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bao3bei4 · 1 year

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ON THE TSHIRT METHOD TO WRITING ESSAYS IN YOUR OWN TIME:

i have had a couple people mention to me that they would like to write essays too, but they are a little out of practice. so i thought i should gather some scattered thoughts into one place. this is not a systematic guide. i am young and inexperienced and still working out things for myself, but this is my basic process and some things that have helped me, summarized.

my biggest single piece of advice is to write with your proverbial pussy. you are not writing for a grade so don't act like it. forget rigor, forget academic style, etc. read what you're interested in, and write following up on the threads that you're interested in. don’t sweat the details. just do you.

if you still need more advice..... here’s a long winded post.

step zero: if you have no clue what you want to say yet

read. and read a lot.

but be realistic. be kind to yourself. your attention is a precious resource, and it is getting eaten up by shit out of your control all the time. if you’ve had a busy day, you may still have the brain power left to read. i almost never do. lol. so make sure to carve out time on a day off, if possible. otherwise you might end up completely fried, reading the same sentence over and over, and ending up scrolling on your phone LMAO. <-- painful lesson also to this end, if you haven’t picked up a denser book in a while, start with shorter articles, especially ones written more recently. if your attention wanders, try getting a physical book instead. the most important thing is just starting things you’ll actually read. i’ve seen a lot of people (and been that person) who was like. “oh i’m going to start with THE canonical text in a subject i’m interested in” which makes sense right? but that book is inevitably long and dense and convoluted and boring. you can come back to it later. this shouldn’t feel like a chore!

genuinely this is the most helpful thing you can do is just. read anything. it may be difficult at first (or always), but it is still the easiest way to engage with the foremost experts from around the world and the entirety of written history on any subject you are interested in. there’s not really a substitute to this.

note: you may say that people can and do come up with brilliant ideas independently of their access to written works. this is true! but if you are one of them, you should skip this section/post, because you already know what you want to say. okay that was a little too facetious. let me revise: when i say that, without reading, it will be hard to come up with more complex ideas than what you have now, that isn’t necessarily pejorative. maybe your current ideas and impulses are original and meaningful and complex. if they aren’t, however, you don’t have to resign yourself to it. your experiences in real life are the most valuable thing you can bring to the table, but it can be very difficult to articulate and contextualize them without community—whether that be irl, or the simple textual company of other writers. you can let other people help you and teach you. basically, this is a long winded way of saying something extremely simple: reading is not the only way to gain knowledge, or even the best. but it is an extremely consistent and relatively egalitarian way.** **scihub and libgen and sometimes the public library are your friends. (my local library’s book coverage is spotty) who cares about piracy. LMAO.

you may surprise yourself by how nicely you fall into little spirals. you read one thing. and you are enamored with the way the author approaches their subject. so you end up reading everything else they’ve written, and then you start on the authors they list that inspire them in their interviews. maybe you just read one article that’s a little dry but it cites something else that seems far more interesting. read that next. and so on.

if you are struggling to read that’s okay. you have options. start a book club (or just get a friend who also wants to read more). if that sounds like too much work, pick a friend to keep updated on all your new facts. you just want to get used to reading something, and telling someone your favorite parts again. skim books. skip the boring parts. drop them entirely and find a more interesting one. no one’s going to quiz you. this is for your own enjoyment.

also important here: read books that make you want to write. sometimes this is because the methods and/or prose of the author are so exciting, you want to do something just like that. sometimes it’s because the content is so exciting, you want to say something about that too. sometimes they speak so powerfully to your own life, you want to tell people this is me!! i see this!! there are books i just enjoy reading, sure, and i do read them. but you know how, like, a good movie makes you want to tell stories too? good theory should do that too, in my opinion.

step one: you have some ideas now.

these ideas don’t have to be set in stone. but you should have an idea now of what you might talk about. personally, for me, i have two interconnected types of essay ideas.

interventions. this is like [tumblr voice] Why Is Nobody Talking About This. i see some sort of hole. maybe i know how to fill it, maybe i don’t.

free associations. basically i read one thing, or some analysis of one thing. and then it reminded me of another thing. and i’m like. i want to tease apart their connections, their similarities, and their differences.

there are more types of ideas, i’m sure. but these are the ones i consistently have. with me, the second kind is more common. very rarely do i find that my thoughts are that original. rather, i’ve found that one of my strengths as a writer is being able to make connections that other people haven’t made, or haven’t made in depth before. IN MY OPINION.

so i find it quite flexible. maybe i watch a movie, and it reminds me of my own life, because i think two women in the movie could be sad queer freaks. and i’m a sad queer freak. or it could be that i think scum villain could be analyzed through the framework of freudian psychoanalysis. you get the idea.

at this stage of the process, i don’t have a thesis, necessarily. but i have a couple phrases i’m drawn to. i have a bullet point or two. i have vibes.

to use an example from this blog, one of my friends hui once mentioned that that one fan image was going around again. we were going ughhh it’s victorian not chinese! together and they said “you should write a meta on it.” i wasn’t sure quite yet what i had to say. but i knew a couple things.

this is, incidentally, because i had done some research into chinoiserie before, because i had cited the zuroski book for a paper i had to write for an english class some years before on pride and prejudice and its use of descriptions of material culture, an essay that in turn was inspired by my random yet deeply felt conviction that jane austen hated me personally and wanted to kill me. this is why i encourage reading a lot. i think.

to work on this stage, make lists. lots of them. i have a .txt file where i keep every essay idea i have. a lot of them are a sentence. or they're lists of books or theorists i think i could make something out of. or they're theses that feel true, but i’m not sure why yet.

it took me a while to get to this point. just like with writing fic, there was a period when i first started where i was like. i only have one idea. i’m going to write it, and then i’m never going to write again. and then i had just one more idea. after a while. eventually you will find you have so many ideas and the world is full of possibilities. it’s a muscle you have to flex. like reading. and telling people about what you’re reading.

actually, i feel like there was a step 0.5 here that i completely skipped.

step zero point five that i skipped: how to generate ideas

my very truly complete “first time writing something semi-academic that was original” (with a loose definition of the word original) was literally just me reading literary criticism of one book, and saying “i think this author’s thoughts can be applied to this other book” and found some textual evidence that supported that the process could be replicated.

this is like, writing with training wheels on. eventually i got better at it (see aforementioned chinoiserie essay. i hope you agree.). but that was a good place to start for me. it made the proverbial blank page less intimidating, knowing i had a scaffolding.

i suggest trying this. see how it goes for you. read around until you find some piece of criticism, or just some theory about how something works, that you like. and using your newfound hammer, go look for some nails.

note: i know this expression is meant to like. be a negative thing. but you do have to start somewhere. it’s okay if it sucks. it’s just for your practice and your enjoyment.

be cautious of stances. weak writing (in my OPINIONNNN) tries to unilaterally defend or condemn a behavior. what you need to do is treat your writing as a bit. and then you need to run with it. you need to take it farther than what is reasonable. if this bit is truly actually deeply true, then what does it mean about yourself? it’s like using a new set of pronouns as a joke or something. you know what i mean? (that was an example of what i’m trying to communicate here)

what else is key to look out for... look for oppositional pairs or tensions. look for perverse incentives and vicious circles. look for embarrassing ideas. that is, what would be extremely embarrassing if it was true? (or to admit that it was true) you may go—tshirt, here you’re just describing things that are sexy. yes, exactly, that’s the point. you want things that thrill.

just keep reading and making notes until everything echoes with something else. now you’re ready for step two.

step two: refine your ideas further.

let me do this by demonstration. once more extending my earlier example of my chinoiserie essay, i knew that i really wanted to take zuroski’s points and basically... steal them. this is called “citation,” i guess. but i thought the following insights were useful to me:

british women were invested in chinese material objects

they incorporated them into their own subjectivity

past a certain point, they no longer “consumed” these signifiers, but these signifers became theirs

critique of one was able to stand in for critique of the other

and from being on fandom twitter, i already had the following insights:

people deliberately blurred the lines between china and england when it came to fans and tea

people also liked talking about victorian modesty when it came to china

so it seemed like victorian england and china had a privileged relationship, in a lot of people’s minds in fandom.

so it didn’t really seem a stretch to say... how can we look at one history, and apply it to our present?

it was a bit of the combo of the two: i saw something i didn’t see people were talking about, and it reminded me of something else i’d read before.

something that helps me a lot is tweeting about my essay ideas. if you have me on my private account, you already know this. it forces me to explain myself to someone who doesn’t know what i’m talking about in a very succinct way. oftentimes, i tweet something out while i’m brainstorming, and then i steal the phrasing back into my essay. see? tweets can be writing too.

this is microdosing on step zero’s “read something and practice telling a friend about it.” now you’re writing something and telling a friend about it.

step three: okay now you can like. open a google doc

make an outline. i know i know i know. i’m sorry. you can start just barfing thoughts if you want, but eventually everything that was on the top of your head will be out. and now you can start thinking about structure. the reason the outline is important is because it makes clear the logical progression from one idea to the next.

i know i usually bounce around in my writing (a tendency which has been magnified here because this is so casual LMAO), but i always want to make sure that my points are substantiated. if we want to talk about how a causes b, we should prove a, we should prove the causal link, and only then can we infer b, for instance. it doesn’t really matter what order that happens in (or even that we set about it that way), but the more complicated your idea is, the longer checklist you need. it’s just a checklist. that’s all.

as you start writing, you’ll probably need to read some more. you’re going to want to say something you think is true, but you’re going to realize that you haven’t proved it (or you can’t). go look to see if someone else has proved it.

maybe you’re right. add that evidence in. maybe you’re wrong. now your essay has a new direction. there is a living thing beneath you. actually, on that idea—

i tend to structure my outlines (if i’m not sure yet what my point is) by pasting a bunch of quotes in a document, and reorganizing them until they make sense, they seem to flow. and then i start explaining why, until i realized i have begun to walk off in a new direction. always embrace that new direction. eventually you will find that you have not been taking twists and turns, but actually you were dizzily walking along a straight path. (unless you have been unfocused and you are trying to say too many things at once. ask a friend to read your essay if you’re not sure which is the case.)

quotes are the smallest unit of your analysis. work with evidence. or, at least, i do. it makes writing an essay like solving a mystery. the idea of just spontaneously generating something new fills me with terror. rather, i want to autopsy something, trace its steps, and then discover how it came to be dead. this may not be true for you. but it’s true for meeeee and this is my post.

tl;dr

0. read something and tell someone about it/post it out

0.5. come up with a bit and run with it

1. think "why is no one talking about this" or start free associating

2. come up with weird connections and tell someone about it/post it out

3. collect all of your posts and ideas into a gdoc and organize them.

anyway i like reading posts like this because i’m incredibly nosy. so i tried to write out the sort of thing i like to read from other people. i don’t suggest you actually try to replicate it (if anyone would even want to.) practically basically i just encourage you to try any single part of this that you think was interesting or relatable or helpful. personally, i suggest reading a book and posting your favorite lines from it. if you do this a couple times, i think you will find the seeds of an essay waiting for you in your own posts.

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the1975attheirverybest · 1 year

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Girlie we need education pt.3 I’m begging 💳💥💳💥💳💥💳💥

Well, you know I can’t say no to you. So, here it is. Lesson #3: Pain is NOT the opposite of Pleasure

Warning: smut

—-

Amelia paused at the restaurant door for a moment trying to find the courage to go in there. Her clammy hands reached for the door handle. She focused her vision on the “pull” sign, trying to stay calm. Ever since the last time that she and Matty slept together, she’d tried her best to avoid him. It wasn’t too difficult. Mostly because he’d been traveling around the country, doing interviews and promoting the band, appearing on radio shows and in magazine articles. So, it didn’t take a lot of effort to not be around him. But he was back now, and she had to see him and be around him all night. She told herself that she didn’t care; that he’d made his feelings quite clear, and that she’s an adult who can handle rejection. He’d drawn his boundary and she has to respect it. But, for some reason that she couldn’t quite articulate, she’d chosen to wear this dress for him. And now that she was about to walk into the restaurant, she felt foolish about it.

She took a deep breath. You can do this. You can do this. You can do this. Just have a good time. The boys are gonna be there. It’s gonna be fine.

She walked in, squeezing through the group of people waiting for a table at the front, and looking around for her people. She spotted George by his tall figure and bright hair. He’d brought Charli along, too. Jamie was there. Dan, Ross and Adam, a couple of people from the label, and, of course, Matty.

“Hey guys” she made a general greeting, everyone at the table turning towards her.

She made a deliberate choice not to look in Matty’s direction. First win of the night. So, she didn’t notice that he’d gotten up from his seat to get her a chair and set it next to his. She sat at the other end of the table, next to George.

Dinner seemed to go smoothly. In fact, for brief moments, whenever she was talking to Adam about his baby, or to Charli about her work, she’d almost forget that she was sitting a few steps away from Matty. Or that she’s supposed to be putting on a nonchalant act. Inevitably, though, she would find herself glancing in his direction every time she heard him speaking, or laughing at something that someone else had said. Or leaning over the table to talk to George. She’d hoped to catch him looking at her, but it never happened. She expected herself to be relieved. Not to have to look into his beautiful brown eyes and fake neutrality. But, a piece of her was always disappointed. She hated that about herself. Whether it was desperation or a desire to hurt him the way that he’d hurt her. She didn’t want to be petty and vindictive. But it was hard not to.

“Right, I think it’s time for me to head out.” Jamie spoke, looking around the table. “You two have to be in the offices early tomorrow.” He nodded at George and Matty. Matty downed the last of his drink, setting his now empty glass down and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Mhm.” He nodded.

“So don’t have too much fun tonight.”

“No fun for me, thank you.” Adam said, bowing out. “Gotta get home soon. Dad stuff.”

“Yeah, none for us either.” George added. “Charli has a thing tomorrow. I gotta finish up at the studio and go with her, so I can’t get shitfaced tonight.”

“Wow…are we saying we’re all going home at a reasonable hour?” Ross laughed. “We’ve really gone and grown up , haven’t we?”

Matty’s face dropped. “It would appear that we have, yeah.” He spoke, a hint of regret in his voice.

“I’ll get the tab, then.” Jamie left his seat.

Matty pulled out his phone, scrolling through his texts to find the thread that led to his last hookup. His finger hovered over the last text. He looked up over the table at Amelia, then back down at his phone.

People had started to leave the table and disperse in different directions. He needed to make up his mind quickly. He watched her stand up and hug George goodbye.

He sprung to his feet to catch up with her. He walked behind her as everyone lined up to leave the restaurant. When George and Charli headed off in their own direction, it was now just the two them. He stepped to the front to stand by her side on the pavement, looking straight ahead at the cars as they drove by. “Hey.” He mumbled.

Her heart raced in her chest and she wondered if he could hear it. Slowly, she turned to look at him. He was, as always, perfect.

His curls fell beautifully around his face, his simple black sweater clung to his body, a charming smile lit up his face. He’d been looking healthy lately. It always warmed her heart.

“So….dinner was fun.” He stated, digging into the pocket of his jeans for his cigarettes. “It was, umm, nice to see everyone. We’ve all been doing our own thing for a bit.” He lit his cigarette. “Want one?”

“Nah. When are you gonna quit that disgusting habit anyway?”

His lips curved into a smile, tilting the cigarette to the side. “Hmm….someday?” He shrugged. “You heading home?” He blew the smoke out of his mouth, obscuring her view of his beautiful face.

“Yeah, guess so. You?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Walk to the station together, then?”

“S-sure.” Just when she thought she’d managed to get through the night without embarrassing herself.

***

“Why’s the train so crowded? Is there some….some political protest or some football game I don’t know about?” She squeezed closer to him to make room for the flood of people getting on behind her.

Matty shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. I’ve been so disconnected from the news, lately.”

“Probably should’ve just got an Uber.” She muttered under her breath, looking behind her at the packed car. No seats whatsoever.

“Wanna just….get off at the next stop?”

“Umm, no, no. It’s fine.” She sighed.

It was decidedly not fine. Every time the train had to pause in the tunnels or come to an abrupt stop, the standing passengers lost balance. Herself included. The first couple of times, Matty steadied her with his firm grip, making sure she doesn’t fall. Then, she clung to his arm a few times, looking up at him and trying not to sweat at the sight of his pink lips so close to her face. Eventually, and she has no idea how, Matty had wrapped his arm around her, holding her close to him as his other hand held on to the metal poll in the center of the car. Keeping them both balanced. She could smell his cologne. The drink he’d had. The cigarette he’d smoked. She could feel his soft sweater against her cheek. She knew he could see her face, which, no doubt, betrayed all her secrets.

Matty’s eyes weren’t on her face, though. He was looking somewhere further down. At the way the cut of the dress highlighted her breasts. Or was it the bra that did it? He didn’t care much for that how. She glanced up at him, catching him looking. “Umm…you, look- nice dress.”

She smiled. Men can be so blind sometimes. “Thanks.”

“Is it new?”

“This? No. Not at all.”

“Well, umm” he felt his mouth go dry. “It’s - n-nice.”

***

“So, umm, that’s my stop coming up.” She loosened her grip on his chest, moving away to get closer to the door.

“Right, yeah. Have a good night, I guess….” Matty’s lips parted again, the look in his eyes felt serious, but as the automatic doors opened, she looked back, and he was silent. Letting her walk out onto the platform.

On the streets, she felt her body shake as she sprinted towards her home. She didn’t think she could take another second in that train, packed like sardines with him so close to her. Looking, smelling, and sounding so good.

Over the echo of her own footsteps, she could still hear his voice faintly in her ear. The way he’d smile when she would turn to look at him. The way he’d say her name…

“Amelia!! Yo! Waiiiit! Amelia! For fucks sakesss!!”

She turned around. She wasn’t imagining things. In the distance, she saw Matty running towards her.

“Finally! Is this how you normally walk or are you in hurry for something?”

“W-what are you…” she looked down at her waist to check that her purse was still attached to her. Has she forgotten something? Her phone maybe?

“I- umm, it’s late. You shouldn’t be walking home alone in the dark.”

She frowned. “Since when are you….such a gentleman?”

“It’s not about bein’ a gentleman. It’s purely about safety. Have you read the statistics lately?” He was feeling his confidence act begin to crumble, so he looked ahead, beginning to walk again.

“No, have you?”

“A man can’t walk his friend to her door safely without an interrogation now? What a sad world we live in.”

She giggled, shaking her head. “Well, thanks, Matty.”

They walked in silence for a while. Each of them desperately trying to think of something to say to the other without making things more awkward than the silence.

“So,” she spoke, smiling playfully. “Would you, like, fight off gangs for me? Robbers? Do you have a ninja knife or something hidden in your back pocket?” She laughed.

“Fuck off.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll have you know, I’m very strong now!” He flexed his arm, pretending to show off. Or maybe a small piece of him wanted to show off.

“Yeah, I- I’ve noticed.” She cursed herself in her head as soon as the words slipped her lips. She was losing the upper hand her. God. She hated those kind-games. Those conversations they’re having in order to say what they can’t say. What they won’t say. Trying to communicate without actually communicating. She found that shit exhausting. She was never any good at acting cool and collected. And in this case, she didn’t want to be. She wishes she could just…talk to him.

“You’ve noticed, huh?” Matty raised an eyebrow, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, got over yourself, Matty.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, like, I noticed in the way that…you know- people notice. If your friend gets a haircut or loses or gains weight or whatever. People notice, okay!” Nope. She’d overdone it. By, like, a lot.

Matty watched her face contort itself in embarrassment, laughing softly.

“Shut up.”

“What? I haven’t said anything.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Whatever you say, Amelia.”

***

“You wanna come inside?” She turned to face him, fumbling with her keys.

“I mean, sure, if- you’d like me to. If it’s not too late.”

“I believe the conduct manuals say that when a gentleman risks his life to walk a lady home, etiquette dictates that she must offer him a nightcap.”

“Well…if that’s what the manuals say… wouldn’t mind a glass of wine, actually.

***

“How’re you doing with- uhh- our lessons.” He felt sleazy just saying it.

She set her glass down to avoid looking surprised by his question. “W-what do you mean- I- what?”

“I mean have you been practicing? Sucked anyone off yet?”

“What the fuck is that matter with you!” She shoved his arm lightly, mentally noticing that, he has, indeed, grown some muscles.

“What?” He giggled. “Just inquiring about your progress.”

“No, I haven’t. Yet.” She folded her legs, sinking back into the couch. “Have…you?”

“Haven’t had the time. But I’m free tonight….if you wanna brush up on some stuff.”

“I see. So the gentleman act has ended. Alright.”

***

In the dim light of her bedroom, she stood by the foot of the bed, with Matty towering over her.

For the second time tonight, she found herself unable to take her eyes off his lips. “Friends don’t kiss, friends don’t kiss, friends don’t kiss…” she repeated the mantra over and over in her head until Matty’s head dipped down and he kissed her, crashing his lips against hers with just a little bit of force, his hands holding onto her hips.

When he pulled away, her hand reflexively flew to her lips, as if grabbing at the lingering feeling of his mouth. She was utterly speechless.

Matty stepped away for a moment, taking off his sweater.

She mumbled a curse when she saw his shirtless chest.

“Pardon?” He turned to look at her and smiled knowingly when he saw her eyes wide open.

In the back of her mind, she wondered if she’s ever seen him naked before, or if she’d simply never noticed that he was this attractive.

“Oi! Eyes are up here.” He joked.

She was too overwhelmed to think of a clever comeback. His silence alarmed him.

“Hey, Mia, you alright?” His thumb and index finger touched her cheek.

“If you’ve had a change of heart, we don’t have to.”

“It’s umm, it’s been years since you’ve called me ‘Mia.’” She whispered.

“Has it?”

What did it mean? Why did he suddenly bring that nickname back? Was he trying to tell her something? Does he genuinely not remember? “No, I’m fine. I wanna do this.”

“You sure?” He tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Y-yeah. Umm. Yeah I’m positive.”

“Alright, then. May I undress you now?” He looked into her eyes, smiling.

“I - can-“ her hand grabbed searched behind her back for a zipper.

“No, no. Please. Let me.” He walked around in a semi circle to stand behind her. “This gorgeous dress? want to peel it off your body myself.”

She felt her cheeks burn up. Perhaps this dress was the right idea after all.

Matty gently pushed her hair to one side of her neck to find her zipper, causing her skin to prickle with goosebumps. His lips kissed the bottom of her neck where it meets her shoulder softly. Her eyes fluttered shut. Her breath getting caught in her throat.

But the kiss ended a bit too quickly for her liking, she heard the zipper travel down her body and felt the dress loosen around her, dropping in a pool at her ankles.

Matty bent down to pick it up. “Step out for me…good girl.”

Shit. They’d barely done anything yet and she was already desperate for him.

With the backs of her knees against the bed, Matty dropped to his knees running a finger over her clothed crotch and making her gasp.

“Matty-“

“Let me start by reminding you of the last thing we did.” She saw a faint smile on his lips before her eyes closed and she melted at his touch again.

“Already wet?” He clicked his tongue. “Needy, baby.”

She let the slightly embarrassment wash over her. Driven away by the waves of pleasure that his expert fingers were giving her.

“Right. Take these off for me.” He tapped her hip, snapping out of the blur she’d fallen into.

She did as he said, eager to get his hands back on her as quickly as possible.

Silently, Matty took both her wrists, placing her hands on each of his shoulders. “Hold on tight, yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Almost moaning.

His lips wasted no time finding her center. She almost yelped at the feeling of his tongue licking into her. She felt his hot breath against her as he let out a small giggle at her reaction. This wasn’t just fun for her. He was taking delight in the way he made her feel.

“Matty- oh! My god…”

It seemed he’d already memorized all the perfect motions and spots that got her going from last time. It was like he knew exactly what to do and when to do it.

“Fuck! Matty- I’m- ah, if you don’t- s-stop, I’m gonna-“ without thinking, or intending to, her hands found his hair, pulling harshly and moving his mouth away from her.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to. Umm… are you okay?”

Matty laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”

“No it’s not, I practically took off a chunk of your gorgeous hair. It must’ve hurt!”

“Yeah, but, I liked it.”

“You…did?”

“Yeah, yeah. Pain and pleasure….mix well sometimes.”

He could see by the confusion in her eyes that she’d never felt that particular mixture. “You’ll see.” He winked.

Was that a threat? A dare? A preview of things to come?

He placed a small kiss to her wet cunt, to give her a little tingle, causing her to lose balance and lean on the bed behind her.

Matty crawled into the bed, hovering on top of her. “See, that’s why I said to hold tight.”

“S-sorry.” She whispered, feeling small as she looked into his eyes above her, his curls dangling and creating a bit of shade over both of them.

“It’s alright. Kinda ready myself. If…you are? Wanna keep going?”

“Mhm…condom?”

He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling his wallet out. “Got it.”

As she watched him unbuckle his jeans. the thought that they were about to have sex kept running through her head. She waiting for it to be weird. To be surreal. For her brain to remind her that Matty’s her friend. Friends have no business getting this intimate. But none of that came to mind. All that she was thinking about is how good he’d finally feel inside her.”

“You good?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She looked into his eyes. “You?”

He smiled. “I’m really great, baby.”

She felt him get closer, then slowly push into her. Her eyes closed reflexively and she held her breath. Matty noticed her whole body stiffen. His own mind struggling to remain focused at the feeling of her around him. “Umm, no, Amelia. Open your eyes for me, please?”

It took her a second to muster the courage, but she did. “That’s better. I promise you, it’s gonna feel so much more pleasurable if you relax, yeah?”

“S-sorry, I-“

“You nervous or something? It’s okay. Trust me. Breathe. Yeah. That’s it. You’re doing so well.”

She hasn’t really thought about to before. That she tended to clam up when a guy thrusted into her. Maybe it was the anticipation. Or the nerves. She just did it without thinking.

Matty pushed the rest of the way into her and let out a moan that surprised her. She’d have thought he was the quiet type.

“Fuck- y’feel so good, Mia.”

His overwhelmed face suddenly disappeared, he looked down at her. “Felt that. Praise girl, huh? Noted.” He laughed.

“Shit!” She felt the knot in her stomach tight as he pushed particularly deep. “Fuck, Matty, I- you’re so- feels good.” He smiled, his own mind hazy with pleasure. “Right, ready to take it up a notch?”

He rested his weight on his forearms, settling into a rhythm with his hips. Leaving her a moaning mess underneath him. Chanting his name, begging for nothing in particular, letting him know how good she feels.

“Cum with me, yeah?”

She nodded, lifting her head off the bed to kiss him.

Matty waited carefully, at what he hoped was just the right moment, he dipped down and lightly bit her shoulder as she unraveled around him causing another wave to hit her, her body trembling around him as her mouth hung open.

She swore she almost blacked out for a second. With Matty placing small kisses all over her neck and body as she came down from the aftershocks.

Slowly, he collapsed on top of her. His thumb reaching for the bite mark on her shoulder and rubbing it soothingly. “See? Told you. Pain isn’t the opposite of pleasure.”

Her blurry eyes fixed on the ceiling, her chest still panting, she ran her fingers through his hair. “Guess not.”

Matty took a deep breath, rolling off of her. “Ready for round two?”

#matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x oc #matty healy fic #matty healy oneshot #matty healy smut #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x you

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wangxianficfinder · 1 year

Text

Fic Finder

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1. Hi there was a fic where wy gets his old body back.

Juniors (sizhui and jingyi i think) finds lwj and wy(in his old body, not mxy body) being lovey dovey, and thinks lwj is cheating on wy.

Then jiang cheng comes and shouts "wei wuxian" and the juniors look n see a stranger (old body wy)

In the end the misunderstandings clear up.

Help me find this please?

#1 on the latest fic finder, thanks but 'saw my life in a stranger's face' is not the fic i was looking for. The fic I'm looking for is lighthearted and funny. It also has the juniors' POV

(I feel like I've read this, did JC show up after the misunderstanding is cleared up because JL wrote him a letter as a back up plan and didn't have time to send another? - Mod C)

NOT FOUND! Saw My Life in a Stranger's Face by timetoboldlygo (T, 27k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Married Life, Domestic Fluff, Light Angst, wwx's face changes post-canon to look like his original face, Slight Panic Attack, because lwj doesn't recognize his husband, the mortifying ordeal of not knowing your own body, the terrifying inevitability of change, taller!wwx theory)

FOUND! voyeurs make the worst spies by BeStillMySlashyHeart (T, 1k, WangXian, POV Outsider, Reunions, Body Swap, does not contain cheating just the perception of it) (this wasn't the fic I was originally thinking of but I think it might fit better? - Mod C)

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2. Hi I'm looking for a fic where it's modern au setting. I think it's lan zhan's birthday and wei ying tries to bake him a cake but it's a disaster. So lan zhan helps him and it's like some hot hands on baking lesson with extra whipped cream?!

I saw a post about it on Tumblr and now I've lost it! It was sweet and sexy and damn I wish I had it saved.

FOUND! A Piece Of Cake by NinjaKK (M, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Married Couple, Married Life, Traditions, LWJ's BirthdayBad Cooking, Baking, Birthday Cake, Cooking Lessons, Soft WangXian, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Birthday Party, Suffering LQR, LQR Is So Done, Whipped Cream, Fluff, Established Relationship, Attempt at Humor)

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3. Hello I'm looking for a fic: I think it was a thread fic for Dark LZ Weekend. It had postcanon WY waking up to a dark LZ who'd travelled from a parallel universe (I think). He traps the real LZ in his original timeline, and tries to take over his life. WY ofc realises immediately but doesn't want to hurt him because it is revealed that the dark Lan Zhan has time travelled from the 13 year period of WY's death. He had just been punished with the whip strikes and the grief of losing WY had turned him desperate.

Your blog is simply amazing btw. Thank You for all the effort 🥺 @shenmiao98

FOUND? This Twitter thread by sweetlolixo

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4. hi! this is for the next fic finder! wwx lives in a cottage by himself and lwj moves next door! at first lwj is upset because he moved there to be alone! they plant and go get water together. sometimes lwj drives into the city but wwx always stays on the cottage. theres this cat that was abandoned and wwx adopted them. lwj moved to the cottage because lxc was kidnapped once and lwj never recovered from that. wwx was in a car acident with jyl and things happened and he moved to live by himself

FOUND? tessellate by mellowflicker (T, 18k, wangxian, modern, cottagecorem hurt/comfort, domesticity, touch-starved, happy ending)

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5. Hey, I’m not sure if this is correct but I’ve been googling and trying to find this fic I once read with all kinds of tag combinations on AO3 so hopefully you’ll be willing to help me. I’m looking for this fic where something with Wei Wuxian’s summoning goes wrong (and maybe it happens a bit earlier?) and he goes to his brother like “help I’m (re)dying” and they decide that while figuring it out disguising him as a woman (and accidentally making everyone think they’re betrothed) is the best plan of action.

FOUND? ❤️ By Any Other Name by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 31k, Wangxian, Canon Divergence, Crossdressing, Misunderstandings, Identity Porn, Identity reveal, [PODFIC] By Any Other Name by sakizar)

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6. Looking for a fic here! I honestly can't remember much but there was one scene where wwx was outside a banquet hall with the juniors and he was teaching them how to dance and then lwj swoops in and they dance together, I remember it having art too! Sorry if it's not much to go on but that particular scene really cemented itself in my mind and I can't find it anymore T.T Thank you so much!

FOUND! plant a little happiness (let the roots run deep) by fleurdeliser (E, 47k, WangXian, Modern AU, Car Accidents, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Non-Explicit References to Injuries and Death, References to Addiction, Doctors & Physicians, these tags imply a much more serious story, than this actually is, Falling In Love, soft romance, background 3zun)

not FOUND Unstrictly Ballroom by Ariaste (T, 47k, WangXian, SongXiao, Modern AU, Everyone's alive, the gang defeats systemic heteronormativity, Stripper AU, competitive ballroom dance AU, really stupid misunderstandings, Yearning, Mutual Pining, the wrist grab, lwj makes a friend (who isn't wwx!), modern au but it's still set in Fantasy China (Gusu/Yiling/Lanling) rather than Real China, LWJ's pov, Erotic Handholding)

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7. Hello!! I've been trying to find a fanfic I want to read again for quite some time now, but still couldn't find it. It's a time travel fanfic in which Lwj time travels to the past. I don't remember many details, but I remember that Lwj tells him everything about the future, and at the end Wwx goes to Bssr' mountain (he was supposed to go with Lwj, but sneaked out and went alone) to destroy the stygian tiger amulet. He comes back years latter, and at the time there was a banquet being hosted by the Jiang, and Mxy was there. He sees Lwj interact with Mxy and thinks that, by going away, he lost his chance with Lwj and that Lwj rather stay with Mxy, since Mxy's body was the one Wwx was with when they married on the erased time-line. I fainty remember something about Wwx falling inside a pond after that and Lwj fishing him out.

FOUND? You, me, us. It's not a dream by vermilliondust (M, 37k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Incense Burner, Anxious LWJ, Protective LXC, Protective JYL, Hurt/Comfort, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Bottom LWJ, mostly, Crying During Sex, bed sharing, Cuddling & Snuggling)

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8. hi, so im looking for a post canon fic where out in the middle of no where wwx hears a baby animal crying (i think from an abandoned building) and goes to help it, and only after cleaning it up realizes it's an itty bitty puppy (like almost new born?) and he FREAKS. but it's also helpless and he doesn't want to leave it to die. thus ensues him trying to raise puppy without touching puppy. it later becomes only good dog. and he has angst over parallels to his childhood & no wanting to b like yzy

FOUND? Imprints by Lisa_Telramor (G, 47k, wangxian, post-canon, humor, panic attacks, phobia recovery, poor life choices, JC & WWX reconciliation, dogs)

FOUND? Rabbit Heart by Suaine (M, 56k, WangXian, Family Issues, Sexual Content)

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9. Hello I’m looking for a fic I read and can’t find, it started something like, wei ying is drink wine looking out the second story window of the shop/inn and watching the people when he see a Lan walking by and when he get closer he realizes it’s Lan zhan. I don’t remember how but LWJ ends up in the room with him and WXX drunkenly accidentally tells about his core/burial mounds(I think it’s both ) Lan zhan tells him he will help him, that he loves him, and holds him while WXX breaks down crying

FOUND? Talking is Better than Silence by KuroiWrites (blackcatkuroi) (T, 264k, WangXian, Communication, Fluff and Angst, What-If, Canon Divergence, Resentful Energy is a Thing, Musical Cultivation gets Center Stage, Honesty, Myth Making in Action, Soulmates, Cultivation Healing is Expanded)

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10. Hello, i'm trying to find a fic where mdzs characters is famous people in modern era. Lwj, who is drunk, tweet something that implies he likes someone for years. His fans then trying to find who is the person that Lwj love. The candidate is Nhs, Wwx, and Wn. Nhs, who is a shit stirrer, drop some hint. Wwx believe the person that Lwj loves is Nhs. Yhere is a talk between Nhs and Wwx a day before Lwj and Wwx date. I think there was a wedding at the end of the story? I'm not sure about that part. Thank you!!! (Can't remember the name but I remember the tweet started with something like "some of you haven't -something something- and it shows" right? - Mod C)

FOUND! Some of You by tangerinechar (M, 60k, wangxian, modern, social media, actor au, pining, fluff, love confessions, matchmaking, light angst)

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11. Hii!! I'm looking for a fic where lan Wangji time travels to future or some modern universe where wei Ying has been...?! There is a dialogue lwj used like...."where am I " Yeah I don't know the full summary of the fic please find the fic for me !!!!! @certainsoulcoffee

FOUND? take me back to a time by DizziDreams (T, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Modern with Magic, Time Travel, Sharing a Bed, Fish out of Water, Man Out of Time, Angst with a Happy Ending, Student!WWX, Time-Traveling Wizard!LWJ, Slow Burn, reference to abuse, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Abuse, Canon!LWJ, Mutual Pining, Chronic Illness, Not A Fix-It, Transmigration, America)

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12. Hi, I was looking for a Wangxian fic to reread on AO3, but I can´t find it anymore. It´s about Wei Wuxian trying to attend a celebration at Koi Tower (probably Jin Ling´s One Month celebration) and dressing up as a Lady to do it. He uses the name Ying, Yingying or Ning. On the way in he meets Lan Wangji who agrees to help and pretends Wei Wuxian is his wheelchair-bound wife. The Jiang siblings are there too (obviously). It´s not in your great pretenders list (although it would fit)... If you could help me find it again I would be very gratefull.

FOUND! My Leaves Reach Ever for the Sun by nonplussed (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fix-It, Crossdressing, Idiots in Love, Sharing a Bed, Happy Ending, Mutual Pining)

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13. Hi! ❤️ I’m looking for a fic where Lan Zhan is in seclusion in the CR. Wei Ying visits periodically but always leaves. Lan Zhan slowly turns all the bodies of his clan into puppets. Wei Ying comes back and runs into Lan Zhan’s puppet mother and wants to leave again. Lan Zhans mom tells him about it and he turns Wei Ying into a puppet. The fic ends with JC coming looking for Wei Ying but Lan Zhan doesn’t let him in. Thank you so much!! It’s a great fic but I just can’t find it again.

FOUND? this twisted blood red thread of fate by HeavenlySkyfarer (E, 11k, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, obsession, unhealthy relationships, body horror, dark LWJ, dollification, marionettes, musical cultivation, DL:DR)

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14. Hey can you find a fic were wei wuxian finds himself in a modern cultivation world and meets lan zhan grandson. Said grandson goes on to rant about his grandpa being with a twink on the internt. Thanks!

FOUND? YEYE NONCONNED A TWINK?!?!?! (How Lan Wangji's Vent Account Became Twitter Famous) by Pancho (M, 7k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, post-first siege of burial mounds, violence, blood, dub con, implied/referenced character death, crack treated seriously, PTSD, happy ending)

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15. Hello! I am looking for the wangxian fic where Jin Ling wants to formally court Lan Sizhui. He asks wei wuxian and then asks for his help to talk to lan zhan. I know I’m the fic wei wuxian wears gusu robes during a conference and acts like the best version of a lan wife. Thank you in advance!!

Hi! I am number 15 on today’s list. The Fic listed wasn’t the fic I was looking for, but I really enjoyed reading it.

NOT FOUND! A Civil Combpaign by Ariaste (T, 19k, JL/LSZ, wangxian, arranged marriage, courting, teenage drama, humor)

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16. hello! i can't stop thinking about these (a bit vague) scenes from wangxian fics. could you help me find a fic where A) wei ying falls asleep as he waits for lan zhan outside the jingshi. i think it specified that he fell asleep on the porch? B) a fic where wei ying stays in the jingshi to recover his wounds, lan zhan braids his hair. lan xichen visits and cautions lan zhan or wei ying to be careful of his brother's heart. i am not sure if these scenes are found in the same fic. thank you!

16A)

FOUND? Far Away You Are by cqlorphan (E, 17k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Misunderstandings, cleared up by juniors ensemble, Explicit Consent, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, but i'm sure they switch about it, Multiple Orgasms, Fluff and Smut, with a little angst. as a treat) happens at the end of chapter 2

16B)

FOUND! This Tornado Loves You by etymologyplayground (T, 8k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposal, Canon Divergence, Family, Humor) sounds like, although it's hair brushing, not braiding. i think 16(1) is a different fic that i've read but i can't find it. if it helps, i think in that one sizhui is the one to wake wwx up bc wwx notices someone standing over him?

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17. Hi! I’m hoping someone can help me find a fic I read on AO3. At some point in it, Wei Wuxian is ambushed on the way to Jin Ling’s first month celebration but he has A-Yuan with him. He tosses A-Yuan in the air and he’s engulfed in a cloud of resentful energy which transports him to safety. He ends up in Koi Tower falling into Lan Xichen’s arms and tells everyone what’s going on… @animeobbsessed

FOUND? Even If It Breaks Time by WhiteSoul (T, 178k, wangxian, LXC/JC, angst w/ happy ending, time travel fix-it, reconciliation, hurt WWX, OP WWX, fighting against time, blood & injury)

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18. Hiii i need help in finding a fanfic

So i remeber that the fic starts with the author telling us that wei ying and lan zhan are happy after everything that happened and wei ying is trying to cultivate his golden core but wei yings core is not strong enough so that he can cultivate to imortality. Lan zhan decides that he does not want to live eternaly and he ages with wei ying. Lan zhan is sharing his spiritual energy with wei ying and this way he ie sustaining the both of them until he finally runs out of it and one day they lay in bed and they die together in the jingshi. Next thing you know they wake up in the past and i think this fic is a time travel fix it or just a time travel one i cant remeber anything else. I know i read it on AO3. Please help. @dacika98

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19. I'm looking for a modern au where Xichen finds Wei Wuxian sleeping on top of Wangji because Madame Yu kicked him out. I think that Wei Ying moves in with them. Yanli was called at one point. Thank you so much. @jezabelisnotawhore

FOUND? Found Family by fyredancer (T, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Getting Together, POV Outsider, Dysfunctional Family, Coming Out, Bad Parenting, Protective Older Brothers, Protective Siblings)

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20. hello! can this be in the next fic finder? lwj is a college professor know to be cold and very sexy. I think we and wwx are T.A.s from another department. wwx and lwj met online and have a lot of sex online too, but they don't know each others identity! but lwj finds out when wwx goes to lwjs department to print some documents @yourefinallysafefromshialabeouf

FOUND? Take All of Me by Anna-domini (Memoryboard) (E, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern: No Powers, Porn With Plot, Identity Reveal, Sexting, Phone Sex, Nude Photos, Dirty Talking LWJ, mentioned and vaguely implied WWX/others and LWJ/others, Praise Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Butt Plugs, Getting Together, Fluff and Smut, Exhibitionism, Professors, Anal Sex, Online Relationship, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Multiple Orgasms)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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luthienne · 1 year

Note

hey lovely hi! I wanted to ask you something about writing. First of all i love love love the way you write matt and Frank! So on point and detailed and so well observed. I wanted to know how do you understand them i mean what are your ways to study a character?

I hope I'm making sense and im sorry for being a bother 😭 love you.

hi first of all i love you sm for this oh my god?? you're not a bother at all, i could talk about matt forever. writing him true to character is the highest compliment i could ask for 🥹

several thoughts come to mind — first i think of the characters as they are individually, then as they are tied to one another; once tied together through the threads of the story, there is no separating them. just as there is no separating the choices they make now from all the choices in the past that led up to this moment. where do the boundaries of the character as laid out in the source material brush up against the boundaries of the character as i understand them & what archetypal role are they fulfilling (if relevant).

also the mutability of the boundary between archetypes: i.e. matt descends into 'hell' to bring frank out, orpheus role; matt hears & carries everything, god-like role; matt accepts this as a call to action, hero; matt takes it upon himself to punish these 'evildoers', devil; matt takes these sins upon himself, christ figure; matt is wounded in his noble pursuit, martyr figure. & how do his roles change in relation to the characters he shares a scene with — fisk (god-like in seemingly limitless influence) / matt (hero/martyr).

what life is there for a hero outside of their duty in a story like this? what room is there for him to be human? that's what i want to know. so i take what we know from what we've been given:

matt is the son of a boxer -> he grows up with the inherent understanding that two things can be true at once: hands capable of love can also be capable of violence

matt, as a child, saves an old man and loses his sight -> he accepts at a very young age the concept of heroic acts & their consequences (inevitability)

matt’s father chooses to die a 'hero' rather than live as a flawed but present father -> better to be a hero, to live and die by those familiar consequences than to be a flawed but present person (2nd ex. of heroes and their consequences, inevitability)

matt’s next father figure is violent but it is through that violence he learns to navigate an overwhelming world -> violence = love

stick leaves, like his father left, like his mother left -> to love is to lose (inevitability)

matt is only human, after all, it's what's most compelling about him as a character. and the show really did let us sit in those long moments of quiet witness to matt's undeniable humanity. he is flawed, he stumbles in fights, he can’t catch his breath, his faith buckles under the weight of his grief; he doesn't understand how to be human, how to maintain relationships, how to reconcile the darkest parts of the world and of himself with his faith in humanity and belief in redemption. the world is overwhelming to him on every sensory level. every touch is a modified blow? he lives that. he looks outside of himself for light (foggy, faith). when he reaches his breaking point, he breaks rather than turn to the people he loves because of the lessons he internalized as a child. stick left because matt loved, despite everything. despite everything, his love > his rage (bc his rage is his grief & his grief is another face of his love).

even after foggy finds out matt's secret life of physical violence, he still refers to him as "my soft-hearted partner" because it's true, matt cannot help but love & recognize humanity in others. it's because of this that he feels called to balance two unsustainably contradictory lives: using his voice to fight for redemption in court; taking it into his own hands when the law fails. taking their blood onto himself, by himself.

and that is the only touch he allows himself to experience—violence. blood on his knuckles, in his mouth, in his throat. and when his body is torn open and his secrets bared through his wounds, we get another glimpse into the reality of heroes and their consequences. foggy is not treated as an audience stand-in to giddily marvel at matt's abilities and how cool they are, he's heartbroken. he’s fucking devastated. his best friend is bleeding out on his apartment floor. he doesn't want matt to die. he doesn't want matt to be daredevil, he doesn’t want matt to be a hero — because foggy, more than anyone, understands matt's humanity and mortality. and foggy, more than anyone, selfishly wants matt to be his friend first. let hell’s kitchen take care of itself. why should matt die for a community that doesn’t love him like foggy loves him? that doesn’t know him like foggy knows him? he knew matt before he became a story. their time at columbia grounds their friendship & grounds matt to a life that is as close to normal as any comicbook story. they stay up late studying, they drink a little too much, they live together and achieve a kind of domesticity that comes easy to foggy but utterly incomprehensible to everything matt knew before foggy. we see a glimpse at a life with foggy that represents a gentle kind of safety and happiness — everything matt has been denied in his life until then. everything that the momentum of the story demands matt cannot keep (as hero).

and then there's frank. composed of rigid codes and immovable beliefs, just as much as matt, but on the other side of the line matt has drawn in the sand. that line represents matt’s faith in humanity and belief in redemption. despite living the worst of it, despite bearing the brunt of it. matt can't lose frank because matt never had frank; and yet matt and frank hold an inherent understanding of one another that no one else can. two sides of the same coin: unwavering & fatal sense of duty that walks them in a winding but inevitable line toward their respective fates; acceptance of the roles life has given them in what life has taken from them. it's not that they want to die, it's just that they’ve lived so long in the depths of their own private grief that they can’t see living outside of them.

so of course foggy doesn't want to matt to be a hero because there is no story where the hero comes home unscathed, there is no story where the hero is not brought to his knees. to love matt is to accept he could lose matt. either through death or through his inevitable transformation into something foggy may not recognize.

(now matt's unwritten rules by which he lives are bleeding into other characters' lives, consequences spiraling outward & outward)

a perilous thing began with wanting to explore this idea: a story that revolves around the moment when the hero is brought to their knees (figuratively & literally) that marks the separation of who they were before and who they must become after (transformation), if there is to be an after -> internal vs external consequences; forced passivity; how does the hero come back from that & who is he if/when he comes back from that. is he recognizable? i also wanted to look at the hero & the story through someone else's eyes, someone who could be more objective than me, more objective than foggy (whose love for matt clouds his observations, as it did in light perception). and who could objectively understand matt's actions & motivations better than frank? the anti-hero and matt's foil.

so i first look at the character through the lens of the story that’s been told and then the story i want to tell, i look at him through the lens of other characters and i assemble a picture from there. i look at matt through the events of his life, through his relationship with violence & his relationship with his very mortal body. unlike other superheroes he is not invincible, he is not bulletproof, he is not capable of flying, or softening a long fall; he is not capable of throwing his adversaries across a room, he is barely capable of saving himself from his own self-destructive choices. he has a damaged & unbearably human body. everything he can do he has fought tooth and nail for. he doesn't have superpowers like telekinesis or lasers that come out of his eyes; he has loss, he has grief, he has rage. we can all relate to that. he has a voice that is capable of giving a second chance to others (in court) but he lives and dies a thousand deaths inside of the silence at his core he can't find his way out of. his inability to communicate his grief or desires in a bearable way.

perhaps he finds redemption through saving others because he doesn't believe he, himself, is otherwise worthy of redemption. if he did, he would relinquish his duty as hero, he would live a quiet & happy life of domesticity with foggy. perhaps in another world he does. he lays down his mantle, or he lives in a world where he never had to take it up. he's just matt, foggy's soft-hearted partner.

#ask #anon #daredevil #mm #also lately i've been thinking about the parallels between foggy & matt w judas & jesus. as one does #i have so many more thoughts but this has already gotten so long. but matt finds meaning in being wounded torn apart etc #try try your whole life / to be righteous and be good / wind up on your own floor / choking on blood !!!! the mountain goats get it

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leonsliga · 3 months

Note

https://twitter.com/BayernNewsw/status/1762100914259648872?t=UVN8cg2KCTKBeOaVs0qNMQ&s=19 what do you think of this?❤

Hey anon! Thanks for sending me this ❤️ if I’m honest, I’m generally distrustful of bild as a news outlet. Even though they’re not always that way, they’ve just got this tabloid vibe that I find tough to swallow. Their articles always feel crafted in such a way as to pit fans and footballers against one another, and I don’t think that’s always fair.

That said, they did provide photographic evidence of them partying (supposedly). The guy in the first pic in the thread looks like Leon, but I’m not entirely sure. I couldn’t quite locate Phonzy in the pic either, but that’s not to say neither of them were there. I’ll be curious to see if other news outlets apart from bild report on it (as far as I can tell, they’re the only ones who have); maybe then we’ll get a bit more information and insight.

Now let’s talk about the party itself. Should they have gone? Probably not. Should they have stayed out that late, knowing they had training later that day? Definitely not. I understand wanting to blow off some steam (and wanting to meet up with the legendary David ‘Alaboom’ Alaba lol), but the problem with being in the public eye is that someone will inevitably find out you’re doing it. Bild’s business is quite literally finding out other people’s business, and if you want to have a party or go to one, they’ll be the first to know about it. Hell, they’ll probably invite themselves to it in some facet. Such are the perils of being in the public eye, I suppose.

I think I can understand why they went though. They were probably still buzzing off the adrenaline of their victory and wanted to celebrate. Couple that with the prospect of a reunion with an old teammate, and bam! You’ve got reason enough to party. Not only that, but Leon, Phonzy, and Serge are under scrutiny at Bayern, and maybe they thought they could escape the pressure for just one night. Besides, let’s think of football like a normal job. When you’re off the clock, that’s your time, and you can spend it how you like. Should football really be any different? Should bild or other news outlets really have the right to judge how they spend their time off? I guess the tricky thing is when you look at this event through the eyes of disgruntled Bayern fans. And that leads me to my next point:

Can I understand fan anger towards this? Of course I can. It was right after a match, and the way we’ve been playing this season doesn’t exactly scream “party time.” Far from it actually. But truth be told, if the rumors are true and they stayed out as late and partied as hard as bild seems to imply they did, the coaching staff will probably punish them accordingly; besides, if this is all true and not exaggerated in the slightest (because let’s face it, we can’t rule out bild exaggerating some details), TT actually has a chance to do something right for once and score some easy points with Bayern fans on his way out the door 😂

Quite honestly though, I’m sure showing up to training massively sleep-deprived and possibly hungover is quite the punishment in itself 😅 if they’re old enough to make their own choices, then they’re old enough to know the consequences of them ahead of time. Leon, Phonzy, and Serge aren’t the first to go out and party after a match, nor will they be the last, but that doesn’t mean it’s wise, but they’re still relatively young, and I’m guessing suffering through training while wishing for death that morning was lesson enough lmao. It would be for me anyway 😵

Now that I’ve said my piece though, I’d love to hear from you all. I know I’m biased when it comes to Leon and our Bayern squad as a whole, so I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on the matter. Do you feel the same way about it as me? Do you have a different take? Or is there something you noticed that I might’ve missed? I welcome any and all opinions—just please be respectful 🫶

#anon 💖#quite a few of you sent me an ask with this twt thread in it…so if it’s ok I’ll probs just answer it here #and then answer any subsequent asks based on my response here/the article anon posted #I also go into more detail on my thoughts in the comments #leon goretzka #my asks

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sam-glade · 10 months

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Shopping Trip

Exactly a month ago @writernopal reminded me of its existence here. Well, it needed a full rewrite, because my style's changed so much, but here it is. 100% saccharine fluff, you have been warned. Literally, just fluff.

Context: In the middle of book 2 of Days of Dusk, Lissan gets 'adopted' into a noble house due to Anthea's machinations. Neither of them is happy about it, but they both agree it was a reasonable choice. Ianim takes this opportunity to get Lissan an outfit befitting a young nobleman. WC: 1660 CW: -

Days of Dusk taglist (please message me to +/-): @acertainmoshke @another-white-hole @iced-ginger-tea @poetinprose

Lissan admitted to himself – and later to Ianim, too – that he reacted badly to the suggestion. And so, the next time they were supposed to meet up with the rest of the guys in a pub, he arrived early. As predicted, Ianim was already there, nursing a light beer and watching the patrons from a corner table for six. He accepted Lissan's apologies, and yes, he was delighted to take Lissan to a tailor and offer advice.

And pay for it. This was the part Lissan had been most opposed to initially. It took Ianim assuring him that the costs were going to be covered by the First Prince's personal wealth, not the state treasury, for Lissan to get over it – after all, it was Anthea who wanted him in this role, and taking her up on the offer had a certain appeal.

"Oh, stop fretting," Ianim said in response to his second concern, amusement tinting his tone. "I promise, no silks, no metallic threads, nothing like that."

"Nothing that would make me stand out," Lissan corrected. The oddly specific list seemed prone to loopholes.

Ianim smiled at him, his eyes twinkling.

"You don't need expensive clothes to do that." Ianim looked him over one more time, a small smile playing on his lips.

Lissan smiled back and reminded himself that this outing was in part for Ianim's enjoyment.

And so, on an overcast Saturday morning, they made their way across Otterly River, and delved into the civilian quarters.

Compared to the brick and iron of the Army buildings on the Western bank, this part of the city was a whirlwind of colours, patterns, and styles. Every time Lissan made his way there, he wished he did it more often, since he'd inevitably discover another little square or alley to explore. The buildings were plastered in light colours, which just about managed to stand up to the accumulated grime from coal smoke well enough. Lissan and Ianim passed more than one facade in the process of being scrubbed clean, in anticipation of lighter, warmer days. And sure, it was much more disorderly than the military sectors, but Lissan found it organic. Charming.

Ianim hooked a hand around his elbow and pulled him in the opposite direction to where Lissan was looking.

"I swear, you've got the attention span of a squirrel at times," he muttered.

Lissan snorted, but followed his lead. They stood out, in their ashen uniforms and with Swords at their sides, but they were far from only Swords in the crowd – and they passed at least a couple people in mourning, wearing a similar shade of grey. Otherwise, the outfits were even more vibrant than the houses. Lissan gave into curiosity and paid attention to jackets men wore – often striped, sometimes embroidered on the cuffs and tails. They looked less durable or practical than the uniform but he could see himself in something like that, brown or green–

"Shall we find you a kontush first, then a less formal ensemble?" Ianim asked lightly.

Lissan stumbled and bit his tongue before a word of protest could escape him.

"I'm still getting over the fact that I'm expected to wear one," he said instead.

Master Claren's lessons in etiquette had been honestly interesting, but it occurred to him that he was treating them as purely theoretical up until now. And he got jitters.

It was fine though, because for most of the first meeting with the tailor, Ianim did the talking. He clearly knew the tailor – a stout woman who to Lissan looked like she was about three hundred years old, which probably meant she was at least twice that, knowing how long people seemed to live in the city. Ianim slipped some half-truths into the smalltalk, letting the tailor fill in false details by herself. A comment about ‘unexpected inheritance’ combined with Lissan’s age, led her to believe that his older relatives had passed away suddenly, and he’d inherited the title of a lord. It set his teeth on edge, but he didn’t interrupt.

She took his measurements as she talked to Ianim, arranging him to stand straighter, lift his arms, then drop them. It didn’t take long.

“As for the fabrics,” the tailor said, pointing him towards a table with samples laid out. “We’re looking for forest green over brass, is that correct, my lord?”

She looked at Ianim, not Lissan, and Ianim nodded in a reflex. Lissan couldn’t decide if he was glad or offended by being left out. He crossed his arms and watched Ianim lean over the table.

Ianim wore blue. He always did when he was out of uniform. It suited him, Lissan decided, looking over his slim figure. It made his eyes look so much brighter, and brought out the blush on his cheeks. However, the question was what colours he would wear, and it was something he’d never had to consider – back in Beetletun, the choices were limited by what was currently at hand. Marta cared so much more about her outfits, and so she got the first choice of colours. He didn’t mind; the same colours suited them both.

"Lissan?" Ianim urged him to come closer.

He just nodded along while Ianim suggested a shiny yellowish fabric with a faint rhombus pattern. Then Ianim pointed at a plain green material, and his breath caught. He knew this colour. It took him back to the Eternal Woods, where it had surrounded him at all sides, thrumming with life. And while the trip overall was less than successful, the memory of that place was something he cherished dearly.

"Yeah, that looks good," he confirmed sheepishly.

Ianim flashed him a smile.

"And for the ensemble, my lord?" This time the tailor addressed him for once.

"A similar green, if you have something like that, please?" Lissan said quickly. Ianim cast him a look, but Lissan didn't let him interrupt. "The stripy one looks nice," he decided, pointing at a fabric the tailor was bringing over.

The stripes were alternating glossy and matte, quite cleverly woven, though he couldn't imagine how it was made... Right, factories. Ianim had mentioned that the engineers employed by the ones in Redguard were racing to develop new machinery for the textile industry. He ran his fingers over the material; it was smooth to the touch though he felt the pattern faintly. Yes, he liked that.

Ianim chatted to the tailor a while longer, under the guise of choosing the colours for the underlayers, and finalising some finer details. Lissan let his voice wash over him. He seemed to be having fun. Every now and then, he'd glance at Lissan with that crooked smile of his, then go back to discussing fashion.

Lissan still looked away in embarrassment as he paid the deposit. He was glad to be out of the shop.

"You seem to have enjoyed yourself," he observed on the way. There certainly was more spring in Ianim's step now.

"Ah, yes." Ianim's smile faltered.

"I'm guessing Gullin didn't let you dress him up like that?" Lissan said quickly, before Ianim could ask about his feelings. It wasn't the smoothest segue, but it had to do.

To his surprise, Ianim snorted, then laughed unabashedly. Lissan relaxed.

"Oh, Elements, no. He made it very clear I'd have to drag him kicking and screaming to a tailor's. I think he's wearing that ratty old jacket whenever we meet up at the pub as payback for the mere suggestion."

Yeah, all right, Gullin would totally do that. He smiled and let Ianim lead him to a shoemaker.

It took them a month to find another morning when they could both get away from their duties. They rushed to the tailor's shop to escape the wet wind, and rubbed warmth into their hands urgently.

The outfits weren't finished, but the tailor wanted Lissan to try them on for fit. And they fit well, much better than the uniform. He smoothed out the waistcoat, running his fingers over the simple monochrome embroidery in the pattern of oak leaves and acorns. Less formal, Ianim said. This was still a masterwork he'd not thought he'd ever wear. Still, since the First Prince was paying…

Ianim arranged a linen cravat around his collar with practised movements, his eyes fixed intently on his own hands, a small frown creasing his forehead. Lissan studied his features as he waited.

To Lissan, Ianim was the perfect example of what a nobleman looked like – slim, with delicate hands and smooth cheeks. Gorgeous, yes, but unattainable. Next to him, Lissan appeared stocky, with hands roughened by working in fields and orchards for the second half of his childhood. Never before had he felt so self-conscious about the pockmarks and the little scar on his jaw, from when he fell off a tree as a teenager. There was nothing to be done about that though.

Ianim helped him shrug on the jacket and straightened his collar. A warm gleam caught Lissan's attention. Ianim got a little pin from his pocket, with an amber the size, shape, and colour of a hazelnut, framed in a simple brass setting. Lissan didn't manage to get a good look at it, before Ianim fastened it to the cravat.

"A gift," he said simply, and stepped back.

Lissan swallowed and turned to the full-length mirror. And froze.

He looked good. Very much like himself, just as Ianim had promised, but the colours matched his complexion, and the cut did wonders to highlight his physique. He didn't think that there was a way for clothes to show off the muscles he'd build up with manual work and training. He was glad to be proven wrong. And the pin from Ianim matched his eyes. His cheeks flushed at the realisation how much thought Ianim had put into it. He caught Ianim's eyes in the mirror and grinned.

"What do you think?" Ianim sounded smug. He had never sounded this smug before. Lissan's grin spread.

He smoothed down the jacket and spun around, his heels clicking on the wooden floor.

"I see the appeal. Especially if your sister is paying."

#writing #my writing #snippet #fantasy #writeblr #writeblr community #writers of tumblr #days of dusk #lissan #ianim #next task: figure out how to make those two interact without it looking like flirting at all times

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tummymoth · 6 months

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Memoriam Amantis [0]

Chapter 0: Prologue (read on Ao3 here)

Chapter Summary: An introduction to Liyue and the importance of stories. One story in particular has been lost to time, the one about a creature known as háizi, and no one knows why Rex Lapis decided to make her. However, the distant memory of her is still one of comfort and calm.

Additional Info: The dive into Liyue lore is DEEP my friends, the alternative title to this would have been An Old Man and his Pet, Zhongli is referred to as Rex Lapis in this, some angst ahead, slightly post-Archon war

Word Count: 689

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Liyue is a nation of words.

Contracts are forged between people. The jet-black ink inscribed onto parchment acts as the stitching that binds one to an agreement. Ancient stories of supernatural creatures and yakshas abound. They are brought to life through the written word and flowing prose of her world-renowned storytellers. Everyone knows of golden rivers overflowing with uttered sentences and a history that’s almost as rich as the harbor herself.

Everyone—at the very least, everyone who proudly calls Liyue home—knows the power and weight of words. Just as they are the thread of each agreement to take place in this nation of commerce, Liyue’s stories are ingrained and sewn into everyday culture and belief. The agony of karmic debt suffered by the yaksha is as sharp as any knife, just as the rumbling rage of being forsaken is felt in every earthquake and landslide.

So many stories to keep alive, and so many lessons to take into life. Despite oh-so meticulous record-keeping and impassioned retellings, it is simply not possible to preserve them all. If the hardest of rock inevitably crumbles under the weight of time, how much faster will word of mouth fade into nonexistence—carried by the wind until it can only be heard in the faint rustling of glaze lilies?

Perhaps this natural occurrence—the death of delicate things coming much sooner—is why the story of Azhdaha is well-known throughout Liyue and some parts of Teyvat; so much so that the dragon is thought to be Rex Lapis’ sole creation.

Azhdaha, his body carved by nothing but the chisel in Rex Lapis’ own hands and a craftsmanship born of patience and skill accumulated over millennia. Azhdaha, who was gifted sight by Liyue’s revered Archon. Azhdaha, whose distant bellows shake every tree in Liyue by the root as he rages underground. The dragon’s story is nearly as large as he is, inhabiting space in the minds of many and leaving little room for the tales of other creatures.

Similarly, Rex Lapis is known for his great feats of strength. Proof of this is in the existence of Guyun Stone Forest—formed by the mighty rock spears he hurled at those who dared to threaten his people and the order he sought to achieve—and in the ruthless tenacity of the yakshas at his command. Stories of a warmongering, brute of a god had spread throughout Teyvat. The name “Godkiller'' overshadowed the praises his people sang about the profound care he held for Liyue that drove him to such actions in the first place.

Once the dust had settled and the blood spilled during the Archon war had finally seeped into the weeping, scarred soil of Teyvat, it was with this gentle, reverent care of those in his charge that Rex Lapis formed a creature known by an exceedingly minute number in Liyue—and by the rest of Teyvat, even less. Its name lies dormant beneath layers of dust, days, and nights long past, so the little few who know of its existence simply call it Háizi—a name also used as a term of endearment from mother to child through the generations.

None know why Rex Lapis decided to make another creature, but if Azhdaha was a showcase of Rex Lapis’ ability to make a space for life through brute force, Háizi’s was a demonstration of his capacity to notice the smallest of details and fine-tune them as he saw fit.

The common consensus is that this act of creation occurred at Luhua Pool. Malleable clay from the bottom of one of the thermal pools was coaxed into form by hands possessing a firm and gentle patience not even the most skilled potter in Teyvat could ever hope to have.

The faint memory of such a creature evokes a calm that starts from the chest, not unlike the comforts of freshly brewed tea or bathing in the rising sun after a cold Liyuean night.

All but one have forgotten its true name and its origins. According to rumor, the holder of this memory goes by Zhongli nowadays.

Next>

Translations háizi: "little one" in Mandarin

#genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact #zhongli fanfiction #rex lapis #character study #angst #fluff #Guizhong x Zhongli #zhongli-centric #Moth's Manuscripts ﾟ𐦍༘⋆

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sirowsky · 2 years

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Chapter 9 - A Different Perspective

Description: In his introduction to the outcasts of Pagwu, Din discovers that just about everything he thought that he knew about demons is wrong.

OBSERVE! Creator chooses NOT to include warnings on this series. Read at your own risk! Be aware that this story will include violence and is not suitable for minors! 18+ONLY.

Word Count: 3600 Masterlist (This Story) Author’s Masterlist

Link to Chapter 10

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They bring him food and water without his asking, as naturally as if he was one of them, without complaints or so much as a hard glare. They’re a warm and caring society where children run from one hut to the next feeling equally welcome everywhere. The Mandalorian is not just a stranger to them, but someone that by definition stands in utter conflict with their beliefs, and yet, they treat him only with kindness.

It’s a good strategy, as genuine and unconditional kindness will inevitably spread and grow, and Din finds himself wanting to treat them the same. But it’s not entirely unconditional. They do want answers in return, something he’s only all too willing to give them, in the hopes that these outcasts might be the only ones that can make sense of what he’s experienced.

He tells them everything as well as he can remember it, from the moment he met you, to the moment you supposedly died, and the little group that’s gathered to hear him, all sit in stunned silence throughout his story. There’s five people in the room with him, all middle-aged or older, and they’ve all been introduced to him.

He still finds it highly uncomfortable to be around people without the anonymity of the helmet, but he hasn’t had a chance to try and fix the visor yet, so there’s really no alternative. He’s already broken the creed for the kid, so this won’t make much difference. Once he finishes, they all look at each other, all with questions burning on their lips, but looking to the apparent leader, Neaba’s mother Nibei, for direction.

“A thirty-year-old demon… Incredible,” Nibei says, deciding to take the reins herself for now. “We always wanted to believe that with a less violent approach, our two species might learn to tolerate each other, but we were never able to find an opportunity to test that theory.”

“I confess I still don’t understand just who you people are. How have you survived here?” Din asks them, and this time, it’s Neaba that answers.

“A long time ago, nearly two thousand years now, a man stepped up to his King and said that demons must be studied without being hunted, without the objective to hurt or kill, before we as a species will ever be able to free ourselves of this conflict. For that, the man was thrown outside the city walls, and never seen again. Fifty years later when a new king took the throne, the same argument was raised, this time by a large group in the hopes that the leaders would realize that this wasn’t an idea that would ever go away. But they all met the same fate, and it carried on like this for centuries.”

“The Royal family line was never broken,” Din adds, remembering the history lessons. “Each generation was taught to hate the demons from childhood, indoctrinated into the belief that they are evil and must be destroyed at all costs.”

“Precisely,” Neaba continues, “so for each new attempt to beg the leadership to try something else, all that was accomplished was feeding their aggression, until people just gave up.”

“But those that had been banished didn’t, I assume, since you’re all here.”

“The first man to ask the question never stood a chance out here, but the group that followed fifty years later managed to reach shelter in these old ruins, and discovered the remnants of the very first well,” she carries on. “Not having to dig through hundreds of yards of stone was their saving grace. All they had to do was figure out how to get down there and mine the water.”

“Our lives all trace back to them,” Nibei picks up the thread, “generation after generation of the unwanted and shunned. But we never cared. Because out here we were free to find our own answers, and what you’ve told us will help us a great deal in that pursuit. But I am curious… Instead of acting in accordance with your beliefs, training and the knowledge available to you, you chose to break a three-thousand-year-old contract, all for someone you barely knew. Why?”

He has to take a moment with that. The walk gave him a lot of time to reflect and consider his own choices, second-guessing himself and wondering if he should’ve done something differently. If he’d been right to let you live. To let you become. A few times along the way, he’d managed to convince himself that Ig’wu is gone because of him, because he just didn’t want to kill a pretty woman.

But there had been other moments too. When he’d remembered your smile and decided that you’d deserved to live just for the world to see it. Or whenever he’d recalled how brave and incredibly strong you were. In truth, Din doesn’t know how he could ever have convinced himself to end your life, no matter what had been at stake.

“She was so scared of me that she couldn’t stop herself from shaking almost all the time we spent together,” he explains, keeping his gaze on the floor in front of his own feet. “She dreaded going up to the palace so much that I had to drag her along lest her body just stopped moving. But even so… she endured all of it for a bunch of kids that she had no responsibility for. She saved my life and asked for nothing in return, even told me to leave her behind.”

He sighs deeply, shaking his head before lifting it to meet the older woman’s compassionate eyes.

“I couldn’t kill her. Even if all of Mandalore had tried to force my hand. No one deserves to die simply for being born.”

They all look relieved to hear him say that, to hear that even a lifelong enemy of the demons could have a complete change of heart. They must’ve hoped to find someone like him for a very long time.

“History is full of mistakes and wrongdoings, not just here, but everywhere,” Nibei says, “What’s important is that we dare to accept that and chose to look ahead, to look for change and improvement rather than bury our heads in the sand.”

“Forgive me, but… what did you mean when you said that you’d been warned about this? You said that there was something you’d always feared?” he asks Neaba, and she gestures back to her mother.

“I think you can explain it better, mama.”

“I’ll try,” Nibei answers her daughter, and then moves closer to the wall to Din’s right, where there’s a detailed drawing of demon anatomy. “Our people started out merely observing the beasts from a distance, trying to learn their habits and family dynamics, understand how they feed. Anything that could help us gain a better grasp of their characters. Back then, there were thousands of them. You couldn’t walk a mile out here without at least seeing one. But even so, their behaviour baffled our ancestors because they displayed no social dynamics at all.”

Din raises his eyebrows at that, confused since he’s been taught that demons live in packs and fiercely defend their own. But he doesn’t attempt to contradict her. He understands that there’s too much he doesn’t know, to be able to challenge anything she says.

“In the wild, unbothered by any dangers, they live alone,” she continues. “In a thousand years of observations, not one has ever sought out another of its kin, other than to fight humans. They have never been seen hunting, or even eating anything. They don’t procreate in any manner that we’ve been able to discern, and yet, their babies appeared wherever they roamed.”

“How is that possible?” he questions, and she points to the drawing, right at the creature’s heart.

“Their anatomy is a natural phenomenon all on its own. They have no organs beyond their hearts, everything else becomes a mass of superheated material that continuously swirls through their chests, and there’s a very important reason for that. Namely that the flame inside their hearts can’t sustain itself. It needs to be fed heat constantly or it fades and dies. But if that’s the only organ they have, how can they possibly procreate? Well, the answer is: they don’t.”

If he was confused before, Din is now totally lost. He stares dumbly at her, too perplexed to even formulate a question.

“They copy,” she explains, which doesn’t help him at all.

“Copy? What… us?”

“Yes. You see, we don’t believe that demons have always been born as humans. We believe that they had a more regular anatomy at first, and that it was humans who drove their flames into such extreme temperatures as to melt their own insides. Thus, coercing their entire anatomy to adapt to radical changes at an exceptional rate.”

She moves to a different drawing on the wall, which seems to depict a creature similar to the beasts, but more like a distant cousin. Its smaller and more natural-looking. Its bones are on the inside, covered by skin and only the chest has a faint glow.

“This is one of the first drawings that were ever made of the creatures. This is how they started out, and this,” she once again points to the more recent sketch, “is what thousands of years of wars turned them into. No longer able to function as nature intended, they were forced to adapt. And somewhere along the way, one of them must have absorbed human genetic material, and created a hybrid.”

“But wait,” he interrupts, still trying to grasp what’s being said, “if they weren’t always such a threat, why would we have provoked a war to begin with?”

“It takes much less than one would think, to sow the seeds of a massive conflict. Perhaps a child of a high standing individual was harmed or killed by one of them. All it takes is one grain of sand rolling down a slope, to set off a mudslide. We still don’t know exactly how their bodies produce and birth the hybrid babies, only that once born, their parent can’t feed or care for them.”

“Okay… hold on, I still don’t understand…” Din fumbles to piece it all together. “Yes, it makes sense that they wouldn’t be able to care for a human child, but since we know that they only managed to hide a rare few of them among humans over the years… how could they keep growing in numbers for so long? How did we find and kill so many of their babies?”

She walks away from the drawings and comes to stand before him, now with a sadness in her frame that seems to be aimed at him.

“Because you are relying on false information. The story of The Five Wars has only ever been told from the human side, and almost exclusively by the Royals. They have always controlled all information concerning this conflict, even to your kin, Mandalorian. And in turn, you have been fed the same lies that they were made to believe. The demons never had any choice but to either abandon their young in the desert to starve or leave them in the hands of humans. Yes, whenever a child of theirs was found, it was unceremoniously executed, but we never had to go looking for them.”

Searching his own memories, Din tries to remember if he ever heard anyone say that it was his people that had killed the children. But all he can recall is his teacher saying that it was humans. Not Pagwians or Mandalorians, just humans. And if his kin weren’t directly involved in this supposed hunt and subsequent slaughter, then how could they know if it ever even happened.

“Their numbers grew simply because more of them joined the fight,” Nibei keeps going after a brief pause. “Because they existed naturally all over this planet, whereas the conflict started on the northern half. They’re naturally solitary but came together when their very existence was threatened. And they would’ve won if not for the discovery of their only physical weakness. I’m sure you were taught what it is.”

“The ears,” he says without hesitation, the memory of his specified training sitting at the forefront of his mind, as well as in his hands. “Because of their transformation, the ears have to be completely reformed, and that creates a weakness at a specific spot just behind them, where the skull doesn’t fully fuse with the new bone.”

She nods, still with that sadness in her eyes.

“That was the only thing that humans ever bothered to learn about them. The children were a happy coincidence. A fluke that we took maximum advantage of.” But what if, instead of killing them when we happened to find them, we’d cared for them? What if we’d shown the demons that their offspring were safe with us? Can you imagine the bond that we could’ve forged? The alliance we could’ve had with such a powerful species.”

“So, all that talk about the Royals being trained how to detect signs of the Burn in kids, tests they could do to be certain, that was all lies too?” he presses, and she nods again.

“Their people were terrified. Imagine living with the constant threat of being burned alive, and then learning that the monsters who threaten you can infiltrate any human setting in a completely undetectable way. They had to come up with something to set people’s minds at ease. If they’d simply said ‘don’t worry, the beasts won’t voluntarily leave their babies with us’ no one would’ve felt reassured. It was too scary. A monster that doesn’t just look, but actually is human.”

She sighs, almost in tears now, and he can practically feel her empathetic regrets radiating out of her, even though she isn’t to blame for the actions of her ancestors.

“I don’t condone or agree with their actions, but as a leader myself, I do understand how desperation could’ve brought them to that point. Pagwians have had frail nerves for a long time. Stretched too thin by too many defeats.”

After a few breaths with her gaze to the floor, she recentres and carries on.

“There is, however, a sliver of hope embedded in this story. Because those of us who have survived out here, have never stopped trying to bridge the gap between the two sides. We have continued looking for ways to communicate with the demons, to let them know that there are humans who wish them no harm. And three hundred years ago, we finally succeeded.”

“The latest sighting,” Din recalls.

“Yes. We have always made regular trips towards Ig’wu, in the hopes that any other banished individuals could be found before they succumbed to the desert. Thankfully, there doesn’t seem to have been any expulsions in recent times, but one of those trips yielded some unexpected results. A roaming demon attacked one of our people when he was returning here, but he didn’t fight back. Instead, as the creature ran towards him, he quickly backed away and bowed his head, and the demon stopped.”

“Why would it do that?” he asks, again befuddled.

“Because he was mimicking their own behaviour,” she explains. “That was the payoff of all those that came before us, all those that gave their lives in the pursuit of more knowledge, more understanding. He knew that when demons meet in the wild, they stop at a certain distance from one another, bow and then they both walk away, never moving closer to the other.”

“They respect each other’s space,” he ponders. “And this worked for the man as well?”

“It did. The beast was confused at first, and tried to charge again, but the man repeated the correct behaviour, moving even further away, and it couldn’t disregard his respect. And that was the spark that changed everything here. Our beliefs had finally been validated. We were right to think that they weren’t mindless beasts, but complex beings with a social structure and rules which they live by. So, a week later, half the village went out in search of that demon, all moving along their own path, hoping to expand on this favourable encounter.”

“And what happened?” Din asks, finding it harder to sit still the more he learns.

“They found it. And this time, it was a woman that encountered it. She was well familiar with everything they thus far knew about the beasts’ behaviour, so she set to work the moment she spotted it. Using their species own psychology, she was able to get within five feet of it, well within range of its tail or a swipe of its front leg, but she walked away unharmed. This strategy was then repeatedly implemented over the course of several years, slowly earning the demon’s trust, until it felt so at ease around these humans that it even walked these very streets, surrounded by people, without either side feeling threatened at all.”

He’s completely stunned to hear this, having to step back and lean against a table before his legs give out. Because this is a fairytale. In any other setting, among any other people, he would’ve called them crazy and left, but not here. Here, in this moment, he believes every word.

“Incredible,” is all he can muster.

“Indeed. But then, after less than eight years of peace with this one creature, it suddenly vanished and didn’t reappear for almost a decade. When it did, something happened that we haven’t quite been able to grasp based on the written accounts that we rely on. They describe it as some form of attack, because one person was harmed, but not just physically.”

“How do you mean?”

“A young boy was touched by the demon, and while he was burned, from what we can tell, it was his mind that suffered the most damage. The notes are filled with devastated ramblings and unfinished paragraphs, there must’ve been a lot of turmoil. But the one thing that’s written clearly, are two sentences that the boy kept saying: One will survive. One will end it all.”

He feels weak suddenly. He’s not even sure why, but something about those words makes him feel heavy and sad.

“That’s what Neaba meant about a warning.”

“It’s always felt ominous to me,” the daughter confesses. “Every time I hear those words I shiver.”

“I wonder if that could’ve been Pan’s mother,” Din speculates. “I mean, this was long before Pan was born, but still, I feel like it must have been that demon. And if so, it was still alive thirty years ago.”

“It’s highly likely, especially when we consider Pan’s unusual tolerance and attitude, despite knowing what she was,” Neaba chips in. “But I do wonder just how she could’ve known that.”

“I never got a chance to ask her anything more about it, but she must have had help. Someone must have seen the demon hide her in the city and like you all, decided to nurture good rather than destruction.”

He wishes that he’d had the time to explore more about you while your mind was still intact, but there’s no point in dwelling on that now. It’s much too late. What he can focus on, however, is understanding your beast as expertly as these people seem to.

“What about the Burn? Have you been able to learn why or how it happens yet?”

“Not really,” Neaba explains. “Until today, we’ve assumed that it’s genetically encoded in them to undergo the metamorphosis if their hearts reach a certain temperature, at which point the flame has to be kept alive, or they die. But Pan contradicts all that. Her flame was repeatedly brought well past that limit, and she still managed to cool it back down without dying. Now, it might be that she is a new stage in their already very rapid evolution, and that none of the others could’ve survived doing that, if they could even have managed it. But since we can’t test the theory either way, it’s a somewhat pointless discussion.”

“And what about me?” Din jumps onto the next question, eager to understand as much as possible. “How did I not die in that well? How did she heal me?”

No one answers that at first, but Neaba and her mother exchange a look that he can’t decipher, before Nibei turns back to him.

“The best explanation I have to offer is either that she felt indebted to you to such an extent that she felt compelled to spare your life. Or that… she cared too much about you. It might sound ludicrous given how brief your encounter was, but from what you’ve described, I don’t think that she would’ve stuck around you unless some part of her was drawn to you. As for the healing, I don’t have a clue. To my knowledge, this is the first we’ve ever heard of something like that.”

It doesn’t sound that ludicrous at all. He’d felt just as protective over you, even though he’d only known you for about a day.

“Teach me, please,” he asks everyone present. “Teach me how to understand their behaviour, how to communicate with them.”

“Are you hoping to go out and find her again, Mandalorian?” Nibei asks, sounding as though she’s about to suggest that it would be a bad idea.

“No. But she found me in the desert two nights ago, and something tells me that for whatever reason, she isn’t done with me.”

–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–

Link to Chapter 10

Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging, I’d greatly appreciate it <3

@idreamofboobear @tanzthompson @winter-fox-queen @tiffanyleen @shsoba05 @toomanystoriessolittletime @nolanell @myfavpedrothings @harriedandharassed @bruxasolta @tintinn16 @pedrostories @littlemisspascal @sj-draws00 @gallowsjoker @spishsstuff @little-mrs-morales @bilibiche @gallowsjoker @insomniamamma @thelion-sroar @brunette-overalls

#din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x monster!reader #din x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #mando x f!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #sirowsky stories

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bbnibini · 2 years

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Threads (Kaedehara Kazuha)

sequel to fall again (loosely inspired by the tale of orihime and hikoboshi) ao3 mirror commissioned from @lexsssu. No cap but this made me get c1 Kazuha. Comm her now to win your 50/50s! /jkjk

The red string of fate is said to connect two individuals whose fate is inevitably intertwined. Though the threads may get tangled or strained, they always find a way to meet as is destined.

Such is the tale of a certain wanderer and an embroiderer.

Once upon a time, the scion of a dying noble family explored the city of his birth as was his routine on most days. Though his family preferred him to be at home studying his lessons, the young boy’s heart was as free as the wind. Whenever he explored, he never had any specific destination in mind, allowing his own feet to take him wherever they desired.

Mayhaps it was fate or a stroke of luck, but a young Kaedehara Kazuha meets you beneath the sakura blossoms as your hand grabs the end of your ribbon that had been blown away. Coincidentally, he who was walking behind you managed to catch the other end at the same time.

Neither of you knew it, but destiny had begun to pull the webs it had woven.

The second time you met, he stumbled upon you sitting down on a large rock beside a small stream.

You held in your hands some thread and a needle, embroidering what looked to be a maple leaf motif upon a handkerchief. Slender yet deft fingers skillfully created a vivid picture upon your preferred canvas as soft sunlight bounced off of your form, a halo of sunshine surrounding you.

When he used the word ‘stumble,’ he meant it in a literal sense.

The same wind that gently teased you was also the same one that made his latest poem slip right through his fingers. He’d desperately been trying to catch it in a game of cat and mouse by the outskirts of his hometown.

And it just so happened that his poem had slipped through a clearing, making him hastily follow after and subsequently stumbling upon the babbling brook you took refuge at.

He was normally careful and even rarer to fluster, but even the cold waters didn’t stop his pale cheeks from heating up at the sound of bell-like laughter.

The day the last attendant of the Kaedehara Clan was finally dismissed, its young master brought with him only a burlap sack filled with a few trinkets and necessities for his journey. He is no longer the destitute young master of a once well-known clan, but rather a nameless wanderer whose home will be any shelter he’ll stumble upon. Whether it be some dank cave or an abandoned hut, he will allow the wind to guide his travels.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay? You will always be welcome here.”

They both know that is still much left unsaid, but both stood still and unwavering as the Lord of Geo himself.

Kazuha left with an additional trinket, but his pack weighed the same as it did.

Inazuma is a wonderful place.

As long as you had the bravery to take the first step, countless sights, sounds, and experiences awaited you at every corner. Good friends also lurked in almost every dusty corner or hidden crevice, but of course dangers were also a part of the package.

Though that was simply a part of life’s charms, was it not?

He’d be lying however, if he said that there weren’t any certainties that he didn’t take comfort in.

The fact that his hand immediately sought the embroidered fragrance bag strapped to his waist didn’t go unnoticed by his newest friend.

“Oh, so that’s it…”

“What’s what?”

“I always wondered why you never joined me whenever I visited the massage parlor. Send my apologies to them the next time you visit—”

“...Why are you apologizing?”

The other ronin shook his head, smacking the palm of his hand on his forehead as he muttered unintelligible words under his breath.

Kazuha could only raise a pale brow at his antics, chalking it up to Tomo’s own oddities.

Nizi tachite

Tachimachi kimi no

Aru gotoshi

He left in the middle of spring, a time of great abundance which equated to a relatively easy journey if you take out the occasional bouts of danger from monsters and bandits. Before he knew it, winter had set in and blanketed everything in a sea of white.

“...brought in by some foreign traders from Mondstadt while I was window-shopping in Ritou. They said it was perfect for this season.”

Though he no longer had any actual home to speak of, what with his ancestral house and possessions sold off or placed into storage after his clan’s fall, he still finds himself at home within a cozy cottage in the middle of winter. A warm cup of cocoa had been given to him, warming his hands and fighting back the cold chill from the outside.

Factually speaking, the drink in his hands was certainly warm.

However, something else warms him from the inside-out.

Kazuha resumes his journey as soon as winter melts into spring.

Tomo bites off any comments when he notices a new fragrance pouch upon the anemo-wielder’s person.

Yuku haru ya

Tori naki uwo no

Me wa namida

“I have to go.”

For once in his life, Kazuha felt afraid of these words. Despite being used to them, there is certainty and urgency in them this time.

He’d already lost his best friend.

He didn’t want to lose anyone else, especially if he could prevent it.

That is why there is no time to lose. Not when another life, a life much more important than his own was on the line.

He leaves like a phantom, disappearing into the night as the wrath of the Raiden Shogun crackles and echoes all across Narukami island.

Kaedehara Kazuha was never there at the humble cottage near a stream. Nor did an ordinary embroiderer ever have anything to do with a dangerous fugitive.

And so the threads are stretched once more, farther than it has ever been before.

But they do not break.

The symphony of nature seemed more pronounced today.

Perhaps it was because the Sakoku & Vision Hunt Decree were finally abolished by Her Excellency, the Almighty Narukami Ogosho, God of Thunder.

Even the air in Inazuma felt…lighter now.

For ordinary vision-less folk, it was a blessing to finally return back to normal. Though Inazuma normally kept to itself, its trades with outlanders certainly helped their economy flourish.

For those who worked within the textile industry, the fabrics sold by foreign traders are godsend as it added more variety to their own products.

But rather than cloth, you are more thankful for something else entirely.

“Shall we return home? I believe it will be pouring quite soon. It’s best for us to go back now before we’re soaked to the bone.”

A hand slips into another,

fingers intertwined,

and a single heart beats.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin #kazuha #kazuha kaedehara #genshin fic #genshin imagines #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #reader insert #genshin fanfic #kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha x reader #commission

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dougstevensonmaine · 7 months

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From Idea to Execution: The Journey of a Successful Entrepreneur

Embarking on the journey of entrepreneurship is akin to setting sail into uncharted waters. It’s a voyage that begins with a spark—an idea that ignites the imagination and fuels the desire to create something impactful. Yet, between the inception of an idea and its successful execution lies a labyrinth of challenges, learnings, and perseverance that define the trajectory of a successful entrepreneur.

Conception of an Idea

Every entrepreneurial journey originates with an idea—a solution to a problem or an innovation that fills a gap in the market. These ideas often arise from personal experiences, observations, or a burning passion to change the status quo. However, having an idea is merely the starting point; it’s the crystallization of this concept into a viable business plan that marks the first step toward execution.

Crafting the Blueprint

Successful entrepreneurs meticulously craft a blueprint for their idea—a roadmap that outlines the product or service, target audience, revenue model, and growth strategy. This phase involves extensive market research, feasibility studies, and iteration to refine the concept. Creating a solid foundation is crucial; it sets the direction and forms the basis for future decisions.

Overcoming Challenges

The entrepreneurial path is rife with hurdles. From securing funding to navigating legalities and fierce competition, entrepreneurs encounter obstacles at every turn. Flexibility and adaptability become essential traits as they pivot, recalibrate strategies, and sometimes even face setbacks. It’s the ability to confront and conquer these challenges that distinguishes successful entrepreneurs.

Execution and Adaptation

Execution is where the rubber meets the road. Turning ideas into reality requires dedication, resilience, and a willingness to iterate. Entrepreneurs often start small, testing their concepts, gathering feedback, and refining their offerings based on market response. This phase demands a blend of creativity, strategic planning, and the agility to adapt to changing circumstances.

Learning from Failure

Failures and missteps are an inevitable part of the entrepreneurial journey. However, it’s how entrepreneurs respond to these setbacks that sets them apart. They view failures as learning opportunities, extracting valuable lessons that shape future decisions. Embracing failure as a part of growth fosters resilience and fortifies their determination to succeed.

Scaling and Innovation

As the business gains traction, successful entrepreneurs focus on scaling operations while fostering innovation. They continuously seek ways to improve their offerings, staying ahead of the curve in a dynamic market. Scaling requires effective delegation, building strong teams, and nurturing a culture of innovation within the organization.

Legacy and Impact

Beyond financial success, many entrepreneurs aspire to leave a lasting impact. Whether it’s revolutionizing an industry, creating social change, or inspiring the next generation of innovators, they strive to build a legacy that extends beyond their business.

The journey from idea to execution is a rollercoaster ride—an odyssey filled with triumphs, failures, and invaluable lessons. While the path may vary for each entrepreneur, the common thread lies in their unwavering determination, resilience, and passion to transform their vision into reality. Ultimately, it’s this perseverance and commitment that pave the way for a successful entrepreneurial voyage.

#Doug Stevenson #bowdoinham maine #entreprenuership #entrepreneur #Business

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denimbex1986 · 10 months

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It’s the Summer of Barbenheimer and we’re all just living in the shadow of its hot pink mushroom cloud. The double whammy of Greta Gerwig’s Barbie and Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer offered audiences one of the most exciting cinema double bills since long before the pandemic, and they came out in droves for both. Now, Barbie is the second highest-grossing movie of 2023 so far, and Oppenheimer, a three-hour biographical drama about the Manhattan Project, has grossed more money than The Little Mermaid and Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One.

The frenzy this double bill inspired, from themed parties and cocktails to the best memes of the season, drove home the genuine desire that film lovers had for something they could truly sink their teeth into. Sure, one is based on a toy and the other is a pretty traditional biopic, but both films represented a kind of change that we needed in the pop culture landscape. One such yearning: more stand-alone movies!

...we’ve come to expect a tease for a cinematic universe that may or may not come to fruition. Remember the Dark Universe? Or the six-film King Arthur universe Guy Ritchie was supposed to make? Or the Robin Hood series with Taron Egerton that ended after the first installment? There’s a reason people were wondering if films like Oppenheimer would have a post-credits sequence: because we’re so painfully used to having every movie end with a tacked-on promise for more, whether or not it makes sense or there’s any true hunger for it (and the possibility of an Oppenheimer post-credits scene is faintly terrifying: Which creation of a devastating weapon does it hint at next?).

Why is it now so rare to get a stand-alone film with a beginning, middle, end, and a guarantee of a complete narrative? Yes, us grumpy critics have been complaining about sequel overload for decades now, but things definitely feel different now. You can watch Die Hard and be perfectly satisfied because it existed as its own thing long before the idea of a sequel entered the filmmakers’ brains. It doesn’t spend half its running time setting up hints for future stories and a bunch of story threads that are never paid off. There’s also a distinct lack of adult-focused mid-budget films in the current theatrical market. While neither Barbie nor Oppenheimer technically qualify for this since both films cost over $100 million, they do fit into that increasingly rare niche by merit of their focus on telling a singular story that isn’t dependent on the viewer having to do a ton of homework before tuning in.

...when I see articles offering ideas for Barbie sequels, I can’t help but feel disappointed. Part of what made Gerwig’s film so special was its densely layered, funny, heart-aching, and complete story. You leave the theater feeling so satisfied because you got what you were promised (and so much more). Oppenheimer is complex, with a vast ensemble and most of its lengthy running time dedicated to conversations about physics and ethics that Nolan refuses to dumb down. Why would you ever walk out of that film wondering about plans for an expanded universe? You just know some studio head floated the idea at some point.

It seems like so little to ask for, yet it feels inevitable that Hollywood will learn all the wrong lessons from the success of Barbie and Oppenheimer. Expect more sequels about toys and fewer emotionally driven tales that give viewers exactly what they want. But our hunger for stand-alone stories remains strong. We don’t have the time nor inclination to watch every film we see evolve into a decade-plus commitment that has a strong chance of being abandoned long before it reaches that much-hyped climax. Let Barbenheimer lead the way and remind Hollywood that it’s okay for things to end.'

#Oppenheimer #Barbie #Barbenheimer #Greta Gerwig #Mission Impossible Dead Reckoning Part One #Christopher Nolan #The Manhattan Project #The Little Mermaid

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randomleafoflove · 2 years

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While Wen Xu is leading the army to attack Cloud Recesses, Wuxian is put to the test on how he’d psychologically demoralize the sect heirs.

This is really unpolished and might end up completely changed by the time it hits AO3, so do take everything with a grain of salt.

Wuxian and his cohort watched in silence as Wēn Xu led a third of all Wēn cultivators out of Nightless Sky. Everything leading up to this point had been a prelude, all the minor sects.

Wēn Ruohan wanted a war, and this, an all out attack on Cloud Recesses, was the start. The other Great sects would have to respond.

Shijie had managed to send Pinde-shixiong along with the army with Wēn Ruohan’s orders to seize the Lan library rather than burn it to the ground. They had all been working day and night since the order came to embroider enough high quality qiankun pouches for him. Wuxian was drained from all the spiritual thread he’d produced.

The army would take hours to disappear out of sight. He had no intention of standing there, watching.

Ꙭ

Morning lectures had been canceled for all but the youngest junior disciples.

Never before had Wuxian had this much unscheduled free time, if one could call it that.

Everyone was busy. Wen Ning was helping his sister stock the pharmacy. Shao-shijie was embroidering protections to all the cohort’s battle robes. Tui-shijie was always furiously rewriting shijie’s notes to a more readable form. Lingchang-shixiong was consulting with Jin-laoshi on various secret affairs Wuxian was sure regarded some of the unfortunate rumors he began hearing around Nightless Sky’s market. Shijie was running from one meeting to the next with barely any time to breath between.

A week after Wēn Xu’s departure, shijie called him to her tearoom.

She was tired and pale, but also fist-shakingly furious.

“Wēn Chao has been assigned to lead an indoctrination camp for the sect heirs and their nineteen disciples. I have managed to get the heirs for the afternoons. You will join Wēn Qing and Wén Zhuliu-xiong in supervising Wēn Chao and monitoring the sect heirs.”

Wuxian cocked his head. “Indoctrination camp? What would Wēn Chao have to teach the other sects’ heirs? He can barely differentiate a sword’s handle from its tip.”

“You are preaching to the choir,” shijie muttered and Wuxian pretended he didn’t hear. “Wēn Chao’s brilliant idea is to have the disciples read and recite the Quintessence of the Wēn in summer sun and then have them tire out by doing manual labor. All this after their swords have been confiscated, of course.” Wuxian nodded mockingly. Mocking Wēn Chao was too easy. “All of this while also leading them on night hunts, unarmed. If there is even one slightly cleverer than average disciple among them, they will escape when Chao-di inevitably screws up. Your Lan-er-gongzi is cleverer than average, so… But I managed to sway father to give me the afternoons. So here’s this lesson’s question. How do I destroy them with afternoons only, without resorting to physical violence? This is just a thought exercise for you, I already know what I’m going to do, but I want to know how you think it should be done.”

Lan Zhan’s face flashed in Wuxian’s mind, but he pushed it down. “Destroy how?”

“So that they are unable or unwilling to fight in the war.”

If they were left with Wēn Chao, they’d just grow resentful and fight all the harder once they escaped.

“First you have to create a rift between them and the other disciples, right? That’ll be easy, Wēn Chao will not let the other disciples eat or wash properly. A few days after the start, one of the disciples should “accidentally” see what the heirs were doing instead of manual labor. And they should be cosseted. Reading on soft pillows with tea within arm’s reach in a pleasantly cool room. Snacks and sweets too. And have them overhear some of our disciples comment enviously how easy they have it, like they are treated as part of our cohort.”

“That would require the disciples to know how cohorts work.”

Wuxian blinked. And tried to remember back to the Cloud Recesses lectures. Surely the other sects had some kind of system that was reminiscent of the Wēns’ cohorts? How else did they retain any talent that came outside the clan? They couldn’t all marry into the clan. Unless they were all harem masters.

But no, Lan Zhan, who was already late to start recruiting for his cohort, had no disciples. Wēn Ning had found his first disciple when they were thirteen, and by now had five disciples orbiting around him, a pair of orphaned siblings and three cousins for some degree. He couldn’t really afford all five, so they all worked at the pharmacy to supplement Wēn Ning’s earnings as a healer and junior archery instructor. Zewu-jun had no personal aid. Jin Zixuan had his retinue, but those were more assigned servants and retainers rather than chosen family. Jiang-gongzi wouldn’t have been so lonely if he’d had a cohort of his own. Nie-er-gongzi wouldn’t have been able to just skirt by during the lectures, he’d have had to impress his disciples, and Wuxian doubted questionable reading material would have been the way to go.

So, no. The other sects didn’t have anything in place of the cohort system.

“I suppose it would be too much to ask Wēn Chao to make the morning lectures at least a little useful and explain the cohort system to them?”

“I wouldn’t want him to explain it anyway. He’d probably make them think it was slavery,” shijie scoffed.

“Point. Where was I? Right! Not part of the cohort, how about likening them to favored disciples then?”

“Good enough analogy. Go on.”

“Okay. So. The heirs should not do anything physical. Even a few weeks of no physical training will weaken their muscles, right? Wen Ning said that’s why recovery after an illness is a long process. So they should only like, read and play board games. Maybe recite some poetry and appreciate nature. If we had them completely to ourselves, I’d suggest the isolation rooms, but they’re really only useful for longer periods.”

“Some of the seals from the isolation rooms can still be applied. After all, we wouldn’t want them to cultivate to retain their muscles.”

Wuxian nodded. “Right, right. Should they be applied to the heirs themselves or the rooms?”

“I’m not here for a brainstorming session, A-Ying, I’m here to see how well you apply your knowledge.”

“The heirs themselves then. Should impede an escape too. A collar? No, a cuff. On the ankle. So even the most flexible can’t slip it off.”

“Very good, A-Ying. What should they read and play?”

“Nothing strategic, so weiqi’s out. Yahtzee? Swords and slides*? Trivia games? Eh, good enough. As for reading… I dunno, romance? Porn? But at least Lan Zhan wouldn’t touch it.”

“Anything else?”

Wuxian thought hard. Nothing else came to mind. He shrugged.

“You forgot to apply the talents of the rest of your cohort. A-Wei suggested playing calming tunes while they slept, and A-Zhu suggested a mild relaxant in the incense. On the other hand, you were the first to suggest the cuff be on the ankle, so well done, A-Ying.”

Wuxian beamed, a little embarrassed. When presented with that kind of scenario he always forgot to include his cohort’s talents.

*Snakes and ladders adapted to cultivation setting

#mo dao zu shi #grand master of demonic cultivation #fanfic #wei wuxian #wen wuxian #wen xiachen #owe it all 'verse #ocs galore

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justjennaslife · 2 years

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Sports/Activities (6/18-6/19)

My apologizes for the lack of photos for this thread. I did lots of fun stuff but my phone was in my bag.

On Saturday I went to Busan. The same beach I was at 2 weeks earlier but this time I was going surfing. We went to this place called monkey surfing. They guys there were super chill they just hung out in massage chairs, played the guitar and sang, and taught surfing. Honestly seems like a super chill life.

The guys were super nice and spoke little English, but that didn’t matter. Krystal has surfed there before but it was my first time ever surfing. It was super fun. The waves were small but they were easy to learn on. They gave us wetsuits and a 2 hour lesson and we were able to keep all the stuff until the end of the day.

During the lesson the instructor kept telling me I was really good for it being my first time and I was the best one in the class. I was super happy that apparently I was good.

We went for lunch after the lesson. And we returned to the beach to relax and chill. The waves also got bigger so we went out without the instructor and it was way more fun since these bigger waves gave us more power to be able to stand up while the smaller waves were weaker.

We headed back to Ulsan at the end of the long day. I got funny wet suit tan lines. It was inevitable so I don’t care too much hahah. We ordered dinner and had it delivered for when we got back. By the time we got home is was around 730. We ended up just watching videos and movies for the rest of the night which was super chill.

The next morning was also chill. We had 1 plan which was whale watching at 3. So we went at 2 to the place and they said the earlier watch was cancelled so they rebooked everyone for the 3 one so it was sold out. I remembered that Krystal mentioned roller skating so I suggested that and she loved it.

As we were walking to roller skating I saw a Ferris wheel that was on top of a building and Krystal had never been on it so I was like let’s go. It’s in the center of the city so we could see a lot which was cool.

We as we were walking to roller skating we saw a frozen yogurt place so we stopped for a small snack. It was really good and cute since it was the first time I saw froyo here in korea.

We got to roller skating rink and I’ve never tried it. I thought it would go poorly but it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Krystal taught me the basics and I was pretty good, for it being my first time. There is the owner who knows Krystal and one of her friends Amy who helps them out. He saw me sitting to the side and decided to helped me out with turning which is what I was struggling with. He was super nice and kept asking me if it was really my first time because I was good. All these compliments from the surfing instructor and now the owner of the roller rink just made me feel great since I now know my past athletic self still exists.

Krystal, Amy, and I went for some food (I forgot to take a photo before so here is the finished table haha). After food I caught the 8 bus and went home :)

I am very sore from all the fun things I was able to do but I would say it was a super fun weekend and maybe I’ll go back and roller skate again!

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oxboykev · 2 years

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Ashes To Ashes

I can finally say that the skin in which I’m living now feels more supple and defined, yet strongly reflexive. Adaptable. And “sacrifice” is a word I no longer fear because it is something I no longer do.

For the longest time my main talent was sitting and picking through the ashes, interrogating skeletons, and mapping out people’s inconsistencies after I would witness their actions betray their words. But there is an art to forgiveness. It is not about pardoning other people’s transgressions just for the sake of restoring everyone’s peace of mind and goodwill. It’s all in re-focusing your intent for the benefit of restoring some faith in yourself. So first thing’s first: I forgave myself for coddling people who would never admit to enjoying circling the drain and willing to, unbeknownst to them or not, suck others down with them.

I can sort of pinpoint when I began suffering under the delusion of self-sacrifice. The family and the community in which I was raised ingrained in me at an early age that setting aside your ego and lending a hand to those who supposedly needed it was essential for living a valuable life. My dad, especially, encouraged acts of selfless service. He was well known for practicing volunteerism in our small town. And in so completing these acts of volunteerism, there was always an assumed reciprocal benefit: You make a difference in the world, you feel better about yourself, and, heaven forbid, when it’s your turn to ask for help, those same people you helped before will come to your aid, no questions asked.

However, conditioned as I was, it never crossed my mind that I should think for myself before I decide to give all of myself. Magnanimity, do-goodism, charity, whatever you choose to call it, is when you sacrifice your own needs to provide for someone else’s. What is overlooked, though, is that when a person is unaware of what makes him feel whole in the world or, at least, in communion with it, sacrificing the Self will inevitably exact too much of a price. The messages that society pumps out to lend a helping hand are remiss in telling us that selflessness can also lead to the rotting of our Being’s core when we don’t learn to detach charitable acts from inevitable outcomes. In other words, expectations of reciprocity should never figure into one’s choice to help someone out. Setting up personal limits and boundaries was something I should’ve learned just as importantly as I had learned to reach out and help a struggling fellow human.

As a child I picked up on the overt and covert messages streaming through everyday life about the unquestioned virtues of charity and that good acts produce good karma. They swelled my prepubescent brain with heroic images of a Savior on a white horse healing the sick and avenging the meek. But there was no one in my circle of influencers to teach me how to evaluate and handle those occasions when my hand would be bitten off by the one I had been trying to feed. I was left unprepared to meet those circumstances whenever a supposed friend took me for granted, resented me for even helping out in the first place, and then abandoned me to face my own confusion and embarrassment. I had to learn for myself when someone’s silence in the face of insurmountable odds could be a plea for help or a counting of the seconds until the very thin thread from which they hang suddenly snaps.

An endless feedback loop of feeling betrayed established itself in my mind. With nothing but just my ego to reassure me, the next step was, unsurprisingly, to angrily flagellate said ego until its spirit was broken yet again. I began associating learning life lessons with self-punishment. Into the early morning hours, I would rationalize to myself that these termites took what they wanted and left me in the middle of nowhere looking like a collapsed house. Acting like a spurned White Horseman who was in the thralls of helping another person climb back up from the cliff from which they were clinging, I would invariably find myself reversed and in a similar precarious predicament, but with no one left to notice my plight and offer help.

What remained was a crippling self-doubt that accompanied every aftermath of ingratitude and scorn after I had expended so much effort releasing the assailed from the assailant. No longer did I think I resembled a caring human being anymore, but simply a reliable tool that could be thrown back onto the workbench among all the other dinged up and used tools. Instead of stepping back and examining my real motivations for offering help and subsequent failure to reign in my expectations, I turned myself inside out and sulkily picked at my raw nerves and brooded over the multiplying scabs.

I don’t know when the realization came to me, but it dawned on me eventually that tradition, custom, and self-satisfied denial are what shackle people to their zombie existences. Wearing their heavy chains of misery, they throw themselves down ravines of utter hopelessness and dash any thoughts they may have had about rising and taking up arms against their own miserable stations in life. In our own peculiar way, we allow Little Dictators to rule our lives. We let these simpletons have a say in how we behave, think, and evaluate our stations in life. Perhaps at first they offered us something useful, even comforting, that shaped our lives in a promising way. After a while, we depend too much on their presence and then their influence starts to overrun our natural defenses. Feeling overtaken, we start to believe in our own helplessness, and like little children we paradoxically feel more in control by giving up all of our control. Wanting to avoid blame and any unforgiving consequences, we dare not tear through the social fabric that is obviously constricting us from saving ourselves. So we put away our knives and attempt to appear calm and collected, even though we could be falling apart right before everyone’s eyes.

It’s taken quite some time, but I am now fully cognizant that the above insights I laid out for all to contemplate are, in fact, honest expressions of self-pity. What I came to realize was that I was skirting the truth to spare my hurt feelings. The truth of the matter is, is that I didn’t take the opportunity to see myself as a complicated, worthy human being with mixed motivations but a kind heart. Whether the pain I was feeling was self-inflicted or not, the pain had nothing to do with entering other people’s private hurt and trying to lay hands on it to help slow the burn. It had to do with my own assumptions about the root{less} causes of pain in the world and my absolute overestimation of my own influence and capabilities to apply the right kind of force to cut through another person’s Gordian knot. I was unable to see through my own fog machine and find that there were no damsels-in-distress; there were no cliffs; and, there were no White Knights. My iron-side pride had made them all up so that I could see myself as the Hero in my own fantasy.

Now that I have lived a shade longer, I have taken the time to hold a more generous view of my record when it comes to interactions with those who’ve crossed my path and whose paths I’ve crossed. No longer do I engage in charity, and I no longer feel obligated to take pity on anyone. The world is baffling and life can be dehumanizing and exploitative. We all have to live with and within its contradictions. In spite of that, when I engage with humanity these days, I do so with more clarity and humility. I don’t presume to know what anyone is truly going through and I don’t assume I have any good answers to help them get back on a path that they’ve temporarily lost sight of. I understand I can be of help; but I may not actually be able to help. And because I acknowledge that distinction, I know when to move over and make way for someone else to be of service.

#help #helpful #helpless #hope #hopeless #pity #pitiless #self #selflessness #wisdom #life #lessons

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jxsatlas · 3 years

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍 ⇢ keith kogane, ch. 1

keith kogane x gn! reader – next

DISCLAIMER! this story does not originally belong to me, the author is @MaddieWolf37 on Wattpad. i have simply received permission to rewrite and continue her story. go and check out her profile for the original version!

SYNOPSIS! a story in which you are thrown into the middle of an intergalactic space war and have the undesirable weight of being a symbol of peace dropped on your shoulders. but maybe if you look past the constant danger and endless fighting, there's some good to being a paladin of voltron.

MATURE CONTENT! swearing, violence, gore, war, graphic descriptions, mentions of self-harm

"Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14," Lance announces, "Begin descent to Kerberos for a rescue mission."

He shoves the yoke forward and the aircraft takes a steep dive. You plant your feet to help fight against the inertia. You give him a sharp glare as the aircraft steadies out.

"Ugh, Lance, can you keep this thing straight?" Hunk whines from the back.

You look over your shoulder and recognise the nauseated expression on his face all too well. Last semester, there was a girl on your team that didn't do too well with excessive motion and often got sick.

Lance brushes him off. "Relax Hunk, I'm just getting a feel for the stick," he says with a lazy grin, which quickly turns mischievous. "It's not like I did this, or this!" Lance jerks the aircraft side to side, making Hunk feel worse.

"Knock it off, Lance," you warn from your chair next to him. You reach up above you and press a few buttons in hopes of stabilising the aircraft out after Lance's little joke.

"Yeah, listen to [y/n] unless you wanna wipe beef stroganoff out of all the little nooks and crannies of this thing," Hunk groans angrily.

"We've picked up a distress signal!" Pidge says from his seat in the back.

"Alright, time to quit our bickering and get serious," you say, doing your own little thing to accommodate for the lower altitude while Lance flies the aircraft.

"Pidge, track the coordinates," Lance says with a roll of his eyes at your comment.

Pidge does so, typing away on the computer. The aircraft gives a large rumble and Hunk groans again.

"Knock it off, Lance! Please!" he whines, his face all scrunched up in discomfort.

"Oh, that's on you buddy," Lance says sharply. "We got a hydraulic stabiliser out."

Hunk nods and goes to fix it, but when the aircraft shakes again he gags. "Oh no."

"Oh no, fix now, puke later," Lance growls.

So much bickering... you think to yourself with a sigh.

"I lost contact!" Pidge says. "The shaking is interfering with our sensors."

Lance looks over his shoulder at Hunk. "Come on, dude!"

"Sorry, it's not responding," Hunk says and unfastens his safety belt. He carefully gets up and makes his way over to the gearbox to see what's up.

"Coordinates are back," you say, seeing the blue dot on the dash.

"Nevermind Hunk," Lance says.

"No, he still needs to fix it," you say. "We can't properly fly this thing if a hydraulic stabiliser is out."

"Whatever," Lance rolls his eyes, "Preparing for approach on visual."

"I don't think that's advisable, given our current mechanical..." Pidge warns, trailing off when he hears Hunk gag again. "...and gastrointestinal issues..."

"Agreed!" Hunk says, not before quickly emptying his stomach into the gearbox with the unsavoury sounds of food chunks and liquid hitting the metal. You cringe, not liking the sound, and hope he's okay.

"Stop worrying," Lance says dismissively.

"No, they're right," you say firmly as you place your attention on Lance now. "We should wait before we do anything."

"Nah, this baby can take it! Can't ya champ?" Lance coos and pats the dash. The aircraft rumbles again and he retracts his hand with a sheepish look. "See? She was nodding!"

"That wasn't nodding Lance," you deadpan. "Now listen to us and wait."

"I'm the one flying this thing, aren't I?" Lance asks. "So I'm in charge, and that means what I say goes!"

"Excuse you, we're both flying this thing," you argue.

Ignoring you, Lance turns to Pidge. "Pidge, hail down on them and let them know their ride is here," he says.

Knowing that you're now doomed, you keep your mouth shut and wait for the inevitable failure of the simulation. You can already see it, the big, bold, red letters appearing on the dash.

And when Lance flies towards an overhang, tilting the plane as much as he can in a sad attempt to thread through the little hole rather than going over or around, you know this is where you fail.

Lance doesn't make it. The wing gets torn off, the alarms blare, and the aircraft pummels to the ground. The dash goes black and those red letters you were anticipating appear without hesitation.

Simulation Failed.

The first failure on your school record.

You toss your head back and sharply exhale, frustration building up in you. "Nice going," you grumble and look at Lance through the corner of your eye.

He catches your gaze and glares at you. "Oh, shut up," he growls.

The four of you sit in silence for a second, you and Lance glaring at each other, before an instructor opens the door and beckons you to come out.

Reluctantly, you all unfasten your safety belts and crawl out of the aircraft. You then mentally prepare yourselves for the lecture about how you are all failures to come.

You, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge line up before the Commander, avoiding his scowling gaze.

"Let's see if we can't use this complete failure as a lesson for the rest of you," Commander Iverson's voice booms angrily. He's not at all impressed with your behaviour. "Can anyone point out the mistakes these so-called cadets made during the simulator?"

"The engineer puked in the main gearbox!" a boy from the back of the group of students shouts out. Iverson nods and turns to Hunk.

"Yes. Everyone knows vomit is not an approved lubricant for engine systems," Iverson sharply criticises Hunk. He turns back to the students. "What else?"

"The comms-spec removed his safety harness," a girl points out.

"The pilot crashed!" another shouts.

Iverson nods, approving of all the answers given. "And worst of all, the whole jump they're arguing with each other," he growls and turns to the four of you once more.

You keep your gaze on the ground shamefully.

"The Galaxy Garrison exists to turn young cadets like you into the next generation of elite astro-explorers," Iverson lectures. His hands are on his hips as he looks down at you. "But these kinds of mental mistakes are exactly what caused the lives of the men on the Kerberos Mission."

In your peripherals, you notice Pidge clench his fists at his sides and scrunch his nose up in anger. You fully turn your head to him when he takes a bold step towards the Commander.

"That's not true, sir!" he barks.

Iverson looks at him and glares. "What was that, young man?" he growls.

Lance quickly slaps a hand over Pidge's mouth and pulls him back in line. "Sorry, sir! He must've hit his head when he fell!" he says, smiling sheepishly in a sad attempt to cover up his fear. His hand gets tighter over Pidge's mouth, almost as if he's asking the ginger what the hell is wrong with him.

With Lance speaking up, Iverson's attention is now pinpointed on him. He takes a few steps closer to Lance, his intimidating figure making your brother cower back a bit.

"I hope I don't need to remind you that the only reason you're here," he growls, his tone of voice menacing and powerful, "is because the best pilot in your class had a disciplinary issue and flunked out."

Lance drops his gaze down to the floor, a look of dejection taking over his face.

"Don't follow in his footsteps," Iverson warns. He stares Lance down a bit before abruptly turning to you. "And you!" he barks.

Your entire body freezes up and your eyes wearily follow him as he stops in front of you now. Your heart sinks down to your gut.

"I expected better of you."

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

You returned to your dorm at the end of the day with a cloud over your head.

You grumble about the day's events as you aggressively tug your shirt over your head. You really wish you could pinpoint the source of your frustration. Are you mad at my brother? Your team? Or yourself?

You toss your clothes on the floor and pull out some track shorts and a hoodie from your dresser. Getting dressed in your pajamas for the rest of the night, you try to sort out your emotions.

"Stop mumbling to yourself," your roommate says from her bed.

You turn to her. "Ah, sorry," you say. "I didn't realise I was talking out loud..."

"If you're that mad at your brother why don't you just punch him?" she asks. You blink, surprised she actually heard you.

"I'm not violent like you," you say with a sigh. "Besides, I don't even know if I'm mad at him specifically."

"Eh, I would punch him either way," your roommate shrugs. "It's a good way to alleviate your stress."

You roll your eyes. "I alleviate my stress by sleeping."

Your roommate laughs. "Ain't that the truth?" she jests. "How many times have you taken a nap between classes this week?"

You stare at her with a blank expression for a moment before picking your clothes up and off of the ground. "I'm not answering that," you say and toss them into the hamper.

You and your roommate pause when there's a knock on the door. You look at her and she looks at you.

She raises her hands up. "And I'm not answering that," she says.

You roll your eyes and grab one of the dirty articles of clothing you tossed into the hamper and throw at her without any remorse. She yelps in fear and disgust as you walk to the door with a smirk on your face.

"Don't throw your nasty underwear at me!" she barks and she pinches the panties between her thumb and index finger, tossing them as far away from her as possible.

You cackle and open the door. Your laughter cuts short when you're suddenly face to face with your brother. Hunk stands behind him.

"What are you doing in the girls' dorm?" you ask, but then take the opportunity you just created for yourself to tease your dear elder brother. You think of it as a bit of revenge for crashing the simulator. "Visiting someone?"

Lance rolls his eyes. "Heh, I wish," he sighs. "But no. We're thinking about hitting the town tonight! You know, for some team bonding?"

"Who is it?" your roommate calls to you.

"Lance and Hunk," you say over your shoulder at her.

"Punch him!" she shouts back.

"No!" you hiss and turn back to your brother.

"I don't like your roommate," Lance comments under his breath.

"Neither do I," you joke.

"I heard that!" your roommate barks.

"No you didn't!" you ready. But getting the feeling that she's going to keep interrupting, you push Lance out of your way and step into the hall with him and Hunk. You then close the door and give the boys your full attention.

"So, you're gonna come with us?" Lance asks.

"I don't know," you say with uncertainty in your tone. You cross your arms. "It's past curfew and I don't really think you have off-campus privileges..."

"That doesn't matter," Lance waves his hand dismissively. "Iverson wants us to bond as a team, so why don't we listen to him for once?"

"I'm not feeling that adventurous," you say.

"What? Why not? It'll be fun!" Lance cajoles.

"Lance, your idea of fun always ends up with you and me in the principal's office," Hunk reminds. "Don't drag your little sibling into it."

"Hunk has a point," you say. "I don't want to get in trouble again. I had my filling for today."

"Since when were you a goodie-two-shoes?" Lance asks in a somewhat offended tone.

"Since I got a scholarship here?" you quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Who are you and what have you done with my sibling?" Lance says as he gives you a look of utter betrayal, as if you were some alien.

You roll your eyes. "I'm not too keen on losing something like that because I went along with your dumb shenanigans," you sigh.

"Please, the max punishment for something like this is just a weekend detention with old man Brechin," Lance says and a mischievous grin spreads on his face. "That is, if you get caught."

You bite your lip, looking away in thought. Team bonding sounds very appealing after what happened today, but are you willing to risk your scholarship? You don't know if you can lose it because of a simple detention. The Galaxy Garrison is a government program, which means they are pretty strict.

"Do you really need to think about it?" Lance asks with raised eyebrows. "Don't tell me you're scared!"

His words irk you immensely.

You snap your gaze up to him. Is he serious? You aren't scared. Why would you be scared of sneaking out?

You silently walk back into your dorm and quickly throw a bra on, some socks, and your shoes.

"Where are you going?" your roommate asks as she watches you scramble about the room with a sense of purpose all of a sudden.

"Team bonding," you say, now tying the laces of your shoes.

"This late? Are you sure?" she asks.

"All common sense in me left the moment Lance basically called me a scaredy-cat," you say bluntly.

"Well, have fun," your roommate says.

You give her a small salute as you walk out of the dorm. "I'll be back by morning."

"Alright, see ya!"

You close the door and turn to Lance and Hunk expectantly. "Well?"

Lance gives you a cocky grin, proud of his persuasion skills. You suddenly consider your roommate's suggestion for a second.

"We need to go grab Pidge," Lance says. "It won't be team bonding if someone's missing. You gotta have everybody."

You shrug, doubting Pidge will join.

Lance takes the liberty of leading the way to the boys' dorm, you and Hunk following closely behind. You expertly dodge the officers patrolling the halls making sure students are in their dorms like ninjas on a stealth mission.

As Lance rounds a corner, he suddenly stops and back peddles quickly. He peeks around the corner and watches whatever is on the other side. Curious, you and Hunk sneak up close to Lance and peek as well.

Pidge steps out of his room, a backpack swung over his shoulders. He checks his surroundings before closing the door and running off.

You, Lance, and Hunk share a look. You all then telepathically agree to follow the small boy. Once again, Lance takes the lead.

#voltron #wattpad #keith #voltron keith #keith kogane #x reader #keith x reader #gender neutral reader #vld #vld fanfic #fanfiction #vld keith

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