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90stvshowgoth · 4 years

Text

—BREAKING & ENTERING

—ch.1 —ch.2

summary: after dabi was seen leaving your apartment complex last week, the commission has sent a lesser known hero to help guard the building until new cameras are installed. however, no security measures in the world could keep dabi out.

w/c: 5064

tags: dubcon, cuckolding, creampie, voyeurism, humiliation, exhibitionism, arson

a/n: this is the final chapter to this little duology, and the reason why its so much shorter is because the first one was really supposed to stand on its own, but i got so many requests for a sequel i couldn’t help it. so i just took the kinks i didn’t get to use last time and pay off some setup and voila. however, just ‘cause this is the last chapter of this story doesn’t mean i’m not gonna write a fuck ton of other stuff for him. ily burn man. plus i’m working on a huge, multi-chapter fic for him while i post smaller one-shots >:) that being said, enjoy.

The impact Dabi left on your life was far bigger than you thought it would’ve been on the night you snuck him away from the law. As he was running from the cops someone saw him climb through your window, and a different person also saw him climb down the fire escape. With witnesses like that, the other tenants were downright furious.

You almost felt bad for the landlord, it wasn’t his fault you were insane enough to willingly let a villain come inside both you and your apartment.

Your landlord and the police department came up with a solution. The apartment complex would be installing new state-of-the-art locks on all fire-escape adjacent windows free of charge. This wasn’t exactly an issue with seeing Dabi again, since all you had to do was purposefully leave yours unlocked.

It would take two weeks to install all the cameras, but until then, a community-assigned hero would be stationed to guard the complex.

His name was Kao, a middle-ranked hero with bright orange hair and a winning smile framed with dimples. At first you thought he might’ve been one of the better heroes, waving you off to work and walking you there the other day, but recently he’d begun to creep you out. The friendly conversations about a tv show you both enjoyed began to turn into invasive questions about your love life.

A week of lingering glances and uncomfortable prying culminated that Friday as he had flat out asked you to dinner moments prior.

“C’mon, I just— I said that wrong, lemme try again,” He stuttered, keeping pace with you as you marched towards the building.

“No, Kao, look, you’re cool and all, but I’m really not looking to date anyone right now.” You huffed, striding into the doorway and towards the elevator. That might not’ve been the whole truth but you obviously couldn’t tell him that you had the hots for a terrorist.

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, “Well you just got off work, right? I remember which room you stay in, maybe I can swing by tonight?”

You whirled on him, your jaw slack in shock at the insensitivity of his words. The reminder that he knew where you lived sending a shiver down your spine, “Kao, this conversation is done. I don’t want you following me around anymore, hero,”

Deep down, your words sounded familiar. If they were raspier and said behind a thin veil of indifference, you might’ve realized that you were talking like Dabi.

“What is that supposed to mean? We’re the good guys!” You slammed your fist down on the close-door button, your mouth a thin line, daring Kao to make a move and stop the doors. He didn’t, and soon the reassuring pull of the elevator set your shaking body at ease.

‘Who does he think he is?’ You were bitter, rightfully so, you think.

You were so frustrated that you had difficulty inserting your keys into the lock, twisting it with a growl and throwing open the door, ready to collapse onto your pillow and vent to whoever was online about your heroic stalker.

When you noticed the scent of cigarettes in the air.

“Hey, doll,” Warmth surged through your chest at the sight of him, the villain’s feet kicked up onto the coffee table.

You were hanging your coat on the hook before moving beside him to the couch, “What took you so long?”

“Not happy to see me? You seem a lot bitchier than I remember,” The crude edge of his humor was a breath of fresh air compared to the stifling niceties of work, and you smiled for what felt like the first time that day.

Shaking your head, you toed out of your boots and made your way to the frayed couch, “I’ll tell you all about him,”

That got his attention, “Him?”

“A hero,” Dabi’s frown worsened, an accusatory look in his eyes, “before you ask, no, you idiot, I hate this guy, there’s not a chance I’d sleep with him.”

The tensity in his shoulders relaxed, bring the half-finished Newport to his lips as you continued, “Since you broke in last week all my neighbors lost their shit. They threatened to sue if my landlord didn’t assign a hero to watch the building for a bit. I thought he was cool, but I’ve just decided that he’s a total prick.”

He hummed, nodding understandingly, “Want me to kill him?”

You gaped, hitting him on the chest, “Wha—No, Dabi, what the hell?”

He just shrugged, the intensity of his words almost funny to you, and as you recounted the last twenty minutes the ashes of Dabi’s cigarette fell to the floor. The dying lights of the sun streamed through your window, the smoke oddly beautiful in the glow as he handed you the last hit of his cheap cigar.

“You know why heroes are like that?” You shook your head, enjoying the numbing calm of tobacco, “It’s cause they’re spoiled. They go their entire lives being praised for everything they do so they don’t know how to take no for a fuckin’ answer,”

Apparently your smoking buddy was feeling talkative, much to your delight. His words made you pause, remembering the relieved faces of your neighbors whenever they’d see the gaudy costume Kao wore as he strode by.

“Shit... guess you’re right,” You mumbled into his side, not minding the ever-present aroma of burnt skin and smoke that clung to Dabi’s coat.

He scoffed, “I’m always right, baby,” His words earning him a pinch on the arm.

“No, you ass, just about the hero stuff,” He grinned, the staples on his dimples taut against his skin as he pulled you closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Careful, doll, you’re starting to sound like a villain,” The drop in your stomach sent heat down your skin, yet somehow you were still shivering under his predatory gaze.

You shook your head, trying to will away the red that dusted your cheeks, “No way, my quirk isn’t strong enough to be a villain,”

He raised his eyebrow expectantly, broadly gesturing for you to go on.

“Well...” God, why is this embarrassing? “I can give people headaches.”

You didn’t know if he would laugh at you or belittle you for your meaningless quirk, but he did neither.

“Think you could practice it more? Get better at it?” He was serious, staring at you and expecting an answer.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze, “I mean, maybe? It’s not hard to do, I guess,”

Dabi smirked, pulling you onto his lap. It felt as if the week hadn’t happened at all and you were right back where you started, your face flushing at the memories of that night. He dragged you close, eyes dark as he whispered something into your ear...

“Think you could split someone’s head open with a migraine?”

Your gut wrenched, flinching at the gory idea and making you sit up in Dabi’s lap. The atmosphere in the room hadn’t changed, his stare as menacing as before.

That is, until he started to crack up. Louder than you’d ever heard before, his fit filled the apartment until he had to cup his stomach from laughing too hard; the wheeze in his rough throat echoing around the room as your blush spread all the way down your neck.

“Oh, you asshole!” If anything, your shove against his chest only made him more giddy. The panic-fueled adrenaline was still surging through your body, unwillingly making the wetness between your thighs spread, even as you tried to wrap your head around the fact that Dabi had been fucking with you.

Your legs shook as he held on to you for balance, his cackling dying down but the shit-eating grin never leaving his face, “You were so freaked out, huh?”

“Yeah, no shit!”

He hummed, running a hand through your hair and suddenly yanking you forward, basking in the sharp yelp it brought from you, “You’re cute when you’re scared,”

You’d missed the way his scabbed lips felt on yours more than you’d ever admit. There was something about him that left you breathless, eager and questioning your life choices. Groaning into his mouth before pulling back and laving your slick tongue along his disfigured lower lip, you rolled your aching heat against him to force a truly pornographic moan from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck—” One of his hands slid down your back, grabbing your ass through your jeans, “Fucking hell, you missed me that much?”

You nodded dumbly into his shoulder, pressing chaste kisses along the ragged skin as he slid his finger past the band of your jeans, cupping your dripping sex with wide eyes.

“Goddamn, s’no way you’re this wet for me already,” His eyes were scrutinizing, trying to figure out why you were hiding into his neck, “What’s got you so worked up, doll?”

You couldn’t come up with a good excuse in time, Dabi thinking back to how your thighs had tightened up when he asked if you could kill someone, your eyes were frightened back then, yes, but there was something else. Something you wouldn’t tell him.

When the realization hit him, it hit hard.

“Holy shit, you get off on being scared?” He couldn’t believe his luck, the embarrassed groan you buried into his shoulder confirming his suspicions.

Dabi ran a hand through his hair, a childish wonder over his features, “Aren’t I fuckin’ lucky?” He sneered, pulling you back til you were at eye-level again.

“I’m gonna try something, baby,” there was an edge to his voice as he settled one hand on the small of your back, pressing your tits against his chest as he held your bra strap back with the other.

“What are you… Dabi, what are you doing?” The scent of fire and burning fabric filled the air, the ends of your bralette smoking between his fingertips, embers turning to ash and sprinkling down the couch until it was flimsy enough for Dabi to rip free, teeth sinking into your neck as he held you still to keep your skin safe.

It was jarring and a bit terrifying to be restrained against someone like Dabi without knowing his intentions. But nothing in you could deny the blinding rush of pleasure it ripped down your spine.

“It’s all starting to make sense, doll-face, I guess I was right the first time,” His hands tossed the smoking bra into hallway, reaching between you and torturously pinching and pulling on the rosy blush of your tits, “you do have a thing for villains,”

“Can’t wait to fuck that tight pussy again, doll,” Without warning he shoved your torso forward, your body bouncing against the couch, his hands flying to the button of your jeans.

“—Didn’t have time to take you right last time, didn’t get to taste you,” his words made you whimper in his grasp, keeping your legs somewhat raised as tugged down the tight denim.

You fully expected him to take you rough like before, make you choke on his cock before having his fill, but as he tugged off your black panties he crawled down the trembling body beneath him, slowly moving over your ribs, your stomach, and finally your drooling cunt.

He never broke eye contact with you as he pulled your thighs closer, keeping them spread wide as the hot fan of his breath on your pussy sent a thrill through your neglected nerves.

“I want you to scream my name,” It was an order, not a request. The unhinged tremor in his hands was unsettling, an unspoken threat hanging in the air.

Dabi’s tongue immediately found your clit, mouth wrapping around the glistening bead and sucking all at once, the moan it drew from your lips unholy. He moaned at the taste, hiking up your hips onto his shoulders.

“Christ, you’re sweet, doll, like fuckin’ candy...” He muttered in disbelief, more to himself that to you, licking a wide stripe along your drenched lips, diving into you deep enough to have your limbs spasming around him.

On instinct your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the sharp cry that the villain drew. He didn’t warn you before bringing his hand up high and slapping it into the bare skin of your thigh, a scream echoing through the living room. Distantly, you wondered if your neighbors could hear...

“Don’t you dare hide a single sound from me, slut, or this ends now,” his ultimatum was scary but the insult felt heavy in a way you’d never felt before, and you nodded without a second thought, breathlessly bunching one hand into the arm of the couch above you and the other into the ashy black of his hair.

You nodded down to him, silently saying to continue; the villain fixed on watching as your chest swelled in time with your breathing, a rush of blood going to the heat of his cock.

His pace was hungry, nipping at your thighs whenever he thought you were too comfortable, spinning circles into your clit with his tongue and chuckling at the noises it brought, “You gonna cum, princess?” You could only respond with a scream of his name, the plea music to his ears, but he needed you to be louder if he was to get what he wanted.

“Louder,” Dabi called your name like a prayer, moaning into your cunt as you practically suffocated him between your thighs, “Fuck—Louder, baby, scream it,”

“Dabi!!” Your orgasm was hot against his tongue and he drank in every last drop of your climax until you were wrenching away his greedy mouth, your pussy swollen and red from his care.

Just as you started to compose yourself, a frantic banging sounded on the door. Someone from the hallway was slamming down their fist, screaming your name.

“Hey! Did you just say Dabi?! Are you okay in there?” It was Kao.

Horror clawed away any kind of afterglow as you cupped your hand to your mouth, leaning up on your elbow and whispering, “What do I say?”

Dabi’s voice was just low enough to hide behind the pounding of Kao’s fists, “Do you trust me?”

Before you could answer the hero behind the wall called your name again.

“If you don’t answer me in five seconds I’m breaking this door down!”

Your gaze flickered from the front door to the villain that was wiping your slick from his chin.

“Yes,”

Dabi grinned, grabbing your wrists and holding you against his shirt, one hand wrapped painfully around your tits and the other erupting with blue fire in his palm.

“Come and get her, hero!” You made a confused squeal, thrashing around in his grasp, eyes wide and afraid as Dabi shushed into your ear, trying to calm you down.

‘Like hell if you’d calm down, he’d practically just signed your death sentence!’ you heaved against the fugitive, trying to shake yourself free to no avail.

All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and imagine you were somewhere else as door was jolted in its hinges, the doorknob falling with a distant clang, and before you could beg Dabi to stop whatever stupid game he was playing, Kao ran into the room, eyes furrowed and fists raised as the door squeaked on the loose hinges behind him, blissfully unaware.

“Where are y—“ Kao’s voice paused mid-sentence, you flinched in Dabi’s hold, the heat of the redhead’s stare washing over you, naked and wet, making you tilt your head down, trying to hide yourself from the world.

“Isn’t she cute, hero?” Dabi rasped against you, the heat of his fire illuminated against the sweaty sheen of your trembling body. Kao didn’t know what to do, flustered and struggling to hide the tent in his latex costume.

You knew fighting back against the villain was pointless, falling limp in the strength of his arms as he chuckled into your neck, looking over at the bump in his pants, “You were right, babe, I think he likes you,”

“Get your filthy hands off of her!” Kao screamed, diving towards the couch with his fist raised back.

Dabi simply grinned, carefully hovering his flame ever closer to your now bare tits, you couldn’t help but scream at the proximity, and whatever plan Kao had in his mind died before his fist could make impact.

His novocaine laced voice spoke calmly beside your ear, “Any closer and she’s dead,” The hot rush down your legs wasn’t due to his flames, as one hand took to rubbing your sensitive sex, the sounds it elicited from you unintentional and mortifying under the presence of Kao in the room.

“What... what do you want, you bastard?” Dabi laughed at that one, tweaking your clit between his fingers and conducting the most beautiful notes from your pillowy lips.

“I think It’s pretty obvious what I want, don’t you think?” Your name on his lips sent you keening against him despite the inferno roaring inches away from your skin. He couldn’t move without Dabi’s flames hovering ever closer to your heaving chest, and to Kao, you were very clearly about to die. Although you didn’t believe Dabi would hurt you, he had asked you to trust him before he got Kao’s attention, after all, the line between foreplay and conflagration was becoming blurry.

Kao backed up into the half wall that separated the living room from the kitchen, barely making an effort to try and hide his erection anymore, “I’ll send you to fucking Tartarus for this, Dabi.”

“Oooo, scary,” His unlit hand trailed down your jawline, tilting you to his side until he could slide his tongue into your open lips, humming into your mouth, “What do you think, doll?

“Dabi, please... wait,“ The strength in your voice wasn’t as heated as before, and even you had to admit it sounded half-assed.

Kao’s quirk must be no good for long range because all he could do was stand there, trying to avert his eyes from your drooling cunt in favor of glaring daggers at the coy villain pulling soft mewls from your lips, “I swear... I’ll see you rot in prison for this. You’ll be fucking executed, you rapist—“

“—woah, woah, that stings, hero. Doll, is that really what I’m doin’?” You groaned, not exactly answering because you couldn’t hear the question, your eyes still shut tight in embarrassment.

The growl in his voice sent another soaking rush towards your pussy, as his hand grabbed you jaw, pulling you up, “Look at me,” Your eyes widened at the sight of Dabi so close to you, his chest warm against your back, the aches of your last orgasm fading into something new.

“Tell me to stop, princess, your call,” Time stood still as Dabi kissed a soft pathway along your neck, weirdly gentle as he listened for your response, his clothed hard-on pressed firmly against your ass.

Too flustered to speak, you merely wrenched your arm free from his grasp, carding you hand through his hair and pulling him to your desperate lips. You could feel him tug into a smirk against you as your hips eagerly ground themselves on him despite the audience.

Kao choked on his own spit, stepping backwards, but stopped when Dabi aimed his ignited hand towards the hero who was having difficulty piecing together your actions in his head. “What,” His voice cracked when he called out your name, “are you...?”

Dabi pulled away, a feral glint in the blue hidden beneath his hair as he licked a disgustingly wet stripe along your cheek, chest rumbling behind you as you squirmed at the gross feeling, “I’m still gonna need you to beg, sweetheart.”

Your dignity was hanging by a thread, hinging on whether or not you followed his lead, but the insane buzz your anxiety had stirred up under Kao’s confused stare and Dabi’s aching cock was impossible to ignore. He rut himself into the dripping curve of your ass, his jeans soaked with your slick as you found the courage to speak.

“Fuh...” Carefully, Dabi pressed a loving kiss to your temple, his stare fixated on Kao’s as you strung the syllables together, “Fuck me, Dabi,”

The hero couldn’t believe his ears. She’d turned him down countless times despite his pursuits, yet she was somehow fine with this? Kao briefly thought that perhaps his crush was a villain this whole time, but that couldn’t make sense with her weak quirk.

You felt Dabi twitch beneath you, the shameless way you showed yourself off was as humiliating as it was hot, and he laughed in lightheaded disbelief against the back of your neck, taking your ass in one hand and slipping the other down his pants, tugging off the painful metal zipper until his boxers were pulled down just enough for his cock to finally be met with the soft warmth of your cunt.

“As the lady commands,” Dabi grinned, reaching around your waist to take his pierced dick in his hand, rubbing and tapping his swollen head deliberately against your clit, pre-cum drenching your pussy as you felt boneless in his arms.

“Ah-! St..S-top tea-sing, Dabi!” You babbled, squirming to try and find an escape from his grasp or maybe trying to force him inside you, but all your struggling did was make him harder. But before you could beg, you froze at the sight of Kao a few feet away, his legs bending into a sprinter’s pose. He was going to run?

Dabi was having none of it, a controlled jet of flame grazing Kao’s knee, scalding the skin beneath the latex. The hero cried out into the bite of his fist, collapsing into the wall a few feet away.

“Nah, hero. You’re not leaving just yet,” The villain rearranged you on his lap, “See, the thought of you jerking off to my girl? It kinda pisses me off, actually,”

The color in Kao’s face drained as he had no choice but to sit and watch as Dabi slowly sunk you down on top of him, one hand drawing soft circles into your stomach as you reveled in the feeling of his piercings hot against every part of you.

“Though, I’m wondering, what did you think about, huh?” Kao sputtered, unable to form words just like you, formless noises falling from your lips.

His scarred hands grasped at the flesh of your thighs, raising you up only to shove you back onto his cock, the flames that still extended to threaten Kao suddenly flared up in time with his thrusts, the weight of him felt so much deeper at this angle and it was hard to breathe, let alone speak.

“I... nothing! I didn’t—“ Another whip of fire cut through the room from Dabi’s fingertips, a cast of blue leaving bubbling skin in its wake, pain flashing across Kao’s face.

“Fuckin’ liar,” You yelped as Dabi shoved you down, moaning into your ear as you squeezed against him, sobbing his name into his chest as he picked up a steady pace in your guts.

Kao cried out, stuttering and gripping along the inflamed line of skin, “I-I thought— thought about her... fuck— I just wanted her to suck me off, alright? There, I said it! Are you happy now?”

He must’ve realized the mistake in his words as soon as he said them, squeezing your eyes shut but having no choice but to smell the stench of burning flesh and hear the sound of muffled screaming as it filled your apartment, “Can’t blame you though, her mouth is God,”

Your hands scrambled for balance against Dabi as the screaming of his victim made him downright feral, filling your tight heat so well it had you crying.

“Damn, you’re soaked for me, doll, I just knew you were a kinky fuck deep down. You’re a slutty little girl for me, aren’t ya?”

As much as it hurt to admit it, he was right. He was painfully right, and you told him so. The unhinged, unstoppable force that was Dabi ignited a passion in you that’d never been fed before. He was torturing the hero you hated all while taking your cunt in deep, harsh thrusts, the metal imbedded into his cock and his chest behind you were blisteringly hot against your skin.

“Tell him, baby,” His question fell on deaf ears, your tongue lolling from your mouth a bit at the pleasure.

It caught you off guard when he drew his hand back and slapped you across the cheek, a blistering red handprint in its wake, saying your name so softly, turning off his quirk to run his hands through your hair, he whispered, “Tell that fucking hero who you belong to,”

The world tipped over as Dabi gripped your shoulders, pushing you onto the wooden coffee table so your ass stuck in the air. In an instant he was on you again, pounding into your cunt with a glazed fervor, your words downright biblical in his ears.

“On-ly... Dabi ca—Ngh, Only Dabi can fuck me this good,” You forced the words from your throat, thankful for the table serving as an impartial shoulder to cry on as Dabi lined himself up with your cunt.

“More, princess,” The snap of his hips had you drooling onto the table, catching sight of Kao’s slumped body in the corner as Dabi’s breath sounded much louder than before.

“Fuck, baby—” You cried, craning your neck back to look at him. Sweat glistened at the crown of his dark hair, steam shading his breath as he took you hard, “Your cock is— shit its so deep in me,”

Your nerves were spent from exhaustion as he railed you, being more vocal than before as he choked at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, his fingernails digging future bruises into your hip dips, “Wanna feel you cum in me, want you to fill me up— Dabi, wanna make you feel good,”

“Fuck, doll, I can’t...” He ground his teeth together, making you squeal as he mounted you from behind, spreading your legs out wide so you had no way to hide yourself, “Gonna fuck’n cum-gonna cum in you- fuck, fuck, fuck—!“

You both hit your highs at the same time, Dabi accidentally digging your face into the wood as he held you as tightly to him as possible, his cum running hot due to his quirk as he pumped you full, that broken cry of yours like music to his ears, humping you a few times to ride out his climax.

You felt warm and safe, Dabi’s weight a comfortable blanket even with your shivering skin pressed naked into the coffee table. However, the quietly groaning hero in the corner made you quickly come back down to earth.

“Dabi... did you kill him?” Your voice was small beneath him, but he just shrugged.

“Nah, not yet, don’t worry,” He kissed your neck one more time, his thumb rubbing circles into your indented stomach, pulling you off the table and back into his arms.

He pulled out of you and grinned at the sight of his release spilling down your thighs, “Damn...” he whispered, taking in the sight with a satisfied whistle, “C’mon Doll, forget about him.”

You were grateful he carried you bridal style to your bedroom, your legs gelatin at this point, and as he laid you down to rest he grabbed one of your discarded shirts that hadn’t made it to the hamper and wiped down the remains of sex from your twitching cunt before leaving the cum-stained top ignored on the ground.

“You doing good, baby? Didn’t go too hard, did I?” His concern was diminished somewhat by the grin on his face, satisfied with the mumbling, love-drunk form he’d reduced you to.

Shaking your head, you burrowed into the warm blankets, peeking your eyes out from beyond the covers in a way that even Dabi couldn’t deny was pretty cute, “No, just... what are you gonna do with Kao?”

His face was unreadable as he leaned closer, “Do you really want to know?”

Truth be told, no, you didn’t, you were just a civilian, far removed from the complex fight between heroes and villains. You were only in this situation because you’d grown to care about Dabi. In some small, sarcastic way, he’d wormed his way into your life, and he hadn’t hurt you so far, only going as close as possible to bring you over the edge again and again.

“No...”

“Good answer,” he stood up, tucking himself back into his jeans as he went back into the living room. You heard a muffled thud and what sounded like Dabi cursing before he reappeared in your bedroom, Kao’s unconscious body slung over his shoulder. For such a wiry guy, Dabi was pretty strong. Moving to the open window he basically threw Kao’s body onto the outside metal grating, his lungs uneven after carrying him.

Just as he swung his leg onto the windowsill you shot up in your bed, hand outstretched, “Wait!”

He turned back to look at you, genuinely confused as to what you could want.

“Kiss me before you go?”

He froze, then grinned, scoffing at the innocent gesture you gave so openly to a murderer like him. There had to be something wrong with his little villain-in-training to make her okay with it, just like him. Dabi ignored that thought for another day, striding forward and finally giving you the goodbye kiss you’d been denied last time, his tongue trying to map out every detail in case he could ever forget before pulling away with a warm softness to his ocean eyes.

“I think I might be starting to like you, Doll,” A feint rush of color fell on his unmarred skin and you’re sure your heart stopped beating for a good three seconds.

His words were a worn record being played over and over in your head long after he crawled down your fire escape, the teasing, sated haze in his voice hidden beneath a rasp of smoke. You weren’t sure how much he meant what he said, but you’re sure that the first thing you said in return was exactly what he wanted to hear; at least judging from the boyish smile that lit up his face when you said it.

“Come back soon, okay?”

“Okay,”

@effmigentlywithachainsaw @touyasfatcock @thicchaikyuuboys @awritersometimes @chey-the-simp

#dabi x reader #dabi #dabi x reader smut #dubcon #murder #mha #my hero academia #dabi smut #touya x reader #touya todoroki

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justforbooks · 4 years

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The Mystery of Charles Dickens by AN Wilson review – a great writer's dark side

Was Dickens’s fiction shaped by the nastiness he never consciously acknowledged? A sprightly retelling of a well-known narrative

Near the end of The Mystery of Charles Dickens, AN Wilson quotes at length from a letter written by Philip Larkin to his lover Monica Jones. The poet has just reread Great Expectations, and is reflecting on the novelist’s attention-seeking tricks: “Say what you like about Dickens as an entertainer, he cannot be considered a real writer at all; not a real novelist.” It is a version of a complaint that has been made many times about Dickens the mere “entertainer”. “His is the garish, gaslit, melodramatic barn … where the yokels gape.” Yet, at the end of all his sentences of critical deprecation, Larkin’s final reflex is equally familiar: “However, I much enjoyed G.E. & may try another soon.”

Those with high literary standards have often enjoyed Dickens against their better judgment. In The Mystery of Charles Dickens, Wilson sides with the gaping yokels. He confesses the he has read Dickens with “obsessive rapture” since his childhood, but had to overcome the presumption, later educated into him, that his writing was insufficiently deep or sophisticated. “The death of Paul Dombey is so schmaltzy that we simply refuse to be moved, but then, damn it, we read and the tears well down our cheeks.” For Wilson, Dickens is an irresistible performer. One chapter of his book is devoted to “The Mystery of the Public Readings”, in which Dickens drove himself to near collapse (and made huge amounts of money) by touring America as well as Britain to perform readings from his work. In 1869, he had a stroke on stage in Chester, but still refused to stop the readings, partly because of the money but mostly because he was addicted to the instant responsiveness of his audience.

The highlight of his show was Bill Sikes’s murder of Nancy from Oliver Twist, in which, Wilson thinks, the novelist released some demonic aspect of himself – some yen for sexual violence – on stage. Murderous villains such as the gleefully sadistic Quilp in The Old Curiosity Shop, or the psychopathic John Jasper in The Mystery of Edwin Drood, were projections of his own cruelty. Wilson’s book is, you might say, bio-critical: “Dickens’s novels tell the story over and over again of his divided self,” he writes. The secrets of his life lie on the surface of his fiction. The dust jacket proclaims that the book goes “beyond standard narrative biography”. Which is to say that The Mystery of Charles Dickens does not reveal anything the previous biographers have not told us (indeed, it is conscientiously reliant on a small number of secondary sources). Instead, it shows, by a mixture of rational inference and I-feel-it-in-my-bones intuition, how the most powerful aspects of Dickens’s fiction drew on the most painful and secret aspects of his life.

The biggest secret of Dickens’s life, of course, was his clandestine relationship with Ellen (“Nelly”) Ternan, the young actor whom he first met when she performed at the Free Trade Hall in Manchester in The Frozen Deep, a play that he had written with his friend Wilkie Collins, and in which he himself was acting. She was 18; he was 45. For the next 13 years, Dickens paid for her to live in a series of discreetly located residences, where he would secretly visit her. The last of these was Windsor Lodge in Peckham, then a pleasant village outside London, with a railway station on the line from Dickens’s Kent home.

Each chapter of Wilson’s book is a different “Mystery”, the first being what happened to most of the £22 for which Dickens cashed a cheque on the day before his death. Dickens must have given it to Nelly for housekeeping. Which means that he must have made a quick trip to Peckham and that the “seizure” that killed him must have been induced by some hyper-energetic sex with her. Which means that hasty measures must have been taken to heave the dying novelist into a carriage to be driven back to his Kent home. “Exit Nelly, stage left.” (This enjoyable fiction, which has been hazarded by others before Wilson, is partly withdrawn near the end of the book.)

Next is “The Mystery of his Childhood”. Wilson is hardly the first to suggest that Dickens’s fiction was shaped by what he calls “the grotesquely sad galanty show of his childhood”. He briskly takes us through the story of the penury, the period in the debtors’ prison, the aborted education, the banishment, aged 10, to menial labour in Warren’s Blacking warehouse. There is less stress than usual on the improvidence of Dickens’s father, John Dickens (whose self-relishing orotundity at least inspired the matchless idiolect of Mr Micawber). Instead, Dickens blamed his mother. The ludicrous (Mrs Nickleby) or monstrous (Mrs Clennam) mothers in his novels bear the imprint of “the deepest needs of mother-hate”. Wilson asserts that “his flawed relationship with his mother is the defining feature, of the man and of his art”. Yet his privations made him a great novelist. The Blacking warehouse “saved Dickens the novelist, just as grammar school and Cambridge would have destroyed him”.

Then there is “The Mystery of the Cruel Marriage”. Nothing has more tainted Dickens’s reputation than his public repudiation (via an advertisement in the Times) of his wife, Kate, who had borne him 10 children and suffered all his demands for 22 years. Wilson’s house, he tells us, overlooks the back garden of 70 Gloucester Crescent, Camden Town, whence Catherine Dickens was exiled, with the company of only one of her children, Charley, their eldest son. The others were forbidden to see her. We have found out recently that Dickens tried to have her certified insane, so that she would be put in an asylum. Not only did he want to be free to pursue an affair with Nelly Ternan, he wanted somehow to declare that it was all his blameless wife’s fault. He was the wounded party.

But all the fury and resentment that he felt towards first his mother, and then his wife, inspired his greatest fiction, Wilson thinks. We should be grateful that he was so screwed up. Great Expectations, he believes, was a masterpiece of self-torment, formed from his own ruthlessness, his hunger for money and status, his family hatreds – all handed down to the novel’s narrator, Pip. “A helpful course of cognitive therapy, such as our contemporaries would have urged on a middle-aged man who had just visited such absolute mayhem on his wife and children” would have destroyed his creativity. Just as Pip owed his fortune to a violent criminal, Magwitch, its author owed his lucrative brilliance to “a secret, violent criminal”: himself. Or rather, the dark and nasty secret self that he never consciously acknowledged.

Wilson concedes all the contradictions and hypocrisies anatomised by John Carey in his brilliant, often openly exasperated study of Dickens, The Violent Effigy – but forgives him. Dickens had to contend with the “vast, smoky, cruel, boundlessly energetic, steel-hearted nineteenth century”, which made him variously cruel and sentimental. He was, after all, a nobody, who had grown up “with nuffink”. Alone among all great writers of the 19th century, he had “not merely looked over into the abyss. He had lived in it.” His lifelong insecurity was another creative asset.

If you are a Dickens aficionado, you will think that much of the book’s biographical narrative is well-known material, though here revisited in a sprightly manner. Yet its last, highly personal section suddenly shifts your sense of Wilson’s commitment to his subject. In his final chapter, he remembers first encountering episodes from Dickens at the age of eight or nine at his private school, which was “in effect a concentration camp run by sexual perverts”. The teacher who introduced him to Dickens was himself utterly sinister and Dickensian, the skill with which he impersonated Fagin and Squeers “all too convincing”. The shards of Dickens sustained his spirits among the privations and abuse visited on him by the paedophile headmaster and his monstrous wife, uninhibited sadists in Wilson’s vivid, detailed account. After this, nothing would convince him that Dickens should be condescended to as insufficiently “realistic”. And in returning him to the “abject terror and hopelessness” of childhood, but with that strange Dickensian stir of laughter (Fagin and Squeers, those comic turns), the novelist, hypocritical and self-deceiving as he might have been, has done him some matchless kindness.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #Charles Dickens

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phoenixrisesoncemore · 4 years

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I was tagged by @wangxianbunnydoodles (oh my, this is long and you might regret it; also I don’t follow instructions well 😉). I tend not to be very good at these things (sorry to anyone else who has tagged me in these kinds of things before—this is a rare event happening mostly because I wanna talk about Tolkien books and ships) but here goes:

Top 3 Ships

I don’t actively ship characters that often. I’m not sure why that is. I do enjoy reading fic with pairings either canon or not, but I don’t often go “all in” on ships in most narratives I consume. There are notable exceptions (more than three but these are the three most recent—I have no idea how to identify my top ships):

WangXian (CQL). This is surely obvious from the current state of my blog, right? I blame The Untamed and its impossibly tender, only-subtextual-by-a-hair’s-breadth romance. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a show express ultimate devotion, deep affection, true appreciation, complete understanding (eventually), and the sheer *necessity of the other* between two people quite like this one has. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two characters and desperately wanted them together and happy as much as I have these two, so bravo to the cast and crew for generating such second-hand devotion in me.

Silvergifting (Tolkien). This is all @thearrogantemu’s fault. I’d read some Silvergifting before I read These Gifts That You Have Given Me, mostly out of curiosity (some good stuff, too!), but I had never read any Tolkien fic that convinced me it was *true* (on many, many levels, though the ship level is the one pertinent to this post). In any canon-like universe this ship hurts, but in the Gifts universe it hurts the most; it hurts like Hell. It hurts in the way only razor-sharp, sorry-the-universe-works-this-way, oh-are-those-my-entrails-on-the-floor-I-didn’t-even-feel-the-knife tragedy can hurt. And it’s so convincing that it’s just...a fact now. Tolkien just forgot to tell us. So now I ship Silvergifting, but most deeply, specifically THAT Silvergifting. (Meanwhile, 14 year old me continues to look at *significantly* older me like I’m insane.)

ZeLink (Legend of Zelda). Deep down I’m still 12 years old and no amount of fine lines and wrinkles is going to change that. When is Breath of the Wild 2 coming out?

Last Song

I listen to soundtracks and bombastic and dramatic orchestral pieces much more often than I listen to what people mean when they say “songs,” and a significant chunk of the “songs” I listen to are from musicals/operas.

Earlier today it was Hanz Zimmer’s soundtrack to Dark Phoenix (don’t start me up on the continuing disappointment that Phoenix adaptations continue to be to me—you don’t want to hear it; even I don’t want to hear it).

Before that it was Barbra Streisand’s The Broadway Album. (I prefer her outer space cover of “Somewhere” to the actual thing. Fight me.)

Before that it was Carmina Burana (One of my favorite things ever was when we went to a live performance of Carmina Burana and a boy who couldn’t have been more than 7 years old sat in the aisle in front of us and head-banged enthusiastically through “O Fortuna.” It was so metal. You go, kid. You get it.).

Before that it was a splattering of Billy Joel hits with emphasis on “2000 Years”, “River of Dreams”, “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant”, “The Stranger”, and “Only the Good Die Young” (thanks to that outstanding WangXian interpretation!).

Of course the soundtracks to The Untamed/CQL have been on repeat for weeks around here, particularly every single iteration of “WuJi” and the flute-heavy instrumental pieces (man, those are good!).

Not long ago I had Sarah Brightman’s covers of “Figlio Perduto” from La Luna and “Glosoli” and “One Day Like This” from Dreamchaser burning through my iPhone battery (yes, I like popera).

Enya, and especially Shepherd Moons and The Track Which Shall Not Be Named has been on repeat a lot.

Last Movie

I don’t sit down to watch movies that often any more. It just takes too much stillness and undivided attention and more resistance to multi-tasking than I have. The actual last movie that I watched (in a “have it on on another screen while I work” kind of way) was Raiders of the Lost Ark, which, of course, I’ve seen umpteen times and which followed a similar rewatch of the Back to the Future trilogy. The last movie I watched completely without distraction was Book Smart; I don’t watch comedies very often, but I really enjoyed it in an “OMG, I can totally relate to this” kind of way (except for the class president thing—that would have required that I interact with other people my own age and also not be homeschooled). Before that I think it was the Tolkien biopic. Man, I still haven’t written anything about that.

Currently Reading (in order of when I started them)

Oh dear.

The Familiar: part 1, Mark Z Danielewski. *sigh* For as much as I think Danielewski is brilliant and House of Leaves is one of my favorite books ever, I’ve just not been able to get into much of his other work. It’s universally a time and energy investment to penetrate and puzzle through, and I just don’t have as much of that as I used to. House of Leaves makes that investment worth it from early on and is absolutely a page-turner once you settle in, but other than The Fifty Year Sword I’ve just not been able to get into the rest of his work. The Familiar: part 1 is supposed to be the first in a 26 part series which is currently halted at part 4, I think. Without a guarantee of all parts ever being published, I don’t think I’m ready to invest more time into part 1 and may end up abandoning it, unfortunately.

History of The Hobbit, Douglas Anderson. Anderson did what Christopher didn’t and gave The Hobbit the HoMe treatment (if a bit less literal and opaque in format). It’s fascinating (I mean, there’s the Beren and Luthien name drop you were not expecting right there in the first draft), but reading essentially the same passages with only small changes over and over can be a slog, so reading it has been an ongoing project for over a year now.

Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien’s World, Verlyn Fleiger. This is Fleiger’s look at Tolkien’s Middle-earth in light of his association with Owen Barfield. Particularly, she is examining Tolkien’s work in conjunction with Barfield’s Poetic Diction and his thoughts on language and meaning. I have not read Poetic Diction, but I probably will now since it apparently addresses language formation as related to the origin of human consciousness which is SO up my alley.

New Seeds of Contemplation, Thomas Merton. My late sister-in-law had a masters in theology from Notre Dame and became a huge Merton fan. Meanwhile, my best friend actually spent a weekend retreat at The Abbey of Gethsemani. Between hearing about him from the two of them, I developed an interest in Merton. I happened to read “Moral Theology of the Devil” a couple of years ago. It was one of the most illuminating theological things I have read and deeply inspired my own Tolkien fic-writing (let’s just say the progress there is otherwise slow). This book is a collection of pieces which happens to contain that piece, and I’ve been skipping around through it for a while now.

The Lord of the Rings reread (Tolkien, obviously). I hate this, but I am so deep in so many critical Tolkien books that I’ve not had the chance to really sit down and relax into my reread for months and months and will likely just end up starting over. Plus I want to read it concurrently with the next entry in this list and the next entry is taking longer to get through because of its format. That entry being:

The Lord of the the Rings: A Reader’s Companion, Hammond and Scull. This is a treasure trove of data and insights for those really wanting to dig critically-historically into The Lord of the Rings on a chapter-by-chapter, passage-by-passage basis. The only issue with it is that jumping back and forth between the two (as you have to: this is a reference book) tends to kill the mood of The Lord of the Rings when read as it’s meant to be read: for enjoyment!

The Power of Limits: Proportional Harmonies in Nature, Art, and Architecture, Gyorgy Doczi. This has been an ongoing read here and there since Christmas, especially as I work on two personal projects.

The Gospel in a Pluralist Society, Lesslie Newbigin. To be honest I don’t think I am going to finish this one. I like a few of the things he says, things I think are truthful and which need to be confronted in American Christian culture in particular, but it’s just too much Calvin for my taste, too many assumptions I do not share being the heretic that I am, and I spend too much time anger-notating about theology to read it with grace.

In Full Measure I Return to You, thearrogantemu. This is a reread of the (relatively) happy AU fic for my most favoritest Tolkien fic (Gifts), but I’ve put my reread on hold while I finish one of the two projects, after which I am diving in and screw the rest of this list for the time being.

Food Craving

Sushi. My kingdom for some good sushi. I’ve only had sushi once since we got back from NY and while it was the best sushi I have had locally IT WAS NOT OMAKASE AT SUSHI NOZ. It also didn’t require a personal loan to pay for, but *shrug* I’m spoiled now and will forever crave what I can no longer have.

People I’d Like To Get To Know Better

I hate tagging people in these things because I’m awkward and shy and do them so rarely myself that it feels hypocritical for me to ask it of others. That being said: if you’re a follower of my blog and you want to do this, please do! And please tag me! I’d love to get to know more about you 😊.

#getting to know you #wangxianbunnydoodles #tolkien #the untamed #movies #music #books #food

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lokibug · 6 years

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Blinded

Pairing: Loki x Blind!Reader

Summary: Beauty and the Beast AU in which Loki is forced to stay in his Jotun form until another human loves him. He becomes a caretaker for You due to be recently permanently blind.

Warnings: Slight cursing

Song: Haunt by Echoes

A/N: Wow Guys, I never expected this story to get this much appreciation. It’s really incredible, feel free to send me any suggestions or ask to be tagged. I did my best to get you all. Be reminded I’m writing this on mobile haha I also dont own the gifs

This was unbelievable. From the moment they began searching, his daughter was incredibly picky with those she’s interviewed...or they were picky with her. Quickly Y/F/N stood to his feet.

“Excuse us...Mr. Laufeyson. My daughter and I must talk alone.” He interrupted quickly and ushered y/n up by her elbow.

Y/N grabbed the walking stick next to her and began putting it to use. Sliding it across the tiled floor they finally made it to the kitchen. Her father released his hand from her arm and whisper shouted, “Y/N, are you crazy?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Honey, I know you don’t have your sight so I’m telling you that this man looks insane. He’s wearing gloves. He has those doctor’s mask—“

“Surgical mask.”

“You know what I mean. And he has these things...like scars on his forehead...his skin doesn’t look...” he trailed off hoping that Loki wouldn’t hear anything as he resided in the living room.

“I get it now. Wow dad I can’t believe you’re being racist.” Y/N scoffed.

“Racist?! Y/N do you hear what I’m saying?”

“Yeah and it sounds pretty racist.” She places her hands on her hips. He shook his head and grabbed her arms.

“Listen to me, you don’t have to choose him right away. There could be more applicants.”

“Dad, no. I’m an adult now. If it wasn’t for my condition I would’ve already been gone. I’m not going to sit around and wait for someone to come around. I’m taking this in my own hands while I can.” His face softened a bit. His daughter was right, she was an adult and he could no longer shelter her. “Trust me...” she softly added a small smile appearing afterwards.

Loki shifted upon his heels as he glanced at the picture frames that littered on top of the fireplace. Photos of Y/N’s life captured into small papers. He never understood why humans did this.

I suppose anyone with the lifespan of an insect would take part in this, he thought to himself. He wondered what was so dangerous that a human could be doing to end up blind. Believing asking for help is a sign of weakness, he would soon learn the truth behind his own faulty thoughts.

Interrupting Loki’s gazing, y/n reentered the living room along side her father, “You’re hired, that is if you want the job.” Loki was slightly shocked, but not enough knowing that his words of persuasion were far superior to those around him.

“Infatuating. I accept.”

With the god accepting the job from y/n, they began the life adjustment right away. The movers had brought the few pieces of furniture from Y/N’s father’s home back into the condo that she had resided in before the incident and they brought the few things Loki had with him in the apartment that he was close to being evicted from. He allowed them to do the heavy work, gathering his belongings...all except the timer. A gold detailed hourglass that would lose tiny grains of black sand as days passed by. It now resided in the condo that he shared with y/n for a week now.

Y/N slowly walked out of her room. Upon waking up this morning, she decided she would begin familiarizing herself with the items that were in her home. Of course this was a few hours ago and she finally pulled herself out of her room. Testing herself she gently walked near the living room. Her breathing was a tad shaky due to her nerves acting up. Her lips parted she moved her hands onto the counter. Being unaware of Loki’s presence in the corner of the living room, she felt comfortable leaving herself on display. Her fingers grazed over a ceramic angel to an unlit candle. She chuckled happily as she remembered leaving these items here. Soon her fingertips touched something unfamiliar...it was cold...freezing even.

“What?...” she whispered making Loki look back up from the book he was reading. Due to being inside the home and the drapes closed, he too was on full display. His dark blue skin not covered by drug store makeup he felt more comfortable.

“Don’t touch that!” He growled, darting his red eyes towards y/n.

She yelped and quickly with drew her hand. “Loki!” She shouted angrily.

“You mortals are completely naive to the fact that you’re not the only ones who matter. Or have respect for other people’s belongings.” He grumbled now at her side. She furrowed her eyebrows, being extremely insulted.

“You mortals? And who are you to be talking to me like that? Do you even know how impolite it is to not announce yourself to a blind person?” She took her walking stick and guided herself towards the black wooden table. She leaned against it.

“Its an artifact....it...” he began trying to find ways to explain it, “it was a gift...from my mother.”

“All you had to say was to not touch it.” She said as if it were obvious.

“Yes...well then. Don’t touch it.” Loki shot back.

“Okay.” “Good.”

“Fine.” She spoke before sitting at the table. The chair was pretty tall and allowed her legs to rest gently as they hung. The two were both very stubborn and strong willed. Loki was beginning to understand this about her from their week together. He often found himself becoming irritated with the ways of mortals even now...the only different thing with her was that she too realized the faults in humanity. She knew that morals have fallen so far and knew that it was just the way of the world.

“Where to today?” He asked as he slowly slid the chair out next to her.

“Nowhere important. I was thinking some coffee.” She commented.

“Coffee?...I’ll never understand why you indulge yourself in such mundane tasks.” He added as he tapped his cold fingers on the table.

“Oh I’m sorry Mr. extravagant, let me go drive my car on the race track or I know I’ll go back to my art studio. Oh wait...” She leaned back and took her sunglasses off, placing them on the table as she pointed towards her eyes.

Loki’s eyes scanned the scar that ran down her eye and over the top of her cheek. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“I’ve also noticed how you haven’t freaked out at my monstrous appearance.” He thought.

“Loki, can I ask you something?” Y/N announced.

“Depends.”

“My dad said that...you wore a surgical mask? Glasses too. I mean I know I don’t have the luxury anymore but...can you tell me what you look like?..” she nervously questioned. The curiosity was killing her, she desperately wanted to know what the man living in her condo looked like.

Loki was taken back a bit. He was used to her being so straight forward and snapped back at all his snarking comments. Yet, here she was looking almost child like...simply just to know what he looked like. There was only one problem, he was going to have to lie. Of course this was only slightly, he felt his true form was not this but what he used to be charmed as.

“I...well yes. I wear the mask and the glasses because I have a um...skin condition?” He said more like a question, “and if I get too much sun or light, it could damage it. As for my appearance, I’d say I’m pretty light skinned...due to the lack of sun. My hair is black, it does not pass my shoulders.”

Y/N nodded as she began using her incredible imagination to conjure him up in her mind. Sometimes she would find herself forgetting what things looked like, her doctors warned her of this. “What color are your eyes?” She asked simply.

“Green...sometimes they appear as blue. It depends.” He cleared his throat becoming too invested within his own thoughts. He completely dreaded his appearance. Looking in the mirror would disgust him and he would avoid it as much as he possibly could. He didn’t realize how much he cherished the illusion...till it was gone.

She laughed lightly, “Wow, you must be a charmer with the ladies.” She teased.

“I’m not interested.” He stayed calmly.

“Charmer with the men?” She questioned with her eyebrows raised.

“Gender isn’t the problem y/n. People are.” Loki stated, “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” He made note of his disappearance before he did so.

Y/N caught on to his disengagement within society. Taking much more notice to the tones he would use and the things in general, she knew there was a reason. Someone had corrupted his thinking, allowing it to affect the way he treated people. Y/N knew this because she felt the same.

The sun set and the streets roared. Tourists and workers walked amongst the two. Y/N had her hand gripped tightly among Loki’s elbow, keeping herself as close to him as possible. She would become uneasy while in the streets as this was all new to her. The God had as well, worried that anyone could discover his identity.

“Are we there yet?” Y/N asked. The wind blew through her hair and she mentally thanked herself for remembering to wear a coat on such a cold night. Her jeans were gray and her shirt black. Loki has picked out the boots she wore for her. They too were black.

“I think so, this voice in the box is saying that we have two streets to go.” He said as he held Y/N’s phone in his left gloves hand. He wore a gray wool trench coat with large black buttons along with casual black jeans fitted to his liking and a dark gray t shirt that he had fetched from a thrift store. As for his “disguise” he had Y/N to thank for that.

“Loki! Come here.” She had called out as she stood in front of her closet. Loki has just gotten dressed properly, he never gotten cold due to his jotun blood but wearing a coat would allow him to blend in easier. Making his way towards her room she stood there with a scarf in her hand. Y/N traced her fingers along the fabric.

“Loki?” She questioned making sure he was there. “Yes, I’m here.”

“The cafe is kind of bright, so I thought instead of a mask you might like a scarf? I mean I’m not sure what color this is...I’m almost positive it’s a scarf. I went through a phase where I used to wear them all the time.” She held her hand out as the scarf dangled. He grabbed it gently and didn’t exactly hate the idea. It was better than having to use that grimy makeup he bought.

“...Thanks.” He said softly a little confused as to why she would still help him despite his attitude. He was quite cold, but it never changed her attitude as much.

“Also, I have this hat. I used to wear it a lot too. I’m not sure why I stopped. If memory serves right, it’s right up there. I can’t reach it so maybe you could.” She moved aside from the closet’s entrance.

Loki stepped forward and looked up. There were a few hats in there. One stood out. It was black and looked it would cover his forehead. Immediately he grabbed it effortlessly.

“Black?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“It’s already sun down, but it still helps the...condition. I um...”

“You’re welcome.” She finished for him.

“One more thing, choose my shoes?”

“It’s a phone.” Y/N replied and chuckled lightly. Loki tolled his eyes. In response.

“Just for your information, I’m rolling my eyes.”

“Don’t do it so much, they might fall out.” She commented and held her hand over her mouth gently as she chuckled again.

Loki allowed himself a smirk.

Looking as if they might rob the place, Loki held the door to the cafe open for Y/N. The familiar scent filled up y/n’s nostrils and she smiled widely. Suddenly she felt Loki’s strong gloved hand wrap around her arm, specifically her elbow. “There’s a few tables by a window...and some closer to the stage...which would you prefer?” He asked leaning down a tad to speak quietly into her ear. His voice still was very easy sounding and made her feel a bit calmer.

“Umm...the stage? It’s a little more dim there.” She suggested and Loki nodded in response.

“Okay.” He walked her slowly over towards the maroon colored couch in the stage area. There were a few comfortable looking chairs and stools around. He had no idea what this was supposed to be. He was even more confused than before. Loki allowed Y/N to sit first then sat next to her. Seeing as though some people stared at him, and others completely seemed as if he hadn’t existed at all...he felt a tad more comfortable than his past times being out of his room.

“Y/N, What is this?” He questioned in a serious tone.

Y/N chuckled lightly, “You’ll see.”

A waitress had come by and asked what they wanted to drink. Loki simply ordered tea and Y/N ordered a coffee.

Not too long after, people began sitting closer. Loki’s eyes immediately scanned across the cafe wondering what was to begin. Nothing. That was when a woman in about her 20s littered in tattoos and piercings sat next to Loki.

“I totally dig your vampire aesthetic dude.” She stared before flipping through her notes on her phone.

“I beg your pardon?” He asked while the girl hadn’t responded. Y/N’s hearing being far better than it used to be, she chuckled hearing the comment.

“Did you wear all black again?” Y/N whispered towards Loki. He glanced down at his appearance and said nothing. “I’ll take your silence as a yes.” As the spot light shone down on the stage, the waitress came back with their drinks. Y/N quietly thanked her and held the warm cup in her hands. Loki did the same. Suddenly a man in about his late 20s approached the stage with a piece of paper in his hands.

“Thank you all for coming.” He said kindly. With that everyone including Y/N either shouted a small “wooo” or snapped their fingers. “My depression is a demon underneath my bed...disguised as a friend...” he trailed on. Slam poetry.

After hearing more, Loki started recognizing these speeches as a form of poetry. He was familiar with Earth’s ancient poets but was never introduced to such a raw form of poetry before, and directly from the poet’s mouth. Much to his surprise, after putting his pride aside...he found himself looking forward to the next performance and the next. These midgardians look so different...Loki thought to himself, yet despite that everyone casts their attention towards the speaker. This was definitely new to the God.

Upon hearing the last performance, Y/N felt the feeling in the woman’s voice. The power. The radiance. Not realizing it, as she clapped along with others a single tear ran down her cheek. Loki looked to his side and seen the tear leak from behind Y/N’s sunglasses. She really did take this seriously. Passionate even. He studied her face for a few seconds before looking in the opposite direction.

Walking home was relaxing. The wind blew gently and the two only exchanged a few words as they both enjoyed the sound of silence. It was comfortable. Soon they arrived home.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” She asked placing her hand on the counter to steady herself.

“What was that?” Loki asked curiously.

“Slam poetry.” “Oh.” He said silently as he took off the scarf and hat.

“I thought you’d might like it...I could hear you sometimes.” She commented.

Loki arched an eyebrow and asked, “Hear me?”

“Yeah, you sometimes read out loud...poems. I thought you’d might enjoy this.”

Loki felt his heart thud feeling slightly embarrassed. Vulnerable even. Had she really done this for him? He blinked a few times. He said nothing.

“Loki?”

“It’s not very polite to eavesdrop y/n. Goodnight.” He stated before walking off towards his room leaving y/n to believe that the God was no more than cold man.

Loki taglist: @drakesfiance @sunflqweroses @bambamwolf87 @pandaqua @bonelessbarnes @dorkybryan @hunter-demigod-timelord @thatmemequeen @powerstrangerdacre @barnes-infinity-bucky Story Taglist: @mrssangsterstylesxavier @slender—spirit @awkward-silence-turtle @vxidnik @fandoms-allovertheplace @limedane21 @yourpotatotwiceremooved @crazyweirdgeekthatneedstochill @ajduurikscjsja @kiwigrease @fireismysaftey @nhievyenne @bambi-loki @bilesxbilinskixlahey @jessiejunebug @imarockstar45 @fuckthatfeeling @the-deity-ofthe-cosmos @ficnalunaus @chibiyanai @zarizha @mell-bell @blueskiesbleakeyes @moonfaery @always-kneel-to-loki @graveyardchild @some-person-somewhere @nutmeg3-7 @aljadams369 @marvelc00kie35 @harleykittykat @lokis-little-kitten @sergeantmistress @sparkling-liability @vicksaturn @youveseen--thebutcher @wickedscorpio22 @zeddlocket @sheeraverage @trenchcoatdevilsworld @wishrains @lokilover5813 @deadmanwalked Permanent Taglist: @marvelismylifffe @libbymouse

#loki fic #loki fanfiction #loki x y/n #loki x oc #loki x you #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki of jotunheim #tomhiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston #steve rogers #avengers infinity war #loki

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cryptochurp · 6 years

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Op Ed: Tulip Myths and Modern Cryptocurrency Skepticism

“Ever heard of tulips?” It’s a question anyone who is publically involved in the cryptocurrency space has been asked multiple times. With the enormous gains in value the industry has seen, many observers come to the same conclusion. It’s a bubble.

The take is not a terrible one and many experienced cryptocurrency traders agree with the sentiment. Bubbles have come to be an expected occurrence in the space. The difference in opinion comes when deciding whether the “pop” will be a minor setback or the final conclusion in an exciting but short-lived ride.

On one side are the supporters of cryptocurrency. Their motivations can be boiled down to two points: desire for profits and a belief that the technology will benefit humanity. They believe that bubbles are a natural phenomenon in price discovery and an inevitable part of the long-term upward trend in value that will occur as cryptocurrencies become more utilized. They also understand that, while bubbles can hurt some traders in the short term, they are a necessary evil in the development of a technology which stands to dramatically increase human financial freedom. Sometimes these motivations can seem at odds, but in general they coexist within the community.

Get rich making the world a better place. It’s an attractive pitch.

On the other side are the skeptics. Doubt in cryptocurrency has made strange bedfellows of a band of commentators as diverse as it is vocal. Nobel prize economists, billionaire bankers, goldbugs and central banks have all weighed in to signal their prediction of the industry’s inevitable demise. And with the spotlight of increasing coin valuations has come even more doubters. In the age of Twitter, it’s almost essential that you have an opinion on the matter and that you let the world know it. For detractors, the tulip meme often comes into play:

OG Bitcoin pic.twitter.com/qQSMJYhLR7

— Tommy Vietor (@TVietor08) January 6, 2018

For skeptics as much as believers, there is a personal economic motivation. While they may not have cashed in on the extraordinary rise of cryptocurrencies, they think the game is rigged from the start. By keeping their hard earned cash out of the market, they are saving themselves from an “inevitable” crash to zero.

But under this current of self-preservation is an ethical play opposite to that of cryptocurrency supporters. Many detractors believe that this technology is not just ridiculous but actually harmful to society. What drives this outlook? The true history of the tulip bubble can give us an interesting view of the motivations driving their sentiment.

An Early Mania

Tulip Mania is the go-to story whenever someone wants to talk about humanity’s penchant for irrational exuberance in financial markets. It’s the catchy name for the extraordinary rise in value, and subsequent crash, of Dutch tulip bulb valuations over a four month span from November 1636 to February 1637. This phenomenon had devastating effects on the Dutch economy and left many people in financial ruin.

At least that’s how the story is told.

But according to Anne Goldgar, Professor of Early Modern History at King’s College London and author of Tulipmania: Money, Honor, and Knowledge in the Dutch Golden Age, the popular story is mostly an exaggeration.

The description of her book reads like this:

“We have heard how these bulbs changed hands hundreds of times in a single day, and how some bulbs, sold and resold for thousands of guilders, never even existed. Tulipmania is seen as an example of the gullibility of crowds and the dangers of financial speculation. But it wasn’t like that … not one of these stories is true.”

Goldgar uses extensive research to expose that, while there was a rise and crash of tulip prices, much of what we believe about the period is the product of historical exaggeration from a small number of writers.

What drove this? According to Goldgar, it was a product of societal anxieties triggered by the immense riches of the Dutch Golden Age. As Lorraine Boissoneault writes in Smithsonian Magazine’s recent piece on the book, “All the outlandish stories of economic ruin, of an innocent sailor thrown in prison for eating a tulip bulb, of chimney sweeps wading into the market in hopes of striking it rich — those come from propaganda pamphlets published by Dutch Calvinists worried that the tulip-propelled consumerism boom would lead to societal decay.”

English historian Simon Schama also writes of the period: “The prodigious quality of their [the Dutch] success went to their heads, but it also made them a bit queasy. Even their most uninhibited documents of self-congratulation are haunted by the threat of overvloed (abundance) ... a word heavy with warning as well as euphoria.”

When looked at through the lens of this historic research, the legend of the tulip bubble becomes less about financial mania and more about the way that an economic memory can reflect a society’s collective mindset. The Dutch Golden Age represents a period during the 17th century when “Dutch trade, science, military, and art were among the most acclaimed in the world.”

This transformation was termed the “Dutch Miracle” by historian K.W. Swart. But, while it is easy to look back now and realize this era was a huge stepping stone to the modern prosperity the Dutch people enjoy today, at the time the progress was not as apparent. Many of the Dutch found a hard time adjusting to a society where fortunes were being created overnight. Schama compares the mindset to one which was found by de Tocqueville in 19th century America: “that strange melancholy which often haunts the inhabitants of democratic countries in the midst of their abundance, and the disgust at life which sometimes seizes upon them in the midst of calm and easy circumstances.”

While there was undoubtedly a run on Dutch Tulip prices, it seems there was an equal run on seizing the opportunity to find a negative aspect to extraordinary societal progress. Today, we are seeing the same mindset from cryptocurrency skeptics.

Modern Anxieties

Cryptocurrency has arrived at an uncomfortable moment in history. There is a wide debate surrounding whether or not technology is hurting human progress. Many argue that smartphones are making kids depressed and robots are taking our jobs. The thought is that technology which was supposed to make life better is instead causing us to become stupid, antisocial and unhealthy. On top of this, the freedom of speech made possible by the internet is being questioned for the alleged harm it can cause to democracy.

It is in this atmosphere of negativity that critics have found their “tulip moment” in cryptocurrency. It is being latched onto as an lightning rod for these growing worries about a society that is becoming radically shaped by the digital age. Detractors consistently ignore any possible justification for cryptocurrency to be considered useful and instead focus on its most distasteful features:

Haha, I feel sorry for all you losers who missed out on the Bitcoin train. You should've bought in years ago, like me: A perfectly normal man who coincidentally hoarded a virtual currency during a time when it's only use was for sex trafficking and purchasing organs.

— Shane (@Shanehasabeard) December 8, 2017

Many cannot push their analysis past observations of price movements. Warren Buffett partner Charlie Munger has described the cryptocurrency scene as “total insanity” and recently told an audience at University of Michigan’s Ross School of Business, “I think it is perfectly asinine to even pause to think about them. It’s bad people, crazy bubble, bad idea, luring people into the concept of easy wealth without much insight or work.”

Others, echoing popular sentiment questioning unbridled freedom of speech, are worried about a lack of governmental oversight. Back in 2013 author Charlie Stross wrote in Why I Want Bitcoin to Die in a Fire that “Bitcoin looks like it was designed as a weapon intended to damage central banking and money-issuing banks, with a Libertarian political agenda in mind — to damage states’ ability to collect tax and monitor their citizens’ financial transactions … late-period capitalism may suck, but replacing it with Bitcoin would be like swapping out a hangnail for Fournier's gangrene.”

Economist Paul Krugman cited the article in his piece Bitcoin Is Evil, adding “Stross doesn’t like that agenda, and neither do I.” While Krugman did admit he was open to conversation on the topic, fellow economist, Joseph Stiglitz, has been less forgiving. Recently he told Bloomberg “Bitcoin is successful only because of its potential for circumvention, lack of oversight...So it seems to me it ought to be outlawed … It doesn’t serve any socially useful function.”

The Progress Paradox

Are these arguments baseless? Not at all. Cryptocurrencies do in fact make many unsavory things possible. But, much like supporters believe bubbles are a necessary evil for price growth, they also believe that some illicit activities are a worthwhile trade-off for the ability to have a censorship-resistant, value-transfer system. They believe the win for personal freedom trumps all else.

It looks as if this idea is spreading. Bitcoin alone has grown from roughly 6,000 transactions per day in January of 2011 to 240,000 transactions on January 1, 2018. With 1000+ other cryptocurrencies, each growing their own communities, this desire for this financial independence appears contagious.

To the critics, these statistics do not matter. They will continue to focus on perceived faults. As the myth of the Tulip Bubble illustrates, this is rooted in human psychology. Some people are set on ignoring the progress around them.

De Tocqueville observed: “In America I saw the freest and most enlightened men placed in the happiest circumstances that the world affords; it seemed to me as if a cloud habitually hung upon their brow, and I thought them serious and almost sad, even in their pleasures.” Over the last few centuries, technology has made our lives less nasty, brutish and short. But, for some of us, the natural reaction has been to question whether it was really worth it.

Cryptocurrency now finds itself at the center of this larger debate over the morality of technology in a developing society. If supporters have their way, it holds the power to usher in a new era of human economic freedom. If critics have their way it will be regulated to death.

Let’s hope one side ends up as forgotten as Calvinist pamphlet writers.

This is a guest post by Kenny Spotz. Views expressed are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Bitcoin Magazine or BTC Media.

This article originally appeared on Bitcoin Magazine.

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#BTC #HODL #ETH #CryptoChurp.com

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ellahmacdermott · 6 years

Text

Op Ed: Tulip Myths and Modern Cryptocurrency Skepticism

Get rich making the world a better place. It’s an attractive pitch.

OG Bitcoin pic.twitter.com/qQSMJYhLR7

— Tommy Vietor (@TVietor08) January 6, 2018

An Early Mania

At least that’s how the story is told.

The description of her book reads like this:

Modern Anxieties

— Shane (@Shanehasabeard) December 8, 2017

The Progress Paradox

Let’s hope one side ends up as forgotten as Calvinist pamphlet writers.

This is a guest post by Kenny Spotz. Views expressed are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Bitcoin Magazine or BTC Media.

This article originally appeared on Bitcoin Magazine.

from InvestmentOpportunityInCryptocurrencies via Ella Macdermott on Inoreader https://bitcoinmagazine.com/articles/op-ed-tulip-myths-and-modern-cryptocurrency-skepticism/

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consciousowl · 7 years

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Healing: Hawaiian Style

Perfection as a living experience is available to anyone at any time under any circumstances.

Recently, I took a brief vacation to clear my mind and came across a book on Ho’oponopono, the ancient Hawaiian process of forgiveness and healing in relationships (with oneself and others). I scanned through it and was immediately stunned by its unique approach. At the time, my back was against the wall, having been given notice to move from my home of 15 years within 60 days. On top of that, my job was very shaky. August was a very slow month for me, and produced almost no results. I wasn’t sure what to do besides reach out. As I slowly went through the simple book by Ulrich Dupree, Ho'oponopono: The Hawaiian Forgiveness Ritual as the Key to Your Life's Fulfillment, his words popped out and began to speak to me. I went through his book several times within a day or two, and a whole new empowering perspective dawned on me. Six weeks later, my situation had totally turned around. I found a delightful new home much better than the one before at a reasonable price. I was complimented by my boss, and had become highly productive. My partner had gone all out in ingenious ways to make sure everything fit together perfectly. How could so simple an approach make so profound a change in my life?

Look Within to Find Your World

The perspective of Ho’oponopono is truly a radical one, asserting that there is no one and nothing outside of you. Everything you experience, YOU experience. Everything happens within the context of your own ultimate being.

Everyone you meet is your mirror. What he or she experiences is what you experience. She emerges at just the right moment to reveal something about yourself that you don’t fully realize. If you want to help her, you must first help yourself. As you work on yourself, you heal her. Just the opposite of what you might reflexively suppose. We all want to be reasonable about this. Surely, he or she exists independent of me. Therefore, what he goes through is not my problem. Quantum physics underscores our inseparability. We are all totally interlinked, whether we realize it or not.

Healing Begins: You Are 100% Responsible

In a relationship, we look for reciprocity, a 50-50 deal. I do my part, and you do your part. We are even. Don’t expect me to do it all for you. However, in the Hawaiian Huna tradition, you are responsible for all of it with no exceptions. If someone hurts you deeply, you must forgive him and let go. To fail to do this will just add to your pain. You are responsible, not only for what you do to someone else, but also what they do to you. You can never really plead justification. You are cause of both your actions and their responses.

However, Huna goes way beyond this. I am responsible for what another does to another, even if it is on the other side of the world. My world IS my world. Do I choose to own it? No excuses. No blame, shame or guilt, only responsibility. I caused it. If I want it different, I must work on myself.

Back to Zero, Back to God

The living master of Ho’oponopono, Dr. Ihaleakala Hew Len, uses a clean white board to illustrate God as pure possibility. At Zero, there are no limits. As we add thoughts, ideas and attachments in our life, we migrate farther and farther from God, and from our True Self. Dr. Hew Len calls it programming, or data. To make progress, you simply delete the program and erase the data.

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Dr. Hew Len must know what he is doing. He got famous by curing an entire ward of criminally insane patients, men who got there through murder, rape and child molestation. They had pled insanity simply to escape execution. Dr. Len didn’t do traditional therapy. In fact, he didn’t even see the patients clinically. He merely met them socially and had a good time with them. On the side, Dr. Len would constantly review their records of misdeeds and get in touch with what was in him that caused their behavior. What painful, erroneous memory was playing within him to prompt them to do such horrendous deeds. It wasn’t them, it was the program pushing their buttons. Within a few weeks and months, the patients were taken out of their shackles and isolation cells and put to work. They proved so responsible and cooperative that they were eventually released and sent home. Dr. Hew Len refused any credit for it. He claims God did it all, and Ho’oponopono was the means to let go and let God.

Dead Past or Living Present: Your Choice

In Ho’oponopono, we have no choice but to surrender, and open up to inspiration. Contemporary neuroscience suggests that our thoughts and intentions happen well before we are consciously aware of them. Experiment after experiment reveals people being aware of a thought a fraction of a second after it lights up in the brain. As the original est training maintained, we operate like machines. The way out is to surrender to the present moment. By appealing to our Divine Self, and thus the Infinite, we open the way for the program to be deleted. In its place, we receive a flash of inspiration. You might say from a conventional religious perspective, as we keep turning to God in difficult situations, He continues to reveal his will for us, along with a way out. As you get comfortable with this process of surrender, your entire life begins to seem magical, with synchronicities and breakthroughs on a daily basis. In the last few weeks, people have opened up to me in surprising ways I would not have anticipated. I no longer know it all, or pretend I have it all together. They thus feel more comfortable reaching out.

As you get comfortable with this process of surrender, your entire life begins to seem magical.

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Healing Process: Keep Erasing the Whiteboard

Dr. Hew Len got so wrapped up in this process that all he ever wants to do these days is clean, clean, clean. As you will notice, problems keep coming up for us on a daily basis, no matter how spiritual we reckon ourselves to be. He actually enjoys this process of surrender. He is totally centered deep within. What is in me that is causing this problem for myself and others? I repent of this damaging data and seek divine pardon to erase it, and set me free. This goes for international tension and who won the Presidency, as much as it has to do with my significant others and close friends.

The faster we clean and erase, the faster life seems to move. Rather than it being a burden, it becomes a joy. This paradox has been observed in Buddhist monks, who, despite their self-imposed deprivations, can be joyous and playful, completely present to life, themselves and others. Just the opposite of what we might expect.

Four Miracle Phrases

Dr. Hew Len chose to popularize his work through Dr. Joe Vitale, star of the runaway hit book and movie combo, The Secret. When Joe came across his work he was stunned. A staunch proponent of the Law of Attraction, he saw a higher principle at work which he couldn’t explain. Joe learned everything he could from Dr. Hew Len and staked his entire professional reputation on Dr. Hew Len’s work. There are just four simple phrases that you repeat in every kind of situation, usually silently within yourself: 1. I’m sorry. 2. Please forgive me. 3. I love you. 4. Thank You. I’m sorry: We usually say this only under social obligation. Most of the time, we don’t mean it all that much, but mutter it to get out of awkward situations. However, sometimes we actually mean it, when we have blown it, and caused tremendous emotional pain to someone we truly love. For example, we can think of a teenager desperately hoping to get into Harvard blowing his final exam, only to face his parents. The reason you apologize is because you perceive that you suffer, which connects you to your deeper self, and your feelings. This way, you no longer reject the problem (blaming yourself or others), but instead, you know where you stand and recognize your learning task. Please forgive me: Even if we are a born-again Christian leading a Spirit-filled life, we say this only occasionally. Since God forgives us for everything, we need not ask it. Good Catholics, on the other hand, with Mass and Confession, know the meaning of these words. If you have ever used these words to hold onto a precious relationship, you know very well just how powerful these words are. In other words, this phrase means: “Please forgive me for having until now judged you (or the situation), and in the past disregarded our spiritual identity and connectedness.” I love you: You may recognize “Aloha” from a trip to the Hawaiian Islands. Its core meaning is love, and recognition of the divine in another person. The spirit of Aloha suggests the utmost hospitality and consideration. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You are uniquely precious to me. In other words, “I love you and I love myself unconditionally with all our weaknesses and faults.” Thank You: If you have been to Honolulu, you have heard “Mahalo” over and over again. Profound gratitude is comparatively rare, and yet it can make all the difference in one’s life. It reminds me of the story of Jesus Christ healing 10 lepers from their horrible skin malignancy. Only one of them turned back to thank him. The Secret rightly pointed out that gratitude is the single most important factor in attracting what you want. When you thank someone, it invites more of the same. There is no easier way to more of what I want!

Ho’oponopono Online / Offline

Since Joe Vitale went around the world promoting this ancient art, it’s becoming familiar, and we now have a variety of ways to learn and master this process. I would recommend viewing online Dr. Vitale and Dr. Hew Len together in seminars he promoted. I would also highly recommend both of Dr. Vitale’s books on Ho’oponopono: Zero Limits and At Zero. Joe is conscientious, diligent and thorough. He holds nothing back. He wants, you, the reader to take full advantage of everything that he has learned. Mabel Katz, a long-time disciple of Dr. Hew Len, travels around the world giving lectures and courses. You can find much of it online. Mabel, being both Argentinian and Jewish, offers a delightful perspective on this work. It is most revealing that she started out a sophisticated skeptic and found God in the process. Much of her material is in Spanish, but you can find books and videos in English. Many people have begun integrating Ho’oponopono into their work, and offer classes of various kinds. The youthful Dr. Matthew James started Kona University and combines it with advanced NLP work. Matt grew up with meditation. His parents study under a Kahuna master well acquainted with the process.

Making Perfection the Context for Your Life

If you have a divine self, which Ho’oponopono maintains, then you are inherently perfect, even when the programming running through you separates you from that experience. Garbage data can result in profound dis-ease, where you are in need of healing. The sudden release provided through repentance, pardon and reconciliation can restore your sense of perfection. Don’t let the idea of confession and pardon scare you away. These terms are freighted with negative connotations from religious practices that too often focus on guilt. They are actually meant to restore and release. Redemption in the Abrahamic traditions means to restore a person or thing to its pristine original condition, as though nothing had ever happened. It just might be that the process of Ho’oponopono is the formula for healing our Planet and bringing us all together in divine love. Certainly, looking outside ourselves fails to satisfy. It is also futile to insist on reciprocity. “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.” It all starts with “I.” You can make perfection the context for your life when you realize that the ultimate truth is that it is all perfect, just the way it is. Always was. Always will be. You can get there through divine revelation, or through practicing Ho’oponopono.

Healing: Hawaiian Style appeared first on http://consciousowl.com.

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verygooster · 7 years

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I rank the ‘Fast & Furious’ franchise because I just watched the eighth (EIGHTH!) one.

I recently watched Fate of the Furious, which I liked but also actually took a few issues with -- and look, don’t feed me the nonsense about checking my brain at the door. Yes, this is a fun, action-packed franchise but that we expect at least some competence in our action-driven narratives is the difference between Marvel/John Wick/Fast & Furious-tier action movies, and Transformers/Anything Asylum has ever done.

For a side character, I never liked how this franchise treated Elena (played by Elsa Pataky), the Brazilian cop character who debuted in Fast Five and sort of hung around in Fast & Furious 6 and Furious 7. To say she plays a pivotal role in Fate of the Furious feels like a stretch, because said pivotal role is, for all intents and purposes, the “woman in the fridge” role to give Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) some personal stakes since Brian (the late Paul Walker) and Mia (Jordana Brewster) are retired, and his plot thread with Letty (Michelle Rodriguez) wrapped up in Furious 7. She was basically a “seat-filler” for Dom until he and Letty could overcome their obstacles and then is Hobbs’ (Dwayne Johnson) sidekick for a brief two minutes before she takes the stage here and everything plays out like it does.

I’m also curious how the franchise handles the whole “Hey the family is cool with the Shaw boys” thing moving forward--and you know Universal has had meetings about a Shaw brothers spin-off film.

Anyway the rest of the movie was as ridiculous as one would expect and it was mostly fun. And with that, I’m going to rank the series from worst to best because why not:

2 Fast 2 Furious (2003)

2 Fast 2 Furious is absolutely the lowest point of the franchise, but still watchable as a “hangover movie” (thanks, We Hate Movies!). It’s not as interesting as what the rest of the franchise puts forward, but I think its biggest crime in hindsight is that it follows up on the wrong character. Although the dynamic between Paul Walker and Vin Diesel became a big part of the series’ appeal, when The Fast and the Furious came out, it was very much a Vin Diesel vehicle/break-out moment for him, and the way that film ends very much opens up an opportunity to follow up on Dominic Toretto in a second film. Without doing any searching and going off my memory, and through no fault of the film, I believe Diesel felt he could use that first movie to launch his career outside of it, which he sort of did, and thus did not come back for part two. As for the movie itself, it introduces Tej (Chris “Ludacris” Bridges) and Roman (Tyrese Gibson), but the villain is somehow a LAME Miami drug kingpin (Cole Hauser) and so much of the movie retreads part one too much to stand out.

Fast & Furious (2009)

When the Giant Beast crew recorded commentaries for every film up to Furious 7, that meant I would have to revisit the fourth one that laid the foundations of what the series would reinvent itself into. I remember really disliking Fast & Furious when I first saw it, and revisiting it, I feel like it has the same problems I had with 2 Fast 2 Furious: outside of the racing, this is a generic “agent is after drug kingpin” movie, but it does reunite Brian, Dom, Mia, and Letty (who is central to the plot) and that’s about where it succeeds, along with introducing us to Gisele (Gal Gadot), which is a plus. We actually also meet Rico and Tego, played by Puerto Rican superstars Don Omar and Tego Calderon, who are like the comic sidekicks of the franchise, but help Dom and the crew out in Fast Five and Fate of the Furious. It is more watchable than 2 Fast 2 Furious.

The Fate of the Furious (2017)

Brian and Mia are happily settled and not fasting or furious-ing, and it seemed like Dom and Letty were happy just livin’ it up in Cuba until Cipher came knocking at their door. I honestly think Charlize Theron is GREAT as the film’s villain although the writer is all over the place with her and tries too much to make her Bane. The movie outdoes Furious 7′s insane setpieces with the New York and Russia sequences (I think I had to change brains during the whole third act) almost to a fault -- the movies try to outdo themselves each time, which in terms of blockbuster filmmaking is understandable, but there’s a point where you have to know when to rein it in a bit too. In fact, my favorite sequence is the prison break scene, which involves zero cars. While I appreciate the movie treating me with respect and gets the why of “Dom goes rogue” very quickly out of the way, I just can’t get behind how the movie treats Elena, Roman and Tej fighting for Ramsey like cartoon characters, and how it arguably muddles the impact of Han’s death with how they handle the Shaw brothers (though they are in some fun scenes). Great Helen Mirren cameo!

Fast & Furious 6 (2013)

Fast & Furious 6 is a perfectly fine, if not really good action movie and builds on the reinvention of Fast Five. The crew is somewhere past being a heist crew but under the level of superheroes they become by Furious 7. Luke Evans as Owen Shaw is fun because you always want to love to hate a sneering English/British/Welsh antagonist and this is about when the series’ villains become really, mysteriously well-financed supervillains. I liked how they were always one step ahead of Dom and the crew. There are some great emotional beats here, especially between Han (Sung Kang) and Gisele. Gina Carano is having fun in it, and this film, before Fate of the Furious, had the most ridiculous, but still enjoyable, climactic setpiece in this franchise.

The Fast & The Furious: Tokyo Drift (2006)

The third installment in the franchise is director Justin Lin’s first stab at it, and he would helm that ship for three more movies. Tokyo Drift also seems among the most divisive. It might feature the best soundtrack of the franchise, first of all. Secondly, this is still in the era when the street racing wasn’t an anomaly and still played a major role in the plot. I’m actually not sure what makes it so divisive outside of it just not really following up on either Brian or Dom, though I suppose if you squint hard you’ll be surprised this wasn’t direct-to-DVD. On its own, it’s a pretty fun look (and exaggeration?) at Japanese street racing culture with a fun yakuza plot and “gaijin-out-of-water” stuff thrown in. Even the philosophy of the racing is different, less about the finish line and more about the art of drifting. It’s hysterical how much this movie puts drifting on a pedestal as someone who’s watched so much Initial D. Sean (Lucas Black) is an okay character (and we actually see him again in Furious 7 in one awkward scene), but more importantly this is the film that introduced series favorite Han, who is incredibly chill about everything. The dynamic of the two characters isn’t as strong as Brian and Dom, but considering we follow Han to two more sequels in cinema’s most insane timeline ret-con, that’s perfectly fine. Oh, and Sonny Chiba is in it!

Furious 7 (2015)

Furious 7’s rank on the list feels like a bit of a cheat. That isn’t to say it’s an underwhelming movie. Outside of Tokyo Drift and The Fast and the Furious, Furious 7 may be the one I’ve seen the most. The elephant in the room that is Paul Walker’s untimely passing surrounds this movie, and it’s actually exceptional how director James Wan and co. handle it. The second the first few keys of “See You Again” start, I can’t help but feel a lump in my throat and get a bit misty-eyed. Furious 7’s issues really mostly lie in how bloated it is and how much it wants to top itself each and every turn. But the dynamic between the cast is my favorite in the bunch, and the action scenes themselves may be my favorite in the franchise, and then there’s just that ending. This is also the film we meet Ramsey, who joins the crew and comes back for Fate of the Furious.

The Fast and the Furious (2001)

Once upon a time, this series was based on a Vibe article about street racing in New York. Although the first installment boils down to a rehash of Point Break set in East Los Angeles, I’m so damned fascinated by the first movie as a time capsule. It came out the summer of 2001 (I remember the trailers blasting Limp Bizkit’s “My Way” with clips of the truck hijacking) and damn if it isn’t the most 2001 (pre-9/11), late ‘90s holdover movie I’ve ever seen. We have raves, frosted hair tips, Ja Rule, the works! In terms of actual strengths, I find this movie the most tightly packed of the bunch, fairly simple, and low stakes in a way I appreciate though it’s not like they planned on them taking on a Russian nuclear submarine then. It’s pretty perfectly paced. In spite of not being a direct antagonist to Brian (who is at this point infiltrating Dom’s crew), Johnny Tran remains one of my favorite characters in this franchise in the short time we get to know him. The first film also has my favorite collection of vehicles in the franchise and I’m a sucker for how the movie ends: Brian hands Dom the keys to his Toyota Supra to make his getaway, Brian walks slowly, and the synth to Ja Rule’s theme song for the film starts. It’s badass in the most 2001 way.

Fast Five (2011)

Fast Five is often a lot of people’s favorite entry of the franchise and for me it’s not hard to understand why. You couldn’t really gauge the fate of the franchise after Tokyo Drift. I mean, I didn’t even catch that movie in theaters and it wasn’t like I was itching for more Fast & Furious when the fourth movie released. Fast & Furious sort of reboots things reuniting the three core characters and laying the groundwork for the series’ future. Fast Five doesn’t just build off the fourth film, it skyrockets into something on its own and achieves that perfect blockbuster formula where we’re not taking it seriously but the movie completely respects you for that. I feel like a lot of the film’s success is owed to Han’s return, and bringing these characters together (and introduces with an astoundingly impressive dynamic, and who doesn’t love a heist? A heist in Brazil, no less! (something something “The Brazillian Job”) We get to watch the plans in motion, the tests, and the execution for probably the most popular third act in the franchise since part one.

It also hits the ground running in an incredible sequence involving a bus and a train. Just like the first film, it’s also near perfectly paced and isn’t bloated like its sequels. Joaquim de Almeida is the villain Reyes in this one, and while Reyes doesn’t feel like a major threat to our heroes, it’s fun watching the crew rip his empire down. In fact, the real antagonist to Dom and the crew is probably the second reason the movie succeeds and became what it is now: Luke Hobbs as played by Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, coming in on a helicopter to rescue your franchise! If not for Furious 7, Fast Five would take the crown for best finale of the series in which you can’t help but smile along with Dom and the crew as they successfully steal Reyes’ safe and play both him AND Hobbs while “Danza Kuduro” plays.

DAMN. I’ve seen EIGHT of these now! Here’s to The Fine and the Furious, or The Fast Nine, or Furious 9, or whatever!

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