#I hate hate HATE even throwing out a line like this

[slurmpinheimer]

from @cyber-harpie !! spit that shit homie!! I thought this deserved to be seen because it brings up a lot interesting points—and I do agree with this, though it got me thinking again. I would like to add a few things to my initial statement because analysis and talking about Kim is fun;

(WARNING: MAJOR KIM-RELATED YAPPAGE BELOW)

I’ve watched several play throughs where (especially at the beginning of the game/if they have low psyche) people aren’t sure of Kim, or even go so far as to call him annoying, a buzzkill, or an asshole. At first I found myself getting really defensive about this. Obviously not to the point that I made any hate comments or anything, that would be silly— But just in my head, automatically dismissing it because I love him and didn’t want to hear it. I couldn’t imagine anyone disliking him, instead of thinking deeper and considering *why* people might come to these conclusions.

I believe the bits we get from Esprit and Empathy support my initial point that Harry is the perfect narrative device to meet Kim through. If I remember correctly, Kim was written specifically to find Harry funny, and Harry’s skills let us see that. and that’s IF you succeed the checks, or if you’re dedicated enough to save scum to see other possibilities/go through Fayde to see what other options might have held.

Like, before I learned about the end of the Homosexual Underground thought line, I certainly had my suspicions. I definitely thought Kim was at least queer-coded and headcanoned him as gay, but that thought trail is behind a legendary Composure check that I spent like 10 full minutes save-scumming. I had low motorics on my first run, and I only tried so hard because I had been spoiled and knew that it gave a thought called “Homosexual Underground” and needed to see where that led with my own eyes.

That’s just one example too—There’s several times that Kim Lore is behind hard checks (Ace’s High/Low, that tidbit about him smoking weed lol) or things he just refuses to elaborate on without specific circumstances. Plus there’s all the stuff that you can learn when you play a different quest line. I’ve had several people tell me that going through a fascist ends up with Kim actually being pretty open about things you don’t learn about in other questlines. I don’t even know all the details of that yet because I’ve been so busy doing the other quests and achievements that I haven’t finished a fascist run yet.

My thought process with all this is that without seeing Kim through the lens Harry, who works with him almost constantly for a week straight in a situation where deep and meaningful conversation is not just encouraged but *needed* to build a repertoire and ultimately solve the case—Not to mention the patience and care Kim treats Harry’s situation with—I can see how someone would look at Kim from the outside and find him to be… (anguish at typing out this word) …mid.

So yeah. On the surface level; Kim is a cop. He can be condescending and uptight, sometimes leading into lecturing people (something he himself admits). He plays his cards close to his chest, with both his moralist beliefs and even more so his sympathies for the rebellion—Which can make him look a bit like a fence sitter. He can be emotionally unavailable towards himself and others, making him hard to read and sometimes appear cold.

But past that, he is a beautifully crafted, deep character, and the perfect foil to the chaos that is Harry. He is the man that reaches out to shake your hand even though you ghosted him two days prior. He will pat you and give you a handkerchief when you throw up. He can be the man that sticks up for you time and time again, not just because he needs to in order to solve the case, but because if you really try, he believes you’re a good detective at heart. Past suicidal rants and nervous breakdowns, he encourages you to keep going.

He has been beaten down, ground and polished to a smooth finish by mutiple facets of oppression—from his glasses, to his race, his sexuality, all fundamental parts of himself that he cannot change. From years of working in a high-pressure, volatile work environment with low pay and little benefits other than the small satisfaction of completing a case, only to dive headfirst into the next one.

He pushed aside his lofty dreams of the skies to be down with the rest of us in the dirt and mud, trudging, struggling through life until we all inevitably burn away the fuel reserves and are nothing but smoke, a memory in the mind of fire.

Beyond that carefully constructed exterior, past his wall of professionalism (and habit of using his notebook as a shield) hides a goofy nerd, a lover of crosswords and cars, of silly radio stations, and a deep appreciation for beautifully bearded muscular men. He is an expert user of sarcasm and master of cryptic jokes, some even philosophical or political in nature. At his core, he wants to make things better for the people around him. He wants to believe he can make a difference, no matter how long it takes or how small the change is. Even if working for the RCM destroys him before he can see it come to fruition.

He is wonderful. He is amazing. He’s probably my favorite character all of fiction, and I don’t think there will ever be a day in my life that I stop loving him. That’s pookie you’re talking about. I’ll always have space in my heart for him.

He will live on as long as we do, as real as The Man From Hjemdall is to Roy because Disco Elysium *made* him real, handcrafting him, giving him life between margins and pixels. And that is worth everything.

Kim Kitsuragi is a fascinating character because there's not that much fun or interesting or compelling about him. And yet somehow over the course of playing Disco Elysium the game rewires your fucking brain around him. He's the middest man you've ever seen in both appearance and personality but at some point he says something kind to you or something critical of you and you feel like you just got hit by a truck and you need his approval like you need oxygen and like how tf did this happen. what are you

[nanamineedstherapy]

Controversial Opinion: The Anti-Sugar Baby Manifesto

Okay, so... does anyone else not want to be Nanami’s sugar baby, Gojo’s dependent, Sukuna’s servant, or insert your favorite emotionally unavailable man’s sidekick?

I’ve read (and loved!) plenty of fics where the reader is in one of these roles. And honestly, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying them—power to you if that’s your vibe! But if we’re talking canon or even slightly realistic scenarios… yeah, I just can’t.

Before you start throwing tomatoes 🍅, hear me out. I promise this isn’t a hate post—just my thots.

Alright, buckle up because I’m about to destroy your sugar baby and servant fantasies with my unsolicited, unhinged takes.

Nanami Kento:

You wanna be Ken Doll’s sugar baby? Cute, but be serious. This man is one passive-aggressive comment away from throwing himself into traffic because he hates capitalism that much. He chose exorcisms and certain death over Excel sheets. Excel sheets, babe. If you think he’s gonna work overtime to buy you Versace, you’re delusional.

If I were with him, I’d work harder at my job (I hate corporate too, but not more than I love Nanami) and funnel my salary straight to him. He’d handle it responsibly because I’d just blow it on expensive pens, another PC, and iced tea. But also? I’d keep an emergency fund. Trust no one. Not even your man.

Let’s not forget the workplace romance trope. This man is the epitome of professionalism. He’d never date his coworker, let alone his secretary. Not because you’re not amazing, but because the power imbalance would haunt him. Like, he’d wake up in a cold sweat thinking about HR policies. And I respect that about him bcs same.

Also, please don’t get involved with someone who promises love and then runs to HR if his job’s on the line. (Not Nanami but in general advice.)

The stats don’t lie, and I’m not about to become the next cautionary tale in a LinkedIn post.

Gojo Satoru:

You wanna date Gojo? Cute. Except he wouldn’t date you, let alone spoil you. He wouldn’t date anyone. He’s emotionally constipated, a walking trauma fest, hyperfocused on being the strongest sorcerer alive™️, and allergic to vulnerability.

Most fics turn him into this suave flirt, but let’s be real—canon Gojo struggles with human interaction beyond being a troll. He’s a nerdy dork, so his game is shit even if he wanted to date you.

Y’all write him as this rich sugar daddy, but in reality? He’d spend your entire relationship trolling you, gaslighting you into thinking he’s a “normal guy,” and then disappearing for weeks because he’s busy babysitting teenagers and battling his inner demons.

Also, sugar babies love his money, but be honest—you don’t even like him; you like his black card. Gojo deserves better than being your walking ATM, and you deserve better than a man who’d eat your last snack just because he can.

Gifts are cute, but if he’s doing all the work while I’m chilling? That’s just freeloading.

I'm yet to come across a fic where he takes the time to realize he even wants a relationship, instead of being a pre-established fuckboy who suddenly changes because he found the 'right person.' Let’s be real, that’s not how it works. We shouldn’t glorify men for changing after finding the right person or excuse their past behavior, including any STDs they may have/had.

(Note to self: In future fics, explore his struggle to admit he wants a relationship and the challenges he faces in figuring out how to be in one.)

Haibara Yu:

So, you’re thinking about dating Haibara? Buckle up, ‘cause you’re signing up for a rollercoaster ride where the tracks are constantly under construction. Haibara’s got the energy of someone who just found out about sarcasm, but also the emotional depth of a puddle.

This guy’s all fun and games until you realize he’s like a cat that wants attention, but only on his terms. He’ll say the most unbothered things with that sunshine stare of his, but don’t be fooled. That’s his way of hiding his entire emotional baggage.

One minute, he’s sarcastic and aloof, and the next, he’s unexpectedly clingy, wanting to know if you still like him (even though he’d never admit it). You’ll spend half your time wondering if he actually likes you or if he’s just in a perpetual state of "I’m too cool for this."

Does he care? Absolutly. Expect texts like "I'm fine" followed by a cryptic emoji and zero context.

Dates? Don’t hold your breath. He's too busy trying to be taken seriously.

He’s not a millionaire either. Don’t expect a big grand gesture. His idea of spoiling you? Buying you a drink from the convenience store, giving you stale candy and maybe, just maybe, sending you a playlist of sad songs that “remind him of you.” Yeah, romantic, I know.

He’s not gonna spoil you with gifts, but he’ll share his last pack of gum like it’s the greatest act of love ever. Don’t expect consistency, just an occasional burst of affection sandwiched between long silences and sarcastic banter.

Would he be loyal? Absolutely. Would he constantly second-guess himself and need reassurance that you're not going to leave him because he doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings? Definitely.

Prepare to give him more emotional support than you ever signed up for. Would he adore you? Yes, but he’ll probably think it’s too much work to actually show it. But hey, if you’re into emotional chaos and not knowing where you stand, Haibara’s your guy.

You probably only like him because you know nothing about him.

Ryomen Sukuna:

The “servant/concubine” trope is insane. INSANE. You think Sukuna, the literal King of Curses, is gonna treat you like anything more than a chew toy? The power imbalance isn’t sexy—it’s electric chair. You’d either die mid-hookup (his hands alone could snap you in half) or be tossed into a volcano because you sneezed too loudly.

Be fr—he’d accidentally (or on purpose) kill anyone he sleeps with. The man’s a giant sadist, naturally rough, and has zero chill.

Romance? Nonexistent. Sukuna’s idea of flirting is probably something like, “You’re less annoying than most humans. Barely.” That’s not romantic; that’s verbal abuse with extra steps.

Toji Fushiguro:

This one hurts because Toji’s hot but this man has no money. None. Zero. If you want to date him, you better be ready to cover rent, groceries, and his “post-mission beer fund" because his entire paycheck goes toward sharpening his sword, buying protein powder, and gambling.

Let’s not forget he has a dead wife, and he went off the deep end after her death. Even if you could somehow 'fix' him like the unlicensed therapist you are because you have nothing better to do, he’s a vengeful widower who would leave you randomly for missions—and might not return because he’s driven by the insecurity of proving the Zenins wrong, which would get him killed.

Plus, he’d bring up his dead wife in every argument, saying things like, “She wasn’t this nagging; she didn’t do this or that.” People tend to glorify the dead, and he’d be the prime example of that. How could you compete with the memories of someone his mind has declared perfect?

He’s everyone's wet dream, sure, but do you really wanna date a guy who’d ghost you and leave you with his kid?

And don’t even get me started on his love language. It’s probably, “I killed a guy for you.” That’s cute until the cops show up at your door asking questions.

He might toss you a bone (not like that, calm down), but the idea of me paying for someone who might not even text me back? Pass.

Kamo Choso:

Sweetest man alive. Too pure for this world. But dating him would be like adopting a sad, traumatized puppy who cries every time you leave the room. You’d spend your entire relationship comforting him and Googling “how to help my boyfriend stop mourning his 17 dead brothers.”

He’s too busy laser-focusing on Yuji and going through an identity crisis to even think about being in a relationship. I’d want to protect him, not date him.

Also, his skincare routine is probably better than yours, which is cute until you realize you’ll never be the pretty one in the relationship.

Geto Suguru:

Ah, Babygurl Suguwu. Love him to death (pun intended), but dating him sounds like lifelong therapy.

Do you really wanna date a guy who’s juggling a cult, unresolved trauma, and genocidal tendencies?

His love language is probably “eliminating humanity,” and unless you’re down to join his pyramid scheme of sorcerer supremacy, this is not gonna work.

Also, you will forever be second place to the Gojo-fucking-Satoru.

Be serious. You will never win that chase. He'll leave you mid-sex to go see his 'one & only' babe.

Kashimo Hajime:

Kashimo would date you for the sole purpose of fighting you. He doesn’t want love; he wants violence—he’s looking for someone who can throw hands.

Imagine coming home after a 10-hour shift at work, exhausted, and this man’s standing in your living room like, “I’ve been waiting to test my new technique on you.” No, sir, I want a nap.

And don’t think you can just say no. He’d follow you to the grocery store, the dentist, your grandma’s funeral, like, “We fight now!”

Hiromi Higuruma:

Now, this man’s tempting. Responsible, classy, knows how to argue (a lawyer, duh), but... he’s also on the verge of a midlife crisis.

Do you really wanna date someone who’s one bad day away from snapping? You’d spend most of your time convincing him he’s not a terrible person, and honestly, I don’t have the emotional bandwidth for that. Therapy is expensive, and I already have PTSD from my ex.

Also, he’d probably start arguments just to win them. You think you’re ready for that kind of intellectual warfare 24*7?

Shiu Kong:

Do you like mafia drama? Because that’s what you’re signing up for. Mafia life isn’t sexy—it’s stressful.

You’d be dodging bullets, interrogating his “coworkers” about his whereabouts, and wondering if he’s about to betray you for a promotion.

Also, he's an asshole who's going to disappear after he's done with you; go see the scene before Toji died. Hard pass.

Kusakabe Atsuya:

This man is the king of doing the bare minimum. His love language is probably “napping,” and while that’s cute in theory, it’s less cute when he cancels date night because he “forgot” he had to sleep.

Honestly, he’d be a great friend, but as a partner? You’d be babysitting him.

Takuma Ino:

You wanna date Ino? Adorable. But let’s be real, you’re signing up for 24/7 unpaid emotional labor. Ino’s a golden retriever boy who desperately wants validation, and you’d basically be his therapist, hype woman, and emotional punching bag all rolled into one.

He’d shower you with attention (cute, right?) until you realize he’s also incredibly insecure and needs constant reassurance that he’s “doing a good job.” You’d be his number one fan and his HR department.

He’s not rich either. Like, at all. His idea of spoiling you would be buying you snacks from the konbini and taking you to the movies with coupons. Don’t expect luxury here—expect a man who puts in effort but forgets anniversaries because he was too busy stressing about being a sorcerer who no one takes seriously.

Would he adore you? Yes. Would you want to be adored by someone who still Googles “how to ask her out” while you’re already dating? I’ll let you decide.

Final Thots-

At the end of the day, I’d rather have my own independence than rely on someone else to “take care of me.”

I want a partner—not a sugar daddy, not a servant-master dynamic, not a walking red flag, and definitely not a paycheck.

I'd rather have a househusband who's retired and relaxed than an overworked sugar daddy—or worse, a dead one. Is that too much to ask?

Anyway, this is just my opinion!

If you love those tropes—go off; that’s totally valid. I’m not yucking anyone’s yum. We all have our preferences, and that’s what makes fandom fun.

No hate, just vibes.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. I’ll see myself out. 👋

If you still wanna fight, my comments are open, although I will reply like the guy you are fighting for.

[fantasylandloser]

Cry for Help

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

trigger warning: substance abuse/ drugs/ anxiety/ parental abuse

pt.2

You’d felt bad about avoiding Rafe. He was your bestfriend and you loved him, but sometimes he got in these terrible moods. He would be irrational and mean, sometimes violent, not towards you but inanimate objects. You’d also heard about the fights he’d been getting into all over the island.

He had been trying to get in contact with you for about two days and you had been ignoring him. As his mood swings got harder to deal with the more you worried about him, but his behavior had gotten downright dangerous and you knew you needed to protect yourself.

Today you decided you’d go talk to him finally, and ask him about it. You were nervous already knowing he wouldn’t react well however it had to be done.

“What?” He asked as opened his bedroom door, before realizing it was you. His eyes soften slightly at your flinched reaction of his gruff tone as you realize he’s already in a bad mood. 

“Hey.” You say, trying to gauge how he was feeling today. You knew it wasn’t good when he walked away, leaving the door open for you but not sparing you another glance.

“You’re not hiding from me anymore?” He asked, the sarcasm in his tone evident. You sigh at the fact that you were jumping right into it, as you walk into his room closing the door behind you.

“I wasn’t hiding from you.” You tell him, watching as he turned to look at you with a face that said he thought you were bullshitting. 

“I was taking some space because-” You start only to be interrupted by him chuckling to himself as he messes with whatever was in his bag..

“Taking some space.” He continued laughing, shaking his head to himself. Your frustration at his inability to take anything serious bubbles to the surface. You walked closer to him intending to grab the bag that he was so intrigued with and launching it across the room.

“Rafe I’m worried about y-” Your words get stuck in your throat as you notice the large amount of a white substance that you know isn’t sugar. “Rafe what the fuck?” You ask looking through the bag starting to connect the dots.

Rafe panics, yanking the bag away from you. “Don’t touch my shit.” He glares before turning away from you going to stash the bag somewhere else. 

“Why do you have all that?” Guilt crashed down on you in a second. You’d been avoiding him and he was struggling. You knew of course that Rafe did coke occasionally at parties. You even partook once before deciding it was way out of your league, but this was obviously beyond that. 

“Why do you think I have it?” He answers snarkily. He was unsure why but he felt embarrassed. If he really would have allowed himself to think about it he would have known it was because he hated disappointing you.But in front of his embarrassment just like it was in front of most of his feelings was anger. You never would have been disappointed if you just minded your business for once.

“Rafe, are you okay? You know you can talk to me?”  Sympathy? Pity. He didn’t want you pitying him.

“I’m fine.” He grunts, unwilling to face you. You’re silent for a second, but only a second before you ask another question, your voice so soft Rafe almost misses it.

“Is it the voices?” The way he says your name after you ask lets you know that you’re venturing into dangerous territory and for the first time after eleven years of friendship you don’t know what to do.

“I’m fine,” He repeats, firmer now. This time he looks at you and you finally see it. The glazed look in his eye. The way he just doesn’t look like himself anymore. 

“No you’re not.” You shake your head in disbelief, ashamed at yourself for not noticing earlier. You don’t even realize you’re pacing when Rafe sighs, throwing his head back because he knows another line of questions is coming.

“Where did you even get all that? How did you pay for it?” You knew Rafe had a few instances with his dad but you also knew whatever he did to get those drugs, he didn’t do with his money.

“A friend gave it to me, don't worry about it.” When you pinched the bridge of your nose Rafe rolled his eyes, placing a gentle arm around your shoulders. “Bug, there really isn’t anything to worry about.” He says softly and you have to hold in tears when you hear your childhood nickname. You know he’s trying to manipulate you but still you hug him back. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper. 

*******

You wanted to be swallowed up whole, with the way Rafe’s eyes were glaring into you. You’d truly never seen him so angry, especially not with you. You took as much time as you could to think it over but this was the only thing that made any sense, the only way to help him really. You knew he would hate you. You tried to prepare yourself for it but nothing ever would. 

You had told the only person Rafe truly respected. The one person he would listen to. His dad. Ward has assured you everything would be alright and that he’d get Rafe the best help he could but you didn’t know it would be like this. Ward wanted to handle this discreetly as possible, so he enlisted the help of a trusted private rehab facility that specializes in being discreet. Not only was it discreet it was far away. Very far from your understanding. 

When Rafe came home after his dad called, expecting some honorable task to help his father, and instead saw his family, his best friend and professional looking men he’d never seen before he looked at you immediately. You saw the blame, hatred and betrayal he felt and you almost wished you could take it all back, but what else could you do. Ask him nicely to stop doing coke? You didn’t know at this point.

“Rafe sit down.” Ward tells him gently. Rafe looked around cautiously, seeing if there was a way he could get out of this, but two men blocked every exit. 

“Nah.” He shook his head, feeling trapped and betrayed.

“Rafe you will not continue to embarrass me and this family! Sit down!” Ward yells and Rafe huffs an angry breath, but laughs to himself as well. 

“I’m the embarrassment? Me?” Rafe shakes his head amused at his father’s hypocrisy. 

“Yes, you! Where’d you get this from? Huh? Tell me?” Ward continues, throwing the coke on the table much to your disdain, but you weren’t surprised. You’d never much liked the way Ward talked to Rafe but for some reason he was still the only one he would listen to. 

“All I do is try to look after this family.” Rafe says calmly, rubbing his hands down his face. “I try to get Sarah away from those pogue boys. I try to help Wheezie do everything. And you? Well I do everything you ask of me. That isn’t enough for you! That’s embarrassing?” As Rafe’s tangent went on he raised his voice, towards the end getting in Ward’s face. “All of you are the embarrassment.”

Shock fills your body, when Ward slaps him. The entirety of Rafes face turned to the left and the force pushed his back slightly. This was the opposite of helping him. Your shock doesn’t get the chance to go away when Rafe punches his father. It was the first time he’d ever hit him back, this you knew for a fact. A small part of you was proud of him, but the circumstances only fueled your anxiety.

When you see Ward wipe the blood off his face. Seeming genuinely astonished that his son fought him back and going to hit him again you panicked and so did everyone else. They were in full on brawl by the time everyone else caught up. You saw a man walking towards him with a needle and the last thing you wanted was Rafe to wake up in the hospital confused and trapped.

“Rafe!” You scream, trying to get him attention, before stupidly jumping in front of one of his punches. You fully expected it to connect even if he realized it was you because he was just so angry. When it didn’t you opened your eyes to see the furious ones staring back at you. You place your hands on his neck in an attempt to ward off the man with the needle.

“I’m so sorry.” You find yourself repeating solemnly. “I’m sorry you’re struggling. I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I’m sorry about today. I just- I love you so much. I want you to get better.” 

He’s breathing heavily and you see the bruise forming on his cheek, along with the unshed tears in his eyes. 

“You are so strong. Stronger than anyone I know. You can fight this, and get the help you need.” He jerks away from you at your last words, the anger still swarming in his eyes along with something else. You almost expect him to keep fighting, but instead he just stands still. Away from you away from his dad and family. He stands still waiting for the men to take him. And they do, without him saying another word.

[greenleaf4stuff]

Of Convenience

(Adar x Celebrimbor, some hinted Annatar/Celebrimbor in the background. Celebrimbor is in Adar's camp but the uruk have not started attacking Eregion yet - he discovered Anntar's deception early and got out of the city. And straight into Adar's arms, er, camp.)

Welp, got inspired by my own "marriage of convenience/political marriage" idea and silverscars edit and wrote a short snippet. Enjoy everyone!

“Give me your city,” Adar proposed – or rather, demanded. Celebrimbor felt himself freeze up at the other’s intent gaze. “Surrender it. Put your city into my hands, and I will spare your subjects.”

Celebrimbor swallowed. He felt as if he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Every minute he hesitated, the orcs were readying their weapons and advancing on his beloved Ost-In-Edhil, bringing with them the promise of death and destruction.

And on the other hand, there was he, and the danger he posed to everything the smith loved and held dear.

But he couldn’t just lay the keys to the city at Adar’s feet, could he?

“What guarantee do I have?” Celebrimbor replied, refusing to be cowed. “That you will not just take my surrender and do with it as you please?”

Adar stepped closer towards him – the smith tried to hold himself up straight, shoulders squared back, the very picture of the lord of Eregion, but he knew his own worry and desperation must show on his face clear as day.

He swallowed as Adar came to a stop directly in front of him.

“I have a proposition,” the orc stated, as if that were an answer to Celebrimbor’s question. The smith was about to ask what one had to do with the other, but Adar continued to speak and almost made Celebrimbor choke on his own spit. “A marriage.”

The smith blinked in disbelief. He must have misheard that. “What?”

“I propose a marriage – purely political, of course,” the orc stated, and began to round Celebrimbor, like a hunter circling its prey. “It’s an unconventional but sound solution – it would guarantee both our safety, and that of our people. A foundation for a peace, if we are lucky enough.”

Celebrimbor felt blood rush in his ears and he desperately wanted to grab something to steady himself. His day had gotten progressively more strange and distressing, and the marriage proposal he’d just heard was just the cherry on top of everything; of having discovered the enemy he’d invited into his own city, fleeing it, and then landing himself in the midst of an approaching army that was set on a path of destruction.

Destruction of a mutual enemy, but at the expense of all that Celebrimbor had ever built and worked towards.

“You cannot be serious,” Celebrimbor tried to declare. To his own ears, it came out as a question instead.

“Is the thought really so absurd?” Adar asked. He had now circled behind Celebrimbor’s back, which caused the smith to shiver and look over his shoulder cautiously. The orc soon stepped into his line of sight again. He seemed more curious than intimidating, despite how he stalked around the smith. “Think it through to the end. You will find there is nothing better I can offer as reassurance. Nothing that you would believe to be true, anyways.”

The smith sucked in a breath and just about kept himself from wringing his hands. He really just wanted to be petulant, to scream and angrily throw Adar’s offer back in his face, but-

But he had to think of his people. Who were in danger from not one, but two threats at the moment. If he could take care of one for certain, and use that chance to eliminate the other as well…

There was a long sigh, and the smith visibly deflated. He hated to admit it, but the other was right. They had few options, especially since there was scarcely any trust between them.

Sure, Adar had been treating him rather well as of now, all things considered – he’d told the orcs to handle the elf with care, had given him food and water, had not even chained the smith (though that could be because he didn’t consider Celebrimbor a serious threat, the smith thought bitterly).

The...foundation was there. And the reasoning.

As if he’d heard his thoughts, Adar stepped closer to Celebrimbor. This time, his look was not one of a hunter, but one of sincerity. “I promise you, I’d not make any demands of you safe for upholding the marriage and the peace. I would not separate you from your people, I will not demand rulership over your city, and-” and he paused for additional emphasis at that point. “I will not ever force you into anything but civil, honest conversation with me.”

It was clear what he meant. It was a...strange thought. Celebrimbor had not even considered it but- well. He had to admit that aside from the company he kept, Adar was...almost beautiful. Despite the pale skin and the scars and the darkness he lived in, he cut a striking figure.

Where before, the thought had not even crossed his mind, he now found his belly quivering with it. Not in a fearful way, but instead with...intrigue?

He mentally shook himself. Gil-Galad was right, he did have terrible taste in what – who – he found desirable. (He did not think of the fiend that was hiding in his forge. He would not. He’d been tricked, deliberately tempted. It was hard to remind himself of that, but it was true.)

The smith exhaled a shaky breath. He should probably demand more time to think on this, but time was something he did not have – ironic that as an elf, he was running out of time now, he thought sardonically.

Instead, he rose up to his full height again, and faced Adar with a steady gaze. With a small start, he realized he was actually taller than the orc. (‚Uruk‘, the other had called himself, hadn’t he?)

“Promise me you will do everything in your power to protect my people. I do not care what happens to me, it is my fault this-” he stopped himself and felt his face pull into a grimace, but he pushed on. “As the lord of Eregion, I will take responsibility. Promise me you will help me fulfill my responsibility to my people, and I will...I will give myself to you. And my city into your hands, until it is freed.”

The look in Adar’s eyes was intense, as if he was trying to find any hidden loophole, any flaw, any lie in Celebrimbor’s words. After a moment that felt near suffocating, the other nodded.

“Very well. I will find someone to officiate,” he said, and made to turn to the entrance of his tent, undoubtably to give his men orders. He paused, however, and looked back at Celebrimbor.

The look in his eyes was softer than the smith had expected. “And I accept your demands. The city will be yours again, once I have rid it of our foe.”

A pause. “And while you would give yourself and your life away with no regards to your own safety, I will not demand you to do so. I will not touch you or mistreat you – you have my word.” And with that, the orc went outside as he gave orders while leaving Celebrimbor alone, his head spinning.

Why was this so important for the other?

Why did it put Celebrimbor at such ease?

And though Celebrimbor barely dared to even acknowledge it – why did the thought of Adar touching him not fill him with fear, but curiosity, instead?

[flufflights]

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 ─ by someone just like you

𝗦𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: Y/N’s life is super boring. Like, nothing ever happens. That is, until Sunghoon, the new mysterious guy, shows up at school. He’s quiet, cool, and totally out of her league, but something about him pulls her in. She’s got to know what’s up with him. Is he really as mysterious as he seems, or is there something deeper going on?

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: non-idol!Sunghoon x fem!reader

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: high school romance, strangers to ???, fluff, angst (subject changes each chapter)

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: one swear word

𝗙𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Yunjin...Le sserafim, Jake...enhypen

𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: (open - send an ask or comment to be added) @morganaawriterr @kittyyy003

𝗣𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: (open - send an ask or comment to be added) @sugarikiz @slayyuna @irasvr

𝗟𝗶𝗹𝘆'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: first chapter done!!! Enjoy reading!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?!

It was 6:30 in the morning, and Y/N’s stupid alarm clock was being so annoying. It was buzzing so loud it almost fell off her nightstand. She groaned and hit it as hard as she could. "Why does school even start this early?" she muttered, rolling out of bed like a lazy potato.

She threw on some clothes and ran outside to meet her best friend Yunjin. They always walked to school together, talking about random stuff. Today, Yunjin was already talking about lunch. "They better have spaghetti today," Yunjin said, already dreaming about it.

"Yeah, but if it’s soggy again, I’m throwing it in the trash," Y/N said.

When they got to the schoolyard, Y/N stopped walking so fast she almost made Yunjin crash into her. She saw this guy standing by the lockers. She had never seen him before, and he looked like he hated being alive. His brown hair was all messy, and he had his hands in his pockets like he didn’t care about anything. "Who is that?!" Y/N asked, pointing at him.

"Oh, that’s Sunghoon. He’s new. I think he transferred here or something. That’s all I know." Yunjin answered.

"Sunghoon? What kind of name is that?" Y/N said, still staring at him. He didn’t look like he wanted to talk to anyone.

Before she could say anything else, the bell rang. "Fuck, we’re late!" Yunjin yelled, grabbing Y/N’s arm and running toward class.

When they got to their seats, the teacher walked in and guess what? Right behind her was Sunghoon. Y/N felt her stomach drop. He looked all serious and weird, like he didn’t even want to be there. "Class, this is Sunghoon. He’s new, so be nice," the teacher said, like she said every time someone new came.

Sunghoon nodded, but he didn’t say anything. Some of the girls in class were already whispering and giggling.

"You can sit next to Y/N," the teacher said, pointing at the empty seat by her.

Y/N’s heart stopped. He walked over and sat down, but he didn’t even look at her. Not once.

Y/N tried to say something because it was so awkward. "Uh, hi. I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"Hi," he said, super quiet and not even looking at her.

That was it. One word. ONE. He didn’t even seem like he wanted to be her friend. She tried to pay attention to class, but she couldn’t stop sneaking looks at him. He just stared out the window like he was thinking about something way more important than math.

When class ended, Yunjin rushed over. "So? What’s he like? Did he talk to you?"

"No. He just said ‘hi’ and that’s it," Y/N said, rolling her eyes.

"Wow, maybe he’s, like, super shy. Or maybe he’s just one of those mysterious guys," Yunjin said.

"Yeah, mysterious or just boring," Y/N said, but she couldn’t stop looking at him as he left the room.

Before she could think too much about it, Yunjin grabbed her arm. “Come on, let’s go to lunch before the line gets too long.”

[stitchzin]

Letter from a Crow

As soon as Rook disappears, Lucanis is the one who decides to tell Viago, the word spreads as Rook's friends begin to read books on how to rescue her. Lucanis goes to Caterina, they meet at the Cassino, and says he stopped her from confessing because he didn't wanted bad luck. Now he feared he would never hear this again.

"She wanted to call me Vhenan... do you know what it means... It means, my heart."

"My poor boy..."

"Raise your head" Illario appears behind him. "You won't avange her while having it down." They were a weird family but they were there, healing some woulds.

But Viago's family was Rook and Teia. And both don't know what to do this time. One day the owner of one of the city's theaters enters the Cantori Diamond, and gives Teia a letter that looked like it had been read several times.

She said that regardless of whether Rook was found or not, Viago should read it.

Rook was unique in relation to many crows, she did not move from the main house after she started earning her money. In fact, she even has a rented room near the theater, but she only used it when she had her nights with friends. Her "real" room was positioned next to Viago's room. Every morning he opened her door and said "Those who earn money lying down are whores, get up", even if Astraea was already awake.

He drank coffee Rook drinked her chocolate, talked about various subjects, nobility and Crow gossip, new poisons and the weather. Teia adored that, It was rare that she and Rook shared the breakfast table, but it was pure entertainment to watch Rook and Viago have the same mannerisms.

Viago was training when Teia delivered the letter, the exhausted body of a man who tried to throw his emotions on anything but those around him. He had returned from a visit to Caterina, who had been through something similar. There was no way of knowing what the first Talon had advised him, but it had had an effect on him.

And reading that yellowed paper, with purple ink and a dried jasmine branch on the page made him freeze. Rook had had the courage to say what he had never said explicitly. And without her there for him to provoke, or correct.

He didn't know what to do.

The only person he wanted to talk to about his favorite's disappearance was herself. Teia and he sat on the balcony drinking wine. The balcony of Rook's room, surrounded by her things he asked the servants to keep it neat. The vases of jasmine that never died made everything smell like her. And he read it again out loud.

Nesryn,

I remember the day I arrived in Treviso, the way I followed Viago because I thought I could rob him he was covered in silver and good quality leather, only to witness a murder. I didn't even feel afraid it was so quick and ellegant. He dragged me by the ear to you, thought I was one of your children and apologized afterwards and turned his back. I think he thought my Vallaslin was a theater painting because of its unique lines.

Despite everything, the following week I followed him, he told me to mislead people and I did it, he told me to deliver messages and I went.

He would give me a candy, a bag of fruit or a silver coin. If he was having a good day, a full meal before correcting my acrobatics. Funny two weeks. But... If I hadn't stolen keys from that smuggler and entered that warehouse and freed him of that trap, he might never have taken me to Villa De Riva. If Viago had been impressed by my peculiar way of moving between the rooftops before, he didn't show it until that day, always so critical. In my 12-year-old mind he hated it, but today I know he corrects it, because he cares.

"Astraea is your name now, Sitara is dead in that desert." I didn't want to stop being Dalish, and when Viago said he would never ask for such a thing, I accepted. I think he just accepted that I would always be this slightly wild thing with blue hair.

I arrived at the Crows knowing much more about hunting and survival than murder and became my unique self, always thinking of a way out, a new trick. Even so, with all this transformation I still saw myself arriving at your house. With bruises, cuts and sore muscles. Learning to make medicines, cook with you or play one of your instruments. You asked me to leave thw Crows, and I asked where. Still you were there when I became a crow, and when I did so well at my job that I earned the family name.

I heald high for many years.

When Antaam arrived, when he caught you, I had to show my gratitude by saving you. Obviously, the Talons weren't happy, but I trusted Viago. Even though I was afraid of being abandoned again. After a lot of yelling, Viago sent me away. I knew he was risking his neck by doing this, so I obeyed. And I didn't regret saving the friends I made at the theater. Nor did I regret traveling together. We passed through villages while I hid half of my face. There I saw a different family, light conversations at the table, lessons on sewing clothes, who would wash the dishes, putting feelings into poems and songs.

It was a beautiful time. And thank you for showing me this family that was made up of our friends. It was beautiful to see worlds within the world, realities marked by a veil that separates them from the rest. Dancing gave me new ways to practice sword and dagger, so beautiful that you had me as a nighttime attraction, using a ribbon to disguise the murderous beauty of my hands.

The thing is, my world is different from yours. In my life, I learned to get up when I fall, to keep walking because no one will save you, to endure pain so that it becomes a surmountable difficulty, to feel the effects of poison before receiving the antidote and to build up resistance. It wasn't easy. But that's what my family taught me. And that's what saved me many times.

Nessie the issue is... staying with you, away from Treviso without being able to return reminded me that Viago is my family. He and I are within the same veil. And the difference between you two is brutal.

You told me that "It's possible to live even after discovering that the world has gone bad, as long as I don't allow the world's evil to seem normal."

Viago told me "We carry death in the shadows, and at the same time we look in the eyes and say: not today."

We have different lifes, different sayings to keep our heads held high in the world we live in.

Being in this family these days rekindled my light and I'm going to use it to deserve to return home. That's why I'm leaving with Varric and Harding. I promised I would only send a letter to Viago through a contact, but life is as untamed as I am.

I'll see you again in Treviso.

Love, Astraea De Riva.

[tachiharastanacc]

small black lizard fic

If somebody were to ask Gin for an example of a mafioso, she’d easily point them to Hirotsu. The elderly man had been in the mafia for longer than she’d been alive. He was both ruthless to his enemies and protective of their allies. In the six years she’d known him, he never wavered.

That wasn’t to say that he’d never failed. Hell, Gin had watched him be tossed out a window by his broken arm. She’d seen him bleeding out at the hands of that hooded Hunting Dog.

But she’d never seen him like this.

The man was hunched over his desk. His coat was gone; his usual pristine white shirt was unbuttoned and stained with coffee. Papers and files were scattered across the mahogany wood, buried beneath coffee cups and cigarette butts.

It was uncanny to see him like this. And it hurt a bit too.

“Boss asked me to talk to you.”

Despite that, her usually quiet voice was firm and clear. She’d dealt with her brother overworking himself on more than one occasion after all.

“Speak then,” he muttered, not lifting his head to look at her. “I’m busy covering for Tachihara’s slacking off.”

“That’s what Boss wanted to talk to you about.”

The assassin shoveled a pile of documents off the chair directly across from Hirotsu as she sat down.

“It’s been over two months. Boss believes it’s time to promote a new commander.”

He didn’t spare her a glance. “No.”

“Look. He was my best friend. I’m upset too. But it’s natural in our line of work. Isn’t that what you always say?”

“For the dead, perhaps. But Tachihara is not dead.”

There was a reason that Mori had tasked Gin with this conversation. Logically, he could order any one of the executives to tell him to knock it off and they would. But Gin wasn’t an idiot. She knew that doing so would push the old mafioso away further.

Afterall, how could you order someone to stop grieving the death of his son?

“Then he ran away. He was acting weirdly before his disappearance. Maybe he turn-”

“Don’t.”

Hirotsu finally looked up, a cold rage in his steel grey eyes. “Tachihara is not a traitor.”

And normally Gin would agree. Tachihara was aloof. Isolated, despite the brash persona he put on. But he cared. He would do anything for his comrades. She knew that. But…

“Tachihara is not a traitor.”

The boss smirked behind his gloved hands as he stared at the pair. “Perhaps your care for the boy has blinded you to his secrets.”

“I am not as oblivious to these alleged secrets as you claim. However, I put little value in senseless titles. Tachihara is no traitor.”

Hirotsu was perhaps the most frequent victim of the boss’ schemes. Mori clearly got a kick out of the way Hirotsu wouldn’t bat an eye at the absurd orders, such as throwing a ball in Elise’s name or painting a wall. And while Tachihara would frequently complain about the ridiculous missions, Hirotsu would smack him on the head and tell him that the boss’ orders were absolute.

Tachihara would still sulk, but he carried out his orders flawlessly without hesitation after that.

But to see Hirotsu speak back to the boss…it was clear they were discussing something Gin wasn’t privy to. And as much as she hated to admit it, she had a strong feeling that she knew what it was.

Tachihara had been paid off by the government. He’d tipped off the Hunting Dogs.

The military police had likely helped him escape. It’d be a miracle if he was even still in the country, much less the city.

And while Gin couldn’t imagine him doing such a thing, she couldn’t deny that he’d been acting odd; he was guilty and apologetic, as if he was sorry just for taking up space. It was a completely different Tachihara than the one that she knew.

“If the Port Mafia can’t find him, then maybe he doesn’t want to be found. We’re one of the largest organizations in the city. We’re already suffering losses from the attack on the airport and the vampire apocalypse.” Gin paused to rub at the fang marks on her neck. “We can’t waste any more resources on someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

If it was up to her, she would have been searching for him too. But with Ryuunosuke’s recent memory issues and the mafia’s declining numbers, that just wasn’t an option.

And though she wouldn’t admit it to the others, she was afraid of what she would find. The image of Tachihara’s corpse lying in the dirt was almost more than she could bear. His throat slit like her brother as he choked on his own blood. The light slowly leaving his eyes…

“It isn’t that simple. There are…there have been rumors. He may have been…”

“If he was taken by another organization, we would’ve heard about it. They would’ve tried to ransom him to us. Or we would have found clues.”

Or they would have found Tachihara relaxing next to a dead gang who’d thought that kidnapping a teenager was an easy way to get information.

“Not if it was someone with authority. Or somebody who could manipulate facts. Or-”

“You’re spiraling again.”

Gin whirled around towards the shadows. Not many could sneak by her, but her mentor was an exception.

The Frenchman stepped forward, giving her a respectful nod.

“Since when are you two close?”

“The boss would like to stop spending manpower looking for the dog, no?”

“The hell are you calling a dog?!”

Deep breaths.

Anger would help no one.

Gin schooled her face back into something neutral.

“Tachihara’s a person. Not a dog.”

A small smile crept across Verlaine’s face. He looked almost…proud?

“My apologies. But the point stands. The boss no longer has the resources to retrieve him. And you aren’t going to find him alone. Thus, I’m officially offering my assistance.”

In the roughly six years that she had been Verlaine’s student, she’d never heard of him leaving without the stubborn insistence of Chuuya or the violent prodding of Golden Demon.

“But…why? He might not even be alive.”

“He is. Those bastards are many things, but they’re not wasteful. I made a promise to Arthur. And to my brother. I will not stand by and allow this to happen again.”

Gin opened her mouth to protest, but Hirotsu spoke first. “Thank you. We would gladly accept your help.”

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

MY HERO!!!

Srsly tho thank you for your analysis.. idk why but I have seemingly endless energy and thoughts when it comes to reading way too far into like every throwaway line Steph says but whenever I read this comic and look at the riddles my mind just totally blanks. No fucking clue.

That being said your breakdown has definitely sparked some ideas for me!

For the first riddle, maybe it’s my uncharitable read of Arthur’s characer, but I find it unlikely he would admit in front of other criminals that he sees his daughter as something precious to him. He usually puts up a tough front. On the other hand, it’s not like The Riddler isn’t an extremely intelligent man, he could probably read in between the lines even if Arthur never said as much directly. Agreed that the gift is almost certainly Steph. Still thinking on what the ‘theft that gives’ could possibly mean and coming up blank however.

If the gift of Steph keeps ‘taking’ it might be that Arthur saw what was meant to be a ‘gift’, his child, not being a gift and instead taking away from him and inconveniencing him instead, as Spoiler. It’s possible the theft is of Arthur’s freedom?

Agreed that Arthur seems to have have a habit of abusing Steph and threatening to kill her only to do a 180 and profess how supposedly important she is to him once she’s actually dead, or when she’s not around to hear it.

For the second one, I really like your take. The fact that we’re discussing two bugs here is especially interesting/ hard to parse. I definitely agree that one of the bugs is supposed to be Stephanie. What especially interests me is the fact that the Cluemaster stopped leaving clues by the time that Steph first appears on the scene as Spoiler. Most (all?) of his post crisis crimes don’t involve him leaving clues behind. Maybe that’s the transformation?

Three is so interesting 100 percent agreed, no notes.

Judgement Day as a response to Stephanie’s question could be a call to the idea that no one knows? Much like no one can tell their fate until Judgement day occurs (which you’re not really alive for I guess as per the riddle), Nygma is trying to indicate no one but god could know why Arthur did what he did now that he’s ‘dead’, and supposably no one will ever be able to know. Maybe. Ugh, I hate riddles.

On the oxen riddle, the tiger is as effective at violence as the Oxen, if not more, to me the riddle is drawing attention to the idea that someone only sees the aspects of a person which include the things they themselves value in themselves. I don’t know how that applies but figured I’d add that on.

I’m thinking you’re probably dead on with the last one, but I simply would never have put that together on my own so thank you again.

Overall I think you’re right with the idea that The Riddler is probably not trying to answer Stephanie’s questions honestly via riddle format, and that his riddles are likely more of a response to Stephanie’s asking of her questions at all. thats one of the things I’ve been caught up on, assuming the riddlers riddles are a direct and honest response to her questions just because he seems to agrees to answer her. Honestly, that’s on me for expecting only one layer of abstraction from the guy who goes by The Riddler.

Anyways thank you for throwing your awesome interpretations into the ring so I didn’t have to try to figure these out myself. I’m not good enough at riddles for that. I’m not good at riddles at all.

I'm gonna have a go at the riddles which The Riddler throws at Stephanie Brown in Robin (1993) #113. @a-bad-case-of-the-stephs I'm hoping you can help me out, haven't actually read Robin in well over a year.

It's a gift that keeps on taking. It's a theft that keeps on giving. Having a child is the "gift" and when Arthur was imprisoned or estranged, his child was "stolen" from him. When Stephanie came into Arthur's life, he saw her as a "white elephant", but when he no longer had her, he became driven by the idea of her.

One bug is wrapped in a web, therein to die. Another bug is wrapped in its own web, there to be reborn. In a sense, being tangled in a web can be fatal but it can also indicate introspection and growth. Arthur's obsession with leaving clues were often his undoing so will Stephanie preoccupation with her father be her's or will it actually represent reflection and change?

There is a dog in the manger, but it cannot subsist on hay. A manger is a feeder for livestock, typically holding hay; which dogs do not eat. A "dog in a manger" is a person who spitefully refuses to let someone else benefit from (or let go of) something for which he or she has no personal use (dictionary.com). But dogs cannot subsist on hay and the livestock cannot eat with the dog in the manger. If the dog doesn't relent or change, then everyone loses. Stephanie is the dog and her memory of her father is the manger she cannot let go of.

What day of the week has no man ever lived to see? Judgement day. You have to be dead to see it. And they're both very much alive.

The Tiger envies the Oxen but only understands its horns. The Tiger envies the Oxen's power but it only understands power through the language of violence. Steph easily outmatches The Riddler in a fight yet is confused how he still holds all the cards although she attacks him because she only speaks the language of violence.

I am the number you cannot count on your fingers. Edit: he’s saying Steph’s missing the point; you can’t count him on your fingers, he’s not that kind of number.

Would love some input.

[see-arcane]

Open question to everyone as I continue to wrestle with being a professional starving creative. I’ve been nudged towards making a Substack a couple times now. I’m hesitant on making a new page for anything due to how little the Official Author Website seems to have mattered in the grand scheme of my teeny scribbling career, but there are a couple pros to consider. The most basic plus is that it could make for a tidier spot to leave my Big Scribbles than just piling them in a scattered Tumblr. But the key part the online 'get passive income!1!!' gurus point out about Substack is the sub(scription) bit. And how it can be a charged subscription.

“It’s an easy way for freelancers to make money!”

With at least $5 charged per month. For weekly-to-monthly updates. From me.

That means scheduled writing that's worthy of wringing more money out of the ‘Everyone is Broke’ website at least once a month. Note, I would not be pulling a Watcher; I’d still be dropping previews for my big WIPs here per usual. But a $ubstack would come with that and other original works each month. Supposing there was more than 2.5 folks out there willing to burn their bucks on that endeavor.

Anyway. Chronic indecision and fretting are attacking so I’m hot potatoing it to you:

[kacievvbbbb]

I think it’s interesting how as time goes on Zoro kind of becomes more and more like mihawk in some ways whether that’s just because if you spend time with someone for 2 years you’re bound to pick up their habits or a deliberate attempt to emulate him is a conversation for another time. And Mihawk and Zoro where already pretty similar at the start so it’s a little hard to notice now.

But yeah whether unconsciously or consciously Zoro is becoming a bit more like Mihawk and it’s interesting to think that while this means maturing in some ways (he’s swordsmanship for one but he’s also just quieter much more assured of himself) it also means deaging in some others.

Despite their significant age gap and general dispositions, when it comes down to it Zoro is just a lot more emotionally mature and developed than Mihawk is. And a big part of why is because he found something larger than himself to devote his life too, hell Mihawk himself even kind of acknowledges this when he agrees to take Zoro on as a student when Zoro begs for the sake of his captain and crew. He acknowledges that putting aside his own ego and dreams for the sake of someone else isn’t something he can do and sees it as a fault in himself and a strength in Zoro.

Mihawk may be outwardly mature and his skills defiently did not stagnant but I’d wager that Mentally Mihawk is still stuck at the same age he was when he took over the title of world’s strongest swordsman. Honestly maybe even younger. And it isn’t until training Zoro, letting Perona stay with him, for probably the first time in his life taking charge of lives outside his own did he finally unarrest his development.

If Zoro is purposely trying to emulate Hawkeyes, which it wouldn’t be a surprise if he was that’s who he’s trying to be Afterall, then it would honestly set him back emotionally because fundamentally as he is now Mihawk’s attitude doesn’t work in a crew. It’s too singular, too abrasive. And while that abrasiveness can be useful in Zoro’s role as Luffy’s first mate sometimes it makes him a little too callous a little too apathetic, like with his disregard for Luffy’s sadness over vegapunk.

But Zoro has his crew to temper that, they are honestly just too ridiculous to ever stay serious around. And try as he might to hide it Zoro is also just a silly dude who likes to be horrifically petty with his opponents. And zoro still has so much fire in him, so much he has too prove and so much he wants to protect to ever really fall into Mihawk’s apathy. Zoro has Luffy who even after they reach their dreams will probably still continue to turn the world upside down forever keeping Zoro in some kind of trouble and his life interesting.

Zoro can’t be Mihawk because even Mihawk can’t be Mihawk anymore. Being with crossguild and crossing with the Red hair pirates and the strawhats is going to change him, it has too. if Mihawk is going to live after losing his title he’s probably gonna have to become a little bit more like Zoro.

[baeshijima]

the itoshi brothers through the years ...

[cobaltfluff]

what is his deal ???

[maxellminidisc]

Saying this as an autistic poc but it always trips me up when white people try to autism their way out of racism towards hip hop and rap too. Like a lot of the supposed sounds that trigger sensory issues for white autistics who do this are in sooo many genres too; main thing being "I dont like repetitive beats and sounds" and yet literally almost every fucking song on earth has mostly beat and bass repetition through a majority of its structure as a core for key melodies to play on (and mind you those key melodies ALSO repeat). Like hip hop/rap is not unique in that respect. Perhaps ponder on that for more than a minute.

[reminiscentrainclouds]

You guys ever feel trapped? Yea I'm well-acquainted with the feeling of being trapped.

[backpackingspace]

Hey this just in? Ptsd sucks balls

[apocalypse-boogie]

I gotta be honest, I don’t engage with the Criminal Minds fandom (despite having watched all of the original show + Evolution and read up on as much of the spin-offs as I could) because I don’t like how prevalent the racism and sexism and infantilization is in the fandom. There’s just enough of all that shit upfront that I don’t want to dig any deeper than I already have. I’m good, I get enough of that shit in fandoms that I’ve been apart of for years I’m not gonna let this shit sully my love for this show anymore than it already has (especially considering the show’s writing itself is not devoid of these faults).

I’d rather just love the show and dissect it and write analysis and fanfic for it and shit on my own.

My fav characters (just cause & kind of in best to least order): Penelope Garcia (she’s literally me, I love her), Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jordan Todd, Matt Simmons, David Rossi.