I Love The Little Performances He Does Before A Beat Down I Hope He Continues To Do That In The Third

Some idiot: "Why are you reading your own fic, that's shallow and stupid"

All fanfic writers and writers everywhere: "Who the fuck do you think I wrote it for?!"

Translating the last line of Ne Zha 2 (2025)

When Ao Bing asks Ne Zha how he knew he'd come back, Ne Zha says something that I think might be the perfect ending line.

因为我们都太年轻，不知天高地厚

Yin wei wo men dou tai nian qing, bu zhi tian gao di hou

I think the theatre I watched translated this as "Because we're both too young. Too young to fear."

Honestly, this translation is pretty good! It's touching and impactful.

Bu zhi tian gao di hou, 不知天高地厚, is a saying that is used to refer to someone that is arrogant or foolish and doesn't understand the power or cruelty of the world.

It means: To know not how high the heavens stretch, nor how deep the earth goes.

Usually it is used to admonish someone, usually an elder scolding someone younger that they're overly confident or idealistic, and don't know anything about the realities of what's out there.

Ne Zha and Ao Bing have both technically lived thousands of years. They were originally the Chaos Pearl, so they've witnessed a lot. They do, in fact, know how unfair the world is, and have seen the heavens and the earth.

However, since their bodies and minds are still young, it's especially impactful for Ne Zha to say this to refer to himself and Ao Bing. Essentially, he is saying that despite them both understanding the cruelty and unfairness of the world, they still choose to be young and foolish.

It's not that they're arrogant and overconfident. It's that they understand they have little chance, but they must fight anyway. They are choosing to be young and wild, choosing their three year old naïveté over their thousands of years as the Chaos Pearl.

IDK, it really got to me.

what im doing during the drama #idgaf

beautiful stunning amazing yes

once more, with feeling

876 words

it's not exactly the same every time. it's altered by what they went through, and why they’re asking, and how it all ended. but it's always close enough that it may as well be the same. 

100% inspired by this incredible post by @thirdtimed! it had me by a chokehold i had to do something about it

it's not exactly the same every time. it's altered by what they went through, and why they’re asking, and how it all ended. but it's always close enough that it may as well be the same. 

the first time, it was unprecedented. 

blood on his hands, tears in his eyes, we expected it to be over—a failed experiment, one that only he would ever remember to save the others the pain. too much grief wracked his body for him to even choke out the words for a long while, but we waited. it isn't an unusual thing for us to do, to wait.

smearing sand on his sunburned face, he wiped away his tears and said,

"give me another chance."

the second time, we were curious.

shaken and silent, he stared into our face for a long while, as if trying to decipher what in void we were. the crown of crystals were still and a kind of grey that isn’t truly grey, but every colour at once, and his breathing was shallow. the bloodlust drained from his eyes, leaving them as grey as the crown.

we asked, because he would not have thought to answer otherwise. he flinched, and hesitated. 

"i.. can i see them again?"

the third time, it was almost expected.

still smoking from the explosion, she sunk to her knees, sobbing and clutching herself as if she feared literally falling apart. it took a long while for her screams of grief subsided, and longer still for the weeping to fade into sniffing and hiccups. she hadn't looked at us once, as if she didn't know we were there, but we did not wish to interrupt—she was entitled to her unraveling in private.

wiping her eyes, she didn’t bother to compose herself much more. she lifted her face, littered with gashes and scars, and with agony in her voice-

"i want my friends."

the fourth time.. well, it was a little surprising.

a victor had not yet arrived so high on adrenaline and confidence, and the blood that stained even his mouth seemed to be a trophy. the sword had not left his hand, and still dripped with what remained of the last two, the drops vanishing into the abyss below. he was grinning, and this was the most surprising part.

not needing any persuasion or suggestion, he looked us right in the eye—as none had done before, crowing,

"come on, give us another go!"

the fifth time, it wasn't the request that was new.

alone in a field of sunflowers is where we eventually found him, after waiting fruitlessly for his arrival. he startled a little as he realised we were there, but soon calmed at the understanding of what we meant for him. after all, it had been almost a year since he became stranded—and stranded was the word for it. the shawl was still the red and purple of the flowers he had once given to his partner, and we suppose one could say they started this whole chain of events.

setting aside his gardening tools, he smiled almost sadly. perhaps he would miss what had become his prison, despite everything it signified. he sighed,

"i think i’d like a better try at companionship."

the sixth time.. it almost didn’t count.

surprised to have even been considered for a crown, they laughed in delight when the paper version settled on her head, clearly pleased with our creative flair. we were pleased as well—it isn’t often creative flair ends up being a positive part of our abilities.  they looked around, as if deciding whether or not the place was real, and seemingly settled on an answer. we didn’t ask what the answer was. 

adjusting the paper crown, she laughed, clearly finding the whole situation amusing. when we asked, they seemed to be even more surprised.

"i get to choose? well- let's do it again!"

the seventh time, it became amusing. they did know they could choose something else, did they not?

whooping and throwing his arms around in celebration, came the second victor to be genuinely pleased by his victory and subsequent death. he spent a considerable amount of time pretending he was at an awards show, thanking his family, his wife, his best friend and so on. it was refreshing, after all that misery we witnessed at the beginning of the games, to see the tides changing. especially with him; rage used to be his fuel. now it seemed to be love.

grinning up at us, he waited for something. perhaps one of the others had mentioned it, but he did not seem surprised when we asked.

"what do i want? of course i want more!"

the eighth time, we don’t have to even introduce ourselves.

considerably more pleased than he had been the first time, he seems to think that taking his own life was the ultimate show of power against us. of course, we have changed our ways since his game, but he is not to know that. like his predecessor, he too seems amused by the paper crown. 

cracking his knuckles, and stretching his neck, we already know what he’s going to say, but we let him ask it.

"one more time."

This movie was freaking awesome. I will sell my soul to get the 3rd one out faster

After my 5th theater watch, I am honestly, fully, and completely convinced Jiaozi's film "Ne Zha 2" is a required watch for everyone - if the world stopped being scared of animation outside their countries and quit cringing in fear of subtitles, animated cinema would be rescued from The Mouse.

lizzies last life was my introduction to the life series so little bit of a love letter :p

Another redraw of one of my first Nezha drawings what a guy am I right?

Here’s the 2022 version:

Careful footings, precise movements, flickering gazes; the steps were to a dance he had been born into, movements he had Ren forced to learn. Because you can't miss a step in this dance, if you trip- if you loose sight of your partners blade- its over. There isn't a second chance. There isn't a hand held out to help you off of the dirt you fell into.

Just the dirt and your own blood. Forged by your mistakes.

He was never without at least three of his implements. Despite his recklessness, he wasn't keen on dying.

The heavy battleaxe he kept wasn't all that practical to use alone. It was too heavy and slow. But its weight on his belt was what reminded him that he wasn't defenseless, that he had a chance.

The sword he kept on the other hand, was the best weapon one could have when forced into close up combat like the situation he was in. It was muscle memory for him to spin the blade around his hand like one would swing a butterfly knife as he fought. To remember not to press to harshly against another's blade for too long before swinging at their shins or their sides.

His opponent was strong, they weren't afraid to press him whenever their blades clashed and sparked. They were well trained as well, even as he switched which hand he held his blade it, they didn't falter.

It was exhilarating, the thrill of the fight, the way the pain of his scrapes was dulled by pure adrenaline. He knew he was grinning that grin he was told made him look insane. He knew he was getting tired, they had been moving for hours. He knew his mind was drifting, he couldn't focus in the fight when all his mind was stuck on was how much he had missed this feeling. He knew he was relying a tad too much on instinct, on waiting for the small shifts in the air to tell them where they would strike.

But he kept on going, letting himself forget where he was in the room. Not noticing as the other was moving him slightly back at every strike.

In one swift motion, his sword was flung out of his hand and he was being tossed to the ground, the back of his head brushed the wall as he fell. Panic took over.

Before he even knew where he was, before he could register his own thoughts or figure out what had happened, his hand was snatching a small blade tucked into his boot.

He gripped the persons jaw, palm over their chin, and flipped their positions. Slamming the others head to the floor and digging the blade against their jugular.

He was panting, he couldn't see, all he could do was feel the person try to move and he dug his nails into their jaw in retaliation.

The person said something, he can't hear them.

He doesn't care to.

They tried to... They...

He can't remember.

Where is he?

It doesn't matter. He's not dead. He just needs to live.

Suddenly a hand has his wrist and is yanking it off of them. The attacker scurries away from his grasp.

Fuck he is so dead. His axe isn't going to do anything, he's shaking, he'd did op it in seconds. He's dead. He's dead. He's going to die. He's going to-

A hand on his shoulder.

He flinches away and keeps his head down. Maybe they will let hin- if he just does what they say- it will all be okay if he just-

"Look at me." The attacker says, their voice is calmer than he expected, he thought they would sound angry.

He looks up and the castle crashes around him.

It was just Gem. She is bleeding from her throat, badly.

His head flings from side to side to look around the room.

Fight club. He was just in their stupid fight club. He wasn't anywhere else.

He just hurt Gem in a sparring match.

He was about to kill Gem in a sparring match just because he forgot where he was.

Idiot. He was a fucking idiot.

"I.." His breath catches and he realizes he's breathing too fast.

Gem knelt down next to him. "Are you okay?"

He nodded frantically, "Are you? I'm so fucking sorry I didn't mean to hurt you like that I just-" he swallowed "I forgot where I was for a minute."

She huffed, but looked pained as the action strained the large cut on her throat, just to the side of her jugular and artery. She pulled a potion out of her pocket. "Nothing a healing potion won't fix." And slowly drank the thick, sweet smelling drink.

Her wounds stitched themselves back together. He relaxed slightly. He wasn't killing anyone.

"Where did you think you were?" She asked.

He barked out a laugh, it was heavy with a bitterness to it. "Anywhere but here, Gem."

She looked puzzled at that.

He evened his breath. "I'm not exactly the guy people like to keep around. Kind of why I don't do this often.. hanging out with people I mean."

The redhead held out her hand to help him up from the floor. "Well. Start getting used to it. You're stuck with me now, you got that?"

He put away his weapons into the chests. "Yeah. Okay, why not?"

Kailor shenanigans.

Too lazy for a description rn😔, but heres another jaya fanart