#does three years make it old?

[starry-bi-sky]

in 1 side we have Massive Angst of Talia and Bruce

on other side we have Okay normal life Clone Talia, Himbo Danny and Damian. Wait that is just Spy x family but Clone x Family.

No kidding. I can't say much for the angst between Talia and Bruce because I don't know their dynamic that well beyond that in one run they were supposedly in love with one another (and still are to some extent) but they're on such ideological opposites that it's never gonna work in the long term. And in another run Talia is just seducing Bruce (which iirc came about from post 9/11 hatred towards the middle east, and resulted in Talia's character being butchered by some asshole).

BUt on the other end we have Nasra, Danny, and Damian. Who I don't think ever really take on a traditional nuclear 'familial' dynamic since Danny and Damian agreed to both be brothers first and foremost - they're not seeking out a father-son relationship with each other, even with Danny occasionally being parental from time to time. And Nasra and Damian would still have an almost sibling-like rivalry towards each other as well (honestly I think it'd be very Tim and Damian-like), I think. That with a mix of "rivalry between little sibling and their older sibling's partner" too. Either way its def not mother-son like in the slightest, but still familial. Even if unorthodox

But either way they are still family with the additions of Sam and Tucker and Jazz! I like to imagine that Nasra and Damian both are actually pretty into art. Damian uses spray paints as his medium, however, and Nasra gets into charcoals and watercolors, and they compare different art mediums when they start tentatively getting along.

OH also unrelated but more on clone^2 but - danny in clone^2 like, killed like three guys when he was 17 because they attacked him and damian and nearly killed them both. Imagine being Bruce and finding that out

[lunarkittenn]

I rarely take pictures anymore. It’s like I just don’t want to remember any moment from this part of my life lol

[mishy-mashy]

Anyway I wrote about this in my fanfic notes but I think this is credible

En. He's a One For All user, young, and dies from being cut in half by All For One. He cries, but manages to pass on One For All to Nana with a smile, and hides Nana with his Quirk so she can escape.

So En. Sixth. This cutie patootie guy right here

He's been viewed as cool and collected and I'm gonna call a bit of bullshit on that.

First: he is young. He doesn't have the fullest emotional maturity (brain caps out in the mid-20s), and even if he did, he can still freak out. But that's not what I wanna talk about with him

It's more the time period in which he was born and grew up.

Kudo and Bruce, at the least, die 18 years before En receives One For All. En was born during All For One's rule, and grew up in a society struggling to cope with the new Abilities on top of Japan's crumble.

En was born at an anxious time, and grew up in the flames of it as society tried collecting itself. Since he was born while people were just barely adjusting to Abilities, and were flighty and shellshocked from the events, En was the same: used to Abilities, but quick to jump and flee. He was raised in a world like that, and thus was like the others of his time.

Look at En at his death. His Smokescreen is active. He died with his back turned. He was running away and using his Smokescreen as cover.

He later asks, fearful and stressed, why Midoriya/Ninth doesn't just run away. And Tomura calls him out on this. We'll go back to this later.

En is a product of the time he grew up—a time of trying to pick themselves up in the midst of civil war, shifting humanity, where no one trusted anyone and everyone ran to save themselves.

His Quirk is literally Smokescreen. There's no application to it beyond making smoke from the user's body to hide in. It obscures others' visions.

His Quirk hides him from others. That's its main function. He isn't as brave as the others. He's a coward when pushed into a corner. Nana describes his last smile in ch. 92 as this:

But All Might, who does this smile, describes it in ch. 1 as—

—tricking the fear inside of him. En is a combination of both; he smiled to reassure Nana, but was no doubt terrified, as he died running and got cut in half.

I imagine the reason En was the first One For All user shown passing off the Quirk with his hair was because he was too afraid to reach down and feel himself cut in half. He could've gotten the blood from there, but the cognitive dissonance alone of feeling air where your lower-half should be is terrifying as is.

By hiding her in his Smokescreen and giving his hair, En let Nana run away too, to safeguard herself and the Quirk. En ran, he made Nana run, and later on, he wants Midoriya/Ninth to run, even knowing there's no next user or chance to beat All For One/Tomura.

En knows All For One is powerful. He's scary. He killed Banjo-senpai, and Shinomori-san hid from him until he died of "old age". Everything is mustered in Midoriya/Ninth, but even then, En wants to run away because they realize they can be stolen and really die.

Now, going back a bit to [His Quirk is literally Smokescreen], they would've started calling Meta Abilities Quirks around the time En is growing up. All Might is alive somewhere when Nana receives One For All, and Meta Ability is the first term for Quirks.

Since Quirks are reflective of personality, and En was born in the coming down of the peak of fear that's trying to create some semblance of normalcy, it makes sense that, with his Smokescreen, he encourages Midoriya/Ninth to run. Because he did the same thing.

That's how he grew up, that's what he knows, it's the first thing he thought of when he realized they really were in danger. They were facing death in the eye.

Tomura/AFO even calls him out for this. Look at En's face when he's called out; he's scared of him. En is scared of just catching his attention.

The OFA vestiges know they can see into each others' realms. They wouldn't be surprised by this. They look into AFO's, they know AFO can do the same vice-versa.

Tomura is basically saying he's about to catch all the vestiges (rats) by their tails to make sure no one gets away this time.

Even if En was a vigilante or Pro Hero when he was alive (he's Banjo's kouhai, and Banjo was one of those), he has a faint heart when he feels cornered and running is an option, no matter how bad.

En acts calm and rational, and entered into the Vigilante/Pro Hero scene, but he is terrified when it comes down to it.

Like Kudo and Bruce with the Resistance, Shinomori with society's state then, and Banjo stepping up when Japan was "a lawless land", En is a product of the era he grew up; trying to find stability in a lawless land, where it was everyone for themselves.

[starwarmth]

We were seated by the fire, as just now described, and Miss Havisham still had Estella’s arm drawn through her own, and still clutched Estella’s hand in hers, when Estella gradually began to detach herself. She had shown a proud impatience more than once before, and had rather endured that fierce affection than accepted or returned it.

“What!” said Miss Havisham, flashing her eyes upon her, “are you tired of me?”

“Only a little tired of myself,” replied Estella, disengaging her arm, and moving to the great chimney-piece, where she stood looking down at the fire.

“Speak the truth, you ingrate!” cried Miss Havisham, passionately striking her stick upon the floor; “you are tired of me.”

Estella looked at her with perfect composure, and again looked down at the fire. Her graceful figure and her beautiful face expressed a self-possessed indifference to the wild heat of the other, that was almost cruel.

“You stock and stone!” exclaimed Miss Havisham. “You cold, cold heart!”

“What?” said Estella, preserving her attitude of indifference as she leaned against the great chimney-piece and only moving her eyes; “do you reproach me for being cold? You?”

“Are you not?” was the fierce retort.

“You should know,” said Estella. “I am what you have made me. Take all the praise, take all the blame; take all the success, take all the failure; in short, take me.”

“O, look at her, look at her!” cried Miss Havisham, bitterly; “Look at her, so hard and thankless, on the hearth where she was reared! Where I took her into this wretched breast when it was first bleeding from its stabs, and where I have lavished years of tenderness upon her!”

“At least I was no party to the compact,” said Estella, “for if I could walk and speak, when it was made, it was as much as I could do. But what would you have? You have been very good to me, and I owe everything to you. What would you have?”

“Love,” replied the other.

“You have it.”

“I have not,” said Miss Havisham.

“Mother by adoption,” retorted Estella, never departing from the easy grace of her attitude, never raising her voice as the other did, never yielding either to anger or tenderness, “Mother by adoption, I have said that I owe everything to you. All I possess is freely yours. All that you have given me, is at your command to have again. Beyond that, I have nothing. And if you ask me to give you what you never gave me, my gratitude and duty cannot do impossibilities.”

“Did I never give her love!” cried Miss Havisham, turning wildly to me. “Did I never give her a burning love, inseparable from jealousy at all times, and from sharp pain, while she speaks thus to me! Let her call me mad, let her call me mad!”

“Why should I call you mad,” returned Estella, “I, of all people? Does any one live, who knows what set purposes you have, half as well as I do? Does any one live, who knows what a steady memory you have, half as well as I do? I who have sat on this same hearth on the little stool that is even now beside you there, learning your lessons and looking up into your face, when your face was strange and frightened me!”

“Soon forgotten!” moaned Miss Havisham. “Times soon forgotten!”

“No, not forgotten,” retorted Estella. “Not forgotten, but treasured up in my memory. When have you found me false to your teaching? When have you found me unmindful of your lessons? When have you found me giving admission here,” she touched her bosom with her hand, “to anything that you excluded? Be just to me.”

“So proud, so proud!” moaned Miss Havisham, pushing away her grey hair with both her hands.

“Who taught me to be proud?” returned Estella. “Who praised me when I learnt my lesson?”

“So hard, so hard!” moaned Miss Havisham, with her former action.

“Who taught me to be hard?” returned Estella. “Who praised me when I learnt my lesson?”

“But to be proud and hard to me!” Miss Havisham quite shrieked, as she stretched out her arms. “Estella, Estella, Estella, to be proud and hard to me!”

Estella looked at her for a moment with a kind of calm wonder, but was not otherwise disturbed; when the moment was past, she looked down at the fire again.

“I cannot think,” said Estella, raising her eyes after a silence “why you should be so unreasonable when I come to see you after a separation. I have never forgotten your wrongs and their causes. I have never been unfaithful to you or your schooling. I have never shown any weakness that I can charge myself with.”

“Would it be weakness to return my love?” exclaimed Miss Havisham. “But yes, yes, she would call it so!”

“I begin to think,” said Estella, in a musing way, after another moment of calm wonder, “that I almost understand how this comes about. If you had brought up your adopted daughter wholly in the dark confinement of these rooms, and had never let her know that there was such a thing as the daylight by which she had never once seen your face—if you had done that, and then, for a purpose had wanted her to understand the daylight and know all about it, you would have been disappointed and angry?”

Miss Havisham, with her head in her hands, sat making a low moaning, and swaying herself on her chair, but gave no answer.

“Or,” said Estella, ”—which is a nearer case—if you had taught her, from the dawn of her intelligence, with your utmost energy and might, that there was such a thing as daylight, but that it was made to be her enemy and destroyer, and she must always turn against it, for it had blighted you and would else blight her;—if you had done this, and then, for a purpose, had wanted her to take naturally to the daylight and she could not do it, you would have been disappointed and angry?”

Miss Havisham sat listening (or it seemed so, for I could not see her face), but still made no answer.

“So,” said Estella, “I must be taken as I have been made. The success is not mine, the failure is not mine, but the two together make me.”

Great Expectations, ch. 38

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

okay sorry for the confusion yes he is. but he doesn’t wanna be

imagine if you got your brain stripped out but you had a magic failsafe in place so I guess instead of turning into a mindless drone you just reverted back into your child self And managed to stick around in your original form as a spectre so you could yell at your child self anytime your child self didn’t meet your expectations or do as good as they needed to to be as successful in life as you were.

that’s what’s going on. as far as I understand it and the jury’s still out on the details given the fact that no one else who got the same brain-wipe seems to be nearly as coherent and capable as him nor did they turn into actual children like he did. baby pep doesn’t like getting yelled at all the time and is being raised in a very different environment than original pep was so he’s not the same person emotionally but he’s basically just. if peps had to start over from babyhood, but with his adult self looking over him criticizing his every move to his face and his moms are all settled down together and domestic instead of volatile and mid break-up

[ehlnofay]

The Founder!

the founder : foundations, community.

Old Lady Silda (who isn’t actually that old) is sitting cross-legged under a shop awning, ignoring Torr with all her might.

“Please,” Torr says, again. “I saw you. I know you can.”

The purse she’d lifted from a passerby’s hip, easy as anything, lies sedately beneath her knee. Torr’s sat back on his haunches with his feet flat on the ground. The snow hasn’t reached the spot under the awning yet, so he’s not getting wet, but it’s falling, feathery-soft. It doesn’t look likely to get bad, especially not this far into spring, but he told the kids to stick around the Grey Quarter alleys just in case, not far from the Cornerclub – Torr’s only been out here a few months, but already he’s learned that Ambarys is a better bet than most of the temples when it comes to begging for a roof over your head, which is a pretty damning indictment of the temples seeing as Ambarys is an utter prick. Which Torr means in the most graciously grateful way, of course. He doesn’t do charity, but as long as they’re able to scrounge up some way of paying for the privilege they’re okay. With the temples you have to beg and scrape and hope they’re in the mood to put you up, and Torr’s found, the last few months, that he doesn’t mind begging and he doesn’t mind scraping and he doesn’t mind lying or stealing or cheating but he can’t fucking stand waiting around hoping. Can’t stand trying and trying and not even knowing if anyone will listen.

Talking to Silda is proving difficult.

Not-really-Old Lady Silda looks at them now – hair threaded through with silver, only one eye focusing properly on their face – and she says, with her wobbly sort of impatience, “I’m not a schoolmarm. Go home, lad.”

Torr’s first thought (you go home!) is the kind of childish shit they can’t really afford, now, so they hunch over onto their knees to shield from the wet drifting wind and they make their cracking voice curt and serious and they say, “My parents died in Morning Star. I’ve got my sisters and my brother. Teach me how to pick pockets.” It seems like less of a production than housebreaking – which they��re no real good at in any case. They don’t know where to find the valuables, and they’re too antsy about being seen. If they got arrested they’d all be fucked.

A gaggle of people pass by, cloaked and chattering, stamping flat footprints into the snow. Torr looks at it, at the dirt in it.

“I’ll trade you,” he says.

Silda is watching the group of people go, but he still sees her raise an eyebrow. She asks, “Trade me what?”

How should Torr know what she wants? “Anything. Whatever.” They flick a hand, fingers stinging red in the springtime cold snap. Been ages since not having gloves bit this hard. “Whatever you want – I’ll get it to you.” They can’t imagine she could want anything so complicated they couldn’t figure it out. They kept the kids alive through the winter and the bitter slush of early spring – they’ve got a couple gigs running errands here and there – they’ve managed. They’ll manage.

(They’re meeting people; making connections. Ambarys – the washerwoman that pays them to do deliveries every other Tirdas – the people in the marketplace who’ll fork out a few coins for someone to help them set up and carry shit. Silda, omnipresent beggar and pickpurse who they’ve seen on street corners for their whole life, wouldn’t be a bad person to know, they think.)

“You’re a shit haggler,” says Silda, sounding vaguely pleased. Her left eye doesn’t quite focus on anything she’s looking at; it drifts upward, to the mould-edged canvas of the awning. Above that, the blank white sky. Is the snow slowing? Torr hopes the snow is slowing. With any luck they won’t even need to cajole Ambarys into letting them kip in the corner. (It’s almost impressive, the way he is; the sheer dedication of a quite nice sort of man, when you get down to it, to acting like an asshole. Torr wonders if Silda is the same way. She’s kind of talking like she’s making fun of them.)

“’M not haggling,” Torr says, anyway. He rubs his hands together. It doesn’t really help. His right little finger is always flushed these days, like permanent frostnip. “You help me, I’ll help you. That’s all.”

Silda says, “You’re a little boy.”

That grates, a bit. (Torr bets they’re as tall as her, as much as she slumps; Torr’s not little in any sense of the world. They threw all that out with the bathwater. He’s a little boy like a feral dog is a house pet.) He bites his cheek, teeth grazing the old marks of chewing there, and he shrugs, and he says, “The others are littler.”

A bit of snow falls off the edge of the awning to land on the ground with a poof.

Silda looks at him. There’s a faint scar on her chin. With finality, she tells him, “Ten gold.”

Ten gold – “Are you serious?”

“Proper minted,” she says, implacable. “None of that hack shit. Call it your first lesson – set a cap on what you’re offering.”

“I asked to learn to lift purses, not how to bargain.” Torr wraps their hand around their little finger; lifts their chin and sets their jaw. “And I said anything on purpose. Show me how and I’ll get the money to you.”

(Ten full gold is no small change, but if she teaches him right the whole endeavour will basically pay for itself.)

Silda wipes her mouth with a knuckle. Her teeth are small and yellow. “All right,” she says, something appraising in her face. Snow dribbles down from the awning again. She knuckles at her cheek. “And tell your sister to stop digging through my stuff. I keep seeing the dark-haired one messing with my spots.”

A blink. “I don’t have a sister with dark hair,” Torr says; she looks at him with scepticism, and he says, “I don’t. I don’t know where you keep your stuff. But if I see someone doing that I’ll tell them to knock it off.”

“Do,” Silda says firmly. The street has drizzled out to almost empty; with a quickness that belies the scabbed, quavering fragility of her hands, she takes the purse from under her knee and tucks it into the band of her skirt. The purse is blue. The skirt looks like it might have been too, once. Torr exhales their relief, and it crystallises in the air, pale as smoke.

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

back when yesterday's lie came out and vee was introduced as camila's new kid the ship huntric was still popular. and i didn't ship it and generally had and still have an aversion to shipping hunter with any character but i thought about how funny it would be luz and her siblings all dated a blight. so for a little while there i also shipped vee and emira specifically bc the triple wedding would have been hilarious lmao

[batsplat]

casey also talks about sepang 2015 what do you think of that

oh in that podcast? uh... lemme listen again...

yeah idk it's not really anything new I'd say? he's said basically all the same stuff in more interesting and extensive ways elsewhere. I think casey inevitably has a very 'well feuding is bad and helps nobody' point of view, has expressed that before in the past, does it here again, and he's also drawn a parallel between himself and marc on several occasions. which... well, of course there's similarities in terms of public discourse or whatever, but the parallel really falls apart whenever casey argues the feuds cost valentino. like, I do think it's sometimes important to just. keep in mind. it's interesting that casey draws this comparison in his mind but that doesn't necessarily means he's right about this. I'm not sure how you'd argue that starting a feud with casey cost valentino anything competitively? you can argue it didn't help him I guess, and then we can have a debate about the ins and outs of the 2008 season. we can also have an argument that in a hypothetical world where casey isn't ill in 2009, valentino doesn't break his leg and casey isn't on a piece of junk in 2010, and valentino isn't on a piece of junk in 2011-12, then actually maybe valentino sparking open animosity with casey COULD have cost him. but we don't know that! didn't happen! I wish we could have found out, but we never got the chance! as it stands, the tally on this is pretty straightforward: casey won the title when things were reasonably civil between them in 2007, and valentino took control of the following season at the exact moment he worsened the relationship between the pair of them in 2008. obviously, it's all more complicated than that and casey would of course argue laguna didn't negatively affect his subsequent performances... but it certainly didn't help them. like, at the very worst valentino escalating tensions in 2008 is a complete net neutral. after 2009, them being bitchy to each other every other tuesday was completely competitively irrelevant beyond maybe affecting how they approached occasionally fighting for a podium position. hey, maybe casey used that feud to fire himself up through sheer spite throughout the later stages of his career, but that doesn't actually support his anti-feud stance - it's basically the exact same thing as what valentino does. they're both quite similar in that regard! always so hungry to prove a point, to show how someone else is wrong. kinda half the point with this feuding business is to get yourself going, get yourself motivated, yeah. he straight up openly admits to using yamaha's repeat rejection of him as a way of giving himself motivation, and at the end of the day that's really not all that different?

anyway, what else does casey say... oh yeah, that him and the other aliens were already kinda prepared for this and had learned vale's tricks. that valentino had only been able to get into the minds of the previous generation. welllllll *wiggles hand* sure, I mean, he did clearly have to change his approach... he couldn't just use the exact same playbook to get to them, either on-track or off-track. but that's why he did change up the playbook... again, whether you want to believe valentino won his final two titles 'in the head' rather than just through pure pace kinda depends on how you assess the evidence, but it is at the very least a debate. and, y'know, it's always worth remembering that valentino's most important mind games with casey didn't happen in a press conference... it was on the track. and the on-track stuff really is just embedded in how valentino approaches winning. speaking of aliens, this is what dani and jorge have said:

like, valentino's entire approach to his riding, even to the way he's setting his bike up, is deliberately about directly fucking with you... he's not actually always trying to be faster than you as much as he's trying to give himself the tools to make your life miserable, to pressure you into mistakes, etc etc... and again, especially with casey (if anything because he was so mentally sturdy), the off-track stuff was really just window dressing. (I know they bicker a lot after 2009 but it's just so fundamentally irrelevant to actual on-track competition.) so you can be aware of those tricks, but it also doesn't necessarily help you when someone's being nasty to you on-track in a way you just fully do not enjoy. which is what it was like for casey! for casey, a lot of this comes back to the truly unpleasant context of how he was perceived by the public, how he was treated as mentally weak or 'broken' or whatever partly because he had the misfortune of coming up against a bloke who had the reputation for breaking rivals. I think it's quite natural to end up with a bit of a hardliner 'actually I've never been mentally affected by a result in my life' stance - and of course casey is a lot tougher than a lot of people give him credit for. that being said. sometimes your rivals affect you, shit happens, it's part of the game. it's fundamentally a nice idea to think that valentino's tactics weren't just morally wrong but also ineffective, which is kind of the appeal of this narrative, right? you want to believe you're above that, you want to believe you were adequately prepared and wise to valentino's tactic. it's unsurprising and understandable that casey does tend to tell the story that way, but again it's *wiggles hand* also hard to describe it as completely factual

uh. what else. oh I'm thrilled casey does canonically know valentino and marc were friends, he has said he wasn't following motogp too much during that time period so you couldn't be sure of that. does this mean anything? does it tell you anything? well, no, but it's just a pleasing thought to me. I like that. oh also 'provoking particularly aggressive riders isn't a good idea' is kinda a funny take from casey? like, he of all people would hate the idea of being cowed by someone's reputation like that... casey's right that provoking fast riders can potentially be dangerous, but y'know I do think that's probably not news to anyone almost nine years later. um. that's all I've got I think

[maskofnova]

Why did i get horribly attached to not only a rare pair, but one in which half of it has a more than already basically canon ship that’s really popular. If noone else draws or gets into whispurge so i can stop having to feed myself i think ill die. How do people do this.

[gideonisms]

Do it for your next milf boss who won't give you the time of day --wise words from tumblr user cosmictiddies, 2023

[halfyearsqueen]

rhaenyra’s contentious relationship with her own bodily autonomy

[thewindandthestars]

Fighting the voices of making a twst oc that's shipped with Kalim. They could be a wholesome couple 🥺 (wholesome and inadvertently chaotic)

[akascow]

man yellowjackets would be so much better if it didnt keep cutting back to the present day

[notmoreflippingelves]

Every year, I tell myself that I should really consider taking off work for Father Brown premiere day, and then it comes around and I forget to do it, and I spend all day thinking about how I would so much rather be sitting cozy under a million blankets and going back to Kembleford than being forced to do boring work things.

[spikeyjo]

also uh im kind of not thinking about it much because its insane. but if everything goes right (and i mean a considerable amount of things that probably wont go as planned) but if they DO... i will have a major surgery in like two weeks

[hdmiports]

i have to go to a new dentist tomorrow