#i mean none of this is particularly original i'm sure it has been said before lol

[la-pheacienne]

it is extremely funny to me that Jon is the character that inspires the most insane asoiaf ship wars, of all characters. Jon. Jon!! Think about it. The boy is just in pure suffering throughout the entire story. He's just trying to cope, he's minding his own business, he's fed up and he's also dead last time we saw him. The burden on his shoulders is so so heavy and he's just a boy ffs. Like I'm mainly concerned by how on earth is he going to survive this and when is he ever gonna get a break and just, live basically. But because he's the only, singular, male character with an iota of decency and integrity, he suddenly becomes this golden boi archetype that everyone wants to claim as the ultimate prize for their fav gal. Leave the poor guy alone, even in the meta world the furies don't stop pursuing him somehow

#it would be nice to just stop treating jon as a prize for your fav ok #he's not a prop #jon snow #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #aspa rambles #i mean none of this is particularly original i'm sure it has been said before lol #i'm just talking to myself

[marmot567]

bitter orange — okkotsu yūta [1/3]

pairings. okkotsu yūta + f! reader/original character (main); past!orimito rika + f!reader; past!okkotsu yūta + orimito rika warnings/themes. mentions of death, jealousy, hints of obsession and possession. just a lil dark romance practice (which is barely any dark romance tbh who am i kidding) sprinkled with food motifs but i dont know what im doing im just here for the vibes :P mostly sfw with nsfw themes but nothing sexual bc im too scared to go down that dark path (also no use of y/n bc i started writing with an original name and it unfortunately stuck lawl... can be treated as either or it doesnt matter tbh i cant write anything outside of 2nd person anwyay) word count. 2.8k words nothing too crazy xd playlist. knuckle velvet, ethel cain; velvet ring, big thief; pure, cigarettes after sex; only in the dreams, the marias; be my mistake, the 1975; mary, alex g next

it’s been a long time since i have seen my beloved. the moss has grown on that abetachibana tree

PART ONE: ichigo daifuku

Gojō Satoru tells you that love is the most twisted curse of them all.

He had said it in passing after your first solo mission, right as you were entering the car back to Jujutsu Tech before talking your ear off with his lame jokes. The mission had consisted of exorcizing a curse that had persistently haunted an abandoned apartment complex in Omotesandō, assigned to you by the higher-ups in accordance with your newly promoted rank as a Grade 2 sorcerer, having decided that a Grade 1 was doable enough for someone of your caliber. The curse itself wasn’t anything special, though, only repeating gargled confessions of its love to some ‘Chiyo-chan’—whoever she was—the whole time you were dodging its attacks, which was incredibly annoying. You liked your battles in silence, quick and succinct, but curses make that difficult to achieve.

Gojō muses it could have been a past lover, this Chiyo-chan—its love for her having cursed itself. You didn’t really care. If you keep up the good work, complete your required missions and get another recommendation, you could be ranked a Semi-Grade 1 by your second year, then a Grade 1 by your third and nothing else after that because unless you were someone like Gojō Satoru, then you are capped forever at Grade 1.

“So anyway—snacks you like?” said sorcerer asks, finally done with his previous tale. Something about an old coworker. “Mochi, senbei, or taiyaki? Personally, I'm a mochi ice cream type of guy!”

You look at him.

“Why are you here again?”

“... Is your memory that small, Ume? I was proctoring you,” he tuts, mouth turned downwards. “Congrats on the promotion, by the way.”

You shrug. “Ichigo daifuku is good, I guess.”

He smiles, wryly.

“You’re joking, right?”

+

The building facing your childhood home had been home to Orimito Rika, an unsuspecting property with a decent front yard and the occasional street cat or two often shooed away by her irate grandmother. “Mean granny,” you’d often call her, the insult drowned out by your hushed giggles as you played with your dolls. Rika wouldn’t say anything about it, wouldn’t dare verbally agree with you, but she would always nod her head down, the corners of her lips turned up too high.

You didn’t particularly hate the old woman, but there was a certain kind of satisfaction to saying it behind her back after all the times you’ve caught her looking at her granddaughter in unbridled scorn, your own little form of revenge. You could never understand how her only remaining family could look at her like that, not when Rika was so beautiful and kind; like the cherry blossoms during spring, falling gently along with the wind. Sure, she could be a little cunning at times, and none of the other kids at school liked her because “something’s odd about her, can’t you just hang out with us instead?”��but that’s what makes her interesting, right?

Rika isn’t weird, she’s pretty, and you’re the bee drawn to her. She’s only older than you by a year, ten instead of nine, but she always played with you, taught you how to make flower crowns at the park, and when you walked home from school she’d always hold your hand. Her smile is blindingly bright, the sound of her voice a song you couldn’t stop listening to. Selfishly, you wish it would always be the two of you together; playing with your dolls, walking home with your hands intertwined.

But when she came back from the hospital, so did Okkotsu Yūta.

You could never see what she saw in him; he was short and just a little bit pathetic, always trailing after her like a lost puppy at first. You could push him off the swing and he'd move on with a sniffle, the kind to give up the plastic shovel even though he desperately needed it to finish his sand castle because he didn’t want to fight a girl. He smiled shyly and hid his hands behind his back, looking at you like he was looking for your approval. Of course, you never gave him the time of day, because it felt like he had stolen Rika—your Rika. It was supposed to be just you and her, but that wasn’t the case anymore. Now there was Okkotsu Yūta, who held Rika’s other hand after school, who took away her attention from you so easily.

“He’s so cute, isn’t he?” she asks often, a light blush dusting her face.

“I guess,” is your reply.

“Ne,” she calls, presenting to you a small, black box. You look at it in apprehension, wincing when she eventually opens it. “What do you think of this ring? It was my mom’s. I’m gonna give this to Yūta-kun, do you think he’ll like it?”

The ring was immensely simple, a silver-colored band with a small diamond in front, glinting under the light. Nevermind the fact that it was too big for a child’s fingers to fit in, Rika presented it to you as if it held all the answers to the world. Although her parents were dead, and she had definitely stolen it from her grandmother’s dresser, the ring spoke full of promise. When she takes it out of the box and lets you inspect it, it feels heavy.

“... You really like him, don’t you, Rika-chan?” you ask, quietly.

Rika looks at the stupid piece of jewelry, painfully smitten.

“Mhm,” she affirms. “I really like Yūta-kun. I want to be with him forever! Of course, I like you too, Ume-chan. You and Yūta-kun are my favorite people in the world!”

You close the box, handing it back to her. When Rika looks at you expectantly, you realize then that you could never bring yourself to take that happiness away from her.

+

The koinobori flies.

“It’s so pretty!” Rika exclaims, eyes wide and staring up at the sky where the huge, windsock carp moves around. It’s bathed in all sorts of colors—from red to blue to white to green—dancing along the azure expanse in commemoration of Children’s Day. The weather is just right, not too hot nor too cold, and the wind caresses your skin gently, the sun not too harsh. It makes the color of Rika’s hair shine in all the right ways, adds more sparkle in her already bright eyes. She’s wearing a yellow sundress, a nice change from her usual blue one. The cream-colored hat you let her borrow covers her face with the shade, but her smile remains bright and blinding. She looks pretty.

She gives you all of her ichigo daifuku, and shares Yūta’s snacks. She doesn’t even like chimaki.

“Are you sure, Rika-chan?” you ask, looking at the two sweets in your hands.

She beams. “You like them, don’t you?”

You keep them with you until the end of the event.

The day passes by incredibly fast, your little trio having exhausted yourselves from running around the park alongside the other children. Yūta chases Rika around the park, and you watch them squeal and laugh at each other and hold hands. You watch them take a nap under the shade, their pinkies intertwined, and you watch as the ugly color of green blinds your eyesight. You leave them be.

Sometimes, you wish you’re the colorful koinobori flying in the sky. You’d let Rika hold on to you, let her fly and hear her amused laugh as the wind tickles her skin. Sometimes, you wish Yūta slapped the ring away from her hands when she handed it to him. Wish he stomped it on the ground and at the same time stomped on her heart. Wish he didn’t take it with a huge smile and agree that he’d marry her when they get older; he’s not the one who’d wait long lines just to get her the best ichigo daifuku, not the one who’d jump at the other kids when they so much as think of insulting her, and he won’t be the one who’d choose to stay with her when she’s all gray and old cause he’s a boy, and boys would never do that.

Sometimes, you wish he never liked her at all—because he never deserved her in the first place.

Okkotsu Yūta could never love Orimito Rika like you.

+

He sits beside you at lunch.

Rika’s been bedridden for the whole week, which subsequently ruins your week. Yūta doesn’t seem to mind her absence all that much since he doesn’t see her a lot during classes anyway, but they’re supposed to be engaged. He should always be thinking of her, should be acting as miserable as you even at the unripe age of nine. He looks too okay with her absence when he shouldn’t be.

“What’s this?” you ask, pointing at the small bag of snacks he had placed on the cover of your bento.

“Hm?” he looks up. “Oh, it’s norimaki senbei.”

“... And?” you prod.

He tilts his head. “You don’t want it?”

“... I don’t want it.”

He looks at you thoughtfully.

“But you like them, don’t you?” he asks though he’s acting like he already knows, like you’ll take it regardless of what you say. It’s annoying.

You look at the seaweed-wrapped rice crackers—the stupid norimaki senbei—in mild contempt. “Why are you giving it to me?”

Yūta’s smile is small, knowing. “Because you don’t like sweets.”

You frown.

+

She’s a sweet girl.

You think of Orimoto Rika like that because it’s true—she smiles sweetly, she speaks sweetly, and she likes sweet things. She tells you that her favorite snack is ichigo daifuku, the very same confection you always begged your parents to buy for you just so you could share them with her. It pays off all the time because then she’d look as sweet as the daifuku itself, her cheeks as red as the fruit within it. She also likes hanami dango, but she doesn’t like the green part because she doesn’t really like the subtle taste of yomogi, so you eat the rest for her because she doesn’t want to waste it. She likes cold tea instead of hot, sweet instead of savory, like yuzu iced tea or bubbly ramune in comparison to the nutty taste of hōjicha. When you go to the store, she always gets the kompeitō with some random anime character on the packaging because those were the “cutest kind of kompeitō,” and Rika likes cute things.

She also likes the color pink, but when you ask her what her favorite color is she’d say it’s blue. It’s blue not because she wears that blue dress all the time, but blue because it’s the color of Okkotsu Yūta’s eyes, bright and round and always looking at her. Rika likes it that way—she likes how Okkotsu Yūta is always looking at her with his blue eyes, unwavering and full of adoration for her and her only.

You think Orimito Rika is a sweet girl, but sometimes she’s more than that. Sometimes, when the other kids get brave enough to drag you away from her, tell you to stop hanging out with her, they say it’s because Rika doesn’t like anyone else but Okkotsu Yūta.

Sometimes, when they tell you that, you wonder if Rika liked you at all, way before Okkotsu Yūta came into the picture.

But most of the time, you don’t really care. Even if Rika didn’t like you, you’d still like her. Even if she’d only have her eyes set on Okkotsu Yūta with his stupid blue eyes and his stupid norimaki senbei and stupid chimaki that he shared with her on the fifth of May, you’d still like her because she’s Rika—beautiful, kind, and wonderful Rika.

She has things she doesn’t like, too, such as other people but never Yūta-kun or Ume-chan! She likes it when people compliment her and praise her looks and give her free stuff like ramune or ichigo daifuku or Sailor Moon-themed kompeitō from the store, but sometimes she tells you that she dislikes this certain group of girls from Yūta’s class, dislikes the boy assigned as your seatmate, her homeroom teacher, the “weird” guy who works at the konbini a street over, and dislikes it even more when her grandmother looks at her and tells her she killed her own father without even saying anything at all.

You know all those things because you know Orimito Rika. You like her even if she holds intense dislike for the people outside her circle, people who tick her off just a little for you to see her smile crack at the edges and go stiff, the little twitch of her brown eyes, and most importantly, you still like her when all she wants in the world is the attention of the boy who wears her deceased mother’s ring.

You’ll always want sweet girls like her.

+

“Where’s Rika-chan?”

“Her grandma won’t let her go out today,” Yūta says, sitting next to you on the bench. “So it’s just you and me.”

He says it dejectedly, but it’s not enough for you. If he was really sad, then he’d be as sad as you are, so you start packing your belongings. “I’m leaving, then.”

He startles, standing up. “Huh? W–wait! Don’t leave just yet!”

“But Rika-chan’s not here,” you frown. “There’s no point in hanging out today.”

He falters, looking down at the ground.

“Even if she isn’t here, we can still play together…” he offers, looking up at you timidly. “We’re friends, too, aren’t we?”

The green-eyed monster stares at the silver chain wrapped around his neck, the ring acting as its pendant tucked underneath his shirt—like an unattainable treasure trapped inside a chest with the key thrown away somewhere you cannot find it. We’re not friends, the monster says with a snarl, stay away from me.

If there is one thing you know, then it’s that you have never wanted to be friends with Okkotsu Yūta, not after he took everything from you. He can butter you up by sticking to you during class and sitting next to you at lunch and even offering you some of his not-ichigo daifuku, not-yuzu iced tea, and not-colorful anime-themed kompeitō but you will and have never liked him for the green-eyed monster will always sit on your shoulder so long as he wears that ring on his person, a physical manifestation of his promise with Rika. Your Rika, even if that’s not really the case.

You will never like Okkotsu Yūta, because—because he—

“... What’re we even gonna do?” you ask, slowly.

He immediately brightens up.

“… Wanna get ice cream?” he offers. “There’s a new flavor I wanna try!”

His suggestion does not entice you at all, but when he stands there with an outstretched hand waiting for you to take it, like it’ll matter if you reject him, you find yourself at a crossroads. But you make your decision soon enough. Like it’ll matter, like the green-eyed monster isn’t there, staring.

“Okay,” you say, moving past him to start walking. He blinks incredulously at the blatant rejection before gathering himself and following after you, a prep to his step regardless of your actions.

You try to ignore the warmth of his body next to yours.

He’s too close.

+

“Yūta-kun’s birthday is in a few days,” Rika announces, lying on your spare futon. “Did you get him anything?”

You didn’t. “... Yeah.”

“Really? What is it?” she cranes her neck to face you. “What’d you get him?”

She doesn’t want your gift being better than hers, it checks out. “Um… just a toy. A garbage truck.”

“Oh, okay,” she turns back to face the ceiling. “I made him a scrapbook with photos of us. I worked really hard on it… do you think he’ll like it?”

“He’ll like anything you give him.”

She’s already given him a ring—what else could compare to that?

Rika smiles. “I guess… you’re right.”

Soon enough, she goes to sleep, breathing softly beside you as your fan fills the silence of the night. You continue staring at the ceiling, making out the little dents despite the lack of light. You squeeze the hand that holds your under the cover, before closing your eyes.

You hear her softly breathe on a steady beat alongside the fan whirring in the corner, and you close your eyes, squeezing her hand tighter underneath the covers of your too-close futon.

You’ll have to ask your parents for some money tomorrow.

+

“Rika-chan isn’t here again,” Yūta says dejectedly. “Her granny’s too strict.”

“She hates her,” you say quietly.

Yūta looks at you, confused. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing. Your birthday’s coming up soon, what are you doing that day?”

“Uwah—you remember?”

“Rika-chan told me.”

“Oh, well,” he smiles sheepishly, “we have school that day, but after that I’ll be celebrating at my house. I’m thinking of just inviting Rika-chan and you over… um, so, will you come?”

“I’ll go if Rika-chan is going.”

He blinks, before a smile blooms on his face. “Okay! I’ll see you, then.”

+

It happens when you aren't there.

It never should have happened at all.

Orimito Rika is pronounced dead at the age of eleven, her body unrecognizable under the heavy weight of a blue truck.

#yuuta okkotsu x reader #jjk #yuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen #jjk okkotsu #jjk x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x you #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta okkotsu smut #jjk imagines

[fullsunrise]

Playing With Fire (M)

Word count: 1.8k

Pairing: Johnny x Original female character

Genre: Office AU, some angst, light smut

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, Johnny is a bully, heavy sexual themes, non-explicit smut (don't hookup with your coworkers!), uh semi-public sex

A/N: Uhhh I don't know what this is, but it's pretty much self-indulgent lmao

There was nothing quite like early winter in the city, with the twinkling lights tangled in the bare trees and a to-go coffee that was almost too hot. This early in the morning, there was no one around. It was calming, and Nari wanted to appreciate the silence before all hell broke loose. She sat on the unoccupied bench outside of her building, savoring the last five minutes she had until she had to face her worst nightmare. That nightmare happened to have a name: Johnny.

Johnny Suh from Sales. Even thinking about him made Nari’s eye twitch. Ever since she was forced to work with him on her latest project, he made it his sole mission to make her life a living hell. Never once in Nari’s career has she had to work with someone so egotistical, cunning, and above all else: annoyingly attractive.

Although she had been working at her company for the last two years, she had never heard of him. Not until she saw an unfamiliar name CC’d on an email from her boss. Confused, she made her way to her boss’s office.

“He's been here almost as long as you have, I believe,” her boss told her. “Great guy, it should be a breeze working with him.”

It was hilarious how wrong he was. Nari’s reality was most definitely not a breeze, but more like a hurricane. Whatever higher being set this up was surely laughing at her now as she struggled against the powerful storm.

To stand any chance, Nari knew she needed any advice she could get. And who else was more equipped than Jaehyun? After years of working at law firms across the city, Nari was sure he was the only person who could understand how to deal with egotistical monsters.

“I'm just saying, maybe try to avoid any interactions with the guy. I mean he's clearly a prick,” Jaehyun said, then took a sip of his beer.

“Trust me, I've been trying to avoid him but it's impossible when we have to work directly together,” Nari replied.

It was hopeless. Johnny was too smart. Careful not to push it too far, he was only condescending to her face. He made sure his actions spoke for him, though. Like last week when he went out to lunch with their project team, he accidentally forgot to invite her. And just a day ago, she swore he was whispering about her to another coworker in the kitchen. Then he laughed loud enough for Nari to hear, only confirming her suspicions. It was subtle, but enough to make her go insane.

“Don't let him get to you,” Jaehyun offered. “You know he's only doing this because he feels threatened by you.”

Threatened? Why would Johnny be threatened by her? Nothing about her was particularly threatening. Sure, Nari was good at her job but she never did anything that would cause someone to dislike her. And certainly she would never step on anyone just to get a promotion. In her corporate life, Nari made sure to remain honest, social, and professional. Unlike Johnny, who couldn't have a more opposite approach.

“I’ll try,” she replied. “But enough about me. How's it going in your world?”

“Same ol’ bullshit as always,” he chuckled.

They spoke about their jobs for a while longer, laughing at random anecdotes from the week. Nari didn't speak about Johnny again, and shortly the thought of him was washed down along with her Gin and tonic. Somewhere between her first and third drinks, Jaehyun asked her how her dating life had been. It caught her off guard only for a moment as she reached for an answer in her muddled brain. With her thoughts slowed, the best she managed to pull was a horrific yet comical dating story. Jaehyun laughed along with her and shared his own. It was always weird talking about her love life with Jaehyun but it was still nice nonetheless. But she would never get used to it, even though there were no lingering feelings left between them.

Nari came back to her apartment feeling a bit lighter after seeing Jaehyun. While he helped her forget about Johnny momentarily, Nari dreaded tomorrow. It was the day of the company holiday party. Normally Nari looked forward to it every year, but the idea of running into Johnny made her stomach churn. Sure, there were going to be a lot of employees and plus ones but the chance of seeing him wasn't zero.

The next day quickly flew by, with little to no urgent work that needed to get done. Nari always appreciated slow work days, but today she wished the day lasted a bit longer. Because as the moon rose in the sky, she knew could no longer hide.

The rooftop lounge was packed with her coworkers spread out across fancy bar top tables. Nari and a few of her team members claimed a spot close to the bar. While she was promised it would limit any unwanted interactions, the idea of walking up with all eyes on her made her mouth dry.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” Nari shouted on top of the loud music.

Much to her relief, Nari didn't recognize the people she passed on her way to the bar. No Johnny in sight, her shoulders relaxed instantly.

“One Old Fashioned, thanks,” the guy with slicked back hair in front of her ordered. Ugh, what kind of person would order that?

The guy with the slicked back hair turned around, and the moment Nari locked eyes with him she was frozen in place. The worst scenario Nair conjured in her mind was happening right now, in real life.

Johnny looked at her for a second before turning away to talk to his friend. That didn't bother Nari, but the fact that he decided to brush past her like she was invisible set her off.

Chasing after Johnny wasn't how Nari expected to spend her night, but there she was pushing through the crowd. Johnny moved fast, but she was able to catch up in the bathroom hallway.

“Why?” The liquor coursed through her veins, giving her the courage to speak up.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Johnny deadpanned, as he turned around to look straight through her. It was clear he was avoiding her question, which in turn only made her angrier.

“Don't play dumb, you know what you're doing,” she accused, her voice raising.

“You're going to be a bit more specific than that, sweetheart,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest.

“So you're just going to pretend like you haven't made my life a living hell the last few months?”

“I think that's too harsh,” he answered, his expression softening. That look could've worked on other women, but Nari wasn't going to give in.

“It's the truth, you've hated me ever since that day.”

“When did I say I hated you?”

Jaehyun’s words echoed in her mind. “Admit it, you’re threatened by me.”

Bingo. Her words seemed to strike a nerve with Johnny, because the next thing she knew he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the bathroom. Warning signs went off in her head immediately, but it happened so quickly that she couldn't break away.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” he seethed, taking a step closer to her.

Was he always standing this close? The temperature was rising, and Nari could feel the blood rush into her cheeks.

“I think I do,” Nari breathed, trying to sound confident. But her quivering voice didn't fool him.

His kisses were feverish against her skin he left bites along the curve of her neck. As he made his way down to her collarbone, Nari’s eyebrows scrunched together. With her lips slightly parted in pleasure, Johnny took the opportunity to steal the air from her lungs in one swift motion. His lips were rough and chapped from the cold, but the way they molded to her own left her utterly breathless. When he abruptly bit her lower lip and gazed at her, she knew she was done for. Deep desire pooled in his eyes and her body craved more of the pleasure he brought. Nari knew right then and there that she had no plans of stopping him.

“No, you don't,” he asserted, breaking the kiss for only a second before diving back in.

Her back was flush against the wall now, the cool tile contrasting against the heat of her skin. Johnny held the side of her jaw forcefully, with his other hand tracing the contour of her waistband. Out the window was her moral compass along with her dignity, her judgment clouded with pure desire.

The sensation of his hand dipping lower only added to her bubbling lust. Without warning, he snaked his hand out of her waistband. Nari whined at the loss and Johnny chuckled in amusement.

“Oh?” he mused, his grin never leaving his face. “You don't like that?”

Nari could only shake her head in response, her brain too muddled to think clearly. Satisfied with her frazzled state, Johnny resumed his motions. Her gasps bounced off the bathroom walls as she chased the high, no longer caring who could hear. With each moan that escaped her lips, she began to fall apart. Strands of hair came loose and tears of pleasure pooled. Her release was imminent, but before she could reach the climax Johnny suddenly stopped.

“I'm sorry, did you want more?” he asked, forehead pressed to her own.

Falling from her high, the reality of the situation came back into focus. What the hell was she doing? Not too long ago Nari couldn't even fathom being in the same room as Johnny, let alone letting herself unravel in front of him. It almost sickened her how quickly she folded under his spell. He knew exactly what he was doing and Nari was willingly falling right into his trap.

“Please,” she replied as she tried to catch her breath.

That was all Johnny needed to continue. With her pleasure still heightened, it took Nari only a few minutes to fully come undone. If Johnny wanted, she would let him take her right then and there. All the sirens in her head told her it was wrong, but why did it feel so right?

“See you tomorrow,” he snickered as he pulled away from her. Giving her a quick once over, he left the bathroom without another word.

Left alone with nothing but her reeling thoughts, Nari glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Disheveled hair and smudged mascara. Nari could barely recognize herself. As she attempted to fix her unruly state, Johnny’s words mocked her. Their little affair was going to cost her. She wasn't going to get fired over it, no, but her impulses were going to cost her the little bit of sanity she had left. Johnny was going to take it all and ruin her beyond recognition.

#nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct #nct 127 fanfic #johnny nct #johnny suh #suh youngho #johnny nct smut #johnny suh smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut

[boilbluedenim]

Over the liminal mindscape

I love and hate how this show's ending is completely left up to interpretation, mainly because of Wirt and Greg's potential deaths and how that makes me feel about the show as a whole. It attaches a sort of bittersweet feeling to it which I'm not too sure about. more on that soon though.

Anyway, when paying even just an inkling of attention to this show, you can almost immediately connect the dots and come to the conclusion that none of the adventures (for the most part) actually happened. This conclusion is heavily drawn from the frames we see at the very beginning, of Wirt, Greg, and Jason Funderburker (the frog) drowning. (ep 1)

and from the frames where Wirt wakes up in the water after having said goodbye to Beatrice, saving his brother and the frog by carrying them both out of the water. (ep 10)

Taking into account that Wirt, Greg, and Funderburker all fell into the water moments before almost getting hit by a train, which we discover in episode 9; Into The Unknown, I think it's pretty safe to assume that this is, in fact, the case and that OTGW takes place in either a mental space or a physical limbo, occurring while they are all in the process of drowning.

Another thing I'd like to mention is that OTGW is heavily based off of Dante's Inferno, which, in the simplest of summaries, is a poem about a journey that begins in a forest, leads through hell, and eventually into heaven, hence the theorized death I mentioned earlier. It's actually pretty easy to spot where these references and homages lie, for example, the formula of the story is somewhat similar, and the characters take on similar roles. (for example, Virgil: Beatrice/Woodsman(?)or even Greg in some cases, Beatrice: Sara, Dante: Wirt.) (please read Inferno or a summary of it to fully understand this if you haven't already because it's actually really interesting).

Rewatching OTGW with this in mind led me to realize a lot of things that I originally passed off as unique writing choices with no actual meaning behind them. Then again that could be the case but what's the fun in assuming that?

Upon entering the unknown, we're launched into a universe with a seemingly ever-changing time period. Characters talk funny and fancy, dress and act as if they're from the 1600s-1700s, and none of our protagonists seem particularly fazed by this (except for Beatrice, occasionally) with Greg using a phrase such as "brother o'mine" and Wirt's dramatic poetic rambles. Everything feels very inspired while also being all over the place, almost as if it's been composed from memories, lying in the pits of somebody's mind...

Wirt is a Huge Nerd.

If I am to believe that this show takes place in one of our protagonists' minds, which I do in fact believe, then I would say that that protagonist has to be Wirt. Wirt has a tendency to go on poetic spiels, even dropping two of them in the very first episode. Accompanied by his teenage boy dread (being a nerd at 14 is tough) and his overextending knowledge about curious things, which he showcases in his exclaim at Beatrice's ability to talk and his comment about one of the rooms in Endicott's mansion (below), It becomes a glaring possibility that OTGW is primarily from Wirt's point of view, with the Unknown existing solely in his head.

I've actually seen this point argued before, with some people mentioning the black turtles on the poster in Wirt's room or just his entire room in general. However, if true, that doesn't really answer the question of whether the unknown exists as a physical space or a mental one, having no supernatural effects on the real world.

2. The Implications of the Bell

Okay, so, listen.

I hate to be the kind of person who goes "Well it's probably just a fun and silly bit that doesn't actually mean anything." but I'm gonna be that person anyway, or at least I'm not going to assume character death because I don't want to and free will is a thing blablablabla. I will however be serious for a second and try to provide a tangible reason for why I think this scene doesn't have any real-world implications.

For one, this scene immediately jumpcuts to a voiceover, followed by scenes that serve as conclusions for the stories of the characters we've met along the way, all of them being positive. I think this serves the purpose of letting us know the story did in fact have a good ending, with Wirt learning how to treat his brother with respect. I also think that ties into the theory above.

Not only does the unknown serve as a mental limbo but it also serves as a lesson for Wirt in particular. This journey is riddled with self-critique, characterized as Beatrice, all the while Wirt is drowning and realizing he's not only failed himself but his brother as well.

3. The Beast

Surprisingly I haven't mentioned the beast yet even though he's very important to the story. The beast represents a couple of things, one being death and two being the overarching, real-world problem. Those may sound like the same thing, and honestly, they are depending on what you think the problem is. To me, it's Wirt's relationship with, and treatment of Greg in the real world that bleeds into the universe of the unknown.

The exchange that Wirt has with the beast at the end of episode 10 fully encapsulates his character growth. The characters his mind has created have actually taught him something, that being; wallowing in sorrow and accepting your fate is just going to lead you further down this winding path, or in this case, to the bottom of this lake. You will never get home.

Unlike I've seen others suggest, this is not a story of a boy failing and dying while so wrapped up in his own fantasy, eventually residing in a false heaven. Instead, everything is put back where it needs to be.

From the forest, through the unknown, and finally, back home.

#ramblings #over the garden wall #otgw #I havent written since september help

[rhysintherain]

Sorry if this is a too random question but do you have any advice for how to choose a thesis topic when you feel like you don't have any real skill set or theoretical knowledge and none of the suggested topics really sound like anything you could reasonably write more than five pages about? And the mere thought of setting on a single topic to stick to for entire months is almost panic attack inducing

Okay, I'm going to treat this as a master's thesis, or maybe honours thesis, question. This sounds like a bigger thing than a class project, but correct me if I'm wrong, and I'll see what I can come up with for that.

First of all, you didn't get to the point of having to write a thesis without building up some skills and theoretical knowledge. You just aren't in the greatest position (inside your own head) to know what those are. I recommend asking someone who regularly interacts with your work (like a tutor or prof) to help you figure out what those are.

Second, do you have a thesis advisor? Are they assigned to you, or do you get a say in who? If so, focus more on picking an advisor you work well with before you settle into a topic. Ask the one you end up with about their study areas, and what gaps exist that you could build up with your work. You might not be particularly passionate about the topic they recommend, but knowing that your work has an important place in the literature could help you stay invested.

On a practical note, it never hurts to do some preliminary research into your potential topics. You want to make sure no one else has written the thing you want to write, but your life will be easier if there's a decent amount of source material in the field. You can't write a thesis with only 2 or 3 sources, but you also can't contribute to scientific knowledge by saying something that has already been said half a dozen times.

If you're working with some sort of primary source, there can be some wiggle room here. For example, if I wanted to write a meta-study type paper about bifacial blade cores in BC I wouldn't get very far, because only 2 people have written about that. However, if I wanted to write original research from my own hands-on analysis of those blade cores I could make that work, because the artefacts themselves are my primary source, and I know where to find a few in repositories.

If you have the time and access to go to geological formations, historical documents, interviews with Elders, '70s pop lyrics, etc, you can write about some pretty obscure things and make it work, because you're studying the things themselves. If you have limited time and resources, it might be better to stick closer to the well-trodden academic paths. You don't want to put yourself in a position where you need the primary sources but don't have the means to access them.

And as far as making a connection with recommended topics you're not that interested in, I recommend doing some preliminary digging here too. Is there a niche thing related to one of those topics you like better? Something related but a bit different? Really bad takes in the field you think need to be addressed? An epic academic debate you want to weigh in on? This part Is less about collecting useful data and more about finding where you want to be. This is the time to dig through the drama, follow the rabbit holes, and go off topic if you feel like.

And if none of that works? Talk to your advisor again. Tell them why this isn't working and what you're actually interested in, and maybe they can help you redirect your attention to a topic you'll connect with.

Your best resource for this sort of thing is your thesis advisor, which doesn't always work (sometimes an advisor is a bad fit), but if working with someone helpful who you respect is an option, that's the best way to set yourself up with something you can get invested in. If you don't have an advisor in this setting, see if you can reach out to another prof, colleague, or grad student who's willing to help. Doing things like this alone in your head is rarely the best option.

So some closing thoughts: lots of people have done this before and come out the other side. Most of them were also overwhelmed when they started, and you'll get to look back and go "well that wasn't so bad" eventually.

Your topic isn't on rails. You'll shape your goals and findings as you go along, and it will be a different story in the end than it looked like in the beginning. That's how it usually goes, and that's okay.

You don't need to know what you're talking about, just what you want to talk about.

Talk to people in your field. Ask questions. This is not a thing you need to do alone.

*just to be clear, I haven't actually written a master's thesis, although I've done training workshops on writing them, given advice to lots of people who were, and done a couple extended research projects. Lots of people who will probably see this are doing them, or have done them (you know who you are, I'm looking right at you) and hopefully will chime in with advice based on their experiences.

#academic writing #thesis writing #writing advice #academic advice #writing tutor #thanks for sending an ask #sorry it took so long to get done #keep asking questions because thats the backbone of academic education #its meant to work if you ask for help #hope this helps

[writeforfandoms]

For the Alphabet: J. E. N.

Hi sweetie! Sorry, yesterday ended up being busier than I originally anticipated, so I'm gonna answer this one now. It's only a day late...

J: What's your favorite fanfic trope? Have you written for it?

Yesterday I said that my favorite is soulmates, and I have not written that yet for CoD. But let's keep things interesting and talk about another favorite of mine. A/B/O or omegaverse. I love that. It's so much fun and there are so many ways to play with it. I haven't yet written for this one either for CoD but I might. No concrete plans yet but I mean. You never know.

E: What character do you identify with the most? Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

I mean, obviously my reader characters all have pieces of me at their core. Not all the same pieces, but pieces. None of them are me, or all of me, but you can see flashes in them. Like turning labradorite in the light to catch the flashes of color. If I had to choose one fic that shows a reader who is most like me... A Lonely Place, perhaps. Knitter and crocheter, sarcastic, a little awkward sometimes but trying, and pretty sure someone will never come along.

N: Any fic ideas brewing that you'd care to share?

I think all my ideas are out there at the moment. My creativity has been a little slow to return this time (thanks depression!), so I haven't been having as many ideas as I usually do. The only one that I haven't put down here is the one that's more fun to think about.

Stardew Valley/CoD crossover.

I could fit so many characters into that town. So. Many. I already have a few of them figured out - Soap as the blacksmith, Gaz as the town doctor, Laswell as the mayor. I think Ghost would be hysterical as the animal guy.

But at the moment this one remains just an idea. I really need to finish up at least one thing before I start anything else.

Thank you for asking and for your patience! 💖

#ask game #i love ask games #thank you friend!

[les-mis-in-space]

⭐ 

I'm just letting you ramble because I'm incredibly indecisive have fun!

Okay instead of one BIG ramble I think I'm gonna do a bunch of little ones

None of the prisoners looked at the guards observing them, keeping their heads low as they worked to repair the ship. Two symphonies played a counterpoint duet— the instruments of nature being the gongs of thunder, the rattling of the rain, the clapping of the waves, with only the whistling of the wind to give melody to the excess of percussion; the music of the inmates being comprised of the falsetto hum of electrosaws, the clanging and clinking of hammers, the twisting wrenches groaning and screeching like kloo horns on fluctuating settings. Immediately to the left of Com Narcom, a Klatooinian gave lyrics to the cacophony in growled Huttese:

Stuka doompa, stuka doompa Hagwa stuka ta hoohah Stuka doompa, stuka doompa Unko uba nee choo,

And in lieu of a final syllable he would spit, quite forcefully, to approximate a rhyme, which would make his green leathery jowls quiver. At the third repetition of this verse, Narcom’s shaggy, sopping head whipped in the inmate’s direction with a snarled “Can you shut up?”

The singing Klatooinian locked eyes with Narcom and growled deep in his throat, like an akk dog ready to snap. A sentry probe zoomed over, its photoreceptor flashing red as a grating electronic bark warned them to leave each other alone and focus on their work.

Narcom’s eyes dropped. “I mean, can you shut up, please.”

If I could have done this with Master of the House I would have, but I could not get the Huttese lyrics to fit the meter. I was already kinda stretching here, meter-wise. I've always wondered how obvious the reference is to those who don't bother consulting a Huttese dictionary for the translation.

I’m sure there have been early mornings where your alarm has gone off and then, after a long session in the sanistream, you’ve sat on your bed wearing only a towel or your undergarments, procrastinating putting your clothes on for no real reason while you check the HoloNet on your datapad or think about how you’re going to get your protagonist out of the nest of gundarks you dropped her into in the last chapter— that or a particularly difficult math problem, whatever people who aren’t writers think about.

Passages you write before you're diagnosed with ADHD lol. Turns out this thing I thought was relatable probably only happens to a certain demographic on a regular basis. Still, I'm sure we've all had at least one experience like this. Com's basically in shock right now; he's a bit slow on the uptake while his brain tries to process the fact that someone is being nice to him.

“This thief says you gave them to him,” the officer sneered. “As a gift.”

Korma blinked. “But I did.”

The prisoner started.

The officer’s eyebrows shot skyward. “What?”

Korma leaned to peer over the officer’s shoulder. “Why is he in binders?" he demanded, throwing up his hand. "You will release him at once!”

"We'll release him at once," said the officer, waving two fingers toward the officers behind him. The policemen deactivated the cuffs. The prisoner rubbed his wrists, staring at the old Cerean with bewilderment.

“Return the knapsack,” Korma ordered. “Those belong to him.”

"These belong to him," said the officer, setting down the knapsack and stepping back.

“I thank you for taking the time to return my property,” said the bishop. “But no crime has been committed here. You can go about your business.”

The lead officer nodded, setting the knapsack on the ground and turning to the other officers. "We can go about our business."

This is not originally how the scene was written. Originally, there was no hand-wavery or repeating of sentences. Some time after I'd finished Part I, I was rereading this chapter and realized I'd missed an opportunity. Always good to add even more of a Star Wars touch. It also foreshadows the (admittedly obvious) reveal a couple paragraphs later.

Halmath picked up the imagecaster, holding the hologram of Kobjin’s head in his hand. He stared at it, as if it were the unearthed skull of someone he had once known. The familiarity was not reflected in the man’s hollow, empty eyes.

“Ah,” Halmath whispered. “Poor Com.”

Yes, this is a Hamlet reference. Thank you for noticing.

“Coming up now.” Adeg reached up and disengaged the hyperdrive. The vortex of lightspeed gave way to view of a round gray ball directly ahead with a thin ring of asteroids surrounding it.

Arkassos looked like a gas giant from space. It wasn’t a gas giant, of course, because it wasn’t gigantic— and its surface was terrestrial, a fact Lieutenant Adeg only knew because he’d been there before.

The young pilot glanced over his shoulder. “You’re going to want to strap in now, Minister,” he advised. “It’s going to get rough.”

Com frowned as the shuttle breached the stormy atmosphere. The rocking of the cockpit prompted him to take the pilot’s advice. He sat behind Adeg, closed his eyes, and tried to muster a meditative state despite the deafening thunder.

Suddenly, something smacked against the shuttle, sending it tipping starboard. Electric sparks arced through the cabin. The copilot swore while Able yelped. Com clutched his armrests as the ship wobbled. “What was that?”

“Shark, probably,” Adeg replied as he righted the craft. “They like to ram incoming ships. Must have slammed into our dorsal wing.”

“A shark… in the sky?” Com furrowed his brow.

“Yes sir,” nodded the pilot. “Arkassoan sharks swim in the air. They’ve got big wings like—”

“Like that,” McKrow pointed.

Com leaned to peer through the transparisteel. There, circling off to the side, was a shoal of creatures with long, slowly-flapping fins, and three dorsal fins each on their backs. They crackled with electricity as if their bodies were supercharged by the storm. Their bodies were ash-grey, except for the black ridge that stuck out over each one’s brow.

Com didn’t like them.

Sometimes, Star Wars locations have a unique feel to them that makes them instantly recognizable. My success in coming up with my own original planets varies in this regard. Trolorn is your run-of-the-mill water world, but the prison gives it an adequately distinctive signature. Dygni is pastoral with small towns— planets like that are a dime a dozen. Ditto with Monderon, although I tried to make Monderon stand out by being described as particularly boring and also containing occasional forests— had to have those woods for the scene where Leela meets Antilles. Montal is another water world— in coming up with a distinctive feel for the capital city, I decided to go with "Minas Tirith in the middle of the ocean." Pasir is not as urban as other Star Wars planets we've seen, but not at all as much of a backwater as most Outer Rim worlds either.

Anyway, all this to say, I seem to come up with my best gimmicks when the location is only briefly relevant. I thought, "Okay, what sets Arkassos apart?" and my brain came up with "giant flying lightning sharks." I laughed with my beta reader about how stupid random that idea was and then it turned out they really liked the sharks, so I *had* to go through with it.

The description of the sharks is intentional. Ash-gray, jutting black ridges over the brow... If you have a good memory, you should realize why Com doesn't care much for them.

As the convict went from house to house, he saw a pair of police officers. Their uniforms were like the guards’ uniforms on Trolorn, except that the guards had worn black caps and ash gray tunics, and the police officers’ caps and tunics were a matching shade of teal blue, with brass rank plaques and cap discs instead of silver.

Also note that the city below is enclosed in a giant cage. On a stormy planet. Surrounded by patrolling entities that will zap you if they catch you outside the walls. Com doesn't miss this parallel:

The shield gate began to open. “It’s ‘cause of the sharks,” the pilot explained as they passed through to land.

Com knew the pilot meant, to keep the sharks out. But between their stern black ridges and fins that crackled like electrobatons, he felt as if rather the sharks were there to keep them inside the cage.

As if to confirm his thought, Adeg added, “You thought it was rough back there, wait until we’re trying to leave.”

Wow. So far I've spent the most time rambling about the lightning shark planet.

Mrs. Bewl continued her testimony. “I’ll never forget that man. Drab clothes, scruffier than a Wookiee, and he smelled absolutely terrible. And he had this hungry look in his eyes, it gave me the creeps.”

Things that make Mrs. Bewl assume a man is dangerous include [checks notes] needing food

A moment later, a dark-skinned young man in a black uniform appeared in the refresher, with a protocol droid right behind him. “I saw what you did,” said Adeg breathlessly. “I’ve never seen anyone do something as brave as you just now, Minister. I sent off the troopers. Let’s get to the ship before they come back.”

“Hold on,” said Kobjin. “You’re an Imperial. Why are you helping us?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” said Adeg firmly. “You need a pilot.”

This is an intentional reference to Poe's rescue in The Force Awakens. Adeg only appears in this chapter and the next, but I can tell you that after escaping from the Arkassos fiasco (say that out loud, it's fun) he joined up with the Rebellion as an A-Wing pilot, married one of his squadmates, and had a child after the war who was kidnapped by the First Order at a young age. He and his partner were some of the first Resistance members.

“We’ve got to deal with them or we’ll never get out of here alive!” Adeg insisted. “Alright, Minister! Start firing!”

Com looked at the gun controls as TIE lasers bounced off the viewport. “Where’s the stun setting on this thing?”

“Are you kidding me?!” Adeg exclaimed. “Just shoot them!”

...

Com swerved as soon as they penetrated the clouds, veering away from their pursuers in the opaque mist. The thunder was deafening now. The cabin lights flickered. Com weaved between thunderclouds as lightning beat the forward deflector shields. Adeg looked over at Com as he navigated through the maze. “Are your eyes closed right now?!”

“Trying to concentrate,” Com grunted.

“Wait, they’re what?” Kobjin shook the back of the pilot’s chair. “Keep your eyes open! We’re flying through an atmospheric maelstrom right now!”

“I know,” Com snapped. “Let me focus.”

“Can’t you pray and look where you’re going at the same time?” demanded Adeg.

I don't have much to say here except these are my favorite bits of comedy in the whole chapter. Never fly with a Force-wielding pacifist if you value your sanity. Also—

“Back?” Adeg sputtered. “Back to Arkassos?”

"Why does everyone want to go back to Arkassos?" XD

I think I'm going to ramble about Book II in a reblog!

#the process #lore

[ladyhindsight]

Hi! So I'm re-reading TMI these days and can't help but feel for you anytime I stumble upon something frustating or laugh when a limb is having a life of its own lol. I don't know much about editing or the quality of the writing in general because I'm not a native english speaker so reading in english kinda makes it better, if that makes sense (even tho I now notice things thanks to your blog, and let me tell you, I had the displeasure to read a small part of the translation in french and it is so much worse that I'm fine with not getting how shitty CC's writing truly is) but omg I want to facepalm so often… Particularly now that I'm almost done with CoFA and I can see so clearly the influence of TID in it. Like in one of the first three books, when Valentine killed the Silent Brothers to get the Soul Sword, everyone insist they were ALL dead (which was stupid) but now some Brothers were away at the time so no worry, Jem is well and alive! Or Luke and Magnus could always get into the NY institute, but Simon had to stay outside because he's a vampire but now there is a sanctuary they never thought about using before because it was "out of fashion" (sure Jane) and they suddenly remember it exists! Poor Simon, knowing they could have hang out with him there all along but wouldn't bother to just think about that big room standing in front of their eyes. I was also very frustrated with the fact that no one seems to care what Valentine was doing for the last seven years after giving Jace to the Lightwoods and before coming back in CoB (yes, we do kind of find out at some point that he was probably hiding in Hodge's cabin or farm or whatever but why no one ever WONDER at least to themselves where he was?). There is also, of course, all the BS with Malec in general plus the fact that it makes no sense anyway with The Red Scrolls of Magic, but this is too painful for me to even think about. Nothing makes sense, really, as if we all knew those books better than the person who wrote them, can you imagine? I could go on for hours but I won't, I just needed to rant for a second and I felt so sorry for you who go so much deeper into that hell hole for your wonderful blog that I love. So kudos, stay strong and I can't wait to read your next post! (and sorry if this makes no sense, as I said I'm french and we all know french people can't speak english).

Hi! Thank you for the love, it means a lot. 🥰😊 I am slowly working towards the next post.

When I go through Clare’s writing, more often than before I have to just stop and think whether some things in the text are worth pointing out, because at this point stuff just begins to repeat itself a lot. Like noted in the previous message, Clare’s writing has barely improved in the course of 15+ books. I’ve made a PDF file of City of Bones with bunch of footnotes that never really made it to the blog, but the content of those notes apply to the following installments as well because of that repetition of writing mistakes, weird or weak sentence structures, choice of words, story structure, plot etc. And sometimes my opinions are just made of weird noises and frustration that I can’t put into words. 😂

Clare adding these new elements to the Shadowhunter world really show how little thought went into it in the beginning of the series. I was originally so confused when I read CoFA for the first time ever because I truly thought Valentine had killed every Silent Brother there was previous to that, and why wouldn’t we think that? It is exactly how the writing presented the case. The first three books of The Mortal Instruments feel so disjointed from everything else that came afterwards, because the world started getting bigger after them but none of those new elements were present in them (obviously they couldn’t have been, but you know). Jem as a character did not exist before Tessa appeared at the end of City of Glass to herald a prequel series. Similarly how Jace probably wasn’t Herondale when City of Bones was written. His scar appeared first in CoA, and then it was relevant for Imogen to notice it. Not that it had been an essential part of his character before the plot demanded it.

Similarly this case with Simon and the Institute Sanctuaries. In the original TMI trilogy the vampires appeared through Projections. There wasn’t such facilities mentioned before that. Clare just added things as she went along. Similarly to this, the Shadow Markets and the Scholomance. Imagine how bigger the world had been if there was even a mention of these places in the first three books? Especially since everyone has been visiting the Shadow Markets, like, always if GotSM is anything to go by. But there is that absence because, again, none of these concept existed, and retroactively writing stories about how, for instance, Jace as a kid went to a Shadow Market does not bring that same magic to the original trilogy where such concept is unheard of.

In Born to Endless Night the Sanctuaries are rendered effectively useless when Magnus’ magic can give Lily an access to wander the halls of the Institute. Aside from other grievances with that story, Clary effectively broke the rules of her own world to make it easier for Lily to be present in the party instead of writing them having a party elsewhere where Lily as a vampire could safely attend, and without this rule-bending as a surplus.

Valentine’s whereabouts, like you said, well he just kept training Sebastian and that’s about it. Every character never really thought about it more or questioned why he waited seven more years to finally resurface. Most things were just taken by face value. The first three books especially were really half-cooked, if even that, when they were published.

#Anti CC #Anti Cassandra Clare #Series discussion #Reply

[ecumenicallymaroon]

10/8/22

I'm very, very depressed.

I'm seeing my therapist today, and I'll talk it all through. I'm not going to do anything to myself. The depression is situational. It will end or fade when the situation changes.

I mean, none of that stops the SH/SI gremlins on my shoulders from whispering that it will never get better and this is just all there is.

People - strangers even - have been asking me if I'm all right. I think I must have Resting Sad Face now.

Normally, I have brunch with friends once a month on a Friday. It used to be weekly. Well, originally, it was me and my friend Anne from church. We'd read the book of Ruth for Bible study group and felt like we wanted to cultivate a relationship like Ruth and Naomi - two women who were not lovers but were deeply committed to each other and each other's wellbeing and happiness. So we started meeting up weekly - gosh, three or four years ago? It was well before Covid, anyway. Maybe early 2019.

Anyway, so we started meeting and it was lovely, and eventually we had some new people join our Bible study group, and we invited Laura (who's quite a lot older - like parent age for us) to join us, and it was really, really nice. For awhile, there were several people joining us, including Izzy, who is Anne's close friend and business partner. And then Covid happened, Laura moved to be closer to her daughter, people's maternity leave ended, all that sort of thing, and then it was just me and Anne... and Izzy.

Slowly brunch has become the Anne and Izzy's Business Brunch with Special Appearance by EcumenicallyMaroon.

I've really tried to become friends with Izzy, too, but there's just this feeling of like, Izzy has a very full life with lots of friends and family and I'm 100% not needed or particularly wanted. Not needed as in I need someone like EcumenicallyMaroon to save me!!! but needed as in Ecu's perspective is very valuable to me and I think I need someone like her in my life, but even if I don't need her, I am interested to know what she thinks. You know?

Izzy is the kind of person who doesn't think about anyone who is not physically in front of her, demanding her attention, and I can't deal with that. It feels childish and rude and inconsiderate.

And the thing is, I really have genuinely tried. I've invited Anne and Izzy and their respective partners for games nights, movie nights, the whole shebang, and Anne mostly says "yes, we'd love to, I can do dates XYZ", and Izzy says "Let me look at John's shift schedule!" and then has literally never, ever gotten back to me. This has happened at least six times in the last six months. I did the nudges and everything. I felt like I was properly begging them to Do Friend Things.

I tried to blow it off (not very successfully), but I'm not stupid. I follow them both on social media and Izzy posts loads of social stuff she does with Anne and their other friends. She clearly can plan stuff, she just doesn't want to with me.

Then last month, she said she was going to host a little birthday celebration for her toddler on a Sunday afternoon, and I and my husband were going to be invited. Great, that's lovely. Except she didn't send me any details at all. I had to ask two times, my messages went unread, and then Anne offered to follow up with Izzy for me while they were at work and I said sure, if she felt like that would be better.

Ultimately, I got no details about this until the literal day of the party and I was sat in Stafford Park with my husband and I saw the message and we started heading back their way, and in the car, I burst into tears and said I didn't want to go, I couldn't deal with it anymore. My husband said, OK then, we won't go. Let's go somewhere else instead, and we ended up driving to the seaside (for a grand total of one hour).

I just couldn't do it. I couldn't face being the fucking dork who'd set aside the whole fucking day just in case the 'popular' girl texted details of a party I was invited to. I'm 35 fucking years old, I'm long past being the dork chasing after cheerleaders to be my friends.

So I spent last night crying silently in bed, wondering if our brunch has run its course, and it made my stomach hurt so badly I thought I was going to be sick or wake up with a migraine.

I have also been accompanied by the thought of, Well, but what if this is just depression talking and I'm about to throw away something good because I feel like shit and I want to self-destruct so badly?

This has, without exaggeration, been the worst two months of my life. I feel like I'm drowning. All I want to do is sit outside in the twilight, smoking and staring into space. But time keeps passing and I keep not buying cigarettes.

[zi-i-think]

Emotional Support Himbo

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Rating: SFW

Word count: 1200+

Warnings: none

Request: yes, @wist-elia

Prompt: Gen Z

23. “Will you be my emotional support himbo?”

AN: JSKINFINFS So almost a year later I have finally posted this. I'm sorry. I don't really have any excuse other than I've been busy and kinda forgot about them. I hope you like it nonetheless. It was basically halfway finished when I got back to it. I think this is the last request I had for the batch I got months ago so I might open the requests again in a bit.

*not my gif

Okay, let’s be completely honest here. Y/n was nervous as hell. When she found out that her mom got a job in the Ministry of Magic in London, she was happy for her, excited even. But transferring from Ivermorny to Hogwarts turned out to be the most nerve-wracking part of it.

It was her sixth year and the school was more curious about the TriWizard Tournament than the new girl. She was thankful for it, there weren’t as many people asking her questions. But it was certainly annoying when people completely forgot she was new and picked on her for not knowing the way around. They were in a castle where stairs changed every couple of minutes, she figured people would at least be a bit more understanding.

As the weeks went by, things got better, for sure, but y/n was still struggling to fit in. She had some friends that she met from her House and classes, but none of them were close and she still occasionally got lost. Originally, she relied on Quidditch to find her place in the big school, but with the tournament, they were canceled for the year. So without strong friends or a hobby, she was basically alone.

That was until one sunny afternoon.

Transfiguration had just ended, marking the end of the school day and the beginning of the weekend. But y/n had to stay behind for a bit discussing a not-so-great grade in her last paper. McGonagall was not lenient on grades, but the best she could do was give her tips and points for the next time.

And once the discussion ended Y/n was eager to leave the class and go back to her dorm where she could take a nap or read a book. But once the door shut behind her and she stood out in the cold hallway, the realization settled in. She still wasn’t sure how to get to the Hufflepuff basement. She looked both left and right, down the long, daunting hallways wishing she paid more attention when walking back to the dorms with her roommates.

She took a chance and turned left, walked down some stairs, then up some again, then down, and with the complete wonder of how she got there, Y/n found herself in the lively courtyard. It was warm out and the sun was inviting, making it perfect for students to hang out and have some downtime.

And while the environment seemed like a great time, all the unfamiliar faces were scary to the new girl. She just wanted to get to her dorm. Spotting a small group of students wearing the same black and yellow tie she wore, Y/n pushed aside her fear for the moment and walked over.

“Excuse me?” She asked with a cheerful smile, getting the attention of one girl with brown hair and glasses. “Could you tell me how to get to the Hufflepuff basement?” She kept it simple, that way there'd be less room to say something wrong.

The other girl smiled and her head tilted to the side a bit in amusement.

“You’re the new girl, aren’t you.” She asked. But not in a friendly or curious manner, but in a taunting, humored way.

“Well, yeah,” Y/n answered with a shrug.

“And you don’t know where the Hufflepuff basement is?” She started the chuckle, her friends following along. “Honey, it’s been weeks, figure it out.”

And with that, she turned her head and kept giggling. Her friends chuckled along lightly, but largely just ignored that y/n was standing right there.

Y/n stood there dumbfolded for a moment. But each passing moment that she was standing there, her embarrassment grew and she took a few steps backward to leave the courtyard. She kept her head low to hide any tears that were threatening to spill out of her eyes. Her chest felt heavy and her throat tight.

It felt like everyone in the courtyard was now staring. Like on her first day where she was put with all the first years to be sorted. Like a black sheep. But now it felt like they were judging her.

Still, y/n felt too embarrassed to look up and ground herself back into reality. To see that no one was actually paying attention to her. Well except for one particularly bored Gryffindor. Fred Weasley sat up against one of the columns with an apple in hand when he noticed the new Hufflepuff loosely composing herself.

He noted two things about her. One, she was pretty. Definitely his type. And two, she was nervous. He didn’t recognize her from his previous years. There was no way she was in her first year, but she was also in Hogwarts uniform, so she wasn’t from Beubaxton.

He bit into the apple just enough to hold it in his mouth and pushed off the column he was on. Y/n had turned from the courtyard into the corridor of the school figuring that it was better to walk anywhere than wandering the yard aimlessly, walking towards the Weasley. He bit into the apple and right before she passed and then started walking right beside her.

“Apple?” He offered the half-eaten fruit to her.

Y/n jumped a little. She didn’t even see him approach her. She looked at him and then the apple. Her brows furrowed in confusion and her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. It was obviously a trick to make her feel even worse about herself.

“Are you offering me an apple that has basically been eaten already?” She asked in annoyance.

Fred then just realized how insensitive the gesture was, so he tossed the apple into his other hand and chuckled at himself.

“I suppose I was. But, we can always go to the Great Hall for another one if you’d like.”

“Honestly, the only place I want to go to is the Hufflepuff common room.” She huffed, wishing this boy would just go away.

Fred’s face twisted in confusion then looked around the hall they were walking down. “You do realize you’re walking the wrong way.” He found himself laughing.

Y/n stopped on her tracks. That was it. She was embarrassed and alone, and on top of that, a Gryffindor was laughing at her. Tears were finally starting to drip down her cheek. “I knew that.” She lied through gritted teeth and turned around the other way.

Finally noticing that he might have done something wrong and that this girl had no clue where she was going, Fred stopped laughing and turned around as well to walk with her.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were upset.” He said. Y/n was now wiping her tears with the sleeves of her cloak. “The kitchens are in the same hall as the Hufflepuff common room. I know that much. How about, I walk you to the kitchens and you should find your house from there.”

Y/n looked up at him with slightly puffed eyes. “You’re actually being sincere?” She asked.

“Don’t get used to it, I’m not usually.” He chuckled. Y/n couldn’t help it this time. His laugh was infectious.

“Alright, I won’t.” She grinned and then stuck her hand out to shake. “Y/n L/n.”

“Fred Weasley.” He took the girl’s hand and kissed her knuckle rather than shaking it.

“You’re odd.” Y/n laughed at the strange gesture. “Will you be my emotional support himbo?”

Fred’s eyebrows furrowed and his lips were pressed tightly together as he thought. “Not completely sure what that means.” He admitted. “But yes.”

“Wonderful.” She smiled.

#fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #harry potter #hogwarts

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader (part 7)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 2.5k

warnings: um just implied smut and fluff and a reference to bdsm I guess?? but it's pretty chill overall

Liked by starkcosmetics and others

y/n.y/l/n okay first of all, it takes an act of god to get a picture of this guy smiling, but it’s always worth it.  he really changed everything for me and I can’t thank him enough for that.  so happy ❤️ 

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caroldanvers 😍😍😍

flowercrowny/n oh my god this is so sweet i’m gonna cry

1 HOUR AGO

He smiled as he stared down at the post you’d made, remembering how much effort you’d put into finding the perfect picture (in your opinion; he thought he looked kinda dopey in it) as well as writing and re-writing your caption.

The speed at which your post gained likes and comments was inconceivable to him; even more impressive was the speed at which gossip rags were picking up the story.  Sure enough, his phone’s alerts to new headlines about you were not only going off like crazy, but had started to include news about himself as well.  

Y/N Y/L/N Shocks With Romantic Instagram Post, Confirms Dating Rumors

You’ll Never Guess Which Hollywood Starlet Is Dating Her Driver

Who is James Barnes?  Everything We Know About Y/N Y/L/N’s New Beau

Skimming one of the articles, he was impressed at how much information they’d managed to get without actually getting anything from you or him.  Born in Brooklyn, disabled Army veteran, worked a list of odd jobs before becoming your driver and bodyguard.  ‘No social media presence, prefers to keep a low profile’ one of them said; you can say that again, Bucky chuckled to himself when he read it.

He found another from People and didn’t particularly appreciate that it spent half the time going through all your past exes and rumored partners (turned out ‘rumored’ is a fancy word for ‘a bunch of fans deluded themselves so hard that it somehow turned into news without any proof necessary’).  But he still smiled when he got to the part that was actually about you and him.

‘The relationship is pretty new but they’re so happy together,’  a source close to the couple reported.  

Close indeed; that statement came from your publicist, who he’d never even meet.  

‘He’s a very private guy and she’s got this huge following, so they’re sort of an odd couple in that way, but she knows her fans are respectful and will let them have their own life outside of the spotlight.’ 

Bucky wasn’t sure that the respectfulness of fans was such a given here, but he hoped you were right.  To be fair, they’d been very sweet on your original post insofar. 

However, when he scrolled to the bottom of the celebrity magazine articles and realized they had their own comments section, he discovered that they were a little less forgiving than the ones on your Instagram.  

Is this the best she thinks she can do?  So sad tbh :(

a military guy…. yikes, she could get any guy she wants and she goes for a murderer. 

He looks like a hobo that found a coupon for a free haircut lol

I don’t buy it, I know she’ll always love Pietro!

Pietro being your former co-star that so many of your fans were convinced was actually your soulmate.  From what he’d heard from you, those speculations had made things so uncomfortable between the two of you that it killed your friendship.  Those were nothing, though, compared to the comments about someone you actually had dated.

she’s obviously not over sam… they were so good together

He’d better watch out for her ex, he still likes tweets about her and they have so much chemistry

Wait, she’s not still with Sam Wilson??  I could’ve sworn they’d been dating for, like, five years.

You were scrolling through your phone with a smile as you walked past where he was sitting on the couch, and he just couldn’t help himself from asking even though he knew it wasn’t the best idea.  “Do I need to worry about this Sam thing?” he blurted out, trying to play it cool and not sound too anxious.  “People are really obsessed with you two…”

“Sam and I…” you sighed, staring off into space for a second.  He made himself anxious imagining what you were thinking about in that moment.  “I haven’t talked to him in… years?  I think it’s just because our relationship was so public that people are still talking about it.  And it had a lot of gossip material— we did a movie together, people thought it was sweet that we got together during production, it was great promotion for the picture… and from the outside, we made a lot of sense for each other.  But he has his own problems.  I loved him, but… he wasn’t ever going to be a one-girl kinda guy.”

“But you’re not just any one girl.  You’re… you know, you,” he emphasized.

“You’ve been reading too many headlines,” you shook your head as you sat down beside him.  “Please don’t turn into one of those guys who thinks of me as a celebrity first.  Before that—” you pointed to your own name where it was bolded on his screen in the trending topics page of Twitter— “was popping up on movie posters and in gossip magazines, it was just my name.  And I’m not perfect.  Not even close.”

Bucky sighed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him and holding you tightly.  “And before I knew you were famous, or rich, or incredibly talented, I was totally obsessed with you just for who you are.”

“You’re too fucking amazing,” you sighed as you held his face and gave him a gentle kiss— the kind of kiss that instantly melted his heart and banished his worries.  When you pulled back and looked up at him with a smile, it was like everything else just… faded away.  “Don’t read the comments, okay?  None of them matter.”

He smiled and brushed his thumb over your cheek, overwhelmed by not only the softness of your skin but of your spirit as well.  In all his life he’d never been handled so… gently, with so much care.  “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he mumbled, not even really realizing he’d said it aloud until you gave him a beaming smile.

“I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend,” you giggled pridefully.

“Seriously?  I can… very easily believe it,” he scoffed.

“I just mean… you’re so…” you searched for the words.  “You’re actually good to me, that’s the thing.  I’m not used to that.”

“You deserve the world,” he assured.  “I’m just gonna keep trying to give you as much of it as I can find.”

He watched his hand trail over your face, down your neck and to your chest where he played with the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's odd to know there are millions of people who are jealous of me,” he admitted quietly, remembering some aggressive comments from some very angry dudes who had apparently also watched your nude scene a few too many times.

"Do you like it?  Do you like how it feels to know you're making them angry every time you touch me?"

"Couldn't care less," he refuted.  "Nobody else matters when I'm touchin' you."

“Do you maybe wanna… touch me a little more about it?” you smirked, opening your legs slightly in invitation.

“Always.”

//

Bucky had, thankfully, not let the newfound fame get to his head.  In fact, he had demanded that the two of you hunker down in the house, since he feared that going out would lead to being recognized.  What he apparently hadn’t anticipated was that that might not be enough.

“Will you get that?” you requested when the gate buzzed, too wrapped up in the book you were reading to answer the intercom.

He hopped up and held down the button to communicate with the gate speaker.  “Who is it?” he asked.

“I’ve got a delivery from Anjappar Chettinad on 23rd?”

Bucky didn’t even reply before hitting the green button and granting access to the driveway.  BEEP BEEP BEEP! you heard the gate signal its opening, and the car pulling around up to the door.  Bucky didn’t open it until there was a knock, greeting the delivery guy with a smile and the necessary cash.

“I’ve got a lamb korma, hyderabadi mutton dum biryani and an order of— woah,” the man suddenly stopped, staring at Bucky’s face.  “Are you—?’

“Hungry?  Yes,” he frowned.

“You’re the guy dating— holy shit, congrats man,” he beamed, smacking Bucky on the shoulder pridefully before leaning in with a mischievous smirk.  “Say, is she a freak or what?”

“She is,” you piped up from the couch, making both men turn their heads; but one was chuckling while the other looked mortified.  “You better not have forgotten my paneer pakora or I’m gonna chain you up and whip you.”

“Uh, I— no, I got it right here,” he promised weakly, handing the bag over to Bucky and starting to dash away before Bucky grabbed his arm, making the smaller man whimper fearfully.

“You forgot the money,” Bucky reminded him gruffly, stuffing the bills into the driver’s front pocket.

Finally, he let go, and the delivery man instantly pulled away, rubbing his arm and looking a bit like a kicked puppy as he went back to his car and drove away.

“You didn’t need to scare him that bad,” Bucky chuckled.

“I could say the same to you!  Grabbing somebody with the metal arm like that will put the fear of God into them pretty fast.”

“I didn’t mean to grab him that hard,” he admitted, examining the prosthetic hand as he came back to the couch with the bag of food, handing it to you while he focused on watching his motorized fingers curl and uncurl.  “I think I need to get this thing recalibrated… it’s been bugging out lately.”

“I dunno, it was working just fine last night,” you smiled, remembering how delightfully cool those fingers felt inside you.

Bucky seemed to miss it entirely, though, as he stared off into space.  “I can’t believe I got… recognized.”

“You’re a star,” you winked.  “And not just with random delivery drivers.  I’ve had a lot of press requests, everybody wants to be the first one to get nice pictures of us together— we’ve had a dozen event invites as a couple.”

“Seriously?!” he scoffed, snapping back to reality slightly enough 

“Yeah, and look what came in same-day mail this morning!”  You leaned over to shuffle through the mail on the side table before finding and handing him a letter in a gold-embossed envelope, watching him read what you knew was inside.

The Hollywood Foreign Press Association extends an invitation to Y/N Y/L/N and James Barnes to the annual Grant Banquet in support of the Young Artists Fund.

“It seems like a good first event for us,” you explained.  “Relatively small and low stakes, it’s for a good cause…”

“Are you sure I’m ready to be, you know… seen?  By people?” 

You scoffed, hardly believing how insecure he could be sometimes.  “You look great, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Will I have to talk to anybody other than you?” he asked, grimacing as if that were a form of brutal torture.

“Probably,” you admitted.

His frown deepened.  “What if I say the wrong thing?”

“I’m not that worried about you,” you smirked.  “You’re a lot better at this stuff than you think you are.”

“I don’t have anything to wear…”

You smirked, a little too proud of yourself, when you remembered the email your publicist had forwarded to you just this morning.  “Hugo Boss will pay you $1500 to wear one of their suits on the carpet.”

“They’ll pay me to wear free clothes?” he repeated with wide eyes.

“Yeah, that’s one of the cooler things about fame,” you laughed.  “I make a grand every time I wear this watch outside!”

“I guess I should send them my measurements then…” he trailed off.  “Any chance I can get in on that watch deal?”

“No, but you can make $50 by getting papped at Jamba Juice.”

He paused for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he thought.  “Is the smoothie comped?”

“I don’t know.  Do you want me to ask?”

“...kinda…” he admitted with a shy smile.  

“Well, I will, and I’ll RSVP to this invite saying we’ll be there next week,” you decided as you started to open up the food, but Bucky stopped you by reaching for your hands.

“Are we really doing this?” he asked.

“If you want to,” you mitigated.

“Of course I do.  I guess I have to accept that you’re actually willing to be seen with me,” he chuckled.  “It’s just sort of hard to believe.”

You leaned in and kissed him; it was meant to be a casual, reassuring peck but he held you closer and you melted into him, moaning softly at his touch as you started to climb into his lap.

“The food’s gonna get cold,” he reminded you with a mumble against your lips.

Unfortunately, your literal hunger was a bit too strong to ignore, even with the growing intensity of a metaphorical hunger for Bucky.  “Alright,” you relented, getting off of him and returning your attention to the meal on the table.  “Just know that I really, really want to be seen together, in public, just in case anybody missed the news about us already.  I’m not embarrassed by you or afraid you’re going to do something dumb.  I…”

One of those words that can’t be unsaid started to bubble up in your throat and you coughed, banishing the thought.

“I really like you.  I think we have something special.”

He smiled gently, giving you one more kiss on the cheek.  “I think so, too.”

//

Since this was slightly less of a big deal than a premiere or press tour, you had managed to convince your styling team to let you dress yourself, which was why he was laying on the bed and talking to you through the bathroom door while you put on your gown.

“Do you want me to hire a new driver?” you prompted him, voice muffled slightly as he imagined your head covered in the fabric, trying to navigate through the dress.  “I don’t want you to feel… I don’t know, like a servant?”

“A servant?  You’re still paying me,” he reminded you.  “You are still paying me, right?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “but still, I would hate it if you felt like staff.  You’re my boyfriend!”

(His heart still fluttered every time you said it.)

“No new driver,” he decided.  “I can drive just fine, and considering how things went between us… let’s not open the door for anybody else,” he smirked, making you laugh in that way you did when he made a stupid joke but you still liked it somehow.

“Okay, sure, but what about being my bodyguard?  Is that too weird?” you continued.

“God no,” he scoffed, “if anything I’m gonna be better at my job than ever.  As your boyfriend, keeping you safe is my job, but since keeping you safe was already my job… it’s, like, doubled-up now.”

He lost his train of thought when you opened the door.

“How do I look?” you asked as you stepped in and gave him a spin in your new dress.  Your whole body was draped in red silk, with the exception of your back which was almost entirely exposed, as if it were begging him to run his fingers down your spine.

“Like everything I ever wanted,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

And it was so odd that you questioned his desire to drive you, because those moments where he could steer with one hand and rest the other on your thigh, when he could catch a glimpse of you looking out the window at the city rolling by, when he got to listen to you ramble about something to kill the time during a drive; those were his favorite moments, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

After a relatively brief trip, you arrived at the venue, and all of a sudden he was doing what he’d fantasized about more than he’d like to admit: escorting you down a red carpet.  It was almost overwhelming— yelling, chattering, reporters speaking into camera, flashes going off in every direction—

“Hey,” you whispered, bringing your hand up to his cheek and instantly taking all his attention.

“Hey,” he returned.

“Just follow my lead,” you instructed.

“That was the plan.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

[thehomothings]

Obligatory hxh Kite headcanon dump because the brainrot is strong part 1 of ??

About half a year of obsessing over him and I have culminated so many hyperspecific and useless hcs for Kaito that I can't fit them all into a 500 page fic about him so now y'all have to deal with it. And please bully me off this hellsite so I can go and finish it.

I'm just writing these off the top of my head so they're in no particular order but this post is gonna be mostly about his childhood so it's gonna be a bit sad! Buckle up!

(Also I'm listening to Bullets by Archive which just. goddammit it makes me think of him and it's breaking me. Definitely give it a listen and you'll see what I mean.)

He isn't sure of his exact date of birth, but guesses he's about 26/27

Although nobody would take him as being that young. Everyone assumes he's in his mid-thirties and he doesn't tend to correct people about that.

It's not that he looks old, per se, more so that he has a certain type of weariness that seems beyond his age. Killua still calls him old man though.

On his ID, his birthday is listed as the first of January, which was automatically assigned to him. He does not celebrate his birthday.

(fanon) Hisoka swears Kite's an Aquarius and has attempted to reverse engineer his birthday through his zodiac chart.

Again, has no idea where he was born, but used to think he was born somewhere in East Yorbia since he had spent most of his childhood there (I imagine it to be the hxh universe equivalent eastern Europe.)

Kite is not his birthname. He had none- that he was aware of, at least- and he chose it himself around the age of 7/8. (From actual Kites. More specifically, easter Kites that are flown in some regions in honor of Christ's resurrection. He liked how free they seemed, how if untethered, one could fly worlds away and never touch the ground.)

Before that, he was given different names by caretakers in orphanages, all of which he cast aside as not my name. They didn't belong.

It may have stemmed from a comment made very early in his life by a particularly cruel caretaker who said: Your mother didn't even bother to name you. Leaving you by the dumpster was the best choice she made and you should have stayed there. It may not have been true at all, but it stuck with him.

Was a very restless and semi-feral child. Used to run away from orphanages for no reason other than the fact that he could.

Never got adopted (Well, at least through legal channels)

His first newsboy cap was given to him by his adoptive parent and became a staple of his wardrobe. Years later, he still keeps that original blue hat.

In another life, he would have either been a veterinarian, a park ranger or an astronomer.

Has never had formal education, but is very well-read. Not to mention trained by (allegedly) one of the smartest men alive.

During their travels with Ging, he would get as many second-hand books that could fit in his bag, read them all and pawn them off at the next town, repeating the cycle.

Still, his knowledge has weird gaps. Can and will go on hours long tangents on how industrial waste disposals are contributing to irreparable damage to the ecosystem in painstaking detail, yet when Gon asks for his help with his physics homework he has smoke coming out of his ears.

"Hey Kaito, how do I calculate initial velocity here?" *windows error sound*

Isn't a polyglot like Ging, but has great linguistic knowledge. Can get the hang of languages in a few days and speak enough of it to find his way around nearly anywhere.

(So everyone in the hxh universe seems to speak one universal language, but we've seen that accents do exist) The best way to describe his accent would be 'generic'. He never picked up the East Yorbian accent as a kid, and as an adult his accent became even more indistinct. Although he'll translate phrases and idioms from other languages and drop them in daily conversations, confusing everyone.

His nose has broken at least once, and thus is crooked. (And very boopable.)

So are two fingers on his left hand. Let's say he doesn't have fond memories of getting caught pickpocketing.

He's quite vain about his hair and takes great pride in it.

Doesn't remember his hair being shorter than shoulder length.

After becoming Ging's student and gaining access to means to take care of his hair, he was surprised to find out his hair was slightly wavy. Although the longer it gets, it loses its texture and becomes straighter.

Ging never stopped pestering him about getting a haircut. He sees long hair as 'impractical', but if Kite's one thing, it's stubborn.

Has never let a hairstylist near his hair. Remember that Greed Island NPC in Ai Ai that complimented Bisky's hair? He punched that NPC because he HATES people touching his hair.

In fact, as much as he likes getting compliments on his hair, he dreads it because it's normally accompanied by strangers touching his hair without permission (ahaha I'm not projecting onto him at all ahaha /s)

In fact, if he lets someone do his hair it means he really likes them (Looking at you, Wing)

And that's about it for today! If you liked this mess of a post, good news! I have more! If you did not, lmao too bad because I'm going to post more. Do you agree with my hcs? disagree? Lets talk about it!

A baby Kaito to brighten your day because I always make myself sad by thinking about his childhood.

#Kite hxh #hxh Kite #Kaito hxh #hunter x hunter #kite hunter x hunter #hxh #ging freecss #gon freecss #killua zoldyck #wing hxh #hisoka hxh #wingkite #if you squint #headcanon dump #god I talk too much don't I #My brain is Mush I have spent too long thinking about this man #Kitkat #Icarus waffles #fic rambles

[witch-hazels-musings]

It's so cool to see everyone's takes on the Tsaritsa! Not a lot has been revealed about her: most of our knowledge comes from what other characters have said about her, which often give very different, at times conflicting depictions of her. 

However, if there's one thing we can take away from the game right now is that none of these characters are reliable narrators. From what I can gather of the storyline so far, Mihoyo seems to like playing with the idea of perspective and how history is as much a product of past deeds as it is a product of the present-day beliefs. Perspectives have an impact on the way a story is perceived. People are unreliable narrators: they have biases and different perspectives and so these characters' opinions on the Tsaritsa not only give us a glimpse of what she is like, but also of what they are like, which I think is super fun!

My take on her is a little bit different, in the sense that I personally interpret her as less of a "big bad" character and more of a misunderstood antagonist, if you will. I have a more sympathetic view of her. I feel like she does have good intentions, maybe her way of executing those intentions is just completely terrible, but I don't think she's necessarily a bad person, per se.

I'm not sure if you have read the descriptions of the character ascension materials (elemental gemstones)? They give you a lot of insight and direct information about each respective elemental archon's beliefs and principles. Definitely recommend checking it out if you haven't!

I think I've mentioned before that I play the game in Chinese! The text description of the gemstone in the English version is pretty spot on, from what I can tell. There are some like minor differences between the English text and the Chinese text. The biggest difference is that instead of "desire to burn", the original Chinese text refers to a "burning desire" i.e. a very strong desire. I'm not too sure why they decided to translate it that way? Maybe this is just me misinterpreting something or maybe it's just kinda strange but yeahhh, overall meaning is pretty much same.

This is how I personally would translate the text:

"I'm sorry to have you shoulder the grief/sorrow of the entire world along with me. But since you can withstand my bitter cold, then you must have a burning desire inside your heart. Then, please burn away the old world in my place."

Also another fun-fact about the Chinese text, the name of the Cryo gemstones, called "Shivada Jade" in English,  is written as 哀叙冰 in Chinese. The first character 哀 means grief or hurt or sorrow,  叙 means to narrate or to tell something, while 冰 means ice. So I suppose the whole thing could be translated to "ice that tells a story of grief" or something like that.

These descriptions, especially the way in which they were written, paint the picture of a gentle yet grief-ridden god. Tone is something that's pretty difficult to convey when translating, but the way this text is written in Chinese sounds very gentle and caring (to me, at least! Again, this may just be me projecting my own feelings onto the text). It's not domineering or commanding, it's very soft and almost sad.

My own HC is that the Tsaritsa was traumatised by the decision to destroy Khaenri'ah. I feel like she's the one who's most likely to be sympathetic of the cause of Khaenri'ah and the abyss? She could also be worried about the same thing happening to Snezhnaya? After all, they are the most technologically advanced nation, and if the Celestia gods see this as another example of "arrogance of mankind" then they're basically going to be Khaenri'ah 2.0

That could be why she's planning to stage her "rebellion against the divine" and shepherd in a new age wherein gods living in an island far away from the land do not have the final say on what's good for the people.

Do I think she has the same goal as the abyss?? Not particularly, no. I've always interpreted the abyss as being more "This happened to me, it was unfair, and now you all must suffer the way you made me suffer." while the Tsaritsa seems to be more on the lines of "This system is sucks, I'm making a better one because screw you".

But that's just my take on it!! I could be wrong, I could be right, I guess only time will tell!!

- 🔎

me reading this ^ (wowo! The detail and deep dive are just intense!)

#hazelmail #genshin theories

[4ragon]

I'm not the original anonymous but I would extremely want to see that essay about Apollo's trust issues.

Also since I just finished Spirit of Justice, do you think Lamiroir ever told Trucy/Apollo about her and if so what would be their reactions?

Let’s see if I can write this up without crying again like I did on twitter.

So a while ago a friend of mine asked me why I liked Apollo, and I really couldn’t put my finger on it. I knew he was my favorite, but unlike Simon Blackquill, I hadn’t done that deep dive into figuring out why. I’d always just sort of loved him, and was never able to pinpoint the part that made me care about him so much. It drove me crazy, too, I love rambling about characters that I love, and I love writing from Apollo’s perspective more than anything. So why did I love him? Why did I care about him?

Well. I figured it out. I figured out my answer.

I think there are two things that characterize Apollo more than anything. One: He has trust issues. He genuinely believes that the people around him don’t give a shit about him. Especially after being betrayed multiple times in that first trial, he truly and deeply believes that the people around him are only trying to hurt him and is too scared to really believe that they care about him.

And two: He cares so much about the people around him that he constantly helps them anyway.

So like. And I won’t tag her because I don’t think she’d appreciate it, but I was watching the laquilasse AA4 stream last night, and the entire opening of Turnabout Corner is so striking to me, especially right after the end of Turnabout Trump. At the end of Turnabout Trump, Apollo’s trust and belief in Phoenix is finally and thoroughly shattered, and Apollo lashes out, punching Phoenix in the face. And for good reason! That was a huge breach of trust! Apollo literally did the exact thing that got Phoenix disbarred, namely present evidence that wasn’t real. Sure, they never exactly claimed it was the real deal, but Apollo didn’t even know it was faked, he just trusted Phoenix and this new piece of evidence and it almost fucked him over. It did sort of fuck him over, he did lose his job and his Mentor.

And then, Phoenix calls him and says that they’re in trouble, and Apollo doesn’t even question it, of course he shows up to help.

Like. You can feel how much he mistrusts Trucy on their first meeting, in everything he does and says. Especially when Trucy and Phoenix are in the same room, he’s actively thinking about how he doesn’t ‘buy their act’ when Phoenix is calling Trucy daughter-ly nicknames. And then, in a way, he’s kind of right? They guilt him into essentially being their errand boy, and I feel like they’re constantly and loudly using him throughout so much of the game.

And Apollo was there anyway. Apollo doesn’t even trust them and he’s still there the first instant Phoenix says he needs his help.

Like you can loudly do and say whatever you want and crush his dreams and betray his trust, and despite everything, there’s always that part of Apollo that desperately needs to help anyone who asks him. He can’t even bring himself to trust them, and he’s still crawling back the moment someone needs him, ready to let them disappoint him over again.

Like this struck me about Apollo from the moment I played AA4, but he’s so lonely? And desperate for connection? He cares so much about a world that has always and consistently never cared about him, and he just keeps caring and keeps caring even as that starry-eyed naivete is ripped away. And I feel like he just wants someone to care about him back, but never really able to believe that they do, because they never really seem to, because every time he allows himself to trust it’s just thrown back in his face so horribly.

Here’s an interesting thing I noticed: in Turnabout Trump, there’s a really interesting line. Phoenix has accused Kristoph of being the murderer, the extra person in the room. Kristoph takes the stand and claims to have witnessed the moment Phoenix committed the murder. And this exchange happens:

Apollo: There must have been someone else there at the moment of the crime!

Kristoph: Justice... I just said I saw no one. Not a soul.

Apollo: B-But, that goes against what Mr. Wright said!

Kristoph: Ah yes, this mysterious "fourth person"... ...who would conveniently be the "real killer", I suppose.

And this is well past the point where Phoenix has accused Kristoph of being that person. There’s no possibility at this point that they’re both innocent, it’s either one or the other. And Apollo is still so desperately trying to find a way for them both to be innocent, basically saying, “Just give me a fourth person and I’ll believe you.” And then Kristoph turned out to be a monster, and then Phoenix turned out to have betrayed Apollo from the start, and as far as Apollo is ever aware, none of the care from either of these men was ever real. He trusted, and he suffered the consequences.

But again. He’s still there. Someone pointed out a while ago, but Apollo stays. Apollo shows up to the Wright Talent Agency under false pretenses, and he complains and hems and haws, and he still stays. Why?

Phoenix and Trucy loudly manipulate him into working their case. They’re perfectly happy to flaunt that they’re basically tricking him. And he stays. Why?

Because Apollo can’t trust them, but he wants to so fucking bad. He doesn’t even seem to like Phoenix that much, but he wants that connection so fucking bad. He cares about them so much and he doesn’t believe for a second that they extend that feeling back at him, and he’s compelled to stay anyway.

He knows Trucy is practically using him, and he’s a sobbing mess when he thinks she was kidnapped for a few minutes. He’s cynical and mean and it’s all just to cover up the fact that he loves all these people around him with all his heart and they never once pay it back. And he comes back anyway. He’s like a fucking loyal dog that is never given enough affection and so he’s constantly trying harder and harder to earn that love while never believing he’ll ever really get it.

(Shit nope crying again)

It’s just so sad. And this is all without adding anything from the 3D games. The 3D games do build on this theme in one way or another, but from the get go, this is who Apollo is. A caring young man who is constantly punished for caring and yet can’t stop caring anyway.

We see it again in the 3D games. And I think part of why I don’t enjoy DD as much as SoJ is that DD doesn’t capture this mistrust the same way. It’s so surface level, that sense of betrayal and mistrust and anger he gets consumed by in that final case. And the worst part is it doesn’t have to be! There’s already that foundation! Apollo has been hurt already a million times. The only person he’s ever been able to trust, the only lifeline that’s kept him above water since he was a child, was Clay Terran, and now that was taken from him because he DARED to trust someone new. That’s so fucking compelling! But we never get that! We never get to see how Apollo is feeling. We get that he’s convinced Athena did the murder, but never really get into the Why, into the What This Means for Apollo.

It’s a bit better in SoJ. We see how far he’s come in terms of trusting people when he trusts in Trucy wholly and immediately in case two. And then, conversely, we see his mistrust and hurt when they introduce Dhurke into the mix. Apollo refuses point blank to believe that Dhurke had come to visit him, that Dhurke cared about him. Apollo demands to know why Dhurke was there, what Dhurke wanted, how Dhurke was going to use him. He’s been able to slowly start building that trust with people like Trucy, but he still cannot let himself trust again when Dhurke had already betrayed that trust.

I said it before, but as much as I hate the slapdash ways in which Capcom keeps throwing backstory at this boy, I love what the backstories are, because they build on this angry, cynical, lonely young man I care about so much. He’s been hurt and abandoned and used and betrayed since he was young, and being good never truly paid off for so long, but he kept doing it, he kept being good, he kept caring about people because he couldn’t help it, and kept hoping that maybe they could care back. And eventually I think it does start paying off for him. People do start caring about him. And I feel like it takes until around SoJ for him to start really believing that the people around him might care about him too.

Also congrats on finishing SoJ! Since there’s a very good chance that they might be announcing AA7 soon, I...hope? fear? expect? that they’ll touch on this then. However, I also worry that they’re going to botch it up so hard.

I know what I want to happen. I want Trucy to be angry. I want her to be angry at Lamiroir and Phoenix. She is constantly putting on a mask to try to make the people she loves happy, and I feel like this is a reasonable breaking point. After all, this is kind of the one thing that Phoenix hasn’t been honest with her about. She had a brother right there, and knew the whole time?! She had a mother there the whole time?! And no one bothered to tell her?! I think she’d be heartbroken, and I think she deserves to be angry. She’s been through so much, and they never give her time to really grieve or be upset.

I think Apollo would be ecstatic and angry at the same time. All he’s ever wanted was family, and now he does! He already loved Trucy, and thought Lamiroir was amazing, so I think he would be so happy to have that family back in his life. On the flip side, I do think he’d be angry at Phoenix, particularly for keeping it to himself before Lamiroir came into the picture, but I think if they talked it out, Apollo would come around to it and be able to forgive Phoenix.

#ace attorney #apollo justice #it's time to cry about apollo again god help me #spoilers #ace attorney spoilers #aa4-6spoilers #i love this boy so much I don't know if this does it justice #meta

[equalseleventhirds]

i said i wouldn't write it but i did

vaguely a sequel to this, but far in the future and focused on jon (annabelle features briefly tho. she's fine. annabelle will always be fine in my fics.) with ofc the presupposition that they've failed in one world but kept trying, bcos i think that would be fun*!

*(by which i mean heartbreaking, i'm so sorry)

There are rules, to the traveling, or at least there seem to be. There are certainly questions to be asked and points to be made, about how many instances count as a definitive rule rather than simply a pattern. But Jon likes to think of them as rules. He's always preferred concrete answers, even if it turns out they're less the truth and more just a convenient way of conceptualizing things.

So he has rules.

First: the Fears always come through on the same day. October 18, 2018. Or, given the impact history has on calendars, the equivalent of it; he'd once spent months trying to correlate the forty-third moon of cycle 1852 with his calendar just to prove his point, but the math had all worked out.

(Which does indicate, at least to Jon, that yes, the Fears probably did originate in his home world, Georgie. He'll take his petty wins where he can get them. For as long as he can remember the discussion, and the people, he's proving wrong.)

Second, it is still his tapes that the Fears follow. For every apocalypse there has been a new catalyst, but none of these new rituals supersede his. Maybe it's a testament to the strength of the Web's original plan, or maybe it's just something about Jon himself. He knows what he thinks, but... well, there isn't enough proof just yet.

Third, in spite of endless attempts to trap them and stop them, Jon is always able to travel with the Fears. Perhaps they simply can't stop him, as the original antichrist he apparently is; dozens of apocalypses in dozens of different universes, and Jon can always feel his rightful place as ruler of that terrible fearscape calling to him. He hasn't taken it yet, but it's there, and the Eye cannot abandon its true pupil without his permission.

Or perhaps they simply don't care. Every attempt so far has led to the exact same result, after all: another world left behind, another death by starvation averted, another new feast for the Fears to sink their teeth into.

Fourth, he always passes out upon entering a new world.

It's kind of annoying.

---

It is slightly unusual for him to wake up warm, comfortable, and covered in a blanket, but Jon's not about to complain. It's nice. He doesn't get a lot of comfort, and he likes sleeping in a bed, especially since he's always eldritch-nightmare-free in a new world. For a limited time only, of course.

He's fairly certain he's inside; aside from the softness underneath and around him, the air is still and temperate, the light through his eyelids is artificial, and all he can hear is the faint whirring of appliances and the whispers of two muted voices.

"—complete stranger, definitely dangerous, looks like he's from hell—"

"Okay, fine, but I wasn't going to leave him, and anyway haven't you noticed he's a bit—"

"A bit what? Scarred? Bloodstained? Glowing eyes, because I don't think I need to remind you, Martin, his eyes were absolutely glowing when you found him—"

Martin. Now there's a name. Not an uncommon one, but... he thinks he knows that voice.

Or. Well. He might know both of those voices, actually, which is even more interesting than waking up in a bed.

Jon opens his eyes.

He's met himself before, is the thing. Not in every world, and not always particularly recognizable, but he's met himself. He's met versions of Martin, too, and eventually stopped going completely useless with heartbreak every time. The merest handful of times, he's found both of them in the same world, sometimes something almost like friends, but usually not.

The fact that they have their arms around each other, casual, comfortable, close, is both entirely unexpected and perfectly, wonderfully, terribly familiar. Jon briefly considers crying about it, but there are more important things to be doing. For example.

"The glowing eyes aren't actually that sinister. I mean, they are, but not for the reasons you're probably thinking."

Jon—the other Jon—jumps at the sound of his voice, then leans forward. Curiosity, of course; that hardly ever seems to change. "You—the glowing—who are you?"

"Jon," this new version of Martin scolds, and for just a moment he's back home, with his Martin, with that exasperated tone—but no, this isn't his Martin, and he's also leaning forward now, his voice turning gentle. Concerned. Coaxing, like he's a spooked animal, and Jon doesn't think his Martin has ever talked to him that way. "How are you feeling? We found you unconscious in the street."

He can feel Martin's curiosity too, pushing forward under his concern, just as questioning as Jon but too polite to outright say it yet. He has to cut this off, or he really will cry.

"Mm... no," he says. "Well, yes. But also." Good lord, he's confusing them. Par for the course, but he should probably try to be somewhat comprehensible.

He holds up a hand, extending one finger. "I am... fine. More or less. Trust me, I'm used to this, and this isn't even the worst way it's happened." Another finger joins the first. "My name, as I believe Martin has guessed but then dismissed, is Jonathan Sims. I am not you from the future, nor am I lying, nor am I crazy, because—" a third finger "—interdimensional travel is not only possible, it has happened, is happening, because of and along with terrible monstrosities I am determined to stop, and I have explained this too many times to too many people to have much patience for anyone being shocked and disbelieving, much less a version of myself doing so, so you can either get over it and move on or I can go elsewhere and do something useful."

"Excuse—"

"And," he continues, pushing himself up so he can sit and lean forward even more intensely than his counterpart, "I would actually rather not do that just yet, because I have an extremely pressing question for the two of you."

"Um," Martin says, and "What," says the other Jon.

"How," Jon asks, deepening his voice to exude solemn, ominous, and eldritchly important, "did you two start dating?"

---

It was so... normal. Apparently. Two people, mutual friends, a chance encounter. A prickly exterior ("He hated me," both of them had claimed), but without the insecurity of being Head Archivist and the fear of dread powers beyond his comprehension, their friends had helped him open up and—eventually—apologise. A budding friendship, and then a romance, and then...

It isn't a version of them Jon has seen anywhere else, in any of the worlds he's traveled to. Normal as it is, it's a highly improbably scenario, and certainly not the same as his relationship with his Martin had been. But it was, in an infinite number of worlds, still a possibility.

Jon isn't quite sure how he feels about that, knowing that some version of them could have fallen in love without the trauma, but that they hadn't managed it.

His hands aren't shaking, as he lights his cigarette. At least there's that.

"I quit, you know," his counterpart says from behind him. "Years ago. I'd forgotten about those until you asked."

"Well then, thank you for indulging me." He gestures, meaning the cigarette, meaning the bed, meaning his claims about reality, meaning his intrusive, gossipy questioning. Meaning everything. He's not sure it gets across.

The other Jon laughs, quietly, and moves to stand next to him. "I am my worst enabler."

"Oh, that's hardly true."

"Mm." They're silent together for a while, but Jon is restless (both of him), and eventually this reality's version opens his mouth to ask. "Do you—do you know why I—I don't want to say believed you, I'm still not sure I do, b-but, didn't throw you out immediately?"

"My myriad charms?" They both laugh at that.

"Jonathan Sims," he says, as if that explains anything.

Jon takes a drag of his cigarette, considering. He could probably Know, but... indulging himself. "What about me?"

"No, not you, or. You know. You. But your name. Jonathan Sims. I decided you weren't, weren't a deliberate lie to trick me, or a future version of myself, or a mind-reading monster—"

"Well—"

"—when you said your name, because none of those things would have said that." He smiles then and holds up a hand, and—oh—his ring glints. "I've been Jonathan Blackwood for a while now."

They'd told him married eventually, but he hadn't even thought about his name. He's certainly thinking about it now. "Jonathan Blackwood," he says, soft, to himself. And to himself. "That... that sounds good."

"It does, doesn't it."

Whatever they might have said next is lost as an incredibly loud engine roars nearby and a sleek black motorcycle pulls up in front of them. Jon sighs and takes one last drag of his cigarette as the rider removes her helmet.

"Been off finding yourself, then, Jon?" Annabelle asks.

"Oh, extremely funny, yes. Did you steal that?"

"It was a gift."

"Of course it was."

The other Jon is staring at them both, his eyes repeatedly drifting back to the web-covered hole in Annabelle's head. "Who—what is—is that a—"

"She's a spider monster," Jon supplies helpfully. "She came with me, although apparently she did not pass out in the street this time."

"Two streets over, I think. Pity, I would've loved a nice nap in a proper bed, but I did get this motorcycle out of it. Come on, Jon, you can mope on the way."

"I have not been moping—"

"Haven't you? You're not the one who deals with how maudlin you get every time you meet yourself—"

"Yes, fine, thank you, we can go." He stubs out the cigarette and pauses, looking at himself. "Uh. Tell Martin—well, goodbye, I guess. I'd say I hope we meet again, but if you're lucky we won't need to?"

"...sure."

"And I'm—I hope you—that is, I'll do my best—well." He sighs. "Things are about to get... dicey, for the world in general. But just, look out for each other, and we'll try to handle the rest."

"Jon, we should be going."

"Yes, all right, all right." He gives himself one last, probably not very reassuring smile, and climbs on behind Annabelle.

They do have work to do, after all.

#fanfiction #algie writes things #many thoughts head full........... #i am so many theorizing. u kno how it is. #uhhhh so the TINIEST spoilers for the most recent episode? idk #tma spoilers #once again just TINY ones not actually plot ones #at least not that we didn't already get from annabelle's big explanation episode #jm #but also it's complicated #u kno #jon has bittersweet conversations & thoughts and annabelle gets a motorcycle #it's what each of them needs i think

[op-sheepy]

ok so I'm particularly interested in

Bellamy Law

Law and Bible stuff

Law is a substitute kindergarten teacher

shichibukai applications

reverse hanahaki disease (?? do u spit out flowers when your nemesis walks by?)

if you feel like elaborating on any of these!

This is gonna get long and I actually contemplated posting them separately but would that have been more work? Yeah, that felt like more work so for anyone interested, check under the cut. :D

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Bellamy Law

Hm… This would be an attempt to explore the parallels and contrasts between Bellamy and Law. I've always found it fascinating that the former was a foil to the latter.

They both come from well-off  towns in the North Blue.

Bellamy left because of boredom. Law had no choice because Flevance.

Both ended up seeking Doflamingo  because of  his notoriety as a pirate. Both admired him initially

Doffy favored one over the other though. Bellamy always sought his approval but was never really part of the inner circle Doflamingo cared about.

Law got the dubious privilege of being part of the family despite being absent for so long. Even offered one of the highest seats by Doffy's side for seemingly nothing.

Law had no trouble turning his back on Doffy once he realized the man's nature. Bellamy tried to stick to his principles until the end despite admitting that he new he was wrong.

Bellamy can (and did) quit piracy after his ordeal with Doflamingo. Having the option to live peacefully, perhaps a return to his previous life (the one he considered boring). Law can't do that quite as easily what with his Devil fruit and his reputation.

I thought it would be interesting trying to explore what Bellamy was thinking. Did he hear the Donquixote Pirates talk about their missing 'family'? Did he get to see Doffy be amused at Law's rise as a Supernova while he kept being reminded of his own status? Did Law save Bellamy partially because he also saw what he could have been had Corazon not saved him?

On principle, Bellamy should have hated Trafalgar Law. Does. Bastard even saved him without him wanting it. But there was something about the shadows haunting those eyes and Bellamy started to wonder.

He had heard the family talk about Law before. The child personally taught by Doflamingo, chosen to be his right hand. Never was he compared to the man because Law was just obviously better. Smarter. Stronger. Bellamy was ever just an uncouth thug.

He was allowed to 'borrow' Doflamingo's symbol while Law had an empty seat waiting for his return–a seat Bellamy had wanted enough to risk everything for.

Maybe he had resented, Trafalgar Law for carelessly rejecting the things he had that Bellamy had always desired. In the end too, Trafalgar Law did prove to be better. He'd done as a child what Bellamy had trouble doing even as he was now.

But having been given the chance to observe the other man as they all recovered, he wondered, perhaps for the first time, whether despite Law being better than Bellamy, Bellamy had had it better–barring the poor life choices.

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Law and Bible stuff

This is just me wanting to know how many biblical parallels and themes I can draw from Law, the Donquixote brothers, the characters associated with them, and his backstory. Honestly not sure whether this would become a fic and in what style or I'm gonna give up and just make it a post.

Not gonna elaborate on them much but here are the ideas in more bullet points (yay):

Law gets familiar with all four horsemen of the apocalypse: conquest, war, famine, and death. He even survives them.

Law is like the son in the parable of the prodigal son to the Donquixote pirates. Except the themes are inverted.

Doflamingo and Rocinante -> Cain and Abel

Ope Ope no Mi -> Granting eternal life by sacrificing one's own life

Gods descending or living among humans. Also, Homing and his family being prosecuted for other people's sins.

That scene where they were hanged by their arms outstretched looks like a crucifixion. Also, Rocinante was on the right while Doflamingo was on the left. Similar to how the penitent thief was on the right and the unrepentant one to the left.

Flevance being considered a paradise with walls/fences/gates and somewhere Law cannot return to.

In the panel where the Donquixote pirates are seated at the table, there were thirteen of them with Doffy at the center. Same as The Last Supper

There are a lot more of these (David and Goliath, Solomon, Jonah, Job, etc.) but I kinda lost the notes and some are more visual so I can't really explain it too well. This would is a drabble series to emphasize or highlight the parallels so no proper snippet for this one.

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Law is a substitute kindergarten teacher

Originally an idea to get around most of the Heart Pirates being nameless but evolved to include other characters as kids. Chopper is a kindergarten teacher and he convinces Law to take over his class for a week because somehow Law has the qualifications to and free time. Naturally, he wasn't able to say no.

Unfortunately, despite not being terrible at handling children, Chopper's class is filled with menaces. Also, despite not being terrible, Law can still be awkward so...

"Mr. Trofao–fargar—"

"Trafalgar."

The kid—which one was this one again? Shit, he should really get them name plates or something—scrunched up his face and tried harder, "Tar-pal—"

"Law. Just call me Law."

"Mr. Low"—eh, close enough—"can I go to the bathroom?" Wide imploring eyes stared up at him.

"Sure, go ahead." Law gestured towards the exit of the classroom with his head.

The kid just stared expectantly at him and he tried to suppress the need to narrow his eyes.

"Is there… anything else?"

"Mr. Chopper always comes with me to hold my hand."

Really?

"Mr. Chopper isn't here. You should practice doing it on your own now." He said after a deep inhale.

"But the monsters might get me…"

"No, they won't."

"You don't know that."

"I do." Before the kid could open his mouth again to argue, he added, "Besides, children taste terrible so you're safe."

The kid looked stricken and took a step back from him. Uh oh. Glistening eyes, wobbling lower lip… "Alright! I'll go with you." The kid did not look reassured. In fact he looked like going alone with Law was the last thing he wanted to do. Guess, he kinda implied that he ate children didn't he? Oops.

Well, the kid needs to go and he's not going to be cleaning up after him if he wets himself.

Law glanced at the rest of the children. It was Arts and Craft time and they seemed preoccupied enough. Still, Law doubted Chopper ever left these kids alone–already he could see some of them glancing up at him, waiting for him to leave no doubt to cause trouble. That Monkey kid in particular looked extremely suspicious.

He stood up from his crouch and clapped twice to get everyone's attention.

"Alright. Fall in line. Single file."

There was some grumbling and questioning directed at him. "What's going on?"

Law shrugged. "You're all going to the bathroom."

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Shichibukai Application Forms

Crackfic where the World Government and relevant parties review various Shichbukai Applications. Most submitted by the pirates applying themselves, some produced by their own staff. They discuss and debate. As well as judge pirate resumes.

She scanned the document. Terrible format, really. If you fail to impress within the first page, you've failed entirely. There just wasn't anyone promising enough in this batch of applications or any of the other ones before. The last one had been that clown. "Apprentice to the Pirate King," was a pretty hefty credential.

"Oh, how about this one? Three years experience pillaging, and they even listed all the towns they looted." One of the newly transferred administrative staff said.

"None of these are worth considering at all. You know, when Mihawk was asked to submit his application, he hadn't bothered with all of this. He just sent us a card with his name on it and the title "World's Strongest Swordsman," underneath."

The staff perked up. "Oh, there was an application like that." There was scramble and some shuffling before a plain white card was produced. "Here."

"'From Trafalgar Law'. What does this even mean?"

"Well, it did come with a big box..."

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Reverse Hanahaki Disease

(?? do u spit out flowers when your nemesis walks by?)

Haha. At first it was going to be that way (because it is hilarious) but the inflicted would probably choke to death too soon. Or if both enemies had it, they'd end up just coughing flowers at each other until they stopped being enemies.

The version I ended up going with was that this variant of Hanahaki, instead of afflicting those with unrequited love, affected those in denial instead. The reverse part comes from the original idea that this would usually happen if you somehow fell in love with your nemesis (someone you originally hated). So it's not the thought that the other person can't love you, it's that you can't accept that you love that other person. You get cured by confessing to the person sincerely.

This is actually another KidLaw (surprise!). And the flower coughed up directly represents the person they're in love with (I went with Oda's flower representation for them because I found it funny for plot)

So the idea is that, you get sick but you don't automatically know (maybe) who it is because that's part of being in denial. Kid and Law have many enemies after all. In this story they both get it though not exactly at the same time and not known to the other.

He survived Amber Lead Syndrome only to be killed off by a stupid flower disease that apparently knows more about his own feelings than he does.

He glared at the petals. Tulips. Red.

An image of a cocky grin and a shock of red hair flashed through his mind and—nope. That's not right.

He coughed harder, tears stinging his eyes with the effort. More flowers. Now he has enough for a bouquet.

Alright, he was a doctor. He could do this. Differential time.

First, which variant does he have. He doesn't particularly feel unloved or hopeless. There wasn't anyone he wanted in particular to love him. Ok, nothing. It was maybe safe to say he had that other variant.

Which was stupid because Law had many enemies and he hated all of them.

And cue the racking coughs. More red. He was very familiar with that particular shade.

New theory. This was a new variant that somehow makes you sick when you think of the person you hated the most.

Yes, that had to be it. He thought as he all but collapsed on the floor from the sudden paroxysm.

I knew this was gonna get long. :) Oh well...

Thank you for playing. :D

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