#YOU might think its respectful to eat animals or whatever the fuck

[not-poignant]

Howdy pia.

I'm really scared of the answer to this 😅 but i have to know; do you think Ash dehumanises and/or disrespect humans now that he lives in the fae realm and is hunting more?

Does he pick healthier prey now and does he still take steps to stop the Glashtyn from SAing his victims?

Idk I feel like despite his darkness Ash is the kind of predator that would always appreciate/be thankful for his food lol and have respect for it, unlike Augus. But I might be wrong!

Sorry if that's too many questions. I thought it was better to put them all in one ask instead of sending multiple and clogging up your inbox 😆

Oufff anon you might not like the answer to this one so I'm going to put it under a read more:

I do think Ash is closer and closer to viewing humans as prey rather than people, and that he's less likely to have any sexual contact with them at all now that he's with the Gancanagh and also now that he's eating healthily.

His sex drive was always deeply tied into his sublimated prey drive, and now that's not being sublimated anymore, his sex drive has kind of switched to fae-focused. Especially because he doesn't have to be so careful, and the Gancanagh will heal from any damage Ash does to him.

Ash could never take steps to stop the Glashtyn from torturing, or raping his victims. Once he's transformed, the Glashtyn takes over, and everything that waterhorse does is completely out of Ash's hands. It's always been that way, it's one of the reasons Ash is so... hateful towards his waterhorse self for so long.

I think Ash is a lot less considerate of a person's personality these days before feeding, and is more likely to take healthy prey alongside dying or sick prey. He's more likely to feed on the kind of people he'd fuck in the past, basically, and while he still seduces them, he now seduces them with a view towards eating them, instead of taking them back to a room for a night. In some ways, he just has sex with humans almost not at all now.

I do think, to a degree, Ash still respects humans, but it's more like how people can respect an animal they've hunted but still eat it and end its life. And Ash is still home to the Glashtyn, who is still a sexual sadist and torturer, whatever happens once Ash transforms into the Glashtyn is then down to the Glashtyn and his choices. The Glashtyn wants his prey to feel fear before he kills them (so does the Each Uisge) - it improves the flavour to them.

Ash may get to a point where he starts to resent humans, but right now he's mostly just... eating them x.x

It's definitely not too many questions though! :D Honestly getting them bunched up like this is great because they're all on theme and I can address them all at once. :D

[naamahdarling]

I am a lifetime cat owner and deep devotee of meeting them where they are at, as autonomous thinking, feeling beings that deserve to choose, as often as possible, how their needs are met and how they spend their time.

Just about every single thing that causes feline stress and problem behaviors (in a cat that is NOT feral) boils down to 1) scarce resources or competition, 2) boredom, 3) insufficient means of expressing natural behaviors/punishments for doing so, 4) abuse, neglect, abandonment, or innocent human ignorance, or 5) a history of one or many of those things.

If you try to get a cat to change something that is huge to them, like not clawing the furniture or fixing litter habits or quelling aggression, you have to work with the animal and accept that what it is doing is what it not only knows to do but feels it must do. You have to respect that. You can very often patiently convince a cat that doing something is useless and doesn't get them enough of what they want so they might as well not bother, and you can often pretty swiftly redirect it to an even better option it didn't know was there, but you cannot force a cat to change its broad behaviors. You CAN stop them clawing the couch when you catch them, but because scratching is a deep primal need that serves MANY purposes, you can't force them to never do it without torturing them for the rest of their lives (declawing, never do this) or abusing them into being afraid of the couch...which leads to problems elsewhere as that stress then needs purging. They will claw something else. Possibly start pissing on the wrong things. And then they're afraid of you, too, because you are unpredictable. No yelling, gentle hands. No yelling, gentle hands. No yelling, gentle hands.

Undesirable behaviors may be bad habits learned early that are hard to break, like counter-surfing, but the really bad ones, the ones that lead to cats getting dumped at shelters, are usually expressions of stress. You HAVE to remove that stress or meet that need to get an animal that then might be capable of change. And they will maybe need time afterwards to adjust and recover before they are ready to have anything asked of them. You must be radically empathetic and very patient, and accept that problem behaviors getting better may not mean they are gone. And some can't be changed and they deserve to be kept safe and provided for and healthy, too.

Your goal needs to be "I want this cat happy and her needs well-met" and not "I want her to stop clawing the couch." You need to evaluate her scratching needs and preferences, possibly right down to her center of gravity and length of her little criminal arms, and meet them, and then see where you are at. And some cats? A scruffy couch is just the cost of keeping them, once they are in the habit. Sometimes letting them have the damn couch IS the best way to meet the need that clawing the couch meets. Redirect scratching elsewhere TO there! It can be Sophie's Couch! You can just give it to her!

It is exactly the same for humans.

You can't replace a coping mechanism (like eating nothing but spaghetti-os) with a fucking chore (shopping, cooking, dishes), or with what emotionally and physically feels like punishment (exercise, food that is unappetizing). ESPECIALLY not with both. Good god. (Which is why "diet and exercise" is pretty fucking useless as "advice." Chore, punishment, theft of joy. No way most people are going to do that.)

You address the stress. The financial horrors, the family tension, the abusive job, the overwhelming housework, the loneliness, the grief. Whatever. Then after a period of recovery, possibly involving some pretty fucked-up and undesirable behavior, the coping mechanism can be loosened.

You will probably also need to replace the coping mechanism with one that technically may not be ideal but is better than the current one (a different and healthier prepackaged microwaveable meal, every other day) and that may be as good as it ever gets, and medical professionals HAVE to be okay with that.

Some people will never ever change at all, and medical professionals need to be okay with that. They still deserve to be happy and have their needs met, and they deserve respect.

I tell my doctors that I will not restrict calories and I will never deliberately seek to be less fat. I tell them that the cost of me being alive is me eating a lot of junk food when I am stressed, and not exercising because right now there just isn't a way for me to do so safely that I can afford. This IS the healthiest coping mechanism I have. I don't smoke or drink or do drugs, I don't injure myself, I don't pick fights, I don't have risky sex, I don't behave recklessly. I don't gamble or spend too much money. I have chosen to let myself eat what I want and not exercise very much so I can use the energy I would spend doing "healthy" things to cope with The Horrors. Because I am fucking beset by them. Nearly every aspect of my life is curtailed, controlled, or spied on, or at the mercy of things and groups and people that at best wish I would cease to exist in my current form and at worst would love to force the issue.

I also do not want me to be doing the things I am doing, but like Sophie, I do not have the resources to do differently than I do.

Get me the resources or let me claw the fucking couch.

as someone in clinical psych, it drives me up the wall that everyone accepts as a goddamn fact that stress is directly linked to weight gain, and yet every single study on diet and exercise just… ignores this as a confounding factor? it’s gotten to the point where if i open a study on weight and don’t see a stress measure anywhere i just close it again because EVERY TIME the behavior they’re saying causes weight gain is… surprise… a behavior people do when they’re stressed. so either the behavior itself is a spurious correlation to the already established causal relationship between stress and weight gain, OR the behavior does contribute some unique amount to variability in health outcomes, but we’re ignoring why people are doing that behavior. like ok maybe eating nothing but spaghetti-o’s causes you to gain weight. why is no one ringing alarm bells going WHY IS THIS PERSON SO STRESSED THEY CAN EAT NOTHING BUT SPAGHETTI-O’S? the intervention is always “eat less spaghetti-o’s” not “holy fuck what can we address in your life so you aren’t forced into the miserable existence of eating nothing but spaghetti-o’s.” setting aside “why is weight loss even your outcome variable,” if weight loss IS your target why the FUCK are you ignoring this piece! i am grabbing my fellow scientists by the shoulders and shaking them vigorously!!

HELL! FUCKING! YES!!!!!!!! You, YOU keep talking!

[arabsinners]

Everything will look the same nothing will make sense the only thing that’s certain is confusion there’s never any quiet no trust no rest, the wick untouched the oil scarce and before that the candle was lit on both ends,

Let me tell you a story you most likely never heard

The nęķćįħÇ

When you think chicken you might think scaredy cat wimp afraid weak etc due to the reputation everyone has given it over the many years, you probably don’t even remember the very first time you heard it used in reference to implying one of the examples stated earlier, however your very clear on the term if used to imply to someone as a coward. Fact is the chicken was the very first to volunteer to sacrifice not only itself but its whole tree of eternity for us to eat and enjoy, we don’t keep chickens as pets we don’t appreciate the fact that no matter what color or where your from how you were raised or what you been through that more than likely you probably like chicken, even vegetarians made an exception. Everyone loves chicken, and look at its reputation slandered to the point where the unspoken word is that only colored people like it, and laughs decinigrate in the air like vapors as a racist joke was told a few decibels lower so the right person didn’t hear the wrong thing. If I called you a chicken you’d feel insulted or perhaps assume I’m trying to ridicule the last thing you would think is bravery, Noble courageous or fearless, let alone give thanks to the point where the hair on your neck would erect because even the human name for it was said out loud when every animal was lined up and the offer was said allowed to what the destiny would be for this volunteer, the wolf lowered its head and whimpered, the lion stepped back and the cheetah ran as fast as it could. All eyes were high in the sky and from what seemed came out of nowhere was a sound all the way from the floor, it was the chicken, not just for the cause not just one for the team but proudly accepting not only the role to forever be sacrificed but also to never even be loved never be considered as a pet or even respected by the same people it volunteered to die for by the very ones who even it it, the chicken stepped up with its chest out and said I will and the rest was history

To any readers I apologize I have to cut this short but I think you get my point whatever two days ago was I guess you could say I made a power move but I’d call that an understatement let’s call it a chicken move and I made things for myself very complex and difficult even more than before but I’m not afraid because I know my quality and I am durable enough for the task, don’t let the people alter the real you know to be true don’t fall into the endless pit of confusion or follow what everyone else is just because the flow of the heard is drifting in the direction that seems to be the right choice believe in yourself fuck the flow find the ones who live in against with no masters and no influence and if anything give thanks next time you see hundreds of different sections cut up and packaged in nice pretty pieces for you to enjoy when you pick up that pack of $8 boneless breast or leg quarters and wings don’t let them fool you the chicken was one of the very mightiest of all animals and don’t you even get me started on the egg💌

This has been a public service announcement from your local djinn

[snekdood]

I think some of yall are just gonna have to accept that vegans have a different philosophy than you.

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Con Man's Daughter

Posting this because there isn't enough biodad! John Constantine content.

[Masterlist]

(Part 2)

-----

I feel like this should be a Damianette story or just platonic relationship after Jon got aged-up to seventeen and Damian wanted a friend his age but doesn’t want to admit it.

So basically there is this big bad in Gotham using magic that Batman was fighting at the time and enlisted John Constantine to help out.

John realizes that the villain is using a Miraculous.

“Oh. I think I know how he gets his powers. And lucky for you, Bats, I know an expert on this special brand of magic.”

And he did the smart thing and called up Marinette who at the time was already Guardian and was looking for other lost Miraculouses like in the Treasure Hunter AU I wrote.

He calls her at a really bad time. She was in the process of being chased by the guardians of the place. Monsters and evil spirits.

“Hello, Dad. What do you need and can you do it quickly?”

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s me. How is my little cupcake up to these days?”

“You called at a bad time.” Gunshots.

“WAS THAT A GUN I HEARD? WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, YOUNG LADY?!”

“Somewhere in Japan. Getting a Miraculous. And why can’t you call me to check in on me and not ask me to help you with whatever mess you got yourself into.” More gunshots sounds and it was telling that Marinette was using a gun.

“Where did you get a gun? And don’t you have school?”

“It’s summer break. Don’t worry Maman and Papa know. Well, the fact that I am in Japan anyways.” Marinette sounded a little out of breath. Roaring and horrifying sounds at the other end. “Can we do this later?”

“As it happens, there is a villain going around Gotham with what I think is a Miraculous.”

Swears on the other end.

“Oi. Watch your fucking language, young lady.”

“How about a No and move the fuck back, old man. I am coming over right now.”

“Old man? I am not that old-” as a magic blue portal opens up in the Bat Cave.

And a red Chinese dragon comes out with someone riding it.

Its rider was a black-haired girl. She had a trench coat similar to Constantine's. I imagine her with a fedora. Like Carmen Sandiego style but not red. Sometimes red but only when she has to steal it from a museum or high security places and she leaves a name card with the name Carmen Sandiego. A sword strapped to her back and a dagger to her thigh.

She had a gun in her hand which she used to shoot the monsters as it was halfway through the portal and yelled out the spell to close it.

“Brilliant entrance but you are in lots of trouble, little lady. What were you thinking about going to another country unsupervised? And isn’t there still a butterfly problem in Paris?”

“One, I wasn’t unsupervised. I had Tikki, a billion years old being and a sort of god. Two.Well, it got boring trying to track Hawk-bitch down. And I found this legend about a guy with a Miraculous who disappeared in the temple and thought hey, more miraculous could mean another edge to defeating Moth-man.”

More bickering and John grounding Marinette who was acting very nonchalant about it.

Okay, at this point, I should say that Batman and Robin are in the background trying to make some sense.

Batman is surprised to find out that Constantine has a daughter who is also involved in magic like her Father but an apparently more specialised kind called the Miraculous. He is a little miffed that he didn’t know about John having a daughter. He did consider it weird at first that she had a slight french accent unlike her father’s Liverpool accent although she pronounced some words like he does.

He also connected some dots that she is also the Parisian heroine, Lady Rouge who Wonder Woman introduced to the League a while back and had declined to join the Young Justice or Teen Titans until everything in Paris was resolved.

Damian on the other hand was suspicious of the new arrival and came to the same conclusion as his father about the daughter thing.

Batman after a few minutes, clears his throat.

The Constantines stop arguing.

“Bonjour. Batman. Robin. Pleasure to meet you. I am Mari Constantine and yes, I am this homeless looking man’s brilliant daughter.” “Hey”

“Well, Mari. Your father thinks you can help us with this new criminal turning Gotham upside down. Literally in some cases. He said that you might be able to help us.” Batman said as he pulled up zoomed in picture of the Miraculous.

Mari looks through the Miraculous grimoire and tells them all about it and power-ups, basically the most effective thing to defeat the guy is to get the Miraculous off them. Plus a spell that would make the Miraculous ineffective if casted within a certain radius of it.

“Thank you for the information, Mari. Constantine, let’s go.”

Mari made to follow them.

“You young lady are grounded and staying here.”

“I don’t need another supervillain using the Miraculous which are my responsibility as Guardian to retrieve them for their own misuse and wreaking havoc on the city. And what if there is an akuma in Paris? I can’t go there if I am grounded in the Batcave although it is a cool place to hang out.”

“You can portal back to Paris but you are not going to follow me. Understood?”

“yes. crystal”

“Good. After me and Batsy get the Miraculous, you can do your Guardian duties.”

Damian snickers. Until Batman cut his mood short, “You are staying behind too. Robin.”

“But Father, why? I am much more capable than Constantine.”

“Hey!” Both father and daughter.

Damian is staying behind too because of the Miraculous power or other reasons and keeps an eye on Mari.

Damian stays behind and there were some protests about mari mad about having a babysitter and Damian doesn’t want to be a babysitter. Despite the two of them being around the same age.

“I got an eye on you so no funny business.”

“Okay, Dad, I am not going to have sex with Robin.” Mari said with a shit- eating grin. Robin definitely didn’t blush.

“I hate you sometimes.”

“I love you too, Dad. Go save the world. Byee.”

John eyes her suspiciously because she is not one to give up that easily usually.

He casts a spell to watch her as they leave. and which she totally knew about.

“So...I have one question.”

“Tt, ask and don’t bother me anymore.”

“Is Batman Bruce Wayne?”

Damian looks up, totally caught off guard.

“I am going to take that as a yes.”

Puts sword at her neck. “How did you find out?!”

“Opened up Google Maps and saw that we are under Wayne Manor. Connected the dots. Also I already knew when Dad made a bet with me once to find out Batman’s secret identity but he never did confirm it for me. And can you please not tell your father about this? I don’t feel like being interrogated by the Bat in the future yet.”

“Father must know about this.”

“I saw you looking at Scarlet here. An animal lover then? You can give her some belly rubs. She deserves it after helping me outrun those monsters.”

His silence was brought. To pet a dragon.

One thing after another and he ends up bringing out his pets-Jerry the turkey, Goliath the dragon-bat, Titus- and her introducing him to her other pets like a hellhound, griffin and other mythical creatures who mostly roam free but come to her when she calls for them and also the kwamis, at least the ones who came with her.

After 30 mins have passed, “So Robin how do you feel about disobeying our fathers?”

“I am in.”

“Depends. Are we going after the (villain's name) ?”

“Yes.”

Awesome montage of them getting rid of the spell John casted and flying out of the Batcave on their respective giant flying pets to the villain’s base.

Meanwhile, their fathers are not doing so well and are trapped in a death trap. John can’t say the spell because the villain made him unable to talk.

“At least, the kids are staying put.”

Cut to Damian and Mari jumping off their pets and onto the roof. Taking out the guards posted there and going into the building all sneakily and also taking out the guards that come their way.

They dropped into the room where their fathers and the villain is.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Villain starts an evil monologue about his mastermind plan to which Damian cuts it short by trying to cut him down with his katana. Mari goes to deactivate the death trap.

They are evenly matched with Damian’s training and the Miraculous.

Mari steps in as Damian was about to be killed. Taps on the shoulder of the villain and when he turns around, gives an awesome right hook that knocks him out.

Takes away the Miraculous and curses him. Wiped the dude’s memories of it.

“When I said stay in the Batcave, I meant stay behind at the Batcave. What point of being grounded, don’t you understand?”

“You mean, Oh, Mari, light of my life, my wonderful daughter, thank you for saving my ass. You are the best.’ by that, right?”

-----

Mari and Damian exchanged numbers and email addresses.

As she was about to leave the Batcave, “It’s been nice meeting you, Mr. Wayne.” and leaves with a wink.

John ‘ungrounds’ her for the look on Batman’s face.

-----

After this, Marinette and Damian become friends who bitch and vent to each other about their alter egos and various villains of their respective cities. (In codes, just in case) They also share updates about their pets and love of drawings.

They have that type of friendship where they trade favors. Mari calls Damian to Paris sometimes to help out with the akuma of the day and Damian sometimes calls her in when Bruce doesn’t let him go investigate a case so he can sneak out by magical means or as back up for when his brothers were too annoying to deal with.

It’s summer break so no missing school.

John and Bruce are aware of their friendship and some of the shenanigans the pair gets into behind their back.

-----

-----

Right. how this all started...

John and Sabine first met when the latter was still in college somewhere in France. John was tracking down a demonic entity which was targeting Sabine for some reason and she was the next target.

John saved her life and exorcised the demon. There was a heat of the moment thing and they had a one-night stand. There were a few more flings and hook-ups after that night.

And nine months later, Marinette Cheryl Cheng-Constantine was born.

When Sabine first found out, she called John to come over and he thought that it was a call for another hook-up and was very surprised to find out that it was not and that he was going to be a father.

They both like each other but do not want to be in a relationship together so they both remained as friends and John agreed after some strong-arming at the very least to meet his daughter before he goes to do his job. And pay for child support. And help Sabine during her pregnancy.

Pregnant Sabine was someone you don’t want to mess with. And John has never met a demon or anyone scarier than her.

He was at first not into meeting his child and there was a self-pity party he threw himself with how the child was going to live a bad life because he was the dad and how he destroyed every good thing in his life.

That’s why he is going to meet the baby once and leave maybe a letter and the occasional birthday present and stay out of their life. Forever.

The day Marinette was born and it took one look into her eyes for the HellBlazer to fall under the spell and all of his plans to stay out of her life to burn away.

At first, he tried. He really tried but he couldn’t do it.

Lasted 4 months before he came back, wanting to place protection spells on her and sigils around the house to keep away the forces of Heaven and Hell and other entities so they won’t use her against him as a bargaining chip.

Sabine calls him to babysit. He could have refused and Sabine would have easily found a babysitter. He moans and whines about how he is a great mage and not a bloody babysitter. Sabine retorts that it is actually called parenting since he is Marinette’s father. He grumbles but in the end, agrees.

The great John Constantine is wrapped around the little girl’s finger.

He was around for some of Marinette’s firsts. Her first word was “John”.

It made him cry. He wasn’t a good man and he doesn’t deserve someone this precious. His daughter doesn’t deserve someone like him as a father but fate made it that way and what can you do about it.

After an exhausting week of doing the usual and coming back from Hell, he saw that Sabine had sent him a video. It was Marinette taking her first steps.

Chas swears that in all the years that he has known John Constantine he has never seen the man look so happy.

------

When Tom came into the picture, John was there to take care of a toddler Marinette while Tom and Sabine went on dates.

Insert John threatening a much bigger Tom while holding a baby Marinette with wide eyes and hugging a teddy bear with the same coat as John’s. (It was something Sabine brought on a whim and to tease John when he came around.)

Tom is supportive and treats Marinette like his own flesh and blood.

John resolved to leave for good now that Tom would be there to be a father figure for Marinette.

That plan fell into the drain the moment he was going to leave for what was supposed to be the last time before Sabine pulled him back and knocked some sense into him.

His face was a big giveaway. Sabine knows that despite his claims of being a terrible father for Marinette, he was a good one and damnit she was going to make sure that Marinette would get to know her actual father.

Tom later made an awkward talk with John about how he was not going to replace John’s role as Marinette’s father.

Marinette was the flower girl at Tom and Sabine’s wedding. John was there too.

During bedtime, John would read her stories and use his magic to make it come to life. Although he would feel a little drained afterwards, it was worth it to see her smile.

Sometimes he told stories about his tamer adventures. (After cutting out some of the inappropriate bits)

------

When Marinette was about 5 or 6, Sabine was out on an errand and Tom was at home with Mari and helping her with her homework. There was a crash downstairs at the bakery. Tom went down to check it out to find John lying on the ground.

With a weak cough, he said, “Close the door. Close it.” Before losing consciousness

Tom did before a man with pitch black eyes slammed against it.

Thankfully John had installed heavy wards around the bakery when it first opened.

They held against the demon on John’s tail. Tom brought John inside and unsure of what to do, grabbed a rolling pin on the counter.

The man outside started pounding on the glass door and every time his hands touched the door, light glowed outwards, showing the invisible magic barrier around the bakery. Sparks and steams fizzled with every pound.

Despite the reddening and burns of his hands, the not-human didn’t slow down.

“ʝօɦռ....ʏօʊ ӄռօա ȶɦǟȶ ɨȶ'ֆ օռʟʏ ǟ ʍǟȶȶɛʀ օʄ ȶɨʍɛ ɮɛʄօʀɛ ɨ ɮʀɛǟӄ ȶɦʀօʊɢɦ ȶɦɛֆɛ աǟʀɖֆ. օռƈɛ ɨ ɢɛȶ ʏօʊ,” He laughs, the sound sends chills down the large man’s spine, “ȶɦɛʀɛ ǟʀɛ ֆօ ʍǟռʏ ȶɦɨռɢֆ ɨ ɦǟʋɛ քʟǟռռɛɖ ʄօʀ ʏօʊ.”

Tom knew that Marinette’s father was a con man. Come on, Master and Practitioner of the Dark Arts and Occult. But he was a good father nonetheless despite all his flaws and Sabine liked him enough so that was good enough for him.

Before today, magic was just the sleight of hands and use of fancy tools to sell the illusions. Now, with a could-be-a-demon knocking on his door to get to the father of the girl he sees as his daughter, he’s not so sure.

“Tom? Qu'est-ce qui se passe? (What’s going on?)” A little voice came from the stairs, “Dad!” Marinette padded across the floor to the body of her passed out father.

She shook him awake and there were a few soft slaps to the face.

“Dad, what’s happened?”

John mumbles, “Demon…. possessing some rich guy….. Exorcism…. Doesn’t like me very much…Don’t worry...wards going to hold.”

John manages to stand before falling down and Tom catches him before he hits the floor. He has a concussion. Tom turns to Marinette, “Go, Hide and don’t come out until It’s safe.” which she did

Unfortunately, a while later, Sabine returns from her night out and the demon upon seeing Sabine. “ɛӼƈɛʟʟɛռȶ..”

The demon possessed Sabine and the previously possessed dude hit the sidewalk with a thud.

“ɨռȶɛʀɛֆȶɨռɢ....” The voice coming out of Sabine didn’t sound like her mother which scared Marinette a lot. “օքɛռ ȶɦɨֆ ɖօօʀ օʀ,”the demon pulled a knife out of thin air, ,“ȶɦɨֆ ɮօɖʏ ɢɛȶֆ ɨȶ.”

Tom hesitated until the demon put the knife on Sabine’s neck and put enough force for a thin line of blood to be shown.

He opens the door and the demon knocks him out. Stepping over his unconscious body and looking down on it, “ʄօʀ ȶɦǟȶ, ɨ ǟʍ ɢօɨռɢ ȶօ ʟɛȶ ʏօʊ ʟɨʋɛ ʊռȶɨʟ ɨ ǟʍ ɖօռɛ աɨȶɦ ʝօɦռ, օʄ ƈօʊʀֆɛ.” and cackles. The sound was so wrong and unnerving and little Marinette tried very hard for her sobs not to be heard.

Too bad the demon had super hearing. “Come out, my little blossom. Maman is home. Why don’t you come out and give me a hug?”

It sounded so much like her mother and she nearly believed that it was her mother and not some entity in control of her body.

But she knew better from John’s stories of dealing with demons and how they would use the voice of loved ones to lure them out and into a trap. (Definitely not something one should tell as a bedtime story but Marinette was very different and had an unconventional childhood with John Constantine as her father.)

Wait...she got struck with an idea but she wasn’t sure if it would work.

Before she could do anything, the door of the cabinet she was hiding in was opened and she was dragged out.

The demon lifted her a few feet above the ground by the collar of her dress.

It heard Marinette saying something. “աɦǟȶ ǟʀɛ ʏօʊ ֆǟʏɨռɢ ƈɦɨʟɖ, ֆքɛǟӄ ʟօʊɖɛʀ?”

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.” Marinette was now screaming the words at the top of her lungs. She repeated the spell over and over again with fierce determination.

John, being his paranoid self, taught her the spell for an exorcism, just in case. Demons spared no one, not even a girl.

It screamed “NO….” as Sabine’s body contorted in strange angles before a dark shadow seemed to be dragged down into the ground. It made a desperate attempt to possess John before it was pulled away and disappeared. There was no sign that there was a demon attack.

After John woke up, he managed to piece together that his 5-years-old (Sorry 5 and a half) daughter sent a demon back to hell.

He was a very proud dad. (He was a tad worried about the consequences from this event and demons hold one hell of a grudge. He wanted his daughter to live a very safe and happy life. The bakery’s wards also need an upgrade.)

He also got the job of explaining what he actually did to Tom. And lots of reassuring.

Sabine, on one hand, was not happy that Marinette knew how to do magic. That is until John told her that he did it just in case so she can protect herself and later it was agreed that Marinette can learn some Magic spells and charms to better protect herself and when she is older, she can decide if she wants to continue or not.

----

(Part 2)

[alwek]

I didn't know yer vegan, keep er goin! And while I realize this probably isn't the place to do it, I do have thoughts about veganism that I think are different than most. A sort of solidarity in a way that people don't think of usually, I think.

Vegans are the reason I do eat meat! But not in that weird way people usually do where it's to spite the vegan or whatever (that's extremely petty, rude, and disrespectful not only to the vegans but also the meat). Because like, vegans are fucking right! The meat industry is fucked to shit, and those poor animals should never have to live in such horrible conditions. After hearing of all the horrible things the meat industry does and the disrespect those animals go through, I figured the best way to honour them would be TO eat their flesh. Have their souls and body at the very least sustain another life so the torture they go through in those farms isn't for not.

I saw how vegans want to respect the animal, and I want to do that, too. But I grew up with bush people, hunters, and gathers that grew and caught almost everything they ate. They taught me to live from the land, to show respect to what you must kill, to honour its life by treating it well in its death and wasting as few parts as possible. To me, to let those packs of meat sit and rot on the shelves, THAT is the disrespectful part.

No amount of preaching or teaching can stop an animal from already being dead. At the very least, I can honour their life and memory by savouring the flesh their tortured lives gave us. I can't just let them rot on the shelves when I was raised to believe that in order to respect a dead animal, you must use all of it you can. And I know meat farms don't use all they can. Hell, they toss perfectly good parts because they don't have a quick way to profit from them. I feel like, at the very least, if I eat that pack of ground beef, I've done something to help the soul of that animal find peace.

And so, after it was vegans who taught me the horrors of the meat farming industry, I started savouring every piece of meat I eat. Doing my best to make sure that somehow, that animal knows its life wasn't for naught, as it has fed a family for another day.

That's just how I was raised. I see vegans saying it's not right to eat the meat because of the treatment they receive, and to an extent, I agree. FUCK factory farms. I'll always buy local, especially when it's inconvenient to do so. And the whole stink they throw up by boycotting these farms DOES help! But, I guess I was just brought up in a way where I feel I'm giving the animal more respect by eating it. (Bonus points if the meat was stollen from one of the factory farm companies)

As a great woman wrote, "Eating is the exclusive privilege of the living." And I just think with that, I'm giving the animal more respect by letting it help me live on in its death than I am leaving it to rot.

I hope this isn't, like, extremely weird to say. It's just that veganism helped me see the horrible things that happen to animals, and for that, I will always be grateful, and I will always fight with them against factory farms. But they also helped me solidify my spiritual beliefes around meat and eating. And so, I dunno, feels worth saying to me.

Solidarity with opposing ideas is something I think is important. And so, I think it's important that both sides hear each others' reasons and responses to the same things. This thing being (from my impressions) the absolute horror show that meat farms are. Those poor beasts shouldn't have to live like that, not at all. One person might hear about those piss poor excuses for farms and resolve to never eat meat again. Another may hear about it and think they must make sure that animal gets respected properly somehow.

I dunno. I just think both sides to this need to get along so we can stop the torturing deaths of so many beasts. There's nothing wrong with not eating meat, and there's nothing wrong with eating it, too. You can respect the flesh your way, and I'll do it mine. I guess I just think the most important part is that we agree that these farms are fucked up.

I have lots of thoughts on the meat industry. And it's thanks to veganism that those farms get so much negative attention these days, and so, thanks to vegans for getting animals the kind of treatment they deserve.

But yeah. That's me. Hey OP if you think this is stepping over too much, let me know, and I'll delete this. Sincerely, I don't mean to do anything other than say how vegans solidified my spiritual beliefs and got me angry as balls at factory farming.

Ending note: FUCK veal, and FUCK lamb, and FUCK any other meat that kills a baby for it. The best meat comes from a cow a year away from natural death, or the deer shot near my property that feeds us all summer. Always buy from the local butcher if you can, and to all my meat eaters out there. Please, I'm begging you, shut the fuck up about peoples choice to not eat meat. Sure, the preaching vegan is a bit strange (i say knowing full well that I'm the preaching carnivore rn), but you become the asshole when using them as an excuse to do petty shit.

tumblr as a whole has been more outright actively aggressive towards me being a vegan than all other social media platforms combined and it kinda fucking sucks

[swordgayist]

cultural appropriation in ATLA (hinduism edition)

i’m sure there’s already a ton of posts about this, but whatever, i’m still making one idc. 

ATLA’s cultural appropriation, everyone knows about it, the white people don’t speak about it, and the asian and indigenous people get ignored. we know the cycle. but i wanted to come here and highlight some of the most prominent examples of ATLA abusing hinduism, as i am kinda sorta hindu (i was raised in a hindu household, i go to chinmaya mission, that kinda shit). i might forget some things so keep that in mind.

this is gonna be divided into 3 main sections, since there are different ways that they disrespect hinduism that i don’t wanna lump together.

and i’d say i know a lot about hinduism but that doesn’t make me an expert, obviously, so if other hindus have anything to add and/or correct then please do !! and if anyone else wants to share how their cultures were appropriated then please do that as well !!

so let’s get started shall we?

appropriating hinduism

1) the avatar

we’ll start with the most obvious example: the avatar itself

i know that there are parts of the avatar mythos that are taken from other cultures as well but the idea of the avatar itself is primarily from hinduism.

basically in hinduism, the term dashavatara refers to the 10 reincarnations of lord vishnu (the god of preservation), with avatar(a) meaning form or incarnation in sanskrit, and das(a) meaning ten. it was said that whenever the world was out of balance, lord vishnu would come down to earth in a certain form to restore balance. Each reincarnation is considered a different life with a different story. the avatars of lord vishnu are often considered the saviors of the world.

so basically, the central idea of the show and the actual name of the show is largely based on hinduism.

2) chakras

many different indian religions have a concept of chakras (chakra meaning wheel or circle in sanskrit), but hinduism is the one that primarily preaches the system of seven chakras, the version used in ATLA.

chakras connect the physical body to the ‘subtle’ body (referring more to the spirit and the psyche) by connecting parts of the body to aspects of the mind. the idea is that through different forms of steady meditation you can manipulate the different chakras and allow the pure flow of energy through the body.

the whole idea of chakras on ATLA is that aang has to unblock them all to let the cosmic energy flow through him so that he can go into the avatar state at will. so yeah, pretty much that whole idea was taken from hinduism.

3) terminologies

these are just a few terms that were taken from hinduism. i’m pretty sure there are more that i can’t think of right now but yeah.

“agni” kai 

i’ll be honest i don’t know where the ‘kai’ part is from, i don’t think it’s from hinduism but if it is well fuck me i guess.  ‘agni’ in hinduism is the god of fire, so the creators used it in ‘agni kai’, the name for a firebending duel.

“bumi”

this is in reference to the hindu word for ‘earth’, which is bhoomi. this is also in reference to our goddess of earth, bhoomi devi. also this doesn’t really bother me but i wonder if the creators knew that bhoomi is a name typically used for women (as are most hindi names ending in ‘i’/‘ee’).

in general, concepts like having multiple complex gods (the spirits) who are capable of good and evil and the reincarnation cycle are prominent in a lot of asian cultures, including (and arguably primarily) hinduism.

mocking hinduism

now we get into the mockery of hinduism in ATLA, because it is very much there.

1) whoever the fuck that baboon guy in the spirit world was

now what the fuck was this.

i mean i wouldn’t say this is the most egregious example of them making fun of brown people but lord why did this even need to be there? this random guy from the spirit world has an indian accent ? and is fervently chanting ‘om’ for some reason, and it’s clearly meant to be seen as comical. also portraying brown people as monkeys....... really.

2) combustion man/sparky sparky boom man

when rewatching ATLA in 2019 i actually had no idea that this was a thing, because the last time i had watched it was as a kid and i didn’t finish it.

so lord was i in for a surprise when i saw...

now... now what.

if you didn’t know, combustion man’s ‘third eye’ is designed to replicate the hindu god of destruction, lord shiva. right down to the vibhuti on his forehead (referring to the three line markings around the third eye).

in hinduism, lord shiva’s third eye is used to reduce people to ashes, though as far as i can recall, not very frequently. the primary significance of the third eye is that it represents the ability of higher spiritual thought and higher consciousness.

the ATLA writers take the ACTUAL significance of the third eye, throw it out the window, and then take its destructive abilities to make a super duper cool and dangerous new firebending technique.

and if that wasn’t bad enough, the actual person who uses this technique, and is meant to emulate a GOD who is PRAISED, is a scary, burly, half metal man who is a villain and an assassin. not to mention the design of his facial hair replicates that super duper scary “terrorist” depiction of brown people, particularly of muslims, that white people are so thoroughly terrified of for no reason. 

this is a parody of a god, and they portrayed him as this terrifying, maniacal fucking assassin who, along with p’li, the combustion bender from LOK, is constantly referred to as a “third-eyed freak”. i’ve made this analogy before and i’ll do it again, this is like making jesus into a hitman.

now onto my favorite example...

3) guru pathik

ah, this motherfucker.

i don’t really have any problems with him as a character, i mean hell, must’ve taken a fuck ton of patience to handle aang’s “why would choose cosmic energy over katara” bullshit.

but we all know it, we see it plain as day, don’t even try to deny it.

“guru” literally just means teacher or guide, so i don’t really know why pathik needed to be referred to as “guru” so distinctively from aang’s other teachers and guides, but that’s just extremely trivial compared to all the other issues with this character.

first of all what is this character design? what is he even wearing? if they’re trying to replicate the clothes of swamis and priests and stuff this is already wrong, realized people don’t dress like this. and why the fuck does he have an indian accent? and why was this indian accent done by a non indian (brian george)?

once again, the poor but extremely heavy indian accent is clearly meant to be mocking, if it wasn’t, they wouldn’t’ve gone out of their way to get a non indian person to DO an indian accent, and instead they would’ve just gotten an actual indian person to play the role. 

and oh yeah, the onion and banana juice. because hindus just eat weird shit right.

whether it’s actually weird or not, the show certainly portrays it as weird. and as far as i know no hindu actually fucking drinks onion and banana juice.

ironic because brown people can absolutely destroy white people in cooking. but i digress.

i know what you’re all waiting for. because the guru apparently didn’t have enough fun with guru pathik, so they just had to come back to him in book 3:

where do i begin.

so this is obviously john o’bryan’s super funny and hilarious depiction of pathik as a hindu god.

usually when a god has multiple arms it’s to carry an array of things, from flowers to weapons to instruments, and one hand is typically free to bless devotees (ie. goddess durga and lord vishnu respectively):

but of course white people see this as weird and so they make fun of it, hence guru pathik having multiple arms just flailing about aimlessly (save for the two that are being used to carry the aforementioned onion and banana juice).

then there’s the whole light behind pathik’s head which is usually depicted in drawings of hindu gods to show that they are celestial.

also what the fuck is he holding? is that supposed to be a veena? because this is what a veena looks like:

and i assume the reason this was added was to mock the design of goddess saraswathi, who carries a veena:

but that right there in the picture of pathik looks more like a tambura than a veena. 

and it also just kinda looks like a banjo?

but i guess the animators just searched up “long indian instrument” and slapped it on there. actually no, that’s giving them too much credit, they probably didn’t search it up at all. 

and then the actual scene is pathik singing crazily about chakras tasting good or something while playing the non-veena and it’s all supposed to be some funky crazy hallucination that aang is having due to sleep deprivation. just some crazy dream, just as crazy as talking appa and momo sparring with swords or tree-ozai coming to life.

our gurus and swamis and sadhus and generally realized people are very respected in hinduism, they’re people we look up to and honor very much. and our GODS are beings that we literally worship. and the writers just take both and make caricatures out of them for other white people to laugh at.

4) other shit

before we move to the next portion i just wanna mention there are also smaller backhanded jabs that i can’t really remember now, but one example was when zuko was all “we’ll be sure to remember that, guru goody goody”. or when a character would meditate and say “om” only when the meditation is supposed to be portrayed as comical or pointless. or in bitter work when sokka was rambling on about karma. small things like that. but moving on.

south asian representation, or lack thereof

now i finally get to the “losing” hinduism part. by this i mean the lack of actual representation there is of south asians (the region where hinduism is primarily practiced) despite the fact that hinduism plays such a big role in the show’s world design.

i think it’s safe to say that broadly the main cast consists of aang, katara, sokka, zuko, toph, azula, iroh, mai, ty lee, and suki. 

a grand total of none of these characters are south asian. the writers don’t even attempt to add any south asian main characters. 

there are characters with dark skin, like haru and jet, but a) they’re not confirmed to be south asian and don’t have any south asian features or south asian names, b) they’re side characters, so they don’t count as representation, and c) even if they were south asian and main characters, jet wouldn’t even count because he’s portrayed as a terrorist.

the ONLY truly south asian character we get is fucking guru pathik. so yeah. not representation.

i don’t get how the creators of this show rip off of hinduism (among many other south asian cultures they rip off of), mock indians, and then don’t even have the decency to HAVE a main character who is south asian.

i’ve never gotten a chance to compile all this, and this definitely isn’t all the creators have done, but i hope this was somewhat informative.

[pascalpanic]

hi i love ur writing so much!! can i request something with mutual pining, denial of feelings, idiots-to-lovers, hurt/comfort/angst , maybe some jealousy and fluff and smut if you want i just need something really angsty with javier peña, frankie m or din djarin?? tysmm!!!!!

The Bantha (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Being an animal lover does not work well with the plans the Tuskens and Mos Pelgo citizens have to kill the krayt dragon. A retelling of S2E1 of the Mandalorian: The Marshal.

W/C: 4.4K

Warnings: talk of animals being harmed/dying, lots of arguing and angst, Vanth kind of is gross bc I hate his character aha, we respect the Tuskens in this house and use proper terminology for them, language, tiniest mentions of alcohol

A/N: Not gonna lie, the idea for this fic came to me pretty quickly but it took me a long time to properly figure it out. Lots of drafting and editing so THANK YOU to my beta readers, you’re all the best ever!! Anon, I’m so sorry this took so long but I hope it’s worth it!

Of all the dilemmas you’d expected to face as you traveled the galaxy with a tiny, Force-sensitive, 50-year-old toddler and a Mandalorian with the emotional capacity of the earlier-mentioned child, the last one you’d ever predicted you’d face had to be the challenge of ridding a tiny desert town of a giant sand beast that eats their banthas.

“You are so fucking dense,” you groan as you and Din settle on a speeder bike, the little green child tucked in a wrap on your chest. “You’re a Mandalorian, a battle-worn bounty hunter with a kill streak probably in the thousands, and some random man asks for your help and not only do you fucking freely give it, you decide to help them kill the sand dragon terrorizing their town.” You groan to him, rubbing your temples.

Din nods and starts up the speeder bike. “You don’t need to summarize what we just lived through,” he grunts and you wrap an arm around him.

“I do, because I need to clarify that your dumb ass would do that. Sometimes I really do think you don’t have a brain under that beskar bucket,” you shake your head, trying to keep the anger that you’re feeling. If you’re not careful, it’ll turn to adoration and love.

You’ve been battling your feelings for Din for a while now, trying to force the giddiness bubbling in your chest deep down inside. The man is everything you look for in a partner: strong, committed, tall, protective. He’s good with the child, adorably cuddly and loving. He’s even funny sometimes, making dry-humored remarks around the ship.

“Excuse me for caring,” the man grumbles through the modulator. He’s strong and warm beneath your arms, the Tatooine heat making the beskar warm like your bunk in the morning when you don’t want to get up. Stop it, stop it you remind yourself. This is not the time to be enraptured by the Mandalorian man’s body.

That’s yet another trait you love about him- how caring he is. He’s a bounty hunter, a warrior by oath who never shows his face and probably knows millions of ways to kill someone with his bare hands. Yet he cares. He raises the child well; he even raised him alone before you came into the picture. He puts himself in harm’s way for innocent people on the daily, all because he simply thinks it’s right.

You take a sip from your water canteen and hand it to the baby on your chest so he can drink too. “No, I will not excuse you for caring when you’re doing stupid shit, Din,” you scowl and cap the canteen as two three-fingered green hands give it back to you. “You came here- we came here, our family did, to find Mandalorians. There are none.”

“This man will give me his beskar if we help,” Din hisses, revving the engine of the speeder, non-verbally telling Vanth to get moving. The man is dawdling along, a few meters away, as he packs his bike up.

“What do you need it for, huh?” You ask him, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “I’m not a Mandalorian. This little shit doesn’t need beskar. You have a full set of armor already.”

“Beskar belongs to me, to my people, by my Creed,” he says, articulating himself with his hands too. It’s a habit he’s picked up from you. “You wouldn’t ask a Tatooinian to deprive themselves of the moisture they farm.”

You put your face in your hands and groan. “No, you’re right, because they fucking need water to live. You do not need beskar to survive, Din!” You shout, getting off the speeder bike. “And please, forget I called us a family. We’re clearly just a bounty hunter and his… assistant, whatever the fuck I am, and some little kid we picked up for the ride.” You stalk off towards the building.

“Where are you going?” He asks as you turn.

Cobb is standing to the side somewhere, and you approach him. “You got another speeder? I don’t want to put up with him for the ride.”

The man chuckles and claps your shoulder. “Sure thing, pretty thing.” He wanders off and returns about a minute later with another speeder. Din watches the two of you in annoyance, visible from his rigid body language. “Hop on. You know how to drive?” You nod once and he heads to his own speeder. “I’ll lead. You two follow.”

-

The ride is uneventful at first. Cobb Vanth tells the two of you the story of how he came to be the town marshal, and Din nods his silent comprehension when the man in beskar looks over at him. Most of the stories are aimed at you, desperate to crack your stony anger. It doesn’t work. You stare straight ahead, daring to break your frown into a neutral expression when the little green baby coos excitedly at the wind in his ears.

There are valleys and caverns to navigate through, nimbly ducking and weaving on your speeder bike. The kid loves it, squealing happily when you fly over a bump or turn a sharp corner. It’s a joyride to him.

When Din and Vanth suddenly stop your ride, you panic, holding the child close against your chest. From your holster, you grab your weapon and stand next to the two men. The growling noises are revealed to be massiffs, huge dog-like lizards. You squeal in delight, immediately dropping to your knees and summoning the beast in Tusken.

“What in the hell is she doin’?” Vanth mutters to Din as the big animal comes bounding toward you.

“She’s always like this with animals. Thinks they’re all big puppies,” Din rolls his eyes but can’t help himself: he smiles beneath his helmet as the beast licks your face and you scratch its sides.

You’re such a wonderful person, Din sighs, even though he’s mad at you. You’ve always been amazing with other species, like massiffs and the little green child strapped to your chest. You’re so intelligent too: speaking seemingly endless languages.

“They are big puppies!” You coo and press a kiss to the forehead of one massiff. Another finds Din, who also bends down to give it scratches and attention. “Green bean, look!” You tell the child and put out his hand for the massiff to lick. “See? They’re our friends,” you tell him, admiring the way the little green child giggles at the scaly skin.

From around a corner, a Tusken appears, then several. You stand and lower your weapon, speaking to them first in their native language. “We mean no harm. You have beautiful massiffs,” you tell them then turn to Din and Vanth. “Drop the weapons.”

“Are you crazy?” Vanth shouts.

“We are here to put an end to the krayt dragon,” you explain to them in their language. “Your assistance and knowledge would certainly help us. You want it gone too, yes?”

They affirm you that it’s a yes, and you nod back at the men. You know Din understands. “They’re willing to help if you’ll stop being a douchebag.” Vanth starts to talk but you hold up a hand and cut him off. “I know, I know. We can strike a deal. Are you willing?”

Din’s heart is nearly exploding. In any other timeline, he’d be the one conducting negotiations, using his threat as a Mandalorian to run the show. But here you are, with your gentle nature, making deals and completing them through cooperation and kindness. It’s hard to speak in a soft tone when speaking Tusken, yet you can do it. All with a baby strapped to your chest. Maker, Din thinks, he might be in love with you.

Vanth sighs a few moments later. “Why the hell not?”

-

Din talks with the Tuskens for a while at the camp, planning and negotiating as night falls and the air starts to get cold. To entertain the child, you spend time with the banthas, brushing their fur and letting the baby get exposed to the animals.

The kid loves them. He coos happily as he strokes their thick fur, giggling as one of them gives him a kiss and covers him in slime. You wash him off and return, quietly talking with the Tuskens caring for the creatures.

You’ve taken a liking to them. They’re gentle and soft, like big lumbering puppies, really. They moo when you brush their fur just right, let their eyes slip shut when you scratch them between the eyes. You’ve always had a soft spot for animals, like Din said earlier.

Cobb likes you. That much is clear from the way he finds you when he’s not working with Din and the Tuskens, bringing you food and water as you and the child mind your business. He’s overly flirtatious, to the point of annoyance. He’s rude and crude about the Tuskens, calling them words you’d never use to describe a human.

Politely excusing yourself, you allow the child to run with some of the other Tuskens’ children and spot a silver-plated man sitting by the fire.

“Vanth is such a goddamn xenophobe,” you grumble as you sit down next to the fire with Din, the child off playing with some Tusken children. He’d ranted about the Tuskens as you rode with them, luckily in Basic so that the people couldn’t understand him.

“Thought you liked him,” Din says and cocks his head. “He certainly likes you.”

You roll your eyes and sip the canteen of water, looking at the crackling fire. “Those things are not mutually exclusive,” you chuckle, looking over at him. “What, are you jealous, tin can?” You tease and knock on his beskar pauldron.

“In your dreams, cyar’ika,” he teases. It’s clear to him that whatever tension had been between the two of you earlier has dissipated, enough for him to steal the water flask from your hand and pass it to the child as he toddles past.

“I was drinking that, you fucking bantha,” you laugh and smack him on an unarmored part of his arm. The Tatooinian desert gets cold at night, you find, and you pull into yourself a little more from the cold.

Din unclips his cape and drapes it over your shoulders, tucking it in beneath where your arms press against your ribs so that it wraps tight to your body. “Hm. You do have a heart under there,” you tease and sigh, naturally leaning against Din and resting your head on his shoulder pauldron.

“So it’s been said,” he nods and even dares to rest his head on top of yours. Through the bare spots in his beskar, he can feel the way your body radiates warmth into the chilly night. You spot a little green head toddling past again, much slower than the other children thanks to his tiny legs, and Din scoops him up.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly, the roar of the Tuskens’ conversations creating a soft hum around you. “For what I said, when I yelled at you. You’re right. You really are just caring for them.”

He nods. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m more sorry for saying we aren’t a family. I mean, we are, right? Not that we’re like, a couple or anything,” you say hurriedly, your voice low as you stumble over your words. “But you and this little womp rat…” you muse as you scratch the baby’s little green head. “You are my family. That much is clear to me.”

Din nods once more. “I agree.”

You smile up at him. “What’s going on under that bucket, huh?”

He turns, looking off. “Just going over the plans for how we’re going to get that krayt dragon.”

“Ooh, share,” you ask, taking one of his hands and lacing through his glove-covered fingers. “I didn’t mean it when we said all of this for some banthas, you know. I’ve really fallen in love with them lately.”

Din is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t answer. “Din?”

He knows you’re going to hate him for this. Your big heart, your animal-loving, sweet talking kindness is not going be okay with this, but he has to tell you the truth. “We’re going to have to sacrifice some of the banthas for this mission to work.”

“What?” You exclaim, dropping his hand. “You can’t possibly do that.”

“We have to. We need to lure the dragon.”

“Do it some other way!” You frown, looking over at the big soft desert cows. “Seriously, please, Din.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “They’re not sentient.”

“But they can feel!” You exclaim again, standing. “Fuck this. Why don’t you sacrifice yourself to the krayt dragon and see how that feels?” You shout, storming off. You’re aware it’s childish, but you stomp to your tent and lie down. You close your eyes and hope Din doesn’t come to find you.

-

Of course you didn’t mean it. Of course you didn’t want Din to sacrifice himself to the krayt dragon. So why is he doing it? Why are you on your knees, screaming to the sky that he did exactly what you said?

You’d been avoiding him since that night, since you showed vulnerability and subsequently returned to anger towards the man. You’d wanted to apologize, but you couldn’t get over the sacrificing of the animals for the cause. You just couldn’t.

Din had flown straight into the sand dragon’s mouth, just seconds ago, and is now deep inside its bowels, you’re sure. You clutch the baby to your chest and wail, agonized and terrified. Vanth stands at your side, a hand resting on your shoulder as you wheeze and sob.

But this is Din. He must have a plan.  He has to have a plan; he’s a battle-worn warrior and you’ve never seen him lose a fight. You’d stormed off before you could hear the rest of his plans the other night- maybe this was part of it. But the way Vanth stares at the dragon in terror makes you think that maybe it isn’t. Maybe Din just really fucked it up. You set the little green kid in his cradle and stand, sniffling and clinging to the metal sphere as if it’s your last lifeline to Din.

Suddenly, there’s a burst of green goo and out flies a shining silver rocket: it’s Din. “Oh thank the fucking Maker,” you shout as he lands not far from your small group, the wailing and dying sand beast behind him.

He’s covered in slime, but you’ve never been so happy to see the man. You rush to him and throw your arms around him, not giving a single fuck as you jump on him. “Please, never fucking do that again,” you wheeze into his cape, getting yourself covered in slime.

The hug is not comfortable. Din is all beskar where you want to feel his strong body, but it’s all worth it when he wraps his arms around you too. You’re crying, he knows it, and he knows just why. “I didn’t do it because you said it. You know that, right?”

You let go of him, sniffling and wiping your eyes. “Yeah. I was just so scared- oh Maker, Din, I can’t fucking lose you,” you admit, freely crying now. “I love you, I really do, and I can’t-“

“How?”

You look at him in confusion.

“How do you love me?”

This damn man. He’s full of surprises, just getting literally eaten alive by a krayt dragon, and now he’s asking you for a full emotional confession. You’re still reeling from the shock, but the fact that he’s there is enough. You don’t care that Cobb is definitely listening over your shoulder. “Every way. All of them. Romantic, friendship, family. You feel like my home and I want to be with you.” No better time than now, you suppose, to admit this all.

Din walks a step closer. “Romantic. Huh.”

“I hate that fucking helmet,” you admit, trying to deflect the emotion between the two of you. “I can never see your face. Can’t know what you’re thinking, your tone, your-“

Din cuts you off. “We ride back to the village and clean up. Meet me in the home as the suns set.”

What that means, you have no clue, but you nod. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” you murmur, putting a hand on the cut-out cheek of his helmet.

-

The town rejoices when you come back, shouting and celebrating over the dragon’s death and the plentiful meat that came with the creature. You’d joined in the reverie, taking a shot of spotchka and chanting along to a Tatooinian call-and-response they’d started. It was wonderful, really, and you and the little green thing were the stars. They admired the little green thing, cooing over him. You were proud to stand there as his mother.

The party died as the suns set. Din was notably absent from the hubbub, preferring to be alone as usual. You and the kid talked with the villagers, but as the suns started to sink, you excused yourself and found your way to the spare home you and Din each had rooms in.

Vanth and the women had taken the baby when you told them you were going to talk with Din. Not that it was hard: they all loved the little beast, showered him with affection. It was practically a competition over who got to play with him most.

The building has a warm glow as you wander over to it, wrapping your arms around yourself. The night has become cold now that the two harsh suns have sunk below the horizon, and it’s a relief to open the door to the home and feel the warmth radiating from a fireplace inside.

You find Din staring out of a window on the back, watching the endless wind sweep across the sand dunes, a dark sky contrasting the golden ground. Just his silhouette is visible, black against the deep blue. “Hi,” you say quietly as you walk in, the worn floorboards creaking beneath your feet no matter how deliberately you step. “Glad to see you got cleaned up.”

The man tilts his head in an obvious eye roll, even through the helmet. The slime was disgusting, although Din’s adoptive son had seemed to enjoy the gooey texture, as little ones are prone to. “I almost died and you’re already back to the sarcasm.”

“It’s called a coping mechanism,” you laugh gently and place a hand on his shoulder. There’s no beskar there, just soft fabric warmed by his body. It makes you shiver; even in the safety of the Crest, Din never takes off the armor. You wonder why it’s gone. Maybe to clean it?

Din’s quiet for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your fingers splayed over his shoulder in such an affectionate gesture. “You know how much I trust you, don’t you?” He asks and the black visor turns toward you, admiring what’s visible of your face in the moonlight. Your eyes glimmer and he admires them, the color he’s always loved.

You nod and smile just a little, cheeks growing rounder with the movement. “Of course.” He’s trusted you with his son, the most important thing to him in the galaxy. There’s one clear gesture even now: the absence of the beskar from his form. Maker, he’s broad, shoulders just as wide as with the metal.

He nods and shuts the window’s shutters, allowing even less light in before turning to you. There’s just a soft glow in the room, outlining the shape of the helmet and his shoulders. You can’t see any detail, just the shape. He walks over towards the long comfortable seating in the middle of the room and you instinctively follow, standing in front of it and stopping when he stops, facing him. His hands find your shoulders and his fingertips brush down your arms until they find yours. “Take off my helmet.”

“What? No,” you exclaim, frowning even though he can’t see it.

“Can you see anything?” He asks, a hand gesturing, an even darker shadow through the already murky visibility.

“No.”

“My Creed says you cannot see my face. Not that I can’t remove the helmet.”

You gulp hard, your fingers lacing through his. They’re bare. You’ve never felt them before. Often you’ve wondered if they’re calloused and tough from his work, soft from being hidden beneath the soft leather for all those years, or somewhere in between. They do fall into that in between, but they’re warm and strong and large, even without the leather casing them.

“I can’t do that to you,” you shudder, squeezing his fingers. “It’s the very thing about you, that you can’t take it off,” you start to ramble. You want to, desperately, but there’s no turning back now. If you feel his face, if you’re even so lucky as to kiss him, you’ll never be able to get enough of it. You’ll be subjected to an eternity of longing, even more than you’re yearning now.

“I want you to,” he breathes, his beskar-covered forehead falling against yours. “Please, cyare.”

“Why don’t you hate me?” You ask, your voice straining. You need to keep stalling, need to keep pushing it off or you’re actually going to do it. “I’m so mean to you. All the time,” you point out to him. You do it to keep him away, but he’s persistent. He never seems to care. “All we do is argue.”

“I may not be able to use the Force like the kid,” he mumbles, bringing one hand up to cup your face. “But I can sense your feelings. You don’t hide them well.”

“Din,” you plead, biting your lip and closing your eyes to prevent the tears that are threatening to well in them. “You can’t do this.”

“I can, and I want to.”

“Why are you so fucking patient with me when I’m only ever a bitch to you?” You practically wail, half annoyed and half honored. “You’re such a good man, Din. You don’t deserve someone shitty like me. I’ve got no hunting skills, I’m too stubborn, I’m mean and-”

He stops you by lifting your hands, setting them on either side of his helmet. “You can’t see me, so it doesn’t break the Creed. I want you to do this, because I want you.” He’s eternally blunt, but in this moment you can’t tell if it’s breaking your heart or warming it. “I love you too. Please. Take it off.”

“This is your last fucking chance, Djarin,” you tell him with a wavering voice.

“Cyare.”

“Okay,” you nod and take a deep breath. Din unlatches the little bit at the bottom that keeps it sealed against his head, and there’s a soft rush of air. Your hands grip either side and you slowly lift it off. Din takes it once it’s gone and rests it on the plush seat.

Your hands are drawn to his face like you’re being pulled on a string, your skin prickling as you feel the stubble along his chin and jaw. Your fingers trace his face for a few moments, exploring the new terrain. His cheeks feel hot, and his lips make you shiver again with how soft they are. Swallowing hard, you dare to look at his silhouette, noticing his hair is mostly matted down from the helmet. “What color are your eyes, Din?”

“Brown.”

You smile at that, and you rest your head against his shoulder, your hands dropping to your sides. His arms encircle you and it feels perfect, like you were meant to be like this for all of eternity and it took you long enough. “Of course they are.”

He chuckles at that and presses a kiss into your head, his hands finding your waist. “I did take this off for a reason.”

You lift your head, looking at his just-visible shape. “Really? I don’t know what you mean,” you flirt.

He’s silent. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, absolutely certain. “May I kiss you?”

The words are ever blunt, just like Din. “Yes, you bantha,” you tease, but the laughter is gone as his hands find your face again.

Just like that, his lips are on yours, radiating heat and love and it immediately tops the feeling of his arms around you. You gasp, not expecting him to do it so quickly, but your lips quickly meld to his and you sigh in content.

You stay like that for a while, hands traveling each other’s heads and necks and shoulders and sides as you kiss. He’s so warm and strong, his muscles just as sculpted as the indestructible metal that covers him. He’s so human.

After a bit, Din breaks away and presses his forehead to yours once more. He doesn’t speak, just rests there, his hands on your waist. His breath mingles with yours. For once, you’re speechless, unsure of what you can say back. The sarcasm has been stripped from your body like the beskar from Din’s.

“I better put the helmet back on,” he murmurs.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, tucking your face into the curve of his neck. You sit on the couch and he follows, desperate not to lose your touch. “Just… we’ll stay like this.”

He nods. He can’t say no when you kiss his neck feather-lightly, when your skin is pressed to his like this. He hasn’t had contact like this in years. He’ll prolong it as long as he can.

You do stay like that, relaxed and curled into each other. His arm wraps around you and you curl into a ball, nestled into his side. It’s been a long day for Din, you know, but the depth of it occurs to you as his breathing slows and his muscles relax.

He’s fallen asleep in your arms. You press a soft kiss to his neck and set a timer on the wrist-comm you’re wearing, so that you’ll both wake while it’s still dark in the room. For now, he deserves his rest. His face nuzzles into your hair, and he gives a soft sigh in his sleep. Yes, this is exactly what the beskar warrior needed: rest and you.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles

[mayaree-darling]

For some reason i can see sukuna laughing his ass off if his fav sorcerer be having a conversation with a special grade like. Curse: "Why you not catching these hands?!!!" And s/o goes like: "you not throwing them right!" Altho he might never see them as his equal, im sure immortals can appreciate mortals with a specific sass.

Gonna take this chance to empty out my inbox and I put off answering you long enough. So I'm sorry for making you wait and I hope this headcanon post makes up for it haha Also, yOU AINT THROWING THEM RIGHT SKSKSKSKS

Sukuna and a Sassy Reader (Crack Headcanons)

Warning: Swearing

definitely agree that this guy has the greatest time when he hears your little quips

like come on man

bro has an immortal life and he’s seen some shit but 90% of the time it’s probably mostly boring

a sassy little sorcerer who has the time to be sarcastic in the middle of a battle is definitely on his list of Things That Are Amusing (tm)

may not like it when you do it to him but everyone else is fair game 

like if you were there when he incarnated 

“Where are the women and children?” 

“Wherever you’re not, asshole”

“???”

do you regret your smart mouth

of course you do 

but it’s always too late when you think that

you live, thankfully enough, or else we wouldn’t have a scenario

he slowly gets used to it while he’s shotgunning for yuuji

like he realizes you just forget you have the ability to shut up at times

and it carries over to battle sometimes

a lot of times

always

“Ey, Mt. Fuji Wannabe. Maybe if you were as tall as your name sake, you’d actually land a blow on me. But guess life ain’t always fair like that. Can you even reach my shoulders? Need a stepping stool?”

“I’M GOING TO BURN YOU TO A CRISP, BRAT!”

“Ooohh be careful not to pull a muscle, old man.”

you really should shut up

but who’s gonna tell you that when you get the job done regardless?

and if you have the time to make quick retorts to things, then that means you’re still okay 

not to mention, it’s always comedy gold for Sukuna when you’re around

like he just sits up in attention on top of his throne when you’re in the general vicinity

legit the whole “oh this gonna be good” vibes

watches you like a damn sitcom

he’d be eating popcorn or something if he could

doesn’t even matter if you’re in a fight or not, that’s just an added bonus

“How you doing?”

(Yuuji) “Uh, good I think? My fingers are broken, though.”

“Better your fingers than your face. That would’ve been a waste.”

Sukuna’s not sure if that was a compliment for him, too

since it’s his body too and the same face doesn’t that mean

nevermind

bet he does that thing where you’re watching some shitty soap opera or something and you agree with whatever the character does like you’re with them watching the drama unfold

COMMENTARY I FORGOT YOU CALL IT COMMENTARY

“Why aren’t my attacks hitting you? What have you done to me?”

“How ‘bout you actually try harder? I can’t only be the only one making an effort to make this fight interesting.”

Sukuna, popping open a cold one with his buffalo skulls: “Yeah, fucking tell ‘em, (Y/N). It’s been ten whole minutes and all he’s done is knock out the brat and throw five punches.”

anyways, its always a grand time when you open your mouth and talk shit

Sukuna’s definitely having a grand time

＝＝✿＝＝｜✧••❀••✧｜＝＝✿＝＝

✨ Masterlist ✨

Taglist:💛@anime-allover​ 💛@snowaterfall💛@tojisbigtiddiesworm💚@nakachuchu💚@diesekimo💚@yugiohhetaliadork❤️@sofylatte ❤️ @mrdash-dine

🌙 Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.

[grape-juice-explosion-murder]

Im going to actually take the time to respond to this because i thought it was interesting enough. None of this is really any sort of personal attack and if It might be easier for you to read it, to consider my responses to be outward statements to the internet as a whole and your post just being a prompt for me to respond to.

First of all i cannot comment on hirokoshi himself because i don’t know him as a person or how he treats real people but drawing fictional characters in perverted/sexual scenarios will never be morally wrong or an actual example of a persons actions or wants in reality. With that logic all the people who like murderer characters actually murder people. Hannibal fans actually want to eat people. It’s illogical and a moot point. THE WAY SOMEONE TREATS REAL PEOPLE WILL ALWAYS MATTER MORE THAN WHATEVER FICTIONAL CONTENT THEY CREATE OR CONSUME IS. I think half of what the guy says and does when it comes to sexual stuff and his characters is weird but it’s not a comment on his moral character.

But yes Criticisms of over-sexualisation in anime and manga is respectable a d understandable but MHA isn’t really the one to be having this conversation about, as the VAST majority of “sexualisation” is played for comedy and/or has an explainable reason in canon- such as the hero costumes. Like most of it is just… stuff teenagers do, even some (SOME NOT ALL, OR MOST. SOME) of the stuff mineta says and does is just a weird horny teen boy puberty shit. I know internet fiction purists don’t want to hear this but… teenagers aren’t inherently asexual. They do sexual shit, they get into sexual situations, and theres nothing wrong with portraying that in FICTION.

But the biggest thing that made me want to respond to this and i know it was a single line but.… Mineta does actually face consequences. I don’t know if you’ve actually paid any amount of attention to the show/manga but he NEVER gets away with anything he does and no one except Denki ever excuses it (and often Sero joins in until he takes it too far). He gets slapped, tied up, pushed, thrown, kicked, told off, everything EVERY TIME. the story never once tries to portray what he does as “right” its always explicitly wrong. Being played for comedy ≠ being shown as an okay thing to do.

Mineta saying that thing to eri, man yeah its a weird as fuck thing to say but… it’s literally a thing ppl say. Its just a compliment to the kid, like personally i think its cringey as fuck and needs to stop but majority of the time when someone says it they mean it like “wow youre gonna be so handsome/pretty when you grow up, you should be proud!” And not “i want to fuck you. I cant wait until its socially/legally acceptable for me to fuck you.” Personally i think mineta was too socially stupid to think it wouldn’t come off the wrong way. People def misunderstood it which is 100% the fault of mineta being the one to say it, when, at the time, his character was one to say that sort of thing with a literal sense. if anyone else had said it the fandom would have recognised it as just that weird thing people say and see it as the joke it was lets be real.

I think hagikure cover is weird as a cover but its a very pretty picture, people are so weird about it but by this point you know my opinion on sexualising anime characters. It was def not the right choice and should have stayed a random bit of extra art.

I think the sexualisation being toned down is more about the story’s tone itself changing rather than criticism, tho there was def changes made to fit it. The characters dont have enough time to be horny with everything that was going on in the story, and horikoshi probably realised the story came off better without it. Mineta probably has gotten revisions due to fan reception, but it feels more like he was always intended to change and horikoshi just rushed it and never really explained it other than mina hypnotising him or whatever the hell she did.

Mineta was never a bad person, he was just genuine, and socially ignorant. But even while he was openly sexualising women he never came of as sexist, at least to me, he has a respect for female pro heros as much as he finds them attractive, and consistently takes his female classmates seriously on the battlefield. Like yes he sometimes manipulates a situation to benefit himself (which, again, always ends with him being punished for it) but he still gives them their own agency and doesn’t try to actually control them or belittle them. He comes off as someone who simply…loves women, and that love coupled with a general misunderstanding of socially acceptable responses makes him stupid as fuck.

To finish i guess:

I’m fully in support of people not enjoying the sexualisation of the characters, and how Mineta contributes to that. I am more than aware that I’m indifferent to it at best. Thats a fully valid reason to dislike him! But there are a lot of misunderstandings to do with him, his place in the cast, and the stories intention with him.

I generally agree with you but i thought… maybe you’d think an opposing view would be interesting? Or rather a view coming from someone who liked him from the start?

Honestly i legit know nothing about horikoshi, I’m someone who wants nothing to do with the creators of things outside of their actual work, like that concept of don’t meet your heroes y’know. But as a girl horny about her own characters, i will defend that man’s horniness for his own characters until i die idc.

If you’d like me to explain something better, or tell you my opinion on something i missed feel free to ask i dont mind.

[NOTE: This is long! This is an actual ask about Mineta and among other things that I thought maybe some of you may be interested in reading, but because the font is in orange (due to Tumblr glitching out on Anon and their autism) I'm posting it like this. I'm not too bothered by the color, but I'm sure there are others who may find it unreadable. Now, you do not have to read it. And if you do read it, you may comment or just send me an ask ONLY if you're polite. Don't attack anyone over this. No matter how you may feel about Mineta, BNHA, Horikoshi, a dog, a cat, ANYTHING or ANYONE... DO NOT BE DISRESPECTFUL. Please keep any of your comments that you know are rude to yourself. And now, you may proceed if you choose to.]

Horikoshi said once in some interview that mineta is essentially a self-insert. Coincidentally, early-mha horikoshi had some pretty pervy tendencies (much like mineta—probably why he thought it would be cool to have such a character never really face consequences). The most famous example of this is probably the girls hero costumes, most notably Yaoyorozu. He mentions in an aside very early on in the story (volume three or something?) that he can’t seem to help himself and her boob window always gets bigger every time he draws it. Then there’s uraraka saying she didn’t want such a tight costume, Hagakure being naked, etc. When the anime started airing there was another interview where he said he really appreciated them making uraraka curvier than in the manga, because he likes curvy women. One could also use midnight and mount lady as examples of this but I’d say it’s more of a way of discussing mature themes surrounding hero society and all of its consequences rather than actual sexualisation. Something that sets him apart, even at this early stage, from other shonen mangakas is that he doesn’t only do this to the women, but the men as well. If Yaoyorozus hero costume is revealing, what about kirishimas (this comparison is my favourite because they both need skin showing for their quirks to function well, so why is one considered bad and the other fine? Because one is a boy and one is a girl? Please keep in mind I am not trying to say that kirishima is sexualized. It’s just food for thought)? If urarakas suit is considered too tight, then look at all might. You could probably see the outline of his dick from fifteen yards away when he wears that costume. Then there’s mineta, who makes certain comments regarding the women in his class. But what about mount lady and how she treats shoto? Or one of the wild wild pussy cats asking the boys in class 1-A how old they are to see how long til she can marry them? Unlike basically every other shonen out there, the sexualisation (at least as far as I can tell) is not based in sexism. It’s across the board, and we only notice it more when it happens to women because we are used to it happening to women.

For a long time, I hated horikoshi for the same reasons I hated mineta (it was a love-hate relationship for obvious reasons). He was openly perverted and seemingly one of *those* guys. You know, the ones I’d be afraid to walk near after dark. Or before dark. But I still loved mha and really appreciated what he was doing within the story. As a side note, he writes the women very well, which is rare in shonen (again—love hate relationship with dear old horikoshi). But if you’ll notice, the farther along in the story you look, the less sexualisation there is. It’s gradual so you hardly notice, but compare volume four or five to volume thirty. The difference is stark. It’s not really that mineta has less lines (although since the war started that has been the case) he still talks, just differently.

I think what happened is, when mha started getting popular, horikoshi started seeing huge pushback to minetas character, which probably all came to a head when the anime made him say something super fucked up to eri. I don’t recall if it was in dub or sub or both, but reading back through the manga it’s a bit different and honestly could’ve been poor translation or my own misinterpretation. But in the anime it was clear what he meant. He can’t wait for eri to be older, for exactly the reason you’re thinking now. The process of horikoshi realizing his mistakes started long before this, though, and gradually you can watch him patch up the holes if you pay attention. The anime does a poor job of this, at least until season six. But around the time that season four ends (and this is present in the manga too) there is a scene of Mina tying mineta to a chair and forcing him to watch something. After that, the sexualisation in the manga is gone for good. I’d like to interpret this as horikoshi finalizing his realization and own personal character development. He is no longer pervy, just like mineta is no longer pervy.

The one exception to this rule is that infamous chapter cover. The one with Hagakure on the front? Yeah, when I saw that, it made me rethink all of this. For about two weeks I was convinced that I’d been wrong about it, and he really is just a pervert after all. But lo and behold, he said in an interview that he was running behind and didn’t have time to draw or pick a chapter cover. He handed a bunch of old concept art to one of the higher ups and told them to pick something. He said he was never expecting that drawing to see the light of day, and he figured they’d choose something a little more suited to the story. (A little fucked up that he drew that? Yes, I think so. But keep in mind, these are *old* drawings. People are allowed to change and, following this metric, I think horikoshi has changed quite a bit.)

All of this is to say, mineta is not really a bad person anymore, and also has incredible writing (whether it was purposeful from the beginning or a last minute change) which just goes to show how talented horikoshi really is.

[ouyangzizhensdad]

Do you think that making Chinese food is cultural appropriation? I'm white and started making some of the foods I saw in the shows I've watched since the untamed, but now I'm worried I'm appropriating the culture.

Hi anon,

As a fellow white person, I am also someone who needs to critically reflect on how I engage with different cultures. I can't give you the definitive answer you seek, the clear absolution from any potential wrongdoings; in its stead, I can only offer to share my current thought process on this topic. I’d still encourage you to seek other perspectives, and many people have written or spoken on this topic.

I believe we must first acknowledge that, on the terrain of the internet, discussions regarding cultural appropriation have reached a certain... extreme where some people view all forms of cultural exchanges as inherently suspect. They purport that so long as you stay within the bounds of ‘your’ culture, you will problematic behaviours. That perspective is inherent flawed. That is, it relies on a vision of culture as ‘bounded entities’ that exist in themselves. In reality, the ‘stuff’ that makes culture is emergent, existing only relationally, dialectically--it is a not a ‘thing’ that moves through time but an idea which is constantly negotiated and reproduced in relation to power and changing material realities to remain relevant and intelligible. The boundaries of cultural and ethnic groups are fuzzy, overlapping, and constantly being reworked and made meaningful. As an illustration, many of the food I grew up eating was influenced by ingredients and recipes immigrants brought in the 19th and 20th centuries, yet these dishes were understood as 'typically ours’. And it needs to be acknowledged that most of what is currently considered ‘white people food’ relies on ingredients that were introduced to our diet through colonialism and the violent dispossession of indigenous peoples (and, often, the current day exploitation of workers in the South and of migrant workers). No food can be truly ‘traditionally ours’, whatever the purported ‘we’ ends up being brought into the equation, and no eating behaviours can avoid the historical legacy and continuity of violence and power.

Of course, as people who exist in the world, we know that there are cultural differences. Bakhtin’s insights on language through the tensions between centripedal (ie towards uniformity, a common meaning) and centrifugal (toward diversity and change) forces can be expanded to help us conceptualise how we make sense of the way a ‘culture’ is perpetuated through time as something meaningful in our daily lives. Uniformity allows intelligibility, sense-making, but diversity and change are inescapable by-products of individuals and groups repeatedly going through life, meeting and trying to create intelligibility and sense together in a world that cannot stay the same. It is at the intersection of these two conflicting forces that something can be different yet considered the same--that we can create continuity out of change. But something perhaps less emphasized in Bakhtin’s discussions is how much power and material realities work on these forces. Power influences both centripedal and centrifugal forces, if only in orchestrating circumstances that shape how one encounters ‘different cultures’ or reproduces their 'own' culture.

We live at a moment where the world seems to have reached an apex of connectivity--where goods, people, ideas (and viruses) move across distance and borders at speeds that defy comprehension. Yet the way goods, people and ideas move (through which canals and systems? in which direction? to the benefits of whom? at the expense of whom? to what reception or use? in the service of which institutions and ideologies?) or are, inversely, incapable or unwilling to move, is influenced by power and material realities. It is inescapable.

In a roundabout way, what I’m trying to say is that it's useless to try to live life in 'your lane' by turning to a baseline 'culture' because we simply do not have a baseline culture to return to that is 'safe' from the influences of other cultures or the taint of the historical legacy and continuity of violence. So how do I personally reconcile that with how I engage with content that is produced from different cultural contexts, and how I engage with cooking food that is influenced by different cultural contexts? For me the guidelines I take into consideration are respect, attribution and avoiding forms of dehumanisation. These emerged out of witnessing how other white people have acted as well as critically reflecting on how I have acted in the past, and trying to do better (including of course, by listening to different perspectives on the topic). [just in case, warning for examples of racism/micro-agressions] I've been in China with white people who would praise the cooking we were eating in the same breath they were making jokes about dog meat. I've witnessed in Japan a dude decide not to come to an izakaya with Japanese colleagues, fucking off on his own to Akihabara instead, because he was disappointed he couldn’t talk about anime with them--too obsessed with the idealised version of Japan he’d created in his head to treat the Japanese people he met as people. The internet is full of white people telling you how to cook food from places they've never been and taking credit for 'popularising' that dish or 'making it better'. That's not even talking about the tendency for food to become a mark of a cosmopolitan, metropolitan identity in the West--the open-minded, the liberal, the traveler, the hip white person up with the times and beyond the mainstream. Hell, I've even seen people who act as if eating ‘ethnic’ food prepared by immigrants is the singular proof that they were people who cared about immigrants' well-being.

Food is rarely just about food, even when consumed at home. At the same time, we’d be remiss in all these discussions of power to dismiss how food is also one of oldest things we, as humans, want to share with others--including strangers. Feeding is nourishing and giving, eating is accepting into ourselves something made by others. Most people appreciate it when the value of a dish that holds importance for them is recognised by others--although, of course, many might understandably also resent that they have been discriminated against or mocked for eating that same food. Every time I’ve been invited in an immigrant household or at events with mostly immigrants, I’ve felt this sense of almost trepidation emanating from them, waiting for my reaction, and satisfaction once I was seen eating and appreciating the food they had served me--as if the acceptance of the food that was tied to their identity was a form of acceptance of who they were. Of course this can’t be disentangled from past experiences where other people might have been disrespectful, dismissive or outright racist: but the excitement they had in sharing food that had meaning to them and seeing others appreciate it was genuine.

Beyond situations of clear cultural sharing, where we get closer to what appears to be ‘cultural appropriation’, I believe that we cannot act as if there is something inherently sacrilegious in the idea of adapting recipes or using a specific ingredients in new ways--that’s centrifugal forces at play, and they have provided us with many dishes we love today: from immigrant creations like butter chicken to things like spicy kimchi. We cannot work with the assumption that people will only react with hostility at the idea of other people cooking the food they grew with, even in ways that are different from how they’re traditionally used and are thus “not authentic”. I still remember an interaction I had in a Korean grocery store, once upon a time when I lived in a metropolitan city. A man in front of me at the cash register who had been buying snacks and chatting with the employee in Korean looked at my stuff and suddenly asked me if I knew the name of the leafy green I was buying. I wasn’t necessarily surprised because I had overheard in the past customers and employees commenting in Korean about being surprised about the ingredients I, a white person, was purchasing, thinking I couldn’t understand them. I confirmed to him that I knew I was buying mustard greens. He then asked me what I was planning to do with them, and I explained that while I didn’t think it’s a traditional or common way of using it, I personally liked to add them to kimchi jjigae because it compliments their bitter/strong taste and I like leafy greens in my soups and stews. He said it was interesting, and that he was kind of impressed. The employee chimed to tell me I should be honoured at the compliment because the man was actually a chef who owned famous Korean fusion restaurants in the city. That was clearly someone who took Korean food very seriously and clearly had a certain degree of suspicion regarding how white people interacted with it, but he was also curious and interested in seeing how I approached ingredients without having grown up eating them.

Another point of contention is also that we cannot ignore that food is a sensual experience and that, while tastes are greatly influenced by our environment, they are not solely so. I grew up hating most of the food my parents would serve me, and started cooking in my early teens to avoid having to eat it. Before I started cooking, I would often just eat rice with (in hindsight horrible) western-brand soy sauce instead of the meal my mom had made. When I ate Indian food for the first time during a trip at the ripe age of 16, it blew my mind that food could taste like this. Of course I never wanted to look back, and with each years I discovered that a lot of Asian cuisines fit my palate better than what I grew up eating or other cuisines I had tried. When I was a teenager we visited my mom’s friend in France and I hated what she served us so much I’d simply choose to nibble on bread, prompting her to try to stage an intervention for my ‘obvious’ anorexia. Yet, being in China made me realise ingredients I thought I hated had just been cooked in ways I disliked. Do my taste buds absolve me from any need to think critically about how I interact with food? Of course not. But sometimes the reason we want to cook certain recipes and foods is just that it tastes great to us, and we want to reproduce the recipes we enjoyed with the ingredients and the skills we have. Or, really, sometimes we just want to try new tastes because we do a lot of eating throughout our lives, and it seems a waste to limit ourselves to a narrow number of dishes for decades to come.

So that’s where I currently am in my thinking about this topic, as a white person who cooks dishes influenced by a number of different places but who is also not trying to cook in a way that is necessarily authentic. Some things that I keep in mind that you can ask yourself now that cdramas and cnovels have made you interested in Chinese cooking is: are you taking this as an opportunity to support immigrant businesses when getting your ingredients? are you supporting white creators when looking for chinese recipes (some suggestion of youtube channels: Made with Lau, Chinese cooking Demystified, Family in Northwest China, 西北小强 Xibeixiaoqiang, 小高姐的 Magic Ingredients)? are you being respectful (not reproducing harmful stereotypes in how you talk about chinese food and the people who eat it)? do you use your interest in Chinese food to create a narrative about China and Chinese people that denies them, in some way, of their complexity and humanity? are you using your interest in Chinese food to create a narrative about yourself?

In conclusion I will leave you with a picture of some misshapen baozi I’ve made.

[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part II/VII)

"candy floss"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @leovaldez37 @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: grief, feels, brief mention of Fred x Reader ig?

A/N: I decided to name the parts bc why the fuck not so keep an eye on the titles 👀. This story is based off this convo and these headcanons. If you wanna be tagged in the next parts tell me, and enjoy <3

Prologue :the aftermath

Part I : sleepless nights

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The moment the last group of customers decided it was time to call it a day and exited the shop, I left the till counter and grabbed my wand from my pocket, instantly turning the sign in the door so it could be read from outside 'closed'.

A sigh escaped my lips as I leaned against the multicolored wooden rail.

I was drained.

The shop helped our minds to get distracted and stray from the grief, yes, but it was also exhausting.

We had been subconsciously overworking ourselves to the point where it was borderline self-destructive.

It didn't help that I was throwing myself into comforting George, either. I could not be blamed for doing that, though; he was broken.

A part of me, the rational one, knew he would pick up the pieces and build himself up again, it would just take a lot of time.

There was another part of me, though, that depressed, drained part, that was beginning to think he would never heal by himself —maybe he wouldn't heal at all— but still held onto the hope that, if I tried hard enough, I would be able to mend what had been broken in him.

A terrible idea, really, because I started to dismiss in its entirety my own miserable, damaged state.

And George, ever the caring, sensible one, would have noticed that; he would have made me realize I was not doing nearly as well as I thought, he would have talked some sense into me, but he wouldn't— he couldn't, because George was lost in an ocean of grief, trying so hard not to drown that he wasn't able to notice I was trying to aid him from my very own sinking boat.

It also seemed to be working; he was more animated, slept more soundly, and his smile was a bit brighter even —at least the one he had for me.

"Rough day?" My eyes, which I didn't know I had closed, fluttered open at George's voice.

"Very."

He walked to me with a tinge of guilt in his face. "You know we can switch places, right?" I had been working as the public face of the shop since we had reopened, and George had taken on the task of doing the paperwork and shippings instead, showing up from time to time to help me and to let people know there was still a Weasley running the business.

I had been the one to suggest this, since I knew George had compromised with reopening only because of me, and he was clearly not ready to put up a sociable, positive attitude for dozens of people every day.

"Nah, it's fine like this." I assured him with a reassuring smile.

He measured me with his eyes for a second; I couldn't really tell if he saw through me or not. "So I was preparing the today's shippings," he rocked a tiny purple basket I quickly recognised in front of me. "I found this in the back of the stockroom."

"Are those—?"

"Candy floss cupcakes, yes." A year and a half ago we had bought five baskets of candy floss cupcakes from Honeydukes per George's request in order to unsuccessfully try and implement them.

"Are they even edible anymore?" I couldn't help but laugh.

"I hope so?" He chuckled too, tearing the film covering the sweets. "Thought we might as well finish them."

My eyes travelled from the basket to him and viceversa before stating, "well I'm hungry so..."

"Same here." He was the first one to pull out a pastel colored cupcake, though he handed it to me. "Wanna get food poisoning together?" Laughing, I gave him a nod as he grabbed his own cupcake. "At the count of three?"

"One"

"Two"

"Three." We said in unison right before taking a bite of our respective madeleines.

I frowned at its surprisingly good flavour. "Am I delirious or are they actually edible?"

"Dunno," he shoved the rest of his cupcake into his mouth with a shrug. "maybe we're just starving."

"Go big or go home, I guess." I finished my cupcake before leaning on the basket to pick another one. My head snapped up with my brow quirked when I heard a soft chuckle. "What?"

"Nothing." George shook his head, motioning at the stairs. "Shall we sit down?" I followed his lead, sitting on the stairs and waiting for him, who had stepped towards the drinks aisle to grab a couple of juice bottles, to do the same.

We stayed there, eating and drinking in a comfortable silence until the basket was empty and our eyelids threatened to shut.

"I think we should head back to the flat." He spoke, leaving the half empty juice aside so he could stretch.

"I'm gonna learn how to cook." I stated, getting up. "We can't get by based on most likely expired sweets and whatever is in the Leaky Cauldron menu."

"Aight." He mimicked my actions, picking up the stuff we left on the stairs. "We will learn the basics tomorrow." He got behind me and began to gently push in the flat's direction. "But now we're gonna get some sleep, miss."

I would be lying if I said my heartbeat didn't pick up when his hands landed on my shoulder blades and made their way to rub both my arms reassuringly.

I would be lying if I denied I leaned back when he did that, letting myself get closer to his chest.

And I would definitely be lying if I said I didn't crave going back to my room so I could cuddle him all night.

One Week Later

"—right in the cauldron, love." I pointed at the cauldron besides me, giving a sweet smile to the kid in front of me, visibly going to be sick thanks to the free sample of Skiving Snackboxes.

"Y/n!" I spun around at the loud calling of my name above the shop's racket. I was able to discern a long, red mane flowing fast towards my position right on time for the owner to wrap her arms around me.

"Glad to see you too, Ginny." I laughed, trying not to lose balance due to her enthusiasm. "How come you're here?" I questioned, pulling away.

"We heard you were open." Harry walked up to me, appearing from behind the girl, "And thought we'd pay a visit to our friends, right?" Ginny nodded, looking around while Harry gave me a quick, yet comforting hug. "Where's George?"

I motioned up to the small office, redirecting the couple's eyes to the second floor. "Doing paperwork—AH!" I jolted when a pair of hands tickled my sides, my head snapping to see the towering ginger standing behind me. "Speaking of the devil."

"I thought I saw Gin through the window," George explained, his hands lingering on my waist for long enough to his sister to stare, before pulling Ginny into a tight hug. "And came down to check if she was distracting my employee."

"You got her all bored here, mate." Harry pointed out, a light joking tone in his voice.

"And you're the one supposed to help with that?" George rolled his eyes dramatically. "Pfft... What a world we live in." With the said, he gave the boy a side hug. I heard Harry murmur an 'We missed you' before they pulled away with a pat on the shoulder.

My gaze landed on the youngest Weasley, whose welled up eyes were trained on her older brother's half smile. I only averted my eyes and waited for her to discreetly wipe away the unspilled tears while Harry and George catched up.

By the letters she had sent me, I reckoned the last time she had been near George, he had been lifeless; seeing a glimpse of who was once one of the most cheerful, funny and charismatic people in her life, was probably poignant to Ginny.

I hadn't realized she had moved closer until I didn't hear her soft voice. "Thank you." I offered her a confused smile, though deep down I knew what she meant.

Two Days Later

George was having one of those days.

We both knew it was coming soon; it had to happen sooner rather than later, since he had been in a surprisingly good mood for almost a week. I suspected seeing Harry and Ginny had brought back the events of the Second of May.

I suggested to close the shop for the day, since he was unable to move out of bed; he refused to do so, but I convinced him to stay in the flat and rest —it was Tuesday, anyway; I wouldn't have to handle many customers.

Due to that, when I saw Hermione, Ron, Bill and Fleur entered the shop, it was understandable that I hadn't become the happiest person in the world.

I greeted them, there were hugs, kisses, and even a joke or two, and when Bill asked about George, I excused him without giving much detail.

They understood.

Fleur was the one to restart the conversation, lightening a bit before requesting a tour for the shop, since she had not yet been there.

It was when we reached the love potions that Hermione, using the fact that Fleur was very much interested in the product, held my hand and pulled me aside.

"So... how are you doing?" The frown in her face, the fact that she was whispering, the squeeze her hand gave mine, let me know she had read me the moment her eyes met mines.

I sighed with a shrug.

"You can tell me." Could I? "No one's asking you to put on a happy face, Y/n." The girl assured me, her eyes digging into mines. "It's not just George, we all lost—" she shook her head at her own words before correcting herself. "you lost him too."

I lost him too.

I bit my lower lip to stop it from quivering.

The memory of Fred's broken smile as his corpse laid on the stretcher, that memory that haunted my dreams, appeared vividly before my eyes.

My lips started to burn with the ghost of that kiss he gave me before we split up, him with Percy and me with George; it hadn't been meant to be a goodbye kiss. It was meant to be a good luck kiss.

I covered my mouth to muffle a sob, and Hermione's arms were quick to be wrapped around me, reassuringly rubbing my back.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

I saw them entering from Y/n's balcony; I wasn't emotionally ready to face them all at the same time, but when I didn't see them exit, I figured Y/n hadn't been able to dismiss them.

I decided I owed to them all to bite the bullet, so I threw on a shirt and the first trousers I grabbed, cleaned up a bit and left the flat.

With a deep breath, I made it to the second floor and mentally prepared myself to go down to the first one.

As I began to climb down, though, I noticed Hermione and Y/n talking in private, closer than the others to the stairs.

I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but all my senses were automatically focused on Y/n whenever we were in the same room; she just stole me away from reality.

"You lost him too."

Hermione's words visibly triggered something on Y/n.

'Something', as if I didn't know what they had triggered, as if I didn't know what— who was on her mind.

I guess he was always on her mind, though.

What was left of my heart shattered in a million pieces when she broke down to tears —for several reasons—. "I miss him." She whispered in Hermione's shoulder. "I miss him so much."

If I had any tears left, I would have cried my eyes out right there. Had I been so selfish that I had disregarded how she was feeling? So blinded by the light and love and warmth she was constantly giving me that I had forgotten about her grief? Was I that bad of a person, that I would have rather live in the illusion that she had not lost the boy she was dating?

My mind told me I didn't want any of those questions answered.

"George!" As Ron yelled my name in surprise, Hermione and Y/n pulled away, the latter rubbing her eyes while both of my brothers jogged upstairs to hug me. "Ginny told us you're open—"

"But Y/n said you weren't feeling well." Bill finished, squeezing my shoulder. "We only stayed a little longer for Fleur to see the shop."

"Yeah, we'll come back tomorrow," Ron assured me. "So you can rest and..."

My brother's voice sounded further and further with each word; I felt myself drifting off, getting lost in my own mind and gravitating towards the same thought over and over.

She deserves better.

[radiantform]

i don’t know what the fuck is going on, probably no one does, but my hunch is that this winter might wind up being the biggest sick wave and this is based on the astrology of 2022, some interesting models from martin armstrong that place peak pandemic period to be starting now and like based on a lot of the chatter from circles i am aware of whatever that means and I don’t really think the vaccines work and may even weaken ones immune system ? but idk, i am pretty inclined to distrust corporations and governments at this point, so my understanding is that health is more important than ever rn but also its always been important so even if everything is fine and theres nothing to worry about its still beneficial to eat healthy, its the only thing that makes sense to me 

raw local grass fed butter, raw local grass fed milk, local grass fed beef, non gmo organic local vegetables, local eggs from healthy organic chickens, yoga, walking, breath work, sunlight, NAC, zeolite, vitamin d, carbon 60 fullerene, magnesium, quinine,  structured spring water, chaga mushrooms, turmeric, wild caught salmon, pecans, cod liver oil and fasting

steer clear of  seed oils especially vegetable oil and gmo foods, just limiting vegetable oil from your diet could dramatically alter your health, 100 percent serious

im not so sure that being vegan in the winter is a good idea, especially if you have any health issues.  it may work for some young ppl for a period of time but everyone ive ever known who was vegan long term had extreme health problems later in life bec its not easy to do it in the right way and there are a lot of super processed vegan products that are really bad for you, like all of the alternative milks contain so many awful additives, its wild that ppl drink them. i know of one doctor who i really respect who is vegan but they’re also a farmer and a chemist and herbalist, they grow everything they eat and are extremely knowledgeable about health, and everything in their life revolves around health https://www.alfavedic.com/  i think being connected to nature and understanding health helps a lot if u choose to be vegan but for most ppl, the only way vegan can work is if you’re in a warm climate like Hawaii with lots of sun and very fresh fruits and vegetables, i think summer veganism makes more sense than winter veganism.  gmo grocery store vegetables lack a lot of nutrition and are sprayed with harmful chemicals and and just lack of sunlight is a big deal on the immune system and overall health ..animal products are the most densely packed nutrition source which is why almost all northern cultures have relied on high fat animal proteins ...when you’re living in an environment without good sunlight like in the winter months, its very hard to remain healthy unless u eat high quality animal proteins and fats

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

come on in, folks, i got some kind of goof ass Beetlejuice/Evil Dead crossover for you to enjoy.

He’s eighteen, and it’s Saturday, which means that he and Lydia are wandering around Manhattan, looking for trouble to get into. Lydia, eleven and ever his little shadow, is standing next to him, as they take a moment, on the busy New York street corner, to sip their boba and think about their next move. They were meant to be watching some horror movie that had looked alright from the previews, but ended up being so stupid, it wasn’t even fun, and the Deetz siblings had found themselves walking out, one hour poorer but a bucket of overly butter saturated movie popcorn richer. “I still can’t believe how bad that was,” Lydia says, again, huffing, because they’d actually paid money to see that stinker, instead of sneaking in, which is their usual habit. “Ya get one big name attached an’ everyone apparently stops givin’ a shit. Musta figured th’ droolin’ masses would eat it up,” he agrees, and he slurps up the last of his tapioca balls, and then proceeds to eat the plastic straw. “Is it too much to ask that characters actually be interesting, and, I don’t know, behave like normal human people?” Lyds bitches, as BJ takes a bite out of his cup, too. She glances up at him, dryly. “I mean, I guess maybe my standards for normality are low, but still.”

He grins at her. “Whatever could you possibly mean, sister dearest?” he puts on a posh, almost transatlantic accent, and she rolls her eyes, and sucks boba up in her straw, then shoots the pearls at him like a pea shooter. He snorts and laughs.

It’s a good day, despite the letdown at the movies. It’s nearly that time of year, just about the start of his seasonal depression, as the sun becomes shy and things go cold and gray. Still, there’s some time left with the sunshine, so he’s drinking it up, savoring it, and it feels good, to stand here with Lyds, and talk about nothing. “Alright, come on, let’s second act it,” he grins, and she perks up. “I think Wicked’s playing!” “Wicked’s always playin’.” “Well, I’m not sitting through Hamilton, it’s a Saturday. I’m not learning if I don’t have to.” “Totally fuckin’ fair. Music Man, maybe?” “Hugh Jackman’s weirdly brick shaped head freaks me out.” “There’s gotta be a show we can sneak into,” BJ frowns, scratching at the scruff of his chin, and then he catches a scent he’s never smelled before, as Lydia puzzles through their remaining options. It’s like death, sort of, but not. Like death warmed over, or death, refried. He takes his sister’s hand, and leads her away from the street corner, following the smell, nose in the air, pupils blown wide, and Lydia laughs. “Great, time to go poke a dead thing. That’s more fun than The Last Four Years, at least.” She’s seen him go like this before, and thinks she knows what to expect.

Neither of them know how to react when they follow the scent down an alleyway and see the violent fight happening in front of them.

Parked at the far end of the alleyway is a car, some 70’s make that he doesn’t know enough about such things to name, and between it, and the Deetz siblings, is an one handed man absolutely going feral on a group of three refried dead smelling zombie… things. “Deadly-vu,” he hears Lydia whisper, as they watch the man perform a scissor kick that sends a zombie head flying. It bounces like a basketball against the brick wall that makes the alleyway, rolls, and lands at the Deetz sibling’s feet. There’s a beat, as they stare at it, and it stares back, before the head on the ground opens its mouth and speaks. “DEMON!” it shrieks, and then it makes the life ending choice to roll at Lydia, teeth bared, and his boot is going through it, crushing through the skull like an overly juicy bug under his heel. He takes a second to wipe the gore from his sole onto the pavement. “Maybe Wicked could be good,” he turns and says to Lydia, who responds by ducking behind him, because the body the head formerly belonged to seems to be stumbling at them, clutching something in it’s boiled and infected and puss covered arms, and it thrusts the thing at BJ, before falling down and collapsing into dust. It’s a book. Some kind of creepy old demon book, from the look of it. He wrinkles his nose in vague disgust, and then takes a sniff. If the zombie things are refried death, this thing is a whole fucking Mexican food buffet of it, and it makes his head spin in a way he’s never felt before. He kind of likes it. He’s about to give the cursed reading material a tentative lick before a boom rings out from in front of them- the one handed man has pulled a sawed off shotgun off his back, and dispatched another corpse thing. There’s one left, and it’s circling the man, who by this point is so blood covered, he looks like he was tricked into being prom queen, or something.

“Is it just me, or do you freaks just keep gettin’ uglier?” the man quips, and the corpse lunges, a stumbling move which earns it the butt of the shotgun to the jaw, which goes flying. The zombie is shot through the gut, and drops, but is a twitching, squirming mess. BJ’s seen enough horror movies to know that thing is getting back up. The stranger has apparently, too. He takes a moment to reload the shotgun, then double taps, blowing clean through the thing’s skull. He blows at the slightly smoking barrels of his sawed off, twirls it, and holsters it, re-slipping it onto his back. It’s a pretty cool move, actually, and the siblings watch in rapt attention. It takes the three remaining people (well, two people, one demon,) in the alley a moment to actually focus on each other, and there’s silence, before the stranger speaks. “Uh,” says the man, covered in blood, and Lydia peaks out from behind BJ, and stares at him, with big eyes. “Kids,” he hears the man mutter. “Great, just what I need, a coupla kids, gettin’ in my way.. Hey, kiddies,” he says, louder, with a smile, which might be really charming when he’s not soaked in rot and blood, but the effect at the moment is not as sincere and friendly as he clearly thinks it is. “Looks like you two little heroes managed to wrangle my book away from those deadites. You wanna do your pal Ash a favor, and hand it over?” He makes a “come here” motion with his stump arm, and then seems to realize that’s not so appealing, because he tucks that appendage behind his back, worried, suddenly, about scaring them. As if a man with a missing hand is the weirdest thing they've seen in the last five minutes.

“What the fuck,” Lydia says, and BJ can’t help but agree with that sentiment. Also, he feels a vague sense of sudden responsibility for this weird old tome. It doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of thing a human should have. Maybe those zombies… deadites? Maybe they were trying to get back what was stolen from them. Though he’s not charitable enough to assume that they’re the good guys in this feud. The stranger, Ash, takes a careful step forward. “It’s alright,” he says, like he’s talking to a wild animal he’s trying to tame, and not a teen and preteen, respectively. “I’m not gonna hurtcha. Just need to get my book back.”

A sudden screeching wind roars down the alleyway, and both living humans react, ducking, as it bellows and swirls around them, kicking up dust and trash and chunks of leftover deadite. “Demon! Aid us!” BJ feels a presence in front of his face, something he can’t see, but a great, ancient something, reaching out to him, demanding, begging, pleading, for him to assist in whatever macabre goal it wants to meet. He responds by sticking his unglamoured tongue out at it. “Ewww, gross. No.”

The thing shrieks again, and makes a beeline for Lydia, which is just about the stupidest thing it could have done, because he drops his glamour fully and snarls, gives the ancient being a psychic push back, and he sends the thing that cannot be seen flying, out of the shady darkness of this alleyway, past what he assumes to be Ash’s car, and out onto the city street, into the sun. It shrieks and moans and curses him. He flips it off, as it dissipates. The vibe in the air, however, tells him it’s not “dead,” just gone.

Ash straightens up and looks at him. BJ’s already slipped his human disguise back on, so the effect is that Ash has just seen what seems to be a slightly too pale and definitely overweight human teen somehow push back an ancient evil, totally unaffected. Now it’s his turn to let out a confused, “What the fuck?”

“Come on, BJ!” Lydia grabs her big brother’s arm and pulls him away, running from the gore and the confused zombie slayer. “Wait, kids-!” Ash rounds the corner, after them, but the Deetz siblings are already gone, disappeared into thin air, flash stepping the span of blocks in the blink of an eye, and they don’t stop until Lydia, sick from the teleportation, gives his hand a squeeze. They appear on a rooftop, confusing and traumatizing some pigeons that had been roosting.

“Wait, why did we run?’ BJ asks, and Lydia looks at him like he’s a moron. “Because that guy was clearly a monster hunter! And kind of really good at it!” she says. He mulls that over, and smiles. “Worried for your big bro?” he bats his eyelashes at her, and she responds by slugging him in the gut, which he reacts the barest amount to. “Last thing I want is to explain to mom and dad how you ended up with a shotgun blast through your skull,” she says, and crosses her arms, before leaning forward, to study the book he’s still holding. “So. What is that?” He grins. “Wanna open it an’ find out?” Read the rest of the first chapter here!

[toriliashine]

Watch Gonta’s FTE’s and I’m-

(words in Italics are just some personal extra thoughts lmao )

Homeboy was USED, TALKED ABOUT BUT NOT SAVED.

HE WAS MADE OUT TO BE SOME MYTHICAL FIGHTER WHO WAS TALKED ABOut throughout Asia (based on his opponents while he was STILL STUCK IN THAT FOREST). SO people knew about him but talked so much about his strength that people just saw him as some mythical fighter to attempt to beat without saving or trying to get him out of the forest?

So he fought loads of battles, might not have picked up that they were being mean to him ( or didn’t have the best intentions at heart), picked up some language and stuff from them and he. beat them all? Even a professional wrestler apparently? how strong is this guy? And for him to beat professionals he doesn’t just have brute strength but also tact and quick reflexes in hand to hand combat so :O.

ASIAHSHIAKSJAL Kokichi putting him to sleep with his big words, you love and hate to see it. They have a really cute relationship though. like imagine Kokichi feeling free to ramble to this man about whatever because he knows Gonta won’t be mean about it.

AAJKSLK GONTA MIXED UP GENTLEMEN WITH PHANTOM THIEVES FOR A HOT SECOND SKJNDKLANMSL. grape boi wouldve loved to hear that. 

HE’S MIXING UP WHAT GENTLEMEN ARE - WHERE IS HE GETTING THIS INFORMATION - 

He’s so sweet. I wonder why he wants to be a gentleman specifcally though. Where did he learn to want to be one? And if he’s so fixed on becoming one why doesn’t he have a fixed definition of what one is yet?

Gonta had a whole rich? human family and they didn’t give him gifts often? Did they adopt him thinking he was a charity case and he should be gRaTeFuL?? fuck fuck fuck.

Come on Shuichi at least try to lead him to where he can find Gentlemanly information come on....

FUCK FUCK HIS FAMILY, his human family is rich and know and well respected but they lost one of their kids for 10 WHOLE YEARS. and when he comes back and talks about the animals and stuff he grew up with they show pure disdain?? At least use some of your money to make up for LOSING YOUR OWN SON and make a conserve zoo thing to keep the wildlife he recognized safe in his honour??? Disgusting fucks, they blamed Gonta’s forest family for him not developing and socialising properly but not themselves for losING THEIR OWN KID FOR A DECADE?????? Did they get him therapy, psychologist, anyone that would bother to understand him from his perspective???

Gonta’s becoming a gentleman because he wants his human family to accept his forest family as proof that they didn’t ‘ruin him’ omgggg ;;;-;;;

Shuichi what the fuck do you mean ‘i think he’ll never become a gentleman’, I’ll reach through this screen and strangle you with my bare hands you discount hot topic emo fuck.

I understand that Gonta wants to be a respectable person but its sure that what he may define to be a respectable person may not be fully inline with what his human family wants, i’m scared for his future if he goes back to them :(. mans is NOT being treated right.

fuck yEAH HE’S IMPRESSIVE. GAS HIM UP!! TALK ABOUT ALL THE NEW SPECIES HE’S FOUND AND THE NEW CULTIVATION METHODS AND THE BOUNDARIES HE BROKE IN INSECT COMMUNICATION AND UNDERSTANDING FUCK YEAH.

he wants to become gentleman for forest family omg q-q. I know a it of him personally wanting to be one for himself is also seeping in but wow he misses and loves them so much.

He learnt his ultimate with his forest family. His forest family were reptiles. Did the reptiles learn to eat them when he wasn’t looking to not make him sad? or.

Wait does Gonta have some reptilean behaviours he picked up but hasn’t shown anyone :o. 

Gonta: Oh no, this bug got its leg broken and can’t work properly anymore!

Everyone: gonta don’t be sad it can just rest in p-

Gonta: *eats it* anyway

Everyone: WHAT THE F-

Shuichi: as long as u do your best as ultimate entomologist, your family will be proud of you! 

Babe, were u listening. They’d be proud of his work, of him titles and fame. But they won’t be proud of him as a person. But hey, whatever gets the ball rolling.

Yes he IS a more amazing person that he thinks he is TELL HIM SAIHARA <333

AT THE END OF THE FTES HE NOW CHOOSES TO BECOME A GENTLEMAN FOR HIMSELF. NOT FOR REPUTATION OR TO PLEASE HIS HUMAN FAMILY, FOR HIMSELFFF. LOVE TO SEE IT.

they squeezed handdds <333

NOT THE LOINCLOTH UNDERWER HBAKSIFSOHALB

Extra thoughts!! Idc, i feel like he has adhd/add or SOMETHING. He has some kind of disorder but apparently some cultures in asia don’t speak much about that kind of thing so he may just have gone a long time thinking something was wrong with him? baby... But it is true that, though he is getting better, when he was growing up after he left the forest with other people - he had problems picking up social cues like when people are lying or mean well to him. hmmm

[hopelesshawks]

Physical Fatality Part 1- Respectable

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Masterlist

You sit down at your desk staring almost blankly ahead. “Hey Katsuki, can I borrow your hoodie really quick?” you ask the man whose desk has been next to yours for almost a year now and who just so happens to be the number three hero. He looks at you, then the leather jacket you’re clearly wearing, and raises an eyebrow. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks. “Bakugo. Hoodie. Now,” you try again, extending an expectant hand out to him. He notices the diamond engagement ring that had made its home there for the past couple of months is gone so he takes off and hands over his hoodie. “Thanks,” you tell him giving him a smile, before carefully folding up the hoodie and then promptly shoving it in your face to muffle your frustrated scream.

“Are you ok (y/n)?” a different voice asks full of concern. You lift your head out of the sweatshirt to find a freckle-faced man hovering in front of your desk. “I’m fine Midoriya,” you sigh. “Liar,” Bakugo scoffs. You glare at him before throwing his hoodie at his face. He still manages to catch it, the bastard. “You and Monoma broke up didn’t you?” he asks without missing a beat as he puts his hoodie back on. Midoriya’s eyes get wide as he turns back to you to confirm. “Yea, we did. For good this time,” you relent. “What happened?” Midoriya asks with sad eyes. God you’re too sober for his pity, but you’re also still at work so you guess you’ll just have to power through because there’s no way he’ll drop it now. “The usual. We fought and he got mean the way he always does. I just finally had enough,” you shrug. “Don’t do that (y/n), you know you can talk about it with us,” Midoriya insists, grabbing a chair from a nearby desk and pulling it up to yours. As he sits down you realize there’s no talking your way out of this. The lower ranking heroes were taking all of the patrols today so the three of you had plenty of time to go over your failed engagement.

“Fine! Geez, he basically called me a slut with no friends,” you finally admit. “What? None of that’s true!” Midoriya protests. “It’s kind of true,” you shrug. “Bakugo and I are your friends!” Midoriya insists. “Don’t rope me into shit you damn nerd,” Bakugo scowls. “He said you two don’t count cause you’re my coworkers and I almost never see you guys outside of work,” you reply. “That’s just because we all basically live at work,” Bakugo says rolling his eyes. “So we are friends then?” you smirk at Bakugo. “What are you on about?” he scowls. “You didn’t contradict the friends part of that sentence,” you point out. “Obviously we’re friends, dumbass. Shouldn’t have to fuckin tell you all the time,” he huffs, slightly embarrassed by the admission which makes you laugh. “You know you’re not a slut either,” Midoriya cuts in. “Nah, she was definitely a slut.” “Kacchan!” “What? If anything she should go back to being a slut. She was way more fun then,” Bakugo shrugs. “I agree with Bakugo on this one. Monoma is an asshole and I never would’ve gotten engaged to him in the first place if All Might hadn’t pressured me into a relationship with him,” you point out. “Wait, All Might is the reason you two got together?” Midoriya asks. “Did you not know this story? The tabloids were eating me alive because of all the one night stands. Monoma was the quote, unquote ‘perfect opportunity to make me respectable’ and get the tabloids off my back. I didn’t care but the agency has a reputation to maintain,” you explain. “Speak of the devil,” Bakugo suddenly says. You turn to see where he’s looking only to groan as you notice your now ex-fiancé storming into the room.

“We weren’t done talking (y/n)!” Monoma shouts as he rapidly approaches your desk. You quickly spin around so your back is facing him. “Do you think he’ll go away if I pretend I didn’t see him?” you ask Bakugo conspiratorially. “Doubtful,” Bakugo scoffs. You groan in response just as Monoma finally gets to your desk and spins your chair around to face him. “You’re being unreasonable, just take the ring back,” he insists as he holds the obnoxiously large diamond out towards you. “No Neito, I told you we’re done,” you sigh. “You don’t mean that. Baby, please,” he begs and it’s starting to tug on your heart a little bit. For one tiny moment you think maybe you’re being too harsh. After all, in spite of the circumstances from which it all started, you had grown to love him over the years of your tumultuous relationship. For just one moment you consider saying fine and taking back the ring. Then Monoma does what he always does: he opens his stupid fucking mouth. “I could make you golden if you’d just show some respect,” he promises and it’s so ludicrous you could almost laugh. Almost. “You know, I’d tell you to shove that stupid ring up your ass but I’m afraid it would never fit with your head already stuck so deep in there. Fuck off Monoma,” you tell him.

He looks like he’s about to protest again but Midoriya and Bakugo both are stood beside you in an instant. Having the number one and number three heroes as your closest friends has its perks. “Walk away extra,” Bakugo warns, his palms sparking. You see the green sparks of Midoriya charging up his own quirk out the corner of your eye and you’re sure Monoma must be shitting himself at least a little bit. “So you’re trading me in for some of the wondrous 1-A boys then?” he asks and it makes you roll your eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t fall out. “No Neito. I’m just done with you and your bullshit,” you insist. “Please don’t go away,” he finally begs as one last ditch attempt to win you back. “It’s too late,” you tell him. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally giving up and walking away.

When the door finally shuts behind him you sag in relief with a sigh. “Did he just refer to you guys by your class name from fucking high school?” you ask in disbelief as Bakugo and Midoriya finally relax and go back to sitting. “He did,” Midoriya sighs. “Jesus Christ I almost married that guy. I was prepared to have kids with that guy!” you groan. Midoriya gives you a reassuring pat on the back. “Why couldn’t All Might have tried to set me up with you instead Midoriya,” you pout. “O-oh! I’m flattered! But uh I really don’t think of you that way. Not that you’re not attractive or anything! I don’t mean it like that! Just yknow I see you more as a sister and uh-“ he stutters as his face goes red. His rant is cut off by the sound of your laughter. “Oh my god, Midoriya relax! I’m kidding! I know you’re very happy with Uravity. The two of you are adorable together it’s disgusting,” you assure him. “Hey why’d you say that shitty nerd over me?” Bakugo cuts in with a raised eyebrow. You roll your eyes. “You can’t fix my reputation Bakugo. The only reason you don’t have to fix your own is because you’ve had the same shitty one since high school so it’s just part of your brand now,” you point out. Bakugo doesn’t particularly like that answer but you’re not wrong so he doesn’t contradict you. “Whatever, at least there’s that dumb ass HPSC masquerade thing tonight,” he grouses. “How is that an ‘at least’? Those things suck,” you groan. “They aren’t that bad! A bunch of the retired heroes are gonna speak!” Midoriya tries to encourage. “That’s exactly why it’ll suck,” you sigh. “Wrong as usual, dumbass,” Bakugo smirks. “Oh really? Enlighten me then oh wise explosion murder god,” you say, turning to face him. He glares at your use of the old moniker but decides to give you a pass this time since Monoma was such a brat. “You only hate them because you’ve only been with the stupid respectable copycat where you had to make stupid respectable small talk to create a stupid respectable reputation. This time you’ll roll in with us, we’ll get drunk on the company’s dime while Deku fusses, and we’ll be anything but respectable. Fuck being respectable,” Bakugo asserts. “You know what? Fuck it and fuck being respectable,” you agree. Bakugo grins at you as Midoriya looks between the two of you concerned. “I guess you earned it,” he sighs and your grin only brightens.

Tonight is going to be one to remember.

Author’s Note: I honestly feel like Monoma is more of an asshole here than he is in the anime/manga but I mostly just needed someone to fit into this role and I couldn’t bear to have any of 1-A do it cause I love them too much so here we are 😬