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makima-s-most-smile · 1 year

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A hint of resurrection

In which hope dies as it always does

God, do you resent me?

Wolfwood doesn’t know why he does it. Repressing the need to cough out the liquid filling his lungs only causes discomfort and Vash is hearing it anyway. No way that bastard is not listening intently to every sound that comes from Wolfwood. The way his breath gets shorter and shorter and the quiet gurgling sound that joins them. Despite Wolfwood’s stubbornness, the reflex wins periodically and it brings up mouthfuls of lymph, blood, loose cells and other stuff that the overdrive of his metabolism deposits in his lungs. His self control goes far, but drowning in his own fluids is something his body won’t allow to happen even as it is in the process of dying.

Have I angered you?

Vash bridges the line between being present and being frozen in shock. Even without looking at him, sitting on the edge of his seat, knees up, heels digging into the floor and toes stretched up in the air, desperately hugging himself for comfort, his anxiety fills the air. High strung with the desire and the need to help, to do something, anything, but struck with paralysing realisation of utter and true powerlessness. Vash knows. Wolfwood knows. It sits between them in the air with unspoken words and grief for something that will never happen, grief for a future that is too good for someone like Wolfwood, while being the least Vash deserves. No need to talk about it. The dice have fallen. Arguing over the roll won’t undo its reality. And above everything, Wolfwood has always been a true and absolute realist.

What else did you expect me to do?

Wolfwood has nothing else left to give. His hands are empty and his path ends here. If anything, he wants to die with the knowledge that he has tried to spare Vash pain. A last act of kindness, maybe his only true one. A thanks, for meeting him, travelling with him, for Vash’s presence in his last moments. Words aren’t enough. God, actions aren’t enough. And he can’t even act, though, and time is naught. At least… he can make it less painful. Vash deserves that much… and so much more. Above all, Nicholas D. Wolfwood wishes he could have been Vash’s friend. For a little bit longer.

Should I have ignored the responsibilities, no one else was willing to shoulder?

He does neither stop nor turn around to look if Vash follows him. Vash is there. Right behind him. Covering his back one last time. Wolfwood proceeds in his slow trek to find a good place to… to what? Sit down… Relax… At least squeeze out a bit of joy from his last moments… And then die… Perish… Croak like the joyless bastard he is…

Should I have watched them suffer like I did?

“Let me at least try…,” Wolfwood hears Vash from behind. Wolfwood snaps around, angry words about futility and finality already forming behind his snarl. Instead he tips over as his world is plunged into sudden darkness by his sudden movement.

Should I have stayed my hands like the many Good men doing nothing?

Vash has caught him. Of course, he has. The sudden burst of anger has completely evaporated in his short spout of unconsciousness. This is not about Wolfwood. He shouldn’t make it about himself. No one cries for the devil, not even the devil himself. “It’s my fate, Vash,” he whispers. No space for bile or despair left, only desolate acceptance. It empties him, leaving only a shell, ticking off checkmarks on an invisible list, getting his things in order. A list whose only purpose is to diminish the pain his passing will cause. Wolfwood has never thought it would be that long nor that he will be unable to complete it. And that his inability to do so would cause him such suffering. “It always has been. From the day I was conceived, it was either shooting myself or ending up like this.” Wolfwood ignores how Vash’ lips quiver at the words. He can’t take it. Why does he make everything worse? “C’mon, needle noggin. Let’s not waste anymore time on this.” He laughs, it is too loud and too jovial and all he can give. Vash looks down and doesn’t move.

Why is it my sin to have acted?

Doesn’t Vash deserve the knowledge that he has done all he could? For his peace of mind? It’s useless, though, and Vash should save his energy for Knives. But that is the realist talking. By now, they have gotten to an understanding. Knives is the sword hanging over Vash’s life. It is admirable that Vash is able to find joy in everyone and everything around him. That’s why he is here, next to Wolfwood. Because instead of cutting the sword over his head… He chose Wolfwood’s side… So Wolfwood offers his hand to the other. Give and let give. “One try, one minute,” Wolfwood sets the rules. Give Vash his peace of mind at the minimum cost. It’s just rational. “Promise me not to use up… whatever… dunno… mumbo jumbo… yer life force or something. There’s something else you need to do and…” That’s all Wolfwood can give. It is not enough, never enough.

This doesn’t seem right.

Vash grabs his hands like it is a lifeline. A glimmer of hope in all this shitshow that is Nicholas D. Wolfwood’s life. That is something Vash has always excelled at, in finding hope when Nicholas has already given up like the coward he is. Maybe… just maybe… God, please… Maybe this time he is allowed hope? A bitter voice adds quietly, at least Wolfwood doesn’t have to live with the disappointment of the failure.

This doesn’t seem fair.

Vash holds Wolfwood’s hand in his own and presses it to his lips and then chest. He has closed his eyes. As his feathers sprout from his cheeks, his arms, his back. Vash presents himself in all his inhumanity. Maybe that is why Wolfwood has come to trust him. Through all of his masks, his constant escapism and his evasiveness about his person, Vash is honest about his core. The feathers wrap around their hands, his wrist, his arm, reaching for Wolfwood to take him into an embrace. They are cool to the touch, bendy and smooth, not like real feathers. Meaty, not ethereal. Something very real and physical. Wolfwood should be scared shitless. Meryl has been, Meryl has been so scared. And Wolfwood is just laying there, head resting on Vash’ lap and staring with indifferent reverie and distant curiosity. Maybe… in another time, they could have worked together… Wolfwood, Meryl, Milly and Vash… to explore Vash’ weirdness, to avoid Meryl fearing him, to avoid Vash being so isolated from everyone just for having this weird body, when the worst thing the doofus does is throw their money away on donuts, when instead they truly need a shower. But that’s another world and a world Wolfwood could never be part of. He can only sit here and watch and observe, the sole witness. Calling Vash an angel would be distasteful, but that’s the closest thing Wolfwood could compare him to right now. An angel praying to God to save this sinner's life.

Have mercy on this sinner.

Nothing happens. God stays silent as so often before, when Wolfwood has prayed and prayed to no avail. His prayers have stayed unanswered through pain, blood and despair. They stay unanswered now, too. Maybe the Divine wasn’t on the ships that left Earth. Maybe the Divine has turned their back on their creation as they saw how imperfect humanity was in spite of being made in their image. It’s useless, a waste of time and Wolfwood cannot help himself but feel disappointed, disillusioned and worse, pity for Vash. Vash, who is bearing scars too obscene in their creation to be comprehensible. Vash, who still opens his heart to the people around him. Vash, who has let even someone like Wolfwood in and in again. Vash, who is still hoping and caring. Vash, whose hope is about to break against reality. It shouldn’t be on him... There is only one devil willing to break Vash’s hope…

I beg of you, God.

Wolfwood’s tremors feel so much worse in Vash’s unmoving hands. He jerks himself free and gets rewarded with a coughing fit. There is a mercy in it. Occupied by the coughing, Wolfwood is unable to look Vash in the eyes as the hope dies between them. And Wolfwood will follow it too soon to be able to ruminate about it. At least Vash can say that he tried. Wolfwood can only pray that it gives Vash some peace of mind. He clasps Vash’s shoulder and gets up. He feels like he’s an old man, knees trembling and back hurting.

Please, just a little bit…

“Is this the way you want it? Are you sure…,” Vash starts, but Wolfwood interrupts him. “Yeah…” Wolfwood looks up at the sky. “It’s been a good run.” A lie. A truth. An empty phrase. That leaves no words. It feels suffocating. Maybe that’s why, at the end of his life, Wolfwood catches himself opening up. “And… I am grateful, ya know?.” Vash laughs awkwardly. Wolfwood cannot endure the vulnerability he freely offered just a moment ago. No sentimentality, no tears, nothing for Vash to latch on and hurt. “Psych! You’re the one who should be thanking me, Spikey!”

A little respite… after all of the sacrifice…

It stands in the middle of a ruined house. Nicholas has played hide and seek in there, always being the seeker, always the lookout and always the one who ends up finding even the most hidden, giggling ray of joy. It has been full of laughter and sometimes a scraped knee. One wall of it is left standing, the rest has been destroyed by Livio and Chapel’s onslaught. The couch has survived the destruction impeccably clean for the destruction in which middle it is sitting. Wolfwood cleans the cushions from some debris and sits down, slapping the place next to him. It’s a nice overlook from the couch. Endless stretches of sand meeting the everblue sky. There’s even clouds. They say there is water in them. Wolfwood never believed any of that shit.

Is that too much to ask for?

“Anyway… Come on…,” Wolfwood emphasises his words with a wave of the bottle of whiskey. “I haven’t had a drink with you in a while.” Not waiting for an answer, he uncorks the bottle with his teeth. It pops unceremoniously. Vash sits down next to him, holding one of the shot glasses. “There’s worse stuff to drink out there.” First Vash’, then his own, filled up to the rim, as a treat. Half of it spills over to the ground between when they clink the glasses together in a toast.

I’d just like to have a little bit more time… with him… with them…

The whiskey is warm. Its temperature brings out all of its worst traits. Alcoholic with not much nuance, bitterness that clings to the palate and a tang that scratches the throat on its way down. With Vash at his side, it could be the best he’s ever had. Both refill their glasses. Many words fill the air between them and none is spoken. They all boil down to a helpless despair. No comfort in the inevitable, when one has to leave while the other prevails. No solace when it is dependent on the other being present and staying present. The wish for more, more time, more words, more brawls, more laughs. The wish for a spoken intimacy that has been given nonverbally, back to back, clinking their glasses, bickering about things that have boiled down to be completely unimportant between them. Wolfwood choses silence instead of stirring emotions in Vash that the other then has to deal with alone. And Vash… most likely doing the same.

I’d like to get a few more laughs in…

“Smile, Spikey…,” a request, a plea, if not for now, then one for the future. Move on, find joy again. “It suits ya, when you do.” Wolfwood takes a sip from the godawful whiskey. “I guess… It was harsh of me to say all yer smiles are empty. Sorry.”

I’d like to drive around some more…

Vash’s face is a mask of pain, teeth clenched together by the dire need to stay present for Wolfwood and not give into the tears. Wolfwood would give his world to take that pain from Vash. “Wolfwood…,” the words come out in fragments. “Don’t say… stupid things.” So Wolfwood says nothing anymore. It is just the two of them, eyes to the wide, blue horizon in front of them.

I’d like to have just a little bit more time…

Their silence is interrupted by a scrap of paper fluttering in front of Wolfwood’s face. Then another and another one and suddenly there are many. Scribbles and ripped up drawings, wax crayons, coloured pencil, pens and coal give them colour. All handmade and unique, crafted with care by children’s hands. Wolfwood looks up to the airship. The air is filled with colour calling his name. It’s a simple message. They are safe. They know. His family is safe and welcomes him back. Why does it hurt, though? Why does his chest feel tight? Nicholas’ work is done. He can rest. He should feel relieved. Instead, Nicholas feels his eyes tear up and overflow. He has always known he would end like this. This is peaceful, really, he could not even imagine a more peaceful way to die. He should be thankful. Why is there still this burning desire in his chest? Why is this not enough? Why does he have to cry out loud for something he knows he'll never get?

God, I’d like the chance to live.

The blue sky and the never ending sand. Blue and gold. They flow together to join each other into a new and utter darkness. It takes his sight. The whiskey slips from Nicholas’ iron grip, suddenly infinitely heavy. It takes his touch. Something in the air, like electricity, a passing observation. It takes his attention. A loud impact, the bottle hitting the ground, and the church bell’s chime, eternally clear, but final. It takes his hearing.

Please… just…

Just for a little bit…

It takes his thought.

#trigun #trigun spoiler #it's the couch scene #beware #Revival-AU #It looks like I didn't use my AO3 account enough and I need to wait for a new invite #but I've written this so I will post it #yeehaw #now to move on to nai being a little bastard #my art

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whirling-fangs · 8 months

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There's the usual commotion at the time of communion. Lately, the double portions offered towards a certain boy have been garnering some unwanted attention from the younger girls of Eternal Paradise. Why does he get to eat twice as much as the rest of them and have frequent snacks too? Of course, Inosuke is a young man in development and the meals will do wonders for his inflating biceps - but to Meiko and Sakura, Inosuke-kun could never be seen as attractive, when they have watched him stuff his face full of tempura to the point of having crumbs up his nose. And he'd pick them out and eat them too, if he knew. He's so disgusting!

Yet, their judgemental glares and exclamations are not the only source of attention Inosuke will be getting tonight. If the hair on the back of his neck rises, he would not have to look much further than the communion table's head to figure out the source. Prismatic eyes fixed on him through the commotion; an unblinking glare that only leaves him when another follower beckons their attention. And even when he turns to address her and place a comforting hand on her bruised face whilst offering up his own portion ( in his endless generosity! ) the Lord Founder's smile lingers. A smile that speaks of contentment; as if he was satisfied with something.

The boy's appettite? Probably, because it could not have been his table manners.

"Eeeew! Inosuke-kun, here. You can have my rice too, because I don't want to go to sleep tonight and worry that you might still be hungry!" Meiko exclaims. For as distraught as they seem, the girls do make an effort to pat his face a little cleaner.

To say that Inosuke did not care for manners might be an understatment.

He shoveled the food from the bowl to his mouth with great helpings of his hands, chopsticks long abandoned on the ground. They were inefficient, too slow, too inconvenient given the quantity of food he was supposed to absorb.

All that food devoured, yet not an ounce of fat was added to his body. His metabolism was a wonder in itself, though his physique did seem to be changing, little by little. Defined muscles, veins pulsating across his skin, most often hidden within the confines of his clothes.

He didn't want anyone to notice. He didn't want to answer any questions.

The girls' chatter was entirely ignored, busy as he was trying to eat a record amount of rice bowls. He could easily shut out the noise around him, the sights of the crowd huddled around the food... but he could not so easily brush off that gaze piercing into him.

He didn't have to stare back to know who it belonged to.

He practically snatched the extra bowl from the girl's hands, its contents devoured in a few bites, as he nearly bit off the fingers that approached his face from up close.

"Don't touch me! I can clean up on my own!" He ranted, slapping Meiko's wrist away with more force than he intended to. This would certainly leave a bruise.

"Mind your own business. I have all the food I need."

He didn't tell her to eat more. He didn't tell her to eat while she could, to enjoy the meal to the fullest – because it might be her last. Inosuke had long noticed a sort of pattern, a repeated tale that haunted him at night.

Those who talked to him were always the first to go. Those who paid attention to him, cared for him, got a little too close... they were usually gone within the week.

#cryopathiic #on melancholy hill / alive!kotoha AU #[[RIP Meiko :') you will be remembered]]

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stargazer-sims · 1 year

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Haru: We're back from the stylist, and we're hotter than ever!

Keigo: I can't say anything for myself, but Senjirō is definitely looking cute.

Senjirō: *blushing* Keigo, stop. Do you want us to get in trouble?

Keigo: Says the boy who held my hand in the back seat of the car all the way home.

Senjirō: My hands were cold.

Ryu: Great, you guys are back. How'd it go?

Haru: Me and Senjirō don't have hair colours not found in nature any more.

Keigo: The main stylist said all three of us needed to give our hair a rest. She put everyone to work changing us back to our natural colours, so now we can let our hair grow out a bit with no one noticing too much of a change.

Ryu: Did Sarah come and pick you up?

Haru: No. She sent Ji-Soo to get us.

Senjirō: She's lovely, and we never need any extra security when she's with us.

Haru: I guess you weren't up when we left, Ryu. Ji-Soo asked about you.

Ryu: She did?

Haru: I think she was worried about you. I mean, it’s rare that you’re not around to see us off somewhere.

Ryu: I wasn't up, but I was awake. I heard Keigo and Senjirō getting up.

Senjirō: Sorry. I sneaked into your room in the middle of the night. I was lonely.

Keigo: I told you I'd come in with you.

Senjirō: I know, but I was trying to be brave.

Ryu: How about you both just sleep together in your room from now on? Keigo can keep his stuff in my room, just in case anyone checks to see if we're sticking to the new room assignment.

Keigo: See, Senjirō? That's what I told you we should do in the first place.

Senjirō: I know, but I figured we should at least try to follow the rules.

Haru: You shouldn’t have to follow the rules if they’re stupid, especially if it’s gonna turn you into the protagonists of the greatest tragic love story of our time.

Ryu: Don’t exaggerate, Haru.

Senjirō: I’d rather not have a tragic love story. I just want the regular kind.

Haru: Personally, I want the kind with plenty of wild se—

Ryu: Haru!

Haru: Uh… sorry? I guess I’m not allowed to say that around people who aren’t getting any?

Keigo: As if you’re getting any.

Haru: Have you ever gotten any?

Ryu: Can the two of you please just… stop? You’re making my head hurt.

Haru: Maybe it’s not us. Maybe it was all the drinking yesterday.

Senjirō: We could’ve warned you about playing beer pong with Taiji, you know. His aim is insanely accurate, so I’m not surprised he won.

Haru: Our baby… I’m so proud.

Senjirō: We trained him well.

Ryu: So I heard.

Keigo: *laughing* Look on the bright side. The pizza was good.

Senjirō: Speaking of that, are there any leftovers? Getting my hair done made me hungry.

Keigo: You’re always eating, and yet you’re so tiny. I don’t even know where you put it all.

Senjirō: I guess I have a fast metabolism.

Haru: Lucky you. Cute face and fast metabolism. Not everyone gets both.

Ryu: Yes, there’s leftover pizza, Senjirō. We can all have lunch as soon as Taiji comes upstairs, okay?

Senjirō: What’s he doing?

Ryu: Working on some arrangements, I think. Anyway, I told him to be back up here by noon.

Haru: Why?

Ryu: We got our tour schedule this morning.

Haru: Ooh… tour schedule. Where are we going?

Ryu: I don’t know yet. I decided not to open the email until all of us were here, so we could look at it together.

#ts4 #sims 4 #eagames #snowy escape #sugar valentine #Sakuharu Abe #Senjirō Okada #Keigo Sasaki #Ryuusei Yoshida #fake boy band #wearesugarvalentine #stargazersims

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therealieblog · 2 years

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I started reading Health At Every Size by Linda Bacon, and wanted to give my thoughts.

First off, this book is AMAZING. Mind blowing. Fantastic. It is carefully researched and documented scientific proof that fat does not at all equate to poor health, and references multiple far reaching scientific studies to back up its claims, as well as providing detailed, yet not difficult to understand biological and chemical explanations behind fatness and the way we metabolize food.

CONTENT WARNING: If you are new to Intuitive Eating, please either don't read this, or do not in any way try to start following this advice, unless you are very comfortable with food and eating. I stopped dieting six years ago, and I am just now ready to talk about health, but a person never has to talk about health, or contemplate trying to improve one’s health if it's triggering.

So as I stated above, HAES is wonderful. It's also very health oriented. When I stopped dieting, I hated talking about "health". Health is a blunt object that's been used to bludgeon fat people with guilt and shame for decades. For a long time after I quit restricting, I didn't want to work on my health, outside of hydrating enough, getting enough sleep and adding some vegetables to my food now and then. I’m already avoiding a large array of foods that cause stomach trouble for me due to IBS, so getting into cholesterol and sugar and omega 3 fats discussions felt like too much.

Eventually though, I got to a place of eating whatever I wanted (of the foods that don’t hurt my stomach), whenever I wanted and in whatever amount I wanted for enough years that I grew very comfortable around food. I also noticed that I'd been feeling down and lethargic for the past couple of years. Probably some undiagnosed covid depression, but also I wasn't moving around enough (for me), and was experiencing lots of stomach issues.

I bought HAES on audible and have listened to three fourths of the book, and like I said, it's astounding. There are a couple of warnings I'll put out about it, and then I'll talk a bit about the good stuff.

Warnings: Bacon uses the words "obese" and "overweight" a LOT in the book. She does this because they were accepted and often used scientific terms for fat people in 2008 when the book was published. She talks later about how those terms aren't appropriate for fat people and that just saying "fat" is fine, so in this, she shares our current outlook on fat terminology. But she apologizes/explains this way late in the book, (also while stating that she rarely uses it in the rest of the book, which is just not true, she used those words a ton). So if you find that triggering, it won't be fun.

Another thing the book does, and Bacon has every right to do this, it focuses a lot on health and at everyone being at a "healthy weight". Bacon is very clear that that weight is really a set point, that your body will take you to if you just let it. Not a weight you must get *down* to. But still, hearing about being at a "healthy weight" several times a chapter was a bit unsettling. Not triggering. I think (hope) that I'm past that, but still.

She has one chapter dedicated to nutrition, but she puts up tons of warnings and disclaimers that the advice she gives NOT be used as a diet, and that this chapter should be skipped outright if the reader is struggling with food and body issues. I took some of her advice from that chapter, based on the science she uses to explain why it would be beneficial. I've been feeling horrible lately, and I think a few simple, weight inclusive health changes will be good. But not everyone feels that way, or feels ready to do that, and each person should move at their own speed.

This book is amazing, but I think Intuitive Eating must be read first. It's gentler, less complicated, and takes most of the emphasis off of health. I feel like people should dwell in the realm of IE as long as they need to to feel comfortable surrounding food and eating, then read HAES.

The thing I will say for HAES that is lacking in a lot of fat activism and content I've heard from body positive folks, is that she goes hard core into the science of why fat is not unhealthy in and of itself. After IE but before HAES, I was feeling anxious that my weight actually was causing me to feel crappy. Now, post HAES, I know that it's not my weight at all. Just my lifestyle and diet choices.

I made some enjoyable changes to what I’ve been eating, but will still indulge in all the foods I want, whenever I want them. Dietary changes that feel restrictive will only make a person binge down the line, and the book says repeatedly not to stop eating the foods you like, or change the types of foods you eat if you don’t want to.

I also joined a gym and have been slowly upping my time, weight and resistance each time I go. This too is something that has to be a personal choice, and of course many people might not have the time, money or physical ability to go to a gym easily. Nor do you have to work out to be a valid and worthy human being. Do what's best and feels right for you.

I would strongly recommend that anyone feeling solid in their recovery read this book. And maybe people don't have to be all that strong not to be triggered by the tone of the book, but I got nervous about it, and I've been in recovery for years. Bacon does a crap ton of research into the real connections between weight and health and what she says is astounding in its implications for how we view fatness, fat people, food and health. It is definitely worth a read if you’re up for it.

#health at every size #haez #linda bacon #intuitive eating #diet

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bainhaaning09 · 8 months

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The most Effective Ways For Girls Over 50 To Lose Stomach Fat

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#extreme weight loss methods

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senescenceandsensibility · 2 years

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Spilled Milk

A follow-up post.

So, yeah, the deathaversary of my husband passed without incident. But hoo boy, has it been a week of ridiculous near misses with Extreme Feelings about Seemingly Small Stuff.

On Wednesday, I dumped most of my granola and milk breakfast all over my desk, under the sympathetic but amused eyes of three male coworkers. And there I was…struggling not to cry over spilled milk. Pretty sure I said “DON’T HELP ME, PLEASE,” to one of them.

Naturally the old adage lights up in your brain. Of course you are pre-judging yourself for being upset.

I could probably put together a decent pile of essays about crappy platitudes, but this one is really annoying. Fully, I believe, it’s “no use crying over spilled milk,” likely just a(nother) way to get kids to not feel feelings, which seems like it was really important for a long time. But why not?

We should be careful about obsessing about things we can’t change, I get that. But the fact that there’s so very much that we can’t change feels like a very good reason to cry.

Also, it was MILK. It’s all over EVERYTHING.

Have I mentioned my foray into intermittent fasting? Can I tell you that it’s a lie? I mean, maybe not. I wouldn’t be surprised at this point if I were the only person on earth it didn’t work on. What I do know is that I am more disciplined about this than I have been on any other food-related strategy. On at least 6 days a week, I eat everything between 10am and 5pm (or 5:30), which is pretty extreme compared to some. I eat three sad, tiny meals at my desk at work, the picture, if anyone was looking, of an extremely single person with food issues. I’ve been doing this for roughly two months or more. Granola for breakfast, some yogurt and a handful of nuts around 2pm (or he equivalent) and then a salad or other vegetable-forward dinner. I have lost no weight. There are no rewards in life, kids. My blood sugar levels might be improving but to know that for sure, I’d need an engaged healthcare provider, and that doesn’t exist if you’re not actively bleeding or unconscious.

NO SHIT I CAN’T CHANGE MY MENOPAUSAL METABOLISM, THANKS FOR THAT. I can’t change my body image disorder, I can’t change the fact that my husband died a hundred years ago, or that I’ve been alone since then. But I won’t cry, don’t worry!

Anyway, all that to say that the granola is my best meal. I make it myself, it’s important to me. But also, it breaks a 17 hour fast. “But I’m so hungry,” was my first thought. Impossible not to feel a lot of feelings.

Everything is heavier this week, but also, everything is heavier anyway. We’ve all been through it. Exhausted, at the end of our ropes. My younger self would have thought that hard times would get easier as you get older, but this is emphatically not the case. Nothing is the thing alone. It’s the thing plus all the other things that came before. That’s true even without a global plague, a crumbling democracy, and an imperiled earth.

I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules. I mean that – I’m truly sorry. I know I’d do better than this.

The bigger question is why aren’t more people crying? Why isn’t everyone? I’d love to say it’s fortitude or resolve, but I’m afraid they don’t even know it spilled, you know?

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dismal-noise · 3 years

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Let’s Learn About Water Weight

Hello everyone! I’ve been seeing a lot of confusion about water weigh on ED tumblr, so let’s talk about it!

[DISCLAIMER: I’m not an expert, just spent some time researching and want to share what I found]

All my sources will be at the end of the post <3

So... What is it?

The term “water weight” (in terms of dieting) refers to the bloating you feel sometimes with seemingly no reason. This is also the most likely reason for your weight loss plateau (especially if you have been maintaining your calorie deficiency and macros).

Extra water is stored all over your body in tissue or between blood vessels, and tens to pool in your extremities. So if you wake up sometimes and feel like your hands are stiff and puffy, that’s why!

Here are some causes:

Dehydration!!

Too much salt

Carbs

Thanks! I Hate It.

Me too, so let’s talk about what we can do.

Dehydration:

This one seems super backwards, right? I mean, why does having MORE water in my body mean I might be dehydrated?

Well think of it like this; our bodies don’t know that we have access to water whenever we need it*. So when you are dehydrated, the body will hold onto all the water it can because it doesn’t know when you’re gonna find water next.

Here are some things you can do:

Drink up, try to be drinking water throughout the day. If you feel thirsty, then take a drink of water! 2-3L of water will ensure that you are well hydrated, but don’t push yourself. Take it slow and don’t make yourself sick <3

Eat your water! Add some more hydrated foods to your diet. Watermelon and cucumber are 2 great and low-cal examples!

Get those electrolytes! Losing too many of these bad bois can also cause dehydration. I like to get a bunch of 0 cal powerade to help with this but you can do whatever you like :)

Too much salt

This one is pretty self explanatory. Too much salt = more water retention. The salt will dehydrate and we’ve already talked about what dehydration does.

HOWEVER! Don’t think of salt as the enemy and attempt to cut it out completely! Sodium is a mineral our body uses everyday, so make sure you still include some salt in your diet.

Here are some things you can do:

Watch how much salt you consume! if you feel like you’re holding onto more water weight, it may just be due to consuming more salt yesterday that you’re body needed

Drink up! Hydrate yourself with some water!

Energy and Carbs

Have you noticed that after finishing a restrictive diet, you seem to gain back some weight very fast? Carbohydrates are the reason, but not for the reasons you may think.

So lets talk about Glycogen, one of the ways your body stores Carbohydrates. Glycogen is large molecule made up of a protein core surrounded by glucose. This stuff is stored in the liver and muscles, and is used during energy-intensive exercises, and for supporting the brain when food is scarce. This is because it’s a form of energy that the body can quickly metabolize.

The Glycogen molecule is bound to water molecules when in storage (think 1g of Glycogen = 3-4g of water). This means that when your body uses 1 gram of Glycogen, about 3 grams of water is released from the body.

It only takes a few days for all your Glycogen to be used up, and this is why your weight loss will seem dramatic at first! But once you start eating those Cabs again, your body rushes to replace all that missing Glycogen.

So all that water weight you lost will most likely come back as your body restores its energy stores. This is totally normal and a very good thing!!! But I know that it is also super frustrating so lets see what we can do

Don’t cut carbs completely! Carbohydrates are super important for your body to function, and having more carbs while you diet MIGHT help to mitigate the weight fluxuations when you lose and gain water weight.

Be kind to yourself, and expect this to happen. You’re ok, its not fat. be kind and stay hydrated, it’ll go away after a while.

Is there anything else I can do?

Actually yes! Have a cheat meal once in a while!! I mean it, having an occasional high calorie day helps you get rid of water weight.

There was a super cool study done during WWII about starvation diets that became known as the “Minnesota Starvation Experiment”. It’s about very low cal diets and what they do to the body.

The TLDR is that researchers fed participants low cal diets for low periods of time. But the participants didn’t weigh that much less, they were stuck in a plateau. BUT after a big high calorie day, the researchers noticed the participants getting up to pee a lot the following night. And the next day BOOM! Dramatic “weight loss” as all the water weight had been expelled the night before!

It’s a very cool study that I think you all should check out!

Conclusion

Be kind to yourself, stay hydrated, and plan cheat days. Water weight is a bit of a bitch but it’s completely normal and is not permanent.

Stay safe everyone!

Love, Dismal

Sources:

What’s water weight? (WebMD)

Science explains why you lose water weight (ThoughtCo)

What is water weight (kaylaitsines.com)

Water retention and weight loss (Southwest family medicine)

Bonus readings:

MN starvation experiment

Benefits of drinking water

Hydration and weight loss (scientific paper)

*I know not everyone has access to water, Educational Resource Here

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bonkusdonkus · 2 years

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I like bunny people! I grew up on series like Redwall, so woodland creature people have always had a special place in my heart. So when when rabbitfolk were announced as an official race, I was thrilled!

And I think WotC did a decent job, they’ve got some cool abilities, but they didn’t really give them any background or lore, or… Really anything, to be honest. If I recall correctly, the official flavor text more or less boiled down to “they’re bunny people from the Feywild who like freedom.” And that was basically it. Which is… Not particularly flavorful.

Still, I think the Harengon/Rabbitfolk have a lot of potential, so here’s a bunch of headcanons, ideas, and homebrews that I’ve got floating around my brain! Feel free to steal any you like for your own games, if ya wanna! Or don’t! It’s your call!

(Also, just a fair warning, I will probably be using Harengon and Rabbitfolk interchangeably, just so you know. They mean the same thing, just figured I’d say so so that people don’t think I’m sliding in a random sub race or something.)

Everybody knows that the Harengon have sharp hearing, those floppy ears aren’t just for show, but a lot of people fail to realize exactly how sharp. Most Rabbitfolk can easily hear through walls, pick out individual voices in a crowd, and hear the heartbeats of other beings. Some can even identify people by their individual heartbeats and breathing patterns, if they know the person well enough.

Harengon are native to the Feywild, and while many of them have left for more mundane places for one reason or another, a little bit of Fey weirdness tends to follow them wherever they go. Maybe they plant a rose, and then when it grows up it turns purple, maybe all the stray cats in their neighborhood are unusually friendly towards them, maybe when they hum a tune, if you listen closely you might hear someone playing along with a flute. Just, minor, harmless, magical weirdness. There’s no real rhyme or reason to it, it just happens sometimes.

Rabbitfolk live for hugs. They love hugging and being hugged. If you are friends with a Harengon, you will be hugged, sometimes with great force. Because these guys hop and jump everywhere, and sometimes they see a friend in need of hugging, and decide that the fastest way to achieve that goal is by jumping at them. So yeah, flying tackle hugs are very much on the table.

Much like Elves, who also originated from the Feywild, Harengon have an extended lifespan, about 500 years or so on average.

Despite being rabbit shaped, Rabbitfolk are not herbivores. Or at least, not completely. They have no problem eating animal products, like milk or eggs, and they have no problems with fish either, but red meat like beef or pork makes them very ill, and poultry isn’t much better. Weirdly enough though, they have no issues with reptile meat, and in fact even crave it. Lizard and turtle are beloved staples at many a Harengon table, and snakes? Oh, they LOVE snake! Grilled Python steak is considered a delicacy among Rabbitfolk, and deep-fried Adder meat is a must have treat at county fairs and festivals. Scholars have been scratching their heads for centuries over this bizarre biological phenomenon, but as is the case with many oddities from the Feywild, the best they can do is shrug and say “Eh, it’s fairy stuff, don’t question it.”(Side note, many Harengon call snake meat ‘sneef.’ I couldn’t think of anywhere else to say that, but I had to say it, so there you go.)

Speaking of food, Rabbitfolk have a high metabolism, so they tend to eat a lot more than most folk. Which might be a major reason why food is so important to their culture. For starters, the Harengon are always on the lookout for an excuse to throw a feast, even if it’s only with friends or family. Birthday? Feast! Just finished finals? Get the good silverware out, it’s time to eat! Just got back from a dangerous quest with your party? Celebrate still being alive by stuffing your face! Basically any excuse is a good excuse to eat a lot and have fun. Another big role food plays in their society is a display of trust and friendship. Buying/making someone a drink or a meal without payment or recompense of some kind is a big deal among Rabbitfolk. It’s a statement, both to the recipient and anyone who happens to be watching. It basically means: “This person is important to me, I care about their well being, and anyone who wants to get to them, will have to deal with me too.”

While they are exceptionally cute, the big floppy ears of the Rabbitfolk can be a bit bothersome during strenuous activity, flopping around and getting in the way. So a lot of folks tie them back with something like a hair tie or scrunchie when they’re out and about. Some Rabbitfolk with a bit more coin to sling around might have custom made hats, hoods, or veils to do the job and look a bit fancier while doing it.

Rabbitfolk culture takes things like oaths, promises, and commitments very seriously. Most scholars believe it’s a hold-over from their Feywild origins, where words have a frightening amount of power, and one slip of the tongue or misjudged phrase could spell disaster. Regardless of why, Harengon are raised to weigh every big commitment heavily before making a choice, examining every angle and detail, and when they finally make a decision, they are committed. When Harengon marry, it’s for life! If they sign a contract, they will carry it out the letter if it’s the last thing they do! If they promise to be your friend till the end, they aren’t being hyperbolic, they are by your side hell or high water, ride or die! So yeah, these are some very dedicated hippity hops. Mind you, they aren’t throwing around these promises all over the place, like I said, they’re very careful about it, and will call out anybody trying to swindle them.

Because of their sharp hearing, Rabbitfolk tend to be very in tune to the people around them. They aren’t full on empaths, but their generally pretty good at reading people’s emotions by paying attention to their breathing, heart rate, posture, etc.

Unsurprisingly, given their advanced hearing, Rabbitfolk love music. Since they can hear on a level that most humanoids couldn’t even imagine, it’s an almost euphoric experience for them. Imagine being able to see additional colors in a painting that no one else can, or see a beautiful sculpture in 4D. It’s a bit hard to describe, but I think you get the gist of it. Musicians are highly prized in their culture, and a lot of Harengon become Bards because of it.

Generally speaking, most Harengon don’t mind being called cute. They consider it a complement, really. But sometimes people assume ‘cute’ means ‘not worth taking seriously’ and that Rabbitfolk do take offense to, very much so. They especially hate being treated like dumb children, or even worse, baby talk. There is no phrase in all the planes that pisses off a Rabbitfolk faster than “Wittle Bunny Wabbit.” Some get so harassed, that they develop a little bit of a Napoleon Complex.

#harengon #rabbitfolk #d&d 5e #dnd homebrew #dnd headcanon #dnd races #d&d worldbuilding

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leonicscorpio · 3 years

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Batboy Headcanons because I made this for me but you all can enjoy this too if want. (May contain mild NSFW)

Dick:

Has a weird relationship with unwanted gaze and the attention he receives because of his physique. He genuinely likes the attention but he draws the line when people start getting touchy. Just because he's shirtless working out doesn't mean he gave you consent to touch him.

Has good dieting skills but he's in his mid-late 20's and his metabolism has 0 signs of slowing down. He once ate a whole xl bag of M&M's in front of Steph and Babs and both said they wanted to murder him because he won't gain a pound.

Dick has ADHD and I'm sorry if you don't think otherwise. He has hyperactive type ADHD and while he's gotten better at controlling his symptoms he still stims stretching and flexing his arms and shaking his arms.

While not so much in Gotham, Dick is very politically active and volunteers at voter registration and working with organizations with the mission of police demilitarization in Blüdhaven.

Dick is a very sexually driven individual. However, I don't think it's entirely healthy. His ADHD also comes into play with this but Dick just needs to have a release at least twice a day or he'll feel physically sick.

I don't know if you all have seen male gymnasts. But Dick, like the rest of them, has FREAKSISHLY large biceps. Everyone talks about Dick has the best ass in the bat family and while Jason may be larger and stronger, Dick has the best physique.

Dick's apartment is littered with sticky notes in places such as the fridge/in front of his computer. If it's not written down and in a place where he can't ignore it, it's not going to get done.

I'm sorry I know everyone says his birthday is in March but I have to go to the older Nightwing comics and say his Birthday is December 1st. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me this man doesn't give off Sagittarius energy. You can't. I respect you but you can't look at that and tell me that man isn't a Sagittarius or has super heavy Sag in his birth chart.

Dick's at home doing nothing but chilling? You best believe he's gonna be shirts off, tits out, and rocking some blue flannel PJ's.

Dick is currently the only member of the family asides from Barbara who is regularly attending therapy. And he actively encourages each of his brothers and sisters to go every time.

After his Agent 37 days. He sits down with Jason and talks about having to use a gun and how hard it was. And how having to kill people has affected him. When he had to kill the KGBeast (Agent 37 days he snapped his neck) I headcanon Dick just trauma v*mit*d. Jason hugged him and just consoled him.

It's canon that Dick has anger issues but to me, it's not explored or talked about enough and not a lot of people like to talk about it. Dick is very much the 'if I ignore it it'll go away' type when it comes to his anger and he can brush most insults or harassment off fine enough. But when he breaks, he makes Jason look like a saint. I'm talking slamming you into a wall and screaming in your face angry. He'll be profusely apologetic afterward but still.

Despite popular belief, I don't think he's that bad of a cook. He's just not very experimentative. He can follow a recipe and does look at some guides. But to me, Dick Grayson just is that guy who is like Chicken veggies and rice are a meal that I can cook 4-6 times a week.

Dick has a slight fear of dentists. He doesn't have bad teeth and has good dental health. He just doesn't like the idea of a drill going in his mouth and the few times Bruce has to take him to a dentist he had a panic attack every time.

Everyone lives for the fics where Jason beats the shit out of Tim and everyone is just like lol well Bruce and Dick just forgives him. No. When Dick found out it was Jason who beat Tim to the ground, Dick was literally seething and told Jason "Pick on someone your own size or else I'll make you wish you back in that f'ing coffin."

Dick's favorite foods (some based in Canon*): Milk Chocolate*, Cereal*, Asparagus, Bananas, Banana flavored candy, Hawaiian Pizza* (suffer its canon) Rum, thanksgiving Turkey.

Jason:

He may be the self-diagnosed black sheep (rightfully so) of the family, but Jason does genuinely love spending time with his siblings. Whether it be sharing memes with them on social media or just randomly showing up where they are and abducting them to go get ice cream/coffee/snacks.

He'd probably attempt to harm you if you told him this to his face. But he is the closest acting to Bruce out of all of the family. In terms of mannerisms and inherent warmth and kindness behind a dark façade.

Has two moods: either exceptionally, almost neat-freak levels of clean, or his life is completely falling apart and Jason can't tell you for sure what color his floors are because there's so much stuff scattered about.

Despite their initial hatred of each other, Jason truly feels closest to Tim and Tim is the only person asides from maybe Barbra who he can just talk to without feeling any judgment.

Jason only smokes when he's extremely nervous about an operation or a hit. For those who don't know criminal justice cigarettes are the fastest way to get genetic material on someone. That being said he does still like to smoke occasionally.

Me, plus a lot of people give him this sort of 'Lazarus Rage' as I like to call it. When he's in the heat of a mission or if he's getting upset/angry his vision will get blurred with green, and it feeds on his anger and just gets perpetually harder to contain until he releases it. Jason has gotten much better at controlling it. But as he will tell Tim or Babs, he's "seeing green" which means they need to be careful because Jason could kill.

Everyone says Dick is the mother hen. I see you, I accept you, but let me raise you. Jason came to realize that he died because of his rash decision to go after The Joker alone. If Jason finds any of his siblings out acting alone, or even at the very least without Oracle. Jason WILL forcefully interject himself and ask them what the fuck they think their doing.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Trying to get close to Jason is hard. He will degrade you can attempt to try to get you to hate him before he lets you in (that cheeky Tsun of him)

He genuinely cares for and supports all of his siblings but has been rough on them needlessly. But if Bruce is being the distant or absent parent he is, you better believe if any of the siblings drops him a text or a call, Jason will be there in a heartbeat.

He's the most physically powerful of the whole Bat Family. You don't understand because of his time in the League, his time with the All-Caste, and having abused Venom for a time, he can snap an arm bone like it's a carrot with little effort.

Everyone in the family likes dogs and goes out of their way to gush over a dog, but Jason takes it to a whole new level. And even when he's masked up dogs just gravitate to Jason.

Can and has grown a beard in a matter of a few days. He usually likes to be clean shaven but some days he likes to wear a beard just to throw everyone off.

One time him, Steph, Tim, and Duke all went to a restaurant (Red Robin lol) and the waitress got his order wrong and his burger had raw tomatoes on it, Jason took the tomatoes off and ate it while looking absolutely miserable. Tim: Jay why did you eat that you didn't have to you know you could have asked the server to fix your burger. Jason, almost in tears: "She works really hard and she tried and I'm a scary dude I don't want to make her upset.." Duke: "... Jason you literally shot at a cop for looking at you funny the other day. But you're afraid of upsetting a waitress?!? I mean ACAB but dude.. "

Jason's happiest big brother moment™ was taking Tim and Damian to the shooting range and watching them both get their first bullseye.

You can't tell me Jason Todd was into the Emo/Screamo/Warped-Tour Scene. His favorite bands/Albums in no particular order, That's the Spirit (Literally the whole album is Jason Themed and I'm gonna die on this hill) & Sempiternal by Bring me the Horizon, Digital Renegade & Everyone's Safe in the Treehouse by I See Stars, The Resistance: Rise of the Runaways by Crown the Empire,

Jason Todd's favorite foods: (Also some based in Canon*) Burgers, Chili Dogs*, Lager-style beers, Freshly baked bread*, Neopolitan ice cream, grilled corn, and Chinese Chicken noodle soup with Duck.

Tim:

This boy *slaps car roof* gives off so much asexual energy. I know New 52 exists but I just feel like Tim is the person who really, REALLY has to trust you and like you before he's sexually active with you.

HYPERFIXATES. You also can't tell me Tim isn't on the spectrum/or has ADHD.

Is the only member of the family who regularly checks up on Jason and talks to him every day via text message. The two are memelords together and love to play pranks on the other members.

While Dick may give the most frequent hugs and Jason gives the tightest, most secure hugs, Tim's hugs are always the warmest and make you just feel good.

Tim's birthday is July 19th. Meaning he's a Cancer. Let that sink in.. no, really let that information just soak. (Note I have nothing against Cancer women, cancer men however....)

All of the bat boys really struggle with talking about their feelings. Dick will manipulate you into changing the subject via twisting it to be about you, Jason will just cut you off or will ignore you, Damian will deflect everything and harass you until you stop, Tim however, Tim is very emotional and while he's very calculated about who he's emotional with, he's not afraid to break down and cry if he trusts you.

Everyone who says he's the level headed Robin haha how's it feel to be WRONG. Tim is at best the least functional college student and at worst a lemming. 'No Tim, coffee isn't a meal I'm going to make you some food or I'm going to stick you in a room with Damian for an hour.' Richard (Dick) John Grayson.

People overblow how addicted to caffeine Tim is. But it's true. Just overblown. You can talk to him before he's had his caffeine just don't expect him to be anything but curt and blunt.

Everyone says Jason would be the worst at texting but it's Tim. He's the master of leaving you on read. While Jason may do it on purpose, Tim is just really bad at texting people and while he always will read your messages he forgets to respond unless it's really funny or really pressing.

Everyone sees Tim as this bean pole super skinny boy Robin. Tim may not be stacked like Dick or a freaking tank like Jason, but Tim is NOT super skinny. He's just as muscular and likes to work out as anyone, but he just is super lean, so he looks a lot bigger and his muscles are more defined because of how thin his skin is. He has those almost disgusting spider veins on his arm. Kind of gross to look at, but he's the dream of any nurse. This means Tim is also the king of accidentally sending/posting thirst traps.

He really is the glue of the Bat Family. Everyone kidnaps Tim for 'Tim Time'.

Dick likes to spar with and in general just hang out with Tim. Tim tried to teach Dick how to skateboard and you'd think the boy who mastered the trapeze would know how to skateboard but you'd be wrong.

Babs and Tim always hang out and talk about computer stuff and Babs knows she can vent to Tim about anything and he won't say a word.

Tim and Steph were a thing for a while and even though they're just friends now, they still are very close and the two have a very deep bond, liking to shop with each other and watch movies,

Cass just loves to be around Tim because of how calming he is but also she knows she can spar with him AND Cass can also skateboard with Tim too.

Even though him and Damian are always fighting, the two still end up being together and have this unspoken bond. They work great together on a team but other than that they still hate each other.

And while everyone still is hesitant around Jason, and despite the fact that Jason literally beat Tim to within an inch of his life, AND would still trigger Tim and taunt him about it. The two have this odd closeness that rivals even him and Steph. Tim will always be the first to bat for Jason. Jason was Tim's Robin. And despite the fact Jason literally beat it into Tim's head to "never meet your heroes." Tim will always be there for Jason should he ask. The two are just close. And it's hard to describe. Bruce has caught Tim and Jason just platonically sleeping next to each other or just doing their own things shoulder to shoulder silently, just enjoying each other's company.

Tim and Duke also have a really positive relationship with one another and the two can stay up all night just talking about anything. Their minds just mesh well together. The two also love to team up and prank the other members of the Batman Family.

Tim's favorite ASMR/Stim? Watching those Tik Toks of people cleaning computers or cleaning phones. The sound of an air duster is like music to his ears and if any of the Bats need their technology cleaned it secretly makes Tim so happy to help them.

Wear his hair up or wear his hair down? It depends! While Tim likes his long hair he also has gotten plenty of compliments for his short hair and likes to style it to suit any occasion.

My one pet-peeve with Tim is that he probably is that person who lets his privilege show from time to time. While he was essentially raised to just sit down, shut up, and be a perfect trophy son to the Drake's. The Drake's were in the same tax bracket as Bruce and Tim definitely was a rich kid. He never means to come across as spoiled, but sometimes Jason will give him harsh looks if Tim just throws away food he doesn't like or says things like Chipotle is 'poor people food'

Tim Drake's favorite foods (you know by now*) Donuts*, Shallot and Artichoke Pizza with Canadian Bacon* (odd choice but it could work) Artichokes in general are his favorite vegetable, Strawberries, and Beef Pho.

Damian:

I headcanon that he has the worst teeth of all of the Bat Boys and he actually has to use lingual braces. (Hence why you can't see his braces)

Canonically is a very good artist and while him and Tim don't get along, Tim introduced Damian to digital art and gave him a photoshop pack and a nice tablet for his birthday one year and Damian loved it so much.

Damian is a capricorn and I will die on this hill. A January capricorn too.

Now you want a good chef? You've got Damian. Having converted to veganism Damian has had to get creative whenever he goes out to eat so he tends to like to eat more home cooked foods. Damian loves all matters of mushrooms, eggplant, and bell peppers.

Damian really struggles the most with his wanting to just be a normal kid. Despite the fact he will dismiss you for it, anytime he gets to spend at Gotham Academy with Jon and the rest of the kids he's naturally the happiest.

Damian LOVES to give gifts. He loves the look on people's faces when they are shocked when they actually get something from Damian.

Despite the fact that he's been traumatized from both his times with Ra's and Talia as well as with Bruce. He just wants Bruce and Talia to be together because he loves them both equally.

While he's the least flexible and least gymnastic of the Robins do let your guard down around him. He is the fastest runner and the guy is rivaled only by Jason in terms of lethality.

So someone (Jason Todd & Duke Thomas) introduced Damian to trap music and ever since anytime his phone gets stolen people will be shocked to find he's listening to some combination of Lil' Yachty, X, Kendrick Lamar, Wiz, and Kodak.

If any random person tries to hug Damian he'll immediately push them away, he'll bitch and moan about just about anyone hugging him other than Bruce & Dick.

Damian loves to go to the beach/the ocean. He just thinks it's so vast and he loves the brineness of the air. Also being half white, quarter middle-eastern and quarter Chinese (Yes everyone forgets Talia is half Chinese) Damian gets DARK. And although he's just okay as a swimmer he still likes bogeyboarding and eventually wants to learn how to surf.

I'm genuinely afraid once Puberty is done with this kid and everyone in the family is. He has Bruce Wayne AND Talia Al-Ghouls genes and those are two SEXY human beings. Damian's gonna grow a beard one day and people aren't going to know how to act.

Damian secretly plays Fortnight and not even Jon knows. He doesn't want to get shamed. He'd rather lose a match and ruin his streaks than deal with the shame of anyone in that family finding out he plays Fortnight.

Damian Wayne's favorite foods (canon*) Cereal*, Avocados, Grilled Tempeh, his mom's Tabbouleh, Mushroom Tacos, and Vegan Sushi rolls, and grape juice.

Duke Thomas

Duke is like, freakishly good with a piano, and he picked it up naturally!

Also everyone says Tim brews the best pot of coffee in the Bat Family, cue to everyone's surprise when Tim was sick one day and couldn't make a pot. Only to find the coffee was freaking amazing. Duke didn't take any credit at first until Alfred let it slip that Duke was the one who brewed the pot.

Duke being the only Meta of the family originally thought he was the double-token because he was a Meta and a black boy. Needless to say his fears were seriously unfounded the moment he got to know everyone.

Although he somewhat fears Jason and his temper initially, he and Jason have one of the closest relationships in the family. If Tim isn't around to bat for Jason, Duke will happily take his spot. The two work on each other's bikes and grew to share the same taste in music.

Duke uses his Photokenetic powers as a force for good and for shenanigans. Jason wants to play a prank on Dick and Damian while Dick is reading Damian a story? Duke will hide Jason in the shadows and will cover up his shadow. Alfred dropped something in the dark? You better believe Duke will find it in 3 seconds or less.

Duke makes it a point to visit his parents every weekend to talk to them. Although they are making some progress in their recoveries, it's still slow going. Eventually, he starts bringing members of the family to see his parents. It started with Cass, then Jason, and the rest followed suit.

Duke loves playing video games with Damian and even helps Damian beat some tougher levels when Damian is about to rage and destroy the console.

Duke is into Magic the Gathering and you cannot tell me otherwise. Duke also is the DM for the Bat Kids annual D&D games. I can and will make a D&D Batfam Headcanons if asked.

Loves Pho just as much as Cass and Tim and they all call it a date night every now and then where they can go to a hole in the wall pho place. It's really a secret between the three of them.

DUKE THOMAS IS THE BEST SWIMMER OF THE BAT BOYS AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. HE JUST THRIVES IN THE WATER.

Finding out his birth father is a supervillain was really tough for him. He went into a shell for a little bit afterwards. Cass and Steph were there to help talk him out of his funk.

Duke Thomas's favorite foods (lol what canon DC hasn't acknowleged our boy in a while..) Chicken Pho, Thai Iced Tea, Papaya, Crab Cakes, Italian Hoagies, his mom's Lemon Poundcake, mint chocolate chip ice cream.

I hope y'all enjoyed! Up next (eventually) will be the Bat Girls!

#Dick Grayson #Batfam #Batboys #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Duke Thomas #Bruce Wayne #Barbara Gordon #Cassandra Cain #Stephanie Brown #Headcanons #Slight OOC but hey If DC can't stay in character neither should I

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sugarstickery · 3 years

Text

An Allegory Within the Dark

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

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

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

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

An Allegory Within the Dark

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“⏁⊑⟒⟟⍀ ⎎⍜⋏⏁ ⟟⌇ ☊⎍⌇⏁⍜⋔”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it really?”

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

“Mm... No, you’re right, but...”

“But what? Spit it out.”

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

“Movies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Ah, hey— Where are you going?”

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

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

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

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

“But that Mahito...”

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

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

“⊑⏃⋏⏃⋔⟟”

“I already said shut up!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...What a waste.”

Everyone is bound by ostentatious shackles of their own making.

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

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

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

“Not bad.”

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

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

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

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

There’s a season that curses are partial to.

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

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

“Yeah, let’s stay here.”

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

But the shape of a soul was there.

—Ah, it’s alive.

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

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

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

Mahito thought it was a bit of a pain.

There was already a visitor living in his precious hideaway.

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

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

Whereupon, unexpectedly, the old man spoke.

“...I’m sorry if you’re displeased.”

“Hm?”

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

Mahito was a little taken aback.

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

But Mahito is a curse.

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

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

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

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

Even sorcerers rely on their eyes to view the world.

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

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

“Can you see me?”

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

“At the very least, I can feel you.”

“But you can’t see the world?”

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

“...Are you a sorcerer?”

“Most likely not.”

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

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

Mahito began to notice something strange.

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

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

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

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

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

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

No fancy ornamentation, no polishing. Unmoving, unwavering.

Calmly passing the time while growing moss.

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

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

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

But this old man was different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It provided a good environment for soothing the soul.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The suspicion was uttered suddenly.

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

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

“How long have you been here?”

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

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

“Don’t you get bored?”

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

“I’ve forgotten how to be bored.”

“How do you usually pass the time here?”

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

“The sounds?”

“The sounds of the water flowing.”

“...Is it fun?”

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

So it was like that. Mahito nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When is it a problem?”

“When it’s time to be buried.”

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

“Can’t you take a joke?”

“…Was that a joke?”

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

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

His interest in the old man simmered and surged.

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

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

And what kind of curse would be born from them?

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

“Why are you here?”

“…Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You lost it all?”

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

Mahito incidentally recalled the company Jogo attacked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love. Is it really such an important word?

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

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

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

“Not really.”

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

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

“...I get it.”

Mahito nodded, filling in the blanks.

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

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

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

The old man slowly shook his head.

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

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

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

The old man raised his face, following the memories.

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

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

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

The old man’s voice was calm.

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

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

“Even though you can’t see?”

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

Mahito blinked rapidly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were you a bookworm?”

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

“It’s good to be well-read.”

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

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

But he was calm.

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

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

Mahito looked back at his book.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mahito investigated the matter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Although...

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

Yes, Mahito thought it over at his leisure.

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

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

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

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

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

“—so damn annoying, yeah?”

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

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

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

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

“Sure. Ain’t like killing’s hard.”

“Seriously?”

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

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

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

Then maybe you should do it without saying anything.

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

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

“I’ll kill ‘em.”

The skinhead’s grumbling voice sounded like a spell.

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

Mahito averted his gaze and made his way back home.

“Why did Gregor become a bug?”

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

It was a famous book by Franz Kafka.

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

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

“Metaphor?”

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

“Is that a joke?”

“Not exactly.”

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

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

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

When do humans get angry? Why do they grieve?

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

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

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

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

“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time quietly flowed through the darkness.

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

The end came abruptly.

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

There were one, two, three swaying souls.

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

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

As expected, the old man was there.

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

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

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

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

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

“But ain’t this just impulsive?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you going to die?”

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

“...Seems so...”

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

He intently inspected the old man’s soul.

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

Mahito was impressed.

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

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

Nevertheless...

“Jii-san?”

He had a feeling.

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

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

That kind of buzz spread through Mahito’s chest.

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

“...I thought I would die alone.”

The old man’s soul dimly flickered.

A smile was on his swollen face.

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

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

The old man’s soul ‘metabolized’.

“...Tha...nk... y...”

The old man died smiling.

“. . .”

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

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

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

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

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

The old man was only human.

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

“. . .”

Mahito said nothing.

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

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

And suddenly, it all cut off at once.

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

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

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

“Yeah, well, that guy started it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sense of fatigue was deeply ingrained in his body.

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

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

Idle Transfiguration. The technique spreads quickly.

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

“Ee—!!”

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

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

“Begh—”

It fell silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mahito aimlessly walked about the city.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Curiously, he had that kind of a feeling.

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

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

He carelessly tossed some of them away.

Opening the door, he stepped into the theater.

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

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

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

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

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

#jujutsu kaisen #mahito #mahito jujutsu kaisen #mahito jjk #jogo jjk #hanami jjk #jujutsu kaisen light novel #translation #departing summer and returning autumn

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twistedtranslations · 4 years

Text

Rook Hunt - The real culprit is... you!

You can unlock this story by getting Rook’s SSR Dorm uniform

Translation under the cut

Rook calls Epel “himeringo”, the Japanese word for plumleaf crabapple. I shortened it.

As we know already, Epel sometimes slips in his country accent, hence the weird wording.

Chapter 1

Courtyard

Vil: …8…9…10! Next up is the camel pose. Push your chest out and lean your upper body backward. Hold your ankles with your hands and keep that pose.

Everyone: Yes!

Epel: Ugh… Rook…

Rook: What is it, monsieur Crabapple?

Epel: I came to help with the shooting of the next work of the cinema studies club, but… Argh! Why are we doing yoga… Ugh?

Rook: Epel, you know, it's because we wanted you to take part in relaxing activities. If people relaxed, they will become more flexible mentally, and more active in discussions and communication. Yoga is the best exercise to improve your blood flow, metabolism and it soothes your mind. Moreso, your posture and physique will become much more beautiful! That's why Vil does yoga before his cinema studies activities.

Epel: I, I see… Is there…. An easier method?

Rook: By the way, Epel. You should bend your back more if you want to call it a camel pose. Okay, I will help you out and pull your arms back!

Epel: Eh, no, I'm fine- OUCH!!!!

Rook: Hahaha, monsieur Crabapple, you're body is quite stiff.

Savanaclaw Student A: Hey, look, it's the guys from the cinema studies. What a weird-looking pose is that! Man, I'd be way too embarrassed to wriggle like that in front of everyone.

Cinema studies Student A: Why are you guys butting in suddenly? This is just yoga…

Cinema studies Student B: Leave it be. Those muscle brains from Savanaclaw wouldn't understand our graceful bodybuilding.

Savanaclaw Student B: Huh? Are you picking a fight!

Rook: Oh please, there's no need to get angry! Why don't you join us? We can polish our beauty and deepen our friendship with yoga!

Savanaclaw Student A: Who'd do that! Beauty won't fill your belly. C'mon, let's go.

Epel: … friggin' irritatin'. Rook, I don't know how or why you could invite those guys…

Rook: I thought they might understand the benefits of yoga if they did it. How regrettable. Oh, me of all people! While I was talking, I forgot to help you out. My bad, let's continue.

Epel; Um, no, I don't need it… OUCH!!!!

Vil: Epel?

Epel: Ah… Vil.

Vil: I thought I heard a crushed frog's ugly cry, but that was my imagination, wasn't it?

Epel: Ugh… I'm sorry, I'll pay attention to it.

Vil: Rook, I think there will be no problems if you are by his side but… If anything happens, I hope you will "properly" discipline him. Not only does he lack in manners and aesthetics, but many other facets as well.

Epel: Is… that so?

Vil: Didn't you get frustrated when the Savanaclaw students reprimanded you? Do not involve Pomefiore in trivial arguments. Understood?

Epel: Understood…

Vil: Rook. If Epel quarrels with other dorm students during the shooting period… I will expel you two from the cinema studies- no, the dorm.

Epel: … I'm only here because you asked me to help.

Vil: Did you say anything?

Epel: Nuthin’- I mean, I said nothing.

Vil: In any case. Please refrain from idiotic behavior that could tarnish Pomefiore's name.

Rook: Oui, Roi du Poison. Leave it to me!

Cinema studies Student A: Those three seem to get along well as usual…

Cinema studies Student C: Epel and Rook are amazing. Leaving out the fact that they're from the same dorm, they can talk to Vil so casually. Perhaps I'm still too nervous because I saw him on the TV and in magazines before I entered the college?

Cinema studies Student A: Right. They're amazing for being able to to talk with him without constraints.

Interior Hallway

The next day

Epel: Ah, Rook.

Rook: Hello, Epel. You're here early.

Epel: Yes. My class finished early…

Students: Congratulations!

Rook: You guys too… We are the most enthusiastic people in the club today.

Classroom

Rook: Vil isn't here today because of work, therefore I will instruct you on the activities…

Cinema Studies B: … Is something wrong?

Rook: La vache (Oh the cow)… how terrible. Look at that.

Epel: Argh! Vil's clothes are torn into pieces!?

Cinema studies Student A: And it's not only his clothes but also the photo sets on the wall…

Everyone: !!

Epel: The heck, what are those weird words written in red…

Rook: "A defective beauty"… It must be a message from the one who tore up the clothes. Fufu, this is quite a case… And a direct declaration of war on us!!

Chapter 2

Classroom

Rook: Fufu, this is quite a case… And a direct declaration of war on us!!

Epel: Is there anyone in the cinema studies club who’d tear up his clothes with ill intent…? Who would do that…

Cinema studies Student A: Hey, those marks on those ripped clothes… Don't they look like they've been made by sharp claws?

Cinema studies Student B: Claws… Then this could be the work of the Savanaclaw students. But why would they…

Cinema studies Student A: … Could it be those guys from yesterday?

Epel: Do you mean the ones who made fun of us..?

Cinema studies Student A: Yeah. The guys from Savanaclaw said it then, right? "Beauty" won't fill your belly.

Cinema studies Student B: So a Savanaclaw student with a grudge from yesterday wrote a message on the wall and tore up Vil's clothes?

Epel: If they didn't like it, they can face us up front. This is cowardly.

Cinema studies Student A: Epel, you are a good person. Even though you aren't part of the cinema club, you still get angry for us.

Epel: I ain't forgivin' them for goin' behind our backs… I mean, we cannot allow them to do this.

Cinema studies Student C: Yeah. We won't stay quiet about these precious clothes being destroyed!

Epel: Yeah! Let's search for those guys from yesterday and have'm complain to our face!

Everyone: Yeah!

Cinema studies Student A: Hey, wait everyone- ... And they went.

Rook: Oho, everyone seems very passionate.

Cinema studies Student A: Rook, are you not following them?

Rook: The sadness of losing such a beautiful thing stunned me for a moment.

Cinema studies Student A: … I see. I'll stop Epel and the others.

Rook: Oh my, to be in such a situation on the day Vil isn't here. Or to be more precise, "because he isn't here". Moreso… "A defective beauty". I should solve this case before Vil returns.

Rook: I should investigate to see if I can find evidence that links to the culprit. Let's start at the place where the fabric was torn. …As I expected. It's not a scratch even though it resembles one. They used 25 cm long scissors with 9 cm long blades to cut it. From the angle of the tears, I can guess that the culprit is right-handed. They held it with their left hand by the torso and used their right hand to cut from the shoulder to the waist with the scissors…

Rook: The culprit is probably around 168-172 cm. That narrows it down a bit! Fufufu… Even though I've experienced the hunt for an animal's traces many times, it still elates me. Oho, I can't let myself get carried away. I have to concentrate on the investigation… … Aha. I see… Fufu, I have deduced the animal. Now it's hunting time!

Courtyard

Savanaclaw Student A: Shut up! We didn't do it. Who gives a shit about your clothes!

Epel: If there's anythin' you wanted to say, tell 's up front instead of harassin'… you're so unmanly, senior.

Savanclaw Student A: What!?

Cinema studies Student B: If we cannot agree and don't progress then… We will have a duel!!!!

Savanaclaw Student B: Hah, come at me. I don't think you culture boys will be much of an opponent though.

Everyone: HAAAAH!!

/Fighting sounds

???: Stop it!

Savanaclaw Student A: Huh…

Cinema studies Student A: All our magic was swept away!?

Epel: Rook!?

Rook: Turn your magical pen in, everyone. It's forbidden to use magic for your personal struggles. Besides, you’re in the wrong by blaming them. They have nothing to do with what happened.

Epel: Huh…

Savanaclaw Student B: Pf! You got us involved in some weird stuff. We did nothin' so we're off.

Cinema studies Student B: … How foolish! If they didn't do it, then please tell us who did such a horrible thing!

Rook: The cause of this tragedy is deep love. The real culprit is… You!

Chapter 3

Rook: The cause of this tragedy is deep love. The real culprit is… You!

Courtyard

Cinema studies Student B/Epel: Huh…

Cinema studies Student C/D: No way…

Cinema studies Student A: …

Cinema studies Student B: He can't be the culprit, Rook! He's the costumer of the cinema studies club!?

Cinema studies Student A: That's right. You saw it, right? That "A Defective beauty", what a disgusting and criminal declaration!!

Rook: Yes, I saw it. That felt out of place. As the Savanclaw students said, they don't only not care , but even negate the very existence of "beauty". Despite that, do you think they would use an eloquent expression like "Defective"? While I was thinking about that, I inspected the garment that seemed to be torn apart by claws carefully.. And followed the clues to you.

Cinema studies Student A: Why… Me?

Rook: The scratches on the garments. They were cut by scissors in the shape of a beast's talons. And by examining the traces of your cut, I could deduce their height and their dominant arm, which happens to concur with yours. And there's more evidence. What I hold in my hand right now is a piece cut from the garments… Look at the lining?

Epel: The lining? What's wrong with it?

Rook: It's loosely sewn. This garment hasn't been used once for a photoshoot, and it's not the only part that doesn't harmonize well on the camera… Vil is the kind of person who strives for perfect quality from the fabric to the sewing and the accessories. He wouldn't have let this shoddy tailoring pass.

Epel: Um, so someone tore up the garments of the cinema studies club. But it was a fake, and not the real one…? I, I'm confused.

Rook: He hesitated at the moment of the crime when he was about to tear Vil's clothes, so he replaced it with a fake. The essential part is that the fake was made intending to fit Vil perfectly. There are only two people besides Vil that know his measurements exactly. The first one is me. And the other one is…

Epel: The costumer… who is in charge of taking his measurements?

Cinema studies Student A: Ugh…

Rook: I suggest you don't make more excuses now. Won't you tell us your reason?

Cinema studies Student A: I-, I did it because… I was jealous! You and Epel get along great with the esteemed Vil!

Epel: Huh! You think we're getting along great? The only thing he does is scold me though…

Cinema studies Student A: That's plenty! I admire Vil, studied what he likes, and devoted myself with all my might to the cinema studies club! Even so, I never got any closer to him since I enrolled! So I tried to make you two fight the other dorms… and have you expelled from the cinema studies club.

Epel: Well ain't you a peach…

Cinema studies Student A: … I'm sorry for causing an inconvenience to everyone in the club. I'll take responsibility and quit the club.

Rook: Quit the club? Non!! That would be outrageous, my dear costumer!

Everyone: Huh!?

Cinema studies Student A: W-Why…

Rook: This case. His love for Vil created and destroyed it. Thus… Love only won't make you able to finish a piece that can be mistaken for the real thing. The way your fingers assembled this with thread and needle, it's actually beautiful. If the cinema studies club were to lose a talent like yours, Vil wouldn't be pleased. Your atonement will be your contributions to the club.

Cinema studies Student B: It's just as Rook says. You are the best out of us at dressmaking, if you weren't here it would stump us. Come on, let's go back to the clubroom. Let's repair this garment before Vil comes back from his work!

Cinema studies Student A: ! Y-Yes!!

Rook: Okay! That settles one case.

Epel: Rook! That was splendid. You are so observant, to tell it's a counterfeit just by the seams.

Rook: Ah. That was a lie! No one hand-sews anything these times. They all use a sewing machine. You can't see that with the naked eye, right? It was a trick.

Epel: Huh… Huuuh!? Then how did you know it was a fake?

Rook: Fufufu, the truth is much simpler. Smell. The counterfeit clothes didn't have a single atom of the characteristic and unique mellow fragrance that Vil has, so I knew immediately.

Epel: What!? That investigation method is kinda… gross, you know?

Rook: Listen, Epel. I regard the information you can get by smelling highly, as it's useful for hunting. You can know the places one visited or in this case, the person's characteristics, by the traces of their smell. For example… sniff sniff. What you had for lunch today-

Epel: Argh!? S-Stop this!

Rook: Hahaha! Just kidding. My nose isn't that good either.

Epel: I thought you were amazing like a detective, but… maybe you're really just a weirdo.

#twisted wonderland #epel felmier #rook hunt #vil schoenheit #translation #personal story

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whattimeisitintokyo · 2 years

Text

Tiger and Bunny Season 2- The Good and the Bad

The Good

1. New Heroes

Yeah, it tends to restrict the amount of screen-time a lot of our old favorites get, but this is a reality TV show and new cast members are expected to come in. At least no one got fired to make room for the new. And it leaves a large groupe with an even number of heroes, which leads toooo-

2. The Buddy System

Obviously a show gimmick that was brought on due to the success of Wild Tiger and Barnaby, but it adds to the relationships between the heroes. Former rivals now paired up in an order you'd least expect: Sky High and Fire Emblem? Blue Rose and Golden Ryan?

It goes from them being kind of awkward around each other while trying to form a good system of teamwork out in the field, to genuinely caring about each other and learning new stuff about them that they had never known before.

3. Chubby Agnes

Why did she gain weight? I dunno.

Maybe she's depressed, maybe she's just more comfortable with eating more, maybe she's got a new beau who loves to cook, maybe it's because she's getting older and her metabolism isn't as strong as it was (I don't know her age).

I remember that the creator originally didn't want her to be the standard beauty, maybe he's finally getting his wish? Or maybe there is no reason and it's just the scientific fact that weight fluctuates all the time.

I'm sure they'll explain it once the second half of the season comes, but for right now there doesn't need to be a reason. She's still the same Agnes who's great at her job and obsessed with ratings.

4. Fugan and Mugan

God, they were creepy. They seemed to be age appropriate kids back in their youth, but I guess being raised by Ouroboros really stunts your emotional growth.

5. ROCK BISON

FINALLY he is treated like an actual veteran super hero and not like a joke side character. He is still a bumbling alky, yeah, but he has wisdom and courage and kept the younger heroes out of harms way by throwing them off a skyscraper.

And he brought everyone burritos. That's a plus one in my book.

6. Golden Ryan

How does a cocky, fame-hungry hero feel after being hurt and betrayed by their own teammates? A lot more humbly, I must say.

After The Rising, Ryan was bought by some billionaire to be a part of his own super-hero team. It did not go well and now he is back in Sternbild as Blue Rose's partner. The very thought of being abandoned again when he thinks Karina wants to be Kotetsu's partner actually brings tears to his eyes, the poor thing.

I liked cocky Ryan from before, and I like annoying older brother Ryan as well.

THE BAD

1. Mr. Black

I'M A GOOD HERO! NOTICE ME, LISTEN TO MY ADVISE. I'M THE BEST, I DESERVE THE SPOTLIGHT!!!!

No.

You've damaged yourself enough both in-universe and with me, you're gonna need to do a lot more to make up for it. Or else you can make like a Subaru and ride on out of here.

2. Too cutesy

The more I look back on the first season as well, I just don't feel like the slice-of-life storylines fit in well with a crime-fighting show.

Yes, people have normal lives outside of their much grimmer working environment, but which storyline would you rather follow in a superhero show that's built on action and suspense?

A. Ouroboros returning, twin NEXTS are exterminating heroes and illegal drug manufacturing.

B. You made fun of my name, WAAH!

These cutesy stories made up for half of the whole chunk of episodes. I get it's to establish new relationships, but the conflicts are so petty and easy to resolve for even children, let alone professional heroes.

It also clashes in tone with the VERY graphic and bloody finale, in my opinion.

3. Toilet Paper Small Breeze

This moment was so baffling stupid that I had to pause the show and question, "Why are these adult men arguing over something so silly?!" and "Did I seriously wait 11 years for this quality dialogue?"

Also, Ivan? The name doesn't really flow off the tongue, dear.

4. The Animation

I was iffy about the CG costumes for the first season (especially Fire Emblem), but now they use CG costumes for the girls and Fugan and Mugan? *gag*

And not all the time too. One second they're 2D, and the next they're 3D. I think it's fine to use the CG models for fight scenes, but sometimes they're being used for simple dialogue shots. It's jarring.

But I guess it's better than the chicken scratch 2D that some scenes had. This was an issue in the first season, but it's been 11 years since then and you've had years since the announcement of the new season to work on it! And nothing has been improved!

I know animation is hard, but more time should have been put in polishing and cleanup.

5. Barely any Tiger and Bunny

Most of this half of the season was either them standing off to the side commentating on the new partnerships around them fumbling, trying and failing to go out on a date go get drinks, and Barnaby being in a coma for 10 days.

Here's hoping that they get more focus in their own show for the rest of the season, and I hope Kotetsu watered Barnaby's jungle plants during his time in the hospital.

#tiger and bunny #tiger and bunny 2

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burning-omen · 3 years

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Peace Was Never An Option

Request by @salc0re: aa, hi! I just read some your xmen stuff and it's so good! I was wondering if I could request something with needy Peter Maximoff but reader is busy and has been ignoring himso he's basically been irrating and teasing them all day? Smut or fluff, I don't mind! Thanks xx

Summary: Reader needs to work but Peter needs attention

Peter Maximoff x Male!Reader

Warning: Fluff with a lil angst

Peter wasn’t easily frustrated- Well, that’s not true at all but he isn’t usually easy to push to a point of extreme frustration.

He loves you, so he tries to be patient when you're working out of basic respect but after not saying a word to you for three days he didn’t think he could handle being separated from you any longer. So he went out and searched for you.

Running all throughout X-mansion before finally finding you in the infirmary, bandaging Remy’s left arm, an abundance of minorly hurt X-Men standing in a loose line all leading to the desk you and Remy were both leaning on. You looked up at him for a moment, flashing a brief smile before looking back down. You pushed the gauze down gently, making it stick to itself. Remy winced a bit, pulling his arm to himself quickly.

“Sorry, just making sure it stays..” you told him, patting him on the shoulder as he stood up and walked away.

Muttering a quick “Hey Peter,” as he slid passed him by the door.

Peter only hummed in response. Leaning against the door frame, his cheeks a bright red color as he watched you greet Scott as he sat leaned next to you, telling you about the stitches on his side coming undone again.

He grew more and more frustrated the longer Scott spoke to you. Peter doesn’t think he’s the possessive type but it’s been days. You’re talking to people you hardly know(that’s not true, you’re very accustomed to almost all of the X-men.) more than you’re talking to your own boyfriend. And he oh so desperately wanted to pull you away for his own selfish needs but you were busy and people were hurt.

So he watched as you took patient after patient, writing something he couldn’t see on a paper in between.

By the time you were done he was sitting on the ground with him back against the wall, staring lazily at you as you walked Bobby to the door, telling him to be more careful next time. He nodded, glancing down at Peter then up at you before leaving, closing the door behind him.

Peter stood in a moment, wrapping his arms around you quickly and resting his head on your shoulder.

“(Y/n), I missed you…” he mumbled quietly.

You smiled down at him, hugging him back tightly.

“I know I’ve been...absent lately, I’ve just been busy. I still am, I have a shit ton of paperwork to fill out-” you heard him groan into your shoulder, gently hitting his head against it. “-I know, it’ll only take a few minutes, 30 at the very most, can you wait a little bit longer? Please?”

He groaned again. Holding onto you tightly but not saying a word as he relaxed against you.

After a few seconds of quietly holding each other he spoke.

“Maybe… but I’m not going to make this easy for you!”

You grinned down at him, giving him a quick peck on the lips before letting him go and walking back to your seat. Peter followed after you, sitting on the floor next to you while resting his head on your thigh.

“Really, Peter?”

He nodded, gesturing for you to continue your work.

You rolled your eyes with a soft smile then looked to the list of names you’d created while helping the others. You needed to take a note about what was wrong with each of them so it could go in their files. Before you could even start the first one you felt a quick jolt against your leg, meaning Peter had gone, done something, and came back all in less than a second.

“Peter?”

He just hummed against your thigh.

“What did you do?”

“Just a little something to the cameras…”

The security cameras, they were in every public room, including this one. You looked up at the only to see them both horribly wrapped with bandages. You groaned then looked down at Peter, who was grinning up at you.

“Peter, I need those..”

He let out a quiet laugh but, surprisingly, said nothing.

You continued working, looking at the first name on your list.

‘Kurt Wagner: Sprain tail???’

You wrote down the things he told you and what you did to help on a blank sheet of paper before sitting it to the side. You repeated this process for the next 5 names and would have kept going if Peter hadn’t interrupted.

He stood suddenly, not saying a word as he turned to you. Before you could ask him what’s wrong he was in your lap, his arms and legs wrapped around your torso as he gripped your lab coat tightly. Only letting go for a quick moment to pull your coat farther around both of you. Not so effectively hiding himself in it. You could hear him giggling to himself.

He was warm, he always was. No matter where you are or what you’re doing, Peter was always warm. Sometimes unreasonably so. But not now. You missed him, a lot. You wanted to push your work to the side and just be with him but you couldn’t, you had to do the work now or you wouldn’t do it at all.

So instead of giving in to his warm embrace you readjusted so you could keep working. You could feel it, his unbridled frustration. Even though you couldn’t see him you knew he was doing his cute little angry face at you.

You got through a few more names like that, but his peace didn’t last long, especially when he was being ignored.

You didn’t get a chance to react to the frustrated groan he gave before you were suddenly being touched. Peter reached under your shirt and gently drew little circles on your back, then your sides but stopped at your chest. Placing his hand flat on you before slowly dragging it downward.

“Peter, baby, I’m still working..”

He placed a kiss in the center of your chest, the tips of his fingers tracing, just barely dipping under, your waistband. He pulled back, still holding your shirt up with one of his hands. He sighed softly, looking up at you with a flicker of desperation in his eyes.

“Come on, Y/n.” He muttered before leaving a long trail of kisses and small bites on your chest.

“Peter, just give me a few more minutes and I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

He sighed again, dropping your shirt and laying his head on your chest. He yanked your lab coat back closed, hiding himself again. You started writing again, Peter lightly tapping his feet against your back from the strange position he’d gotten himself into under your coat. When you were finally done you leaned back in your chair. Pulling your coat open you looked down at Peter and, just as you thought he would, he stared up at you with a clearly frustrated face. You grinned down at him, which only upset him further.

“Stop it..” he muttered, turning to hide his face in your shirt.

“You wanted my attention and now that I’m done, you have it.”

Peter immediately perked up, pulling back to look at you, a wide grin breaking out on his face.

“Really?”

You nodded and his smile only got wider.

“No secret, surprise extra work you’re not telling me about?”

“None, I’m yours and yours alone for the next few days.”

The way his face lit up when you told him that would stay in your mind for a very, very long time.

Hank would be taking over for you while you took a short break from doctoring to relax and spend some more time with Peter.

You hooked your arm under him and lifted him up as you stood. He was light, which was mildly concerning seeing as he definitely wasn’t this light last time you picked him up.

“You haven’t been keeping up with your metabolism, have you?” you muttered quietly in his ear.

He laid his head on your shoulder

“I’ve been busy.”

“Oh really? Busy doing what?”

‘Laying around your room, waiting for you to come back’

“...Nothing important..”

By the time you carried Peter back to your room (much to his embarrassment) you were ready to drop. Being one of the X-men’s only doctors was a tiring job and after having to sit in an uncomfortable and cheap desk chair the entire time you figured you were done for the day.

Kicking the door closed behind you, walked over to your shared bed and dropped him on it. You watched him squirm and roll around for a moment, he’d semi effectively covered himself up. You sighed, letting yourself fall forward, landing next to him on the bed.

After a few moments of silence passed you turned to him, resting your head on your hand.

“So..you wanna talk about what happened today?”

He turned to you, a confused look on his face.

“What happened?”

“You don’t usually mess with me while I’m at work. What changed today?”

Peter may be a troublemaker but he knew not to bother you at work. He knew he should’ve bothered you today, but he did despite his better judgment.

“I just…” he took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before speaking. “...I missed you. A lot.”

“Peter, I could be standing right next to you and you’d miss me..”

“No! Not like how I normally miss you! Recently it’s just felt like work has been the most important thing to you. You work all day and when you come home you're too tired to even talk to me. It’s like you're not even here…”

He stopped, pulling his cover over his head with a frustrated groan.

“Peter…”

He didn’t respond.

You moved so that you could wrap your arms around him, pulling him on top of you, you held him tightly.

“Baby, can you hear me?”

You saw the cover he’d swaddled himself in move in a way that looked like a nod.

“Okay, I know I haven’t said this enough recently but you are the most important thing in my life. You mean more to me than anything else in this world and on any other world out there. I know I’ve been busy and I know I haven’t been talking to you, it's why I’m taking some time off. I want to be here with you. I’m going to try and take a few less hours, alright? I’ll be less tired that way and I’ll have more free time. Then I swear that I’ll show you how much I love you.”

You felt Peter move on top of you. He stuck his head out of the blanket, staring back at you with a soft smile.

“Promise?”

You held up you hand, holding out you pinky to him.

He gasped dramatically.

“Pinky promise!?”

“Yes, this pinky is for you.”

He laughed. Wrapping his pinky around yours and shaking them before letting go.

“Now you have to, or I’ll bite off your pinky!”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Bet!”

With that he attempted to attack your hand, his attempts soon turned into a tickling-with-a-dash-of-biting fight which ended with all of you pillows and covers on the floor and you and Peter giggling happily at each other.

After you’d settled down you’d turned back to Peter, when he looked over at you you took this as an opportunity. Cupping his cheek gently you pulled him closer, laying a soft kiss on his lips. He kissed back, Finn feeling that gentle happiness he’d been kissing rise in his chest as he kissed you, again and again and again.

He felt content, and loved.

And after a moment of silently holding each other you asked him a question.

“So why did you cover the cameras in my office?”

He laughed. “I really, really didn’t want whoever was on security to see me attempt and seduce you into coming home with me..”

“Oh, and here I thought you were completely shameless.”

“I am...sometimes..”

“Yeah, I know..”

He sighed happily, finally settling in your arms.

After a long moment of silence he’d drifted off to sleep, you followed soon after.

#peter maximoff #Peter Maximoff x male!reader #quicksilver #quicksilver x male!reader #x male reader #male reader #fluff #mutant reader #X-men x male!reader #X-men #marvel #doctor!reader

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tonystarkissist · 3 years

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Teamwork / Manipulation - Villainous July

Part 7 of “Oh Sweet Child, The Things I’d Do for You...”

Summary: Stark has some questions, and so does Peter. However Tony's answers only lead to more questions.

Rating: Teen (For language and Thematic Material)

Word Count: 3.9k

Previous Chapter ~ Masterlist ~ Read on Ao3 ~ Next Chapter

Peter’s awoken by a sharp pain registering at the back of his head, and the throb of a migraine aching through his entire skull. It stings and without any thought to control his instinctive responses, he releases a pained whine and shifts slightly against the soft cushions beneath him.

He forces himself to open his eyes just a smidge so he could at least case his surroundings because this did not feel like his room back at Beck’s house. For one, he couldn’t sense the familiar pungent scent of alcohol wafting up from the floor below him, which never failed to greet him every morning. But what he does see is a tall glass of water and a simple plate of scrambled eggs placed on a coffee table in front of the couch he had apparently fallen asleep on.

“Wha?” He slowly begins to prop himself up on his elbows, muscles feeling weak, and bones aching against the pressure. He squints his eyes and lifts a hand to place over his pounding skull and groans once more.

“Take it easy. You took quite a beating last night, kid.”

At the sudden voice, Peter’s awareness perks and he sits up just a bit too quickly, on alert, and instantly his head begins to spin.

A displeased scoff emitted from the same place as the voice from moments ago. “What did I just say?”

The spinning stops just in time for Peter to look up and meet the blue eyes of the devil himself and he shuffles away in a panic, no longer bothered by the harsh ache spreading over his entire body.

“Don’t look at me like that.” The man doesn’t even look at him as he says it, and instead reaches out to grab the glass of water still resting on the coffee table, holding it out towards Peter. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it already. Now drink, and eat, and then I’ll give you some ibuprofen for that headache.”

Peter holds the glass when it's shoved into his hand. He thinks he still might be in shock. He tries to remember last night, and it comes back to him in slow bursts. Tony saved him… Tony got hurt because of him… Tony fixed him. And now Tony knew who he was. The small blurbs give him just enough confidence to actually open his mouth and speak.

“It won’ work,” he slurs slowly before lifting the glass to take a tentative sip.

Tony’s already walking away again, moving towards what Peter assumes to be the kitchen, judging by the bar counter now blocking the man’s lower half from view.

“I know you’ve got an enhanced metabolism, Spidey. They don’t call me a genius for nothin’. I’ve got stuff that’s a bit stronger than your usual Advil. It should work.” He begins rummaging through a cabinet above, and Peter watches him carefully.

“Why do you have it?”As always, Peter’s curiosity wins out over his shyness and confusion. The answer could very well lead back to the man’s display of inhuman abilities. Perhaps he was enhanced as well...

Tony found what he needed. He pulls out a small bottle and begins examining the label as he speaks. “I have an enhanced metabolism too.” Hit the nail right on the head. “It used to be stronger a few years ago, since I’ve done so much tampering with it lately.” He moves back towards Peter and places the bottle beside the plate of eggs. “Take two,” he pushes the eggs closer, “but eggs first.” Then he’s moving away again, this time in the opposite direction and Peter turns to follow his form.

He was moving towards the wall of shades hiding the windows behind it. Already, Peter could see the morning light beginning to peek through cracks of the drawn curtains, shining just enough light into the space that the area was at least visible.

Then, suddenly, without any warning the drapes are pulled back and Peter releases an annoyed hiss, covering his eyes with his hand, recoiling further into the cushions of the couch. He could hear Tony laugh then do the same with the next set of drapes, casting even more light into the once dark room.

“You’re not part vampire are you? I know you only go out at night, but I never considered that to be the reason.” The man was laughing as he spoke and Peter knew he was joking to try and get a laugh out of him, but the light was so bright and he couldn't help but begin to wonder how late in the morning it was for the sun to be shining damned bright.

Eventually he risks opening his eyes, squinting against the sharp sting as the light hits his eyes. He reaches for the plate of eggs so he could eat them and get those darned pills into his system as quickly as possible. And just when his first forkul is about to enter his mouth, he looks up, halts in utter shock, and the fork promptly falls from his hand.

“Oh my god,” he whispers as the fork clatters on the plate. From what he had seen of the outside of this building he was totally expecting some hill-billy hobo-esque decor, but now with the light to properly illuminate every square inch, the place was borderline luxurious. By far the fanciest place he’d ever stepped foot into.

The furniture was all colored in browns and whites, and the fireplace was carved out of a beautiful marble wall extending all the way from the wooden floors to the top of the high ceilings. The only thing that made it look like it hadn’t been ripped out of some luxury home magazine was the clutter spread through the space.

“I thought- I thought you couldn’t…” Peter’s words got caught tight in his throat as he continued to balk. “How did you even-- Did you rob a bank?!”

That probably wasn’t the best accusation, but it slipped from his mouth before he could bother to filter it. Luckily, Tony didn’t take any offense, and he moved to join him on the couch with his own plateful of eggs. Instead, he actually laughed. “Not exactly, but there are definitely perks to having a skewed moral compass, Pete. Also, you know, I used to be a billionaire genius, not an idiot. I grabbed my cash when I planned to go AWOL.”

“Wow,” was all Peter managed to say in return. “This isn’t even half of it,” Tony brags, “my workshop is downstairs, and so is the movie room and library.

Oh, what Peter wouldn’t give to see Tony Stark’s workshop. He may have some underlying issues with the man, but he was a nerd at heart, and he wouldn’t give up such an opportunity if it was offered to him.

He must’ve sat there daydreaming for a while. He felt Tony nudge the fork back into his hand. “C’mon, eat. You’re malnourished and dehydrated. If you want those funky healing powers of yours to kick in you better start chowing down.”

Peter wrinkles his nose, rebelliously. Everything in him wanted to ignore the man and his instructions, because, one, he wasn’t the one in charge of Peter, and two… he was a maniac and Peter definitely should never listen to him. But… he was hungry, and the eggs did look delicious.

And he was right. Those eggs were amazing. Perfectly fluffy and salty, with a small tang of something else in there too.

They sat in silence for several minutes while they both ate their breakfast. Tony kept offering to refill Peter’s plate when he would finish, and Peter had the nerve to humbly decline each time, fearing in the back of his mind that Stark planned to tamper with his food. Tony didn’t take no for an answer though and always returned with his plate piled full of eggs and toast, and Peter, of course, didn’t want to waste any food. Not when he was still so hungry. And like the man had said before… if he truly wanted to hurt Peter, he’d have done it while he slept on his couch, not when he was nearing full strength once again now that there was food in his belly and sleep to clear his head.

“Do you drink coffee?” Tony asks out of nowhere, leaning back into the couch. “No, of course you don’t drink coffee. You’re what? Sixteen? Too young for coffee.” Peter didn’t take the bait. He wasn’t stupid. He knows what the man was trying to do. So, he just shrugged in an easy dismissal of the question, and continued eating, revelling at the feeling of his stomach finally beginning to fill for the first time in what felt like forever. He forgot what it felt like to be without the nagging hunger pangs.

He could feel Tony’s eyes on him, studying him close, and it made his hairs stand on end nervously. The man was anything but comforting to sit beside.

“What about school? You go to high-school? College?”

Peter shrugs again, pretending to be solely focused on the last few eggs on his plate.

“I’m trying to be polite here, kid? I’m giving you the opportunity to willingly disclose information about yourself instead of leaving me to dig it up after you leave.”

Peter turns to shoot him a glare. “It’s none of your business.”

“I have to disagree,” Tony argues back easily. “Considering I saved your ass, not once, but twice, last night.”

Peter considers it for a moment. Either way, Tony would get the information he wanted, he's sure of it. He is Tony Stark after all. But he could use this as an opportunity...

“Only if you answer a couple of my questions.”

“Fine,” Tony waves dismissively, “but me first.”

Peter smirks. “I’m fourteen, and I just started my freshman year of highschool. Now my turn--”

Tony ignores him, interrupting with a steady hum. “A bit young to be gallivanting around New York in the middle of the night. Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead,” Peter spits out heatedly. “Now it’s my turn to ask a question.”

Tony’s look was withering as he glared down at him reproachfully. “I’m not done…” his gaze burns into Peter, challenging him to interrupt, and Peter’s ashamed he couldn’t find the courage to swallow the heavy lump in his throat. “Now,” Tony begins again, “who’s looking after you?”

“I got a Foster.”

Tony nods in understanding, a soft ‘ahh’ leaving his mouth as if he’d solved the final piece of the puzzle. “As in foster care. I see. Sorry kid, but I had to do what I had to do. You know how it is. This gig, you gotta make a lot of tough decisions.”

Sure… tough. Playing god and choosing who lives and who dies… tough. Just because Peter admits that maybe -- maybe -- Tony Stark had been right, it didn’t mean he approved of the actions he took.

“You’re turn,” Tony gestures calmly towards Peter, and Peter scowls.

Tony Stark hurt him… this was his chance to truly hurt him back.

“Did you really go crazy because Pepper died?”

He could quite literally see the tension instantly establish in his form, and in hindsight Peter realized that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to irritate an enhanced and ruthless killer. But he has food in his belly and a full night's rest and he’s confident that if it came down to it at this moment, he could take Tony Stark, no problem.

Tony doesn’t look at him when he answers, instead, staring at the fireplace in front of him. Embers from last night still burned like small coals, glowing orange against the black of the charcoal.

“I didn’t go crazy,” he says, enunciating the words slowly and carefully, “but... yes, her death did bring to light several things I had been ignoring.” He remained purposefully vague in his answer, and Peter noticed.

“What things?” Peter pressed. He wasn’t sure if he was still asking out of irritation, or out of curiosity. This man-- the man whose story was known across the globe, was willingly telling him what really happened. A perspective never before told or heard of the story that has been sought after and pondered by nearly everyone who lived to witness the event that triggered such a cataclysmic shift in their society.

“The cruelty… and abuse.” He still wasn’t looking at Peter, and a somber frown casted over his face. Brows drawing together, and his head dips to stare down at his empty plate.

“What?” Peter felt dismayed. What could he possibly be talking about? How could Tony Stark be the victim of cruelty?

Suddenly, the man stood from the couch. “I didn’t kill the Avengers without a reason Peter. I have a reason for everything I do… but they’d gone too far and that’s all I have to say on this matter.” The end was spat out with a sharp bite in his tone, and Peter had the sense to not push it any further. The man was obviously troubled by the events, and the orange in his eyes was making a prominent appearance, triggered by his sudden anger.

He makes his way to the kitchen and Peter remains there on the couch, pondering the words. What did the Avengers do that made Tony feel the need to kill them? It had to have been pretty bad to elicit such a drastic change in character. The man who’d once been worthy of unending praise for the sacrifices he’d made, and the work he did. Hell, he predicted the invasion of 2012 with startling accuracy, and that foresight saved thousands of lives. The preparations he had taken, and the actions he took, had ended the battle before it ever had the chance to truly begin.

The Avengers had helped him, and they had been on good terms… Peter didn’t know what could’ve caused such a drastic change in their relationship in just one year. Did they kill Ms. Potts? No, it was a car accident… Tony couldn’t blame them for that.

But before he could come to a solid conclusion, Tony had returned, his carefree smirk back in place on his face. “Don’t fret about it. The past is in the past. Everyone thinks Iron Man is dead and that’s just the way I’d like to keep it for the time being.” Tony pauses to cast him a prominent look.

And with that look alone Peter is brought back to question everything. How could he possibly be trusting anything this man says? He’s psychotic. Manipulative. Deceitful.

For all Peter knows, he’s just telling him all this to earn Peter’s sympathy! He only came to his rescue to earn his trust! Tony knows that he knew he was alive… and he didn’t want Peter to tell anyone. He knows that he’s not strong enough to kill Spider-Man so, instead he’s trying to earn his trust…

...but he could have just left Peter to die and the problem would be solved… he wasn’t sure what to think anymore. There was no logic to be placed with the man’s actions.

“How do I know you aren’t saying all this to make me feel sorry for you? So that I won’t tell the authorities you’re alive and where you live. I’m sure if I called the cops right now and told them to come here, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of the DNA spread across this whole apartment. Then everyone would know you’re alive.” Peter sweeps his arms in a wide gesture of the area.

To his surprise, Tony only chuckled. “Oh contraire my boy. You underestimate me.” He looks up, brows lowering to accentuate his smirk. “If I were trying to manipulate you, you would never know any better.”

Peter doesn’t budge in his set frown, and Tony gives in with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any proof. I know how that may look. That’s why I wasn’t going to tell you.” He takes away Peter’s empty plate from his hands, and replaces it with the bottle of medicine he’d placed on the coffee table earlier, holding two fingers up in front of his face pointedly. “Believe me, if I gave you the full story, you’d think for sure I was insane.”

Well, if that didn’t peak his interest...

“What is the full story?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s a fantastical tale you’d never believe, I can assure you that. Most days I have trouble believing it myself.”

“Maybe I will!” Peter quickly argues. Now he’s even more eager to know whatever this story is. If Tony Stark, the man who supposedly experienced it, thought it was crazy, it had to be something good.

“Well, do you believe in time travel?”

Peter pauses, eyes widening as he freezes in place. “I-I’ve seen the math. I haven’t seen anything credible yet…”

Tony turns away from him again, speaking with his back to him, a soft chuckle escaping him with not a hint of humor lacing it. “It doesn’t work the way a lot of people think it does… the way everyone assumed, even despite my warnings. Messing with the timeline isn’t any business of mortal men, it’ll erase who you are… and what you were; what defines you.” Tony glances at him over his shoulder. “And that’s what happened to me.” He turns back around and Peter notices the stiffness in the man’s shoulders as he moves back towards the kitchen, a more lighthearted tone following the somber admission. “Anyway! Maybe one day I’ll show you my math. For now, I think it’s fair to say I should wait until we both trust each other a bit more before I disclose that information.”

Peter pouts, falling back against the couch and fumbling with the stupid medicine bottle and even more questions spinning around in his head. He didn’t care about being manipulated anymore; he just wanted to know! Time travel?! Did Tony Stark actually time travel?! Is that seriously what the man was trying to claim? God, if anyone could figure it out it’d definitely be Tony Stark. Now all he wanted was to see the math. Whether it was real or the scribblings of a man gone insane, he didn’t care. He’s sure it’d be a wild trip.

“Now, I think it’s fair that I get to ask one more question.” Tony says. Peter looks up at him and rolls his eyes as he pops two pills into his mouth then reaches for the glass of water. “How’d you get your powers?”

“How’d you get your powers?” Peter counters.

Stark glares at him again, with that same look, and Peter deflates with a sigh.

He tells the whole story. From his trip to OsCorp, all the way to the terrifying discovery of his apparent sticky powers. Tony seemed to be particularly interested in the OsCorp Spider and Peter told him everything he knew, hoping that if he shared enough, Tony'd be more apt to share his whole time travel thing.

When he was finally done, Tony clapped his hands on his knees. “Alrighty, kid, I think that’s everything.”

He suddenly shoves his wrist in Peter’s face and that same blue light from last night scans along his face and Peter flinches back, startled. Again, Tony observes the watch display after the light disappears, and smiles. “You’re all good… Now--” The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fancy looking watch similar to his own. He holds it out towards Peter. “--this is for you. I re-configured it last night, so there shouldn’t be any bugs. It will notify me if you ever get into any more trouble.”

“What? No!” Peter snaps. “I’m not wearing that.”

Stark sighs like he was a tired parent. “Peter, what if you get into some serious trouble like last night? Next time I probably won’t just happen upon the situation just before it goes off the rails. You need someone to have your back for those just in case scenarios.”

“I can handle it!” Peter argues, voice now defaulting into a desperate squeak. “You can’t control me! I won’t let you! I’m Spider-Man!”

“You’re also a fourteen-year-old kid suffering from malnutrition and exhaustion.”

“Last night was just a fluke. I’m not usually like that.”

“Mhm,” Tony hummed, the corner of his mouth quirked downwards. Peter could tell he didn’t believe him. “Just wear the damn watch Peter. I’m only trying to help.”

Peter gawked, confused.

“You want to help me?”

Tony scoffs. “Of course I do. You do good work, kid.”

Peter feels like there’s a catch somewhere in there. “Aren’t you supposed to be a supervillain or something? You're supposed to try and stop me, not help.”

Tony smirked, then shrugged. “I’m not typically one for clichés. But who knows… maybe I’ve had a change of heart.”

Peter gasped, for some reason completely ecstatic at the prospect. “Really?!”

“Sure,” Tony chuckled.

“So-so we’re like a team now? You’re gonna be a good guy again?!” Peter was seriously about to fanboy. He was teaming up with Iron Man. The good Iron Man, not the bad one… he thinks.

Tony holds up his hands. “I never said that.”

Peter finds himself pouting again. “Aww, c’mon Mr. Stark…”

“I’m on your side, kid, but I have no desire to change what I am now,” Tony grabs his hand and hauls him off the couch, giving him a stern look. “This world doesn’t deserve to be protected after what it's done. I hope you never lose your positivity and desire to help people like I did… but it's too late for me, not for you.”

“But you’re helping me protect them.”

Tony shakes his head. “No, I’m protecting you…” Peter pauses and stares up at him in wonder. He felt like he was a little kid again, looking up at his hero. He sees a flicker of something go across Stark’s face before the man flinches and his face returns to a neutral smirk. He gives him a firm pat on the back and gives him a gentle push to the door. But not before he presses a card into his hand. “Here’s my number if you ever need it. Don’t hesitate to call… I’m a particularly good tutor-- if you ever need help with something like that, that is. ” He coughs then clears his throat awkwardly. “Uhhh, keep up with your eating and sleep, we don’t need another incident like last night, yeah? I’ll see you around, kid.”

Peter frowns as he walks across the luxurious apartment, towards the door. Stark wasn’t at all what he had believed him to be… maybe he had been manipulating him. But his gut hadn’t told him so, and, again, his gut had never been wrong before.

So, he slowly makes his way home. It was Saturday and he could only hope that Beck wasn’t awake yet. He glances down at his new watch, wondering if the fancy thing even told time… it did. And it was-- 12 O’CLOCK?!

He was so dead…

Next Chapter

@multiverse-irondad-july

#Villainous July 2021 #VillainousJuly2021 #villain tony stark #protective tony stark #extremis tony stark #time travel #peter parker #dad tony stark #irondad #villain au #irondad fanfiction

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