#That scene means a lot to me I imagine it a lot different from canon much more violent

[cr4zy-cycl0n3]

Yo! I'm doing a Heroes of Olympus rewrite!

I'm not a huge fan of how some scenes go in canon and how the characters esp the gods are handled in Hoo, and after reading one too many rewrite/AU fics, I've decided fuck it, imma make my own.

I'm changing quite a few things, like:

- making Piper's memories not be tampered with and as a result be way closer to Leo (credit to Heroes of Juno by @queenjunothegreat for this idea!)

- MOTHERLY HERA/JUNO WHO PSEUDO-ADOPTS JASON FTW also parental Lupa but that'll be more apparent in a Jason prequel/sequel(depends on how I wanna format it) I’ll write after TLH is done

- slowburn valgrace instead of comphet jiper

- Leo and Piper QPR(+Jason when Piper stops being his #1 opp). Jasipereo ftw babyyy

- the whole series is just gonna have a good deal of focus on the Lost Trio. I'm not gonna shaft anyone ofc but my favorite punching bags characters are just gonna get extra love :3

- Jason's gonna be considerably more feral cuz CMON MAN WAS RAISED BY WOLVES(this is more prominent in the later books cuz in TLH he was alr feral, going at 2 giants with his BARE ASS HANDS)

- Jason has more bite cuz DAMMIT HE DESERVES TO BE ANGRY/BITTER AND CLAP BACK. HIS LIFE IS SHIT, LET MY BRO BE MAD

- more exploration into Jason's character cuz man was shafted so hard :(

- exploration of characters' powers in general, def buffing the Big Three kids to be as strong as Percy cuz holy cow he's OP. I love Percy and his OP-ness, but the other Big Three kids should be just as OP

- Zeus is the God of Justice, which we don't see much of in PJO's characterization of him, but Jupiter is Roman and hence is much more strict in the RRverse, so consequently I think his domain of law and order is more central to Jupiter than his greek counterpart, so I'd like to explore Jason having powers related to that and being an absolute powerhouse when it comes to debates and politics despite hating them

- characterizing the Gods differently from canon as I'm a Hellenist and writing them as they are in canon makes me like. Kinda uncomfortable. I will be using mythic literalism as that is what PJO/HoO's based on and I'm not rewriting the very foundations of the series, so they will still have committed the things they did in mythology, though I'm keeping them largely unaltered from the Og greek mythos and unsanitized as this isn't intended for a young audience like PJO is. Their behavior won't be exactly like their depictions in myths nor how they actually are irl, it's a mix of both(Ex: Zeus has still done heinous shit so he won't be as great as he is irl, but he isn't supremely petty and bitchy like he is in PJO.). This uhh. Will probably mean that PJO events would go differently which would influence HOO but if I think about that too much I'm gonna wanna do a PJO rewrite too and akbhdhd so just imagine that everything that goes on in PJO goes as canon (for now at least) for some reason or another.

- Octavian and Jason are were best friends cuz I said so. This change is inspired by To Storm and Fire(a Heroes of Olympus rewrite) which I am in LOVE with. The antagonistic side characters(like Drew and Octavian) got very little development or character exploration so l'm definitely giving them that in my rewrite!

- The Seven feel and are much closer together

- delving more into the sevens' trauma pre-camp, might also do a one/two shot for each of them. Jason’s a given cuz I’m writing a whole ass fic or even series dedicated to his past, Leo and Piper definitely, probably also Hazel and Annabeth, not sure on Percy and Frank cuz for Frank I’m def going into the trauma that comes with growing up in an Asian household but don’t have too many ideas on how to execute that, and for Percy I don’t have all that many ideas in general outside of the little we know in PJO(I used to think we knew a lot but honestly, we really don’t? Like we know Poseidon left, Sally had to work a lot, Gabe sucks, and he got kicked out of 6 six schools in 6 years and the reasons, but we don’t have any concrete details. There might be more in HoH, I haven’t read it yet so lmk if there is). Open to any ideas for this!

- camp is. Tense. It's been only a few months since the war, grief is still fresh, and Jason being tall, blonde, and blue-eyed with a scar ain't helping 💀 some people think Silena was a hero, others think she was a villain, some people sympathized with Luke, others despised him, there's a lotta differing views.

I have loads more ideas that I won't get into here cuz the post'll get way too long, but l'd love to hear what you guys think! What scenes/characterizations should I change? What topics would you like to see handled differently? What should I add? I'm open to any and all suggestions!

Currently outlining TLH, will start posting it on my ao3 once I have the first chapter and 4-5 buffer ones written so I'll prolly start posting it in a month or two? Idk, depends on my workload irl and if I get hit by writer’s block. Maybe less, maybe more, who knows. I'll be writing a bunch of shorter stories for specific moments, time between books, and namely a prequel/tih sequel focusing on Jason's past and who he was before Hera wiped his memory. Open to any suggestions for additional works too. Feel free to drop any questions and suggestions bout the rewrite here or in my ask box!

[pippin-katz]

Random Cute Moments From Dead Boy Detectives - Part 1

Episode 2: The Case of the Dandelion Shrine - Edwin writing new notes into his notebook while Charles watches.

This has to be some of the cutest shit in the entire show to be honest. I mean, just look at them. 🥺

Sorry for how poor the quality is!! I'm not good at this, and they are literally out of focus of the camera for this part, so it's like, doomed to look like shit 😭

There's lots of different interpretations of how Edwin uses his notebook, and how open/closed off he is about sharing its contents. This is mostly because there aren't many scenes of him showing other people, or someone else going through it. No one else but Charles even holds it let alone reads it. Because of this, there’s no evidence from the show itself to determine his real attitude towards other people reading his notebook. But it’s easy to draw the conclusion that Edwin is very protective and attached to the notebook, and many fanfic writers take it a step further into that to make it something that no one else is allowed to touch or look through. Full stop. He will get aggressively defensive if someone tries to. There are plenty of interpretations that are less intense than that too. There’s no wrong answer when writing fanfiction.

But regarding canon, it’s crazy how long it took me to notice, but evidently Edwin is comfortable enough to write in it while Charles hovers. He’s definitely watching what he’s writing down, evening nodding occasionally. I imagine Edwin would stick to case details and whatnot rather than personal entries, but still, the notion is there. While he might try to only show pages with case notes, there’s always a risk that he might open to the wrong page, or pause too long in between. Charles could absolutely catch a glimpse of something Edwin might have wanted to keep to himself. Given Edwin’s level of introversion, it’s probably a safe bet to say that he wouldn’t want anyone to see personal entries. I feel like it says a lot that he allows Charles to hover that close and watch him write.

I tend to agree with the headcannon that Edwin doesn’t allow people to see his notebook, but Charles is always the exception, isn’t he? 🥺

(ko-fi)

[kakusu-shipping]

Hi hi! For the ask game how about 🔪 + Pokémon, who you fighting to protect your sweetie? 😊 bonus![optional!] DO you fist fight this enemy or do you have an amazing team of pokemon who wipe their team out? 👀

I love this ask love it because at the bottom of my F/O list is a link to my Fictional Foe List, which while not as long as my F/O list is still a very important part of my self shipping.

Send me 🔪 and a fandom and I’ll tell you about my f/e (fictional enemy; character I would fight with my self-insert)

My Pokemon Black/White S/I does in fact throw hands more often than he Pokemon battles. That's probably not true actually but he does throw a lot of hands. Particularly at Ghetsis and Ghetsis' Hydreigon.

Ghetsis' Hydreigon is more for self defense, after cornering Team Plasma in Castelia for taking Bianca's Munna I'm not exactly ready to let the leader walk out without a fight. This is a mistake as Ghetsis decides to make an example out of us and sends out his Hydreigon, which doesn't just attack Pokemon, he lashes out at anything in sight. We all end up in the hospital, luckily with mostly minor fractures, though I ended up with a big gash in my shoulder from where he bit me. It wasn't a great time.

End game, final confrontation though, that's where we fight for the F/O. We beat N in the dragon fight, Ghetsis throws him down, calls him a freak without a human heart, raises a hand to strike him, and I do not hesitate to grab that old fool's arm and pull him down. I would have beat the shit out of him for it too, if not again for his Hydreigon.

Luckily my Pokemon Master's S/I does get to beat the actual shit out of Ghetsis, along side Guzma, with our fists because FUCK that old man Fuck Father or Foe there is no hesitation once Ghetsis shows his hand I am on top of him beating his face in!

There's other Pokemon character I'd like to throw hands with, Swordward and Shieldbert being first and formost, but Ghetsis is the only one I want to throw hands with to protect an F/O, particularly N who doesn't deserve such a crappy father.

I'll fist fight your shitty dad no questions asked.

[luveline]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

When someone hurts you, you and Aaron both need time to get better, and to put things right. fem, 8k

cw canon typical violence, graphic scenes and imagery of assault/battery, recovery, mentions of being sick, issues eating. established relationship, lots of angst and comfort, hotch being vulnerable, jack being sweet 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

You lay backward over the luxurious stretch of the couch and sigh as your spine gives a sharp crick. Your head feels heavy after a long shower, your arms ache from a day at work, but the feeling of soft cotton on your legs deters any moping. 

I hope these are more comfortable, his note read, a white post it note stuck to a boutique bag. You wrap an arm around your waist remembering how Aaron’s message had made you feel: spoiled, and considered. 

You’d mentioned in passing that all your pyjamas are old and rough as a consequence, thought nothing of it, and promptly forgot about the conversation entirely. 

When Aaron finally comes home tonight, you’re going to give him a proper thank you. You can imagine his reaction to such a thing, his smile as he says it’s no problem, his eyes shuttering closed as you press a kiss to his cheek. You hadn’t realised how prevalent affection would become in your life after meeting him, but everything he does inspires love. Awful, soft, marshmallowy love where he looks at you and you want to sit in his lap. 

You slide your phone up your chest lazily and click the button on the side to light the display. Aaron hasn’t claimed to know when he’ll be home tonight. All he’d said was to let yourself in. 

It’s odd but not the worst thing in the world to be alone in his apartment. There’s less and less free space each time you visit as Jack begins to outgrow his and his fathers lodgings, but there’s never a stain or bad smell, the Hotchner apartment feels homey. You’re excited whenever you’re invited to spend the night with them. 

Maybe some time soon he’ll ask you to move in, or better, to marry him. You’re not a hundred percent sure how you feel about marriage, about being someone’s wife, but there’s a great well of pleasure to be found in the idea that Aaron would want to marry you. He makes you feel loved already in a hundred different ways but the ring might be nice, like a symbol to signify how much you mean to him. 

You rest your hand across your eyes. It’s silly to think of. Sillier to want so soon. You’ve been together for just under a year, and you have no false hopes about rushing into the future, but it’s certainly a future you want with him (and with Jack, too). He’s taking things slowly for a hundred different reasons but he loves you, and gifts like your new pyjamas cement that. He really listens to you. 

Your phone rings a moment later. 

You smile at the screen. It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves you too. 

“Hey,” Aaron says when you answer, his voice warm even through the phone, “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“How come?” You sit up with a little start. 

“It’s getting late, honey. I called Jess and Jack was already gone.” He doesn’t say anything further. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I wanted to hear your voice, I think.” 

“Well, where are you?” You struggle to envision him speaking saccharinely like this where his colleagues could hear him. He’s nice to you often, but he’s a reserved man. 

“I’m just,” —a crunching sound of metal, the trunk of his car closing— “about to get in the car. I’ll be home before ten. Can I have you until then?” 

“I don’t see any reason to say no. But do you think you could come home a little faster? I have a crick in my neck.” 

“And you want me to fix that?” 

“You always fix my neck.” 

“How have you done it?” There’s a sound you assume to be the car door closing, but you can’t hear anything beyond that. 

“I have bad posture.” 

“You have perfect posture.” 

“No, it’s quite bad.”

He laughs loudly. It took some time to draw the humour from him but he isn’t as stony as you’d think, and for a while he didn’t have much worth laughing for, anyways. Whenever you hear it, you try to prompt it twice. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Aaron, it’s just like when you said my weird rash wasn’t weird.” 

He laughs again, to your pleasure. “It wasn’t weird, it was a heat rash, I promise. You act like you’ve never seen heat rash.” 

“One of us goes to hot cities all the time and one of us lives permanently in Virginia.” 

“What are you talking about? Virginia’s far from cold. You’re being argumentative, I can see your smile in my head. I’m never going to fix your crick if you keep acting like that.” 

“No, don’t be like that,” you laugh, tipping back into the cushions. “You’re always such a sore loser.” 

“What did I lose?” 

You can tell from his tone that you’ve promised yourself one of those hugs that borders on a straight jacket tightness, his face tucked into your neck as he asks you to repeat yourself. What did I lose? he’ll ask again, kissing your chin, the line of your jaw. Tell me clearly.  

“It hurts,” you say honestly, “please don’t be mad. I really need one.” 

“I’m not mad… I’m going under the overpass, my signal might cut out.” 

“Okie dokie. Hey, did you eat? I can make you something for when you get home. I got groceries.” 

“I’m not hungry, but you can make yourself hot cocoa, and I’ll drink it when I get there,” he says. 

“Or I could make us both some?” 

“It’s much more fun if I drink yours before you can, honey. You know that—”

You pause in the quiet, then hear a quick beeping. You pull your phone from your ear and find the call disconnected. 

Cruel overpass, you think. 

Sure he’ll call you back, you take your phone into his kitchen and set about finding all the things you’ll need for hot cocoa. One mug, because you should hate when he forces you to share, but you love the feeling of his fingers on yours as he takes it and the thankful kiss he dots on your cheek. 

The kettle is uncomplicated. You toy with the stovetop, set the kettle on the burner, and let the temperature rise. It begins whistling lightly a mere thirty seconds later. 

You click your phone on again. He’ll have passed through the tunnel now and will be calling you back any minute. You stare at the phone, hoping to summon him, slouched over the counter with the tin of cocoa powder by your fingers. The kettle whines with growing heat, but cool air kisses your back. 

Goosebumps rise. Up and down the lengths of your arms, the back of your neck—

A sudden chill. 

The lack of air comes before the hand, the pain a rush, a burst to be away from. Leather on your neck creaking without sympathy as a hand tightens and drags your body back against something hard. 

Not Aaron. Your scream comes strangled under cruel fingers as you fight to move forward again, straight for the burner, the kettle shoved across the burner grate and exploding with scalding water, heat of the burner kissing your chest— you scream, only it’s worse than a scream, sound from the deepest part of you forcing itself past the heat at your neck as you try to fling yourself away from the pain. 

You fall with a hard clout. “Stay still!” comes out enraged against the back of your neck. You drop to your knees, the pain lighting flaring up your chest, your gaze frantic as you search for a flame that isn’t there. You’re not on fire, you’re crawling and then scampering up into a standing position when the heavy weight drops itself on you again and smashes your face into the floor. 

All your fight leaves you. Your ears ring. Your panic wanes but the pain stays alert in your mouth. 

A hand grabs you by the back of the head and drives your face into the ground. It’s like light in your eyes and your nose, the brunt of it, the crack of your bone and the hot trickle of blood that swiftly follows. You gurgle in pain, spluttering and gagging against the linoleum, waiting for Aaron to turn you over and say sorry. It’s an accident.

Blood drains from your nose in spurts to match your racing pulse, so much blood you can see your eyes reflected in the dark stretch of it. Water drips down the front of the stove, your breath aches and begs, and your attacker takes a measured breath. 

He flips you over. You can’t slide away, there’s nothing left in you, your head a second body as he raises something. 

Your phone rings on the counter. 

“Please, don’t,” you plead with a sob.

You pass out as the pain connects. Just as quickly as it started, your body takes the reins. 

—

There’s a strange darkness waiting for you. Like waking before your alarm and stealing those last minutes, body aching, not wanting to get up and face the day. Aaron gets up early every morning, sometimes as early as four AM, and whenever you get up with him your eyes hurt for hours. 

Nothing, nothing, nothing. 

Hey, hey, I think your boyfriend’s coming.

What will he make of my handiwork?

You didn’t stay awake long enough for that one, did you? But you’re waking up now.

The pain is enough to wake you up again, a hot drag down the side of you to your hip and in. You aren’t aware of the sounds you make, but you can hear them. Your panicked squealing as the heat presses further and further in. Your crying, and your whispering, “Stop, stop.” 

“There’s handsome,” the dark voice says. “I’ve gotta go hide somewhere, does he carry after hours? I think I’ll find out.” 

“Oh,” you say, feeling sickly. You attempt to curl into yourself, when did you turn onto your back? “No,” you mumble, lips wet with something hot. 

“Honey?” a voice asks. 

“Honey,” you repeat, woozy again, darkness falling in all over again, where it stays. 

Honey, are you in here?

—

The window behind Aaron’s shoulder is cold. Rain patters fast like floods, thunder occasionally chewing through clouds, and Jack Hotchner cries sluggish tears into his dad’s shoulder. 

Aaron has his eyes closed. They’ve been at this for a while. “Shh, shh shh, buddy,” he says softly, patting the bottom of Jack’s back. He’d sway him back and forth if his arms weren’t about to fall off. 

Jack squirms closer, no room left between them. 

“I know it’s scary,” Aaron says. 

Jack just cries. This approach of quiet support isn’t working; Jack isn’t a baby that needs to be put to sleep, he’s a panicking little kid, and Aaron needs to change gears. He ushers him away from his chest and crosses his arm behind Jack’s back. Careful, he shifts Jack’s weight to free his other arm and brings his fingers up to the silky brown hair dropping onto Jack’s forehead. 

“She’s okay,” Aaron says, stroking Jack’s hair. His little forehead is clammy. “She’s not hurting. I know it looks scary, honey, but… she’s just resting.” 

Jack looks him in the eyes. “Her face.” 

“I know.” He nods emphatically. “It’s hard to see. Blood isn’t nice. You don’t have to see her again today, not if it’s too scary.” 

Jack lifts a hand to Aaron’s face. Clumsy but with clear attempts to be careful, he wipes at the skin under Aaron’s eye. Aaron bites back a smile. 

“I look tired,” he says. 

“Yeah.” Jack brings his hand back to wipe his eyes. He sobs as he does it. Aaron can’t describe the ache it gives him to see it. 

“Buddy, I’ll do it. Let me wipe your face. I can do it.” 

Jack drops his hands. Aaron turns his hand and wipes the smudge of Jack’s tears from hot cheeks, testing the waters with a little smile. 

“I couldn’t see you under all those tears.” 

Jack does a little smile back. “Yes you can.” 

“I couldn’t! But now I’ve wiped all your face I can see you again. You’re handsome, did we know that?” 

Jack giggles. He sniffles, and he presses his palm to Aaron’s neck. “I don’t want her to be sad, dad.” 

“She’s going to be sad, because something scary happened, but it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of her.” 

Aaron would offer to take him home, but they can’t go home. They may not go home for a long time —the team is still trying to work out how someone made it into the apartment without alerting the building’s security or Aaron’s internal system. And then escaped again without Aaron’s notice. Until then, Aaron has to make a decision about a safe house, for himself, Jack, and Jess, though she's extremely unreceptive to the idea. 

Aaron has to look after Jack, and he needs to take care of you. 

“What do you think, bud?” he asks, cupping Jack’s head in his hand. “Do you want to go home?” 

“You said I can give her a hug.” 

“If it’s too scary, we don’t have to. I don’t want you to get upset again.” 

“I’m not scared. I want to give her the hug,” he says. 

Aaron pulls him in for a hug of his own. “Okay, buddy. Just try to think of it like this. She’s where she needs to be to get better. Everybody here is looking after her. She’ll be okay soon.” 

Aaron looks over Jack’s head down the hospital hallway. It’s a quiet ward, and here between the main ward doors and the hallway that leads down to the individual rooms there’s complete silence. Night is approaching quickly again, and with it comes Aaron’s panic. Your head turned into a puddle, your face lax of expression in the dark. He can’t stop finding the women he loves bloody and on their backs. 

“Ready?” he murmurs. “Can you walk with me? My arms are tired.”

“Yeah.” 

Aaron puts Jack down gently onto his feet. He neatens his hair, chucking him under the chin as he goes to see his smile. He’s so pretty, like Haley was, with shiny eyes. He’s a beautiful kid. Aaron takes his hand and together they make their way down the hallway to your room. 

You’re sleeping. 

Aaron herds Jack through the door and to the plastic covered chair by your side, where he lifts him up and sits him down. He stays between you both. Jack isn’t scared of you, just the blood, but he wants to show Jack that he’s going to protect him from anything he needs protecting from. He also desperately wants to touch you, and reassure himself that you’re still breathing. 

He looks for your hand. Your pinky finger is splinted, but he can take it with care, give the palm of it a squeeze. 

The blood matted in your hair has finally been washed away after a turbulent day, as well as the staining that marred your face. Your nose is broken, and looks it, the bruises so fierce your eyes have turned puffy and your top lip has inflamed. There are second degree burns in multiple places but most affectedly on your chest. There’s a stab wound at your hip, allegedly done with a small blade. It nicked your small intestine. The bandages laid over you are a lump under your hospital gown. 

Aaron looks at you, and he feels a passionate disdain for himself. He wishes he could… be someone else. Someone who doesn’t have such a deep connection to a job that hurts the people around him, over and over. Haley used to say he was obsessed with being the hero, but this doesn’t feel heroic. 

“Do you wanna give her your cuddle?” he asks softly. 

Jack stays sitting. 

He’ll have to give it to you himself. Careful, Aaron leans down over your prone body and presses a half kiss to your ear, the only place that won’t hurt. 

You have an IV drip going into your arm, painkillers, an ECG monitor to the left. The room is white but busy, you’re a burst of colour against it all, your cuts and bruises, the evidence of violence he can’t remove. Aaron’s tired. He perches on the gap of bed by your leg and holds your hand, turning to Jack, who watches with a frown. 

“She’s sleeping,” Aaron says. 

“When can she come home?” 

“In a few days.” He feels the pad of your hand, terrified of your broken finger but needing to hold a part of you. 

“Why is she sleeping all day?” 

Traumatic experiences are exhausting. “I think she might want to be alone, so she sleeps.” 

“Should we go?” 

Aaron shakes his head. “I think we should stay. When she wakes up again she’ll be happy to see us, because we’re not strangers.” 

“We’re family,” Jack says. He’d liked that, when the nurse asked you how Aaron was related to you. Family only.

“We’re her family,” Aaron agrees. 

If he somehow miraculously fell out of love with you, you’d still be family to them. You’ve given so much of your heart since you met them. Aaron wants everything you have to give. 

You wake in a slow, slow upheaval. It takes effort on your part, the opening of sore eyes, the dreary decision to face your pain. Your hand jumps in his but relaxes when he shushes you, your slimmer fingers stilling under his rubbing thumb. For a split second, you keep your gaze half-lidded, jaw soft, like you’ve been indulging in a stolen nap. 

Then your breath catches and you screw your eyes tightly. 

“You’re okay,” he says, quietly, and not as lightly as he means to, “you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” in quick succession. 

“Hurts,” you say, and gasp, a whine stuck in your throat. 

He doesn’t know what to do. Jack shouldn’t watch this but he can’t leave you alone. “It’s okay,” he says, holding your wrist to stop it climbing up your bruised face. 

You were worse the first time you woke up. Catatonic, then sobbing. You mumble and whimper now, pain threading goosebumps down your arms. 

“It hurts too much,” you say. A sob falls out of you like you’ve been ripped open. 

Aaron doesn’t think, but an instinct sparks. The pain, to hit you right out of the gate like this, to make you say something like that when you’ve always always made your problems small, must be torture. It must feel new and sudden all over again. 

Aaron checks that Jack is alright and leaves the room. He looks down one hallway and then the other, but there’s no nurse around —he races to the reception desk and begs the two nurses there for help with you, “She’s in intense pain,” he says, grasping the desk. 

The nurse he’s more familiar with clears her throat. “Mr. Hotchner, she’s already had enough motrin for two people at your request, she really shouldn’t need–”

“Pain is just as important to treat as the injury.” 

A second nurse puts her salad down with raised brows. “Do you want to overdose her?” 

“Excuse me?” 

Aaron has always seen himself as a gentleman, but the argument that ensues is tricky to navigate while remaining respectful, and he’s no closer to better treatment for you by the end of it. He gives each nurse a disapproving glower and takes his phone from his pocket, turning on the spot, ready to call whoever it is he needs to call for a second opinion. He’s not gonna listen to you cry when there’s no need. 

He pushes the door open with the phone still clutched in his other hand. Jack’s climbed onto your bed. He cuddles your face, sitting by your pillows and bent over you protectively. 

Aaron lets out a breath. 

“It’s okay,” he says, his arm behind your head and his arm on your shoulder. “W’gonna take care of you.” 

“I know,” you say, crying without sound, shaking under his arms.

His cheek smushes against your forehead. Your eyes are closed and your face braced for contact Jack doesn’t make, careful not to hurt you as he rubs his cheek into your skin. Your blankets are falling off of you from the squirming and your bruises shine with tears in the light, but Jack has calmed you down some. 

Aaron shouldn’t have left Jack with you. He’s been so scatterbrained since he found you when he should be the opposite, but Jack is doing better than Aaron managed alone. 

“I’m sorry for crying,” you say slowly. “I’m hurting, but it’s not bad. I’m okay.” 

“That’s good. You have a big scratch on your face, and bruises.” 

“I know.” 

“Dad says you have a bruise on your tummy too.” 

“I got lots of bruises, but it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” You bring your hand up injured and uncaring to rub his leg. “You’re being a really brave boy, thank you.” 

A tear rolls down your cheek. 

“It’s teamwork,” Jack says. “I hug you and you hug me.” 

“Is that what you want? You want a hug?” 

“I want to go home,” he says, hugging you harder. 

You grasp his arm loosely where it’s just under your chin. “Jack, can you move your arm?” you whisper. 

Your breath comes quickly, but Jack moves his arm away from your bruised neck and you try to calm yourself down. 

Aaron jolts himself back into action. “Sweetheart,” he says, rushing to sit Jack back and give you more space. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

He watches. Not sure what to say. Not sure saying anything is wise. You squint at him through your lashes, eyes opening slowly, your mouth a line pressed hard to stop from crying. 

“I think it's time for Jack to go home,” he suggests gently. 

“Yeah,” you say, eyes swimming with tears. 

“No.” Jack squeezes your head again, to your panic. 

“Jack, buddy, please don’t touch her neck,” Aaron says, grabbing Jack from your pillow. 

He erupts into tears again. Frantic and vying for you, Aaron tries to calm him and he kicks against his chest, tears turning to disgruntled sobs at not getting what he wants. You wince, pressing your face completely into the pillow. 

Aaron carries Jack from your room, phone in hand. 

—

Is she breathing? Can she talk? 

I don’t– I don’t know, I don’t– She’s breathing. Honey, can you hear me? I don’t know what to stop. I don’t know where it’s all coming from. 

Where’s the worst of the blood? 

It’s everywhere. 

Abdominal? Chest? 

I can’t tell. I can’t tell. 

Mr. Hotchner, you can’t panic. Does she have a chest wound?

Yes. Yes, but– 

Is she conscious? How’s her pulse? Be ready to start chest compressions. 

Honey, can you hear me? 

Your name said clearly. 

“Hey, can you hear me?” 

“Yes,” you murmur. 

“If you need a minute, that’s okay.” 

You cover your mouth with your hand. Emily Prentiss has a soft voice like your boyfriend’s when she wants to have it. She’s never spoken to you like this, none of his colleagues have, but since the incident, everybody treats you like you’re made of glass. 

Cognitive interviews are meant to happen immediately after an accident, but you weren’t up for company. Aaron promised this would be on your terms, that Emily is the most practised, and that she’s reaped the most information from them than the rest of the team. So far, it’s worked to drag bad memories to the surface. 

“Maybe we should start from the beginning.” 

There isn’t a beginning. There’s just conversation. Aaron’s hand on your heart and his shaky voice, so unlike him.

“Okay.” 

Emily reaches for your hand. She smiles, and her nice features get nicer. That’s another thing they all share, good looks. “Okay. What did you notice, in the kitchen? It’ll help if you close your eyes,” she reminds you. 

You close your eyes. 

“What stuck out?” 

“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’ve been in there lots of times, and nothing ever changes.” 

“Nothing? Not even the drawings on the fridge?” 

“Jack’s particular about his best work, even if I think they should all be on display.” 

Emily’s voice turns to a shard of itself. “What did you do? Can you take me through it step by step? Make yourself a cup of hot chocolate.” 

“I never got that far.”

“What did you do?” 

“I filled the kettle.” 

“What kettle?” 

You don’t understand the need for specificity, but you answer. “Aaron got it for me, when he… he told me he loved me, and when we got home he’d bought me a kettle and a bunch of stuff to make my being there easier. The kettle, because… he said something about superheated water. How the microwave can be dangerous, and this would be easier than a pan.” 

“Alright. Okay, and what did you do after that?” 

“I put the kettle on the stove.” You lit the burner, and heat kissed your palm, and suddenly the room had felt cold. “I got goosebumps.” 

“When?” 

“The kettle started to whistle, and it was cold.”

“And then–”

“Then he grabbed me.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says softly. 

You touch your nose. “I tried… He didn’t feel like a person. He didn’t feel like someone I was fighting, it was just painful.” 

“Like he was quick on his feet?” 

“He was silent. I didn’t hear him until I made him fall.” 

“How big did he feel?” 

Your stomach churns. Big. He’d felt big. 

Where’s the worst of the blood?

“He said he was going to hide,” you remember. 

“He said that? He said ‘hide’?

“Yeah. And he asked me if Aaron carries after hours.” 

“When was this?” 

It’s a headache. You try to remember more, because that’s what they need right now. If you ever want to go home, if you want Jack to go home, you need to remember more. The BAU are good, but nobody can make a map out of slivers. 

“That was at the end,” you say. 

“After he stabbed you?” 

You wince. “Yes. After.” 

“You’re doing so good,” she praises, “I just want to fill in the gaps.” 

“I can’t remember. I was unconscious.” 

“When Hotch found you?” 

“No, before.”

“Before?” she asks. 

You’re sick of sitting there with your eyes closed. Sick of your hands shaking with nowhere to hide them, and sick of feeling sick, your nausea as present as the stinging pain of your burned wrist against your sleeve each time you move. 

You open your eyes and look around the conference room for something interesting. How nice would it be to think of something else for a few minutes?

“He called it handiwork when he cut me. Asked if I thought Aaron would like it,” you say, bordering monotonous as your gaze fizzles, unfocused, across the room. 

“Okay, Y/N. Okay. I know you’re tired.” She reaches for your hands to squeeze at the same time. “You did really well. Any details at all are details we can use to find him.” 

You’re not in the mood for talking anymore. Tears burn your eyes, waiting for a blink to set them loose. 

“I want to see Aaron,” you confess quietly. 

“I’ll find him for you.” Emily stands but bends, the dark of her hair a contrast to her pale face. She’s lovely, and her hand is gentle on yours. “Are you okay? Can I get you something to eat?” 

So Aaron’s not keeping that to himself. “I want to see him, please.” 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

This is a horrible room. It’s not their fault, but the big white board is tacked with bad photos of grisly cases —currently your own. You stare at a photograph of your blood in the kitchen and don’t know what to do. Should you look away? You hadn’t realised you bled so much. 

You turn your chair toward the door. Emily looks back as she leaves and smiles at you softly, but your eyes are already moving to the smaller dry erase board by the doorway. It’s ‘Hotch’s turn to clean up on Thursdays. How strange that they make the boss clean the conference room. 

You can picture him picking up coffee cups and wiping down the table. You can always picture Aaron. 

You can see him hovering over you, his hand pressed to the bloody mess of your hip to stop the blood. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, wanting to break from the memory, following Aaron’s example. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” You repeat it into your hands, head tilting down. You sink until your knuckles touch your knees. 

That’s all he says when you panic. He’ll say it over and over again until you can breathe right. I have you, I have you, you’re okay. 

He’s much quieter this time. You hear his footsteps, his familiar gait, your head pounding too hard to move. Aaron makes a sound between a sigh and a hum, like he’s saying a sorry hello as he kneels in front of you. His hand takes your face, rubs softly over your ear. 

“My head’s just hurting,” you murmur. 

He doesn’t respond. You sit together for some time as your mind races with bad memories, your fear a rush of goosebumps down the lengths of your arms and thighs. It’s hard not to think about what happened, mostly because you’re still a walking bruise, your stitches sting when you move, the blisters on your chest ache, all of it inescapable. But it’s your anxiety that plagues you most. You’re in a constant state of dread. 

You had no idea someone could hurt you as badly as they had until it happened, and now you’re desperate not to be hurt again. 

“You have to look after me,” you say eventually, throat sore with how awful it feels to say. 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Please don’t let me get hurt again.” 

Total silence. You sniffle at his lack of an answer, only slightly comforted by his hands at your wrists now, pulling them from your face. “Let’s sit up,” he says, standing himself. “Come on, let’s sit up. You shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on your abdomen.” 

You lean back and everything aches like a stretch after a long run or a bad night’s sleep. 

Aaron pulls a chair next to yours. When he sits, your knees are pressed in between one another’s thighs, so close he could hug you. You might need one.  He’s given you a ridiculous amount of them each day, some for him and some for you. 

He has with him a takeout box and a bottle of water. 

“Here,” he says, popping the seal of the drink. “Three sips.” 

You feel like crying, but you drink. He opens the takeout box to reveal a normal looking sandwich already cut into two halves, but he takes a plastic knife from his pocket, peels away the wrapping, and cuts the sandwich again into quarters. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” you say. 

“No, you’re not. You won’t be.” He presses the sandwich flat with his hands and holds it to you until you take it. “Please, Y/N. You only have to eat what you can.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

“Please.” 

“Did Emily tell you about my interview?” 

He reaches for your thigh. Mildly unlike him when you aren’t at home. You assume it to be a tether for your sake. “No. Is there something you think I should know?” 

“I don’t want to say it again.” 

“Then you don’t have to. Someone will tell me when I get back.” 

You pinch the fluffy bread in your hands, eyeing wearily at the wet insides. “Can I come with you?” 

“You’re having trouble in the cognitive interviews, you won’t want to hear what we have to say.” 

You split the sandwich in half again, watching as salad and mayonnaise ooze from the bread. 

“If you don’t eat, you won’t get better,” he says, a touch stern. 

“I can’t eat when you won’t let me come with you.” 

“I’m not the only person capable of protecting you. I…” He circles your wrist before you can make a mess. “Can you please eat it?” 

You take a bite to appease him, your stomach roiling, food wet and cold on your tongue. You eat the whole quarter queasily, a lump at the back of your throat begging you to stop. 

Aaron takes an empty hand and rubs it tenderly. “Thank you,” he says, that rubbing turned more forceful, his hand journeying to your elbow and back again. 

It’s sweet how attuned he is to your needing his touch, but mortifying. This entire experience had been embarrassing from start to end. Couldn’t defend yourself, can’t get to grips with it, and can’t keep anything down. Aaron looks at you and your bruises and you wonder if he’s seeing you with blood matted in your hair, or hearing you beg for him to get you something stronger. All you’d wanted was a sedative. 

“I’m far from the only person capable of protecting you,” he says. 

“You saved me,” you say. You mean it in every sense of the world. 

“…This is my fault.” 

“I want to be with you,” you say honestly. “I don’t feel okay by myself right now, I just need you, or I feel so sick I wish that I died.” The anxiety is marrow deep. 

Aaron looks gutted. “Don’t say that.” His hand goes back to yours, back to tenderness. “I know you're scared.” 

“Then why won’t you listen?” you ask weakly. 

“I’m listening to you,” he says, his tone a dulcet, pleasing softness you’ve never ever heard before, “I need you to be safe, and I need Jack to be safe, and I can’t do that while he’s still out there.” His brows pinch together, agonised. “I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t protect you. But I won’t let anything happen to you again.

“I love you. Please believe that I’m doing what’s best for you right now.” 

You turn your head away. He cups your cheek regardless. 

“I love you,” he says again. 

“I know.” 

“No, I love you.” 

He’s saying sorry.

“I love you,” you mumble back. 

“How are you feeling? Is anything hurting more? Weeping?” 

Your eyes are heavy at his touch. “You only looked at me a couple of hours ago.” 

“Alright. Can I kiss you? I need to go.” 

You don’t answer. Aaron kisses your chin, your jawline, the type of roving, teasing kisses he’d give as he squeezed your sides, only he doesn’t squeeze you, he can’t without hurting you. His hand hesitates just above your deepest wound. 

His bright kiss works to spark a modicum of life back into you. Not a lot, but enough. It was likely his intention, some quick prodding kisses to remind you of something happy between you both. 

You curl your fingers over his hand and turn your face for a chaste peck. He smiles, the curve of his lips evident and relieving against yours. 

“Someone will take you back to the safe house, okay? Give Jack a kiss for me,” he says. 

You nod. Aaron strokes your cheek. 

—

Your assailant could have killed you while you were vulnerable, but he didn’t. “He assumes he’ll have another chance,” Emily surmises. 

“That’s cocky,” JJ mutters. 

“It’s telling,” Aaron says. “But he won’t.” 

The coaching has been extensive. You, sick, a breath from tears and hurting, your shoulders in his hands and his grip too tight. If someone tells you I’m dead, you wait. If Morgan tells you I’m dead, you ask Rossi. If he says I’m dead, you ask Emily. You can’t believe the first thing someone says. No one is going to move you from this safe house to another without seeing me first. If I do get hurt, you and Jack will be moved separately. You will always get my confirmation before you’re moved. 

I’m not gullible, you’d said, wincing at his sharp tone. 

It’s not about that. People will lie, and they will lie well. They will talk their way into the house if you let them. You can’t let them. 

I won’t. 

He’s racing against a countdown, because no matter what he says, what you know, or how many agents wait outside your house, sometimes it’s a force of will. 

Foyet didn’t need much more than that. 

He admittedly feels on surer footing knowing where you are. The decision to guard you without putting you in WITSEC is aching and scary but better, too. He knows where you are. He can be there in ten minutes. No guessing games, but no hiding for you either. 

Your dread is taking over everything you do. Today’s the first day since you came home almost two weeks ago that you could function without a live-in nurse or Jess there to look after Jack, and already he’s worried, because he’d convinced you total honesty was what’s best for the both of you, and so your texts are candid. 

One an hour for his sake, more if you're up to it.

Threw up my beta blockers. Jack misses you, he wants to make you a Lego boat and fishing rod, but I’m not sure how to do it. Please make sure you eat dinner. 

Your next message makes him smile, thankfully. I’m kidding about the dinner thing. Ha. I had one of those gels you got for me, and Jack wants fries, so I’m making waffle fries. 

He texts back quickly. Eat dinner. Please tell Jack I miss him too, and don’t worry about the boat, he’ll work it out. Then, feeling awful, he adds, I love you

Aaron should go home. He’d feel better if he knew he was there to help you keep your medication down, but if he leaves… He knows his team will give you everything they have, but he has more. He can fix this. 

He can’t fix this, god, his head hurts badly. You’re covered in cuts and bruises and burns and he thinks he can make up for that? You’ve been brutalised. Aaron can’t believe this is happening again. 

He rubs his brow. 

“You okay?” Emily asks. 

When he looks up, JJ is gone. 

“I’m fine.” 

“It’s okay if you’re not.” 

He’s not fine, but he knows what she’s asking. “I’m okay enough to do this,” he says. 

It’s hard not to confuse you with memory, your hurting similar to his own, your situation one that he’s already lived. Haley will haunt him for life. It doesn’t usually feel as punishing as he fears he deserves: he gets to remember the best parts of her everyday. He sees her in Jack all the time. He sees her in you, occasionally —you’ll touch his hair or rub his arm like she would’ve done, and it doesn’t make him miss her any more than he does, he’s not in the business of wishing you weren’t yourself, he loves you, but he remembers her. Aaron remembers how he failed her every day. 

He can’t fail you, too. 

“Is it ever easy?” Emily asks. 

Aaron looks around for a bottle of water. “Is what?” 

“Being in love.” 

He thinks about it. “I must make it look hard.” 

She laughs softly. “Sometimes, yeah.” 

Maybe that’s not fair, then, to you. For him to make it seem difficult to love you. To fail to correct Emily when she asks. 

He chooses his words carefully. “Loving her is the easiest thing in the world. But… I continue to work a job I know makes me hard to love in return.” And that puts you in danger. 

It doesn’t feel wrong to be sincere. Perhaps it’s easier with Emily. She saw so much of him during Foyet, and she’s family, truly. He can tell her how intense it’s felt. 

“Well, it doesn’t seem hard for her,” Emily says. 

He shakes his head. 

She continues regardless, “Even during her cognitive, she mentioned the first time you told her you loved her. When it was over she wanted to see you over anything else.” 

But I put her here, he wants to say. Or doesn’t want to say at all, but instead knows with surety. 

“She can’t eat if I’m not home,” he says. What a thing to do to someone. “It’s my fault.” 

Emily smiles, hair slipping off of her shoulder as her expression turns to playfulness. “I think you’re seeing it all wrong. Something bad happened to her, and you’re so safe to her that you make it better when you’re with her. That’s not fault, Hotch. Just love.” 

He turns his attention back to the board without another word. 

—

When the day comes, when they find the man who hurt you, you’re sitting at home with Jack Hotchner in your lap. You’re laughing at his laughing, cartoon fish on the TV, and Aaron’s got a gun in his hand fifty miles away. You both giggle, nearly in hysterics as the safe house living room glows pink and red, Jack’s favourite character swimming hurriedly across the screen, as Aaron negotiates the arrest. 

Usually capable of mediation, Aaron finds his patience completely unravelled. He offers the UnSub two choices: he surrenders now, immediately, and he keeps his life, or he deliberates and Aaron kills him. 

He has reason to believe the UnSub will try again, of course. Will keep hurting you until it sticks. 

He goes home satisfied.

“Dad’s home!” you say excitedly, your movie long finished, your thighs numb and stitches stinging where Jack has leaned against you. You encourage him off of you as the front door closes, the cold air from outside rushing in. 

“Honey?” Aaron calls. 

“Yeah!” You stumble into a standing position, sure you look about as disgusting as you have since the situation began, promptly sitting back down as head rush hits. 

Jack races for the door, meeting Aaron in the hallway with a whoosh. “Hey!” 

“Hi, buddy, what are you doing?” 

“We watched Finding Nemo,” Jack says, “and now I’m hugging you, duh.” 

“Duh. Well, I need to talk to Y/N for five minutes. Can you wash your hands for dinner?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“I’m fine.”

You hear the sound of a light kiss, and then Jack rockets across the hallway and up the stairs. Aaron walks into the doorway, tie still knotted but with no suit jacket, and you know what he’s going to say before he says it. He wears a strange expression.

“You got him?” you ask. 

He puts a white bag on the coffee table, looking down at you fondly. “I got him.” 

“How did you find him?” 

He crouches down in front of you. He’s so careful to be harmless to you now, so tentative. “You’re not the only woman he hurt. We dealt with him in the past. From the information you gave Emily during your interview, and the information he left behind, we found him… If you weren’t as brave as you are, I couldn’t have kept you and Jack safe.” He holds your knee. “Thank you.” 

You stare at him. Staring, wondering what he means. “Brave?” 

“Brave.” 

“I’m a coward.” 

He shakes his head. “No. You’re not.” 

All you've done for days is cry and throw up and bleed, literally. You’ve ruined clothes and sheets, thrown up in his lap, terrified and aching. Each time was met with the same gentleness. A kiss on the cheek, or a hand rubbing your back. Is that bravery? You feel like a baby. 

Aaron’s brow is relaxed. He takes your two legs into his hands, and he looks at you with a reverence that leaves you breathless. 

“You’re hurt forever because of me,” he says quietly, you strain to hear him, “because of who I am, and what I choose to be.” 

“How can you say that? It’s not your fault.” 

“It wouldn’t have happened to you if I hadn’t missed his MO the first time.” 

“You’re not putting the knife in anyone’s hand,” you argue. 

“But it keeps happening.” 

His hair shines dark and wet. It must be raining outside, the safe house walls are thick, the windows shuttered permanently, you haven’t heard a peep. You stroke it back from his forehead. 

“Remember… when we first got together, and you told me you were sorry for how hard being with you could be. And I said it was okay, that it wasn’t hard, and you said it would be?” 

“I remember,” he says, practically mouths. 

“I was so afraid when...” You swallow roughly. “I still am. But not– not of you. Not of what you can do. When you told me it was going to be hard, I thought, well, it’s worth it, because I really liked you then and I love you now.” Tears collect in your eyes. Safe. I’m safe. “And you look after me, so– so–” 

You stop as your voice turns to glass, worried you’ll make a fool of yourself and cry in his hands. 

“I didn’t want this for you,” he says. 

“Nobody wants this. Bad things happen to everyone, but who has someone like you to look after them?” 

He breathes out heavily. “Please… don’t cry.” 

You wipe your cheeks, taking a lengthy pause before you say, “I’m okay now.” 

He looks at you in silence. 

“Come and sit with me,” you say, scrubbing your cheeks, hot tears cooling on the backs of your hands. “Your knees.” 

He actually smiles. It changes his entire face. “What about my knees?” 

Aaron sits on the couch next to you atop Jack’s blanket, a bag of pretzels tipping between your leg and his. You attempt to rake his damp hair into submission as his fingers run against your thighs, fishing for pretzels to put back into the bag. 

You’d like for him to grab you and kiss you harshly, give you one of his straight jacket hugs, some roughhousing, but you won’t get that from him until you're better, and even then, it’s up in the air. So much has changed. 

But not everything. 

“I love you,” you murmur, fingertips scratching down behind his ear to the back of his head. 

He turns to you, sagging with relief and exhaustion. “Kiss?” he asks quietly. 

You nod. He holds your cheek, and you close your eyes at the same time for a kiss. It’s not a lot, but you have time. He can give you another one when you’re both better recovered. 

He pulls away. You open your eyes, finding his closed, his face downturned. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“Was Jack good?” 

“Jack’s always good.” 

“Did the nurse have anything to say about your chest?” 

“She said it’s healing okay. That I need to use, uh, scar patches when they start to scab.” 

“I can get those.” 

“I know, I knew you would.” 

He gathers you up for a hug. For a moment, you think he’ll move on, that the end of your nightmare will kill his remorse, but he breathes in, nose wedged against your cheek. 

“Do you think that tonight, we could pretend it didn’t happen?” You’d like to just sit with him, press your hand to his chest and doze. It’s the first night in a while that you’ll feel completely. 

“Yeah. I can do that.” He hugs you rather tightly. “Do you want to see your present?” he asks, relaxing his grip. 

“My present?” 

He grabs the bag on the coffee table and places it in your lap. “I’m worried it’ll remind you of bad memories, but I wanted you to have nice things then, and I still do.” 

In the bag, there’s a pair of pyjamas. Very different to the ones you’d been wearing when you were attacked, they were girly and sweet, soft in your hands, these are sturdy. Still soft, but thick. The shirt is short-sleeved and the pants cuffed at the ankles, a hoodie tucked underneath them, and a packet of minky socks. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

Thanks for everything, for saving you twice, for taking care of you at your worst, and for wanting you to have something comfortable to wear at the end of it. To have experienced an abjectly cruel battering will leave its marks in your forever, but you meant what you told him. He looks after you, and you love him. 

He kisses your shoulder. “You don't need to say that.” 

He doesn’t add anything else, his nose pressed to your shoulder, his hand on your hip. Whatever goes unsaid can be felt in the other’s touch. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank u for reading!! it’s been a long time since I wrote a fic for hotch and it’s hard to write him being vulnerable but I hope this is alright anyways and that you enjoyed :D please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it (cos that way my fics get shown to more people <3) ❤️

[the-original-skipps]

|| General Headcanons #1 || Suo Hayato || Wind Breaker ||

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10

PLAY!

just some headcanons about suo I thought of while daydreaming no means canon

disclaimer: repeat this isn’t canon just my thoughts also a lot of these facts I based on some scenes in the manga (spoilers) and his character profile which I will put lastly for reference

❥ Something tells me that our resident teasing master is a rich boy. He owns antique tasseled earrings and I bet his clothes are all high quality and expensive, because where do you buy Chinese styled clothes? Your local H&M ain’t got them. Also I googled hemp and silk made clothes and they ain’t cheap, no means I’m an expert but just saying.

❥ Our resident rich boy lives in a quite a huge house. Imagine those traditional Japanese houses with a huge garden. Said garden where he often mediates, trains and of course have his tea.

❥ Speaking of tea, I bet he has a wide collection of tea leaves from worldwide which I think are imported and hella expensive. Not to mention an array of tea sets with different price ranges from cheap to a tea set served to the previous shogun himself.

❥ I think he’s an only child. I headcanon that his parents or parent is often abroad or away for work for long periods of time. So he spends a lot of his time alone. Household chores or cooking he does them all.

❥ Regarding cooking, he’s an expert-he’s often alone so he has a a lot of free time learning how to make different dishes but does he eat them often? I don’t think so. I think he can cook really well but like he says he’s on a “diet”. Someone feed this boy some food.

❥ Stated in his character profile, it says that he can speak another language besides Japanese. Just guessing but I think it’s either English or Chinese. Please Nii Satoru give us a scene showcasing that!

❥ Huge movie lover, especially foreign films where it’s in a another language. Leonardo DiCaprio might be his favorite actor? He doesn’t have a particular genre he likes, he watches everything from historical to romantic comedy.

❥ I bet he has a strict sleeping schedule, always waking up and sleeping at the same time. His favorite sleeping position is on his back, with his hands on his stomach. Like a corpse. Does he wear his eyepatch to sleep? Not when he’s alone but wears the medical eyepatch if someone is around.

❥ He definitely knows flower language or meaning behind plants. Manga readers you’ll know what I’m talking about.

❥ Probably doesn’t like natto because it smells pretty strong cause he’s pretty sensitive to smells.

[rifari2037]

To me, no, they're not.

It's not like Zuko wanted or needed an ideal little sister in his main arc. Whether he had an ideal sister figure or not in his journey, it wouldn't change his storyline at all.

Did Zuko sad or hurt toward Azula after she lied to him and made him a fugitive?

No, he didn't.

Did Zuko sad or hurt toward Azula after she said, "I'm about to celebrate becoming an only child!"??

No, he didn't.

Whatever bad things Azula did to Zuko didn't make him sad or hurt, meaning that the ideal little sister wasn't something Zuko had in mind.

So, having another character to be the ideal little sister for him would be pointless.

And unless you denying what's on the show...

These 👇🏽 scenes not at all siblings would do, or it would be so cringe. You can't imagine Sokka put a betrothal necklace to his sister, or Azula touch his brother's face with thumb on his lips.

These 👇🏽scenes also didn't show how siblings would do (at least on the show), since Sokka and Suki, the canon couple, did the same thing.

Just like this scene 👇🏽didn't show how siblings would do or see each other (at least to me), as it depicts couple in other show.

Beside, how could Katara possibly be the ideal little sister for Zuko, if they couldn't avoid the boyfriend/girlfriend allegations?

- and they always denied it like teenagers hide their feelings.

And I don't think Toph is an ideal little sister for Zuko since they weren't that close to each other. I don't even think Zuko knew her name!

Okay, I know Zuko and Toph had a deep conversation in this scene 👇🏽, but they were talking about Iroh and not his sister.

Isn't that enough to show that he always thought about 'ideal father', not 'ideal little sister'? After all, when Toph tried to open up to Zuko, he ended up shutting her down.

Zuko never showed implicit nor explicit something like, "if only I had a little sister like her...", or "if only my little sister act like her...", or acted brotherly towards them.

It was so different from the way he wanted love from his father. His father figure affected his story a lot. It was the reason he obsessed catching the avatar, it was the reason he betrayed Katara, and it also the reason Zuko realised that his destiny was to help the avatar.

Zuko's needed and wanted an ideal father, he found that from Iroh, showed explicit and implicit on the show.

Zuko : After I leave here today, I'm gonna free Uncle Iroh from his prison and I'm gonna beg for his forgiveness. [Cuts to shot of Ozai.] He's the one who's been a real father to me.

Iroh : [Close-up.] I was never angry with you. I was sad because I was afraid you had lost your way. Zuko : [Side-view of the two.] I did lose my way. Iroh : [Releases him.] But you found it again. [Frontal view.] And you did it by yourself. [Frontal view of Zuko over Iroh's shoulder.] And I am so happy you found your way here. [Side-view. Hugs him again.]

Iroh acted like a father to Zuko, as if he was making amends to his dead son. And Zuko needed a father figure like Iroh to guide him on the right path.

I don't think there's any need to force other characters to be an ideal sister that Zuko didn't want or need for his arc.

[dubiousculturalartifact]

Obviously I’ve been queerbaited before, like, a genuinely incalculable number of times, and maybe thinking Buddie might actually go canon is a ‘fool me sixteen times, shame on me’ scenario, but I think one big thing that’s keeping my hope alive is this thought: If you genuinely believe that Buddie isn’t going to go canon, 100% zero possibility and absolutely no intention of trying... Then you also have to believe the people who create the show we’re all fans of are purposefully cruel dicks. 

Because we have SEEN what it looks like when the showrunner of 911 knows there is no possibility of it happening, has no plans of it, and is generally trying to avoid accusations of queerbaiting.

It looks like S5 & S6. Little bits here and there, the odd important scene to throw breadcrumbs… but a lot of keeping the two characters apart, being circumspect in interviews, PR shut downs on the actors, etc. The show has proven they are capable and willing to exactly that!

So indulge me, and imagine for a second. They had the conversation with the new network, and the execs told them they wanted to continue with the status quo, to write as if Buddie is never going to go canon, BUT were willing to bend so far as to make one of them queer, to keep the fans happy.

What would that look like?

I don't know, call me foolish.... But I think it would look like keeping the same dynamic from The Drought Seasons. Having them be friends and important to each other but still fairly disconnected, not having as much screen-time, etc, It would look like having Buck’s coming out arc be a SEPARATE, individual narrative. If they just wanted to write Tommy and Buck, and that's it, they could have done things differently.

There are just so many conceivable ways they could have written Buck’s coming out arc, to almost completely separate it from Eddie and have it be made clear, in no uncertain terms, that Buck is bi but that doesn’t mean he cares about Eddie like that, that Eddie is a hetero McHetero.

Buck’s coming out arc could have included him being jealous because he’s suddenly faced with Tommy in the flesh and is insecure about how he was technically ‘Tommy’s replacement’ at the 911, with Eddie not relevant to it at all, or have Maddie and Chimney be the ones to interrupt The Date, or literally any other scenario that didn’t make it all about Eddie. 

They could have had one short scene where Eddie and Buck talk about it, and then the rest would be like, Buck talking to Hen about being queer, Buck interacting just with Tommy and getting to know him, Buck doing a research binge about bisexuality and info-dumping at an inappropriate time during a call, etc etc etc.

That’s how you tell that story and only be writing it for the proverbial ‘general audience’.

But they didn't. They purposefully reversed direction. They chose for Buck’s coming out arc to... highlight his nigh-feral jealousy over Eddie forming a homosocial bond with another guy, having said guy repeat with genuine surprise and shock that it was him and not Eddie that Buck was interested in, have Eddie interrupt their date, have Buck be more worried about lying to Eddie than the fact that he’s queer at all, have Maddie say what she did to Buck about telling Eddie in specifically ambiguous terms…

In a season that also included the Fire Extinguisher Incident, and Buck saying he ‘wishes he could help’ with Eddie’s sexual frustration, and a big increase in social media engagement, and having Buck being Eddie’s rock in the last few episodes while he had a bizarrely platonic affair with his dead wife's doppleganger…

If they did that while KNOWING the plan was actually for Buck/Tommy endgame and Eddie riding off in the sunset with a hot female firefighter who has a cool motorcycle or whatever the fuck, or them both dying in a freak car-washing accident, or….

If they GENUINELY planned that? If the entire Buck jealousy plotline was intended to be nothing more than a deliberate queerbait-and-switch? Then they’re fucking assholes, sorry. They would have to know full well exactly what they were doing, how many people’s hopes and emotional investment they were toying with... If they were actually planning to keep dragging it along for seasons more of baiting and dangling things in front of us, while knowing categorically that they had no plans to deliver? That would be genuinely GOD TIER levels of specific, intentional queerbaiting.

Which could be the case! I won't deny that. Shows have done it before, plenty of times. Tim et al could be callous bastards deliberately instructing the actors to wink it up in interviews and share suggestive Tiktoks, and writing Buck’s coming out arc as being entirely focused around Eddie and throwing out hints... All while laughing behind Buddie fans' backs about our gullibility, how we’re keeping the show trending on the force of our delusions, etc. Maybe that's it! Maybe they just genuinely enjoying fucking with people. Or maybe they were just shitty enough writers that they didn't know what they were doing, and it was all a total accident, somehow, the proverbial monkeys pounding at keyboards and accidentally spelling out B U D D I...

But you know what? Call it naive, but I prefer to think they’re not huge assholes, or hugely incompetent.

That there might actually be a point to all this, somewhere down the line.

I guess we'll find out.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

What do you think each of the crowd would smell like? Not to be creepy, I just want to smell like Inej Ghafa

Interesting question; I’m afraid that Inej canonically smells of nothing according to Kaz, except for during the bathroom scene when he says that she smells of the hotel soap she just used. Nina does say when on parem that the table where she healed Inej’s stab wound smells of her but it’s strongly implied that the parem gives her the ability to distinguish the scent of one person’s blood from another and it’s the leftover blood she can still smell even after the table has been cleaned and know that it was Inej’s blood.

Nina canonically smells of the perfume that’s used to falsely scent the White Rose’s flower arrangements at the start of Six of Crows, according to Matthias, and later on the Ferolind during the journey to Fjerda smells of the toffees she stashed and has been eating.

During Crooked Kingdom, Nina and Jesper (and Kuwei, if you’d like to include him) canonically smell of coffee because they’re wearing it all the time like perfume to hide from the possibility that the Kerghud soldiers can smell the difference between Grisha and otkazats’ya

That’s all the canon mentions of people’s scents that I can recall off the top of my head, but if anyone remembers any others let me know, and as for headcanons:

Wylan probably spends most of the books smelling of the chemicals he uses in his explosives, Kaz claims that the scent of smoke can cling to people’s shirt cuffs and I expect that would ring true for Wylan. Pre and post canon he probably smells of fancy soap and, if it exists in the Grishaverse, nice curl cream or other products that he uses on his hair, but even if that does exist in the Grishaverse I very much doubt he had access to it during canon.

Jesper most likely often smells of smoke and gunpowder, pre and maybe during canon he probably often had the smell of alcohol on his clothes as well, and perhaps post canon fancy soap and the tinge of engine oil.

The Barrel may smell terrible but that doesn’t mean Kaz has to reduce himself to it and he most definitely won’t; he probably smells of soap and leather most of the time, plus he clearly puts a lot of effort into his suits so you may be able to smell whatever they’ve been so well washed in. Also quite possibly blood. I’m now thinking maybe he would deliberately choose scentless soaps because I read a book where lingering perfume was recognised at a crime scene and he would want to avoid anything that might be recognisable.

We know for a fact that Hellgate was a disgusting smelling place with poor access to hygiene and clean water, but after he was freed I imagine Matthias became hyper aware of cleanliness because of this limited access to hygiene products and kept himself very neat and clean. He probably smells of soap most of the time. Pre canon I imagine there were pretty strict hygiene and general cleanliness rules for the Drüskelle so again he probably smelt quite clean, but also had something of the rugged air and cold Northern winds about him. He also may have had the scent of some kind of shampoo since he had very long hair that the smell would remain clinging to, but I expect that whatever he used was standardised amongst the Drüskelle.

At home Inej probably smelled of spices and perfumes and chalk, and at the Menagerie she probably smelled of cheap, overpoweringly strong perfume. It’s a combination of both of these factors that make me think she was actively choosing to avoid scent during the duology, hence Kaz saying “she didn’t even have a scent”, and choosing scentless soaps. Post canon she probably smells of salt and the sea most of the time, and would maybe pick up a scented soap every now again to practice testing her limits and branching out since we know she actively pushes herself with some of the smaller things like this that she finds difficult

Honestly I’m not sure if i have any particular headcanons about Nina, though I think she would avoid rose-scented perfume post canon

Thanks for the ask! This was pretty fun to think about <33

This has been another episode of DK Finally Gets It Together And Answers Her Asks Because It’s About Damn Time (Working Title), thank you for joining me, if you’d like to see the rest of the series you can find it in the tags or if that isn’t working (again 🤦‍♀️) then in my pinned post <3

[intermittent-showers]

I think there's a lot of evidence in the show itself for bucktommy endgame, but nothing has convinced me buddie is a nonstarter more than tim saying in that interview that he has written to please fandom in the past and it was always a mistake so he doesn't do it anymore. like I cannot imagine a guy who says that seeing the outrageous reaction from buddie stans and saying "okay fine I'll give you what you want" that fandom is literally shooting itself in the foot.

also him saying that fandom reaction rarely matches the reaction of the general audience, which is so true. I was rewatching all the bucktommy scenes on YouTube (brainrot and all u know how it is) and the comments on the clips are all so overwhelmingly positive you've gotta try hard to find anyone saying negative shit. it's so clear that the backlash to tommy is coming from a very niche part of the fan base and does not at all reflect the real overall thoughts of fans. like I don't think he's listening to the handful of people screaming nonsense when fans at large have nothing but good things to say. if he WAS going to take direction from fans, I think I know what direction that would be and it's not buddie

Precisely!

Regardless if bucktommy is endgame or not... the fact is Buddie will never be romantic in canon.

And that doesn't mean people can't still have it in fanon, but they do need to identify the difference between the two and end this senseless ship war.

At this point, it's only making everyone miserable.

[colleybri]

Cassian x Bix and Rebelcaptain: Please let these ships be friends !

I ‘ship’ Cassian x Bix AND Cassian x Jyn. I see there has been some conflict in the past when the “new woman” was first brought in with the series, some that remains now, and I’m both saddened and bemused by that.

Rebelcaptain for me is a canon relationship… to a certain extent. I have no doubt that these brave heroes would have ended up together had they lived. That’s why I love it… the whole beautiful tragedy of what might have been, and the loyalty that binds people together when making a sacrifice like this. Were they actually in love, in canon? For me – no. Not yet. And that’s important for my personal enjoyment of Rogue One, especially its ending. As the novelisation stresses, Cassian dies without knowing Jyn as “There wasn’t the time”. And I simply don’t believe you can love someone without knowing them . But I enjoy the idea of exploring what would have happened had they lived. They are a perfect loyal “battle couple”, definitely my favourite fanon SW couple and great to imagine together. I see Rebelcaptain also as a way of giving them the happy ending they deserved. Oh - and the chemistry between Felicity Jones and Diego Luna on-screen is absolutely electric. In short and again: I have no doubt that they would have fallen in love had they lived and would have been perfect for each other. And they are a perfect fanon ship.

(^^ And I I think this is the exact moment in canon when they both acknowledge the loss of what might have been. It’s just heartbreakingly beautiful… )

Cassian x Bix - I don’t even think of it as a ‘ship’ per se as it is a 100% canon relationship, and one that is currently ongoing as we wait for Andor S2.. It’s fascinating to me – 17 years of friendship that has occasionally blossomed into a romantic/sexual relationship. It’s a genuinely unusual set up too. I’ve read a few takes that they are “over each other” by the time of the start of the series, to which I want to say … watch again, closely! They certainly have moved on to date different people, but it’s also very clear from their interactions (especially in the intense scene in Ep 7) that there is still a lot of extremely deep feeling between them – even if some of it is very negative. In the S1 production notes, the show’s creator Tony Gilroy says that they “are meant to be together… but it’s been impossible all these years. Now, she’s done with him … he’s burnt every last bridge .” Why? The series also provides the answer – Cassian is in many ways an absolute mess at the start of the season and Bix was quite rightly fed up with him as a boyfriend. He’s completely unreliable, likes short-lived affairs (often with married women - so no risk of commitment!), isn’t working regularly and has debts all over the place. This largely stems from his “unresolved childhood trauma”. He has a fear of “leaving people behind” and despite having a lot of love to give “ is so scared of being loved”. But he and Bix nonetheless prove to be incredibly loyal friends and their love in this platonic sense clearly runs very deep indeed. They have known each other since he was 10 so she is also something like a sister figure. Bix is still very protective of Cassian and takes personal risks for him… and he finally comes to appreciate this and pay back his metaphorical debt to her in the finale. The question now is what season 2 holds for them, if anything.

(^^ I love the way she is using her fingertips to push his hand off, as if to avoid the risk of too much touch. The gesture and look that says “Please don’t try and get close to me again because we both know how bad that is for us… but I’m such a total idiot when it comes to you that I will still very unwisely go out of my way to help you, especially when you look at me like that so please just don’t”)

Does loving their messy and complicated relationship mean that I want Cassian and Bix to ‘end up together’ ? No, and the obvious additional point is that they don’t! They are both going to be very different people at the start of S2 and over the following years of the story . Bix has been traumatised; Cassian has been radicalised. And that’s just the start. Perhaps they quickly drift apart. Perhaps some kind of betrayal is involved. Perhaps one or both of them will want to commit again to a relationship, but it’s impossible because of the demands of the rebellion (like Vel /Cinta). Perhaps Bix “ends up with” someone else (Brasso, ideally, especially if they both survive the season). Perhaps they will get back together at least for a while and enjoy a little last happiness before inevitable heartbreak. Perhaps all, some or none of these. But none of that stops me from loving and appreciating what they do have, what they have had up to now, and the intriguing dynamics of when they do interact on screen. Bix x Cassian attracts me as a fanfic ship because it’s all about exploring what is there and how it came to be, which is why I currently don’t write them beyond the present time of season 1. I’m waiting to see what happens next in Canon, as it were, because that to me is an important part of writing them. Meanwhile, I’m enjoying analysing the relationship by imagining them in the past.

So for me Bix x Cassian in no way impacts on Jyn x Cassian or vice versa, especially if you apply… real life principles rather than the ideals of fandoms: “soulmates” and OTPs. Many people – most people – will have a beautifully intense and loving relationship with more than one person at different times of their lives. I’m old – trust me on this one.

^^ Both relationships in these two scenes go way beyond romance. In the first - many years of close and loyal friendship. In the second: a bond created through brave and selfless sacrifice together. And for both: Cassian’s absolute hatred of being “someone who leaves people behind”: the quality that I love best about him. And saving each other. Literally and metaphorically.

And oh… it’s beautiful. Both moments are beautiful.

Edit: I won’t do any speculating here about the content of the trailers and articles. Except to say that there’s nothing in them that detracts from the emotional power of both ships. They can continue to happily coexist. 

[sunsets12]

Hi! I've been reading your story for the last few days and I love your take on a slightly dark Percy Jackson, especially given where his current environment is. Thank you for sharing your work!

If you don't mind, I am a little curious to know what the future 74 tributes think of "Perseus". What are these current 8 - 14-year-olds' opinions on Percy? Specifically Katniss, Peeta, and the Career gang.

Percy is the literal nightmare for a Career (and training one at) as he is considered to be a very strong and skilled outlier with no "official" training. On the other hand, he could be a little popular with the other districts given his compassion and loyalty, or in the very least what the Capitol allowed to be viewed of these characteristics. It would not surprise me if District 12 actually sees him as a somewhat worthy victor given his kindness toward Daffodil.

Canonically, the 70th Hunger Games is just a little after Katniss's dad died, so when trying to remember them (and Annie, as the Victor who she learns Finnick is in love with) she can't recall them well. It's somewhat similar in this story, where she didn't pay much attention to the games while they were happening. But District 12 as a whole paid a lot of attention to the scene where Percy comforts Daffodil as she's dying, so Katniss inevitably hears about it

She goes back and forth between thinking it was genuine and something he did to try and get sponsors (following her very analytical and negative thoughts about Peeta's actions towards her in the beginning of the first book). She oscillates between not thinking about Percy at all, to thinking he's actually pretty kind, to thinking he's just another career willing to do anything to survive. She'll remember him and think of him differently after Rue

Unlike Katniss, Peeta was paying attention to the Hunger Games. He never meet Daffodil, barely even saw her around in District 12 since they weren't in the same class and she lived in the Seam, but he thinks the action was incredible. It informs the conversation he has with Katniss the night before they enter the arena--how even though he is willing to kill, he doesn't want the Capitol to change him. He wants to be like Percy in that regard

The Careers are a really interesting perspective! I imagine if you're not from 4, word doesn't get out that Percy WASN'T a career--I mean, he certainly was skilled enough to be one. So Clove, Cato, Glimmer, and Marvel all think he is a career who went rogue and destroyed the pack before it ever even started--a big taboo. However, he was also quite possibly the strongest and most skilled Victor, like... ever, so even though it's behind their instructors back, all of the people training to be careers can't help but admire him

And though you didn't ask about him, I want to mention Thresh (who is possibly my favorite minor character in the series--I cried when he died in my last reread). In this fic, Percy has a BIG impact on Thresh and his values in the arena. Most notably, Thresh kills Clove after Clove brags about killing his district partner (Rue), but he lets Katniss go after learning she allied with her. This reflects Percy's hunt of Andromeda and saving both Judy and Annie when he could have let both of them die (the bloodbath and the bear).

Also, according to Katniss in Catching Fire, Thresh could have easily gotten into the Career pack if he wanted/he was invited into the pack, but he didn't join. This is also mirroring Percy refusing to join the career pack despite being from a career district

Wow this answer got long

[nuri148]

My Take on Levi's Age

I originally wrote this as a rb addition to another post. I've been meaning to make it a stand alone post since then, and with all the talk about Levi's age since the publication of bad boy, here it is, finally.

If you ask me, Levi could not have been more that 4-5 years old at the time Kenny found him around 829.

Why?

He's severely malnourished, probably spent several days cloistered in the room with Kuchel with nothing to eat. So my guess is that, though he was old enough to speak and understand Kuchel was dead (even if he could not quite grasp the bigger concept of Death), he was too young to go out and procure himself and his mum some food, be it by stealing or begging. And for that, he's need to be very young.

I lived in Greater Buenos Aires more than half of my life (the infamous "conurbano"), and I've seen lots of very small kids, 4-5 years old, begging like pros for either change or food. It's unfortunately very common in impoverished areas. And I wasn't even in the bad ones. So, in that aspect, the Underground wouldn't be different from our villas or Brazil's favelas.

Kuchel was a prostitute. She wouldn't want Levi to witness her at work. It is fair to think that as soon as he was old enough to cross the street she'd let him roam and go play with other kids while mummy's busy. There, he'd quickly learn how to come by a piece of moldy bread to stave hunger.

So in order to just sit starving by his mother instead of going out looking for help, Levi must have been young enough that his mum could still keep him under wraps; too young to know his way about the Underground's streets, too much of a rookie in terms of using his charm or his cunning to get a bit of food.

Uri Reiss inherited the Founding Titan in 829. BUT, nowhere does it say that Kenny's encounter with Uri happens right after the latter became a titan. So Kenny might have joined Uri up to a couple of years after 829 (not many, as Rod Reiss still looks young in that flashback).

So Kenny finds Levi between 829 and 831; And Levi is 4-5 then, meaning he was born, at earliest, in 823 (considering his b-day is only one week before the year's end, that'd make him 5 in for most of 829) and latest in 825 (same if Kenny found him in 831). That makes him 10-12 years older than Eren and company. , ~20 when he joins the SC, ~26 during seasons 1-3, ~30 after the time skip, and ~33 in the epilogue.

"But Yams said he was thirty-somethiiiing!"

TLDR: I wouldn't consider canon some spur-of-the-moment answer given by Yams in a panel where he's probably tired, nervous, and doesn't have his timeline handy.

Allow me to speak here as a writer: the whims of your imagination often don't align with the logic of what needs to go on the page. So it is perfectly possible to imagine your character in a way that is inconsistent with your timeline. You see them with short hair and summer clothes fixing lunch in their sunny kitchen in a scene and, when they move to the dining room you see them with hair 4 inches longer and serving supper as a snowstorm rages outside. When you write it, you're going to have to pick up one, and go back to your notes often for continuity after, bc your brain keeps forever placing the kitchen in sunny summer and the living room in a winter night. Oh, and they're both simultaneously on the ground and the second floor. Escher pictures make more sense.

The story of AoT spans many years, so we don't know which year Levi is the default Levi in Yams' brain. It could even be the Levi from the time skip, or from a future after the last chapter that only exists in his imagination. Also, Yams has bungled up numbers before so, personally, I don't trust him much in that department.

In any case, Math is a hard science, so if Kenny found Levi with 4-5 years in 829, he can't be 30+ in 850. 5+21=26. No matter what Yams says.

Additional notes:

The original post. With additions. I recommend reading the quoted twitter thread.

Another, recent twitter thread on Levi's age

A lengthy post by an actual psychologist providing scientific foundation for Levi's age when Kenny finds him.

I saw yet another post on Levi's age recently, but I can't find the link rn and I have to make lunch. if/when I find it, I'll add it (and others I may come across)

[muffinrecord]

I've been pretty positive about Yuu so far, but watching her magical girl story... hmm.

Basically I like everything about Yuu, but man that serial killer bit is the only thing that really sticks out as an overt bad choice. Having Nagisa stand around and watch Yuu kill people is such a weird choice, it feels more like fanfic than actual canon. Like this doesn't feel like something that could happen in Magia Record-- or hell, even in Madoka Magica either.

For example, Sayaka has a scene on a train where some dudes are being sexist assholes and it's left up to the viewer to decide if she kills them or not. It doesn't go: Sayaka killed them and also they were calling out for help the entire time while Madoka watched you know?

That said, this is something I can see in a bunch of the spinoffs (Kazumi, Oriko, Suzune), but I think everyone agrees that the spinoffs are of dubious quality. I love me the spinoffs but they're a hot mess.

I dunno. It's one thing to know that Yuu is a serial killer, it's another thing to have a character watch her go around and kill people and not intervene in any way. Especially in a story that goes out of its way to not do that. Walpy hitting Kamihama is noted to have no causalities at all (which goes a little too far in the other direction imo but it is what it is), Suzune isn't able to kill anyone in Kamihama and is dealt with by kicking her out (and not killing her), the deaths in arc 2 are mostly accidental and have massive consequences, everyone is forgiven in the end-- this isn't a story that really has "watch someone kill people and do nothing" in it's cards, you know?

I actually liked Nagisa's Wish for a lot of things. For example, I like that Nagisa didn't think she could be a magical girl until she saw Yuu, because she assumed that magical girls had to be good people-- aka, Nagisa did not think she was good. But that's not because Nagisa is a bad person. Nagisa is just unloved, and since she's a young kid, she's internalized that to mean that something is wrong with her, not that something is wrong with her mom. It's heartbreaking to see her go from "I can't be a magical girl," to seeing Yuu the murderer, to then going "oh okay if she can be a magical girl then so can I." Like sweet pea, your mother not loving you is not the same as being a killer. You've done nothing wrong. You are not a bad person for having Feelings and Emotions about the neglect you are experiencing.

However the serial killer/organ seller bit just goes too far for me and it kind of overshadows a lot of the better ideas present in Nagisa's Wish. Like how can you focus on the interesting ideas about justice or self worth when there is a serial killer/organ stealer walking around.

I think that the best qualities of Yuu are her design and how creepy she is-- having her actually go all the way and be a serial killer/organ seller actually makes her less creepy in my opinion. Yada yada, less is more, leave it up to the viewer's imagination. If she was just off, if we just knew that something was wrong with her and that people are disappearing but it's not outright stated what she's doing... I dunno. That would make her a lot more scary to me. A lot of fear can be found in apprehension and outright telling all the details will fill in too many gaps.

Like, the things that we all like about Yuu would be her voice direction, her memory issues, the way her Live2D is designed to be slightly off kilter from everyone else, the gap between her attitude and the darkness she engages in, the weird weaponry she uses and how it changes the way she walks/moves-- all of this is effective because it is offputting and different, not because the narrative is telling us "hey she kills people and sells their organs."

Basically I really love Yuu, but I do have some criticisms for her character and I understand why some folks don't like her.

That said, it did lead to this fantastic line from Kyubey so like,

You take some, you lose some.

[obsidianpen]

Hii, please treat is as compliment but im amazed how multishipper you can be! wish i could be as well, so i could enjoy all the fics instead of sticking to 1-2 ships per fandom. If you dont mind me asking, when you write do you have problems with ships colliding? like when you write NG smut scene and then later for BG and Tom feels like cheater to have both harry and hermione or you can easily separate your thoughts and plans for these pairs? im just curious how do you see and feel it and if you have times where you prefer one of the ships more and cant get into another bc of that or you can even get into totally new one. Or are you just open minded to any relationships and can easilly imagine scenario for them? Im unable to do that without my internal shipper involved sadly

hi! No, I don't have a problem at all shipping different characters, in any combination really. For me, it's not about Person A being the perfect match for Person B, end of story. It's really much more about the circumstances. The reason I like Harrymort isn't because I think Harry as an individual makes sense for Voldemort as an individual. I don't. What makes me like it is the countless circumstances that force them together (and I mean together in the literal sense) in the canon. The prophecy, the soul shit, the similarities, the fact that Voldemort is constantly calling him 'his' and the fact that Harry gets an in-depth education on TR's life and the biggest thing he learns is that TR is very handsome. But if it would have been a different person in Harry's person, I probably would have been more drawn to that.

I think most people have the ability to fall in love with just about anyone (within reasonable expectations) if the circumstances are right. That does not mean I can easily imagine those scenarios. Blood and Gold took a lot of world building for me to think, all right, these two are going to want to kill fuck each other. And all good, convincing fics do take a lot of work. AND, if I'm being honest, I've been thinking about that werewolf!Draco Dramione fic kind of nonstop the past few days, because the circumstances would be just so much fun to write, and probably one of the few ways I could write that ship where Draco would be worthy of someone like the baddie Hermione (also because I can't stop imagining how cute a Mentor Remus and then therefore Sirius would end up being in that story, because that's def what would happen, and the way I see it in my head, it's adorable, three Wolfie doggos outcasts being miserable together, and Harry being hella jealous that Draco's spending time with them when he's stuck at umbridge's Hogwarts, and I kind of need it. but that's not what you were asking).

Anyway, short answer - no, I don't feel like they're 'cheating' on each other, I keep my stories all very firmly separate from each other in that regard!

[randomlydreamingsblog]

Thinking about Kakashi and Sakura’s relationship in canon (no shipping) and how my perception is so much different than most people. Some claim he’s like a father figure to her. I strongly disagree because to be honest Kakashi didn’t really pay that much attention to Sakura during her genin days. Yes, he cared for her because she was his student but that was it.

His first impression of her was that she wasn’t so serious about being a ninja and that she cared more about her crush on Sasuke (a true Sakura fan know that it wasn’t exactly like that but I’m talking about his POV specifically).

He noticed she had a lot of potential (incredibly smart, great chakra control, great with genjutsu and he recognized that her will to fight was just as strong as Naruto’s). But that was also just that, throughout all part 1 there was no development or any scene that was focused only with the two of them (I know that it was the writing and also Sakura was meant to go to Tsunade anyways, but you know what I mean).

Actually he was a little rude to her sometimes, even though it was understandable why he did it. But he had very low expectations of her, in his own words “fragile little Sakura”

The OG Kakashi -even though he was an outstanding jounin and a great observer - could be a little judgmental and thought he knew better just because he was older and more experienced. But as he goes through his journey with Team 7, even though he was the sensei, he gradually realized how much he has learned from them. All of his 3 students made him reflect about his perspectives and actions in a way he never imagined he could. They help him heal and grow to be even better than he already was.

What I mean is that just like everybody else in the story, Kakashi also had his flaws and personality development (which to me only makes him even more interesting and relatable) and that’s what makes him such an amazing beloved character.

It’s a little weird how he had no idea on what kind of training Sakura was doing with Tsunade. He was so shocked about her new abilities and growth that infers they didn’t spent time or even talked to each other, that he had never checked on how she was doing, even though she was the only one his old students that stayed in Konoha for all those years.

And once again just like part one, he recognized all her potential but when it comes to real action, he doesn’t let her do much (but with Naruto he’s more than willing to include him, the writing is very contradicting and we all know it’s a little sexist, but anyways).

THIS right here is the moment that I think he really starts to SEE Sakura for who she really is. All of team 7 (him, Naruto, Yamato and Sai) had made a decision regarding Sasuke (go to the Raikage) without including her in the process and also hiding the truth about Itachi from her. I know that they wanted to protect her in a way, but we see how much Sakura hates being protected, all her hard training is exactly because she wanted to be a part of the team, not just watch them from their backs.

I like to think that his apology to her means more than just failing as a sensei on keeping the team together, but also failing at understanding her feelings and not taking her into consideration. From that moment on, especially in the war, we see moments of Kakashi defending her from Sasuke’s harsh words and finally including her on the final teamwork that successfully sealed Kaguya for example.

This moment when he reflects about the 3 of them really showcases how he has a completely different POV on them, meaning that he learned that he wasn’t always right about everything and how proud he was of them. It��s really beautiful how they all grew and matured together.

That’s why I could never consider Kakashi being a father figure, he was barely a teacher to her, and maybe that’s why it leaves an opening on shipping them later on (I’m not talking about the weird problematic people who ships them when Sakura is young, to me Kakasaku is only possible from the Blank Period forward, when she’s very much an adult).

Anyway this is only my interpretation of things, I’m just sharing it and I do not expect anything, I’m not really interested to know if people agree with it or not.

[sirfrogsworth]

The Curse of Artistic Vision

I think being an artist comes down to developing an image in your head and then feeling compelled to manifest it. Sometimes you are able to improve upon that image in your head. Or you end up with something different that you like better.

But sometimes, for various reasons, you can't quite make that image a reality. And I don't know if other artists feel this way, but it feels like heartbreak every time. Not quite on the level of an incident of human decoupling, but it definitely sticks with you for a long time.

Sometimes I am limited by the current state of my skillset. I just haven't learned enough and gained enough experience to take a photo like the one in my brain.

And sometimes I am limited by my body, which puts huge restrictions on the amount of energy I can dedicate to crafting a photo.

I feel my knowledge and experience has never been at the level I am currently at. I think I have the *potential* to shoot just about anything I can imagine. Which is a cool feeling. I also feel like my image editing and manipulation skills are at the highest they have ever been. Which means anything I can't do in-camera, I can achieve in Lightroom and Photoshop.

But I just don't have a lot of energy to capture photos right now. And I am very limited by how much physical effort I can dedicate to the photographic process. Which is very frustrating. I'm hoping if I build a new studio in the house that will help a lot.

In the meantime, I have this library of images I took before 2017. Many of them I was not able to achieve my artistic vision.

But... I came close.

Which means on many of these old images I can use my editing skills of today to achieve what I could not back then.

And so I have started a huge re-edit project where I go back and realize my images as I wanted them to be.

I had this idea for an image of someone in the middle of a dark forest in an open field reading a book and the only illumination was a lamp that seemed to be plugged into nothing. It popped into my head and it just seemed like a cool photo to create.

In July of 2016, my friend Ryan was visiting and we decided to try it. We even rented a big fancy 50 megapixel camera for a few days. I had never used a professional level camera and it was my birthday and I wanted that experience.

I even had this cool idea to hide a flash in the lamp so it would look like it was illuminated.

The resulting image was not anything like I had in my head. And for some reason, I edited it super bright, and you can barely even notice the cool lampshade flash trick. If you lower the exposure of the RAW file there is a well-defined circle of light in the grass, but it is hard to see in the 2016 edit.

Where is the dark background? Why didn't I underexpose the background to make it look like night or sunset? I knew how to do that back then. I totally could have crafted the photo in my head at that time.

But then I noticed I only took like 8 photos of this scene. And I *always* overshoot. I took 300 photos of a bridge recently.

Then I remembered what happened. We moved a giant rocking chair, a lamp, and lighting equipment to the middle of my neighbor's yard and by the time I was ready to take the photo, I was about to pass out. I believe it was very hot as well.

And so the above was the best I could do under that circumstance. My body limited my artistic vision. And this has been bothering me for years. Sometimes I will think back on this photo and how cool it looked in my head and I will feel that heartbreak again.

When I look at the RAW file... it is actually much better than my edited image.

Which makes me curious why I made it so damn bright. My best theory is I had a monitor that was slowly dying and I didn't realize how dim it got because our eyes are so good at adjusting, and it's possible all of my images from that era were overly bright because I was overcompensating for a dying display.

That fancy camera (Canon 5DS R) was a dream to work with. And having so many extra megapixels to play with is such a joy. People say you don't need more megapixels these days, but when you are doing high level image manipulation, having as much information as possible makes it a lot easier. Especially when making complex selections.

So, I've got a good start. I have a lot of pixels to play with. I was almost certain I could manifest my vision with modern knowledge and tools.

I'll start with the baseline edit in Lightroom. I'm not going to worry about the sky, as that will need to be swapped for my nighttime aesthetic.

The circle of light was there! It was just hiding in my bright exposure. So that's neat. And when you lower the exposure of the background, the lampshade trick presents itself as well.

At this point I was getting excited because I could see the potential. I just had to find the right sky. This one looks perfect.

Okay, it is time for the big reveal.

Did I finally get this image out of my brain and into reality?

I DID!

I don't know if people will like this or find it artistically interesting, but Ryan and I were both very happy with the new version.

Also, I think Ryan's purple shoes really steal the show.

Though I had one idea that was never in my head originally.

Should I try it?

I still haven't decided on the fireflies yet, but Ryan and Katrina like them.

I can't state how nice it was to work on a 50 megapixel photo from a full frame sensor coming from a 10 year old camera with 4 stops less dynamic range and 24 megapixels.

This is zoomed in to 100%!

And the image doesn't even get soft at 300%.

Sorry, I got caught up in the megapixels.

And there is one detail you'll probably never notice unless I point it out, but I completely rebuilt the lampshade because I overexposed it.

I always say small details add up to big results. Plus I had to use some creative problem solving to figure out how to recreate a lampshade and I always enjoy that part of the process—where you don't know how to do something and then you figure it out. Very satisfying.

In any case, my brain feels better now. I feel like I was able to settle something that has been bothering me for ages. And I am grateful I was able to realize my artistic vision—even if it took 8 years.

Here is the before and after. It's fun to switch back and forth.

On to the next photo. And it may involve a furry little orange friend.