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tinycurlyfry · 1 year

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Thinking about how Buggy and Shanks parallel Zoro and Luffy but if Luffy dropped his ambitions. The agreement between Zoro and Luffy was that Zoro would follow Luffy, be his first mate, be his swordsman, the first member to join his crew and set sail to achieve Luffy’s dream of being Pirate King IF Luffy never got in the way of Zoro’s dream of being the Strongest Swordsman in the world.

Buggy and Shanks were “apprentices” to Roger (and really more or less they were his sons). They were learning from Roger and learning what being a pirate SHOULD BE. So as apprentices, it would go without saying (at least as far as Buggy is concerned) that that means they need to be the ones to carry Roger’s Legacy. That they should be the ones to get their captain’s treasure and carry out what he wanted for the world. We see it in what Buggy is CURRENTLY doing. That he wants to inspire people to achieve their dreams. Crocodile sees piracy as a business, and Mihawk sees his position as a power pirate as a means to live a peaceful, lazy life where no one would dare bother him. But they don’t have the ROMANTICISM of a dream anymore. And all those years ago Buggy heard Shanks say he was no longer throwing himself into the romanticism of pirating and adventuring anymore. He’d be a pirate sure, but there was no drive, no DREAM behind it anymore.

And then he asks Buggy to still be a part of his crew. I can only imagine what that request must have felt like to Buggy. For Shanks to tell him “I won’t be the pirate king you saw me as. I’m not seeking any dream. But come be a part of my mediocracy. Just settle for less, Buggy.”

Now of course, Shanks still went and became a HUGE big name pirate. One that achieved Emperor level. But in that moment? In that moment it felt like Shanks was asking Buggy to give up on his dream, settle for being a pirate simply to be a pirate, and betray what they had learned from Roger.

Luffy was never going to get in the way of Zoro’s dream. Zoro’s desire was Luffy’s desire and vice versa, because as they said themselves in the show- the pirate king shouldn’t have anything less than the best swordsman on his crew. But Buggy’s desire was not Shank’s desire. I’d argue it probably still isn’t! I know Shanks is now making his move for the One Piece, but I honestly don’t know that that is his true objective. I think he thinks his place is to BE THERE when the battle for the One Piece happens. He placed a bet on the new generation and he is going to be there to see that bet come to fruition.

And I think part of that conversation between Shanks and Buggy was how they were each grieving. They had both lost a captain, but also a father.

But Buggy has not given up. His own dream was rekindled this most recent chapter (yes partially because he believes Shanks finally wants to be pirate king too), but partially because he finds himself SURROUNDED by people who know longer believe in the child-like wonder of adventure and treasure and the DREAM of becoming PIRATE KING. I think Buggy HAD also given up down the line. I think we saw a Buggy who’d lost his way at the beginning of the series. I do think Buggy doesn’t have the... best morals... But whether it’s intentional or not Buggy is not who we saw at the beginning of the series and he’s rallying so many people under him, and giving them sanctuary, and honestly? Reaching a king’s status to so many people.

But honestly? If Luffy suddenly went “You know what? I’m happy with what I’ve got here. I don’t need to be pirate king anymore. We don’t need to get the One Piece.” The Straw Hats would be SO LOST. Sure maybe they wouldn’t all get immediately angry or upset as Buggy had and asked “Well, what DO you want then?” But they are a crew made from the collection of DREAMS. And everyone’s dream is their own dreams. Zoro’s ambition became Luffy’s ambition, but that would never had happened if there was even a small chance that Luffy would be satisfied with anything that fell lower than reaching their dreams.

All this to say I’m proud of Buggy and support him as Leader of Cross Guild LMAO I hope he continues to fail upwards.

#One Piece #Buggy the Clown #Shanks #Zoro #Luffy #FryTalks #Cross Guild #Mihawk #Sir Crocodile #Gol D Roger #The funniest thing about all of this is that I did not like Buggy before this chapter #I was one of the people who would chuckle at the fun people were having liking Buggy so much after Impel Down/Marineford #but I did not care about the clown #I care about the clown now #I hope he shows up and pulls a fast one on Shanks and Shanks just beams at him with a big ol smile #OP Spoilers #One Piece Spoilers #Egghead Arc #One Piece 1082

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myoddessy · 2 years

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MIRRORBALL | dream of the endless

pairing: dream of the endless x goddess of love!reader

summary: you went by many names. cupid, aphrodite, venus, freyja, some simply called you what you were, love. but, to morpheus, you needed no name other than his, and in the dim light of a ballroom, he admires your glow.

notes: morpheus + taylor swift = my happiness, even if most of it is sad. you're safe with this one, though 💞 agápi means love in greek, it's only used once but you can pry the thought of fiddlers green using greek words as terms of endearment for those he truly cares about from my cold dead hands.

warnings: no show/comic spoilers!!, angst (mild), fluff, they're so in love it's sickening, fiddlers green is my fav and you can tell.

word count: 1.7k

the playlist.

"are you alright, dear love?" fiddlers green questioned, pulling you from your stupor as you ran your finger across a daisy's petal.

"yes, as always. why do you ask?"

"well, and please forgive me for being frank, you seem somewhat reserved today. you are usually full of stories after blessing day, and you've been silent since you've joined me." you wished to deny it, but he was right.

blessing day, what mortals called valentine's, was your busiest dawn. be it weddings, proposals, births, confessions, or simple matchmaking, almost every mortal across the waking world had some form of request for you. and, just as fiddlers green had said, most years you were bursting at the seams with adoring anecdotes.

you told him of every arrow you'd strung, every vow you'd guided, every first kiss you'd officiated, and he listened gladly. besides, there's not much he could do to stop you from talking.

what was different this year, however, was their thanks for your gifts, or, in this case, lack thereof.

you were all too aware of the fact that mortals did not rely on you, and you were far more dependent on their faith than they were on your blessings, but the mere whisper of a 'thank you, cupid' was enough to tide you over. but this year, there was nothing. they took your heart and cracked it open, passing the spoils of your gifts around.

you were too fond of them to be vengeful, empathy bleeding into the resentment until you forced yourself to forgive and move to the next thankless blessing.

"i suppose i just feel like i didn't help enough people today." you toyed with your fingers with the nervousness of a child in trouble.

for the first time in centuries, fiddlers green scoffed at you. "i am absolutely certain that that is not the case, my dear. i can guarantee that when the waking world rests, i will see countless of romantics pass by, all because of you."

you smiled at his praise, and in the way the trees swayed, you could sense his pride in lifting your spirits. you took a deep breath and lay down, blades of grass tickling your face. "am i naive?"

"i'm not entirely sure what you mean."

your brows knitted together in stress. "have mortals always been selfish and i've been too blinded by their beauty to realise it?"

"ah," he began in realisation, "i take it thanks were few and far between this year?"

"i dont mean to sound spoiled or gluttonous, but i give them so much. all i wish for is some sort of acknowledgment before i'm pulled in all directions by those in need of a blessing."

"i do not think that mortals are inherently selfish, and i do not think that you are either. what i do believe that mortals are, is close-minded and excitable. you give them so much joy that they struggle to process it, hence your artists and poets who channel your inspiration into a vessel to carry your gifts." his voice was gentle, as if he were speaking to an injured fawn, and you relished in the comfort of his consoling. "you work yourself too hard, agápi. the guilt of failing to achieve the unachievable is far too much for anyone to carry, especially someone as reliant on emotions as you are."

"i feel like i'm invisible to them when they don't want something." your throat tightened and tears gathered by your waterline. "i fear that soon, i'll run out of love to give them."

fiddlers green swore that, in that moment, he could feel the tender scales of your heart tip ever-so-slightly towards the coldness that came with being callous. he knew you were a fragile being. not weak, never weak. he had seen the power your gifts granted every realm and the effects that withdrawals of your grace had on now-tarnished lands. but fragile in the sense that an antique vase of the finest china was fragile. it was beautiful and glorious, but if it was handled too harshly, it would fall to the ground and shatter into a million shards.

as the embodiment of love itself, you were blessed with an open mind, but cursed with a bleeding heart. you felt everything for everyone tenfold. if a mortal wept, you cried for them. if a faerie giggled, you laughed alongside them. you carried the burden of enough love to bring light to hell and were forced to spread it across worlds, lest it grow too much to handle and your porcelain face cracked.

before he could respond, he sensed a new presence enter, and heard a voice to match it soon after. "my love?"

you hastily wiped away a few stray tears before standing and spinning to face your lover. "my dream." you sighed happily, a smile of sheer elation growing at the mere sight of him. he stepped towards you and took your hand in his. with a kiss to his cheek, you felt the rock in your chest lighten.

you were beautiful. this, morpheus knew. in fact, everyone knew that. it was plain to see in the statues and sketches and sonnets and songs created in admiration of you and as odes to your honour that morpheus was far from alone in his infatuation with you. but instead of feeling jealous and attempting to steal you away from the twinkling eyes of the masses, he was more than willing to fall to his knees alongside them as your unwavering devotee.

your hand rested intertwined in his as the golden hour light bounced off your face and made morpheus' breath hitch, not even attempting to hide his blatant staring.

"how was your day?" morpheus had a putrid hate for small talk, but blessing day was full of stories, and he'd give anything to revel in your voice.

"awful."

oh.

he stopped in his tracks, hand still wrapped around yours, even tighter now. his jaw was set in concern and his face was taught. "who has upset you?" he stood closer to you, free hand cupping your face.

"the waking world, but i find now that it's hardly their fault." you tugged on his hand and continued walking, practically dragging morpheus in tow. "they are not to blame for their purpose. they are vessels of love and life, my duty is to fulfil and guide them. their lives are improved by me, my life depends on doing what they need."

with your words hanging tensely in the air, morpheus swore that he knew your feeling of a bleeding heart. for when yours ached, his stopped completely, and he would damn the waking world if it meant your smile would reach your eyes again.

"but what is it you wish to do, my love?" his hand held your gently, as if he were afraid you'd shatter with the confrontation of not conforming to someone else's wishes.

centuries of morpheus by your side flashed before your eyes. picnics in lavish renaissance fields, archery ranges by nomadic campsites, feasts in royal courts. but one distinct setting stood out in the forefront of your mind. your heads bowed, a kiss pressed to the back of your palm, a brilliant ball gown, and dancing.

"i wish to dance."

he smiled, a half-turned quirk of his lip that danced with amusement that almost screamed that he knew that's what you would say. "then dance you shall."

you felt the soft gust of sand sweeping around you both, and by the time it settled, a laugh of pure elation escaped you.

weighed down more than before by your gown. a milky-white bodice with delicate intricacies of golden lace, butterfly sleeves barren, bar the gold hem that lay flat against your skin when you moved your arm to marvel at it. a corset of similar design resting at a comfortable tightness and adding extra flair to the full circle skirt. morpheus watched with a silent smile as you admired your dress, finding himself more focused on your beaming grin than the garment itself.

but far grander than your dress was the ballroom you found yourself in. the smallest tap of your shoes resounded through the high arching ceiling and bounced off the art-filled walls. marble pillars supported its weight, and a large crystalline chandelier hung from the centre of the ceiling, each fraction of light reflecting off of its surface and leaving minuscule rainbows on the walls in their wake.

you turned to morpheus with awe and gratitude written on your face, your breath hitching when you found him already staring at you with more adoration than you'd seen in a thousand mortal valentine's days. he stepped closer to you, took your hand in his, bowed slightly, and with a cheeky glint in his eye asked, "may i have this dance?"

with a laugh, you too curtseyed, agreeing with a simple, "why, yes, kind sir, you may."

and all at once, you heard it. soft piano paired with violin as morpheus led you in a dance you'd walked through hundreds, if not thousands, of times before.

but this night, this dance, seemed different. they way morpheus looked at you, the way he held you, made your power grow and your chest swell. you could feel the love he had for you, and it was borderline overwhelming. a mere minute of his presence, of what he felt for you, was enough to tear the pieces of your being from the ungrateful hand's of mortals and piece it back together with the utmost care.

so caught up in thoughts of him, and only him, you hardly realised you were still dancing until morpheus spoke again. "you're glowing."

"pardon?" your brows furrowed and you huffed a laugh.

his smile widened. "you're glowing." he repeated, happier than the last time. you looked down to where your hands met, and your eyes widened when you saw that you were, indeed, glowing.

it had happened only once before, during your wedding, and a roseate hue surrounded you for the full day. you assumed that it came from the fulfilment of being completely, hopelessly, and utterly in love. you looked to morpheus' eyes again and smiled. it made sense that you were glowing now, of all times.

"you truly are a wonder, my queen."

#morpheus x reader #morpheus fanfic #morpheus imagines #morpheus #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #the sandman imagine #the sandman x reader #fiddlers green #tom sturridge x reader #tom sturridge #neil gaiman

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bad268 · 9 months

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Second Place (Theo Pourchaire X F1 Academy! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Nope, just happy Theo is leading the championship now

Warnings: alcohol, Theo pushes the reader but no one's injured, hurt/comfort ig

Pronouns: You/your but fem reader (F1 academy driver&heels)

W.C. 1342

Summary: Theo is upset about always being in second place.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Google/Motorsport.com)

Another race, and another second place for both you and Theo. Solid results for you, but for Theo, it just made him angry. He was always getting second place, rarely first, and while he hated these second-place trophies, you thrived on them. He could never understand despite knowing you for a decade and being with you for nearly two years.

You decided to go out to celebrate the results with your friends that night. Theo and his friends joined once they found out you were going to the same area. That’s how you, Theo, and a large group of your friends found yourselves at a club, closing in on midnight.

At first, it was great. Everyone was partying, dancing, drinking, talking, and having the time of their lives. Well, everyone except Theo.

He was silently fuming as he nursed his eighth drink of the night. Why? Why did he always have to come in second? Why did you always celebrate second-place finishes as if you won the championship? Why did you not see second place as the first loser? Why did he feel envious of you for the same result? Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through his veins, but the liquid courage helped him ask you about it when you stumbled over to the booth he was hiding in.

“Hi Theo,” you giggled, leaning into him as you placed a kiss on his cheek. You did not notice the way he gripped his glass harder as his thoughts ran wild. “Why aren't you celebrating with us? Is your social battery dead? We can head back to the hotel.”

“How do you handle always being in second place?” He snapped, pushing you away enough to cause you to lose your balance for a second. You sobered up a bit at his reaction. He had never been one to get jealous of your results and he was not the type of person to hurt you in any situation.

“I see it as being reliable, I guess,” You answered, taking a breath and seat across from Theo. “I am consistently getting second place and my team can rely on me to bring in good points.”

“But doesn’t it ever get to you? Never winning?” He retreated back, almost like a moment of clarity despite the amount of alcohol in his system. You took it upon yourself to grab the glass and move it out of his reach; it was time for him to get cut off.

“I don’t see it like that,” you responded immediately. You could see that he was eating himself up over second place, but you needed him to see the other side, the positive side because he was spiraling. “Second place is still great points, and that’s how I was pretty much able to secure the championship this year. I just need one more second-place finish in a feature, and I win.”

“But don’t you wish that you won every once in a while?” He asked genuinely. “Standing on the top shelf, hearing your anthem, getting the biggest trophy, just the pride in saying that you won a race. Don’t you want that?”

“I do, but I’m not going to risk everything over a small chance to lead,” you responded, semi-understanding where he was coming from. “It’s everyone’s dream to win, but if I’m consistent enough, I can win either way. So many people have won races, then didn’t finish in the points, so their points are never consistent. I would rather say that I can achieve the same results at every race than say I won a single race. I’d rather win the bigger picture.”

“How…” He trailed off, looking around the club in disbelief. He was mainly just avoiding eye contact with the woman in front of him, but he could not fully understand her train of thought. “How do you stay so positive throughout the season? I just don’t get it.”

“Because you’re drunk, Theo,” you laughed, moving to stand. “You are drowning your sorrows in alcohol. Let’s go back to the room, and when you’re sober, I’ll help change your mind about being in second place because second place is just as great as first, if not more so. You just need to see it.”

It’s Thursday night. You would both be in the cars tomorrow for the practice and qualifying sessions, but tonight, you were sitting on the couch in Theo’s room, eating room service. Theo had remembered everything from the drunk conversation, but he regretted the way he talked to you immensely.

“I just want to say I’m sorry for how I brought up the conversation at the last race party,” he admitted, turning his full attention to you. You, on the other hand, did not understand where this apology was coming from. To you, he was just being hard on himself and needed some uplifting, especially after last year’s battle against Felipe Drugovich.

“You don’t need to apologize, Theo. You were drunk-” you started but he cut you off.

“Being drunk isn’t an excuse!” He was generally upset with how he brought up the conversation, and he was confused that you just brush it off. “I pushed you, and you almost fell! Being drunk does not excuse me from being a dick to you.”

“You weren’t a dick, let’s get that straight,” you put your foot down. “You were down, and you were upset. Sure, the alcohol didn’t help, but it’s a conversation we can have now, sober. Why were you so upset that you got second, and why do you think it’s so bad?”

“It’s just,” he sighed, taking a minute to sort through his thoughts as you grabbed his hand, reassuringly. “I’m always second. I was second in the championship last year, I am second in this championship, I haven't won a race since Bahrain, but I got second loads of times! Why am I always second? Am I that bad of a driver?”

“You are not a bad driver,” you comforted, pulling him into a hug. He immediately hid his face in your neck as you ran your fingers down his back and through his hair. “You are second in the championship by like five points, Theo, and you’re right. You haven’t won since Bahrain. How many has Vesti won this season?”

“Like four races, I think,” he answered. You pulled him out of your neck, placing your hands on either side of his face, and looking into his blue eyes.

“And you are keeping up with someone who has won three more races than you,” you put into perspective. “Don’t you see? All those second places add up quickly. You are five points behind someone who won more races. You are consistently in the points, not Vesti. As long as you keep up this streak, you’ll have the championship in no time.”

“And Theo Pourchaire crosses the line in second place, and he takes the lead of the championship!”

Theo was on the moon, or the podium. It’s crazy what a little difference in perspective can do for you. He jumped out of the car and immediately wanted to hug and thank you, but alas, you were racing in your own race.

He stood on the second-place podium and for once, he was happy to be there. You were right. There was nothing wrong with coming in second place. It was solid points.

That night, you both met up at the club. Instead of drowning his feelings in eight pints, he only had a couple because he was too busy dancing with you.

“Was I right? Second place is just as good as first, you can admit it.” You joked with him on the walk back. Well, more like ride back as you took your heels off at some point during the night, and Theo was not about to make you walk to the hotel barefoot.

“You’re onto something,” he joked back, looking back at you on his back. “I’ll admit you’re right after we both win the championship.”

~~~~~

#theo pourchaire x reader #theo pourchaire #theo x reader #formula 2 #formula 2 x reader #f2 #f2 x reader #bad268 #ship268 #thing268 #f1 academy #f1 academy driver reader

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brighteststar707 · 1 year

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Daydreams

I’ve been trying to get used to writing again, so I thought I’d be self-indulgent and write about kissing my number one boy.

✦ Saeyoung x Reader (set during his route)

✦ Words: 1607

✦ Genre: Fluff

Here’s the thing: Seven really wants to kiss you.

Here’s the problem: he’s stuck in his dungeon of an office, a safe (but frustrating) distance away. Here’s another problem: he isn’t supposed to be kissing anyone, or even thinking about kissing anyone. As Vanderwood has reminded him several times, attachments are dangerous.

Even so, he wants to kiss you when you shamelessly flirt with him in the chatrooms and join in on his ridiculous pranks. He wonders what your smile would feel like pressed against his lips. It’s a good thing you can’t see how hard you make him blush.

Once or twice, you’ve called him up late at night and, in a tone more serious than he’s ever heard from you, told him that you hoped he was taking care of himself. How was he supposed to say that you’re in more danger than you think (thanks to him) and that he’d work himself to the point of exhaustion rather than see you get hurt?

He doesn’t. He does tell you a joke about how he’s the invincible God Seven, but even over the phone he can tell that you’re not convinced. When he hangs up, he rubs his aching eyes and wonders if you’d hold him if he asked nicely. If you’d kiss his temples and tell him that this headache, this stress, this exhaustion will pass.

It gets worse once he starts obsessively watching the cameras. He stares at his screen so intensely that he starts to see it behind his eyelids when he closes his eyes. It’s all worth it, though, for the glimpses he catches of you when you leave the apartment. Surely, you must know that he’s always watching for you, because you often take the time to wave at the camera before you go. A little sign, just for him. It gives him butterflies every time you do it.

It’s a problem. He is supposed to be focusing on protecting you, and instead he’s fantasizing about what it would be like to be in that apartment with you. No hacking, no bomb, no threats. He’d be the Seven you like, not the liar Luciel who keeps nasty secrets. You’d still talk to him the way you do now, maybe with more cheeky flirting and less concern.

Instead of obsessively watching the camera footage for the off chance that he’d get to see you for a second, he’d be there, sharing space with you. Maybe you’d mention that you’re out of groceries, that you needed to go out for more. And instead of staring at the screen intensely like he does, he’d walk you to the door.

Maybe, just maybe, he’d kiss you goodbye. He’d cup your face between his hands (you wouldn’t mind that the skin on his palms was callused), and gently bring you close to him. You’d smile at him, that smile he has only managed to see once or twice so far but has imprinted in his memory. And then, he’d kiss you.

It’s all very distracting. And embarrassing when Vanderwood comes back into his study and asks him why he’s so red.

Hey, even agents can dream.

✦✧✦✧

It’s not like he has never kissed anybody before. From the beginning the agency had made it pretty clear that he was to use all the tools at his disposal in order to achieve his goals. It didn’t take him long to realize they meant his body, too.

He could probably count all the kisses he has had, if he tried. But those kisses were different from what he pictures when he thinks of you. They were stolen in dark, hazy rooms, his mind was always elsewhere, trying to get to the next step of the plan. Most of those memories don’t feel like they belong to him at all, that’s how far he has dissociated himself from them.

So, really, it doesn’t matter how many people he has kissed. Nothing has ever felt like this before. His fantasies about kissing you leave him feeling hot and fuzzy. He fixates on every detail, lingers in the moment and wonders if you feel the same way. He isn’t sure what he wants the answer to be.

✦✧✦✧

It’s funny how quickly things can change.

A week ago, Seven was sitting in the safe solitude of his office. He was in his element, protecting you the best way he knew how, and fully in denial of how quickly his feelings for you were growing.

It was easy, back then, to dream up fairy tales, knowing full well just how ridiculous they were. The thought of sharing the apartment with you was outlandish enough, let alone the idea of the two of you kissing. It was all just harmless daydreaming.

Turns out, those feelings were a lot more real than he had let himself believe. You were no longer an image on a screen, a voice through a phone, but a living, breathing person. You had cute little habits he never could have guessed at before, and you were frustratingly fixated on getting close to him.

Oh, and now you’re close. So impossibly close. With your arms resting on his shoulders, hands fiddling with the hair at the base of his neck, looking at him with such certainty in your eyes.

And oh, he really wants to kiss you.

The strange sequence of events that led up to this point is one he still can’t piece together fully. Despite everything he said and did over the past few days, you still treated him with the same kindness you had always shown him. You somehow still want him, somehow seem to like him as much as he likes you.

His own hands rest uselessly by his sides, caught somewhere between the overwhelming need for you and the fear of what will happen if he gives in.

In all his fantasies, he was perfectly in control. His head was clear, his every movement intentional. He was the one holding you close, giving you that look you’re giving him now. However, he had failed to consider the overwhelming sensations that would cloud his head in the moment itself. The scent of you surrounding him completely, the intensity of your eyes studying his face, the burning in his cheeks.

The world is shifting on its axis, and it’s a wonder he’s still standing upright. And he hasn’t even kissed you yet.

It’s in the way you play with his hair, so at ease, even in a moment like this. He isn’t sure if anyone has ever touched him like this. It’s making his stomach do somersaults and his thoughts run wild. He can’t focus on everything at once, and his gaze drops to your lips.

You smile.

That’s what does it. That smile, the one he has only seen a few times, and seen only directed at him over a pixelated CCTV feed. It breaks through the buzzing in his head and the pounding of his heart and gives him the push he has been looking for.

He cups your face in his hands (you don’t seem to mind the roughness of his palms) and pulls your face towards his. The last thing he sees before he closes his eyes is your smile.

The first kiss is something soft, experimental, your lips just moulded together. A taste.

Against his lips, he feels you hum softly. That’s all it takes for his remaining hesitancy to melt away.

Instead, it is replaced with a sense of urgency so intense that he can feel it in the back of his throat. All the fear, the loneliness, the desperation of the past few days catches up to him and he needs to make up for all the time he has lost, right now.

His hands move to the back of your head, and he pulls your face back towards him. You crash together again, this time all notions of gentleness forgotten. He kisses you hard and you nip at his lower lip until he opens for you. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders if you haven’t been harbouring any fantasies of your own. Then, he feels you tug at his hair and he doesn’t think anything at all.

Where the first kiss was soft, this one is hungry. He cannot have you close enough, cannot catch his breath, cannot think about anything but you you you. His hands drop down to your waist to pull your bodies flush together. After enduring several days of self-imposed distance from each other, he relishes the feeling of you under his hands.

When you break apart, you keep your arms around him. He’s glad. He isn’t sure what will happen if you let go of him now. You smooth out his hair where you tugged at it before, and he shivers. His hands linger on your hips, fingertips still buzzing with the thrill of touching you. Nothing feels quite real, like the colours are too bright and his skin is too sensitive to your touch.

It must show on his face, because your expression goes from giddy to concerned. “Are you alright, Seven? Was that okay?”

“Okay… Hah…” He has apparently also forgotten how to speak. There is a piece of hair that he must have messed up earlier, and he reaches out to fix it. His brain usually doesn’t have any trouble keeping up, but today it feels like he is wading through deep water, like everything takes more effort than it should. He takes a breath, allows his heart a moment to slow down.

“It’s like... I’m dreaming.”

#saeyoung unknowingly practices manifestation #mystic messenger #mystic messenger seven #mystic messenger saeyoung choi #mysme saeyoung choi #mysme seven #mysme 707 #My writing

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sugarwithtea · 1 year

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nobody doesn't know anymore | myg

everyone knows, what loneliness can do to a mind. his mind is something that likes to use negatives, if only to complicate his feelings. yoongi is at the edge, thinking about everything that has built him into the man he is. then what is it that he still craves for? nobody doesn't know — because everyone knows it's not him, but his loneliness thinking.

pairing ; no pairing ft. yoongi

rating/genre ; pg // angst, idol au.

wc ; 1.4k

warnings ; thoughts about past, heavy use of metaphors (forgive me), my bad interpretation of people pt 2, hard childhood, inner turmoil, feelings of grief and loss.

note ; i wrote this so quick. people made me think so so so much. and i am in no way saying that this is what he is talking about in the song, so mind me. it's just that this song inspired me to write this. take this as a disclaimer but m not claiming that these are yoongi's thoughts — these are mine. if you understand what I'm trying to deliver, have my kisses please. listen to people pt 2 ft. iu by agust d for that's what compelled me to write this lol. again, this might not make much sense and idk how I've ended it! also, this is unedited hehe. for we die on this hill.

masterlist | taglist

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Yoongi likes to think he has accomplished a lot in his life, but even that is a lie. And he knows that.

He had a dream when he was in middle school, and the years he had put into achieving it had been lengthy, and stressful. There were stretched moments of happiness too, where he had found himself at peace, proud of himself. But come today and he feels like there's a hole inside him.

He feels hollow. His heart still craves for more.

The dim light of his bedroom falls on his eyes and he breathes easily, taking in the air conditioned air with his eyes fluttering shut.

His mind drifts to his years of being a rebel, always disappointed by the ways of the world, and his lips quirk a little. Oh how foolish he was to think that he will be able to change it, that he will be able to see a place different from the one he has seen. With his eyes closed he shakes his head, thinking about the time he had realized how wrong he was.

The world is not going to change. It has billions of years in the making, and he, a mere man in his twenties, who has hardly seen the depth of the people living in it, has no chance of changing it. People might think he has seen a lot, known a lot, and is familiar with the ways of a lot – but the truth is that his knowledge has always been bound by his interests. He learns about the things he wants to know about, he doesn't go and seek answers for the questions which have never made their way into his mind.

His fingers twitch on his chest. He has always had this innate desire of being at peace. But even now, when he is supposed to feel it, his heart aches for something else. And maybe it's a shot in the dark, but the thought of an emotion that is so raw, but still built with layers of other feelings is what makes him crave for it.

His childhood years were not easy. He hadn't received the love, the support for which he had yearned. He was like a soul treading on, towards the light he had seen at the end of the dark tunnel he was residing in. But after years of his walking in the dark, when he had finally felt the light hit his withered, lifeless skin – he had grimaced and squinted his eyes. It had taken him a long time to get accustomed to that feeling, the raw warmth and the peaceful breeze.

His steps though, they never stopped. He had walked on and on, and had met a few too many travelers on his way, some of them joining him on his journey. Now that he had found the light, he didn't know what he was aiming for. Maybe just sit on the shore he could so clearly see, dip his feet in the sand and have conversations with the ones who had felt him worthy enough to join.

He had reached the shore too, pride swelling in his chest as the sand touched his feet. He had dipped his ankles in the warmth, and had enjoyed the softness. His greed, never ending, had compelled him to walk towards the water, hand in hand with his companion. He had perched himself at the edge, at the line where the warmth of the sand met the cold waves. His feet were no longer dipped in the grains, but in the cold water which washed away any remnants of the warmth he had yearned for.

The calmest of waves, had washed away something he had been wanting for so long. And that had him recoiling from there, leaving his companion's hand and looking back at the water as if he was burned. He was again in the sand, but the grains stuck to his feet, no longer making him feel warm, but irking him. He had run back, forgetting there was someone washing themselves in the waves for him. His selfishness had made him blind, and in his haste he had stumbled and fell on the ground.

That night the tears were thick, rolling down his face like the waves he so despised. For now there was no one to hold his hand and breath his scent – they had already been taken by the calmest of the oceans. The moon in the sky was covered by the clouds, and the only light he saw was a distant lighthouse. But he was tired, and he hated the water, so he made his house on the shore.

Now when he looks out of his window he doesn't see the light, for it had been taken from him the moment he had recoiled from the waves. He thinks he was selfless, because he hadn't brought his partner back, letting them revel in the peace the water provided. But even he knows how wrong he is – how the water did little to ease them, and so much to unnerve them when they saw how it affected him.

He still goes about his day with chivalry. Hoping that someday he will meet someone who will make him feel less lonely.

When he thinks back on that day, he realises he never feared loss, but the dread that came with it. He feared the possibilities, the future that will come with it. Maybe he never truly loved them, but the thought of being alone again was so daunting that he had folded like paper and fell on his knees when he had lost them.

He remembers the sandcastle he had built with them, the one which had been taken down by the calmest of assaults. Later when he had come to terms with the reality of him being alone, he had thought how people were fleeting, how feelings were fleeting. How easy is it to build something with someone, and easier for it to crumble down into nothingness.

So far away, that day, that feeling, that person. Everything is so far away from him, he can do nothing but sigh. When he had though that life was a struggle between revolt and submission, he was wrong. It was a struggle against loneliness. For he had rebelled, and surrendered but never did he understand the true sadness, until he was left alone, all on his own.

With eyes closed and breaths steady, he moves his hand on his bed, searching for his abandoned notebook. He needs to write, or else the calm breaths will turn ragged soon – and he can't risk it again.

On a page, he has already written down some lines. Has also scratched out some lines.

Maybe I didn't recieve enough love

Forever is a sandcastle, even with gentle waves, it collapses without resistance.

He scoffs, rewriting the lines and scratching the ones written before again.

Wasn't loved enough as a kid,

That's why I'm the cautious type.

Forever's something like a sand castle, you know.

It comes crumbling down at the calmest of waves.

He rubs his thumbs on the side of his pen, his tongue peeking out and brows furrowed. It's his countenance when he is in the mode of deep contemplation, and right now he is thinking if he should write about his loneliness or not.

Someone had once told him that a song tells the story the artist wants to say, and it can also communicate with the artist – telling them things they need to hear, not want to. With that in mind, he shakes his head and writes down a few more lines.

The say life's a struggle between resistance and submission.

I say it's a struggle against loneliness.

If you can't hold back, it's okay to cry.

He takes a deep breath before writing down the next line.

You're already more than enough to be loved.

His heart swells at that. Maybe he won't have to battle with himself every day. If he is able to accept that he is capable of being loved, he will come to terms with his future, his present too.

His journey has been fulfilling, he has discovered himself. And his feet land on the floor of his bedroom, thinking that maybe some day, he will have a hand to hold on to, without feeling the guilt that eats at his insides.

Because the greed that he wanted to give up was of no use, and his selflessness only caused him more pain. Maybe this time, he will be selfish, wishing for something which he will never let go. Something which has layers and a string of emotions strung together like a necklace – Love.

Because he knows that everyone knows. And nobody doesn't know anymore, that loneliness has been the root of all his desires.

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taglist : @jinsquishes @jeonkookiesworld @sailoryooons @jjkeverlast @aliimac @gimmethatagustd @namjoonwhoresworld @apotatomashedbybts @synnfulqt @saweetspoiled @chimchimmarie @sugababylove84 @axigailxo @yoongukie-ff @instabull @graycosco @wobblewobble822 @jungkooksseuphoria @kalea10 @yoongimarryme3 @jminssiii @cowboylikeyoongi @sashs-posts @iwishselena

please reblog, give feedback or comments to lmk your thoughts. it helps tremendously!!

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sounwise · 2 years

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“Inner Beatle Secrets: From Paul” (interview with Alan Freeman in Rave Magazine, April 1966 issue)

[Full transcript beneath the cut:]

No doubt, pop-pickers, millions of you would flip at an opportunity to entertain Paul McCartney in your home for a few hours. Well, if you ever do, take my tip . . . move the piano out first. Because Paul makes straight for it the way other people head for a good-looking chick.

“You eat, sleep and dream on it, don’t you?” I said. Paul grinned and rippled out another string of tuneful thoughts, the melody just growing from his fingers. Then he tried it over again, this time adding a jumping bass pattern that suddenly brought the whole thing to life. He stopped halfway through.

“That’s all I’ve got so far,” he said. “I must work on that a bit more.”

It took me half-an-hour to get Paul away from the keyboard and sit down and relax. I could see why the Beatles rarely run short of great new numbers. If someone invented a way of composing in your sleep, McCartney would be on to it like a shot.

It was nearly a year since I’d had a Heart-to-Heart with Paul, here in the same room at my London apartment. We’d met often since then, of course, on shows and in TV studios. But now, with a rare day free just to laze around and sip a long drink and chat about whatever came into his mind, you could see a big change in him.

In the old days Paul, like a lot of genuinely sensitive and creative people, used to cover up a little under a dry, wise-cracking front. Today he’s fizzing like a firework with all sorts of thoughts and theories about music, films, books and art.

People used to ask, “What happens when the time comes that the Beatles break up and go their own ways?” I don’t think we need to worry. I reckon their individual talents are possibly even greater than their achievements as a group. Even if the Beatles had never made a single disc, the Lennon-McCartney songs would have been a glowing milestone in pop anyhow.

So, if you don’t mind, Beatle-diggers, this is Paul the person talking of his ideas, his discoveries as his mind matures and the mad, hurtling pace of the world’s idols steadies down to a saner rhythm.

The phone rang outside, but I wasn’t letting anybody cut in on this revealing session with Paul. “No calls for the next hour, no matter what,” I said to Carolina, my secretary.

And Paul began to talk.

“It’s hard to know whether the Beatles have changed much in the past year as the public sees them,” he said. “But I know we have. I know I have, as a personal, internal change. I don’t mean things like getting the M.B.E. I think after the first couple of weeks we forgot about that.

“I’d say the really big change is in our tastes, in finding out about things we didn’t know before. For instance, George spends all his time now, listening to Indian music. He’s joined the Asian Music Circle. He’s really serious about it, too. It started when he got a cithar [sic]—the Indian instrument we used on ‘Norwegian Wood’.

“It’s the same with all of us. We’ve all got interested in things that just never used to occur to us. I’ve got thousands, millions, of new ideas myself. What I really want to do now is to see whether I could write all the music for a film. Not just to write tunes, but the music of the film itself.

“I want to read a lot more than I do. It annoys me that so many million books came out last year and I only read twenty of them. It’s a drag.

“What I’m reading at the moment is everything I can get on the assassination of President Kennedy . . . all the evidence, all the reports. I’m convinced that the real truth about that hasn’t come out. And I’m reading a French writer—Jarry. He’s great, weird.

“I’m reading plays like mad, too, I don’t know if I’ll ever want to write one. But there are so many things I’d like to have a try at.

“Painting. I’ve done quite a bit and I enjoy it. I’d like to do a lot more, find out if I might have a talent for that.”

Caroline brought in tea and passed the cups. “Paul,” I said, “how would you say all these new interests of yours might affect the Beatles’ music?”

He grinned, stirring his tea. “Well, if you mean are people frightened that we might suddenly go all sober or play stuff like Mantovani, they needn’t worry about that. We’ve got no intention of trying to rehash old things. The whole point is that we’re learning about new things all the time.

“Like doing ‘Yesterday’ with the string quartet instead of the big sweeping orchestra, which was the old way. But it would be a pity if we change the way which we think is better but everybody else doesn’t. It’d be a pity—but that’s the only way we’ve ever worked.

“We’ve only made the records which we think are good, and that’s the only standard we’ve ever gone by. Eventually we may get a bit too way-out. I hope not, but I don’t know.”

I pointed to the stack of newly released discs standing by the record player and said, “But if you go through those, for example, everyone can see that pop music is getting more and more way-out. People are going for it, all the same.”

Paul nodded. “Yes, to some extent it is. But there are still too many groups who are trying just to keep up. That’s no good. That’s what makes the whole pop thing dull in the end. You ought to be able to move on a bit further with every record, like The Who.

“And what’s more, they’ve got every chance. The equipment in most British recording studios is much better than it is in the States. But there’s some extra bit they get to the sound over there that we haven’t quite got. I don’t know what it is yet, but you get the sensation of that little bit more. The Stones always tell us we’d be better if we recorded in the States, but we never have. We probably will eventually.

“You put a record of ours with an American record and don’t alter the volume, and you’ll find the American record is always that fraction louder. And it has a lucid something I can’t explain. Funny, because as I say, I believe we’re technically better in Britain.”

Paul shrugged. But he had the contented look of a young man who has just come up with something else to investigate and find out about.

There must be many a group starting out now who are spurred along by visions of what life at the top must be like when you finally get up there in the Beatles class. But Paul said that although you obviously pick up the luxuries, you also discover that you’re going short of a lot of things that less successful people have more time to enjoy.

“I suddenly realised that because of the Beatles, as far as my own life was concerned, I’d got in a very severe sort of rut. And we all had, because we all just seemed to be working only towards trying to get pop things done. And we saw that obviously we must have missed out on quite a few things.”

He grinned and nodded towards the piano in the corner. “Only the other day I was working out a number and I stopped and thought, ‘What a drag. I’m twenty-three and I’ve never learned to read music.’ And I found I was thinking to myself as if I was finished. So I said, ‘Why don’t I?’ And now I’m doing it.

“Sooner or later it hits you that the average span of the British male is seventy-five years and you’ve had more than twenty of them, so you better make the most of what’s left. Then the brain starts working, and John and I rush out and buy loads of books.

“I’m lazy, but I don’t like myself being lazy. So the only way out is to do something about it. Like I made myself listen to classical records, though nobody in our house ever liked them. When one came on they’d just turn it off. But I thought, ‘I’d better sort this out for myself and see whether I like it or not.’

“And in fact I don’t like a lot of it. It’s too fruity and sentimental. But from that you get on to what the modern composers are doing. And it’s suddenly great, because you discover that there are all these things going on.

“Then I play them to John and he says, ‘What a drag—all these millions of records coming out all the time and we’ve not been getting on to them.’ Then we rush out and buy loads of modern compositions.

“The only thing to do is to listen to everything and then make up your mind about it.”

And that’s the best advice you’ll ever get on this planet, friends. Because it works, not just in the world of music, but in every profession they ever invented. I know people with no special gifts who’ve made fortunes just by listening. Not eavesdropping . . . listening. And when you know, then you can really start moving.

Paul shares with Pete Townshend of The Who a taste for the music of Stockhausen, one of the modern German composers. “His ideas are fantastic. It’s the farthest-out music yet. He uses electronic stuff that nobody else has got round to. And his records are listed under the classical section in the catalogues. So if you’ve got it in your head that you don’t dig classical music, look what you’re shutting out.”

He shook his head. “You can’t go putting music into little categories like serious and Merseybeat and so on. The great thing is that it’s music, whatever label they try to stick on it.”

Paul said with quiet intensity, “You see, you’re going to have trouble getting but unless you have fairly solid opinions on things. You live in a muddle. as soon as I noticed myself saying ‘I don’t know’ I thought, ‘Well, you’ll have to try. Why don’t I know?’ Unless you get at it, by the time you do find out you’ll be ready to die.”

The Beatles have obviously been the single influence on pop for decades. But Paul admitted that this influence would never have come about if he, John, George and Ringo hadn’t been excited and stimulated by other people’s thoughts and ideas.

“The whole thing is about trying to contact people all the time. And with everything . . . plays, books, music. Even cooking. Anything that breaks down any kind of barrier and lets you get through to another human being . . . that’s it, that’s what valuable, that’s what matters.

“I think that’s why the whole being-English explosion has been such a success in America and everywhere else. It’s a genuine effort, and it’s working. Everybody in England has suddenly got just a little bit more interested in everything and everyone else. Britain has just climbed up on to another level, and it’s a wonderful thing.

“You ought to hear the people who come over here, the ones we talk to. They’re knocked out, because the idea they had of England before was just ridiculous. They believe the whole bowler-hat thing, thought the English were very reserved and very cold. When they go to a few parties and see what we’re really like, they’re amazed.

“Oh, sure, there’s been a change in us, all of us. But there’s a lot of people who’re still apathetic, who’ve got one fixed opinion. You know, the kind who say ‘I just like pop music or rhythm-and-blues or Edmundo Ros and don’t ever tell me about anything else because I don’t want to know’. They’re still scared to lay themselves open to any new influence. And they stay in the don’t-know rut for ever.

“As far as the Beatles are concerned, we can’t just stop where we are or there’s nothing left to do. We can go on trying to make popular records and it can get dead dull if we’re not trying to expand at all and move on into other things. Unless you’re careful you can be successful and unsuccessful at the same time.”

The next the Beatles do a television film, Paul said, they want to use many more of their own ideas instead of leaving it to the network’s camera crews. “The one they did while we were in America could have been so much better. It needed just that little extra bit of imagination.

“Instead of getting someone in to do the music and the sounds, we’d like to do it ourselves. Spend a long time on it and really work at it.

“We’re getting something that’ll really give us some experience with mixing up sound and film in that sort of way. It’s a gift Capitol Records gave us in the States, and it’s the greatest little present event.

“It’s a television recorder. You just plug it into your set and you record the programme straight off, just like on to a tape. You can record the BBC while you’re watching ITV and show the film on your telly at one o’clock in the morning if you want to. They said we’ll be the first people in England to have them.

“So what we’re going to do when they come is go out and shoot film, weird shapes and patterns and light, and record special weird music to go with it and then come back and play it at home on the television. And we’ll be able to find out what works and what doesn’t, so that when we do a proper full-scale film we’ll know exactly what to put in it.”

The telephone shrilled in the other room. I looked at my watch. Our quiet hour had ended. “It’s Brian Epstein’s office for Paul,” said Caroline.

If you’re a Beatle, the world doesn’t leave you alone for long. While Paul was on the phone, the chauffeur arrived to pick him up for another business meeting. And for another while at least, all the schemes would have to wait while Paul the person made way for Paul the star.

As we shook hands on his way out, I wondered how far he would have carried his plans, what new excitements would be gripping him, the next time we have the chance of a Heart-to-Heart. More than likely, he would have come in from the bachelor cold by then and followed the other Beatles into marriage.

One thing for sure, I thought. No kid of Paul McCartney’s will turn out to be a don’t-know.

I looked at the piano guiltily as the lift hummed down to the ground floor. After all this time, I should be able to play that machine with the best of them. Why can’t I? I sat down and got a little chord shape going.

“Alan,” said Caroline around the door. “Fred Thing wants to know if you can come over.”

One note out in the bass somewhere—that’s got it.

“Tell him I’d love to,” I said. “But I can’t now. I’m working on an idea.”

Till next month—stay bright!

#i had to request this issue from a research library on the other side of the country...! shoutout to librarians forever #paul mccartney #alan freeman #rave magazine #the beatles #transcript #1966 #scans

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senditcolton · 9 months

Note

Oak with Brock Boeser because that man has been THRU it (emotionally)

oh this man really does need a long hug and I would be happy to be the one to give him one. soft blurb incoming for this soft boy!

word count: 1k

There were so many things you loved about your boyfriend Brock. If you were to make a handwritten list, it may as well span across the Pacific Ocean.

You loved his smile, his compassion, his drive. But the thing you loved the most was his capacity to feel. Brock Boeser felt more deeply than anyone who had ever met before.

Unfortunately, like most people, his greatest strength was also sometimes his greatest weakness.

In the years that you had been with him, you learned that sometimes Brock got lost in his emotions, both the good and the bad. When he became hyper-fixated on a positive feeling, it was magical to be with him, to be around him. Being in his life when that happened felt like something out of a fairytale.

But when he started to drown in sadness or anger or doubt…

You knew him. After all these years, you should know him. Which meant that you recognized the warning signs that told you when Brock was spiraling. You never blamed him for his low moments. There was never anything to blame him for. All you could do was offer a hand and hold him through the storms that occasionally blew in.

This was one of those storms.

The Canucks were struggling and now, it seemed as if everyone was either being whisked away and lost in the shifting tides or they were abandoning a sinking ship before it was too late. Their coach who genuinely believed and cared about the players under his wings was fired. Their captain, the man that the team and the city looked to in order to lead them down the path to victory, had been traded, going off to join a team that had the will and skills necessary to win.

Now there were so many people looking to Brock, the golden boy, to be the new hope – the ray of light that would guide them all to a better horizon.

It was too much to place on one person’s shoulders. Even if that person may act like they would carry the burden with a smile on their face.

Brock loved his fans, he loved the team, he loved the city. He wanted to do right by them. But he didn’t realize that he couldn’t be their hopeful sun if he burnt himself out before they really needed him.

That’s why you had been waiting for him when he came home from practice, with a new pair of soft pajamas and one of his favorite movies queued up on the television. That’s why you had spent the last few hours with him silently curled up in your arms. And now, with one of your hands running through his golden hair, you wanted Brock to stay as peaceful as he was now.

“I’m going to let everyone down,” he whispers, uttering the first words he’s said since stepping through the doorway. You glance down at him and see his gaze turned elsewhere, far away from you and the present moment.

“What makes you think that?” you ask, knowing not to deny or minimize his fears. To let him work through them.

“I’m not what they need. They need someone who regularly preforms, who is a leader on and off the ice, who will drag the team where they need to be kicking and screaming. Someone strong. That’s not me.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” you reply, continuing to stroke his hair. “I know that if that’s what they need from you, you will take up that responsibility. But I need you to remember that you don’t have to do everything yourself.”

Your gentle words cause Brock to finally look up to you, his eyes looking into yours as you continue.

“You have a whole team behind you, Brock. People who want the same thing you do. People who will do what they need to do to achieve that dream,” you explain, taking a deep breath before you speak your next words – voicing a fear you always had when it came to your ocean of a boyfriend and the depth of his feelings.

“I just know don’t want you to become someone you’re not just because you think that’s what people want you to be. What people need – actually need – is you; the perfect, gentle, sweet soul that you are. And if the hockey world or culture or whatever doesn’t think those are the characteristics of a leader… then it’s them that needs to change, not you.”

You let your bold declaration linger in the stillness of your bedroom, watching Brock’s expression shift as he takes in your words. Another moment of silence passes between you before Brock connects his eyes to yours again and you smile at the softness reflected in his pupils.

“How am I so lucky? That I get to call the most caring person in the world mine?” he asks, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You can’t stop the light laughter that falls from you at his words.

“I think I should be the one asking that question.”

There is no hesitation as you lean into him, Brock welcoming you and it is only a brief moment until your lips touch his, capturing him in a gentle kiss. A kiss which you pour all of your love into. A kiss with a certainty and ferocity that Brock reciprocates.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, tangled in each other’s arms, pressing soft kisses into the other’s lips. It is Brock that pulls away first but he doesn’t move far. Instead, he just inclines his head forward so your foreheads are touching and you can feel the heat of his breath fanning across your cheekbones,

“Thank you,” he whispers to you. And somehow, you know he isn’t just thanking you for your words of kindness and encouragement. He is thanking you for being his anchor, his lifeline in the vastness of the oceans that exist both around him and within him.

“Always.”

#1k cele bakery #nicole writes #brock boeser hurt/comfort #brock boeser blurb #vancouver canucks blurb #nhl blurb #hockey blurb

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zonaenthusiast · 9 months

Text

Time to talk a little bit about a duo I personally love and think is criminally underrated: Usopp and Robin. Rereading their meeting with the tontattas has reminded me how connected they are despite not being very obvious at first glance.

There will be HEAVY MANGA SPOILERS from the most recent arc. From chapter 1066, if I'm not mistaken. You can read the first part without problem if you don't read the manga, I'll let you know when I talk about the events of that chapter.

From the beginning, Usopp was was one of those most opposed to Robin joining the crew along with Zoro. It was quick, yes, but he was the last one (of course, not counting Zoro because that's a whole other post) that she managed to charm.

Robin is stoic, she's brave, she's strange, she's morbid, she's surprisingly inappropriate at times and practically nothing fazes her. Usopp is talkative, he's loud, he's shameless, a not-so-cowardly coward and a charismatic brat who often behaves like a sassy teenager. If you think about it enough, few mugiwaras could be more opposite than these two.

But they have two things in common:

They are incredibly good when they have to lie and pretend.

They both left the crew at the same time.

Usopp didn't get on the train willingly like Sanji did to rescue Robin but he did stay because he wanted to when he could have disengaged himself from her. He made up Sogeking out of embarrassment to help after the events in Water 7, but he stayed.

Their conversation on the train is one of my favorite scenes in the entire Enies Lobby saga because it speaks so much about both of them, their relationship with Luffy, and I think it's where they really start to feel the doubt that maybe leaving him like they did (in different ways and each for their own reasons, but they both left) wasn't the solution to their problems.

Despite having just had one of the biggest arguments of his life with him just hours before, Usopp knows exactly what kind of person Luffy is. He knows that his priority is the welfare of his nakamas, Robin included. She was not present in Arlong Park and did not see with her own eyes what Luffy can do for the people he loves, but he did. Nothing will stop Luffy to do what it takes for them.

Robin had already left by the time the misunderstanding between Luffy and Usopp occurs but she is very perceptive and by the end of the Enies Lobby arc I think we can assume she has been picking up on what has been going on in her absence. I think this arc really brings them together, I think they both feel a little bit guilty (especially him because she, at least, had a legitimate reason) for what they have put the crew through.

And I only thought about all of this recently, after the revelation in chapter 1066. So, MANGA SPOILERS from now on.

Then, in chapter 1066, it's revealed something we were already suspecting at that point: Saul is alive and he is hiding in Elbaf.

We are in the final saga and there are not many islands left to visit, we only know that Elbaf will be one of them. Elbaf will be Usopp's arc, his connection with the giants from Little Garden and his illusion to become a great warrior like them can't come to nothing.

But we also have one poneglyph left to find in order to reach the One Piece, and it can't be a coincidence that the only person alive besides Robin who can read them is a giant. Chances are that the poneglyph itself will be there. So Elbaf will be Usopp's arc but it will also be Robin's arc. Exactly like Water 7 and Enies Lobby were.

What I'm going to say now is more my theories about the events of this arc: I think Elbaf is the place where Luffy and Shanks are going to meet again (we know he is going there and he is looking for the last poneglyph), where Usopp will meet his father and where Robin will give Luffy the last piece he needs to be the Pirate King. Luffy and Robin need each other like no other to achieve their respective goals, so she will also be one step away from fulfilling her dream when this happens.

In Enies Lobby, Usopp and Robin left the crew because they didn't trust Luffy enough. In Elbaf, I'm sure both of them (and Nami as a navigator, of course) will be the key to lead him to Laugh Tale.

I've talked a lot again, oh well.

#one piece #usopp #robin #nico robin #water 7 #enies lobby #elbaf #manga

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omnybus · 2 years

Text

So, a while back, I wrote about how I really appreciate my watchers and commission clients for being so respectful to me, and how I've never dealt with an especially unpleasant client before.

Well, seems I jinxed myself!

The other day I was messaged by someone who asked if I wanted to take part in an unpaid collaborative art project. Normally I would turn down unpaid work, but I figured I might as well hear out what his project was and maybe give it a shout-out to others (I'm too polite; that's my problem). So he sends me a PDF detailing the project in question.

Basically he wanted to make a series of MLP comics starring his OCs along with 20-30 second animations to introduce each one. He also listed several jobs for the members of this project to fulfill: sketching, inking, coloring, cover art, lettering, scriptwriting, character design, prop design, 2D animators, 3D animators... even a "scientist" to help explain the workings of magic and tech in this series as well as "roleplayers" to help with writing character interactions. Like 30+ jobs in total.

While he did give a brief summery of the setting (sci-fi fantasy set 1000 years in the future) and stated there was no set time limit, at no point did he say what the plot of these stories are, how long these comics are supposed to be, how many there were going to be, or really any kind of framework to build off of. Hell, he didn't even name his OCs, let alone provide reference pics. The only thing he offered was the "privilege" of "showcase your own OCs" (which I can already do in my own gallery), "improving your art skills" (which I do literally every time I draw), and the opportunity to "help someone achieve their dream" (no comment).

Overall, everything about this project was incredibly vague and nondescript, and was essentially all going to be made up on the fly every step of the way. I even asked if he had a way to communicate with the other members of this project and all he said was "I have my ways of communicating". Like... why not just tell me? I felt like someone was trying to indoctrinate me into a cult, but they forgot that cult leaders are supposed to be charismatic. It seemed that all he had to offer were a bunch of lofty but nebulous ideas, and this clown was expecting a bunch of people to waste their time and talents helping him write self-insert fanfiction for his OCs and waifus.

But the most audacious part of the whole thing was that included in the PDF was a link to another PDF that was essentially a list of reasons for turning him down, and his explanations on why he won't accept them. They're listed below the cut:

“I’m too Busy, So I have no time to do this.” Reason.

As I’ve explain that Time isn’t an Issue for there is no time limit in my Project.

“I only do Commission’s because I really needed money to pay my Bills and Foods.” Reason.

I’m guessing that you don’t get out much then, surely there’s a Job vacancies around your places somewhere.

“I don’t do Freebies for stranger’s, only Friend’s” Reason.

That’s good rhem because I asked for a Collaboration, NOT a Request nor a Commission for that matter.

“I only draw what I want, I don’t do others and I’m not accepting Commission's either.” Reason.

Then I don’t see what’s the reason or why you posted your Artworks online then for everyone to see, unless of course, you want people to be jealous of you.

“What you just stated IS a Free Project, I’m not wasting my times and patiences for a Project who knows how long that will not help me Pay my Bills.” Reason.

…………, So what’s the problem then?; Please re-read my explanation to know what I mean.

“I appreciate you’ll willing to invite me for such a Big Project but I don’t think my Skills in Artwork’s is impressive enough.” Reason.

If your Artwork’s isn’t impressive enough for me then please tell me these 2 things:

why do you think I invite you to join my Project then?

if you’re that low on confidences about your Artworks, why bother posting it online for everyone to see?

“I just don’t want.” Reason.

Explain specifically and in details why not? please

Which one is your Reason or do you have any other “Reasons” that I miss or don’t know about?

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softtdaisy · 2 years

Note

🌷 Eduardo Saverin

" Sometimes it feels like I think about you every minute," he whispered. "

_every minute

eduardo saverin x fem!reader

based on: "Sometimes it feels like I think about you every minute," he whispered.

summary: you met Eduardo again after weeks apart. one thing is sure, he's still as in love with you as he was before

words: 792

a/n: this sentence was absolutely so sweet I need someone to tell me that??? I hope you will love it 💛

join my secret garden for my 1k celebration 🌸

There was a lot of people in the room, celebrating the launch of Facebook. You had no idea how Mark even managed to invite that many people. Actually, you did. He wasn’t the popular one who could bring that many acquaintances. No, it was the man you couldn’t stop looking at.

Eduardo Saverin.

When the creation of this website started taking too much time in his life, he had to get rid of something to find new minutes in his day. Sadly, you were the thing that got deleted from his planning. You understood. You probably would have offered the breakup if he didn’t break up with you first. You loved Eduardo so much that you were ready to do anything you could to help him achieve his dreams.

And seeing this happy tonight let you know that you did the right thing by taking a few steps back from his life.

Mark was the one who offered you to come. “Since he’s done with his work, he can finally date you again.” he told you, in his usual straightforward way of talking. You laughed at first, mostly because the idea of being in the same room of Eduardo again was stressing you. But then you thought, why not? You could at least congratulate him. And you could discover if things might work out again between you.

He was magnetic, wearing a dark shirt with a black jean, making him look more like the boss than Mark did. Lots of people were trying to him, boys and girls who tried to get just a look from him. You didn’t remember dating a rock star. Or maybe you were just glad that you were the one who used to get all the attention that you never noticed that other people wanted your place.

You were closed to leave when Eduardo finally turned his head towards you. He seemed relieved to see you. You came. You really came to see him. “Excuse me,” he said, interrupting the person next to him. He immediately walked to you, like the world stopped turning and there was only one person in this room. One person in movement. One person that mattered.

You.

“You’re here,” he whispered, bringing a hand to your face to brush your cheek with his fingertips. You loved this sweet gesture. It was so Eduardo like. He was so used of having everything and everyone he wanted, that he always feared losing the only person that he really cared about. He was always so gentle with you. When you feel his skin against yours, you shivered. You didn’t realize how much you missed his touch until now.

You put your hand on top of his. “I couldn’t miss your big night.” You said with a smile. Eduardo opened his mouth to talk but he was interrupted by different people calling him. He looked around him before taking your hand. “Come with me,” he urged you, pulling you by the head. You followed him outside and in a dark room. You quickly recognized the computer room he spent all his time in, or at least he used to when you were dating. You were only illuminated by the moon through the window. It felt intimate.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he murmured, bringing his other hand to your face to push some strands of hair. He looked at you intensely, like he was discovering you again. Every single detail he missed when you were separated. His thumb went on your lips slowly, like he was trying to remember how they tasted like. " Sometimes it feels like I think about you every minute," he whispered.

You never found why, but had many ideas about it, Eduardo was not comfortable with saying I love you. He was a big talker, but you never heard him said these three words, except when he was drunk. However, he was great at finding other way to prove and speak his love to you. And this sentence was one of the most beautiful and honest he had found.

He looked at you, like he needed approbation before doing what he dreamt about doing from the moment he saw. Or from the moment he broke up with you. You nodded slowly; it was almost imperceptible. But he noticed.

And right after that, Eduardo’s lips were on top of yours. He let go of your hand to fully hold your head. He loved holding you when kissing you. It was almost like he wanted to possess every single centimeter of your body when he was doing it. And you were giving it him without hesitation. How could you? This man thought about every minute. And so did you.

#Eduardo saverin #Eduardo Saverin x reader #Eduardo Saverin imagine #Eduardo Saverin story #Eduardo Saverin x you #Eduardo Saverin x y/n #andrew garfield x female reader #andrew garfield #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield x you #andrew garfield x reader #my writing #1k celebration

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palaceofpassion · 2 years

Note

jaune arc is a simple man, he's lived here in the countryside of vale for nearly 40 years, his actions have lead to a village springing up around him as more and more people felt safe in the new area. life is slow but good. he even took an aprentice a few years back teaching them like his father did to him back when he was only a squire. the only problem is that his cute little student is all grown up now and apparently famous and she keeps bringing her friends with her and they all seem to wanna be taught by him for some reason,

also the hell is a dilf? and why do they all keep calling him that?

Jaune Arc had lived a long and fulfilling life. He'd been born and raised in the outskirts of Vale, went on to struggle to become a huntsman, even without the proper education. Managed to achieve his dream, and had found a new lease on life when he realized what it meant to be a hero.

Even though his adventures were cut short, he never once regretted taking action when others would not, even at the cost of his left leg. Saving the Nikos family had been the prime of his life he would say. Of course, just because he couldn't go on adventure's anymore didn't mean he stopped training, not even once in a day in his life.

They'd offered him one a fancy prosthetic, but in the end he'd declined the Nikos kind offer, knowing they would need the money for themselves. In the end he chose to go with a simple wooden peg leg, something that would require little maintenance and not much up keep. With Aura he could make it last longer after all.

Regardless, relocating back to his childhood home had been perhaps the best decision in his life. He'd gotten the chance to train a younger generation, help fortify the surrounding areas an had become something of a well known teacher.

Heck, he'd received quite a few invitations from Headmaster Ozpin to teach at Beacon, and while he'd been flattered by the opportunity, he'd of course declined such an offer.

He preferred teaching in small doses, not having too many rely on him was perhaps for the best. Of course he was proud of his students, no he was extremely proud of them. Each and every pupil he'd taken under his wing had gone off to do great things, fantastic wonderful things.

None more so than the young Nikos girl, whose life he had saved at the cost of his own path.

Despite her being a child at the time, she'd often blame herself for what had happened to him going as far as to say she stopped the world from ever knowing the greatest huntsman to ever live.

Jaune of course would laugh in jest, he never believed himself to be so great. He was only an upstart at the time, no no, he would say his greatest achievement was helping her and others become what he had really dreamed.

So he would comfort her, and under his tutelage she would soar higher than any other.

Despite living out in the boonies, he made an effort to keep track of her exploits. And through out the years the young woman would become a rising star, shining brighter than even the blazing sun!

Though it had been a few years since they'd last seen one another, he was quite pleased to know that she would be stopping by while on Vacation from Beacon.

Apparently she'd mentioned stories to her friends, and they'd wanted to meet him. Why? He wasn't quite sure, after all he doubted that he'd be able to keep up with any of the new generation.

Though, he was quite surprised at how many had joined along with her. Even more shocking was how beautiful his student had become.

Despite being her elder, he could still admit she was truly a blooming flower, and whomever she chose in the future would surely be the luckiest individual out there.

"Master!"

Though it was pleasing to see not all things had changed, the moment the redheaded student spotted him, she was already dashing forth with all her might launching herself into the air and slamming directly into him. Thankfully he'd positioned himself for the impact, bracing as she nearly bowled him over.

"Pyrrha! It's been quite some time."

He accepted her embrace, returning it in favor, letting her go shortly even if she clung to him a bit longer than he had intentioned.

"It's so good to see you!"

Pyrrha pulled away, reluctantly of course, after all it wasn't often that she got to see her master... and appreciate how much he'd aged like a very fine whine♥

Emerald eyes quickly flashed over her friends, who watched the scene silently, speechless as they were she couldn't help but giggle.

The group had had their doubts about her master prior, but she knew that anyone who'd come across him would see him as truly master class! In both his rugged handsomeness, from the trimmed beard and ruffled hair, to the powerful warm aura he exuded making her feel like everything would be alright.

"Greetings."

She loved that he greeted her friends first.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all."

"Oh right! Let me introduce you to my friends, this isn't all of them, but!"

Pyrrha took a step next to her buxom sniper of a partner May. "This is my partner May Zedong."

"He...hello!"

May managed to squeak out with a flushed face, keeping her vision low to the ground.

"This is our teammate Nora Valkyrie!"

"HOWDY!" The loud bombastic bomber quickly turned towards Pyrrha, silently whispering to her, "You weren't kidding, he's a dilf for sure!"

Pyrrha rolled her eyes, though the blush wasn't hard to see against her creamy complexion.

The next and last two were Ruby and Weiss! "And these two are from our sister team, Ruby and Weiss."

"Hellosirit'ssonicetomeetyou!Pyrrha'stoldussomanythings!Isittruethatyousavedherlife?!"

"Breathe Ruby, Breathe."

"Ah... right!"

Her master, for what it was worth chuckled gently. "Of course of course. I did indeed. But that's something anyone would do, hardly worth mentioning."

"Oh my god he's so cool!" Ruby practically squealed to herself.

Weiss, as calm as she was, was trembling slightly. Pyrrha could clearly see the look in her eyes as she drank in her master's visage. She had been the most skeptical of the girls but...

"Right! So we were wondering if you would mind giving us some pointers."

Jaune's eyebrow quirked a bit, "I wouldn't mind of course, but I can't say I'd be able to give you what you haven't learned. You're already being taught by the finest, I doubt that I could provide you with a challenge even now, all things considering. I was just a welp myself after all."

Still, even as he tried to disuade them, the girls seemed oddly interested.

"Well, for now how about we eat? I've prepared a meal."

"Ohohohoh! yes yes!"

Nora began to bounce around, charging after him as he left.

Though he had to wonder, what the heck was a dilf?

#Jaune Arc #DilfArc #Pyrrha Nikos #May Zedong #Weiss Schnee #Ruby Rose #Nora Valkyrie

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skzinka · 1 year

Text

note : thumbnail made by me, don't mind the timestamps !

note 2 : at first, it was just supposed to be a skz-record, but i finally got an idea for a mv, so it became a skz-player, but unfortunately i don't have the pictures anymore to make the thumbnail.. so i left it like that..!

MAIN INFORMATIONS !

TITLE : little circle

RELEASE DATE : january, 2021

LYRICS WRITTEN BY : inka, han (3racha)

COMPOSED BY : inka, han (3racha)

ARRANGED BY : inka, han (3racha), bangchan (3racha)

SONG CLAIM : mermaid by jang yeeun & rohann

BACKGROUND !

as many people know, inka and jisung have difficulty controlling the anxiety they may feel. then one evening when, crushed by the hateful comments of people who are not able to believe in them and support them, they decided to write a song that would motivate them every time they listened to it. they wanted a song that people could relate to and use to blow away their bad opinions, and believe in themselves.

CREATIVE PROCESS !

writing what they felt was not difficult, but making it accessible to everyone was more complicated. so they started writing it down whenever their anxiety wanted to get the better of them, meeting in each other's rooms for the lyrics, before going to the recording studio to do rhythmic tests. they already had a little idea of the melody and the arrangements to be made (all with the help of their beloved leader, bangchan), so the rest of the composition was done without too much hassle. after many weeks, the music finally saw the light of day to the delight of our two artists.

the mv is really emotional because, at first, we see inka walking in a city in the middle of the night, tears silently sliding down her cheeks, with questions and doubts filling her head. we can read the anxiety on her face, while the different shots follow one another, especially when she has trouble mastering a choreography in the dance room, or when she can't control her voice during a recording. then almost before the chorus, we see her blowing for a long time, then arming herself with a bright smile while going on stage, appearing radiant in front of the fans. the videos are from different stray kids' concerts, where we can see inka blossoming and dazzling under the spotlights. and suddenly, she finds herself on a beach, finally joined by jisung who hastens to pull her towards the sea, while laughing and smiling heartily. they have fun and enjoy the happiness of the moment, thinking of nothing else but their beating hearts.

STRAY KIDS' MEMBERS REACTIONS !

the boys were not so surprised by the music, because inka and jisung could not help but sing it all along in the dorms. but the first official listening was followed by applause and congratulations, especially when they understood the nature of the lyrics. knowing that inka isolates herself a lot, jeongin and seungmin were a little surprised to see her "talk openly" about her worries in a song, but they offered her all the support they could.

STAY'S REACTIONS !

some stays understood immediately that the song mentioned jisung's anxiety, and the bad comments that could sometimes slow him down in his career. but most of them were more preoccupied with the lyrics sung by inka, not being able to believe that she could feel the same. the music didn't flop an inch – the link of the song continued to circulate here and there to pass the message hidden behind the lyrics : don't let opinion hold you back, believe in your dreams and work hard to achieve your goals.

INKA'S MESSAGE !

" STAY ! do you like little circle? han and i wrote it together, in order to give you all the love and motivation you need to accomplish your dreams. don't let anyone tell you what to do, be your own boss and believe in your abilities. stay are invincible, right? in any case, stray kids believe in you! so never give up hope, even if everything seems impossible, keep in mind that a dark tunnel always has a bright exit. love you stay 🫶🏻 "

✧⠁taglist : @writerblock-sucks @mynameisnotlaura

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ninhaoma-ya · 1 year

Text

Chapter 1082 — Let’s go and claim it!

It’s getting annoying with how people don’t respect the publishing schedule at all with respects to the leaks. Spoilers have been out for over a week already when the official release is this incoming Sunday. I had to double check on Shueisha, and yes, 1082 is out on the 7th.

It’s like… you’ll still have to wait for the next chapters, y’know? There will be a break at some point, so why not just accept the pace we’re going at?

Oh well, I digress.

On to what you’re here for!

(A word of warning: this will be a jumpy analysis.)

What a horrible way to start the chapter :(

Although a minor side-bob, I really liked T-Bone. And yes, that’s why Oda killed him off: to show how well the Cross Guild’s plan is working, pitting civilians and pirates alike against the marines.

Although only some enlightened marines see it. Others are wilfully blind.

I wonder, Sengoku, I really do. The name Ohara doesn’t ring a bell? Flevance? Alabasta? Dressrosa? All the people on Sabaody sold in the human shops? The people in the Blues, extorted by worms like Nezumi? Egghead, a governmental island that’s going to be blown to kingdoms come as soon as Kizaru gets there?

Tsuru is truly a great strategist, able to see all sides, although she loses some points for still condemning the culprit…

…through whose eyes we see the devastation.

And Buggy is such a great showman! He does know how to get his people roaring..

..except for his oldest and dearest who are happy to listen to him being tortured.

Shame. Shame on you.

(This is totally on you, Mihawk and Crocodile. You saw what the devotion of his fans did to the Cross Guild poster and yet you let them create the ship?)

The ship is beautiful. I wonder what it’s called.

And now we learn about the importance of communication, boys and girls:

Shanks: Why don’t you share your reasoning with your old friend Buggy?

Buggy: Why do you assume Shanks wanted you to become a subordinate when he said “join me”? And why don’t you talk with Shanks about your and his dreams and see if you can find some common ground, instead of burying your own dreams because you thought someone else had a better shot at achieving them?

I really like Buggy vocalising his dream.

And the strategic genius of rallying the troops.

Yes, almost all pirates we’ve seen have been touched by Roger and the dream of the One Piece one way or another. It’s a great move to remind them of it — now they’re part of your crew and you, Great Chairman Buggy, obviously have a chance.

And rallying the troops keeps your bosses from killing you.

And, of course, the sheer romanticism of Buggy. He still believes, deep within, doesn’t he?

And the second part – it's nice to get some new faces and Koala my beloved, but:

WHAT HAPPENED? PLEASE, FINALLY TELL US!

I assume we’ll be going back to Egghead next chapter since we’ve been gone for quite a while and thus Sabo’s revelation will be left a cliffhanger for the upcoming year or so.

Such is story pacing and weekly cycles.

But then.

Oda’s line art.

It’s getting worse and worse. I really hope they finally convince him to let an assistant take over the inking, because this is not good.

Sure, the assistant-drawn neat backgrounds save a lot, such as in the above Tsuru/Sengoku-panel, but One Piece is still a character-focused story, with a lot of personal close-ups. And Oda’s lack of time (and probably weakening eyesight and increasing age) is showing so clearly.

There are so many who would love to help Oda create this masterpiece. Please, let them help.

Transport chapter, but I give it a dream come true and a wish upon a star.

#one piece #ch 1082 #one piece spoilers #opspoilers #nin reads one piece #venting about line art

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lol-jackles · 7 months

Text

One Piece review

Stories in One Piece stories are zany, but it works because it is classically told, with a focus on character, a journey together, the various characters' flaws getting them in trouble, triumph over hardship, and the camaraderie between crew members. It's also just a really wholesome, fun show in an era of entertainment that's teaming with forced messaging and just dismal dystopia views and so on. The One Piece offers a a nice change of pace from all of the grimdark medieval-fantasy shows and repetitive, formulaic superhero adaptations. Simply put, the show was made on the on the foundation of joy.

The world building was great. It gives you the scope and scale. I just love how snails are inexplicably used for communication for everything without explanation. It just is, so just go with it.

The fight scenes were cartoonish and you can see everybody doing fights and that's why it's great. None of that stupid multiple cutaways.

The casting was top notch. Both main character and side characters were distinctive and with believable emotional motivation. Every. Single. Actor. commits to their character, making them believable and far deeper than I expected.

Like the show, Luffy is a risk taker, smart, dumb, and brave. Luffy is relentlessly upbeat about everything most of the time, but he also gets to be angry and sad. When he shows those feelings it lets you know his character more. The acting choice really worked with this character, and hence made the whole show work.

Luffy is the personification of freedom, hence why he wants to be a pirate. But every pirate the adult Luffy runs into are bad: destroying towns and killing or taking slaves (Alvida) or literal captive audiences for their ego (Buggy) or forced to pay back breaking tribute to them (Arlong). These pirates may have started out like Luffy, embracing adventure and freedom, but after 20 years of not achieving their dreams and leaving them with crushed egos, they become cruel and subjugate others just to prove the illusion of strength and power. They are just as obsessed with how they are perceived as today’s youths on Instagram. The first pirate we meet through adult Luffy was Alvida, she learned from a captive that she’s not even on the pirate bounty hunter's list and killed the captive out of petty wounded ego. Buggy the clown pirate rants about not having a spotlight and Arlong gives one to many pity parties over humans not respecting his species.

In contrast, Luffy doesn’t care how others see him as, letting others choose to see him as a villain or hero. He doesn't do what he does to be seen as good but because he wants. He frees Kobe from Alivida and due to his enslavement from pirates, it’s understandable that Kobe has a rather dim views of them and he joins the Marines to protect people from pirates. But similar to Luffy’s experience, Kobe learns that some Marines are corrupt and make deals with some pirates to either line their own pockets or to maintain the Old Guard. But just like Luffy, Kobe does not allow the challenges to his world view to deter him from his dreams of becoming a good Marine and reform the institution, just like Luffy wants to restore piracy to their glory days of adventuring.

I liked how it was pointed out that the pirate’s personal freedom and the bounty of their heads turned it into a literal “price of freedom”. The more they exercise their freedom as pirate, the more they must shoulder results of their actions. Some pirates embraced it, others found it suffocating as they can’t let down their guard and even kill their own crewmen out of paranoia.

Despite Kobe’s low key persona, he probably has the strongest will out of all the characters. The show does a good job showing the paradox of two friends who have completely opposite and colliding dreams (one a pirate and the other a marine) yet they still choose to act with integrity with one another.

The show gives a lot respect to parental figures. Every character has a background that can be traced to important people who imparted them with good morals, which lead them to what they are today. Even when they disagree or clash, both parties can see eye to eye and no one is portrayed as an asshole or antiquated just because they are not hip with the kids. The relationship between Zeff and Sanji was especially emotional, that good bye was an honest manly tear jerker.

Nami has the quiet intensity that has one of the best backstory. She was strong without being a girl boss, and she was allowed to break down and be vulnerable. The boys were allowed to protect and help her, and it drew them closer as a crew. Sure, Luffy has the strength and heart, and Zorro has the strength, skills and loyalty, and Sanji has fight skills that rivals his cooking skills, but Nami is possibly the smartest one of the lot of them. It just occurred to me Strawhats literally can't function without her because no one else seems to know how to navigate the sea.

The music was freaking excellent and did a terrific job at capturing the spirit of adventure, which is key to One Piece's story. It felt like goofier and more playful Pirates of the Caribbean, and it reminded me how much fun the OG was.

Conclusion: One Piece's first season is full of heart, optimism, excitement, and charm. Villains are clearly defined and heroes strive to do what's right. I enjoyed the earnest campiness equally with the earnest wholesome vibe. Sure there where some dark as hell moments, but it never lets that fee like the point. Luffy is a golden hearted character that believes I the best in the world around him, and the show unabashedly puts that on display without feeling the need to cynically tear it down. I feel feel that a lot of modern media is most scared to be that sincere in its optimism, like people won’t take it seriously if the story isn’t cynical and cruel. The genius of the One Piece is it gets people to take the story seriously in spite of the pure zaniness because it feels like old fashioned escapist storytelling Hollywood used to be capable of producing. Characters are layered and worth caring for. The core idea of following your dreams and encouraging the dreams of those around you merely uses pirate fantasy as its delivery system.

#One Piece

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hello-nichya-here · 1 year

Note

Why do you think Tywin had a much more negative reaction to Tyrion marrying Tysha than did to Jaime and Cersei's incestuous affair?

For a few reasons.

Tyrion is Tyrion

That one fact is always very present in Tywin's mind. Tyrion is a dwarf. He is barely considered human by most people, and in fact, many assumed he truly was some monstruous abomination when he was born.

He brings shame to the Lannisters just by existing, and his first action in this world was "murdering" his own mother - Tywin's wife, the one person he genuinely loved.

Tyrion could have been the best person in the whole world and the perfect heir - and in fact he IS Tywin's "true son" even more than Jaime due to how simmilar they are - and it still would not have mattered. He is Tyrion, therefore everything he does is wrong somehow, and requires a severe punishment.

Elitism

Cersei and Jaime's affair might be taboo, but it is still between two nobles, two Lannisters. Not to mention, the Targaryens used to marry brother to sister all the time, and Tywin grew up knowing that, sometimes, that kind of thing is excused and even seen as a sign of their basically divine right to rule - provided the family in question has enough power to get away with this.

Tyrion marrying a common girl is a completely different story. When we hear Jaime explaining their father's reasoning to Tyrion, we find out that Tywin is 100% sure Tysha was only marrying Tyrion for his money, not for genuine love, and therefore was no better than a whore.

From Tywin's perspective, Tyrion was an idiot who fell for the first woman - the first whore - that told him some sweet little lies, to the point that he would disgrace the entire family just to marry her.

Tywin sleeps with prostitutes, in fact, he even slept with Shae, Tyrion's replacement for his first wife. But he is discrete about it, and would never even dream of letting any of them to become anything more than just a whore he pays to pleasure him every now and then. Tyrion marrying a common girl (which again, means the same as whore in his mind) is not just shameful, it's a disaster.

Even in his brutal punishment for both of them, when he forces Tyrion to watch Tysha be raped and then do the same to her, Tywin has the guards pay her with copper coins, while Tyrion gives her gold one because a Lannister is worth more.

Open Defiance

While Jaime joining the Kings Guard (so he wouldn't be forced to marry another woman and be set away from his twin) was not at all in Tywin's plans and is definitively something he'd consider bellow his first-born, his heir, that is still a position of great honor, and one could easily imagine a man like Jaime being genuine when he says he'd rather be a fighter his whole life than have lands, a wife and children.

We also see Tywin spending YEARS trying to make Jaime break his vows, and even uses Tyrion's trial to achieve that. He went easier on his favorite son, yes, but he did NOT accept Jaime's choice, just like he didn't accept Tyrion's.

And there WAS a punishment for the twins. He took Cersei back to Casterly Rock with him, so they couldn't be together, at least not until Cersei was to marry the king - which she was fully willing to do, despite her love for Jaime, and their affair was a secret, which likely contribuited to Tywin sparing them a harsher punishment.

Tyrion meanwhile married Tysha completely behind his father's back, and anyone who knew Tywin would instantly know that he did NOT approve of this. This was Tyrion screaming that HE decided he'd live, not his father, and that shit just does not fly with a man like Tywin Lannister - hell, Cersei got a taste of that too when Tywin wanted to force her to marry again to try to silence the rumors of incest, despite her terrible experience with Robert making her understandably only want to be with Jaime, the man she chose for herself.

If you're Tywin's child, you do as you're told. You're his property. Which leads us to:

Loss of a potentially valluable asset

Tywin hates Tyrion. But that hatred never stopped him from using Tyrion's wit to his advantage, and he even had Tyrion marry Sansa to make sure the North would be under the control of house Lannister.

Sure, the fact that he is a dwarf made it harder for Tyrion to be "useful" when it came to marriage (hell, he was often offered to families as an insult) but it was not at all impossible.

Not until Tyrion went and married a girl that had literally nothing to offer to house Lannister. No lands, no money, no allies, no influence, no great historical relevance, nothing. Just an "ambitious whore" who forgot her place, and is giving a ton of happiness for the deformed monster that killed Tywin's wife.

Once again, compare that to Cersei marrying the freaking king, and Jaime taking an oath that was bellow him but still honorable and a reason for pride, and tell me which of his kids Tywin will be mad at.

#asks #tywin meta #tywin lannister #tyrion lannister #rape mention #tyrion meta #ableism #elitism #misogyny

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