#basically discovering books I simply can’t live without

[tuulikki]

One of the most astonishing things about the Quran is how it inherits beliefs that were bouncing around apocryphal traditions. Look at the Surah Maryam (the Surah about the Virgin Mary):

This is Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew content! Somehow this folktale about the Virgin Mary was in such significant circulation that it ended up all over the place! And it was so strongly present in popular culture that it actually ended up in the Quran.

And when I say it’s astonishing that this ended up in the Quran, what I really mean is that it seems odd that popular discourse on religion don’t talk about these obvious proofs of a dynamic, creative cultural exchange between Christian apocryphal traditions and the imaginative multicultural context that produced Islam. People are out here inventing weird shit about Jesus being based on Osiris or whatever 🙄 when the actual connections are so much cooler and frankly beautiful?

And those of you raised in or adjacent to Christianity may recognise The Cherry Tree Carol, albeit starring a more Levantine-probable tree. (@hymnsofheresy, @linnealurks, @beggars-opera, & @voluptuarian I’m tagging you because I think I’ve seen you all Cherry Tree Carol posting over the years? But I have no sense at all if the broad context is well-known.)

[madwomansapologist]

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM | CHAPTER 4 — LETTERS

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thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attention. if he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see you sooner. or: how gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

It wasn’t his intention. Saruman wandered through the halls of Rivendell with a simple purpose in mind: to find Gandalf. After two weeks, his journey back to Isengard was a necessity. It was time to leave, and to advise a friend to stay.

Saruman knows about the power he wields over others. His reputation works as a shield from doubts and apprehensions. Saruman the White. If he says the sky is green, all options will be explored before someone dares cogitating he lied. His reputation precedes him, and that’s why Saruman knows Gandalf will listen to him. That’s what he does.

At Gandalf’s chamber, Saruman waited in silence until a pearly dove pecked at the close window. It had a letter attached to it. Untying the paper from its back, Saruman caressed their delicate wings.

Reading the familiar calligraphy, his prayers were answered. A placid smile took over his frigid face. Saruman ignored completely what Aerin wrote about the Elvenking or that dam stumbling. A warg left you unconscious. Unresponsive.

You’ll finally die. What a miracle. As soon as it happens, as soon as Gandalf discovers that it happened, their problems will end. No more lies for them to worry. Radagast won’t search for new ways to cure you. Past mistakes won’t matter anymore.

And Saruman will have great news to report to his Lord.

He knows better than to count on a possible victory. You will die, unless Gandalf finds a way to save you again. Sentimentalist as always, Radagast would come back to meddle in what shouldn’t interest him. That simply can’t be.

It wasn’t his intention to intercept the letter, burning it to ashes was.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

In haste to avail the sunset, you closed the stable doors and locked them with chains. They were heavy, but not that much. You entered the inn through the back doors and went up to your room, grabbed the basket by your bed and hurried to your hideout.

Without giving anyone the time to question what you’re doing, you made your way to the forest. You followed a familiar path to the clearing, a part of the forest where the trees are thin. A perfect hiding place to read old myths and explore new words.

Sat among the roots of an orange tree, your heart collapsed into the book. It was torn, the edge of the cover crumpled and humid. It smelled like plums, that you found mashed in the basket.

It isn’t ruined. You dry it and then leave something heavy on top and hope it straightens the pages. It’s closer to being ruined than it was before. Cover closer to tearing apart, pages closer to tarnishing until ink turns into blurs of words and drawings.

Then you’ll be left alone. Again.

“Dôl gîn lost”, you murmured to yourself. “Why can’t you learn?”

You should’ve known better. You should’ve known he wouldn’t stay. Thranduil is a king. He lived more than you could ever understand, saw places in this world that you can’t imagine, knows people way more interesting than a magician lacking memories.

Of course, he’d go home and forget to say goodbye. Not care enough to say goodbye.

You understand Thranduil had to leave. Why he would need to and want to. It hurts that all you have is a dying book and the knowledge you’ll never see him again.

You finally had a friend. Not someone you had any sort of debt to pay, that meet you when you couldn’t understand the most basic of things. One that you meet on a random night, and that now is gone. What should you do with those feelings? Where do you put them?

“Lossëistar?” It startled you, but you recognized the voice. “I am not the only one that knows this place.”

He wore his golden armor, wrist resting against the hilt of his sword. People say he’s a good warrior, you never saw him fighting. The only thing you saw was his wit. You admire people that always know what to say.

“Gildor”, you waved to him. Your smile was wider than usual, to disguise your watercolor eyes. “I thought you went back.”

“Not yet”, said Gildor. “I thought you’d never walk into a forest again. Not after what happened.”

“If you get hurt inside your house, would you never come back to it?” You arched your eyebrows. “It wasn’t a forest that bit me, it was a warg. And I swear to stay away from them.”

With a warm smile, he nodded. “You ‘re right. It’s still a brave choice, if you permit me.” 

“I do”, your tone was arrogant, but not your face. Gildor laughed. “And may I ask why you’re here? If you permit me.”

Gildor opened his mouth to answer you, but his eyes fell to the book between your hands. “Do you speak elvish?”

“Pedig edhellen”, you murmured to yourself, words echoing inside your mind. “I’m learning.”

“Alone?”

“The Elvenking taught me”, you licked your lips. “For now, yes, alone.”

Gildor became stiff, almost vigilant. “He’s noble. It may seem naive but I always thought those great masters hated each other.”

“Do you mean Elrond and Thranduil?”

“Mirkwood is known as a dark, tenebrous place. And Rivendell is… Look around. I was naive to imagine that they would envy one another. The Elvenking wouldn’t protect this realm if they did. Rivendell is under attack. Spider nests, orcs regrouping, even wargs,” Gildor looked away from you. “Before you woke up, Thranduil promised Varla he would annihilate every single one of those insects. That is why he left suddenly.”

If Gildor screamed at you, if he worshiped a forgotten god, if he talked with a bewitched shadow: you wouldn’t notice it. Thranduil promised that? He put himself in danger, his army in danger, to help people that are not under his protection. He did something so brave, so dangerous, and why? Why did he promise that?

Oh.

It was before you had woken up. For you, it felt like a heavy sleep. Luthien said no one knew if you would awaken. No one knew if you would survive. Aerin said she knew, your body still remember how she hugged you tightly.

Did he promise that as a deal with Varla? Did Thranduil feared you wouldn’t awake and decided perhaps something great as defending a kingdom would make the gods look out for you? Does he care that much?

Sinking deeper into your mind, rocked by your thoughts as if they were music, you were unaware of how cold you felt. A thick layer of ice joined your body to the roots, mist escaping from your nostrils.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A scarlet glow shone through the murky night. Sparks leap into the air, a dark cloud spread for miles, and the world shrunk into itself. No seas, skies or mountains. No animals, civilizations. The only thing that mattered in the whole world was that forest. And it was on fire.

Motionless on the grass, Thranduil could only watch it. He was nothing but a witness. Someone useless, frozen in space and time. Trapped in a distant, blurry memory. In an old nightmare.

It’s a recurring one. Every night the same dream. A forest fire, a useless witness, chronic pain climbing up his face. And then Thranduil wakes up. A repetitive torture that leaves him with an itched face and moist eyes.

The clock is ticking just as it always has done yet at night seconds seem to stretch. His futures fades, past haunting him. Surrounded by fire, Thranduil relives once again his worst memory.

Thranduil couldn’t get near the fire. Even if it was possible to extinguish it, he wouldn’t. He would never. He can feel the warmth, the stench of old wood. And if he walks towards it, if he feels it against his skin, then it would mean that it’s happening again.

And Thranduil would rather die.

Then something he never saw before happened. The fire vanished.

Mist enveloped him. For a second, Thranduil thought it was raining. Looking down, snowflakes melted against his skin. Like at the beginning of the season, when the first snow falls.

And when Thranduil looked at the forest again, the scarlet glow was replaced by a denim brightness. Sparks flying turned into falling snow. He could see the sky, the stars, the mountains so far away. And you.

Every leaf that brushed against your hand, every stone that got in your way, every tiny breath you take. Ice was spread along with your steps. And for the first time, time passed too fast.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Thranduil woke up boiling under the sheets. He clutched his chest in a vain attempt to calm his heart.

The white fabric, thick enough to protect him from the cold, covered the dark sky that surrounded his tent. Protected by it, Thranduil ran to his table and grabbed the letter-paper.

It’s been days since Thranduil first wished to write to you. He already knew what to write. Every morning Thranduil imagined all the things he would say to you. He never did.

He told himself it was a mistake. How could he write to you after that bitter farewell? You must regret ever meeting him. And Thranduil don’t blame you. He would do the same if a friend traveled without caring to say goodbye.

As it turns out, Thranduil is too old to be so easily deceived. Deep down he knew that wasn’t the reason for him not to write to you. It’s that he wouldn’t accept your apology if the situation was inversed.

You don’t hold any grudges against Aerin. Thranduil heard her not calling you by your name, not letting you rest, telling you to go to the place that almost killed. And you do not hate her. Worse: you do not hate him. Thranduil spend every single hour of your unconscious hating himself. He could not protect you. He could not save you. You trusted him, you took his hand into yours. He killed that warg. Did it change anything? Did that make his bite disappear, your blood stop spreading in the meadow, the sparkle come back to your eyes? And you thanked him when he gave you water.

Thranduil didn’t wrote for you, not because he knew you’d hated him. Not because of your reaction. Thranduil didn’t wrote to you because he was afraid.

If he writes, it means that he was wrong. It means that he’s the one regretting how things ended. He didn’t wish for a melancholic last memory and that only made it worse. That made Thranduil look heartless. And he doesn’t want you to think about him like that.

Thranduil never wrote for you. Until now.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Lady,

I hope your days have been peaceful thus far. How is your recovery going? Luthien is a talented healer; I assure you she only does the best for your health. If something is ever needed, no matter what it is, I certainly can provide it for you. I sincerely wish you an uncomplicated improvement.

I am glad I left. At south of Rivendell, following the tracks of worms that returned to haunt this land, my army and I do good to many. I cannot help but to wonder how many would have suffered but didn’t because of our campaign. To leave was the right decision, a noble way to reciprocate how well my people were treated at Rivendell. Still, my mind comes back to you.

It was selfish of me to not gave you an appropriate farewell. I didn’t wish for a last memory. For a last moment. I wanted our last memory to be one of our lessons. A memory filled with joy. A selfish act, was it not?

My farewell—or the lack of it—wasn’t meant to hurt you. I did not aim at your heart. Great intentions mostly are not enough.

I hope you’re well. I hope you’re recovering without any inconveniences. And I hope you don’t regret ever meeting me.

Na lû e-govaned vîn,

Thranduil Oropherion.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It took you two hours of research to translate it. Soon you understood that your book was not enough. In the middle of the night, you ran to the library and dove between dictionaries.

You could have asked someone to translate it for you but that letter was yours. Only yours. You felt jealous thinking about someone seeing his handwriting. About someone touching the scented paper. Someone reading his words. That letter was meant for your eyes. Only for them.

Na lû e-govaned vîn. Until the time of our meeting.

next chapter!

SUBSCRIPTION: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink @ferns-fics @notanalienindisguiseblink @rayrlupin @elvyshiarieko @graniairish

all rights reserved to © madwomansapologist

[mushycrouton]

Heterosexual PhD Holder Furious LGBTQIA+ People Won’t Debate the Terms of Their Own Annihilation

By mushycrouton, Social Affairs Correspondent

Local heterosexual and self-proclaimed “defender of civil discourse” Dr. Penelope Cruchley-Lockjaw has expressed her mounting frustration that LGBTQIA+ people are increasingly unwilling to participate in calm, rational debates over whether they should be allowed to exist at all.

Dr. Cruchley-Lockjaw, who holds a PhD in Neo-Victorian Table Manners from the University of Greater Cheltenham, believes that all issues — including human rights, dignity, and the basic right to exist without persecution — should be subject to regular Oxford-style debates, ideally moderated by people who already agree with her.

“I simply don’t understand the hostility,” said Cruchley-Lockjaw, sipping from a commemorative Queen’s Jubilee mug while tweeting furiously. “If I were part of a so-called ‘community,’ I’d leap at the chance to sit politely across from me while I calmly explore whether they pose an existential threat to society.”

Academic or Busybody?

Cruchley-Lockjaw, who once published a blog post titled “Should Gay People Be Allowed in Gardens?”, considers herself a centrist provocateur, constantly “just asking questions” such as:

“Are trans people real or just goths with ambition?”

“What if marriage was only for people who could name three breeds of sheep?

“Are queers and the weather linked? A scientific inquiry.”

“I bring an academic lens to these discussions,” she explained, gesturing vaguely at a shelf of books with titles like The Perils of Unregulated Pronouns and A Short History of Things I Don’t Understand but Dislike Anyway. “It’s all about encouraging free speech — preferably speech that’s identical to mine.”

Deeply Confused by Backlash

Despite regularly appearing on late-night panels called things like Debate Me, You Coward, Cruchley-Lockjaw has been shocked to discover that LGBTQIA+ people seem increasingly unwilling to volunteer for a friendly 90-minute dismantling of their basic humanity.

“This generation is so thin-skinned,” she sighed. “When I was at university, we debated everything — the ethics of fox hunting, whether women could be trusted to vote, even whether my dorm mate Philippa was a witch. Philippa was burnt at the stake, obviously, but the process was very civil.”

Not All Speech is Free

Despite her fierce belief in the marketplace of ideas, Cruchley-Lockjaw recently blocked a lesbian woman on Twitter for suggesting her cardigan was “giving orphanage headmistress.”

“That was a personal attack,” she said, shaking. “It’s so telling that these people can’t debate without resorting to bullying. Meanwhile, I’m over here politely suggesting that we rethink their right to medical care. Totally different.”

Future Plans

Undeterred by the lack of volunteers, Cruchley-Lockjaw plans to hold a one-woman debate next month titled Is It Time to Bring Back Dignified Shame?, which will be live-streamed from her conservatory.

She hopes it will inspire LGBTQIA+ people to “put aside their emotions and calmly debate whether they deserve rights with someone who absolutely believes they don’t.”

At press time, Dr. Cruchley-Lockjaw was seen storming off Twitter after her ‘Polite Chat on Whether Gay People Are Just a Phase’ space only attracted five viewers — all of them trolls.

[sl-newsie]

Query: Q x 00 Agent- Ch. 17: Catching Up

5 years later

Life is funny sometimes. One minute you’re carrying out an undercover mission in Nuremberg, Germany. Next thing you know being knocked into a marble wall sends you into a comma. I don’t remember much, only whispers of voices. Time passed so much slower, almost like living in a broken record. When I opened my eyes it felt that only a few days had passed. Turned out it was 4 years. Not something I was ecstatic to hear.

Not much had changed, thank goodness. Mallory was still running the show, Moneypenny still his secretary. The first bit of news that surprised me was that Bond had retired. Ever since the incident at Vesper’s grave he all but fell off the face of the Earth. I had no chance of seeing him again unless he wished to be seen. My mentor, my partner, my closest friend. Gone.

The next thing that shocked me was Q. When one is basically sleeping like the dead for 4 years no one is expected to hold on that long. I wouldn’t expect him to. But he did. He held onto me. Q was the first to visit me the instant he got the news I was awake. He sprinted in, still in his pajamas, and squeezed me so tight I thought I’d pass out again. After he’d calmed down I asked him why he’d stayed single. He simply said: “I don’t fall in love twice. I’m in love with you, dead or alive. And if you’re dead then I have no reason to carry on romantic intentions with someone else.”

After that something sparked. Our half-witted relationship grew stronger almost to the point of full-out dating. Granted our jobs don’t allow much free time but we still enjoy each other’s company after hours. For better or for worse. When I’m forced to kill more than I’d like to during a mission I go home and cling to Q the same as he did to me when I was asleep. 

Things won’t be the same as they were 5 years ago. Right now I keep my eyes and ears open and stay alive. That’s enough for Q and Mallory, so it’s good enough for me.

“Moneypenny, you need to get in here. Now.” M barks urgently from down the hall.

I look up from the forms I’m filling out to see Moneypenny rushing down the aisle. “Something important?”

“More than likely,” she says.

Deciding to follow her, I quickly get up and head towards M’s office-

“0011, this is classified,” the stern leader states clearly before shutting the heavy door.

Crumbs! Since when is something so important that it’s classified to 00s? In a final attempt I put my head to the door and listened to the muffled conversation.

“Sir. What’s the Heracles Project? This lab is not in the books.”

“... I’ll handle it.”

It’s a quick conversation because the door opens after a few seconds and Moneypenny reappears carrying some files.

“What was that about?” I start following her back to her desk.

“Something dangerous. I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything,” she replies nonchalantly as she logs into her computer.

“Then why are you-?”

“Don’t expect to find something in your email,” Moneypenny says without looking up.

Ah. I see how it is.

“I never do. See you later.” I nod stiffly and strut out of the office. Before I head to the break room I snatch my laptop and headphones. Once I’ve made sure the area is empty I click into my email. Sure enough a new message from Moneypenny pops up. The images show an invasion of a lab, one that I’m guessing is very important due to the biohazard signs posted everywhere. Why would Mallory need to keep this under wraps? Perhaps I should reach out to Bond. 

I haven’t told the others about keeping in touch with my old mentor. Bond doesn’t know either. After I woke up from my coma I did some digging and through a series of underground contacts I discovered that he is still alive. I don’t know where, but that’s unnecessary. All I need to know is that my old friend is alive. I also learned that Bond is no longer 007. When I got to meet Nomi, the new 007, I found her to be reasonable. She’s nice, but nothing like Bond.

No, I shouldn’t bother him. Bond’s earned his retirement. If he wants to spend it in isolation I can’t deny him that. So instead I’ll relay the info to Q. No surprise he’s holed up in the lab. Still the same man as he was 5 years ago; although Q’s definitely acquired a wiser appearance. Despite the age lines on his face there’s still the same youthful enthusiasm behind those brown eyes.

“Greetings, darling.” 

The man nods in response. “Same to you, 0011.”

He must be into something deep. When Q gets like he is now it’s as if he and the computer have bonded, creating a man with a computer for a brain. Some would push this off as rude and unattentive but I respect it. Whatever it takes for Q to perform his technological miracles is worth it.

“Q, has Moneypenny said anything-?”

“How’s it going, Q?” M walks up from behind and I cut myself short.

Q catches my drift and goes back to looking at his screen. “There have been many large files wiped from Obruchev’s hard drive. He seemed to be working on some pretty advanced algorithmic-”

“Can you retrieve the files?” M says hastily.

Q frowns. “Trying.”

“Get me everything you can and then destroy the drives.”

“Maybe if I knew more about what this was then I could-”

“Thank you, Q. That’s all.”

Interesting. I’ve never seen M so uptight about something. Especially with Q. Since our Quartermaster is the brains behind all operations I would at least expect him to be kept involved; yet M wants to keep this unknown matter as quiet as possible. Just now a phone starts ringing and I do my best to overhear the conversation.

“It’s 007.”

007? Why would Nomi-?

“Bond?” M’s tone changes.

Bond’s calling? Nice to know my contacts were right. Unfortunately M does not seem to share my enthusiasm for Bond's surprise call.

“I’m guessing Bond didn’t take it too well regarding his replacement,” I inquire dryly.

Mallory scowls at my fake interest. “007 is doing her job-”

“Nomi will never replace Bond. Everyone knows that, even you.”

M just sighs and walks out of the lab before the argument can spiral further. Once he’s gone Q grabs my hand and leads me to the back corner. Now Q’s acting suspicious too?

“Quartermaster, what’s going on? You know you can trust me, right?”

He nods. “M may not like it but you deserve to know. I did some research and found out that the security footage Moneypenny sent me shows Spectre agents extracting Valdo Obruchev in order to steal something called Project Heracles. I’m not too sure about what that is but I’ll find it eventually.”

An unknown project. Capital idea. Just another secret for M to keep.

“Can you gain access?” I ask with unease.

Q looks at me with an amused smile. “I hacked the Nine Eyes program. This should be a cinch.”

“So SPECTRE’s not completely dead. Brilliant. Is Mallory not telling us something? He’s been getting more and more anxious. It wouldn’t be the first time he screwed up.”

“You’re never going to let the whole SPECTRE incident blow over?” Q sighs as he goes back to his computer.

“Hell no.”

In a fit of stubbornness I storm over and pick up a spare tablet to access the footage again. What can be so incriminating to M’s image that he’d try to bury it? However my annoyance is eased off when I feel a warm hand grab mine.

“Shouldn’t be near me, Q. I might break something.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Darling, you’d never hurt me. No matter how pissed you are.”

I roll my eyes. He’s right. I could be pushed to the breaking point and even in a rage of insanity Q will always pull me back, like he’s doing right now.

“Sorry. I know I’ve been a bit unstable the past few months-”

“Eleanor,” Q calmly interrupts and kneels down to face me directly. “You were in a coma. Time turns anyone into a different person. I’m not saying it’s made you weak, but your brain isn’t the same as it was 5 years ago. If you ever need to talk about anything, don't feel like you are a burden.” He gives me a pointed look. “I know you, dear. You need to understand that you can’t carry everything yourself.” Now Q looks at me with grateful eyes. “I’m just thrilled you still remember me.”

By now I’m speechless to his pep talk. How is it that Q, being as unemotional as he is, is the perfect therapist? I didn’t even know why I haven’t been thinking straight but he’s right. This whole time I’ve been trying to piece together a life that’s similar to what I had 5 years ago, trying to make up for lost time. But I don’t have to scramble to catch up. 

“I could never forget you, Q. No matter how many hits I take to the head. I- I don’t know how to thank you,” I whisper. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”

Q just smiles and squeezes my hand. “No need to thank me, 0011. What I do need is for you to continue being the bad-ass that you are.”

I smirk and start to respond but then my phone goes off. I swear if Mallory’s trying to bury me with more paperwork-

“Levie, it’s Bond.”

The voice stimulates me to be on alert and I assume the worst. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m calling to warn you about M. There’s something going on and I’m on my way to find out what. I’ll make this brief: don’t trust anyone. Don’t try to find me, it will only cause more problems for you.” There’s a pause. “It- It’s good to know you’re still alive after all these years.”

“Likewise. Stay strong, Bond.” The line goes dead and I take a second to process what just happened. I was right. Is that a good or bad thing? It’s obviously serious enough for Bond to pull himself out of retirement.

Now I need to make another call. I punch in the familiar number and after a few rings my contact picks up. “Felix, it’s Levie. Has Bond been in contact with you?”

“It’s funny you say that. He’s headed to meet up with one of my contacts in Cuba as we speak.”

Perfect. For now I’ll follow Bond’s warning and stake it out here to do a little snooping. What M doesn’t know won’t kill him.

“Thanks, Felix. I owe you big time if we ever meet in person.”

On the other end the man chuckles. “Don’t mention it. Bond speaks quite proud of you and any pupil of his is a friend of mine. Keep in touch, Levie.”

[thisworldisablackhole]

I’ve been wanting to talk about the 1982 film adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s groundbreaking novel "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?" since I finally watched it for the first time ever a couple weeks ago. I’m going to dive into my thoughts on the book first since I read it prior to watching the film and I think that perspective is important to keep in mind. This is gonna contain lots of spoilers, so look away if you haven’t read or watched yet.

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? is hilarious. First and foremost. The sense of humour in this book is subtle but knee slappingly funny at the same time. The subtly of the humour comes from the normalization of absurdity that persists as basic truths in the lives of this novel’s inhabitants. Such basic truths that said inhabitants would never understand why you think their lives are funny. In fact, there is nothing funny at all about having to perform regular maintenance on my electric sheep (because I can’t afford a real one) in order to keep my neighbours from suspecting that I lack empathy and therefore may be a humanoid robot, thank you very much!

One of my favourite things about this book by far is this overwhelming obsession with living creatures. In a real life dystopian future, the extinction of animal life would be accepted for what it is. Sure, it would have catastrophic effects on our eco system, and common house cats (if kept alive) would become exotic symbols of status for the ruling class. The thing that sets Dick's universe apart from ours (for now at least), is the existence of androids so realistic that it is impossible to tell them apart without putting them through an empathy test. Androids can fake empathy, but their autonomic nervous system won't align with their response. Their heart rate won't rise, their pupils wont flutter. It's because of this that simply owning and caring for an animal becomes proof of the owners humanity. An android would never feed a squirrel three times a day and make sure it's cage is clean. Surely not.

Bounty hunter Rick Deckard is stopped dead in his tracks by this obsession multiple times throughout the book. His electric sheep is beginning to show signs of failure, and furthermore, his neighbour has a real horse. This makes Rick feel like a lesser man. Why shouldn't he also have a real animal? He stops at a local dealer to find that the cost of an organic heartbeat would cost him thousands upon thousands of dollars. He could put a down payment on a goat for $3,000, but he would have to work all day and retire at least three andy’s to afford it. Philip K. Dick sneaks in tangents about animals and their cost into this book in such a witty way that it just reads as pure comedy gold every time.

Aside from being really funny, this book is also touching and emotional. Secondary main character John Isadore is a “chicken head”; someone who has suffered neurological damage from the dust of decay that encapsulates earth. He didn’t pass the IQ test that would allow him to emigrate to mars, so he lives alone in an abandoned building with his only company being the television, and his empathy box which he can use to fuse with Mercer (a sort of religious figure and experience). John has a heart of gold and his main motivations in the book are connection and acceptance. When he discovers a fugitive android has moved into his otherwise empty building, he immediately formulates a plan to make this stranger feel welcomed. He brings to them… a cube of margarine. That’s what good neighbours do, right? At the end of the book, Rick eviscerates John’s new companions, turning his apartment into crime scene to be evacuated at once. He is kicked back to square one, left with nothing and no one. To see someone so pure in their intentions be taken advantage of and dismissed is one of the most twisted and heartbreaking ends to a story I’ve ever read. Damn you Philip.

I didn’t fully grasp some of the stuff about Mercerism to be honest. Fusing with the empathy box, trudging up a hill and getting stoned by imaginary rocks that somehow manifested with real wounds. It was all a bit hard to follow, but it was visceral and added a layer of complexity to the culture of Dick’s world that I appreciated.

I was a huge movie geek in my later teens and early 20s when I was an underachieving NEET living at home and doing fuck all. I recall times where I would just lay on the couch and watch 3-4 movies in a day. I was addicted to the feeling of gut wrenching emptiness I would get after watching a bleak, honest tragedy like Ordinary People or Oslo, August 31. Blade Runner had been on my watch list for years, but for some reason I never felt inspired to watch it until I finally read Philip K Dick's book. Perhaps at the time I just wasn't interested in sci fi detective stories. Seeing Harrison Ford dressed in a trench coat and tie reminded me too much of my dad's infamous Columbo marathons.

I'll get the pro's out of the way first. Blade Runner is visually stunning. It's absolutely dripping in style. The set design is incredible, showcasing a colourful neon city that is equally as dominated by futuristic technology as it is garbage and degeneracy. The director portrays this world in a highly cerebral fashion that will make you feel like you're in a dream state, for better or worse. Unfortunately the visual side of the film is about all it has going for it, and it feels like they put so much effort into making things look good that they forgot how to tell a good story. If I hadn't read DADOES? prior to watching this movie I would have had no idea what was going on. Dialog is sparse and dry and character development is almost non existent. Characters are introduced to you like you are just supposed to know who they are already. Luckily I did.

I am aware that Blade Runner is simply based off of the book and not a 1:1 adaptation, so I won't fault it for being different. I will however criticize it for it's complete lack of humour or emotional depth. They stripped out almost every facet of the world that made Dick's novel so captivating to focus solely on the narrative of a bounty hunter tracking down androids. There are no empathy boxes. There is no talk of Mercerism. Rick doesn't even seem to care about animals. Not to mention the awkward "love" scene between him and Racheal. Not only was it fully consensual in the book, but it was actually all part of Racheal's plan to cause Rick to feel some sort of empathy towards androids and stop killing them. In the film it comes off as chauvinistic.

On the flip side, J.F. Sebastian, who is based off of John Isadore's character, is hard to empathize with (ironic, no?). J.F. Sebastian is an oddball, but he is by no means a chicken head. He's a genetic designer for the Tyrell corporation who works on androids and builds living toys to keep himself company in his spare time. I did enjoy the spin on his character to an extent, but he doesn't have half the charm of Isadore, and I was beginning to feel frustrated by the writers decisions to copy some things from the book word for word while completely altering others.

The best part of the whole film for me by far was the ending fight/chase scene between Rick and Roy Batty. Now that shit had my full, undivided attention. Roy's full blown psychopathy in this scene was chilling - dislocating Rick's fingers and then playing mind games, slowly counting down from five to give him a head start. Roy cries over Pris' dead body and it makes you question exactly who is lacking empathy here. The sound of rain fills the scene as Roy howls like a wolf and stalks our protagonist through large barren rooms of a haunted mansion. One of the coolest parts of this sequence to me is the verticality of it all. Rick scales a towering cabinet to break through the ceiling into the second floor where he finds a bathroom to hide in. Roy then slams his head through the tiled wall which culminates in a scene clearly inspired by The Shining. From here the chase continues upwards by going out the window and scaling the buildings gothic exterior toward the roof.

Roy could have easily killed Rick during any point during this face off, but instead chooses to save him from falling to his death. Roy hints that all he wanted was to make Rick feel the same sense of fear that androids are faced with their whole lives, living as slaves on Mars. Roy then sits down, cradling a dove, and reaches the natural expiration date of his design - powering off forever. I could probably watch this whole ending altercation scene over and over again. The tension, symbolism and poetry of it all puts the rest of the film to shame.

In conclusion, Blade Runner was disappointing with it's lack of a fleshed out world, flat character arcs and ineffective story telling. It was however highly successful in it's ability to communicate a palette of moods with it's visceral, dream like direction, stunning set design and strong visual identity. I just found myself longing for the sense of humour and cultural richness that made the original story so appealing. I wanted to see Rick's electric sheep. I wanted to hear him chastise Isadore (Sebastian) for setting a spider loose instead of capturing it in a jar to sell like any other sane person would. It's those kind of silly details that would have really enriched the narrative of the film.

Guess I'll just read the book again.

[sometimesiwritetoo]

I know that Hob’s whole thing in 1589 is meant to show him being shallow and set him up for a high before a fall. But, at least in the Netflix show, I cannot find anything wrong with Hob’s desire seemingly to be to get married, have kids, and make enough money to live comfortably. In fact I think it speaks to his character in some way in that he finds out he’s immortal and rather than taking these risks or painting himself out as a god or a cult leader in a quick attempt for power and wealth he simply takes advantage of his extra time to build a comfortable life for himself he might not have been able to do otherwise in a normal lifespan.

Now, for Morpheus this might be a bit boring. It’s like a character who seemingly has no conflict in their lives. Nothing juicy to hang onto and enjoy. Especially since his entire wager was based on the fact that he expected Hob to tire of the whole thing within a century. So he gets bored and moves on for the night and seems far more invested come the following centuries when Hob loses it all and still manages to hold on to this spark for life. But it’s also interesting that he didn’t see this happening given that Hob’s whole spiel in the previous century is this fascination over the smallest bit of improvement. Sure playing cards aren’t that interesting when you’re so devoted to your function for the universe but if you’re some peasant that potentially can’t read much less have regular access to books the advent of even the most basic bits of entertainment is amazing. And that continues onward. Hob even carries a giant, old phone to their meeting in 1989. This is a man who sees something new and wants to learn about it and that cycle can entertain him for as long as humanity is discovering something. He’s the kind of immortal that I could see being an expert at computers and video games because he was one of the first people to take an interest in them. If you told me Hob spent a decade learning how to program before flitting onto something else then I would believe you without hesitance.

[likeshipsonthesea]

mianmian gets to the lan sect lectures, discovers very quickly that every one of her peers has decided to use this time to figure out how quickly they can get into bed with someone of the opposite sex, and decides almost immediately that she has to pick a suitably unattainable guy to have a crush on.

the thing is, mianmian is lanling jin’s head disciple. she is capable, intelligent, and very very gay. the last of these things she isn’t exactly keen on telling people yet for a variety of reasons up to and including jin zixuan will be so awkward and stubbornly supportive about it and she doesn’t know how to deal with that yet

so when her friends giggle over the other young masters and finally turn to mianmian-- who’s trying to memorize at least some of the fifty-thousand rules before their quiz tomorrow--and they ask her, “who do you like, mianmian?” she says the name that she carefully picked out of a handful of options.

“lan-er-gongzi,” she says, without looking up from her textbook, and she assumes that will be the end of it. 

lan wangji is both incredibly attractive and unrelentingly resistant to all attempts to flirt with him. she, like half the other female cultivators, can moon over him (or pretend to moon over him) all they want and nothing will come of it. it’s perfect. she’s a genius. the worst she’ll have to do now is pretend to be infatuated with him when her friends start gossiping. it’s fool proof.

spoiler: it’s not

it’s not, no, because her friends are horrible and immediately start gossiping about it to everyone, and usually mianmian wouldn’t care but then jin zixuan finds out. jin zixuan, whose marriage complex is being brought to center stage with the forced proximity to his bride-to-be. jin zixuan, who for some reason decided he has to live his stolen crush-addled youth vicariously through his only real friend that isn’t related to him. jin zixuan, who for some godforsaken reason takes it upon himself to contrive situations for mianmian and lan wangji to be alone together incessantly.

it unfortunately takes mianmian longer than she would like to figure out what’s happening. she’d give herself a break for it-- she was being responsible and studying, thank you very much-- but she doesn’t have much sympathy for her own stupidity seeing as she’s currently locked in a section of the lan library with the second jade of lan

and suddenly, suddenly she’s just so fucking tired. of studying, yeah, the tests here are brutal and there’s no one to bribe to make sure she doesn’t lose points on stupid things, but also tired of lying to the people she loves and tired of training this hard and being an amazing cultivator only for people to care more about her eventual marriage-- to a man of all things!-- and also, let’s be real here, she’s been in lectures with beautiful capable intelligent women for like months and she’s losing her gay ass mind

and so maybe, possibly, as she’s locked in a library with a clearly confused and annoyed second jade of lan she kind of, momentarily, loses it and rants all of this at his steadily widening eyes

at the end of it, she realizes with no small amount of panic that she’s just confessed not only her attraction to women but the fact that she’s been letting wen qing’s ears of all things distract her from her studies. if anything, she’s sure lan wangji will fault her for inattention

but the second jade of lan, after a drawn-out moment filled only with mianmian’s labored breathing and rising panic, simply says, “i understand.”

mianmian stops. she squints. she tilts her head. she squints some more. lan wangji’s ears go pink and just like that she realizes -- “you’re a cut-sleeve.”

lan wangji’s ears go even pinker. he doesn’t nod, or agree, or outwardly react in any way, but mianmian is a capable, intelligent cultivator, and she’s sure of it.

mianmian sighs with a relief she didn’t know she could feel. “thank the gods.”

lan wangji doesn’t seem to know what to make of this response, or mianmian’s increasingly frequent trips to the library following their conversation, or mianmian’s staunch determination to befriend the guy, but that’s alright. mianmian is old hat at befriending awkward sect heirs by this point.

it’s not like lan wangji expressed any desire for her friendship, but the prospect of not being the only one with absolutely no interest in the straight shenanigans happening at gusu lan summer camp is enough to let mianmian ignore his obvious confusion. lan wangji is a great listener and only sometimes blushes when mianmian waxes poetic about the beautiful women she’s forced to surround herself with every day

“no but you don’t understand,” mianmian insists, alone in the library with lan wangji, “jiang-guniang asked me to help her with a sword form. i put my hands on her waist. i said something idiotic bc she was so pretty and right there and then she laughed. lan wangji. i’m in love.”

“yesterday you were in love with wen-guniang,” lan wangji says as he impassively turns a page in his book. “has this changed?”

“no, i’m in love with both of them. all of them. lan wangji. they’re all so pretty all the time. it’s horrible.”

lan wangji presses his lips into a firmer line, which mianmian’s come to understand means he’s repressing a smile. “i’m sorry to hear it brings luo-guniang such trouble.”

mianmian groans, fairly undignified, but that’s a lost cause with lan wangji at this point anyway. “i swear, if jin zixuan says one more bad thing about her i’m going to punch him and marry her myself.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” which mianmian takes to mean that he supports her in this line of thinking, which she finds both quite sweet and ridiculously funny.

grinning, she teases, “lan-er-gongzi, if i do end up marrying jiang-guniang, will you bear witness to our elopement?”

lan wangji’s lips press again, this time in the way that means he’s repressing a frown. “jiang-guniang’s brothers wouldn’t allow for an elopement,” he says.

mianmian huffs. “as if yunmeng or lanling will deign to host our wedding.”

lan wangji appears to ponder this for a moment before he says, “gusu will host it,” and it’s at that moment that mianmian realizes she’s actually gone and fucking befriended the second jade of lan.

what is her life.

of course, it’s not long after that that she goes to find jin zixuan and explain that she can’t make their weekly sparring match today because she has plans with lan wangji (jiang yanli tenderly brushed some of mianmian’s hair away from her forehead while they were working on sword forms and if mianmian doesn’t tell someone about it she’s literally going to explode) and she’s trying to be as polite as possible only for jin zixuan to scoff and pout (”i don’t pout”) and say, “i never took you for one of those women who throw themselves so wantonly at a man”

it’s only for having been friends with this absolutely horrible communicator for most of her life that she doesn’t immediately punch him in the face. “what did you just say to me,” she demands, but jin zixuan just sets his jaw and looks away, flushing down his neck in the way his mother describes as unbecoming and--

and mianmian suddenly realizes that her ridiculous best friend is jealous of lan wangji. 

(in a friend way, of course, he’s like her brother, the one time his mother implied that he ought not get too close to women in case it jeopardizes his betrothal to jiang yanli, he insisted he didn’t have any female friends repeatedly as his mother delicately danced around outright saying mianmian’s name until finally she broke and jin zixuan was basically like huh?? mianmian doesn’t count?? she made me eat dirt like six times when we were kids)

the sheer ridiculousness of jin zixuan, to set her up with a guy and then get jealous when she spends all her time with him

and fuck her, but she loves her stupid awkward ridiculous sect heir best friend and she doesn’t want him to think she’s gone and left him for someone else (gods know jin zixuan’s loyalty complex rivals his marriage one (on second thought the two might be connected)) and so, after making a few quick decisions, mianmian grabs her stupid best friend by the wrist and pulls him to the library

he protests all the way there, but he’s been letting her drag him wherever she wants since they were five and it isn’t as if he’s going to break the pattern now. she drags him to the library and sits him down across a startled lan wangji and then finally breaks and gushes about jiang-guniang’s fingertips brushing her forehead and doesn’t look at jin zixuan once the whole time

lan wangji, on the other hand, sends jin zixuan frequent glances, as if worried on mianmian’s behalf, which is super sweet and also how the fuck did mianmian get two awkward sect heirs to care about her platonically wtf. she spares a thought for her poor auntie, who would’ve loved to have a sect heir care about her niece in much less platonic ways.

at the end of mianmian’s rant, jin zixuan is blinking quite a lot. “you like women?” he asks. he’s always been a bit slow on the uptake. mianmian nods. “you like jiang-guniang?”

mianmian shrugs. “more or less. she’s just really pretty and i’m dying about it. it’s fine.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” sympathetically and jin zixuan continues to gape.

mianmian winces. “you’re not going to be weird about this, are you?”

jin zixuan shakes his head quickly. “no, no-- of course not, i--you know that i--you’re my best friend, i don’t care--what does it matter to me, who you want to--to touch your hair.”

it’s probably the most awkward sentence he’s said to her in years, but possibly more articulate than she’d been expecting. it makes her tear up regardless and she punches him in the shoulder to hide it, and that’s basically how the three of them start hanging out in the library nearly every day after lecture.

sometimes they go to the sparring ground, bc who’s better sparring practice than the second jade of lan? and sometimes (once or twice) mianmian manages to convince lan wangji to join her and jin zixuan for lunch in caiyi town when they don’t have lecture, but mostly they meet in a secluded part of the library where mianmian can rant about how pretty all the women at lectures are, jin zixuan can turn pink whenever she mentions jiang-guniang, and lan wangji can “mn” and nod sympathetically at all the right parts

and mianmian thinks that’s going to be the end of it, they’re just going to be friends now and everything else will move on as usual, bc by some ridiculous trick of fate lan wangji and jin zixuan seem to like each other. which makes sense in hindsight bc they’re both awkward sect heirs who care about cultivation and people a lot even if they’re not great at showing it 

(and he’d never say it but mianmian thinks jin zixuan’s easy acceptance of her liking women is probably the first time lan wangji’s ever seen someone accept that kind of thing before (maybe, possibly, other than his brother, lan xichen seems really cool, even if he does smile kind of intensely at mianmian whenever he happens upon her hanging out with his little brother.))

so they’re friends, they’re unexpected friends, and sometimes lan wangji even makes jokes in that dry deadpan way of his and sometimes jin zixuan doesn’t completely trip over his own words and manages to act like a normal human being and mianmian gets two idiots to care about and a perfect place to vent her womanly frustrations, and she thinks that’s the end of it and then wei wuxian accosts her after lectures one day

“do you like lan zhan?” he asks accusingly, eyes narrowed to slits. “what am i even asking, of course you like lan zhan, but do you like-like him?”

mianmian thinks sadly to herself that she’s much too into women to be dealing with all these men’s emotional problems. “lan wangji is my friend,” she says, carefully sidestepping wei wuxian, who continues to squint at her suspiciously. really, he’d been amusing when he flirted with her, but this? this is just ridiculous.

“does he know that?” wei wuxian asks. “because if he doesn’t, that’s just leading him on, and it’s really not nice to--”

“lan wangji knows we’re friends,” she says, trying to enunciate to get her point across clearly. “you can ask him, if you don’t believe me.”

wei wuxian squints a moment longer before he turns and flounces off. mianmian thinks this is the end of it until she’s accosted again after dinner with, “he said you were friends!”

for some reason, wei wuxian seems even more troubled by this than earlier. mianmian tries to suppress her eyeroll. “i told you he would?”

“but how,” wei wuxian says, suddenly whining. “i’ve been trying to be his friend for months and he refuses to acknowledge me.”

oh, mianmian realizes with a quickly dawning horror. she and lan wangji are not the only cut-sleeves at cloud recesses this summer. (she has suspicions, of course, but no confirmations on any of the others, but this. wow.)

she also realizes, decides really, that she has enough repressed sect heirs in her life and she cannot deal with wei wuxian’s cut-sleeve crisis or his evidently large attachment to lan wangji right now. she turns decisively and walks the fuck away. not her problem.

the lectures end eventually, of course, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to lanling with a horde of golden robed disciples, freshly deflowered and not all together more learned. it’s what, she thinks grimly, their sect leader would want.

the first few weeks go by and she realizes that she’s missed unloading about her frequent and fast falling-in-loves. jin zixuan just doesn’t sympathize right, bless him, and so mianmian takes to writing letters. she sends two without receiving a reply and just starts to write the third when a letter with the gusu symbol is delivered to her room.

she’s almost expecting to find a single mn written on the page-- she would’ve been delighted with just that, actually, the sheer hilarity of such a thing-- but instead she finds several pages filled with lan wangji’s perfect calligraphy.

it’s more than he’s ever spoken out loud, but it seems that propriety dictated that he return mianmian’s extensive letter with one of his own and he’s done so admirably. he responds to the events mianmian detailed in her letters-- most succinctly summarized as, woman are gorgeous and i’m dying-- and then writes about his own life in cloud recesses. apparently, he went on a little night hunt with wei wuxian and also nie huaisang and jiang cheng were involved? seriously, mianmian misses out on all the fun.

he’s also apparently taken in some rabbits, which mianmian immediately decides she needs to see. lan wangji, sitting prim and proper, with a bunch of rabbits in his lap? amazing. wei wuxian would die on sight, she’s sure of it.

he also ends his letter with a warning about qishan wen that has mianmian frowning. she takes it to jin zixuan who reads the paragraph and frowns. “i’ll talk to my father about it,” he says, which she can tell by his hunched shoulders he doesn’t expect to do much.

“talk to your father’s general too,” she suggests, because that man at least thinks with his head and not his dick.

jin zixuan nods but doesn’t hand back the letter. he skims it instead with a barely concealed surprise at lan wangji’s previously hidden expansive vocabulary. mianmian snorts and grabs the letter back. “you can write to him yourself, you know.”

jin zixuan flushes down his neck. “i know!” he insists and then turns and runs away because he’s a coward. mianmian shakes her head, smiling. what an idiot.

still, another week goes by and a letter arrives from gusu and, when mianmian takes it, assuming it’s for her, she finds it addressed to jin zixuan in lan wangji’s impeccable calligraphy and she grins to herself like an idiot. look at jin zixuan, making friends

(she suddenly understands why lan xichen gave her all those intense smiles during the lan lectures)

they go on in this way, writing letters to lan wangji from lanling. sometimes mianmian steals jin zixuan’s letters before he sends them so she can squeeze in some ranting in the post script without wasting a whole second thing of paper, and lan wangji replies dutifully, more verbose than he ever was in person, and it’s nice okay, like. she and jin zixuan have been best friends since they were kids but neither of them has ever been any good at listening and lan wangji is just so honest and earnest in everything, like they didn’t realize that people outside of lanling were actually not always plotting your downfall??? who woulda thunk

and then of course the wens go and ruin everything. they go to the wen lectures bc jin guangshan doesn’t want to “anger our trading partner” like the guy isn’t obviously going to burn carp tower to the ground the first chance he gets, and mostly mianmian and jin zixuan are just vaguely annoyed and put out about it

then lan wangji shows up with a broken leg and a burned sect and they are ready to murder some dudes

after years of breaking in and out of carp tower she and jin zixuan are old hats at this breaking and entering stuff and they manage to sneak into lan wangji’s guest quarters and tend to his wounds, ignoring all his silent glares and ranting furiously about how they’re going to murder wen chao by making him choke on his own dick (mianmian) and how they’re going to war with the wen sect even if he has to threaten his father with acknowledging all of his bastards as proper siblings in public to do it (jin zixuan)

lan wangji just says “mn” and makes various muted, distressed expressions, but mianmian thinks he’s touched.

“are your brother and uncle alright?” she asks, when she’s set his broken leg and forced pain medication down his throat.

“brother escaped with our sacred texts,” lan wangji says. “uncle is... unwell.”

mianmian knows lan wangji hates touch but the way he says it, with this horrible little frown, emoting more than she’s ever seen him, his barely suppressed anger and grief literally making his hands shake into fists, mianmian can’t help it, she hugs him. “we’ll make them pay,” she swears into his shoulder, ruining the lines of his robes with how she clutches at them. “i promise you.”

jin zixuan awkwardly pats lan wangji’s shoulder, which is a lot for him and mianmian spares a moment to be proud of his growth.

unfortunately, wen chao seems to delight in torturing lan wangji on his injured leg and lan wangji refuses to show weakness, which both impresses mianmian and pisses her the fuck off. she approaches wen qing (and her still gorgeous ears, sigh) and asks her to tend to lan wangji, since she’s like actually a doctor. wen qing does bc she’s beautiful, intelligent, and kind and mianmian spends most of that night sighing deeply as she relates this to a significantly drugged lan wangji

the cave of the xuanwu goes about the same as you’d expect. wei wuxian saving her from getting her face branded off is pretty rad of him, though he could’ve just like knocked the brand away instead of throwing himself in front of it but whatever, you do you boo. when lan wangji gets left behind the two of them don’t even have to wait for jiang cheng to grumble and ask for their help, they’re already on their way to carp tower for an army, thank you very much

when they rescue wei wuxian and lan wangji and lan wangji immediately turns to walk back to cloud recesses on a broken leg mianmian says, “fuck no, that’s not happening, you’re getting medical attention and then someone will fly you back home, okay, wtf wangji, sit down.”

and lan wangji is a stubborn bitch so obvs he’s like no but he’s also severely starved, dehydrated, and injured, so it’s not like he can just shake off mianmian holding him down and this goes on long enough for wei wuxian to wake up and see mianmian touching lan wangji, and something in his poor little brain just like breaks and he demands says, “lan zhan, come back to lotus pier with us.”

his argument, as he explains it, is that lotus pier is closer (it’s not; they’re just as close to carp tower as lotus pier) and that it’s closer to gusu for when lan wangji has to return home (it’s not; same deal) but then jiang cheng starts yelling, possibly in support possibly not mianmian’s not sure, and jin zixuan starts getting awkward, probably about the whole golden army behind him bc he’s a nerd and hates being overdressed at functions (this is basically the same thing), and mianmian looks at lan wangji and she sees--

something. she isn’t sure what exactly, but lan wangji looks at wei wuxian as he argues with his brother and he presses his lips into a thin line in the way that means he wants to smile and mianmian thinks, oh. maybe wei wuxian isn’t completely unrequited in his lan wangji obsession.

growing up in lanling, she knows how to use information to her advantage, so she immediately says, “young masters wei and jiang, what a great idea. lanling’s disciples would be pleased to accompany you and second young master lan to lotus pier to ensure everyone’s safe arrival.”

everyone splutters, indignant, confused, awkward (jiang cheng, wei wuxian, and jin zixuan, respectively) but lan wangji narrows his eyes at mianmian and doesn’t try to convince her to let him walk to gusu again, so she counts it as a win.

sect leader jiang and his wife seem surprised and annoyed, respectively, to be taking in so many guests, but sect leader jiang merely smiles pleasantly and directs them to some guest quarters and mianmian and wei wuxian ask, simultaneously, for doctors to tend to lan wangji and wei wuxian makes a face at her and mianmian sighs to herself that she really is too gay to be in the middle of his thing with lan wangji.

turns out, walking a lot and fighting a cannibalistic turtle on a broken leg doesn’t do wonders for healing. lan wangji is also the worst patient ever, he keeps trying to sneak out and get up even though word came from his brother that he’s safe and alright and that cloud recesses is starting to rebuild after qinghe nie and lanling jin came to its aid and pushed out the wen

but with the combined efforts of mianmian, jin zixuan, and wei wuxian (and even jiang yanli at one point, bc who could say no to her soup??) they manage to get lan wangji to just rest for a fucking second, really which results in the jin disciples and lan wangji staying in lotus pier for longer than anyone could’ve expected

mianmian spends most of her time (when she isn’t forcing lan wangji to just fucking stay in bed) working with the jiang disciples, practicing archery, sword forms, and mooning after all the beautiful women here.

(”lan wangji, i know she’s scary, but have you seen madam yu? she could whip me with zidian and i’d thank her” “luo-guniang, please don’t ask madam yu to whip you” OR “lan wangji, i’m almost positive madam yu’s maids are a thing, do you think they’d let me join them just like once” “luo-guniang, could you please pass me my sword?” “why” “i’d like to put myself out of this misery” OR “she made me soup. lan wangji. lan wangji, i know you’re not sleeping, wake up, you have to listen to me, this soup”)

they end up staying so long that when wang lingjiao shows up threatening a child about a kite while sect leader jiang is away, she has a lot more to deal with than madam yu. since none of this had been a “sanctioned visit” no one actually knew that there was nearly an entire troop of jin disciples staying at lotus pier, so when the wens attack they are sorely unprepared for what they’re going to face.

(and ofc lan wangji breaks out of bed heroically and keeps madam yu from whipping wei wuxian, which means they aren’t down one of their most powerful fighters and mianmian has to suffer through the moon eyes they’re making at one another in the middle of a battle no less, she knew wei wuxian had no shame but she’d been hoping lan wangji would have some)

after the wen attack (and defeat) on lotus pier and the jin’s inarguable part in it, the war starts in earnest. lan wangji, after his long rest, heals fine and goes back to gusu to help rebuild his sect and plan for war, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to carp tower to plan as well, ignoring jin guangshan and focusing instead on his general to ensure lanling supplies necessary aid in the war effort

and war is always shitty, of course, and mianmian hates watching her sect family die on the battlefield, hates waiting for updates after every battle to see who’s still alive, hates the politics and jin guangshan trying to wheedle his way out of fighting when there’s fucking lives on the line

(and she could never know, how much easier it is, with yunmeng jiang at its full strength, with one of the brightest minds of their generation there to plot and help, with two of the best fighters not out searching for someone and instead focused on the front)

they reach nightless city after months of fighting and mianmian is ready to just fucking stab wen ruohan herself when they’re suddenly trapped. blocked in on all sides by puppets, their fallen soldiers rising again to turn on them, and it--it looks like they’re gonna die.

“this sucks,” she says to lan wangji, stifling her fear and choking it down. “i never even got to kiss a girl.”

lan wangji just says “mn.”

jin zixuan, beside them, says, “i was an idiot about jiang-guniang.”

lan wangji just says, “mn.”

then wei wuxian pulls out a fucking flute and a-- floating piece of metal?  the army of puppets and corpses stops advancing, held in place by-- music, apparently? and wen ruohan emerges from his lair, black energy falling off him in waves, wei wuxian the idiot flies forward to meet him, gets wen ruohan’s hand around his throat for his trouble.

lan wangji yells, “wei ying!” and mianmian thinks, really not fair that lan wangji is gonna get a boyfriend before i get a girlfriend

and then wen ruohan gets stabbed by jin zixuan’s half brother of all people. wen ruohan, along with his puppets and wei wuxian, fall to the ground. lan wangji rushes forward to catch wei wuxian, mianmian runs after him, finds herself in company with jin zixuan and jiang cheng. when they get there, wei wuxian is barely conscious but he’s-- he’s fucking grinning up at lan wangji from the cradle of lan wangji’s arms

“lan zhan,” he says, “you caught me.”

lan wangji nods, says, “mn,” which is basically his equivalent of i’ll always catch you, wei ying.

“really,” mianmian says aloud, “it’s so unfair.”

the aftermath of the war is more annoying than the war itself, what with all the politics and in-fighting and jin guangshan trying to be the biggest dick there ever was. jin guangshan tries to name himself chief cultivator in wen ruohan’s stead but nie mingjue suggests jiang fengmian instead and the lan sect backs him. jin guangshan tries to demonize the wens but at wei wuxian’s loud rebuttal and sect leader jiang’s backing (which is then backed by both gusu lan and qinghe nie) he’s once again shouted down. and then jin guangshan tries to propose to jiang-guniang for his son and the poor woman just seems so awkward and her father doesn’t seem to know what to say and--

mianmian elbows jin zixuan whose eyes widen ridiculously but, after another, harder hit, he suddenly stands. all eyes go to him, which mianmian knows he hates, but he bows to his father, then jiang yanli, and says, “jiang-guniang, forgive my father’s impertinence. this is not the time or place to be making such an offer, but he--” jin zixuan winces visibly. “--he knows of my feelings and wishes to make his foolish son happy. please, do not feel the need to respond.”

then he promptly sits down, flushing down to his neck, and mianmian shares a disbelieving glance with lan wangji from across the horrible nightless city palace room.

she’d really only meant for him to suggest jiang yanli answer privately, at a later time, but wow, jin zixuan really went for it. also no way jin guangshan knows his son has fallen in love with jiang yanli, so nice save face there. maybe he has been paying attention in all of their etiquette and political espionage classes.

jiang yanli flushes way prettier than jin zixuan and nods politely, stands and bows and thanks the jin clan for being considerate in this time of turmoil, perhaps they can discuss this matter at a later date (jin zixuan looks like he nearly faints at this, and mianmian feels vindicated in all her forlorn ranting. overreacting her ass)

when everything has been settled, wen qing has been appointed the new sect leader of qishan wen with promises to return land to those who lost it and pay reparations to the hurt civilians, as well as have the yin iron destroyed for good. during the final ceremony where all the sects have tea and pledge to be loyal to one another (until the next great war, of course) mianmian leans close to lan wangji and sighs, “her ears look even lovelier with her hair tied back by her new sect leader hairpiece.”

lan wangji says “mn” because he’s a cut sleeve in love with wei wuxian and has nothing even closely resembling taste.

mianmian, on her own, decides to make them both happy. before the jin clan departs from nightless city, she goes up to wei wuxian and asks for a moment of his time. wei wuxian seems confused but follows and, once they’re alone, he says, “mianmian, are you about to get me into bed, because i must tell you that i am a respectable young cultivator and you’ll need to marry me before--”

mianmian gives him her best unimpressed look (she’s had much practice with it, thank you jin zixuan) and cuts him off with, “i like women.” 

wei wuxian’s eyes go wide. “but you and lan zhan--”

she cuts him off again before he can say something so stupid she has to stop talking to him to refrain from breaking all laws of propriety. “look,” she says, “you’re friends with wen qing. now that she’s sect leader, your brother can’t go after her. i, on the other hand, very much can. if you promise to figure out a way for me and her to get close, i’ll tell you a secret you’ll like very much.”

wei wuxian seems hesitant for all of half a second before he breaks. “tell me.”

“do you promise?”

wei wuxian raises three fingers. “promise.”

“on your sister’s life?”

begrudgingly, wei wuxian nods.

“on her soup?”

“just get on with it!”

mianmian smirks, pushes onto her tiptoes, and whispers the secret into wei wuxian’s ear. with that, she returns to the pavilion where all the sects mingle as they wait to depart, wei wuxian trailing behind her in a daze, his mouth hanging open.

lan wangji, who had been watching since mianmian asked wei wuxian for a moment to talk, frowns nearly imperceptibly. mianmian grins at him and his frown grows.

ah, whatever. she walks over to him, unbothered by the quickly growing alarm in his eyes. once next to him, she turns around to see wei wuxian staring unabashedly. her smile only widens.

“you’re going to thank me for this,” she says.

wei wuxian shakes himself, his eyes focusing, and immediately starts walking towards them.

lan wangji, voice flat but wavering, asks, “luo-guniang, what did you do?”

mianmian laughs, says, “i get to give a speech at your wedding,” and walks away just as wei wuxian reaches them.

(she does, actually, give a speech at their wedding. she may or may not be drunk during it, jin zixuan gets embarrassed for her, and she starts tearing up and has to hide it in the shoulder of her wife’s lovely well-tailored robes. it’s alright, though, wen qing doesn’t mind)

EDIT: now on AO3 with a real fic version from lwj’s pov!

[nientedenada]

Terry Pratchett, Defender of TES goblins

Originally posted on r/teslore. Discovered this is Pterry's death day, March 12, so moved this tribute up the queue.

In their r/teslore notes on their story, The Adopted Falmer: Journal of a 4E Altmer Scholar and Accidental Father, @thana-topsy wrote

I think there's a lot of conversations to be had around TES's portrayal of "degenerate" races, and how so many people fall into the trap of "Kill The Baddies" due to gameplay.

Which reminds me of someone who did have that conversation: Terry Pratchett.

Terry Pratchett was a fan of both Oblivion and Skyrim and an enthusiastic modder. The full story of his involvement in the Vilja mod can be found in this article : The story behind the Oblivion mod Terry Pratchett worked on.

Pratchett was struck by the treatment of goblins in Oblivion. If you haven't played Oblivion, goblins are basically the Falmer of that game. They live in every cave in Cyrodiil, they are all instantly hostile, and you can kill hundreds without any pang of conscience. The game encourages it. Pratchett, however, wanted a different experience.

"He described how he had been exploring goblin caves with Vilja, and how he wished that he could study the goblins without having to kill them," Emma said. "The day after, I made him a 'goblin peace amulet' to make the goblins non-hostile and allow him to explore their dungeons without having to kill anyone." As it turns out, the reason Pratchett was fascinated with goblins in the first place was due to research he was conducting for his 2011 novel, Snuff.

'Snuff' is about similarly de-personed and exploited goblins in the world of Discworld. I've read it, and I wish I could say it was a good book, but I can't in honesty recommend it. Pratchett's decline from the Alzheimer's that took his life effected his writings. If you enjoy Snuff, that's great, but for me it was a moment of loss. That said, the premise, treating the goblin enemies of fantasy like TES as persons, is interesting and a summary of the plot can be read here.

I don't know if Pratchett's critique of Oblivion was known by some of the ESO devs. I think that the issue of treating "primitive races" as fodder for players to carve through has come up widely in discussions about fantasy. Goblins and Falmer continue to be easy enemies to populate ruins. But ESO also features a bunch of goblin content which I think is in the spirit of Pratchett and Vilja: a counterbalance to the goblin as threat.

For example, in Wayrest, we meet a scholar Nellic Sterone who is studying goblin society, and has lived peacefully among them. His book on his research: Sacred Rites of the Stonechewers details how this came to be.

For several seasons I have been observing the Stonechewer Goblin tribe, recording their daily activities and becoming familiar with their customs and routines. Over time I have deliberately crept closer and closer to the limits of their tribal camp, occasionally showing myself briefly so the subjects would become used to my proximity. At one point a warrior out to relieve himself behind a tree stumbled upon my observation post, and when he grunted and drew his crude-but-serviceable short sword I thought my work had come to an untimely end. Luckily the tribal shaman was nearby, and he intervened on my behalf, speaking harshly to the warrior and knocking aside his sword. The shaman pointed at me and slowly rotated his hand near his head, which I assume is a Goblin gesture denoting acknowledgement of superior intellect. Who would have suspected these so-called primitives had such regard for scholarship?

After that there were no more incidents of hostility, and the Goblins tolerated my presence, so long as I kept a respectful distance from their females and offspring. Occasionally a warrior would bark at me, but I simply replied by making the hand-rotating "intelligence" gesture next to my head, and the warrior would shrug and go back to his business.

From their gestures, the goblins find him crazy yet harmless and thus tolerate him.

A quest involving Sterone has the player retrieve a totem stolen from the goblins to end war. However, another dungeon quest just tells you to go and kill all the goblins there, so it's not perfect.

Other quests that seek to shed another light on the goblin:

Toothmaul Ploy involves a goblin tribe who escaped from slavery in Summerset and are still being treated terribly by the Altmer now slavery is outlawed. The text, Altmeri Overseer's Journal: An overseer's documentation of their failed attempt to quell a goblin uprising pulls no punches in showing the atrocities committed against the goblin people

12, Last Seed The slaves are more agitated than usual today. Last night's beating of the one called Koth seemed to stir him to an emotion other than fear, but the magus assures me the pacification spells upon the creature will keep him in line.

15, Last Seed There was another spat between the kitchen staff and the slaves today. Koth tried to take scraps from the refuse bin without permission and we were forced to have him flogged again in front of his kin. It is becoming difficult to remind the Goblins of their place.

and we meet an individual goblin, Byz, who recalls his days of slavery.

What is this place? "Chief take all from homes of old masters, put here so we see trophies! Trophies of Elf-masters who wrong us! Byz not forget beatings. Hit! Hit! Always hit in face!" You were slaves? "From big island, yes. Byz told to muck out dung pits, clean floors, run when small Elf-masters throw rocks. Chief take us away from all this, form Toothmaul tribe! Yes. Now we look on trophies to remind of us of hardship

Savage Truths in which a Redguard bard discovers a terrible truth about the settlement of Summerset.

"These look like plans for resettlement. Elven … and Goblin. They were proposing a land trade with the tribes. It seems the offer was refused." "Oh gods, this is terrible! This adventure truly is a tragedy! I can't use any of this!" What do you mean? "These tablets show the Goblins weren't always viciously territorial. Elves and Goblins coexisted, traded—until the Elves wanted King's Haven Pass badly enough to betray that trust! It flies in the face of every existing account of this region!" Didn't you want to reveal the untold story? "I sought a subject for heroic composition! There is no truthful recounting of this history that would flatter the Elves …. Sing the truth, and my patrons will loathe me. Sing a lie, and my artistic integrity dies …."

ESO's treatment of goblins isn't perfect. I absolutely loathe the quest: Schism where the slave-freeing Argonian gets murdered by the ungrateful goblins, and it's heavily implied the best ending is letting a Nord neighbour force the goblins to be "workers" rather than "slaves" to the Dres overseer, but even that quest shows more concern for exploring the treatment of sapient races in TES. I hope this will continue in a direction that would have pleased TES fan Terry Pratchett.

ETA: More information about Pratchett and TES. Oblivion was his favourite video game in large part because of the modding community. He talks about it in this interview. Scroll down to Bonus Questions.

[sugarstickery]

An Allegory Within the Dark

This is an unofficial fan translation of chapter 3 of Jujutsu Kaisen’s first light novel, Departing Summer and Returning Autumn by Gege Akutami and Ballad Kitaguni.

Summary: Mahito stumbles across an unusual human in his search for a place to call ‘home’.

Featured characters: Primarily Mahito, with brief appearances from Hanami and Jogo, along with an unnamed novel-only character

Timeline: An undefined time prior to the events of the Vs. Mahito arc

An Allegory Within the Dark

If you want to hide a tree, you go to the middle of a forest.

So if you’re looking to hide a person, you should go to the middle of a city.

Following that logic, it makes sense for curses worthy of being the true humans to set up their hideout in the city center.

Cursed spirits would actually have it much easier if they spent their time in places crammed with fear where humans and the like can’t live: deep in the mountains or in densely wooded areas, for example.

But for a group of curses plotting to overturn the current era, a base in the heart of the city is crucial for invasion and seeking refuge. That being the case, it’s also better to try aiming for a location with a high concentration of negativity.

Anyway, that’s how some employees from a scam business ended up massacred.

“This really is the simplest way to handle it. All of them nest together up here away from the public eye, so clean-up is a cinch.”

Jogo laughed while trampling the burning remains of a corpse underfoot.

Roughly two minutes ago, there were about six humans in the office.

The curses considered a few ways to handle dispatching them but ultimately decided that burning was the fastest, so Jogo quickly turned them to ash.

“But humans used this building, didn’t they? Won’t it be a problem if there’s property management or something?” Mahito asked, poking at an ostentatious vase displayed on a shelf.

Apparently the concern was unnecessary. Jogo tried to answer with a grin, but a nonsensical language cut into their conversation.

“⏁⊑⟒⟟⍀ ⎎⍜⋏⏁ ⟟⌇ ☊⎍⌇⏁⍜⋔”

“Oi, bastard—! Stop talking, Hanami! It makes my head itch!”

Though Hanami spoke in nothing but meaningless sounds, the intention behind it was somehow transmitted directly into the minds of others. This was usually unpleasant and it irritated Jogo.

When he noticed Mahito still looking his way, Jogo continued to explain despite his frustration.

“Hmph... What? There’s no need to worry. I asked Geto what his aim was, and it looks like these were the kind of underhanded humans who got involved in plenty of unethical things.”

“Hm. So basically, other humans won’t actually come close if they get that curse stuff happens here.”

“Exactly. Any respectable, straight-laced human would never come near this place under normal circumstances. It’s the perfect city-center hideout.”

“Is it really?”

“...What is it, Mahito? You don’t seem satisfied. What’s there to worry about? It would put us in a great position to start preparing our plans for the city, and it’s great for a quick escape if we need one.”

“Mm... No, you’re right, but...”

“But what? Spit it out.”

“It’s just... This room is really tacky.”

“Huh?”

With a pop, a small eruption burst forth from Jogo’s head. His narrowed eye looked like a painting of a gently sloping mountain.

“It’s tasteless, isn’t it? Stuff like that gaudy gold lion in the sparkly jar or this cheap-looking sideboard.”

“What are you even saying?! I have no idea what’s gotten into you lately, but you’ve been so annoying!”

“Movies.”

“Movies? Are those overly-embellished portrayals of humans really that interesting?”

“They’re references for my studies on the structure of a soul,” Mahito replied with an ambiguous smile.

If humans could see him, they might be reminded of a proud elementary schooler discussing the knowledge they gained from a book report.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t find the stories that interesting either, but I don’t hate the sense of visual aesthetics that humans have. That said, this room has too many useless colors and really hurts the eyes.”

“Such bratty, selfish complaints... We can just burn or toss anything that’s an eyesore.”

“No need, I’m going to look for a place to settle down on my own.”

“What? Ah, hey— Where are you going?”

Not waiting for Jogo’s response, Mahito waved over his shoulder and vanished like smoke or a gentle breeze, off to who-knows-where.

“Geez… Maybe it’s because he was born from human fear, but even knowing he’s a curse, he tends to be way too frivolous. Watching movies and all…”

While grumbling out his complaints, Jogo took a pipe from his shirt pocket to put in his mouth.

Unlike human cigarettes, this wooden pipe somehow imitated a screaming face when smoked.

“But that Mahito...”

Jogo spun around to survey the room with his one eye.

“...He says that, but it doesn’t seem tacky to me.”

“⊑⏃⋏⏃⋔⟟”

“I already said shut up!!”

--

You can only find a hideaway that suits you by looking for it on your own.

Mahito wandered through the city with this in mind. He alternated left and right turns on a whim any time he happened across a traffic light, walked alongside stray cats, or sometimes simply went in the direction of clouds that he liked the shape of.

While traveling along his chosen path like this, he keenly felt just how laughable humans were.

Though the city belongs to them, no one walking in and out of it was more free than Mahito.

Everyone seemed constrained. They were captured by ties of obligation and vanity, living in a wide, deep, big city with such narrow outlooks.

Unaffected by the enormous sky sprawling out endlessly overhead, they box themselves into their concrete city with their own hands and limited perception of souls, passing the time by whittling their lives down further and further.

Mahito even learned the words for some of these human concepts to study later.

For example, they call it “morals”. They call it “common sense”. They call it “emotion”.

But a human soul isn’t anything more than the resulting mechanical movement that comes from external stimuli.

And so they let go of freedom and live tightly controlled lives, fearing the judgmental stares of others, stooping to flattery for society’s approval.

“...What a waste.”

Everyone is bound by ostentatious shackles of their own making.

That’s why these curses know there has to be a change, as far as humans go. Those who cannot do anything but crawl in such an unsightly way under the magnificent sky must hand over the world.

Mahito thinks. He ponders over any topic his soul turns toward. He walks wherever the wind blows him.

Before long, the time had come for the sun to descend in the western sky. He could hear the burbling of a river.

--

“Not bad.”

The hideaway Mahito found was under a bridge, across the river.

It was a tunnel, vacant and huge like a temple.

Pipes ran along the inside, clear water flowing from them and into the river. It looked like wastewater was drained here after being purified, so there wasn’t much discomfort.

Apart from the humid air and the moss that emitted a peculiar grassy smell, it seemed wide enough to splash and jump around in, and the concrete’s cool texture provided a refreshing welcome.

There’s a season that curses are partial to.

Negative human emotions accumulate from the end of winter to spring, and it could be said that the rainy season served as the so-called peak of their ripening.

The inside of the damp tunnel held the same atmosphere. There was a gloominess there in the dim lighting that could easily nurture fear. It gently moistened Mahito’s skin; he felt cozy.

“Yeah, let’s stay here.”

When choosing a place to live, it’s best to trust your instincts.

Perhaps humans should do the same, but what they can’t readily do, Mahito can decide without hesitation. If he’s free when he wanders, then he’s free when he settles down, too.

Mahito stepped into the tunnel in good spirits, knocking solidly on the concrete floor.

The soul’s metabolism smooths out in comforting spaces. But…

“Huh?”

After walking a short distance, Mahito discovered “that”.

He initially thought it was some garbage or something that a human illegally dumped. But before long, it became clear that it was a sack-like silhouette leaning against a wall.

At first glance, it perhaps looked like a mere collection of rags.

But the shape of a soul was there.

—Ah, it’s alive.

Yes, just as Mahito had realized, it was a human.

The tattered clothing and wildly overgrown hair and beard hid his shape, but it was undoubtedly a human.

His exact age wasn’t clear from his outward appearance, but whether he was 60 or over 80, he looked elderly.

Mahito thought it was a bit of a pain.

There was already a visitor living in his precious hideaway.

Of course, taking care of this issue would be an easy matter for him. But he felt the same discomfort as a homeowner finding a stain on the wall of their new house.

‘Anyway, if I’m gonna deal with this, let’s get it done,’ Mahito thought, reaching out toward the old man with a little sigh.

Whereupon, unexpectedly, the old man spoke.

“...I’m sorry if you’re displeased.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know what you came here to do, but... I’m sure your mood has soured after stumbling across the home of an old fool. But I have nowhere to go, either.”

Mahito was a little taken aback.

The old man was clearly aware of Mahito and turned toward him to speak. This wouldn’t be surprising at all if he was talking to a fellow human.

But Mahito is a curse.

The eyes of a mere human can’t clearly perceive cursed spirits.

It isn’t impossible, though. If humans are born with cursed energy, it isn’t unusual for them to be aware of the existence of curses.

What caught Mahito’s attention was this old man’s lack of ‘eyes’.

As in, he had no eyes in the physical sense. Instead, in the empty sockets that once held them, there was a burn scar that was painful just to look at.

Even sorcerers rely on their eyes to view the world.

They depend on their field of vision to spot cursed spirits. That’s why so many of them use sunglasses and the like to conceal their line of sight, as it helps them remain unaffected. It also helps them maintain a balanced mind when their daily life overflows with curses.

However, that was not the case for this old man.

“Can you see me?”

When Mahito asked, the old man answered with a gentle nod.

“At the very least, I can feel you.”

“But you can’t see the world?”

“Naturally. That includes the scenery, what you look like, what color your skin is, and even your gender. Even so... I know you’re there.”

“...Are you a sorcerer?”

“Most likely not.”

“You’re being pretty vague, even though you’re talking about yourself.”

“For a long time, that’s what I’ve been the most vague about.”

Mahito began to notice something strange.

He can feel the shape of a human’s soul.

He knows the movement of a soul’s metabolism, whether it takes on a harsh form, withers weakly, or flickers with liveliness.

However, this old man’s soul was hardly metabolizing.

It was like a meadow with no wind, or a still sea, or the blue sky on a cloudless day.

No, it would be most appropriate to compare it to a stone.

His soul was like a stone on the side of the road.

No fancy ornamentation, no polishing. Unmoving, unwavering.

Calmly passing the time while growing moss.

That was the shape this old man’s soul had.

No matter how calm or how old a person is, the human soul always flickers.

As the years stack up, common sense doesn’t disappear, selfishness isn’t eliminated, and fear isn’t conquered.

But this old man was different.

The old man’s soul was at peace. He had sincerely accepted that everything would decay with time, but that didn’t mean he would throw his life away. It was truly similar to the way in which nature existed.

It was Mahito’s first time meeting anyone like this.

--

For a while, the tunnel became something of a den for Mahito.

He had gotten a hammock from somewhere, which he hung up between the pipes. He lounged in it and read, passing the time in comfort.

In a movie about life on a deserted island, a human who was desperate to survive made a hammock. Through it, he was able to regain a little peace of mind.

Since it looked surprisingly comfortable, Mahito gave it a try and it worked out nicely.

The arguments and fights of the outside world didn’t reach the inside of the tunnel, where only the burble of the small stream could be heard.

It provided a good environment for soothing the soul.

While leisurely absorbing new knowledge from his books, Mahito would sometimes absentmindedly gaze up toward the ceiling, or glance down at the corner where the old man squatted, looking as he always did.

“How do you live like this? It’s pretty mysterious...”

In the end, Mahito didn’t kill the old man.

It’s important to note that the old man wasn’t much of a hindrance for him. If it would make no difference whether he was there or gone, then Mahito figured getting rid of him would be more of a hassle.

The old man was just there, even quieter and more carefree than a stray cat.

Mahito knew the phrase: ‘man is only a reed, but he is a thinking reed’.

He found it hilarious and also genuinely liked it. It simultaneously boasted about being trapped in thoughts of the soul, while also showing that humans were frail as weeds.

It could be said that the old man was an unthinking reed, then.

No – he was even quieter than that; more like grass or some type of moss. In any case, the old man said nothing and simply carried on living.

Every now and then, the old man would suddenly shuffle off elsewhere, but he would be back to sleep before Mahito knew it. He was surely getting food from somewhere, but he never seemed to gain weight. If he lost any while in the tunnel, he would eat just enough to gain it back when he left, and no more.

It was a style of living so close to nature that it seemed more like a phenomenon than a life.

“That’s why I seriously wonder if you can see me.”

The suspicion was uttered suddenly.

Mahito wasn’t exactly speaking to the old man. Rather, his tone was that of someone talking to themselves.

But when he noticed that the old man’s soul didn’t waver even after hearing him speak, Mahito finally addressed him directly.

“How long have you been here?”

“Let’s see… I think a few winters have passed, but I’m not sure,” the old man muttered, his reply quiet.

Since they were two beings with souls who were aware of each other’s existence, Mahito felt it would be more natural to chat every now and then.

“Don’t you get bored?”

When spoken to in a soft tone, the old man also responded softly.

“I’ve forgotten how to be bored.”

“How do you usually pass the time here?”

“I don’t do anything, really. I just listen to the sounds.”

“The sounds?”

“The sounds of the water flowing.”

“...Is it fun?”

“It’s not. But I forgot how to have fun a long time ago, too, so it’s not an issue.”

So it was like that. Mahito nodded.

If this old man could no longer even feel the pain of boredom, perhaps his soul was worn down.

Humans of the city gasp and struggle through the hurt of not having enough, yet always wish for more even when they get what they wanted. Their souls grew fat and tattered through the rich accumulation of these negative feelings.

So in that regard, from Mahito’s point of view, the old man had a thin soul – but it could be said that was clever of him.

A fat and full human soul leads to a fear of losing the gratifying present moment, which in turn gives birth to curses.

“It’s hard to get your attention. What’s your name?”

When Mahito asked, the old man looked into the air for just a second.

“I left that behind. You can call me whatever you like.”

“There are humans without names? Even curses have them.”

“If you don’t meet other people, you don’t need a name.”

“Isn’t it a problem if you don’t have one?”

“When is it a problem?”

“When it’s time to be buried.”

“I don’t need a gravestone with a name. I can just be stuffed into a common grave, or maybe I’ll rot undiscovered and return to the earth that way.”

“Can’t you take a joke?”

“…Was that a joke?”

The old man didn’t laugh. Neither did Mahito.

But Mahito had the feeling that this old man was childish, contrary to his appearance. His lack of attachments created an unsullied disposition that might make him younger than he looked.

His interest in the old man simmered and surged.

It was his first time seeing this type of human, his first time feeling a soul with this form. For Mahito, this was a rare specimen.

What kind of path must life take to make this kind of human? What would be the most intriguing shape to make with a soul like that? What uses could one plan for such a person?

And what kind of curse would be born from them?

With these questions fueling his curiosity, Mahito started to chat with the old man.

“Why are you here?”

“…Why?”

The old man looked up toward the ceiling through his unruly bangs.

His eye sockets were empty, but it seems like even without sight, humans tended to stare into nothing when they were thinking. One curiosity of Mahito’s was satisfied.

“You weren’t born and raised in this tunnel, right? As a human, you must have been in that noisy city.”

“Ah, that. I lived a fairly busy life a long time ago. I inherited the house, worked, made money and supported my family.”

“So you were a human in a pretty good position.”

“In human society, yes. Looking back on it now, it was all meaningless.”

“So... what, you basically started living in a hole like a mouse, then?”

“I did that because I lost everything that I needed up to then. I lost my social status, my money, and a place where I belonged.”

“You lost it all?”

“I was tricked. That’s when my eyes were burned, so I lost my sight then, too.”

Mahito incidentally recalled the company Jogo attacked.

“You got tricked, huh? You seem pretty good-natured about it.”

“That’s because I didn’t care much about being tricked.”

“You’re a weird old man. Is this some kind of hobby where you get your kicks when people deceive you or something?”

“I’m just saying, that’s the kind of person I was back then. The ones who tricked me were my old friend and my wife. My eyes were burned in that so-called “accident”¹; they claimed I wasn’t of sound mind and body after that, and under the guise of caring for me, they stole everything I worked for before I knew it.”

“That’s a pretty flashy way to trick someone, isn’t it? You’re talking like it’s someone else’s problem.”

“Those two loved each other, and I was loved by no one. Knowing that was more monumental to me than being tricked.”

It was hard for Mahito to interpret what the old man said.

Love. Is it really such an important word?

It’s said that curses born from love exist in the world. It seems there are tremendously powerful ones among them, too. But Mahito doesn’t understand how the mechanism by which people love each other is any different from a cat’s attachment to a blanket.

Still, Mahito knows for a fact that people are obsessed with it.

“Didn’t you curse them? The ones who tricked you.”

“Not really.”

“’Not really’, huh. You know, normally a human in that situation would get angry and hold grudges, and it would make the shape of their soul deteriorate.”

“It’s true, though. I don’t think I had the energy to even consider seeking revenge or hurting them.”

“...I get it.”

Mahito nodded, filling in the blanks.

Regardless of whether or not he can guess the trends in human emotion, Mahito has studied many movies, novels and poetry so far.

Then there were the humans he tinkered with. Mahito could put together the pieces he gleaned from those things and use them to break down the old man’s story.

“So basically, you were in despair. So much despair that it was like your soul was about to die. That’s how you broke through the creation of grudges and curses and ended up like this.”

The old man slowly shook his head.

“I may have been disappointed, but I don’t believe I felt the intense despair you’re thinking of.”

“Are ‘disappointment’ and ‘despair’ different?”

“They are; this is just my personal experience.”

The old man raised his face, following the memories.

“There was no burning resentment or turbulent sorrow. It’s just... I was tired, I guess. Between work, assets, reputation, my life situation and duties, dealing with others, caring about the family name... I think I was probably just tired and worn out because of it all.”

“And that’s why you didn’t get mad even after being tricked?”

“I was at peace. They say the soul gets lighter after going through disappointments.”

The old man’s voice was calm.

It had a cool quality to it, like muddy water that had been filtered clean.

“I couldn’t see, I had no money, I had no love... But as I was walking through the city with nothing to my name, it all suddenly became inconsequential. And then, as I looked around, I saw the city in a new light.”

“Even though you can’t see?”

“Yes. When you can’t see anything, it’s just sound and wind that goes on forever anywhere you are. I couldn’t even see the walls blocking the city in. It was just endless darkness spreading out forever, like a starless night. For the first time, I understood how wide the world was. And I thought to myself... ah, I’m free, aren’t I?”

Mahito blinked rapidly.

This old man’s thinking didn’t fit any other case he had gathered so far.

Even hearing about his past, he couldn’t understand the old man’s thoughts.

But even from Mahito’s point of view, the old man was certainly free.

Without so much as leaving the middle of this tunnel, he knew that the sky was vast.

Perhaps he knew it better than any member of high society walking around freely in the city. He knew the wide spread of the sky, the soft caress of the wind, the gentle sounds of the water.

This old man, who looked like a simple rakugoka², had no property or social standing. He even lost his connection to other humans... And maybe that’s precisely why he could uncover the elusive meaning of the word ‘freedom’.

He was just existing, just being alive, without attachments, grudges or curses.

“So basically ‘not all those who wander are lost’?”

“Yes, though quoting Tolkien’s works might be a little tedious.”

Mahito smiled when the man immediately caught the reference to a book he just happened to read.

“Were you a bookworm?”

“All I did was cram a lot of information in.”

“It’s good to be well-read.”

If curses are born from the fear that humans feel, could this old man even be considered human?

As Mahito is, he struggles with the expression of human emotions.

But he was calm.

For the first time since coming into contact with humans, he had a feeling of peace.

“I think if everyone in the world was like you, I wouldn’t have been born.”

Mahito looked back at his book.

The old man, staring into nothing as always, fell silent again.

Curses are born from humans, but they also kill humans. There is no way for the two to coexist.

But in this tunnel, a curse and a human were doing exactly that.

Though distorted, this peaceful period of time flowed by gently.

--

It’s only natural for humans to hate and fear other humans.

Since they can’t see souls, they can only make guesses about the feelings of others, and they’re swayed by their own emotions.

They don’t understand that these things are just a reflection of the soul’s metabolism. They don’t even know where their soul is.

Mahito investigated the matter.

This blind man lost his sight and his connection to others, so his soul received less stimulation.

And so, no longer influenced by unnecessary things in the physical world, he spent a lot of time facing his inner world and reflecting.

“It’s kind of like a monk’s training. Through strong introversion, a person looks at their soul more often.”

Mahito walked around the city, skimming through a beaten-up copy of the Heart Sutra.

It was a sutra handbook that focused on controlling the soul. It looked like humans of the past did their own research into freeing the soul from the material world.

The old man’s life ended up in a similar state without him setting out to do it on purpose.

That was likely how he learned to feel other souls through the darkness he lived in. Mahito concluded this was the reason he was aware of curses.

“I think he was already predisposed, but... seems like it’s easier for introverted humans to show promise.”

If he gave the old man’s situation even deeper consideration, he could probably make a lot of guesses about a sorcerer’s training. There’s even a way to encourage the first manifestation of cursed energy.

In that case, it should also be possible to take a talented person and ‘make’ them into a sorcerer or curse-user.

Unleashing a curse-user made by a curse onto a sorcerer...

That might be a fun experiment. It’s easier to shake up a human’s soul by having them fight other humans, rather than just exorcising curses. Sukuna’s vessel should be no exception.

Although...

—Maybe it’s fine to do that a little later?

Yes, Mahito thought it over at his leisure.

He is free. When it’s time to move, he moves. When it’s time to rest, he rests.

And he was not in the mood to launch that plan into action.

Rather, for the time being, he just wanted to gather knowledge and indulge in thought. He also got some new books and wanted to read fantasy novels while basking in the quiet comfort of the tunnel.

Mahito’s gait became lighter. While walking alongside the throng of people, he even began to hum.

Suddenly, a loud voice rang out from between two buildings.

“—so damn annoying, yeah?”

Looking over that way, he saw two young humans: a man with long, thin hair, and a muscular skinhead. They were undoubtedly people who looked like trouble.

The long-haired man listened as the skinhead rambled on with his complaints, seemingly in some kind of sullen mood.

“Damn, it’s seriously freezing. Anyway, every last one of ‘em just puts on shitty airs, but it’s all just talk. Nothin’ but excuses. Ah, I wanna kill ‘em all...”

“You say that, but come on. You talk big about wanting to beat these guys to death when you’re pissed, but could you actually kill someone?”

“Sure. Ain’t like killing’s hard.”

“Seriously?”

Mahito squinted and listened, the conversation going in one ear and out the other.

It’s not that he disliked the way they acted or how they spoke bluntly about their heart’s desires. But Mahito knew people like this were all talk.

“Yeah– seriously, anyone’s fine, I just wanna kill someone.”

Then maybe you should do it without saying anything.

Better yet, he thought about practicing some killing methods on them. But Mahito felt the light weight of the book in his hand as he reached out, and he stopped.

Rather than sparing any consideration for this, he just wanted to go back to the comfort of the tunnel and read.

“I’ll kill ‘em.”

The skinhead’s grumbling voice sounded like a spell.

But the words would find no power or heart to shelter in. Shut away between these buildings, the most a person can do is talk to themselves. It’s best for humans like this to stick to the narrow back alleys, foolishly thinking they’re enjoying a wide world.

Mahito averted his gaze and made his way back home.

--

“Why did Gregor become a bug?”

Mahito suddenly asked the old man, not taking his eyes off the novel.

It was a famous book by Franz Kafka.

A story in which a human unexpectedly turns into a poisonous insect.

“The most popular theory is that the bug is a metaphor.”

“Metaphor?”

“It means he was a person who was hated and oppressed within society, treated the same way a human would treat a bug. Kind of like an old man who was suddenly blinded and tricked one day.”

“Is that a joke?”

“Not exactly.”

It was detached and dispassionate, but an answer would come back any time Mahito said something. When conversing with the old man, it felt like talking to a dictionary. He had a lot of information.

He knew about things like the inner workings of the mind and human culture, and he was smart enough to explain it simply in discussions.

For Mahito, who analyzed human souls through books and movies, this old man’s knowledge and conversation helped in its own way.

When do humans get angry? Why do they grieve?

How do they trust and in what ways are they betrayed?

Mahito lived with a different sense of ethics when compared to humans, so there were many things he struggled to interpret. The old man explained them and helped him understand.

He had a strong interest in the experiences of the old man, who had once lived among humans but didn’t act like them.

“After becoming a bug, Gregor eventually hid away like he was told to, but he still ended up being spotted and it led to his death. Jii-san³, why do you think that is?”

“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”

“That’s a quote from Virginia Woolf, right?”

When Mahito immediately and correctly guessed the source, the old man raised a brow slightly.

“You’re a pretty avid reader, too. Conversations with you are really stress-free.”

“Do you have to go back to living with other humans, then?”

“If you don’t have any attachment to the human world, there’s no need to run from it or stand against it⁴.”

“I see,” Mahito murmured to let the other know he was listening, eyes still on the book.

Even if he wasn’t looking at it, the old man’s perpetually calm soul was aglow in the dark like always.

Mahito read his book in the dim room lit by the brilliance of that soul instead of a candle.

Time quietly flowed through the darkness.

Outside of the tunnel, signs indicating the end of summer crept up.

--

The end came abruptly.

One day, when Mahito was heading back to the tunnel with an abandoned poetry anthology that he picked up on an aimless walk through the city, he felt a noisiness that shouldn’t have been there.

There were one, two, three swaying souls.

One had a very familiar shape, but it was terribly frail. It was like the dying flame of a candle weakened by the wind.

With the same unchanging gait as always, Mahito stepped into the tunnel.

As expected, the old man was there.

But the unusual thing was the crumpled, strange position that he was in.

He was also sandwiched between two younger men who were looking down at him.

“Oooi, isn’t this bad? Did this guy seriously die?”

A man with long, thin hair spoke in a tone that was not particularly anxious.

“Didn’t I say it? I said I could kill,” a muscular skinhead replied, his voice casual.

“But ain’t this just impulsive?”

“Yeah, well, the old man had some real cheek, looking down on us when he’s this weak. So why not just kick him?”

The skinhead likely played sports, given that his legs were as thick around as logs. Kicking an old man to death would be easier than crushing a can.

The two didn’t seem to have a single scrap of interest in the old man, his life or his soul.

There was no reason, no grudge, no clear murderous intent.

It seemed like they simply arrived at the tunnel somehow. They took the opportunity to do as much violence as they wanted. They beat him on a whim.

It could be said that this way of being is freedom for humans.

Mahito crouched down, peeking at the old man’s face.

The beaten visage of the man with burned eyes came into view. But even at a time like this, his expression was as calm as always.

“Are you going to die?”

Mahito searched for even a mumbled word or two in response.

“...Seems so...”

The old man answered in a hoarse voice. He likely barely had the power left to speak now. It appeared as though the two men didn’t hear him over their loud conversation.

He intently inspected the old man’s soul.

The peaceful soul was not flickering, nor did it hold anger or grief; it was simply coming to an unhurried end.

Mahito was impressed.

This old man had found the true meaning of freedom. He really was released from every tie of obligation in this world. Even on the verge of death, that didn’t change.

Being able to make sure of that with his own two eyes, Mahito felt considerably relieved. In the same way he would watch a flower wither and fall, he observed the old man’s death.

Nevertheless...

“Jii-san?”

He had a feeling.

It’s like seeing a plot twist you don’t want to see if you keep turning the pages of a book.

Or like knowing the contents of a present before you open it.

That kind of buzz spread through Mahito’s chest.

While he puzzled over the instinctive alarm bells screaming at him to stop watching, everything was heading toward its end.

“...I thought I would die alone.”

The old man’s soul dimly flickered.

A smile was on his swollen face.

“...To have someone... here to witness this old fool’s last moments...”

The flicker might have been insignificant, like a single drop breaking the water’s surface. Even so, for an instant near death, at the end of it all...

The old man’s soul ‘metabolized’.

“...Tha...nk... y...”

The old man died smiling.

“. . .”

Mahito’s eyes opened wide, and for a moment, he was frozen.

He thought the old man was different when compared to other humans. To Mahito, he seemed unfettered.

Mahito thought the unique philosophical views stemming from such an extraordinary state of mind had freed him from all the shackles of this world.

But despite all of that, the old man was still captured right in his last moments.

On the brink of death, he clung to someone else so he could avoid a lonely end.

The old man was only human.

For a human, it was likely satisfying enough. Perhaps it was even the proper way for one to die.

“. . .”

Mahito said nothing.

But what felt like a dry wind blew through his chest, leaving him cold.

He didn’t know the name humans gave that emotion. But his consciousness was like yarn tangling in on itself, wriggling around like a worm—

And suddenly, it all cut off at once.

The only thing left behind was the sensation of standing in a dry and barren wasteland.

“—So basically,” the skinhead’s voice echoed. “Police probably won’t do a proper investigation. Not for this old nobody.”

“Hey, hey, hey; that’s still a person,” the long haired man answered lightly.

“Yeah, well, that guy started it.”

“He shoulda looked at who he was talking to before he picked a fight.”

“Anyway, my pants are dirty from all that kicking... That’s a problem.”

“So fussy. That’s what you’re worried about when you just killed a guy? How funny.”

“That ain’t a person. Anyway, don’t you know I like being clean? Ahh, the blood won’t come off... Water doesn’t do any good, right?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t – but more importantly, if you’ve settled down, I’m hungry. Let’s stop by a convenience store.”

“I dunno. If you’re gonna look, buy a bento and let’s get outta here.”

Mahito quickly stood up in the same way one would when they finished looking for something in a store.

A sense of fatigue was deeply ingrained in his body.

Their incoherent voices persisted, reverberating through the tunnel, smeared with excuses and attempts to escape reality. He couldn’t hear the soft burble of the stream.

With deep-seated listlessness, Mahito approached the skinhead as one would move to pick up fallen trash.

Idle Transfiguration. The technique spreads quickly.

And thus, the moment he tapped the man’s back, its shape was no longer human.

“Ee—!!”

If he just killed them, it would create a nuisance in the form of a corpse, so he simply folded it up into something palm-sized and kept it alive.

Then, with a careless sweep⁵ of his hand, he folded up the other man as well.

“Begh—”

It fell silent.

Mahito gathered up the two, now no bigger than chess pieces, and turned his attention down toward the remaining corpse of the old man.

It was now just a bag of meat full of bones. Not even the soul remained, so he couldn’t use Idle Transfiguration to fiddle with it.

He was briefly troubled by its disposal, which served as the biggest inconvenience.

In the tunnel, there nothing but the sound of running water.

--

--

It was a day where the sky seemed farther away than usual.

Clouds peeked out from around the buildings and a good feeling was carried in on the wind.

Mahito aimlessly walked about the city.

“Maybe I’ll catch a movie. It’s been ages.”

He picked a tiny, somewhat old-looking theater and snuck in.

He’s had high motivation lately, and it seemed like some unnecessary things had peeled away from his soul, leaving him more carefree than ever.

Thanks to that, he had also begun to toy with humans more often.

If he can fold a person up and make them small, he wanted to test out inflating one instead, but he slept on the idea overnight. It was pretty fun, but he knew that he was getting too absorbed. He also felt that carrying on with too much persistence wasn’t a good thing.

A change of pace every now and then was fine, too.

He hadn’t closely checked to see what was being screened. It was mostly just plain and obscure movies, but if one went in with no expectations, they might come across a surprisingly interesting tale.

Curiously, he had that kind of a feeling.

While walking through the hall of the theater, he casually felt through his pocket, which had grown bulky with the ‘small humans’ that he had touched.

—Speaking of which, he thought that was a nuisance.

He carelessly tossed some of them away.

Opening the door, he stepped into the theater.

Perhaps because it was a weekday, there weren’t many customers. The silhouettes of what appeared to be students filled out a few seats here and there.

From where Mahito stood in the corner, he had a good view of the screen.

Soon, instead of a curtain raising, the theater was engulfed in darkness.

--

T/N: [1] In this sentence, the implication is that the “accident” was very much orchestrated by the old man’s friend and wife, who burned his eyes somehow and then merely made it look like an accident [2] The rakugoka is the storyteller in rakugo, a form of (often) comedic theater that relies solely on spoken word from the rakugoka, who only uses a fan and hand towel as props [3] A way of referring to old men in general, basically like “gramps/grandpa”; Mahito never calls him by an actual name [4] Essentially, the old man’s saying that he (or anyone) can exist parallel to human society without interacting if they have no attachments to it and can still find peace, contrary to the Woolf quote [5] Kanji reads sweep, furigana reads cleanse (the same word for exorcism that sorcerers use)

Thanks as well to Pixi for help with editing and tl checks!  If an officially translated version of the novel becomes available in your country, please consider purchasing it, or consider buying a copy of the original novel in Japanese if possible!

[noaltbruh]

Bucci gang x shy reader headcanons!

GIORNO:

-while getting along with him was kind of hard at first, it didn't take long before you both realized how much you had in common

-he isn't exactly shy, more like introverted, but he perfectly understands your preference for places with few people and feels the same way

-he'll look for every place in the city that isn't well known or simply very quiet, cafes and parks are a must for you two

-you love to listen to him talking about his dream, for some reason it makes you feel more confident about yourself too

-he may try to get you out of your comfort zone once in a while, but he won't really do much

-if one day you simply don't feel like hanging out, he'll respect that and give you some space

-if someone ever tries to say anything offensive about you, especially if it's something you're insecure about, you already know Giorno is going to summon Gold Experience and punch the dude in the face at least five times

-God bless us if your eyes start getting wet

-sometimes you just lay next to each other without saying anything. You don't need words to understand what the boy is feeling, and it's the same for you

BUCCIARATI:

-Bucciarati's presence immediately made you feel at ease, you had no problem opening up to him about your insecurities, because you knew that he wasn't going to judge you for it

-He'll try harder than Giorno to get you out of your shell, but he knows your limits and will never put you in a situation you don't want to be in

-if you're part of the gang, he'll always make sure to keep you close to him, but if it's not really possible, he'll pair you with the second member of the gang you feel most comfortable with

-he often brings you along when he goes fishing, you mostly just look at him and don't actually participate but you don't mind

-you both love long walks! You could literally walk for hours without taking a break and you wouldn't get bored

-just...stay away from Abbacchio, let's just say he doesn't like you a lot

-he'll put his own life on the line in order to protect you, but this means that sometimes you'll have to stop him from doing something too reckless

MISTA:

-Mista took a like for you the moment you actually listened to all his weird theories instead of dismissing them like the rest

-sometimes you couldn't even keep up with what he was saying, but you still sat there without batting an eye

-"See? Y/n here likes my ideas, you guys are just too lame to get them!"

-if there's something you're passionate about, Mista wants to know every detail about it, he just wants to hear your voice more!

-he may sometimes tease you a little and call you stuff like "living cinnamon roll", but you think it's funny and like when he does it, even though it gets you kind of flustered

-you always have movie nights together! Mista's favourite genres are comedy and action, but he'll watch anything as long as you want to!

-once he convinced you to watch an horror movie, let's just say it...didn't go too well

-he'll often tell you jokes trying to get you to smile. When you laugh out loud you simply make Mista the happiest person on earth

NARANCIA:

-you knew there was chemistry between you and Narancia the first time you saw him

-he's outgoing, constantly cheerful, sees the good side in everything...he's your personal little bundle of sunshine!

-he's basically got enough energy for both of you and will often try to drag you into his pranks, do funny faces...he even taught you the torture dance!

-"Come on Y/n, put more life into it! I know you can do it!"

-he won't miss any chance to rub in Mista face what a cute girlfriend he has got, he's super proud of having you by his side!

-however, Narancia has a really hard time understanding that sometimes, all you need is just some peace and quiet and he'll purposely bring you to loud places hoping to get you to open up more

-despite everything, you know that he only has the best intentions at heart and do your best to keep up with him

-except him to randomly show up at any hour of the day at your home with snacks and videogames, he won't take "no" for an answer

-you basically had an heart attack the first time he opened the front door with a kick and ran in your room with 5 tubes of Pringles in his hands

FUGO:

-Fugo is no better than you when it comes to social interaction, so it took him quite a while before getting used to your presence

-he wanted to talk to you from the beginning, but didn't have the courage to

-it took Narancia and Mista five tries before convincing him to ask you out

-neither of you want to get out of your comfort zone, so you're ok doing your usual things without trying anything new

-favourite activity together? Listening to him playing the piano, of course!

-you actually discovered his interest for piano randomly: one day you happened to pass by while he was playing and he reluctantly told you that you could stay, only if you wanted to of course

-you also really like exchanging books! Fugo often recommends you very complex novels or manuals, but you like them nonetheless; you even read together sometimes!

-of course, you both discuss them after you finish, Fugo loves how passionate you can get whenever you talk about this sort of thing

ABBACCHIO:

-did you think getting along with Fugo was hard? It'll look like a joke after what Abbacchio will make you go through

-honestly, he couldn't stand you at first and would constantly call you "Stuttering mess", "Scaredy cat" or simply "Brat", if he felt good that day

-sometimes the rest of the gang had to tell him to tone it down a little and that he was going over the line

-despite this, you refused to believe this was all that Abbacchio had to offer, if Bruno had wanted him to join the squad it had to be a reason for it

-you continued to be nice to him no matter how he treated you, and with time you noticed that he started to get more and more used to having you around

-"I guess you're...not as annoying as I thought"

-he wants you to learn to stand up for yourself, often testing you with "What if scenarios" to see how you would act in a particular situation

-Even though he will never admit it, he's very protective towards you, even a little too much

-"Uh, the hell are you talking about? The only reason why I don't want you to get away from me is because you'll get yourself killed in less than a second and Bucciarati will blame it on me"

-speaking of Bucciarati, you can't help but feel like he has become more...distant since Abbacchio and you started dating.

-you love to drink tea with him! Don't worry, he won't piss in the teapot...not anymore at least

TRISH:

-Trish fell for you in the moment you met her, she loves your shy persona so much! She think you're the sweetest, cutest person ever!

-she always brings you along whenever she goes shopping and wants to know your opinion on whatever she's considering buying. You mostly just nod in approval, but you really appreciate her caring so much for your opinion.

-"A nod isn't enough, Y/n, I want to know what you think about it!"

-needles to say, she'll fill you with gifts, 99% of them are cute clothes, like fluffy dresses or skirts

-she loves giving you makeovers, it's the perfect balance between her hobbies and your interest for calm activities

-you tried to do something similar for her... it didn't exactly work out as you planned though. But Trish knows that you tried your best and that's all that matters to her

-except Spice girl to lay on you whenever you get distracted, her presence makes you feel at ease now, even though you got quite scared when she suddenly appeared behind you the first time

-Trish doesn't even try to call her back and just let her smutter you with love: she thinks you're even cuter when you blush!

[pompompurin1028]

My Favorite Quotes from Dazai's Blue Bamboo

Once again Happy Birthday to Dazai-sensei! I have fallen in love with his works this year and here are some quotes of his that I’d love to share, as well as a bit of my own thoughts! I just finished this book on time yesterday to be able to share these! [For context, Blue Bamboo contains a collection of 7 short stories by Dazai sensei]

My Personal Favourite:

“Human beings must suffer through their terrible lives amid the love and hate that rule their world. There is no escape. All you can do is endure. Endure and struggle, struggle and endure. Learning is a splendid thing, but to make a show of having risen above worldly affairs is cowardly and mean. You must become even more attached to the world, and spend you life immersed in the hardships it presents you with.”

- Dazai Osamu, Blue Bamboo, Blue Bamboo

This quote is one that gives me immense comfort whenever I read it, till now I’m still quite unsure where it came from...

“And he buried himself in the dust of the world”

- Dazai Osamu, Blue Bamboo, Blue Bamboo

This quote in my opinion seems to be a refernce to a Chinese poet (whom Dazai-sensei had quoted earlier in the story). Alluding to his words of  「舉世皆濁我獨清」, basically saying that he is the only pure one in the world of the corrupt. But instead, here Yu Jung decides to live and dwelve in this corrupt world. This shows that Dazai-sensei is perhaps saying that  we can just simply change ourselves and keep living the way we do, rather than changing society which is a goal of the traditional chinese concept of junzi, as this would actually enable us to live happier.

“Because their daily lives are so dreary they are harbouring, all of them, some faint flicker of hope that compels them to stroll through the Shinjuku night with looks of cool composure on their faces. Walk up and down those streets all you like, not a single good thing will come out of it. This much is certain. But happiness is being able to hope, however faintly for happiness. So, at least, we must believe if we are to live in the world of today.”

- Dazai Osamu, On Love and Beauty, Blue Bamboo

I really like how bittersweet this quote is. Dazai-sensei captures this feeling so well in his works. Those last two sentences appeal to me constantly.

“The recognition of any reality begins with trust.”

- Dazai Osamu, The Samurai and the Mermaid, Blue Bamboo

For without trust, how are we even certain if what we are currently seeing is a part of reality?

“One lies to seek a bit of relief from a ponderous, suffocating reality, but the liar, like the drinker, gradually comes to need larger and larger doses. The lies become blacker and more complex, and they mesh and rub together until in the end they shine with the luster of truth.”

- Dazai Osamu, Romanesque, Blue Bamboo

 For some reason, this quote reminds me of Dazai-sensei, perhaps because of his mentions of clowning in No Longer Human, I feel that this quote is something that came from deep within him to warn the readers.

“As long as one is capable of believing that one is qualified to receive the love of others, one feels that life is worth living, and the world is a wonderful place. But even if one should discover that one no longer has the necessary qualifications to be loved by others, one must continue to live on. Even if one is not ‘qualified to be loved’, one is eternally ‘qualified to love’. To seek only the joy of being adored is to surrender to savagery and ignorance”

- Dazai Osamu, Lanterns of Romance, Blue Bamboo

Again this is something I feel that perhaps came from Dazai-sensei’s heart, which once again leads me to can’t help but love this quote. 

[madeyoumyvillain]

spoilers and hot takes y'all already warning get ready to be offended, although no offense,each to their own.

not to be controversial or salty on main but I still think Mal has no personality,,,,book! Mal is an asshole,,,show! Mal is just the local Protector and Saviour™ dude,, and being there for ur best friend is not a personality trait,,,it's basic human behaviour,,the flashbacks were cute in the beginning but what did they expect from us?? To yearn for a non existent couple who can't move past their childhood memories?? And if u gotta depend on ONE(1) childhood flashback to conclude you love someone,,,bestie i have news for u,,you don't love them they're the only comfort you've known and without them you can't function,,,which is fucking weak and SO overused,,, literally 4 Darklina scenes made me feel more YEARNING and ANGST and WANTING than 8 hrs of unasked for Malina did,,,, I love Archie and I was glad they're making show! Mal better but he's not better,he's just a different character from the one I read about in the books,,,they said they'd make him more likeable but there's nothing to like or hate,,,he just exists,,,plus it's so PAINFUL to see Alina put herself and her entire unit in danger just because of Mal,,,,the only time you can actually see real Alina is when she's with Aleksander or Genya,,,when she's in the Little Palace,,,she says she isn't into farming but Mal is and if they give her the ending they gave her in the books then I'll simply kill everyone involved,,,,I'm tired of this trope and childhood friends to lovers does not work in fantasy

And also,I'm also kinda pissed that they made Shadow and Bone this friends to lovers show where EVERYONE is trying to separate two best friends,,,,it's such an overused trope,,,and it's no fun at all,,,the voice overs,the constant "I wish I were with you" "you're my true north" was very touching at the beginning but then it started irritating me,, because that's not what Shadow and Bone is about. It's about power,it's about love for your country,your people,it's about politics and magic systems and forming alliances and civil wars and fight between countries and faith. It's about defending your country when your country wouldn't care less if you or your people live or die. It's so much more than a love triangle between a powerful immortal,a newly discovered heroine and the good guy. It's anything but a love story. And that's exactly how it was treated.

I hope they shift the focus from ships in S2 to what actually matters in fantasy. The world building and the back stories rather than the fucking meadow scene. I will be honest,I didn't have any hopes and I only watched for Aleksander and the crows and I shall continue to do so, include Nikolai to the list. And I hope they don't waste the talent Ben Barnes is just to kill him off at the end for being Evil™ when ALL his actions are now justified. He did nothing wrong and I don't condone OR condemn his actions,infact I wish he did more.

P. S- isn't it fucking crazy and infuriating how "Darkling" is a slur in the show when it was Aleksander's FUCKING NAME in the triology?? The anti darkling agenda is showing and it's not a cute look.

[ishibishie]

i said i would maybe do this two weeks ago but i'm on a steven loving high and i saw a stupid post that was basically brainless bashing and hate in his tag so i'm here to fix this with steven love and ramble about the baby boy with a........

27 RANDOM STEVEN HEADCANONS POST!

uh cw for mentioning dead parents ig. there's a lot of dead parent stuff here sorry

- steven is asexual and aromantic. he discovered this a bit "late" when he was about 20 years old. despite his high profile in hoenn, he isn't very open about his sexuality and has only come out to a handful of close friends, the first being wallace. it was also wallace who gave him the black ring he wears.

- steven is half galarian on his mother's side. he would often visit the region with her before she died, and steven has very fond memories of watching gym matches: those battles are what inspired him to become a pokemon trainer along with his mother having been one herself in galar before she moved to hoenn. his favorite place in galar is wyndon city and he loves finding any excuse to hop aboard the trains scattered throughout the region to see all the unique scenery pass by and collect rare new stones for his collection.

- he adores space and astronomy! when he can't sleep he'll go outside and look at the stars until he eventually dozes off. this also led him to look into the mythology behind the constellations he sees, and he's had a few passionate conversations with cynthia about pokemon mythology.

- when nervous, steven tends to bite his nails. this has led to many scoldings and impromptu manicure sessions from wallace!

- his biggest fear is ghost type pokemon as he hates thinking about the concept of death. he also dislikes very strong thunderstorms, and being left alone for long amounts of time.

- as a result of his pampered childhood, steven is a bit of an attention seeker. he tends to get fussy and impatient when nobody acknowledges or listens to him. there was an isolated incident of steven throwing a pebble he had in his pocket at someone to make them pay attention when he was at his limit.

- likewise, he absolutely hates getting dirty when he's not caving. a single blemish of dirt on his nice clothes will drive him mad. he hates being disorganized and is a bit of a clean freak.

- he's a big contest fanboy! if a day off and a contest line up on the same day, expect to see steven somewhere in the audience cheering the coordinators on.

- steven and his father have a rocky relationship ever since his mother died. steven always wanted to become a pokemon trainer like his mother, but his father wanted him to take over the devon corporation one day. this unwanted pressure from his father ultimately led to steven running away from home to pursue his dreams when he was 14. now, they're still on speaking terms, but that's not to say steven looks forward to and enjoys their conversations. things only got worse when steven came out to his father and was brushed off as "going through a phase". despite everything, steven one day wishes to reconcile with his father and hopes that they can be as close as they were before his mother died.

- the one thing steven regrets most is never saying goodbye to his mother. the last thing he told her was "see you tomorrow!" before she died the very next day

- he met wallace during the time he ran away from home. the two met in lilycove city, where wallace was practicing for a contest and steven happened to be in the city. steven was intrigued by wallace's skills and ability to charm him with his pokemon. the first thing steven said to wallace was a compliment about his pokemon and the two decided to spend the day hanging out. they've been best friends ever since, and steven tends to see wallace as the big brother he never had and his main source of advice.

- he loves to write, whether it's journalling or taking notes about the rare stones he finds. however, he uses the same notebook for everything so his journal entries are often bordered by crammed-in notes about rocks. good luck reading anything, though: he has very small and cursive handwriting.

- steven is a disaster in the kitchen. the only thing he can make without any risk of burning his house down is a cup of tea.

- he's a big nature lover! in contrast to his sheltered life as the son of the ceo of a big business, he enjoys looking at flower gardens and finds any chance he can to lay down on a grassy hill and let the world move by without a care.

- he enjoys classical music and can play the flute!

- due to how he grew up without many real friends as a kid, steven tends to act a bit childish in personal social situations. he'll simply say whatever's on his mind without thinking twice and randomly cut in whenever someone else is speaking. not to mention he's terrible at holding eye contact. more "professional" conversations are where he shines as his parents taught him everything about etiquette.

- steven is polite to a fault: he usually has trouble telling people no and doesn't like to intrude on other people's conversations even if he was invited to such a conversation. it can make normal small talk awkward for both parties.

- his favorite place in hoenn is sootopolis city. he adores being surrounded by history while chatting with wallace at a local cafe, not to mention taking in the beautiful scenery at night.

- clear, sunny days are his favorites. when he travels to a colder region and gets caught in a sudden snowfall, he likes to watch it snow as it's an extreme rarity in hoenn.

- he loves to read and often wears a pair of reading glasses when he finds the time to open a book.

- steven carries a few special items with him wherever he goes: these include his key stone, the first gym badge he ever earned, an old pocket knife that belonged to his mother, and his mother's galar gym challenge league card.

- he's great at various card games. it's best to cut your losses if you make a bet with steven and he pulls out a deck of cards!

- it's easy to tell if steven is lying: he'll always rock back on his heels and bite his lower lip when doing so. using this knowledge is limited however, as steven doesn't tend to lie very often.

- his favorite food is galarian curry, especially the kind his mother used to make. he also enjoys sampling the cuisine from other regions, especially kalos. when it's time for dessert, he'll never pass up: he's got a bit of a sweet tooth!

- steven is a very laid-back person and hardly anything can really upset him. he tends to laugh off any embarrassing blunders he makes and will sometimes make small quips and jokes at his own expense. however, saying anything bad about the devon corporation will cause him to go on a profane offense, a bit ironic considering his odd and shaky relationship with the company.

- steven wears his jacket everywhere he goes. he's always complaining about being cold and it baffles everyone how he can keep wearing his blazer even in the dead heat of hoenn's summers. since he's always freezing, you can often find him at home wrapped in the fluffiest blanket he owns near the fire.

- even though he's champion of hoenn, steven still feels like he's working towards his initial dream of making his mother proud. he really only sees his championship title as one of many steps he still wants to take to live the life and dreams his mother hoped he would achieve!

(i copy pasted this from my phone notes so if the format is screwy, sorry!)

EDIT 8-30-21: yes i lowkey made this post to combat the people who are bashing on steven for getting a mega evolving rayquaza and posting this hate on his tag. it's fine to not like steven or how zinnia didn't get the mega rayray but for the love of god DON'T post hate in steven's tag! the people checking his tag are people who like him and we really don't appreciate you mindlessly calling our baby boy a racist bitch because you're salty. i'm sure you wouldn't like it if i went into zinnia's tag and posted "haha suck it side character" so. don't be a bitch. be considerate, okay?

[slashersins-abandoned]

nsfw alphabet : vincent sinclair

A = Aftercare ( what they’re like after sex )

vincent will hold you while you both come down from your pleasured high . only letting you go once both of you have been able to calm down and even your breathing . he wants you to be aware , even if exhausted as he takes care of you . aftercare for vincent can last anywhere from minutes to over an hour . it depends on all that happened during your sensual exchange . his desire to touch you has him cleaning you , from damn near head to toe , with a warm wet rag . he’ll wipe away all the sweat with such deft fingers that it might just rile you up again . expect gentle kisses over any bruises left by his hands , or his mouth . if he happened to cum inside you , then he will use those long fingers of his to clean you out , crooking his fingers to drag it out , making sure that his fingers come out clean before he finishes the thorough torture . once clean your clean , he’ll tuck you into bed , taking care of himself quickly before moving back into the bed with you and pulling you close for lazy touches and kisses until sleep takes you both . on the other hand , aftercare can be as simple as cuddling and coddling you as you both come down before leading or carrying you into the shower and doing a quick rinse off . fast and easy so you can start your morning or go about your day .

B = Body part ( their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s )

vincent is proud of his hands . large palms with long slender fingers , trimmed and filed nails . paraffin wax has made it so there are little to no callouses on his hands , they are soft to the touch and surprisingly warm . he also sees his hands as useful tools . able to create art , whether it be painting , drawing , sculpting wax figures . he can do beautiful things with his hands . but they are also tools of destruction , ending lives with ease , strong and deadly and powerful .

vincent finds himself drawn to your lips , your eyes , your thighs . the first being how plush and soft they look . the look of them parted as you look up at him wanting a kiss . the way they glisten when your tongue darts out to wet them . how you push your bottom lip out when you pout . it’s hard for him to fight the desire to drag his thumb over those lips of yours only to see them go back into place before he leans in and tastes you for himself .

your eyes … so expressive . so easy to read . the emotion you hold in them , the want and need , even sadness and anger look beautiful when they dance in your eyes . he finds himself staring into them intently , seeing how your pupils dilate . there are many sketches of your face , of your eyes and those long lashes in his sketch book .

and your thighs .soft and supple . so delicate and perfect in his hands . soft and mailable . he wants to touch over him , to feel his body between them , to have his face buried and feel you squeeze down on him . you’ll find most of the unintentional bruises vincent leaves on your skin are on your thighs , inside or outside , it doesn’t matter . they are vincent’s most desired part of you .

C = Cum ( anything to do with cum, basically )

his cum is thin ( between stu and billy ) , and he cums a surprising amount ( between jason and brahms ) . while it’s easy to swallow , it is a bit bitter . he prefers to cum inside of you , mostly because he will be able to clean you up with his fingers , and seeing you drip satisfies a quiet possessiveness that he rarely shows . the only other place he enjoys cumming in is your mouth . though he isn’t fond of shoving down and choking you on his cock to cum down your throat . he’ll purposely pull back so only his tip is in your mouth , filling it and wanting to see it cupped by your tongue . he has no issue if you spit or swallow , so long as he can see it in your mouth for just a moment .

D = Dirty secret ( pretty self explanatory , a dirty secret of theirs )

vincent is a panty thief . though he often returns them , after they’ve been washed . he is very careful when he takes them and uses them . preferring to feel the fabric against his cock as he thinks of you . if he knows he has a project he’s about to dive into , or there’s a crop of new future wax figures in town , he will take what he needs to make it through those long nights alone . he prefers to steal the lace and silk , used or freshly laundered it doesn’t matter . he may be a panty thief , but he is not a panty sniffer .

E = Experience ( how experienced are they ? do they know what they’re doing ? )

vincent has actually had a few sexual encounters . no more than three . one was a drunken experience that started and ended in a bathroom stall at a bar that bo had brought him to . another was curiously as a teen with someone he can’t remember the name of from school . the other a more intense affair with a prostitute in new orleans , it’d been a strange night as all three of the brothers had … shared said person , not at the same time or in the same room , but over the course of one evening during mardi gras .

vincent has enough experiences to understand the in and outs . thought he discovered most of his own personal preferences on his own and with his own hand and imagination .

F = Favorite position ( this goes without saying )

as vanilla as it sounds , he prefers missionary . anything that gives him a clear view of your face and body as you writhe under him . he enjoys the sight of you , studying you with an intense want . though it’s not the only position he enjoys . having you in his lap is another favorite . the way you bounce up and down , leaning your head on his shoulder as you roll your hips and grow so weak and needy that you have to beg him to take hold of your hips and move you .

G = Goofy  ( are they more serious in the moment ? are they humorous ? etc . )

vincent knows that sex can be silly and fun and cute and lighthearted . so he takes each lovemaking session with a grain of salt . while he wants it to be intimate and close and passionate , serious and intense . he will also smile softly if you make a loud strange noise , quirking a brow for a moment before soothing you with kisses , luring you back into the passionate mindset he craves . sex with vincent is likely to lean towards serious more often than not . only leaning towards light heartedness if you are both just smoked and are enjoying a shared high .

H = Hair ( how well groomed are they ? does the carpet match the drapes ? etc . )

unlike the silken , long , black locks on his head , his happy trail and pubic hair is coarse and kept trim and neat . he finds if he trims them too short they feel scratchy and rough , so he keeps them a bit longer than some might , just so that there is a nice softness and not just blunt coarse pubic stubble . scratch against his happy trail or pubes and you’ll find yourself with a suddenly passionate vincent ready to lay you down and have you every way he pleases .

I = Intimacy ( how are they during the moment ? the romantic aspect )

intense gazes , roaming hands , shared glances . the act is always intimate . without that intimacy he’d feel detached and dejected . he doesn’t want you to feel that way with him  , and he certainly doesn’t want it either . if you leave vincent’s embrace not feeling as if you are wanted and desired and loved and needed , then vincent did a terrible job and will do everything in his power to rectify it . he wants you to know how much he craves you , and he’s very good at doing so .

J = Jack off ( masturbation headcanon )

jacking off is a quick fix for him . it brings temporary relaxation , a destressor when he is busy . before you , his hand was all he had , and he did it more so as a chore than anything . something he needed to do to force himself to relax . however after you arrived in ambrose it became a need . his want for you so powerful that he thought of a million different scenarios in which you found your way to his bed , or him to yours . after you became his lover however , it went back to being something he had to do because he was too wrapped up in his work to find you , or perhaps you were asleep and he didn’t wish to wake you just to satisfy his needs and leave . however he does jerk off less often , finding that allowing himself to get pent up during a project leads to a passionate and long session when he leaves his domain under the houze of wax .

K = Kink ( one or more of their kinks )

he is a voyeur . watching you intently as you undress , shower , or pleasure yourself . while he might have watched you through a cracked open door in secret before you two became official , now that you are lovers , he will at times simply sit and watch you pleasure yourself . his keen eye keeping track of every movement , ever stroke of your fingers , every twitch of your hips . it’s even common for him to have a sketchbook in hand , doing quick drawings of you to later turn into paintings .

vincent is also an exhibitionist . the thrill and power that comes with sex in semi public places is exciting . the way you both have to be hushed and hurried partly clothed as you desperately grasp at each other . it’s the fear of getting caught , and the fact that getting caught would cement in anyone’s mind exactly who you belonged to that has vincent , on rare occasion , taking you against the walls of the house of wax , in the open fields that surround ambrose , or even right outside of bo’s shop while he works . it’s a power trip that you won’t know he enjoys until you have him pressing you against lester’s truck while he’s out walking jonesy .

L = Location ( favorite places to do the do )

his bedroom . it’s a place for just the two of you . undisturbed by his brothers or the outside world . he’s taken you on the bed , in the comfy chair , against his desk . the dresser . he’s had you so many ways in his room , it’s the perfect place to feel you pressed against him .

he does also like having a roll with you on a blanket in the fields of ambrose . in nature . seeing your hair wild against the grass and small flowers , the smell of earth and how the sun or stars and moon illuminate you , it’s beautiful .

M = Motivation ( what turns them on, gets them going )

sometimes it’s just as simple as you turning to face him , half dressed and getting ready for bed , smiling and welcoming him home that has him itching to strip and make love . other times it’s the way you look at him , how your gaze up so shyly , a flush on your cheeks . it can be from you passing next to him , the scent of your shampoo triggering something in him that makes him want to take you . vincent may not seem like it , but he is very easily swayed into your arms .

N = No ( something they wouldn’t do , turn offs )

there is no impact play . no degradation from either end . no choking . these are turn offs . and as kind and even tempered as vincent can be , doing any of these things will have him removing himself from you and the situation entirely .

O = Oral ( preference in giving or receiving , skill , etc . )

he enjoys giving as much as he enjoys receiving , how ever he is more inclined to give as he enjoys the feeling of your thighs on either side of his head . you are , however , his first experience in giving oral . so he will start out cautious and slow , learning what makes you tremble and shake and moan and using that to his advantage . he is a quick learner . he doesn’t however spend time edging or teasing . when his mouth is on you he is going to work you to completion , not denying you as you cry out for him .

when it comes to receiving he is very open to it . like stated before , he enjoys it just as much as he enjoys giving . don’t expect him to fuck your mouth like a while animal . he will be slow and methodical , wanting the sensation to last . he’s more likely to want you to edge him , to rile him up for a bit . deny him his pleasure once or twice , and he will he in heaven when he finally cums . thought he will pull out till only the tip rests in your mouth while he does cum , seeing your mouth full of him makes him intensely satisfied .

P = Pace ( are they fast and rough ? slow and sensual ? etc . )

vincent can do both. more often than not he will go the slow and sensual route . he likes taking his time , working you both up , building the pleasure until it’s too much to bare . foreplay , during , and aftercare are all kept at the same pace .

the only times he will get fast and rough is when the two of you are clinging to each other in public . against the side of bo’s shop , against lester’s truck , in any room of the house of wax . if you two are anywhere you may get caught , vincent lets himself go and takes you in a assertive and dominant way that leaves you quaking .

Q = Quickie ( their opinions on quickies , how often , etc . )

he prefers actual sex instead of quickies , however if stress becomes too much , and there’s too much on his plate and he can only spare a few precious moments , he will take what he can get . he will leave you with a passionate kiss that tells you he will make it up to you at a later time . and you find yourself enjoying the intensity he shows you when he finds that time to make your little sessions last .

R = Risk ( are they game to experiment ? do they take risks ? etc . )

vincent will do nothing and try nothing that will cause you or himself pain . i would say he is not likely to experiment unless he has a good understanding of what it is that you want to try . and so long as it follows the rules he has in place for the bedroom .

S = Stamina ( how many rounds can they go for ? how long do they last ? )

he can last for two rounds before needing a break of fifteen to twenty minutes . however he will be more than happy to satisfy you with his fingers or mouth until his cock twitches back to life if you desire more than just two rounds during a session .

T = Toys ( do they own toys ? do they use them ? on a partner or themselves ? )

he does own some . he has a few fleshlights that he stopped using once his relationship with you started . before he had you they satisfied him more than just his hand . but after having you , they cannot compare . he also owns a few vibes that he enjoys using on himself and on you .

U = Unfair ( how much they like to tease )

he tries not to tease you much . in truth he much rather be teased than do the teasing . the most teasing he will do will involved making you ask for a kiss , or force you to lean up and steal on for yourself .

V = Volume ( how loud they are, what sounds they make , etc . )

raspy breathes , low moans , heavy panting , grunting . that’s what you get . he doesn’t get too loud , rather quiet in the act . but don’t ever feel as if you aren’t giving him pleasure . you are , he will show it to you in more physical ways than verbal .

W = Wild card ( a random headcanon for the character )

while vincent will agree to it , he is not a fan of being begged or bottoming . he finds it’s harder for him to cum when penetrated . but if it’s something that brings you pleasure he will allow you to do so , you’ll just have to work his cock with your hand , possibly having to pull out completely before he can finally cum .

X = X-ray ( let’s see what’s going on under those clothes )

while he is somewhat broad , he is also lithe . very toned . you aren’t going to find bulging muscles under his clothes . but you can still see the strength in his shoulder and back and arms . his chest toned but not defined . he has a flat stomach , tapered hips and strong legs and calves . follow the happy trail that down , eyeing the v of his hips and you’ll be greeted with a pretty flushed cock . he’s cut , head swollen and rosy , a darker shade than his shaft . he has a few thick veins around his base that curve around his cock . his cock hangs between his legs , even when hard , with a slight curve up . he’s long , 7″ in length and has a good girth . nothing that needs too much prep . he’s a nice snug fit .

Y = Yearning ( how high is their sex drive ? )

before he had a face and name to his want and lust , he didn’t yearn much . he craved , but he didn’t yearn . like stated earlier , his sex drive was low to average , only using his hand or fleshlights to get himself off in order to have a moment of relaxation or to just satisfy an urge like scratching an itch .

after you , he has seen a dramatic shift . while he can push it to the back of his mind while working , he yearns deeply for you . so much so that on the days he doesn’t go into his workspace , he will likely have you two to three times throughout the day . and each time is a session that can last between one to three rounds , depending .

Z = Zzz ( how quickly they fall asleep afterwards )

you will more than likely always fall asleep before vincent does . he’s observant . he likes to watch . he enjoys watching you fall to sleep . and he tends to want to keep watch over you , savoring the closeness of having you pressed against him . so trusting and all his .

[recurring-polynya]

Your thoughts and headcannons on Nemuri Hachigou because I don't think she gets talked about enough, when in reality she's pretty interesting, she's essentially, a blank slate, Mayuri's second chance that I don't think he feels like he deserves. She's Nemu but she isn't and I think people(especially Mayuri) forget that a lot, that's a fascinating position to be in.

Puttin’ this under a cut because I’m gonna say some unkind things about Mayuri and I do not want to cause any distress to the many lovely people on this website who delight in his horrible antics.

This is not so much a headcanon so much as a thing I came up with for fanfiction purposes, but it’s all I got.

Right. So, like I said, I despise Mayuri. I just hate him. I understand that he appeals to some people, but I strongly dislike the dude and go to exorbitant lengths to avoid him ever appearing in my fanfic.

Additionally, I do not vibe with Nemu 7. She registers as not-a-person for me, she’s basically an extension of Mayuri himself. Don’t get me wrong, I find Mayuri’s treatment of her to be vile and I wish someone would take her away from him, but she comes off as very robotic to me. She is conscious, but she is not an independent being, if that makes sense. She is not a real girl. It’s funny that Mayuri keeps talking about how advanced she is, because clearly he means only her cognitive and fighting abilities. In terms of recreating a person, she’s incredibly primitive compared to the other mod souls we see. Take Kon, for example, who has a fairly limited powerset, but is never presented as less of a soul than any of the other characters. An even more interesting example is Ururu and Jinta. Ururu is described as being older than Jinta, and she is clearly “less human” than him-- she has less affect, she shifts into a distinct “attack” mode, etc, which implies that Jinta represents advances in mod soul technology. It’s notable that Urahara and Tessai and even Renji, in the canon scene where he protects the Shouten kids, never treats them as anything less than people. The contrast with the way Mayuri treats Nemu is stark. He likes that her feelings and personality are limited, he sees this as a feature.

I was completely unmoved by the entire chapter where Nemu died. Her sacrifice did not come across to me as anything indicating growth or humanity-- in every battle she's ever been in, she nearly dies because Kurotsuchi tells her to. She simply prioritizes Mayuri over herself. She always has. It’s simply the logical extension of her programming. A lot of people say they would have preferred Nemu to live and Mayuri to die and for sure I would have *preferred* that, but I have never seen Nemu as enough of a character to be worth rooting for. Like, at least Uryuu would have gotten some satisfaction form killing his clown ass, and that might have convinced me for at least half a second that he actually was on the side of the Quincy.

Caveat: if some talented fanficcer wants to write a short novel on Nemu discovering her humanity etc etc, I’m all for it, I’m just saying that canon hasn’t given us anything to suggest she would do more than just shut down without Mayuri to tell her what to do.

Onto Nemuri 8. I can’t believe they let Mayuri have another one. It makes my blood boil. The dude is an on-screen abuser and Kubo had the gall to try to make me feel sorry feel him (I did not) and then gave him another one.

So, I took her away from him.

I mentioned earlier that I go to great lengths to keep Mayuri the hell out of my fanfic, and usually the way I do that is to have my characters go through Akon whenever they have to deal with Squad 12. I think I started doing this because Akon is sort of weirdly familiar with Renji and Rukia in the TYBW, but I have projected all over him and he’s mine now. The way I assume Squad 12 functions, based on my career in scientific programming, is that Mayuri is like a primary investigator-- he's the Big Ideas guy and he spends a lot of time doing wholly self-directed research. He’s the face of Squad 12, so he has to go talk to the Captain-Commander and beg for money and defend blowing things up, but when it comes to science stuff, he does what he wants. Nemu is the lieutenant, and I think she handles most of the usual lieutenanting-- paperwork, meetings, etc., but I think Mayuri takes up a lot of her time by using her as a personal lab assistant on his wacky projects. There's nothing wrong with this, but I think in a lot of squads, the lieutenant is responsible for the day-to-day running of the squad and spends a lot of time dealing with their subordinates and other lieutenants. Nemu, instead, focuses on her captain. Now, the rest of the Gotei counts on Squad 12 for a lot actually-- gigai, Hollow tracking, Dangai monitoring, etc. etc. From the point of view of most science people, this stuff is mundane-- it’s all application, not development, and all the difficulty is in the twitchy little details. It’s frustrating and it’s unrewarding and you never get credit for it, and it is vitally important. There is a certain kind of science professional that makes a career out of this. They usually have master's degrees instead of PhDs, and they are usually tragically underpaid and underappreciated for what they do. In the real world, without these people, you wouldn’t have mass vaccination sites or weather data on your phone or cute li’l robots landing on other planets. In Bleach, these are the people keeping soul reapers alive in the field. And in my mind, this is Akon’s department.

So here’s the headcanon:

After Nemu’s death, Mayuri has so much sad clown pain about it that he wants another robot child poste-haste, but can’t bring himself to do the actual work, so he shoves it off onto Akon, with a list of the design specs he wants. The last one was pretty good, Akon can handle a few minor upgrades, it doesn’t need his personal hand in it. Thinking about going through all that work again just pisses him off, honestly. What a waste!

And Akon's like, yeah, cool, fine. It was heavily implied that he did a lot of the work on Nemu 7, it's just a matter of digging out his old notes and cleaning out some vats.

Except that, right around the same time, Rukia and Renji decide to have a baby.

Babies are super rare in the Gotei, and it’s not like those stuffy nobles are gonna let Akon look at their precious offspring. But Rukia is a rank weirdo, and Akon is their pal, so she’s always like “I hear they have these things in the Living World where you can pee on a stick and tell if you’re pregnant, can you make me one?” and Akon’s brain goes, “Wow, what even is the first detectable sign of a newly formed soul, this is very interesting.” So, at the same time he’s trying to grow a new and improved Nemu, he’s got access to the developing fetus of two captain-class shinigami. So when he has to pick between eight good candidate embryos to move to the next vat, he picks… not the one with the strongest reiatsu signature, like they did last time, but the one whose reiatsu looks the most like a real baby.

Akon reminds me of a lot of programmers I know, so I always sort of headcanon him as particularly interested in whatever passes for programming in Squad 12, and I think he takes special interest in revamping Nemu’s artificial intelligence system, which is primarily based on taking in information about the world and building up a realistic personality based on people she observes. In particular, it gives extra weight to “people who resemble her”. Nemu 7 was raised by Squad 12, so she came up very Squad 12, just like Mayuri wanted. Unfortunately, toddler Hachigou Nemuri’s algorithm unexpectedly decides that she has much more in common with toddler Abarai Ichika than any of the adult soul reapers around her.

Nemuri 8 is a very successful sample in terms of power and intelligence but she’s also very boisterous, and the rest of Squad 12 is like “Akon do something” so Akon takes drastic measures: he asks Renji for parenting advice. Distressingly, Renji is full of useful ideas like “tire her out” and “only fight the important battles” and “we’re signed up for baby yoga, you wanna start comin’ to baby yoga? Your back is gonna thank you.”

Akon didn't mean to let them hang out so much, but Ichika is a very useful data point and also if he takes Nemuri over to the Abarai house, the girls will entertain themselves (i.e. chew on each other) long enough for him to have a beer with Renji and Rukia and honestly my man really needs that beer.

I don’t think Akon thinks of himself as Nemu’s dad past the first time when she calls him ‘Daddy’ and he corrects her (she only did it because that’s what Ichika calls Renji, very predictable quirk of her programming). She’s just a work project. She’s not even his project, she’s Mayuri’s project, he’s just handling the little details. Fathering just happens to be an adjacent field of study that he’s found to contain a number of very useful best practices.

I would prefer not to get into the detail of the physical abuse that Mayuri uses against Nemu 7, but I would like to think that Akon finds ways to protect Nemuri 8 from the same, or barring that, maybe this is what finally drives Akon to murder Kurotsuchi and become Squad 12 captain himself.

Other Nemuri Headcanons:

Her favorite book is Rejection of the Twin Fishes!, Captain Ukitake’s posthumously published children’s book.

She prefers to be called “Nemuri” over “Nemu.”

Nemuri’s second favorite person in Squad 12 after Akon is Rin, because he always has candy. Rin actually likes having someone to share his hobby with and helps her make a World of the Living Snack Bucket List. When other shinigami come in for gigai, Nemuri constantly tries to con them into bringing something back for her.

Rukia teaches her to cuss, but tells her never to do it around Akon. Nemuri never actually cusses around anyone, but really enjoys having Forbidden Knowledge.

Speaking of Forbidden, she is mildly obsessed with Urahara, even though she’s never met him. She’s constantly on the lookout for thumbprints of his work in modern Squad 12 technology.

The one thing she does have in common with Mayuri is an absolutely batshit personal aesthetic. She starts painting her face as a tween and is somewhat inconveniently both into piercings and inflatable outfits.

The true proof that she has surpassed her predecessor, at least in terms of humanity, is that she is able to learn the name of her zanpakutou.

Oh, if you want to read any of my fanfics with Nemuri, here's one where she and Ichika play football and here's one where she tries to con Byakuya into buying her shaved ice. I really like writing Nemuri hanging out with Byakuya because I think an adult man who navigates social settings via rigid system of etiquette and class hierarchy and a small child with a pile of Markov chains for a brain would be natural friends.

[greyias]

Okay I lied. I need to share the outtakes with you from the AI Adventure. Starting off with the epic song Fanfic Bot wrote for our masterpiece:

"Listen to this. Sixteen years have passed Since your eyes traveled my body In a way that felt so familiar So safe. I was afraid of what it meant The longer I stayed And I whispered in your ear That I needed to leave. It was a lie, a lie that you believed. And just like that, You left. But I always wondered if maybe You wanted to leave. Maybe…you just wanted to run. From me."

Theron's brow furrowed at the song, even though the words were all jumbled up in his head from the rough translation from the original Galactic Basic.

"What's this from? Sounds pretty…groovy."

"That's the beauty of music, Theron. It's kind of hard to explain. But it's from a new band.

Jonas REALLY likes poison:

"I'm going to go get Grey some flowers," he groaned, turning to go back towards the marketplace, while the other spy dropped his arm and followed him.

"And?"

"And what?"

"What about the poison?"

"You're the one who wanted to get it in the first place."

"That wasn't the plan," Jonas groaned.

"I was going to buy something else, but you had to make me go with the handkerchief."

"It was an excellent suggestion," Jonas protested.

"You were trying to make me look bad."

"You said I was your wingman. Now fly!"

"Fly, fly, fly!" Theron waved his arms in the air. "Since you are so insistent on this, since I will no doubt hear about this for the rest of my existence, I will buy one vial."

The poison for Grey? To specifically make her cry.

"A key?" Jonas said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Theron frowned at him, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a similar looking key.

"Just like the one I gave you, for your new pad."

"And which one of us is the romantic now?"

"You do know I'm not the one carrying around a bunch of poisonous insects."

"Point taken."

With Theron's help, Jonas placed the key in his pocket.

"Your girlfriend is really cute, you know that?"

Theron frowned, "Why do think I was dating her?"

Jonas elbowed him in the ribs, "Just saying, bro."

"Yeah, well, thanks for that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go sweep her off her feet before she finds out I bought her poison to make her cry."

The first time I tried to force it to open that damn box:

the box opened to reveal a smaller box inside.

It didn't look like any other box he'd ever seen before. It was covered in shades of gray, white, and black. There were no images or words, not to mention that it seemed to be able to float on its own power, simply toying with the very air around it.

"Theron, I don't know what that is, but if it's for your woman, I think she's gonna go crazy for it."

"Maybe it's a sex toy?" Theron had to admit, he was at a loss.

"Theron, you are so bad at this," Jonas whined. "And you didn't even buy one vial of poison."

"I'll pick that one up later," he said, eyes locked on the wavering box. "This is. . .interesting. I'm just. . .not sure what to do with it

“And you didn’t even buy one vial of poison.”

Yet another time I tried to make it explain the contents of the box, it put an emerald there. Which Jonas had some great advice on what to do with it when Theron’s like “the fuck am I supposed to do with this?”

"It's an emerald, you can cut it up. Make jewelry, trade it for poisons, I don't know, it's an emerald. You can do all sorts of things with it."

Make jewelry, trade it for poisons. Sounds legit.

Or when it decided Theron didn’t need to read complicated books:

"Books are important," Jonas defended. "They have the power to change lives."

"In the galaxy of hyperspace, where hyperspace travel has been discovered, there's no need for books," he continued. "Let alone books without pictures."

"I can't believe you're arguing aesthetics with me," Jonas said, incredulous. "You, of all people."

"Don't make me make a citizen's arrest," Theron shot back.

Jonas only stared at him blankly.

"Are you going to buy a vial of this poison or what?"

I’m starting to get concerned about AI!Jonas’s obsession with poison.

And finally, when the AI decided to derail everything and attempt to make the story about a different ship entirely:

"I think it's a bag!"

"A bag?"

"I think it's a bag!"

"A bag?"

"I think it's a bag!"

"A bag?"

"I think it's —"

"I think you want to kiss me, don't you?"

Jonas was cut off as Theron suddenly swooped in and planted a hard kiss on Jonas's mouth.

"Theron!"

Despite his objection, Jonas didn't try to pull away. He went with it, and the kiss turned into a full out french kiss. His traitorous hands found his way into Theron's hair and pulled him closer.

Time stopped as the two men's tongues twirled and fought against each other, their hands roaming each other's bodies, and they just kissed — and kissed — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

What’s more romantic and a turn on than arguing about if something is a bag?

I think the moral of the story of this entire experiment is: SkyNet is here. And we’re all doomed.