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g00ngala · 1 year

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hopefully this is the last long post i will ever have to make about hit disney show the owl house but I am so sick of people posting paragraphs of lukewarm takes on philip's death so. one last rant for the road, i suppose.

belos's death wasn't unsatisfying, nor was it purely physical. first of all, philip is a representation of greater societal problems (which are notably still there, remember, there's people who want to reestablish his order for their own gain). he is a plague and parasite on the world and a demonstration of humanity's worst cruelties, and his pathetic death by boiling rain and stomping as the most true and good character, who does her best to do right by everyone and believes in second chances, in the entire show, looks at him with no emotion in a way that directly parallels the way caleb's ghost looks down upon him, and he claws at her feet in a desperate attempt to use another person's good nature once again to get what he wants, and fails and dies, is INCREDIBLY symbolic.

and TWO. the point ISN'T that philip is an Evil Liar Who Lies and his backstory is being shafted for simple evil, he is an incredibly realistic depiction of how many people are consumed by their fear of what they don't understand and their hatred, let it fester into a desire to harm, and then elaborate lies to not only manipulate others but trick themselves by their own rhetoric so they don't have to feel bad for it

throughout the show philip is paralleled to cult leaders and militaristic dictators, and he is LITERALLY a puritan colonizer. philip is white man ego in its purest form. yes, the awful society is 75% the fault of Just One Guy, but this is a cartoon. he represents every man who has tried to build a world like this, who burns what he doesn't understand and makes up lies to justify it and trick his own guilt into not eating him alive.

people keep bitching that philip didn't truly face his own lies and realize how awful he was before he died, or that he wasn't given any chance to change, but philip has run the fuck out of chances. the point is he will never learn because he chooses not to. philip had to die because he'd rather lie and rot and take everyone down with him than EVER admit he's wrong. he killed his brother because he tricked himself into believing that caleb betrayed him, romanticized the idea of Caleb in his head and delusionally convinced himself that he tried to save him, while his knife hangs over his brother's ghost eternally, symbolizing the shoved down guilt he'll never truly outrun.

he made hunter believe it was his fault that philip repeatedly harmed him, he told the people of the isles after slaughtering them over and over that it's better if he rules them because he is better than them, he eternally victimizes himself over and over because he is an abuser. his lies are not just to others but to himself. he makes himself believe that the ends justify the means, when the ends are nonsensical rhetoric and the means are horrific violence. because philip is a person who may have had the capacity for good, but he chooses to live in his own hatred and rot everything around him, taking advantage of hunger for power and good natured kindness in the same breath, and he chooses to turn away from the mirror every time, to refuse to acknowledge the monster he's become because he's a coward.

the titan said it themself. his motives aren't genuine, not because he's evil for evil's sake but because he'd do anything to continue to live in his own delusion of heroism and perpetual victimhood. philip is someone you can find in the behaviors of dictators and colonists and evangelical christians and run of the mill abusers all throughout history. this doesn't make him a cookie cutter villain, it makes him a REALISTIC villain, or as realistic as you can get in a cartoon on the disney channel. he wants power and he wants admiration and he wants death and suffering to the people he's scared of, and he'd rather kill himself and take everyone down with him than ever face who he is.

not all villains need a redemption arc to be complex. he doesn't love to rub his hands together cartoonishly and watch the world burn, but some people do actually enjoy harming others. but the realism comes from how he lies to himself and others about it.

sometimes someone can be truly evil, not because they were born that way, but because they choose to be, and because they choose to live in denial about it until they're rotting in the ground.

#toh #toh spoilers #the owl house #philip wittebane #emperor belos #hannah.txt #hopefully the last toh rant ill ever post. goodbye owl house its been fun!

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be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 8 months

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You know what would be funny? While the RDA is obsessing over Pandora's resources and providing the rich assholes with ways to extend their wrinkled existence, the rest of humanity goes “Fuck this shit! Time to fix up our planet!” Like full on terraform Earth back to its former glory.

And so, while the RDA is spending billions to send ships to terrorizing the tall, blue people, the rest of the world is having its redemption arc up until like a year after the second movie, where they’re at the point where they can go “Yoooo, wtf is the RDA doing over there? Oh, they got bored with fucking us over so they moved to alien natives? Nah, send in the Balkan people (These mfs are built different I swear, they’ll just take a breath of pandoran air and go “Umm, spicy and refreshing”). They’re sent on their way (Let’s say they arrive in 1 year flat because screw physics, this is a joke post, mf are going 4 times ftl.), beat the ever living shit out of the Ahaa cartoon villains that are the RDA personnel and teach them some, you know, human decency, queue in the best apology video of all time, leave the blue people alone, boom mission accomplished. RDA gets sued to hell and back (You know, war crimes and all of that) and even more funding goes to fixing up Earth until its basically as we know it today.

Later down the line, the na’vi need help because of some disaster, humanity sends said help, some form of actual peace is formed, Spider becomes the ambassador of human/na’vi relationships (Guy had the glow up of the century, which tends to happen when you live in a time of peace again and people actually love and care for you “ahem, Spider Sully”) Human and Na’vi truly learn about each other (Ones aren’t uncivilized savages, but people with a unique cultures and deep history. Others aren’t advanced savages with boom sticks, but, you guessed it, people with a unique cultures and deep history.) and learn from each other.

And everyone lived happily ever after.

The end

(Very unrealistic, I know)

Ugh, my dream. The terraforming Earth part, not the humans coming back. Because the whole movie is a colonization metaphor, I'm so tentative and iffy on the Na'vi needing or wanting any help or support from humanity.

But regardless, I am obsessed with the idea of humanity healing Earth. I know that we are cynical people and are always like "This is realistic, humans are selfish and would take advantage of Pandora as we did to Earth." And I totally get that, but I also love those humans are inherently good stories. I do think the majority of people care and have empathy about other people and their situations, and the majority of problems in the world are systematic and stem from ignorance. People are uneducated or are struggling with what they have to deal with on their own, and don't have the wherewithal to care about every single other thing that is such a gigantic systematic issue. I would love for people, for everyone, to just be like yeah this isn't okay anymore lets fix it. About anything and then everything. But I digress.

I love the idea of Spider Sully and Jake being a bridge between the Na'vi and humanity. I think Jake would have to be involved as well, because honestly Spider has never been to Earth and has never been with regular humans. My man knows no human culture or traditions, really. He's like, really Na'vi biased in that way, hilariously.

Spider: Na'vi culture is better and more important, obviously.

Someone: well, what is human culture.

Spider: clearly it's test tubes, guns, air lock doors, green paper, Jesus Christ, and also tank tops.

#lol like if all my humanity knowledge was based on avatar i would think they were boogey men coming to snatch me at night #fucking slenderman #spider's like and they worship their god money #miles spider socorro #spider socorro #spider sully #jake sully #avatar #avatar the way of water #james cameron avatar #melissa's asks #melissa on avatar (cameron)

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corpsepaintriddler · 2 months

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The TV Made Me Do It

Pt. 1

Growing up, a young Edward Nygma spent all of his time watching television. His parents had little to no time for him and thought the screen a suitable substitute. Or maybe they didn't, they didn't really care. So, television it was. Anything from Saturday morning cartoons to slashers. From plane crash documentaries to sketch comedy shows. As open as his tastes was, even Ed had his favorite genres. Sci-fi, murder mysteries and game shows. He found endless amounts of comfort in these shows and the characters. They somehow made him feel more seen than his own parents. He felt so at home in these shows, as if he could almost see himself within them. Almost. Simply watching these shows was never quite enough for Edward. He wanted to live them, breathe them, be them. So this was his mission. Create a contraption to teleport ones mind into the vast world of television. Edward had carried this idea with him all the way to adulthood, even after he had achieved his dream job. The head medical examiner at the GCPD. He felt as if the human body was the ultimate puzzle, so this job was the perfect opportunity for him to solve it. Ed was not popular at the GCPD, far from it. He only really made one friend in Jim Gordon. Well, to call him a friend is a stretch. Ed was having a hard time adjusting to life working there and it made him come across as odd. He was frequently teased by others there for being weird and Jim felt bad for him. He ate with Ed and would stop to chat with him at times. Ed could tell tho, it was out of pity. It always was. But, pity or not, it made life a bit easier so he ran with it.

#ed nygma #the riddler #edward nygma #riddlebird #nygmobblepot #sticks writes #sticks Riddler #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #the tv made me do it

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yeehawdemon · 11 months

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The Heavy Burden of a Human Heart

"Creature" Ben Reilly x reader | Frankenstein-esq AU about grief, something inhuman becoming man, and a new heart learning to love.

All character descriptions used are based on the characterizations from the Ultimate Spider-Man cartoon that ran on Disney XD from 2012 to 2017. If that actually bothers you, go cry about it.

Chapter 1 - The Image of the Dead

There was something that settled in your chest, like the overgrowth of weeds. A thorny unwanted pain, almost impossible to get rid of. Pounding in your heart, wisping in your mind. No, not the present shaking fear of the dark or a vampire beyond the threshold of your home- but instead, the gentle cry of an anguished heart. Pitiful grief that grips you like a starved dog grips a rabbit in its jaws. The violent thrashing of a predator executing its prey, dancing in your chest like the most dreaded ballet. Your conscience is torn apart by the loss of your very dear friend.

The rain of the summer storm pours heavily down onto the roof of your home, groaning loudly as if sobbing for you. The thick sheets of water weep down the glass pane of your window, the only light in the room being from the thick gray clouds above. Your eyes flick about the room, never staying too long- never ever longer then the time two heartbeats take out of a minute. You couldn't stay for too long, lest your mind settle and begin to wander. It, however, did not work. Your mind began to drift, a sunny afternoon, waving an early goodbye to a smiling face you will never get to see again.

Three weeks, you believe. It's been three weeks since the accident that took the lives of Peter Parker and three other people, and you have yet to let yourself accept it. The old house groans as you suck in a deep breath, soothed by nothing but your own thoughts. It was no one's fault. An accident is an accident, and he died a hero. A hero, but still gone.

The sheets fall from your chest as you sit up, looking out at the trees beyond your window. Living just outside of town has its perks, including the silent company of such lovely giants. Slipping from bed, you tug the duvet off with you. Dragging it across the ground as you make your way over to the seat in your window. The wooden boards squeak under your feet as you shift your weight onto the cushioned extension of the window. Curling up into the pink satin seat, you press your warm face into the cool glass, fogging it slightly.

For as long as you could remember it's always been the four of you. You, Mary-Jane, Harry, and Peter. Always. And of course people and things change, friends change- but not like this. It was never supposed to be like this. What is there for the three of you to do now that... That's a stupid question now isn't that? What other choice is there but to go on without your friend? Your eyes flick over to the newest letter from your parents, states away they write you from the sea-side you chose not to see. Wanting to spend the last summer with your friends before they went off to college instead. They are blissfully unaware of the news, and of your quiet suffering.

It's been two weeks since that actual funeral, and you haven't seen anyone since. Locked yourself away, unwilling to see anyone. You should, however, go food shopping soon. Your parents sent money again, and you shouldn't let it sit while you commit suicide via malnourishment. However, if you didn't, at least you could see him again. You find yourself gazing outside again, down at the wide clearing your parents called a courtyard. No grass, creating a goopy, muddy mess. That would probably be a nightmare to traverse until it was dry... maybe locking yourself away wasn't such a terrible idea after all.

Your eyes wander the courtyard, allowing your thoughts to go blank and hum a lullaby your mother hasn't sung to you in years. It's a gentle comfort, one needed beyond even you know.

From the side of the house, emerges a figure. Stumbling all over themselves and getting stuck in the thick mud. The notes catch in your throat, an abrupt stop as you are ripped from your thoughts. Your heart pounds as the very worst possibilities formulate in your head. Was this person here to try and break in? Did they know you were home alone? Through the sound of the pouring rain and the natural muffling from the window pane, you can hear them grunt in distress. Your eyes flutter in surprise as a worry builds in your chest.

No. No, this person was not someone with sinister intentions. They look... disoriented, mostly confused, partially hunched over as they stumble about... and this is no type of night for anyone to be out. They'll get ill. Whoever they are obviously they need help.

Help. That's what he'd want you to do, at least.

Quick as a whip, you grab the oil lamp you kept on your writing desk and pull a long old hat pin your grandmother had willed to you. Quickly rushing to your bedroom door. With a short turn of the nob, your surroundings are illuminated dimly. The small amount of light guides you to the stairs and down them as quickly as possible. Your steps are rushed and unsteady as you almost trip over yourself just to get to the front door. Rushing so quick, you don't even give the floorboards time to groan under your weight.

The front door swings open with you. Practically falling out onto the porch, you brace yourself against the railing, chest heaving. A waft of damp air hits your skin, causing your hair to stand on end. "Hello!?" You yell out to them as they stumble to a stable stop. They're not too far away and they're facing you, but you can't make out any discernible features. Their elbows are bared outwards as they hold the sides of their head. Letting out pained and definitely confused grunts. You step forward to the edge of the porch. "What are you doing out here in this rain? Do you need-" Turning the knob of the lamp to increase the brightness, you illuminate most of a courtyard to a certain degree. "...Help?" Your eyes widen in a cocktail of emotions that swirl like a hurricane.

They stand up straight, a broad form looking directly at you like a scared deer. Rain rolls down their pale skin, cold and unforgiving. Their chest heaves, but they don't much more. And well, it's not hard to tell that they... Are actually a he.

He's nude, completely bare as if this was the day he was born. Hair cut short, around half an inch from his scalp. Skin covered with these long stitched up wounds, red with freshness, that wrapped around the circumference of his limbs and torso just above the joint areas. There's one that draws your attention far longer than the others. It forms a 'v' on his chest, the point of which continues in a singular line all the way down to his mound. There was something else off... just wrong about the way his body looked in a way you just can not place. But that wasn't what you came to fixate on. The hat pin, which you had grabbed to use as self defense just in case, slips from your fingers. The metal clattering down the step before sheathing itself in the mud. His nose had a wound that stretched from the bridge to below his left eye and was bruised like it had been broken. It had obviously been reshaped through the break, but that didn't stop your recognition.

The sharp contours of his jaw and famously chapped lips. Wide blue eyes- not blue like the sky at noon or a body of water, but blue like the world during the first licks of morning's newborn light. They bore into you like inhuman beacons, seemingly picking up your fear and reflecting it out back to you. A face you know well, a face you had recently said a very last goodbye to.

You step forward and down into the stairs, voice strung high in disbelief. Bitter, cold rain hits your scalp and slides down the back of your neck, heart twinging at the vision before you. It's not- no. There's no way it is. "Pete-" The movement and sound of your voice seems to scare him, causing him to stumble around again with an angered grunt. The very second he finds his balance, he turns, sprinting straight for the woods. The wave of shock and confusion renders your critical thinking ineffective. "Peter!" You scream into the night, taking off after him. Into the rain and the disgustingly thick mud. Not nearly as fast as him, you trail behind. Pushing through the tree line after him as fast you possibly could. Only being able to follow him by the light glinting off his back.

"Peter, Peter please! Come back! Come back, please!" You yell, slowly losing him in your sights. A loose root finds itself looped over your now dirty feet, sending you flying forwards into the wet ground. The lamp in your hand shatters, glass shards embedding themselves into the palm of your hand.

Even days after, those eyes haunted you. Cutting into you like the blade of a bayonet. You already know the gunshot of the loss of your friend, what a horrible comedy is the stab of seeing his face on a body that wasn't his. That... that wasn't him. It couldn't have been. Too tall, too broad, too... alive. Your heart beats with a confused pattern, mind a mess of confuddled thoughts mixing with murmurs of rationality and denial. There was a part of the rational thoughts that tried to convince itself that it was all a dream. Your grief manifested itself in the realm of your rest, concocting a traumatizing vision in spite of your healing mind. However the bruises on your knees and the deep gashes in your palms tell a much different story.

The market was just as full as it always was. Had the summer rain continued any longer, the street would have been baren except for the willing few. Everyone was dressed nicely, including yourself. Arm in arm with either a parent or a partner, excluding yourself. While you've always preferred colder, wetter weather, you've found yourself glad the storm has gone. There is a pleasant warmth in the air accompanied by a light breeze, it's something more akin to late spring or early summer. Either way, the change is a pleasant and welcome one. Wandering past vendors and barely even looking at what they had to offer. Everything around you felt muddled. Speech, faces, prices. The only things that had found their way into your hand basket was a single jar of lavender honey and loaf of fresh bread. Nothing else seemed to be appealing.

Even though you feel as if your head is a million miles away, being out and surrounded by people makes you feel less alone. Less crazy. Like you could ignore what had happened only a few nights ago. Allowing yourself to only dwell on your friends' loss as former school mates and their mothers pass and shoot you sympathetic glances. Some men, giving you solemn nods. While he left an impression on those he was close to, Peter Parker was not a particularly popular boy. Smart, a bit geekish sometimes, but kind, snarky, and overwhelmingly funny. Not this many people knew or had any attachment to him in life. The only times he stood out were when he got to flaunt his intelligence, and when he had lost his uncle. Other then the accident itself, people knew of his death so widely and acted like this for one reason.

His Aunt.

May Parker is a kind, fun, and spunky woman armed endlessly with the most dangerous thing imaginable- Compassion. She's warm, bright, and is the type of person who can make everyone in a room love her without even trying. She isn't naïve or weak, like some might assume of someone with these traits. She's intelligent, professionally cautious, and unimaginably strong. She's the breadwinner of her home, took care of her nephew and maintained her social and professional relationships even after losing the love of her life.

Now that you think about it, you wonder how she's doing now. She is so strong, but... her husband and the nephew they raised, within only a few years of each other. You only hope she's found some way to not destroy herself, to not be like you.

A startled noise leaves you as another body slams into yours. It's not hard enough to hurt or knock you back, but enough to bring you out of the confines of your head. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I've been so distracted..." You take the blame immediately, because you know it is your fault. If you had been paying attention it wouldn't have happened. Oh. They say that if you wake up in the middle of the night it's because someone is thinking of you, maybe this is similar. Thinking about someone enough to make them appear before you.

She's just as shocked as you are for a split second before she forces a smile. Something unlike her, because she's rarely not smiling. A smile is as natural to her as waves are to the ocean. However you understand and wished there was something you could do to take that away. She says your name gently, and your heart pangs with sympathy. Her smile and tone have the same amount of unhideable melancholy.

With a small tilt of your head, you give her a smile as well- but you're sure it's not too far off from hers. "Hello, Mrs. Parker." You say, knowing she prefers to be referred to by her first name, but wanting to show her respect is such a trying and delicate time. There was a soft hum from her, followed by a light chuckle.

"Oh sweetie, there's no need to be so formal." Her tone holds that sweetness that she is known for, and you can tell that it wasn't forced. She reaches out, and places her hands on your upper arms. "How have you been?" She asks. How like her to ask about someone else's life and feelings during what is probably the worst time in her life.

"I'm..." You can't get a solid answer out, or rather, you can't say anything at all. When you try, all you can see in your mind is the wooden box covered in flowers, nailed shut with one of your best friends inside. Beside it, her. Head down, lips pursed as she tries not to cry again, even though she knows not a soul would blame her if she did. The shared silence says more than any combination of words ever could. Both of your smiles drop flat in a shared knowing. You're both hurting, and you hate that now she knows that you are. You know how upset thinking about you, M.J., and Harry grieving this loss will make her. That's the very last thing you'd want her to worry about.

In that, she wraps her arms around you, and you her. Tucked into one another in a tight embrace. You hadn't gotten to hug her like this at the funeral, one small hug before everyone was rushed to the graveside. She was much too busy with everything else, and you stood off to the side. Hand in hand with Mary-Jane. The two of you gripping each other as if you were to let go, the other would slip away for good. It felt good in a way, once again less alone, but like everything you were feeling was tangible and real. Your grief was nowhere near as intense as what she feels, and you know that with every part of your being- but maybe, just maybe, she's getting some relief from that empty longing pain too.

The other side of the park is a much more suitable place to talk, in the warm summer breeze floats the sounds of the farmers market in the distance. Quiet enough to not mean anything at all. The both of you sit on the park bench. Quietly discussing how you were dealing. You tried your hardest to be honest with her, but one large thing gnawed at you. Something you couldn't possibly tell her. A terrible, delusional, secret. Try as you may to keep it from her and swallow it, it keeps coming back up. Like rich, fatty food in an unsettled stomach.

Your incisors and canines tearing into the wet, fleshy warmth of your inner lips. Chewing them and dotting your tongue with the taste of blood. The taste of blood complimented by the smell of the lavender grown out around the bench legs, the summer-y purple blooms licking at your ankles as they sway in the aforementioned breeze. In fact, many flowers were in bloom despite the scorching afternoons. Small, white daisies are grouped together just behind you and you can only see them out of the corner of your eye. The unseasonal storm must have done them well to have survived this long. Farther on behind May are meadow-like bushels of tiny purple flowers with thin, vine-like stems... behind May.

Oh.

The sound of your name being repeated sucks you right back out of the cozy hiding spot you'd crafted out of full flower beds in your head. Your eyes widen as you notice her worried expression. She says your name again, but this time in a firm and caring tone. "There's something bothering you, isn't there?" Of course there was, but you couldn't tell her. Right?

"A couple of days ago, I... I had a dream, and I saw Peter."

The concern in her eyes washes away, gaze softening as that same sad smile returns. Gently placing one of her hands over yours. "Would you like to talk about it?" It's a simple question, but it makes your heart pang.

No. No you don't. You don't even want her to know something so awful. That there's a... 'man' out there running around with her nephew's face? Even with you framing it as a dream, that's still not a dream you'd want her to know about. "No. It... was dark, and terrible. I don't want you to have to think about it." Your voice cracks as you look down at your folded hands. Hers holding onto yours with such a gentle and reassuring grasp. All the years you've known this wonderful woman, she's always been so kind and accepting. The last thing you'd want to do in the wake of your friend's death is upset her even more.

She gives your hand another squeeze, causing you to look back up at her. There's a look in her eyes, it's too many things for you to possibly place. Concern, grief, fear... knowing. A lump forms in your throat as you force your eyes open wider, trying to fight tears. You didn't want to do this to her, you didn't want to lay everything you were feeling on a woman who is quite literally going through the unimaginable. You wished your mother and father were here. That you could curl up in their laps like a child and sob into their shoulders.

Her chest deflates with a sigh, shoulders relaxing as her lips press flat, something she wants to say resting just on the tip of her tongue. There's an unimaginable weight on her right now, and you're beginning to see how much it's aged her. May Parker was always known for how active and lively she is, but... she just looks so tired. Gently, you rub your thumb over the back of her hand, trying to give back the support she had just given you. "Well, I think we've all been struggling with... some darker thoughts since what happened to Peter's grave."

#ultimate spider man x reader #ultimate spiderman x reader #scarlet spider x reader #Ben Reilly x reader #USM Scarlet Spider x reader #USM Ben Reilly x reader #AU #i dont know what i'm doing #I'm just winging this #please dont be mean to me

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sabraeal · 2 months

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at home with the glass half empty, Part 1

[Read on AO3]

It’s not that Nanami expected fanfare when he returned to the realm of curses and sorcerers; they hardly have time to mourn their dead, let alone celebrate the living. It’s only…

There should be more to it than this. More than Gojo-senpai’s crooned, ‘Nanami-kun’ crackling over the speaker of his phone, rousing him before even the sun's bothered to heave itself over the horizon. More than the mission brief being a location and time couched in a stream of that idiot's nonsense, more than showing up at to the rendezvous as the sole adult not wearing his high school uniform--

More than the situation going pear-shaped at the moment of contact. At least, that's what he'd thought there'd be when he still trained under these people. Last minute texts seemed normal when he was just some shitty teenager; when he was just some student called in as an afterthought once instructors had deemed the situation safe enough to stand in for a lesson. He'd assumed that when he was an adult, when he finally became a peer rather than a pupil, he'd finally be privy to all the secret strategies the other sorcerers seemed to know down to their bones

Now he'd just settle for a plan before they turned a children’s park into a battleground.

Cursed energy drips off his knuckles, liquid in a way real fire never could be. It flickers with the same frantic rhythm as his breath, a flare of flame before it extinguishes itself on the concrete. That had been the reason he’d left, wasn’t it? That there never had been a plan. That their only way of fighting the creeping tide of humanity’s apathy was to throw more bodies at the problem until it was solved.

Even if those bodies were children.

“Threat neutralized,” he pants, quenching the cursed energy licking over his shoulders. They tense in its wake, braced for a fight long over. “…Gojo-san.”

“As expected from my reliable kouhai!” A lanky arms slings itself over his shoulders, drawing him far too close to that smug smile. “Tell me, was it fun? Is it just like old times?”

“I’ve been doing this for a year.” And Gojo-senpai— intolerable, as always— never changes his script. Unbelievable that they gave this man dominion over children. “It’s shit.”

He nods, sagely. “Just like old times.”

Isn’t that the truth. Nanami plucks his blazer off the carousel's rail, slinging it over his shoulders. “If there’s nothing else…?”

“What? You’re not going to stick around? Reminisce about old times?” Gojo’s lip juts out, wounded. “Come on, Nanami-kun—”

“I told you not to call me that.” They’re work colleagues, not classmates.

“You were a salaryman, weren’t you? You know about post-work drinks. Happy Hour?”

He hadn’t gone to those either, not once it was clear he would make more money on overtime than schmoozing for a promotion. “It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Lunch, then,” Gojo-senpai decides far too quickly. As if he’d already planned— “I made bento!”

Ah, there it is. The metal teeth snapping shut on this trap. “All right,” he sighs, slumping under his senpai’s weight. “Show me this…bento.”

The paper bag should have been his warning. It’s rumpled, like it’d been pulled out of the bin, the top not even neatly rolled down but merely clenched shut in Gojo-senpai’s fist, like a cartoon bank robber making his getaway.

“I made your favorite,” he says, so saccharine Nanami’s teeth ache. “What is it you always get now? The casse-croute.”

The casse-croûte is a light meal— a snack, really, though a substantial one— an idea that includes but is not exclusive to sandwiches. What he prefers is the jambon-buerre, the parisien, a baguette slathered in butter and layered with Paris ham— or more often, prosciutto— lettuce and brie. But the konbini around here don’t make a distinction between the two, and by the terrible mockery Gojo-senpai’s mouth makes of a French accent, neither will he.

He takes the bag anyway, top pinched between two of his fingers. Between the grit of his teeth, Nanami manages, “Thank you for the meal.”

What he finds inside is…unspeakable.

“Is this…?” His mouth works, at a loss. “Mozzarella?”

“Nice, isn’t it?” Gojo-senpai’s nose wrinkles above his own egg salad, pressed sloppily between two slices of white bread. “Better than that stinky stuff they usually put on. You know it has a rind?”

The bread squishes beneath his fingers— not a baguette at all, not even a French loaf, but some sort of mass-produced bread-like product. A...sandwich roll, shoved into a plastic bag with a half dozen other of its ilk, sold for cheap and then bought by this absolute fool to be split in twain and abet this blasphemy trying to pass as a sandwich. The lettuce is soggy and— he’s pretty sure— shredded. Maybe even iceburg.

Even still, his mouth salivates. Not for this abomination, but the superior sandwich it apes; the same way cursed spirits shuffle, mere shadows of the human fears that birth them. One sitting behind a glass case, wrapped in crinkling film, crusty bread glimmering enticingly beneath the bakery’s lights. He can taste it, the funk of the cheese and the crispness of the lettuce, the baguette shedding sesame as it yielded to his teeth. And the girl behind the counter—

It’s much better than the konbini’s, isn’t it? The curse coiled on her shoulder cocked its fly-head to match hers, as if it had a share in her pride. As if it were anything more than a leech, sucking the life out of her sip by sip, until only a hollowed-out shell remained. He’d gotten rid of it; his last gift to the world he’d left behind. To the girl who made the perfect jambon-buerre.

A year ago now. His mouth twists. A lot can happen in a year. Do her shoulders still sit so proud? So easy? If he went back, would he find her still smiling, or would there be another one of those worms wrapped around her neck, squeezing tighter every night. Killing her day by day, unchecked, no sorcerer to—

Nanami balls up the bag, sandwich and all, and throws it into the nearest bin. That has nothing to do with him now.

“What’s the matter, Nanami-kun?” Gojo sing-songs, impossibly long limbs sprawled over the bench, taking up as much space as his smile. “Don’t like the sandwich? What’s wrong, too much mayo?”

Mayo. He pinches his nose, adjusting the way his glasses straddle it. “I don’t like anything about this.”

The sandwich, the job. The growing amount of cursed spirits spawning around the city. The strange way Gojo-senpai smiles when he asks about it. Gojo-senpai in general.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Gojo's must as well; he slips his out from his trousers, brows knitted as his eyes scan over the message.

“Lucky us,” he drawls, smirk stiff as a carcass across the spread of his lips. “Another cursed spirit, and only a few streets over.”

Nanami frowns as the man unfurls from the bench, casual as a cat on its way to batter yet another mouse. “There’s more now, aren’t there? That’s why you were all so happy to have me back.”

“Whatever do you mean, my dear kouhai?” Gojo swings close— too close, his mouth all teeth. “Clearly we missed your scintillating personality.”

“It’s gotten worse.” He doesn’t need to see the man’s eyes to know how tightly he’s holding them, not when the rest of him is strung as taut as piano wire. “You think they’re going to overrun us, the way they did when Geto-san—”

“See? There he is.” One of those long hands reach out, patting him on the cheek. Slapping, really. “That’s the kouhai I missed so much. Nanami-kun, always so positive.”

“Don’t call me that,” he grunts, shrugging him off. A tug fixes the sit of his blazer of his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get going. I’m not about to put in overtime for you.”

Gojo rocks back on his heels as he walks away, taking in a deep breath. Despite the clear skies, a thunder rumbles through the city.

“It’s a lovely day for walk, isn’t it?” he hums, the words dogging Nanami’s heels. “How lucky for us.”

The cursed spirit might only have been lingering only a few streets away, but it’s a slippery one, leading them on what Gojo calls a ‘merry chase’ to the other side of town. By the time they corner it, writhing and helpless now that senpai's patience has run out, his stomach is empty enough that even that war crime of a sandwich seems appetizing.

A good thing that he’d put it in the garbage, then. Nanami would never be able to live with himself if he ate mayonnaise with brie. He had never been to France, but he would one day— if only for the food— and they certainly wouldn’t let him in after that.

Gojo-senpai doesn’t stick around to offer another; he’s got to go back to his class, to the children he’s teaching to sacrifice themselves before they even know who they might be. That’s what they’d wanted him to do when he’d first come back. Even had a promising crop of scouted talent, still wide-eyed from having the veil thrown back, the way he had been when he’d first enrolled, but—

But he’d just laughed. Told them to leave all that to Gojo, a man who tasted death and liked the flavor. They had his number; he’d come when they called.

So there’s no reason for him to be here. No reason for him to be idling next to this awning as rain pours down, pelting umbrella he’d bought from the konbini a street over. His old one; the shortest jaunt from his last apartment, closer still to the building where he used to work. One that still didn’t have casse-croute in the case.

But she would.

It’s busy now— the dinner rush, now that the salarymen have been turned out from their offices, ravenous and eager to avoid their empty apartments. Or worse yet, the filled ones— the kind with the children their parents wanted and the wife that begrudges their existence just as much as they begrudge hers.

A red beret blazes behind the counter, but even through the plate glass, it’s outshone by the smile beneath it. She’s been doing well, it seems— it had only even been her at the till before, but there’s two other employees working behind her now. They’re laughing as she tallies up an order, one of them wiping tears from his eyes.

It’s…nice. Good even. More camaraderie than he’d ever seen on the front lines of the stock market. More than he sees now, despite how close these missions fly to death. And that should be enough for him, to see proof of her success, but—

But that fly-head cocks its head, its unblinking stare settling on him through the glass. A larger one than the last. Makes sense; it’s had a whole year to siphon off its sustenance.

Nanami heaves a sigh, and with a nudge of his shoulders, opens the door.

The bell rings, the same bright chime he remembers, but the shop is so full, so lively, that no one bothers to look at the man stepping off to the side, letting another glut of customers through. He collapses his umbrella, careful to keep the extra water from dripping all over her floor. Even from here, he can hear that damn thing chittering on her shoulder, teeth clicking at every twitch of his fingers.

There’s nothing to be done about the thing from back here— he’s not Gojo-senpai, he can’t simply exorcise a spirit from annoyance alone— but he can’t bring himself to join the crowd. To hop in line and simply be yet another customer, not when she could look up and know—

But she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. He’d been a regular for only a few months more than a year ago. There’s no reason for her to remember his face, at least not enough to see past the new set of glasses on his face.

It’s better that way.

One of her employees passes behind her, leaning down to murmur in her ear, and her eyes jerk up, scanning the back of the shop. Not casual, no— that gaze is sharp, focused. Searching. It skims over him— once, twice— then catches, the tense lines collected at the corners of her eyes easing.

Oh.

She does remember him.

Her mouth opens, a hand lifting to a wave— only to flounder in empty air as the next customer shoulders his way to the counter, spitting out his order. She blinks, attention dragged back to the mundane, to the only reality she knows, and—

He should have never come. What difference did it make if he rid her of that curse? Oh, he can pretend it’s altruism, that all he cares about is gaining one small foothold in this war of attrition, but this isn’t about her. No, all this— it’s about him. About his pride. About proving to himself that these small victories meant something-- that even if he fell protecting this world from the horrors they’d never see, he’d leave a mark. That he'd have done something to make is better.

And now Nanami has his answer: he can push these boulders up this hill all he wants, but they’ll always fall back down. It’s only a matter of time.

He should leave.

The rain is still coming down outside, hard enough it bounces off the awning, splattering his already half-soaked blazer. A cluck catches between his teeth, trapped tight as he wrangles his umbrella open. An unremarkable black, one that will disappear into the sea of identical canopies; one more body in the surging tide, and—

And the bell rings. “Wait!”

He’s too close to feign ignorance, to pretend that he can’t hear her as easily as the heart pounding in his chest. That he can’t see her panting where she leans against the glass, rain dripping onto her chef whites. “This is for you!”

It’s the second time today that a paper bag has been foisted on him, but unlike the last, this one is crisp, a clean white with a neat fold at the top. And when he unfurls it, glancing into its pristine depths—

It’s his usual. The jambon-buerre. It’s a miracle his stomach doesn’t growl. “I didn’t…”

Order anything. He shouldn’t even be here.

“I know!” If he’d thought her smile was bright behind the counter, it is blinding this close. He squints into it, half-surprised it hasn’t burned the clouds away. “I keep one in stock, just in case you stop by. As a thank you!”

He blinks down at the bag. It’s been a year, he doesn’t say.

“Your neck,” he manages instead. “Does it still bother you?”

“Ah…!” Her eyes pulse wide. “Yes! How did you know?”

The fly-head chitters on her shoulder, and if it were possible for it to know what danger it was in, Nanami might have called that beady gaze a glare.

“Could you step closer?” His request isn’t breathless, but it is soft; softer than he’s ever spoken. She follows before he’s even finished, quick enough to leave his mouth strangely dry.

His movements are not practiced like he’d thought they’d be. Before he’d been relying on memory, on the feel of how cursed energy collected in his palms, but now he’s used to the way it sits there, to the way it tingles against his skin. He brings up his hand too fast, expecting the weight of the cleaver, but it doesn’t matter— the cut is same with an edge or without, his fingers honed just as sharp when it comes to little pissant curses like this one. It explodes over her shoulder, like a fly beneath a swatter.

When she breathes in, it’s with noticeably more ease, the tense line of her shoulders softened to a more natural curve. Funny how such a little thing could carry so much weight.

“Ohhh,” she sighs, eyes fluttering shut. Her hand raises, rubbing at where it sat, and he— he has to look away. “That’s so much better.”

“Thank you.” The words are foreign on his lips. “For the sandwich.”

For remembering. He turns, umbrella resting on his shoulder. It’s time.

“Wait!”

Fingers tangle in the sleeve of his blazer. Small, insignificant things, grip so weak a hard breath might break it. But it’s enough. This time, he turns back.

“How…?” Her face scrunches, head shaking. “No, wait. I asked last time, but I don’t think you heard me.”

She plucks her phone from an apron pocket, waving it with a smile. Not a shy one, but hopeful. “Can we exchange contacts?”

He stares. Not…forbidding. Simply…blindsided.

“No pressure,” she tells him brightly, despite the pink flush across her cheeks. “If you drop me a line the next time you’re around, I’ll make your sandwich fresh. No charge.”

That, if anything, tempts him. But still— he should go. It’s not good to make connections among the mundane. It only hurts them when they get caught up in his world.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He smiles to ease the sting. “Thank you, though.”

This time when he leaves, she doesn’t call after him.

Nanami waits to eat until he’s home, setting the bag on the counter, right beside his keys. There’s a part of him that’s reluctant to eat it, to take advantage of her kindness when the best he can do is walk away. But the famished part wins out, salivating at the very memory of its taste, of how the butter and brie meld into the most decadent expression of flavor, and—

And he might get a plate, at least. A luxury; he’d always eaten it on the run, trying to finish before he went back to the office, putting more hours in on the clock. Watching his life tick away through rows of a spreadsheet.

He sits down too— ah, what a dream this would have been back then, to sit and savor each bite. To not just cram as much into his mouth as he could before the elevator finish twenty-four flight climb, spitting him out into yet another soulless lobby. He unfurls the bag, extracting the sandwich with exquisite care. There’s a napkin wrapped around it; it flutters to the plate first, and he nearly leaves it there, but—

Sayo, it reads, followed by a string of numbers. Ten of them, to be exact, grouped two, four and four.

Ah. Heat flares where his collar rests at his neck. A phone number. That’s…persistent.

He stands up, skin tingling the same way it does in battle, but there's no curse energy to blame. Only the strange beat of his heart, and the even more foreign sensation of heat beneath his collar. He paces the kitchen, once, twice, trying to expend the tremble in his muscles, to still the half-formed thoughts racing in her head, and--

And with a delicate swipe of his hand, he guide the paper into the bin. Sayo, it still reads, and a number after it. Right there, on top of all his rubbish.

Nanami turns away, taking the plate with him. He’ll eat on the couch tonight.

#jujitsu kaisen #jjk #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami x bakery girl #my fic #at home with the glass half empty #god okay i wrote the draft for all three parts #but unfortunately only had time to write the first one #this is one of those 'rating subject to change' fics #because this is pretty G right now!#but it is not gonna stay that way

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confused-fuckperson · 8 months

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Rewriting a different version of MLB

Disclaimer: I'm not a writer, much less a screenwriter, I'm just someone who enjoys writing and analyzing cartoons.

Oh and sorry for my grammar, as English is not my first language.

My (and I think yours too) relationship with the series is ‘’particular’’.

I remember when I first saw this series when its first season aired and fell in love with it: although the plot was episodic, there were moments that gave the semblance of a plot that was hidden under our noses.

Season 2 arrived, and my interest increased, mostly because certain characters were starting to move in interesting directions (Gabriel and Nathalie with their secret plan to bring Emilie back to life, Chloé showing signs of changing and maturing, the appearance of the new heroes …).

And then the last three seasons came.

Well, I quit the show at the end of Season 3 as I felt the writers and Astruc didn’t value my intelligence and my time was being wasted, but still tended to keep up with the 'plot' via various social media posts.

With the end of the fifth season, I would like to try to rewrite the story with my ideas and with what I would have liked to see, and if so, it would be interesting to know your opinions and what you would have changed .

Let's begin.

-Worldbuilding:

We know that the Miraculouses are magical jewels that allow humans to use certain powers thanks to the Kwami.

In ‘’the Origins’’ they make us understand that almost no one knew of the Kwami and that such abilities were unknown.

Superheroes aren’t the norm.

Like, Majestia is presented not as a living, breathing person, but like a comic book.

…But in the New York special we are told that superheroes are a very common thing? And that you can give superpowers very easily? And Majestia exists? Then why be scared if you have these people in your daily life?

So what is so special about Miraculous? Can the abilities of those who are actually gods really be recreated by people in costumes?

In the first and second seasons they showed us a planet Earth from the year 2014, with all the technologies also present in our world. How the heck is it possible that in what would be 9 months in canon you had practically 9 years of technological development in real life? When I watch a show, I have to know right away what is considered 'normal' and what is 'special', because otherwise I don't distinguish what should scare me and what shouldn't.

Why rely on two teenagers in a suit to fight Hawkmoth when I can call America's heroes? Or use something high-tech that allows me to locate the bad guy in 5 minutes?

Establishing rules and limitations is essential in a magical system.

What would I have done?

Here, only the Miraculous should make you a superhero and, if you really want to insert sci-fi elements, make sure that only Gabriel is in possession of such technologies, and that this is not known to the public.

-The magic system:

Setting precise limits on the powers of heroes and villains ensures that when they have to get out of seemingly impossible situations, they appear brilliant.

And that's why, in my opinion, the series should have focused on the first seven Miraculous we've seen: the ladybug, the black cat, the butterfly, the peacock, the turtle, the bee and the fox.

If you add too many powers, the viewer’s attention gets scattered.

If you add too many superheroes, you have too many characters to handle.

The roles of the protagonists, co-protagonists and of the antagonists must be immediately clear enough so the viewer is not confused on who’s important and who’s not.

Among other things, every Miraculous must have precise and clear powers from the very beginning (I'm looking at you, Miraculous of the rooster).

How I would have handle them:

-Ladybug: Creation. It can purify the akumas but cannot destroy the akumatized item. It repairs everything that was destroyed by using the Lucky Charm (I honestly prefer how it was used in the movie).

-Black cat: Destruction. It can destroy the akumatized item using the cataclysm (so that both heroes are crucial in the battle and not just Ladybug).

-Butterfly: Transmission. It can give ordinary people superpowers, but not abilities of other Miraculous (For example, you cannot create another Chat Noir like in ''Copycat'' or give powers like those of Volpina, which faithfully copies the fox Miraculous, also because it would make her stronger than the Miraculous itself as she can use it infinitely.)

-Peacock. Here, technically the power is called 'Emotion', but on a practical level, it is a mix between Creation and Transmission. Either you totally change the power and make it something related to pure empathy, or you tie it to the creation of animate but non-sentient objects (so that it remains distinct from the Creation of Ladybug, and that it doesn't allow you to create ''human beings'' and not fall into all the unnecessary questions like ‘Are senti-beings humans?’’. Are you telling me that Gabriel and Nathelie actually killed a human on-screen when they made Senti-Ladybug disappear?)

Regarding this, if you really want to link Adrien's birth to the Miraculous of the Peacock and to Emilie's death, you can invent an excuse like that maybe (I’m inventing something) a newborn Adrien was dying and to save him Emilie used her own power too much, damaging the Miraculous and killing herself, thus making Adrien a semi "senti-being" without being mind-controlled by an Amok or by the holder of the Peacock Miraculous.

-Fox: Illusion. Maybe you can also tie it to the concept of deception and lies. Since Alya wants to be a reporter and she likes the world of journalism, it would be nice if she's the one who can find lies more easily.

-Turtle. Protection. It is also the Miraculous of longevity, so perhaps the wearer could be the one who takes the least damage when hit or they’re the one who has the most stamina. Or that the Miraculous guarantees you a longer life, as in the case of Master Fu.

-Bee: Action. In short, to paralyze someone. Honestly, I would also give it the power to force someone to perform a single action for you, If you want to joke about the fact that Chloè is a ''Queen Bee''.

Now, it's not that the other Miraculouses don't exist, they can be mentioned during the story, but since the two most important and the strongest ones are in Paris, Gabriel shouldn't be interested in others of lesser value.

In this version there would still be an order of the guardians, but I would make Fu a more responsible character and an actual mentor.

Let’s talk about:

-The Characters:

The protagonists are Marinette and Adrien, and they must be treated as equals.

You can focus the attention on Marinette, but that doesn't mean you have to treat your male protagonist like his personal doormat.

Let your protagonists have flaws that make them human!

I want a Marinette who is actually insecure, who has a real difficulty balancing her duties as the masked heroine with being a normal girl with a normal life.

Maybe that polka dot mask gives her the opportunity to experiment and find self-confidence that she doesn't have as a civilian (a bit like in the movie).

Let Adrien be a naive boy to the outside world without making him stupid. Naivety and stupidity are two different things.

If in the everyday life Adrien feels the pressure of having to be the perfect son of the great Gabriel Agreste, as a masked superhero he can be the imperfect prankster who wants to discover the world and himself.

I think the love square should remain almost unchanged, but the Marichat must certainly take on a more predominant role: Marinette must appreciate the mask, the part that Adrien never shows except when he is transformed, while Chat Noir must appreciate Marinette's insecurities and fragility , and advise her on how to act accordingly. Perhaps Chat Noir, noticing Marinette's fashion projects, could offer her some advices that he noticed from his father.

If the Marichat would develop in precise moments of the day (Maybe after an akuma attack, and as in those few times it was shown to us in the cartoon, during the evening), the Ladynoir and the Adrienette are those more ''daily'' relationships: Adrienette at school or when hanging out with their friend group, Ladynoir while they are at work.

Ladien would only develop as the reflection of the latter two.

The only thing I might have no idea how to manage are Luka and Kagami: at this point, they could be two characters that the two protagonists like, either because in a moment of crisis between these two, or because they offer the two protagonists different perspectives: Luka, with his calmness and kindness helps Marinette to deal with her anxiety (by the way, I would have loved to see Luka teach Marinette how to play the guitar, it's a very nice trope you know), while Kagami would have encouraged Adrien to break free from his father's control (like how she wants to become independent from Tomoe).

Honestly, I would also avoid Kagami (and Felix) having to deal with being senti-beings, there is no need to complicate things.

Moving on to the co-protagonists: Alya, Nino and Chloè.

While at the beginning Chloè will be as the one from the first season (a spoiled and unpleasant brat), Alya and Nino would be those friends who back up the protagonists and then become permanent heroes when they are given the Miraculous (for me, Marinette and Alya should know about each other being Ladybug and Rena Rouge, while Adrien and Nino know they are Chat Noir and Carapace).

Gradually a solid group of friends would be created and where they can count on each other, just like in the first and in the second season.

And Chloè? Well, since a 14-year-old can change (Right, Astruc?), her evolution would be gradual until she becomes a stable member of the friend group. She is Adrien's childhood friend, and he will be the one who will help her to become a better person. And her admiration for Ladybug will make her understand the importance of her responsibilities (Like at the end of the second season, before Astruc ruined her because for some reason he hates blondes.)

And even if she reveals that she is Queen Bee to prove her worth to her mother, she can always create a new identity for herself. Don't tell me he can't do it, Chat Noir does it in ''Cat-Walker'' and it worked.

The one who keeps the group together would be Nino, with his chill personality, but that still doesn't let himself be fooled by someone else: he would be the one who calms the situation in case Chloè, Marinette and Alya start arguing or if Adrien doesn’t have the courage to let his voice get heard.

Each character in the group will obviously have their own individual passions that could actually help them defeat Hawkmoth: for example, Alya could be the one who carries out the investigations to discover the identity of the villain.

In terms of passions, some are already more obvious: Marinette as a fashion designer, Alya as a journalist, Nino as a DJ (ok, but how cool would it have been to see Nino help Alya with the music and organization of her Ladyblog? It would have been adorable).

Chloe and Adrien? Well, I'm going to make something up here, still linking it to the main series.

Chloè at first wanted to become like her mother, a stylist, only to then realize that she was more cut in the leadership position (as a ''Queen Bee'').

A Chloè who aspires to become mayor of Paris (like her father, but less corrupt, or like in the fifth season), but competent and mature. Of course, she would be mayor as an adult (The writers of the series may not know that Parisians will burn your city down if they don't like you).

Also, come on, Chloè would totally have a secret cove built up, like Batman. She may have changed here, but she’s still a diva.

Adrien is more of a special case.

I'm going to pick up on the 'Wishmaker' concept where he doesn't know what he wants to be as an adult, and only wants to please his parents. This would mean that Adrien has not found an identity yet.

Perhaps, with his friends, he will find one that will detach him from Gabriel.

Side note, imagine if he became a pastry chef? Adrien joins Marinette's family, carrying on the family business, while Marinette enters the world of the Agreste family and Parisian high fashion world.

Master Fu will obviously be the guardian of the Miraculouses and the mentor of both Ladybug and Chat Noir. In this version of the series we will actually see lessons where Fu teaches the kids the history of the Miraculous, their powers, how to control their emotions and, above all, how to trust each other.

Seeing that he was like a teacher for the two protagonists, it would certainly make his departure more painful for both, and would alarm all the heroes towards the two main antagonists: Hawkmoth and Mayura.

Gabriel must actually be a sympathetic antagonist: in the series he almost seems to forget that he does everything for his son (Gorizzilla's Gabriel and Chat Blanc's Gabriel are completely different, let's be honest).

Gabriel obviously has to act in the shadows, but when he realizes that he can't do this alone, he will involve Nathalie more, until she becomes Mayura (even if, on this, Gabriel does not agree , as this would lead her to her death).

Nathalie, even if in love with Gabriel, would bring Emilie back to life just to see him happy, even if that would mean losing the only chance she has with Gabriel. But, since she will then realize that what they are doing is profoundly wrong towards Adrien (who in the meantime has moved on) and towards the whole world (the desire would destabilize the cosmic balance), first she try to make him change his mind and then to stop him with a fight which she would then lose as she was too weak due to the peacock Miraculous.

When Nathalie becomes too sick, We’ll see Lila (or whatever her name is) again, who will have distinguished herself as she seems to be more aware and more willing to be "manipulated". Lila, of course, would be ready to betray Gabriel at the right moment, as for her, being a narcissist and a pathological liar, she is only interested in power and adoration.

I know it's not perfect, but these are my thoughts on a possible rewriting of the series.

I would appreciate other advices and, above all, opinions and criticisms.

#miraculous ladybug #mlb #mlb spoilers #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous fanart #miraculous awakening #miraculous marinette #adrien agreste #miraculous adrien #adrienette #marichat #ladrien #ladynoir #chat noir #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculous lb #miraculous fandom #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fanfiction

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naminethewriter · 6 months

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Hidden Interests

We're back again, @intrulogicalweek is here! I am participating on a smaller scale this year, so I hope you enjoy this little One Shot! Just some insecure Logan and his supportive boyfriend Remus to start us of. Hope you enjoy 💙💚

Masterpost | Intrulogical Week 23 Masterpost | Ao3

Summary: Logan wants Remus' help with an experiment. Remus figures he knows where he got his inspiration from this time.

Content Warnings: None

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“So, what did you drag me out here for, Supernerdva?” Remus asked as he steps into the Imagination, following after Logan, who was holding a clipboard to his chest.

“I would like you to help me conduct an experiment.”

“Alright, what kind? Is it going to be bloody? Am I going to get hurt? Oh! Oh! Can we see what happens if we melt my skin off???” Remus jumped up and down in excitement, but Logan shook his head.

“I am willing to assist you with your ideas another time but right now I would like to test how the human body would move if it had the qualities of a rubber ball.”

Remus tilted his head. “Like the bouncy ones?”

“Yes, indeed. I am particularly interested in how the human shape effects the trajectory and I would like to differentiate between you having full mobility and no mobility at all.”

“Like turning my bones and muscles into rubber as well?! Sounds fun!” Remus grinned and Logan seemed delighted by his enthusiasm in turn.

“So, you are amicable to assisting me?”

“Yeah, sure! I’ve got just one little question beforehand.”

“Very well.”

“Have you been watching Phineas and Ferb?”

Logan froze. Remus was grinning at him with his sharp teeth on full display. A shudder ran down his back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tried to deflect but Remus’ grin just grew wider.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Lo Lo! Nothing wrong with watching a kid’s cartoon. Especially not a classic like Phineas and Ferb.”

“Again, I do not know what you are referring to. I do not engage with children’s media.”

“Riiiiiiight. So, you weren’t inspired to do this by The Night of the Living Pharmacists where Phineas, Ferb and their friends build a machine to rubberize themselves so they can bounce around and coincidentally end up immunized to the zombie apocalypse Doofenshmirtz accidentally started after he zapped his brother with an inator that’s supposed to make him super-duper ugly?”

“…No.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I do not see how this is a relevant discussion.” Logan turned away from Remus, trying to hide his flushed cheeks.

“Lo Lo,” Remus called quietly after a moment of silence. He didn’t try to move into Logan’s line of sight, but he brushed his hand with his own in a silent question. Logan reached back, letting Remus know it’s okay to hold his hand. “I’m just teasing you a little. There really isn’t anything wrong with you watching the show.”

“But… it’s for children,” Logan insisted in a small voice.

“So what? Thomas watches lots of kid shows. Especially cartoons. Hell, he made up an entire character to teach people how much you can learn from them.”

“Yes, but he’s Thomas.”

“Yeah, and we’re part of him.”

“But I am logic! I am supposed to read books, help him stay focused, not…”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Remus interrupted his rambling before it could move too deep into self-deprecation. “We’ve talked about this, Logie. You being logic doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to feel or enjoy things. I know it’s hard to internalize, so let me tell you again.” Gently, he pulled on Logan’s hand to get him to turn around and face him. “You are more than just your function. Your interests are valid, no matter what.”

Logan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I know.”

“Good. And if you forget, I’ll be here to remind you.”

“Thank you, Meus.”

“Always, Love.” Remus pulled him into a quick kiss before stepping back a bit. “Now, let’s make me the bounciest bitch around!”

#namiswriting #intrulogical week 2023 #day 1: experiment/hypothesis #intrulogical #ts remus #remus sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #hurt/comfort #insecure!logan #supportive!remus #phineas and ferb references #sanders sides #fanfiction #reblogs are appreciated

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fictionkinfessions · 5 months

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I want to shed light on a common misunderstanding about fictionkin (I’m not the best at wording things, but please stay with me here)

Using my most recent kintype, Milo Kamalani, as an example. When I say, “I was Milo in a past life,” it's important to clarify that I'm not referring to being the pixels on a screen or the drawings on paper created by animators. I was a living, breathing person composed of flesh and bones. It's curious that while many accept the concept of past lives involving fantastical creatures like dragons, some dismiss the idea of a past life as a regular human in a different universe as a 'delusion.' My past life happened to closely resemble a character from a cartoon in this universe, but I’m not claiming to be a f-ing drawing! It’s just a coincidence that the drawings happen to have very similar things to the stuff in my past life.

(Wish all those kinphobes who keep saying that I ‘can’t be a fictional character’ would read and understand)

I don't have the confidence to post this non-anonymously, but if I had confidence I would scream this 100 times

boz

#fictionkinfessions #fictionkin #milokamalanikin #ableism cw #mod party cat #please just say anti kin

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moonsb1996 · 6 months

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How to write convincingly, part 2

Okay, okay! Holy motherfucker! Let's talk about this again because I think many people know what I'm talking about. Yes, "How to write convincingly." And this is the second part from the first part I complained about. When you are a writer Besides you have to create a new world. Or add from the real world in our imagination how the story came to be. We still need something called "limits".

So what is "limit"? 1) What are the living things in your story? Is it a person, a ghost, a god, or a new, unknown species of alien? If in your story there is a person who became a person with special powers super heroes And there are some groups of mutants and ordinary people who have no powers. What limits do they have? What can humans do and not do? Human superheroes still have all the same features as humans, such as the 3 rules: not without air for more than 3 seconds, not without water for more than 3 days, and not without food for more than 3 months. yes ! There are humans who can hold their breath for 22 minutes. You can go find out. But he can do it because He's an ordinary human being, trained for years! Okay, let's talk further. What do these "superheroes" who look like humans have that are different from ordinary people besides their powers? So what are the disadvantages? And the super heroes like mutants What are the advantages? And some disadvantages? To be a mutant, there will be things that are similar to the characteristics of the creature that they are. Or do they have any behavior that is different from other people's? Or is it really the same as the human characters in the story, but because of their appearance, is it overlooked?

2) power scales When you have a power scale What effect do these scales have? Is it like in the game DND where you have to get a dice number and go + - X, Y, Z? Then compare it with other characters and do it again to continue the story or not? And is your power scale appropriate for your character, such as experience? Ability Value or the character's age example Character A is a war veteran. and became a special agent, killing big villains with his own hands Meet the character B, a 17-year-old serial killer who has been on the run and no one has been able to capture her for 2 years. Let's fight. Who will win or lose? Following the Shonen style, the older you get the stronger you compete, so the winner must be A, right? (But some people choose that a 17 year old girl can take a knife and stab a pro hero in the shoulder Moreover, she was able to escape too, huh! Why? She's a naked girl!)

3) upgrades What "rules" and "limits" are there that can make the characters in your world upgrade their powers? physical and mental training or having to encounter serious experiences or risk death So it can be upgraded? or encountered some form of cruelty (Emphasis on mental imagery) and power upgrades Going another way with those who practice physical training? Then the bodies of the superheroes in this world will be able to withstand the How often can you continuously upgrade? For example, you can only do it once. Or more? Or the mental image does not consent because it directly affects So there is no upgrade itself? So what are the things that people who can do more than other humans do that make some of other people's "rules" or "limits" ineffective for themselves? such as ancestral bloodline or become more infected than others But is there immunity? (This idea is bloodborne. If you have a lot of insight, you become the great One.) (But yes! Someone chose their beloved child to be Gary Stu with all his heart to work normally. The brain has never lacked oxygen, an arm has never been broken, blood has never been lost before! Oh, and speed up too. will be able to follow the super villains Saturday - Sunday in the TV cartoon)

I still have many more. But I'll probably have to compose it again. Thank you for reading until the end.

#mha critical #bnha critical #anti toga himiko #anti bakugou katsuki #anti bakugou

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haljathefangirlcat · 2 months

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if i saw a fairy: yeah, okay, this is impossible. which means it's either a dream, a hallucination, or highly advanced technology being used to fuck with people because who gives a damn about the good of mankind anymore, I guess. only two of these options are worrying, and only one of these two is something I probably need to do something about personally asap.

if i saw a fairy and it somehow proved its own reality: mmmmh. okay. okay. let's not freak out just yet. you've read stuff about this. tons of stuff, actually. the important thing right now is not magic existing or whether "stories of humanoid magical creatures were actually inspired by contact with Neanderthals" theories can be considered to have a grain of truth to them if the ancient other humanoid species turns to really be that tiny. the important thing is not dying and not being lured under the hills or to the Land of Eternal Youth. start coming up with extremely polite excuses for why you can't eat anything or listen to music, now.

if a walrus knocked on my fucking door and i was able to tell it was an actual real walrus because even someone in a big walrus costume wouldn't look like an actual real fucking walrus: ????????? why is this giant monstrosity with enormous tusks, best known from every nature documentary about the arctic i've ever watched for being able to kill other giant monstrosities with enormous tusk by merely repeatedly slamming its fucking huge weight and girth into them until they're dead and also for being able to fight off polar bears, on my fucking doorstep. i know for a fact that the one nature park near where i live, which to be fair isn't even really that close, doesn't have any fucking walruses. i wouldn't even be able to tell you where the nearest zoo is, but certainly nowhere this fucking close either. the closest big body of water is a sweetwater lake where i've never seen anything but fish, ducks, and swans. i have no fucking frame of reference here. i have no fucking idea what to do. at all. do i try to make myself bigger? or does that only work with mountain lions in American cartoons? should i run back inside? or would any sudden movement cause it to hurl itself at me and kill me by repeatedly slamming its fucking huge weight and girth into me until i'm dead. should i just stay very very very still and try to pretend i'm not even breathing? should i drop down and pretend i'm dead? should i call animal control? the police?? the fucking firefighters??? let's face it, i'll probably just call my mom first. does she know the first thing about dealing with walruses? fuck no, but she'll yell at me when i freak out to snap me out of it and then speak in a much softer gentler voice when i start crying instead. also she had the sort of childhood that was punctuated by headless hens running around in the yard because they weren't decapitated properly, a furious pig rampaging through the streets while squealing all of its rage at and hatred of the human race to everyone's terror and the screams of parents forcibly dragging their children back inside because it wasn't shot properly between the eyes before being brought to the butcher, and an escaped circus lion taking a nice stroll through the town and then deciding to rest beside a briefly unattended baby until the police managed to find it without apparently once thinking of harming the baby. she is a woman who has seen horrors and miracles. she'd kill the fucking fairy with a fly swatter and think about the existential implications later.

#tbh i don't even know why i'm so taken with this whole fairy vs walrus thing but here we are

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cakeboxie · 11 months

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Persona 5 hcs!!

Lol I had to rewrite this TWICE bc I use ctrl-z a lot and tumblr deleted my ENTIRE FUCKIGN POST

Anyway

I’ve been reading fanfic all day and the p5 brainrot is strong lol I wanted to do all the PTs + Akechi and Maruki but I got bored of writing this

Notes:

Not all of these are positive (esp Futaba)

There will be nsfw, so mdni pls :D

Some are reader insert, some aren’t

Reader is gn unless I fucked up somewhere and didn’t notice lol

Characters: Akiren, Ryuji, Ann, Yusuke, Makoto, Futaba Triggers: mentions of abuse of all varieties, panic attacks, dissociation, past homophobia, Kamoshida being himself, self image issues, eating disorders, obsessive behavior, needle phobia, blackmail, hallucinating.

╰┈➤ Akiren

→ The man is TOUCH STARVED. He’s so used to being the shoulder for people to cry on when you offer to cuddle with him without expecting him to comfort you he fucking reels.

→ To elaborate on the above; in public he’s pretty subtle, usually just holding your hand or letting you lean on him when the trains are packed and you can’t reach a handrail. But in private he’s the walking definition of clingy. He has on more than occasion begged you to sit in his lap while he does whatever task he needs to do just so he can feel you near him.

→ Whether his name is Ren or Akira is an ongoing joke that Sojiro knows the answer to because of having done all the probation paperwork, but he won’t spill no matter how much the PTs beg him to

→ Despite his maxed proficiency stat and the amount of time he spent playing video games prior to moving to Tokyo he is entirely mediocre at mario kart.

→ He can draw! He doesn’t do it often and is unwilling to admit that he’s actually pretty okay at it.

→ He bluffs his way through the first time you sleep with him because he is a virgin somehow even with almost every living human in Tokyo throwing themselves at his feet.

→ The fact that he’s a quick shot is a closely guarded secret that you unearthed because you noticed he makes a point of making you cum on his fingers at least once before fucking you and when confronted about it he went very quiet and tried to stay stone faced despite the comically bright blush that painted his cheeks.

→ Awful phobia of needles post 11/18 to the point where he avoids seeing Takemi because the cartoon needle on one of her posters is enough to trigger his panic attacks.

→ He has frequent nightmares, and won’t tell you why. But they worsen significantly post 11/18, with him calling you at least once on most nights to help him through his panic attacks.

╰┈➤ Ryuji

→ He has a reputation for being desperate, and he definitely is, but in reality he’s far less shallow than it seems.

→ When you ask for his help dying your hair he practically leaps at the idea, and you learn that he’s really fucking good at it from maintaining his own bleached hair.

→ Ren got him a super sonico figure as a gift once and it lives unopened under his bed. Not because he has shame or doesn’t like it (he very vocally loves it actually) but because he’s worried about his mom accidentally seeing it one day.

→ THE PUPPY DOG EYES OMFG

→ The smell of alcohol gives him panic attacks, and he makes a point of avoiding the trains at night because of this.

→ Despite his initial reaction to conflict being fighting, he crashes hard after and often isolates himself for hours after while he dissociates.

→ He smokes more than he’s willing to admit, and thoroughly hates himself for it bc he can feel it fucking up his lungs and making it harder to catch his breath when he’s running.

→ He is bi, but is very defensive and unwilling to talk about it because he’s still working through the homophobia instilled in him by his father.

→ He is also a quick shot, but isn’t really good enough with his hands to compensate.

→ He does however really like watching you get off without him while he waits for you to finish so he can fuck you.

╰┈➤ Ann

→ Women <3

→ She often asks you to model with her, and should you agree she beams like you’ve just given her the best gift she’d ever received.

→ Her love of sweets seems to be contagious, as the more time you spend with her the more you find yourself enjoying them.

→ Really hates being touched, it takes her several months of gentle encouragement to let her hold your hand because the only person who ever had was Kamoshida.

→ Extremely anxious around men, and often gets you to stand between her and any dudes on the trains/in public in general.

→ Horrific self image issues, she covers it well with faux confidence, but she is deeply insecure and tends to hide herself away when she’s doing poorly.

→ She cries a lot, just in general. It doesn’t even need to be sad, she’ll cry just as hard over a really cute dog as she will a heart wrenching scene in a movie.

→ The local Romance Expert despite never having been in a healthy relationship.

→ You can tell when she’s struggling because it’s the only time she could be caught dead in sweatpants.

→ The pink highlights from her P5D outfit are canon to me, argue with the wall.

╰┈➤ Yusuke

→ He asks to paint you often, but rarely actually does. Often breaking down into fits of insecurity about his “inability to capture your beauty” as he puts it.

→ So very autistic, he is easily overwhelmed and carries a little notepad that he uses for communication when he inevitably goes non verbal, and for little doodles to help him ground himself.

→ He really awkwardly asked you out after a long conversation with ann about the difference between romantic and platonic feelings

→ “Ah… So my urge to include them in every single one of my paintings in some way is not platonic?”

→ He borders on obsessive about you once you & him start dating officially, and often cancels plans with the PTs to spend time with you.

→ Shy of losing himself in his painting he will drop anything he’s doing regardless of its importance on the off chance he can see you.

→ He asked at one point to paint you nude but for the first time in his life got so flustered at the sight of you that he had to excuse himself, and never asked again after that.

→ Past the first time asking him to hold your hand, he’s very casual about physical affection. Often attaching himself to you in one way or another unconsciously.

→ The only PT besides Akechi who isn’t a virgin.

→ Everyone was fucking appalled when they learned this ^ because how did yusuke end up with bitches and akiren didn’t???

╰┈➤ Makoto idk much about her I’m so sorry makoto enjoyers

→ Really fucking weird music taste? Like her study playlist is 90% breakcore and the first time akiren heard it he got fucking whiplash.

→ Teetering on the edge of gifted kid burnout and only manages to survive because of the terrifying amount of black coffee she drinks

→ She’s got an eating disorder and has a really bad habit of talking about her disordered habits like they’re normal.

→ Then is shocked when everyone is like “girl what????”

→ Haru was her lesbian awakening and even though they’re not dating anymore she still loves Haru dearly

→ That can be said about most of her exes, she tends to fall in love quickly and never really fall out of it, thankfully the rational part of her has prevented her from being seriously hurt.

→ Absolute pillow princess, despite the ongoing bit about her pegging ryuji there is not enough money in the world to convince her to be any kind of dominant.

→ almost kissed ann once on a dare and was so nervous she literally started sobbing, which caused ann to also start sobbing, they never ended up kissing.

╰┈➤ Futaba

→ She has bugs on everyone’s phone, and listens in on them constantly even after they change her heart.

→ She’s really creepy in general, and has a massive stash of audio clips and videos taken from security cameras and the bugs that range from mildly entertaining to blackmail worthy levels of incriminating

→ Has a document dedicated to everyone’s taste in porn.

→ She is autistic in the opposite direction as yusuke, she’s perpetually underwhelmed and needs to have 5+ different stimuli going at any time for her to be able to do anything

→ Likes akechi a little too much literally just because he likes featherman as much as she does.

→ Didn’t stop hallucinating after her heart was changed, they just became mild enough to ignore.

→ Had a really weird crush on akiren before her heart was changed, in hindsight it was probably just because she has a voice kink and she spent a lot of time listening to him talk.

#pvbbywrites #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #akira kusuru #p5 spoilers #ren amamiya #ryuji sakamoto #persona 5 ryuji #ann takamaki #yusuke kitagawa #p5 yusuke #futaba #makoto niijima #futaba sakura #pvbbysmut

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