committed, also rewrites them so they’re not as heinous as they canonically are (ex.: if (y/n) slaughtered a whole village, that village was actually evil and was secretly plotting to rob and kill the main heroes all along), makes it seems like they’re just misunderstood and has his self insert oc be the only one willing to hear (y/n) out, littered with angst, fluff, bro practically writes a completely different story.

while raph and mikey see (y/n) and go “i can fix them” leo and donnie look at them and go “i can make them worse”.

leo loves how fun of a character (y/n) is, how they’re so unapologetically evil and relish in it, not sorry, doesn’t take any bs from anyone, they’re an absolute inspiration. (if they have a catchphrase, you can bet he’s gonna be using it no matter the context-) he loves it when (y/n) pulls off a stunt that annoys the fans. he loves it when the fans hate them but they can’t do anything about them. loves seeing them get pissed off and just going “lmao cry louder”

donnie’s the same when it comes to seeing (y/n) as an absolute inspiration. loves himself a crazy villain who relishes in their insanity and malice and is the biggest fanboy. makes inventions based on (y/n)’s deadly weapons (which have to be confiscated due to their deadly nature) but unlike leo, donnie doesn’t like it when people get annoyed with (y/n), going on rants about how they don’t understand the complexity of their motivations and personality, but of course someone so simple-minded wouldn’t be able to handle the sheer greatness of their character.

#yandere tmnt #yandere rottmnt #yandere teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere tmnt 2018 #yandere raph #yandere mikey #yandere leo #yandere donnie #yandere rottmnt raph #yandere rottmnt mikey #yandere rottmnt leo #yandere rottmnt donnie #yandere #yandere reverse isekai au

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goron-king-darunia · 6 months

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Eggtober Recap and Masterpost 2023

Untitled Egg Poem Egg Yolk Splattered in a chipped bowl, Limitless potential Broken like the dawn.

Scared of wasted sunrise, Scared of loving white lies, Yearning, Wanting to breathe free.

Prison within a prison, Living without living, I am spinning, toiling, burning, Breaking, sifting, praying, learning, Nothing blooming Nothing growing Tears.

Crackling insanity, A song that boils within me A rhythm Setting me in stone.

And I'll claw in Like dandelions, Vines, like yeast and mold I'll make a mark one day, you'll see.

Rooted, I'll grow my thorns, It's not my fault for being born, Sorry if My laughter is too loud.

I'll make a reverie of mechanical monotony No more apologies Just me. Insects and wriggling larvae, Eggshell like lead paint chips, Star dust doesn't choose its shape.

Pigment from wilted roses, blood spilled by mistake, I refuse to ever break.

Not again.

Eggtober is over. We did it~ The poem doesn't really speak to a current state of mind. Just a pattern of maladaptive thinking I grew up having, being the weird kid. People like the rough edges a lot more when you grow up, I've found. Makes you interesting. Or maybe it's just easier to find your people when you're unapologetically strange online. And I like that Eggtober sort of embraces that. It's not a super serious Inktober challenge. Just a bunch of weird people drawing weird eggs. And I mean that in the best way. People expect there to be a "why" a lot. "Why eggs?" And sometimes there is a why. Sometimes I draw eggs to express something or to symbolize something. But sometimes there is no why. Sometimes it's just because an egg is easy or fun or comfortable. Sometimes an egg just feels right. Sometimes it's just to make something. Doesn't have to be poetic or meaningful. Sometimes you just draw an egg, and that's all it is. And I think a lot of discomfort around art is that everyone expects there to be a why, and if you don't have a why, then your art doesn't deserve to be seen. "Why do you like gorey stuff, kinky stuff, weird stuff? If you can't explain, I'm choosing to believe you're a freak and should be disallowed from creating." And I'm lucky, I think, to not be that popular. I don't get asked these sorts of things. But I see it happen to other people. And sometimes I get it. An answer to the why pacifies. I get uneasy with horror the same as everyone and I pacify it by reading the wiki and learning the secrets and understanding the why. But I think we need to get more comfy making up our own why, or get comfy with the knowledge that sometimes there isn't a why. Sometimes the little brain goblin decides there is no why. They just like the weird little eggs. And that's okay. And I think the reason we make up for other peoples' "why" should maybe stop being "because they're a weird little freak that likes degenerate things." Because yeah, maybe they are. But it's not a bad thing. And the world is a lot more interesting when we accept that we don't always know the why. And the why isn't always as simple as that.

I dunno. I'm rambling a bit. But I'm grateful to everyone that showed up and participated and shared and liked and just... enjoyed existing where the thing happening was lots of eggs and the "why" was just "why not?"

Hoping every one of you has a nice glass of your preferred warm beverage and stays nice and toasty for the rest of the year. (Shout out to the southern hemisphere folks if there are any. May you guys have an iced beverage of your choice and stay nice and cool for the rest of the year.)

Lots of thoughts about Eggtober 2023 and no good way to articulate them, but suffice it to say that having a loose amount of structure like this is very good on my garbage ADHD brain. If anything in the collage catches your fancy, here's the posts in order from the top left to the bottom right. May the rest of 2023 be sweet. I can't wait to see everyone again next year! And don't eat too much Halloween Candy at once, even if it is those yummy gummy fried egg candies.

Eggtober 2023 Posts in Order: (Unfortunately I didn't learn about the speedpaint feature until day 6 😢)

Eggtober 1st: Fried Egg on Green Eggtober 2nd: Lemon Fried Egg (Both Versions) Eggtober 3rd: Fried Egg Cake

Eggtober 4th: Poached Eggs and Asparagus Hollandaise Eggtober 5th: Sheet Pan Fried Eggs Eggtober 6th: Raw Egg (Both Versions)

Eggtober 7th: Painted Egg Eggtober 8th: Rice Crispy Eggs Eggtober 9th: Chocolate Souffle Eggtober 10th: Hot and Sour Soup

Eggtober 11th: Flan Eggtober 12th: Fried Eggs and Bacon Eggtober 13th: Ramen Eggs Eggtober 14th: Tiger Skin Egg

Eggtober 15th: Fried Egg with Berries Eggtober 16th: Cheesy Baked Cream Eggs Eggtober 17th: Mushroom Quiche Eggtober 18th: Cipriani Cake

Eggtober 19th: Pavlova with Strawberry Jam Eggtober 20th: Deviled Egg Eggtober 21st: Hard-boiled Egg and Mayo Eggtober 22nd: Scrambled Eggs with Cheese

Eggtober 23rd: Omurice Eggtober 24th: Shrimp Fried Rice Eggtober 25th: Uovo in Raviolo Eggtober 26th: Image of Fried Egg on Jack-o-lantern.

Eggtober 27th: Tea Egg Eggtober Eggtober 28th: Monster Eggs Eggtober 29th: Korean Egg Bread Eggtober 30th: Fried Egg on Magenta in the Stlye of @quezify

Eggtober 31st: Fried Egg on Burger Eggtober 31st Bonus: Egg Creature from SNOBBISM

Special thanks to my bae, @actualaster for the love and support, @hannikka for the encouraging words, @lady-quen for the ongoing collab, and @quezify for being the best host. Love you all! I am putting the King Sized Reese's and KitKat candy bars in your metaphorical Halloween bags.

#Eggtober 2023 #Eggtober 2023 Recap #my art #art by GKD #poetry #eggs

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bsd-fan · 1 year

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Dazai osamu: Evolution

In a lot of ways this is where my Dazai analysis will really start, this is going to be insanely long so be prepared. It also has spoilers of the manga, anime, and most of the light novels.

I’ve talked about how is a mistake to measure Dazai’s character growth in terms of morality, because that has never been the main point of his characterization. Being a “good” or a “Bad” person is not as important as the fandom makes it to be. Dazai is unapologetically a morally grey character and he will always be. However, this doesn’t mean that Dazai hasn’t changed.

He has and it goes far beyond him changing into a boring trench coat and calling himself a detective. He has changed so fundamentally speaking that I’d go and say that right now is the most developed character in this area and the thing that make this even more surprising is that his character growth has not finished yet. He keeps evolving.

To understand this let’s start analyzing him chronologically:

Fifteen year old Dazai is probably the lowest we’ve ever seen Dazai. Starting fifteen, Dazai is showed to us as someone who genuinely wants to die, he is /not/ attempting suicide as a joke, is not a comedic relief. Fifteen year old Dazai wants to die with a desperation that borders on madness. He is so tired of living, so bored of life and the people that surround him, about how predictable they are, about how easy is to manipulate them, there’s not a thing in this world that can surprise him, he is living in this permanent state of numbness. He is completely lonely in a world that will never be able to understand him. And let me make a pause to talk about the fact that it has been /heavily/ implied that Dazai was living in this situation for a long time. People loves to blame Mori for Dazai’s personality but this is simply and canonically speaking not true.

Dazai has already formed most of his worse personality traits by the time Mori found him. Let me remind you that they met when Mori saved Dazai’s life /after/ he attempted suicide at fourteen. Fandom loves to act as Dazai was a perfectly healthy kid that Mori ruined when that’s not true. Mori made it worse, yes. But he wasn’t the cause of it.

“Miscalculation.

You misjudged the situation, he told himself. You failed to pick the optimal solution. You shouldn’t have chosen this child to help you. Dazai is unpredictable. He can be sharp but in a dark, twisted way. He’s observant. He’s cold and calculating with no equivalent even in the mafia, where the most evil reside”- Mori about Dazai, ligh novel fifteen.

I will talk about this more depth in another essay about Soukoku and the mafia but this is important to aknowledge. Dazai was like this even /before/ Mori’s influence, Mori was scared of him even when Dazai was just a child because he saw how deeply disconnected from his humanity he was. How cruel, cold and calculating he could be.

So going back to the main idea, at this point of the story, Dazai is already numb, manipulative, and machiavellian, he doesn’t trust in anyone and his only real connection is with Mori that looks at him like a convenient weapon to wield. But the most important trait of Dazai at this age? Is how deeply apathetic Dazai is to everything. At this stage of life Dazai lives in a pure nihilism, he doesn’t believe in /anything/, he conceives life as completely meaningless, he doesn’t see a point in existing when there’s no a reason for it. It’s so bad that it’s funny. Mori knows about the /raw/ potential in Dazai, about how valuable he can be as a tool but he can’t use him because Dazai is so unmotivated that he simply doesn’t give a damn about anything. He is a genius and he only uses his intellect to try to kill himself. He can’t be bothered with anything else, even breathing is an annoying task and a waste of effort and then…this happens:

I’m not pointing this out as a soukoku shipper because this is not even a soukoku analysis, this is all about Dazai. People will always talk about Fifteen importance for chuuya, but fifteen was also fundamental in Dazai’s arc.

Cold and apathetic Dazai was literally kicked in the face by his biggest narrative foil. Chuuya who is loud, and ridiculously emotional, who can’t for the life of him hide his expressions, who is a terrible liar, impulsive, pathologically loyal to the point of idiocy, and so fucking full of vitality, so hungry for life. And so /unbearable human/. And then Dazai gets annoyed, and surprised, and out of nowhere he is screaming at the top of his lungs, showing /emotion/, he is curious, he is intrigued. He went from saying that breathing is such a hassle to fucking throwing a party and singing happily while he, in person, decorates, he even got a cake for fuck’s sake.

He doesn’t understand chuuya, he is curious about the sheep dynamics and as the story progresses we realize that this is probably the first time that Dazai fucks up, he failed to predict a situation, he didn’t saw it coming.

He wasn’t able to realize that Chuuya was Arahabaki, he didn’t even thought about that possibility. Because since the first moment, he never thought that chuuya could be something else than human. He didn’t saw Rimbaud coming because the idea of a person going that far for someone else? Is ridiculous, it doesn’t make sense, is illogical. It’s not how people are supposed to act.

“-So it’s all for your partner-Dazai said listlessly- Betraying the mafia, spreading rumors about the old boss’s resurrection, this fight we’re in now…it’s kind of hard to believe, to be honest

-Maybe for a slimeball like you it is- Chuuya scoffed. He looked up at Randou- Throwing everything away for your friends is a perfectly respectable reason to risk your life if you ask me”- Dazai and chuuya, fifteen years old. (Pause to scream about how much I love chuuya, help)

So basically every thing that happened in fifteen leads to this:

And this guys, is one of the angular stones in Dazai’s development.

“The boy’s eyes were as clear as the sky on a sunny day; they lacked any shred of trepidation. This was not something earned, for only those determined to live could possess their heavenly blue sparkle”- about Dazai, fifteen.

This is the /only/ moment in the entirety of the series where Dazai not only doesn’t want to die, but that he /actively/ is looking towards life. The only moment in all bsd, Dazai is excited at the perspective of living. Fifteen is so important because this is the first time, Dazai’s view of life is challenged. Dazai was wrong. He made mistakes. People are not as predictable and boring as he thought. Dazai doesn’t suddenly start thinking that life has meaning, but he starts thinking that it /may/ exist, he just hasn’t found it yet.

This scene makes a radical switch in Dazai’s character because his primary goal changed from wanting to die to finding a reason to live.

In fifteen Dazai found hope, and everything that came after is possible because of this.

And it’s logical to an extent. He doesn’t understand life, but maybe if he understands death he can come closer to understand it. People always lie but when they are about to die? People become genuine, pretensions disappear, what do you cling to when you don’t have anything? When you’re dying, why do you keep fighting? If he can understand this, then maybe he can understand the sense in life. Maybe he can connect with his own desires and emotions. Maybe he can find his own reason to exist.

Unfortunately this doesn’t last.

By stormbringer, Dazai falls into despair once again, he goes back to looking for his death.

“Dazai glanced back at him, perhaps amused by this, then he muttered as if he was talking to himself. -I couldn’t find anything in the end’- Dazai osamu, stormbringer

“It seems true that he wants to die. It seems that all the value standards of living reflected in his eyes are just as worthless and ugly as scrap iron”- Oda about Dazai, The day I picked up Dazai osamu side A, translated by poppopretty

For a long time, I thought that was the culmination of Dazai’s development as a character. He went from wanting to die to trying to find a reason to live, he struggles but he is trying.

I was wrong.

Chuuya solves his main conflict in stormbringer, Dazai doesn’t. To understand this, we need to understand that one the main themes in Bungou stray dogs is existentialism.

In simple (extremely simple) words existentialism can be defined as: “ the philosophical belief we are each responsible for creating purpose or meaning in our own lives”. Which means that in a way existentialism also understands that life can be meaningless, that maybe there’s not a big purpose in existence BUT that doesn’t have to mean that it has to stay that way. Existentialism defends that people can find their own purpose and maybe is not something big, it may be not life changing for others, but is something people cling to and that’s enough to give sense to the world. I will be talking more in depth about this in chuuya’s analysis but right now the important thing is to understand that this is not enough for Dazai.

He /needs/ a bigger purpose, a better answer, something objective and logical, something that can’t be debated. Because if it’s not, then Dazai’s genius mind will pick on that and he will once again be drown in desperation. Dazai needs an absolute answer.

Enter oda, the catalyst of Dazai’s next biggest arc as a character. But first let’s understand sixteen year old Dazai’s perspective of live, shall we?

“- you said it is foolish to die, right? So here is my question. If dying is foolish, then why do we have to die?

(…)

-So, you mean life is not something to regret?

-No, it is worse than that. Even though we are all promised death, from the beginning, all human beings were born with a present desire called “I don’t want to die”. This is also one hundred percent true. That is why, that desire will never be fulfilled”- The day I picked up Dazai Osamu, transplanted by poppypretty

So, to summarize Dazai can’t understand what’s the point in living if by the end there’s no real point in it. There’s nothing there, there’s not a reason to suffer so much because that’s what he is doing. He is suffering. He is all alone, feeling like an alien in a world of humans, just using a mask and trying to hide how really inhuman and empty he is behind all of that and for what? The world is senseless. Worse than that, there are not a lot of things he cares about but when he finds something worth preserving, he loses it. Dazai is in a horrible situation because his intelligence alienates him and isolates him from other people but it’s not enough to win against the senseless of life. He lives at edge, trying to predict and control everything to protect himself and the things important to him, he purposefully goes along with the alienation and isolates himself more thus going farther from his humanity, and at the end is worthless. Because it doesn’t matter how intelligent he is, is still not enough, he will never be able to control everything, he will never be able to predict everything with 100% of accuracy because life doesn’t work in that way, is all about chaos. And Dazai can’t deal with that.

Time passes, by eighteen years old, Dazai in a lot of ways gets worse. He is the “Demon prodigy” destructive, cruel, a master in torture and his mental state continues to get worse and worse but funnily enough he is still standing and that’s thanks to two things:

1) the hope he found at fifteen and never let him. Yes, Dazai goes back to wanting to die because life sometimes becomes unbearable but his goal is still to find a reason to live. And that didn’t changed.

2) his friends. Odasaku, Ango and Lupin bar are important things for Dazai. He is still lonely but it’s a little better

Then everything goes to shit.

But I want you to understand this. After Oda decides to die, Dazai tries to stop him and this is what he says:

“-Find something to rely on. Expect good things to happen from here on out. There’s gotta be something…Hey Odasaku, do you know why I joined the mafia? (…) I joined the mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence-close to people giving in to their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that…I would be able to find something-a reason to live”- Dazai Osamu, Dark era.

This is frankly tragic, because just as I said in previous analysis. Dazai’s worse trait, the real cause of all his suffering is his complete lack of self awareness. His main problem is not his lack of understanding of life, is the lack of understanding of himself. He thinks that understanding human at their most basic, desperate state will make him understand better humankind and that ultimately will make him closer to his humanity. But that’s not how it works. He can’t just watch from afar and expect that to be enough. Dazai needs to connect with himself, even the worse parts of himself, even the parts he doesn’t want to see instead of covering them up, he needs to let himself bond with other people, he needs to connect with his own emotions and desires. He needs to leave his overly complex ideas behind, to go down from the high horse he is in, to stop with the omniscient being act that aggravate his isolation and alienation, the things that ultimately make him perceive himself as something inhuman. He needs to accept that at the end of the day he is just human, just like the rest of the world and he is just as powerless as them.

Now let’s go to arguably Dazai’s most important scene as a character: Odasaku’s death

People love to make this scene about soukoku and it’s fucking ridiculous.

People will take this scene and put it as evidence for the “Chuuya’s always the second choice” theory that they came up with (even if the whole theory is fucking ) but specifically this? Dazai leaving the mafia? Has nothing to do with chuuya. It’s part of his /individual/ character development and exactly what it should be.

Let’s start analyzing it

Dazai arrives and Oda is dying, he is desperate to save him even when he know is too late and the Odasaku says something. And this, this guys is what ultimately leads to Dazai’s character growth.

“-you told me if you put yourself in a world of violence and bloodshed, you might be able to find a reason to live (…) you won’t find it-Odasaku said in an almost whisper. Dazai stared at him- You should know that. Whether you’re on the side that takes lives or the side that saves them, nothing beyond your own expectations will happen. Nothing in this world can fill the hole that is your loneliness. You will wander the darkness for eternity”

“ That was when Dazai first realized: Sakunosuke oda understood him much more than he’d ever imagined- right up to his very heart, almost to the center of his mind. Dazai didn’t realize until then that someone had known him so well. For the first time in his life, Dazai wanted from the bottom oh his heart to know something. He asked the man before him:

-Odasaku, What should I do-“- Odasaku and Dazai osamu, Dark era

This is the most important scene for Dazai. He has always been lonely, he has always lived with the knowledge that it doesn’t matter how much he tries, no one will ever able to understand him but then just minutes before oda’s death he realizes he was wrong. To say that he left the mafia for oda is as inexact as saying that he decided to live for chuuya. It’s simply not true. He was heavily influenced by both of them but at the end of the day it was for himself.

“People live to save themselves”

I’ve say it before but this sentence is the core of bsd. If you want to analyze a character in this series, not matter who, you need to start by this quote. Dazai is not the exception to it.

He joined the mafia trying to find his own salvation, to get closer to his humanity, to find his reason for living, to find answers and he left because he realized it was useless. He always knew in a way, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave because this was his only chance, the mafia was his only hope, was the only thing he was clinging to. Even in his worst moments, Dazai still clung to the idea that he would find what he was looking for. But then, while dying oda talks to him and he realizes that there was someone who understood. Someone who knew about his pain, someone who understood his desperation, someone who looked through the mask and realized how utterly broken he was. And thing is, he failed, he tried the logical option and he found nothing but then maybe oda, oda who knows him best, oda who probably understands him better that he understand himself can tell him what to do. That’s why Dazai is so desperate in this scene, asking what to do. Because this is a new chance, there’s new hope. What Oda said might sound horrible but it was exactly what Dazai needed to hear and is the reason I was wrong.

Dazai doesn’t read as a character who went from wanting to die to wanting to find a reason to live.

Because to begin with, what Dazai was looking for was completely unreachable because it doesn’t exist. He can be looking for a reason to live all his life and he won’t find it because there’s not an absolute answer. There is not a bigger motive. The world really is senseless, that’s how it is. And Dazai needed to understand that. That’s why oda tells him to forget all about that silly hope. Because is useless.

“Be on the side that saves people. If both sides are the same, then choose to become a good person. Save the weak, protect the orphaned. You might not see a great difference between right and wrong, but…saving others is something just a bit more wonderful”- Oda Sakunosuke, dark era.

But that doesn’t mean than living is worthless

And this is how we come to Dazai’s real change as character. Dazai goes from nihilism, to a failed attempt of existentialism to absurdism.

Absurdism is the philosophical theory that existence in general is absurd, meaning that the world lacks meaning or a higher purpose. It also refers to the discrepancy between two things such as: the conflict as a colission between a rational man in an irrational world. In simple words, absurdism refers to the struggle of the man to find sense in a senseless world and we can see the mental impact of this struggle in the form of existential crises (yes, just like Dazai) Okay so I swear this made perfect sense in my own language, I’m gonna try as best as I can to explain it in English. Absurdism is different from existentialism because it doesn’t think that you can find a sense in the world, it really defends that not matter what you do, you will never find anything, that it doesn’t matter what you cling to in the great scheme of things it still means nothing, and in a way this need to find a sense in life will lead to more chaos BUT it also defends that you have to keep living despite that, maybe out of pure spite of it. Things doesn’t need to make sense to be worthy.

Absurdism says that there are three options to deal with this problem

Suicide: the pure desperation of trying to reach something that doesn’t exist will lead to the rejection of life. But this is not the correct answer (Cough, young Dazai, cough)

Religion: trying to cope, clinging to the idea that there’s a higher purpose. (Cough, Fyodor, Cough)

Rebellion against the absurd: which is the right answer, the individual needs to learn to accept the absurdity of the world and of his own existence but keep opposing to it. Which means, that the individual keeps living clinging to little things that may not have sense, but that are still worthy and valuable. In even simpler terms, absurdism says “do what you have to do to stop from killing yourself, not matter how stupid that thing is”

Cadmus explained it even better using this example:

You all know about Sisyphus, right? If not is basically this man that was punished by the gods. The punishment consisted of rolling a massive rock up a hill, but it doesn’t matter how hard he tried, at the end of the day, once the rock reached the top it would roll down again. So it was a completely senseless punishment. Not matter how Sisyphus tried he could never win against the absurdity of it. And this also happens with human lives, we do meaningless things all the time, knowing that at the end we will die. Not matter what we do, if we end up as vagabonds or if we find the cure against cancer, the result is still the same, we will all die, so everything we do in life is pointless. BUT Cadmus said that you still can’t give up. Because at the end, sisyphus needs to stop caring about something that he can’t change, the result will always be the same but the important thing is the instant of happiness when he comes close to finishing his job. The moment when the rock reaches the top? seconds before it rolls down, that satisfaction? Is what life is really about. And that’s exactly what Dazai is trying to do right now.

He won’t find sense in life, but being in the ADA is a little more beautiful and that alone is reason enough to be there. Maybe he is not a good person, maybe he doesn’t understand morals but he is with people he has come to appreciate in a better environment doing something that he enjoys more and that’s enough.

There’s this omake in bsd that shows a conversation between Atsushi and Dazai. And Atsushi asks Dazai, why he is in the ADA because someone as intelligent as Dazai can surely find a job with better pay, and Dazai looks at him and tell him that it’s true, but he is fine where he is because he likes to use his brain to help people. That guys, is absurdism right there, Dazai acknowledges that it may not makes sense but he likes what he does and that’s enough.

This change has been gradual and Dazai still struggles with it. He still has problems with the idea of letting things go, he still is a manipulative bastard and that will never change, because at this point is just a part of his personality, he still is trying to control everything but at the same time he also is ready to accept that sometime you just don’t have the answers and that’s part of humanity. This is one of my favorite panels on earth:

Dazai is trying to convince kyouka of living, to choose to do something different from the things she’s good at, if that what makes her happy. This is one of the few scenes Dazai accepts that he is not omniscient, that there are no answers for all the questions, and that we are all a little lost because of it. This is also the first time Dazai is not in desperation while saying it. His growth is not about becoming a good person, he still does horrible things, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t changed. To accept that life is senseless but it still is worthy, to accept that he can’t control everything but the possibilities of it are not necessarily something to be afraid but opportunities? /That’s/ his character growth

This whole arc is a masterpiece because it highlights Dazai’s growth. He is against Fyodor, who in a lot of ways is just like him but at their core they are completely different.

This hands down is my favorite Dazai’s panel because is all about his growth. Because he can see what Fyodor doesn’t. Fyodor see himself as a god, Dazai doesn’t because he knows that it doesn’t matter if they are pulling the strings, they are still isolated and alienated from everything, the people that really is moving the world is the one out there, the people that jumps even when they don’t know if they will be caught. The people that don’t know half of what they know but still are able to move in the middle of the uncertainty. And that’s something that neither Fyodor nor Dazai are able to do. But Dazai is no longer in pain because of that, he now understands the problem and is trying his best to overcome it. Dazai stopped resenting the world for being senseless and illogical and is learning to accept it and just adapt as best as he can to it. To give everything for the people he cares about even when there’s no guarantee that it will end well, but Dazai is trying and that’s what matters.

I really wish I had the time to make a better analysis but I don’t. Even then, I wanted to share my pure love and admiration to this character. Dazai is so beautifully written and by far the most complex character in this whole story, all of his development as a character is simply fascinating and the way Asagiri is writing him right now has me screaming and running in circles.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai bsd #dazai osamu #soukoku #skk #dazai analysis #bsd spoilers #this is annoyingly long

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currently-tired · 2 months

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guys, i have been so insane about convergent evolution lately. (my ‘Lanyon takes Henry’s theory of duality a bit too seriously….’ tgs au)

wild. foaming at the mouth.

They meet! But they don’t know it’s each other! They fuck, and don’t know it’s each other!!! A relationship forms slowly... but they’re still torn over the person they loved, and continue to love so deeply. (They don’t know!!!!!)

Imagine this;

Hyde sees an oddly familiar, but incredibly handsome man. (He’s so damn familiar, for some strange reason, but they can’t remember where they saw him from…)

He glosses over that profound familiarity and goes over to proposition him.

(They’ve seen so many people in both bodies. Rich and poor. It’d be unusual if they didn’t recognize at least one someone in a room…)

Lanyon is trying to drown out thoughts of Jekyll in his other body. Hopefully while drunk, and roughly fucking his thoughts away.

The face of the man in front of them is familiar to him, yes, despite never meeting them before... (How unusual, for a person who is unique in appearance.)

To sate his curiosity, he lets the man flirt with him. Lets him drape himself over him, rest a hand suggestively on his thigh, and whisper in his ear.

Lanyon sees hints of Jekyll in that man. The Scottish accent [dulled by years in London, but still prevalent], and the fiery passion in his eyes.

Other smaller things. The way he sat down, leg crossed over leg. Something about his smile. The way he tilted his head…

That unshakeable confidence in his posture, even as he begged Lanyon to do filthy things to him.

(The features that were different, such as sharp claws and teeth, an insane glint to their eyes, and a high and raspy, almost shrieking voice, more of an exciting draw, then a downfall.)

Why not? He seemed so eager anyway…

It’d just be a one night stand. They’d never see each other again.

He’d never be faced with that man who was oh so much like Henry ever again.

So why the hell not?

…

[…They saw each other again, and again.]

They both bump into each other at the bar again. Stare at each other awkwardly, before drawing closer and closer, towards each other... (It’s still two strangers fucking. Nothing else. Nothing more, they assure themselves…)

Both happen to visit Blackfog on the same day. Happen to visit the same stall. A conversation is struck up and they rant about chemicals and alchemy (A relatively new interest of Lanyon’s, developed entirely by his interest in developing the potion, and a longstanding obsession of Jekyll’s), before ducking into an empty alleyway…

Time and time again, they find each other. Spend time with each other.

They become fast friends. They enjoyed each others company, the easy, effortless friendship, with a familiar dynamic that they slot into. (…Almost as if they had already known each other.)

And so, eventually they both begin to deliberately seek each other out.

Regular meetings at the bar, same table every single time.

Hyde shows him how to scale a building. Which foot-holes are too small, how to angle his foot, and which windowsills would support weight.

Snarky, and witty jokes, and friendly conversations are exchanged. (And for Hyde’s part, crude jokes, that always had a hint of intelligence underneath them; a glimpse of another side of the person Lanyon had initially only considered to be a hedonist...)

Lanyon showed them a cynical view of the world. Bitter, and dry, but when motivated or interested, passionate and opinionated.

And Hyde showed him his world. The joy and passion he had for everything in life. All the stupid shit they did, with absolutely no fear of pain or death

(If only they were like this full time! They’d grouse to themself. How nice would life be for them if Henry Jekyll wasn’t so damn numb, and sad!-)

As time goes on, they grow closer, and closer…

Hyde turns down invitation after invitation from perfectly handsome people because ‘Oh, he said he be here in… Ten minutes, sorry.” (Words said completely unapologetically, as they tucked away their watch.)

Lanyon drops a gala, because Hyde wanted to go to the park and catch rats for a rat census, and requested his help. (And if the two of them stayed just a little longer than intended, doing things they probably shouldn’t of, who cared?)

A one night stand evolves into some sort of shaky, undefined relationship.

Hyde starts to bring the man he doesn’t know is Lanyon chocolates and flowers. Other little presents and gifts. (He loved wine. And Jekyll’s own cellar would not miss a fine vintage…)

They start actively craving attention and love from him. (Something they had sworn against, after their heart break tore them apart…)

Jekyll ends up sitting in their office doing paperwork, bored or tired or angry, and imagining what HE would do if he was there. (Sometimes Lanyon, with his biting snarky comments, and sometimes that intense man, with a tease on his lips that always made his heart race…)

At a gala alone, wishing he had someone by his side. (But which someone..?)

Then he stuff the thought away in the corner of his mind, in favor of joining a conversation he prayed was interesting enough to draw this thoughts away completely…

Lanyon starts to look forward to the evenings. He strokes their hair tenderly, runs a hand up their naked spine. (No longer just rough touches, that they begged him for…

Soft fleeting things, that they never requested, but always accepted happily. Sometimes even with a purr.)

Alchemical books carried around all night, taken out of Lanyon’s bag and shoved forcefully into their arms, before he ran off back home for the night.

Their face, surprised at first, and then joyful and pleased when they saw what it was, burned into Lanyon’s retinas, and memory…

(Wait… Since when did seeing Edward happy make Lanyon so happy?..)

Both, a second away from whispering a certain four letter word, before choking it back…

Then, they both realize it’s gone too far. It’s no longer just a one night stand!-

(But none of them want it to stop…)

And Lanyon has to admit to himself that he’s falling for someone again, even through those thick walls he put up. And he also has to admit that their similarities to Jekyll are not the only reason he’s pursuing them. (…Or are they? Was Eddy just a replacement for Jekyll? They were so similar. But so different at the same time.

Which was it?-)

Hyde has to consider that their policy of being completely emotionally detached relationships is being challenged.

(Just one more time. There’s no emotions. Just good sex. I don’t care about him. He doesn’t care about me. It can’t be that bad! I would never let it get that bad!-)

Other times, they scream at the top of their lungs, and break things. How dare their heart betray them like this!-

HOW DARE IT MAKE THEM LOVE AGAIN!-

As Jekyll they sigh, and wonder if it is unfair. A betrayal, to love two people at once. (Both to themself, and to them…)

Could he truly devote himself to one now? Which?!-

(They did not have an answer for himself…)

Both shake, and lie awake at night, wondering, pondering. (Should I break it off? Should it keep going?

…How did I let this happen?)

But they’re both in far too deep to quit without broken hearts and pain…

And they don’t want to anyway.

#honk shoo posting #convergent evolution au #the glass scientists #suggestive content

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