#i .. it's late. i hope it's coherent?

[frozen-seagrass]

The WALL-E au no one asked for

[shakingparadigm]

may i ask your opinions on what ivan is truly like ?

( without pretending to be someone or something else entirely ? )

Okay !! Finally back to answering asks !! Once again, please be mindful of the fact that these are mostly my own personal thoughts. Always take them with a grain of salt.

The thing is, Ivan is an incredibly difficult character. He was written to be complex and multi-faceted, literally having more than just one "face". His actions almost always have another layer of depth to them and he tends to contradict himself, further complicating people's perception of him. It's not easy to pin him down, and that was exactly the intent. They made sure that the viewers wouldn't be able to fully grasp his emotions.

( I find this fact rather funny, because in one of the behind posts QMENG herself says that sometimes Ivan does things she cannot understand. The creators just allow Ivan to be complicated. He is what he is, and while there are undoubtedly reasons for it, the full truth remains unknown to us. )

Regardless, this is what I personally think.

Ivan seems to define himself by his imperfection, so much so that his actions and perspectives are influenced by his deep self-hatred. It's established that Ivan is "lacking" something, he is fundamentally different from others. Ivan builds himself around this since he literally has nothing else. He defines himself by his lack of definition. The fact that he is different and needs to be "cured". Ivan grows attached to the qualities that he "lacks", drawn to the biggest personality in the garden like a moth to a flame. He is fascinated, not envious, and I think that says a lot about him. He places those qualities on a pedestal, believing them to be so much better than himself. He feels that it's something he will never achieve or deserve, something he can't have.

It's interesting that the only time we can pin Ivan as "envious" is not when he's faced with his opposite, but with his parallel. Someone he believed to be just like him.

One thing about Ivan is that he is (unsurprisingly) lonely. Since his entire life is defined by this feeling of separation from others (either literally through the segyein's selection or more intangibly through his mental and emotional difference from others), Ivan feels constantly isolated. Nobody has been able to properly understand him, which further worsens the feeling that something is wrong with him.

When he finally finds someone that he can relate with, it brings him a sense of relief. Note that when Ivan refers to (what he perceives as) their similarity, he uses derogatory language. Twisted. This is how he views himself.

( translation is by @sorrowcure ! )

Compared to his interactions with others, his confrontation with Sua is uncomfortably honest. Ivan is most critical with the person he relates to, further emphasizing how deeply critical he is of himself. Ivan is not envious of Till or Mizi, who are so fundamentally different from him, he's envious of Sua because she is just like him yet has something that he doesn't.

It may feel unfair for the one person you saw yourself in to accomplish something so out of your reach. Her love was reciprocated in full, adored and revered by the person she loved most. They weren't the same, after all. It reinforces what he always believed to be true: he was alone.

( translation by @/oreganocactus on Twitter! )

There are many other instances of Ivan's self-deprecation and low sense of self-worth that leak into his behavior, such as down-playing himself in his interview, referring to his own feelings as "shallow", convincing himself that he was never truly cared about, etc. His deep dissatisfaction of himself rises to the surface quite often, shown in the way that he takes pride in his achievements (his work), yet cannot view himself as a person in a positive light.

INTERVIEWER: What do you think is your charm?

IVAN: I can't really think of any, because I think I have more flaws (haha),

To me, a lot of the "actual" Ivan can be seen in his younger self. It's not a complete display of what Ivan is truly like, obviously. He was a child and hadn't yet developed in certain areas. Still, it's a period in Ivan's life where he didn't mask or play up a different image. The quiet, stoic, and blunt Ivan seems to be a more genuine side of him, at least compared to his more charming persona. QMENG considered Ivan with his hair down to be "most like himself", and I think it's no coincidence that the most memorable version of Ivan with his hair down is his child self. The infamous Bowl Cut Ivan.

With this fact in mind, I also find it no coincidence that in ROUND 6, where Ivan is presented as a "perfect actor" in costume, he starts off with his hair slicked back.

And when he finally drops the mask, when he acts out of his own volition, his hair falls onto his face. Hair down, most like himself.

Another notable instance of Ivan's hair being down is the casino/karaoke room scene, which was quoted as an example for Ivan's emotional immaturity, his supposed "childishness".

There's so much to be said about Ivan, including the neurodivergent/autistic traits that have been discussed by other people in more depth (notably his difficulty in understanding/expressing certain emotions, his masking, his often misconstrued actions, etc). There's also many of Ivan's more conflicting aspects (which seem mostly confined to the patreon? so I'm not sure if they're still planning to incorporate it into the publicly official content or if it was overhauled), but I'm going to stop here because I feel like this post is already pretty random and disconnected.

The gist of it is that I don't think I can give a solid answer on what Ivan is truly like. I'm not even sure if he can answer that, as he seems to be at war with himself quite frequently. Ivan, under his charming and cheery facade, is unable to feel or express emotion in the same way other people do, which causes difficulty and struggle in many other aspects of his life. Not like the one he has is completely his anyway, but, you know.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I do not understand people who think Greed Island arc is unimportant. First of all. Bisky. Second of all. It’s directly connected to Ging. Third of all. Some of the cutest and funniest Killua and Gon sillies before it all goes to hell.

But personally? I think it’s significant that Chimera Ant arc comes directly after it - plunking Gon from a video game, where things can be fixed and many of the personal consequences can be swept aside for the next big adventure, immediately to a war, where things can’t be fixed at all and the damage remains.

[sage-is-in-fact-very-tired]

[You Gotta Know That This Won't Last]

《▪︎▪︎》

TW/CW - Discussions of Death

《▪︎▪︎》

Or - Icarus Morningstar's will.

《▪︎▪︎》

The quill feels heavy in their hand - despite it being rather light.

The bandages (blood and potion stained alike) wrapped around their hands - their gloves, blood stained and littered with memories Icarus so desperately wants to shove away, long discarded - keep the quill from shifting in shaky hands.

Their eyes are unfocused, goggles discarded around their neck, and their hair loose and wild around their face. (It hangs too long. Icarus should cut it. Objectively speaking, they should. People could use it to their advantage if they get into a fight. People could hurt them really bad if they get ahold of his hair.)

(The only problem is that Icarus can't find the energy to care.)

(Icarus couldn't find the energy to do a lot.)

They're leaned against the table, quill hovering empty above the sheet of paper - their hand and forearm settled fully against the wood; their other hand tangled into knotted hair, elbow braced and tense against their desk. (The ink beside their arm was shifting colors, sporadic and glitching (just like their chest). It takes a moment, but eventually, Quixis seems to settle on a shimmering blue-ish purple.)

The tears bubble quietly, building and blurring their vision but never quite falling. A sob threatens to build, fall from their lips and spill every built-up emotion, but it never does - swallowed back and held at bay as they attempt to regin their breathing back in. (There was nobody here. Fable was out doing whatever he did when no one was there to watch. Rae wouldn't be coming back. No one could come in or out unless they were Icarus or Fable because of the Watchers. No one was here. They could cry. They were allowed to, here; like this.)

(The only problem is that if Icarus starts crying, they don't think they'll be able to stop.)

"It's-" Their voice is rough, coarse even to their own ears. Their ear-wings pull close, flinching slightly at the sound. (They haven't talked in a while. They didn't think they could, right now. Their throat still feels closed and tight and everything still seems too much. Powering through pain and discomfort to reassure themself and others was something they've gotten rather good at.) They swallow, closing their eyes for a moment before forcing them back open. The quill presses to the paper, but they don't move to write. "It's just in case." Their voice is breathy and quiet, and they're honestly surprised the tears haven't fallen quite yet. "It's- It's just in case. Because- Because he'll fix it. He'll fix it and I'll be- I'll be okay." They pause, squeezing their hair tight in their hand and pressing the quill impossibly deeper into the paper. "I'll be okay. It's- It's just in case."

(Icarus is dying. They all tried with Momboo - there is no fixing it. Centross fixed Ven. (Fable fixed himself.) But Centross was dead. And Icarus is starting to doubt Fable ever had plans to bring him back.)

(Maybe they'd even die near the cave.)

(What a horrible thought to think.)

They start writing with shaky hands, teary eyes, and a rabbit-ing heart; scrawling the blue-ish purple ink across the near inky white pages.

-----

Precautionary measures - Just in case anything were to happen suddenly.

-----

The words feel stilted despite the fact they were written down and not spoken; Icarus far out of their element.

(They were supposed to be dead anyway - what did it matter?)

(If they died, who cares? No one likes them anyway.)

(Wouldn't be the first time, either.)

-----

The last will of one Icarus Morningstar; prince and heir to both the Gilded and Morningstar kingdoms, and Creation's child.

-----

A few stray drops of blood fall off their chin, soaking into the paper and staining it. Ironic, considering the paper's content.

(Icarus was starting to really hate blood.)

They blink, letting out a small sigh as they read over the few words they've written.

(Calling themself Creation's child left a bitter taste in their mouth.)

-----

To

-----

They stare at the word, contemplating who's name should follow it.

(Contemplating if they even tried to add their father.)

(What more could he take, anyway?)

-----

Rae - I'm sure your science, overthinking brain is trying to figure out how you could've saved me - despite everything that's happened between us. I always loved you for that.

-----

Tears fall silently into the paper, their lip wobbling slightly.

-----

To you, my brother, I leave much. Mainly, any and all books related to Quixis and the Wack. As I'm sure you want to figure that out as much as I do. I also leave some nesting materials - you're stressed and gods know you need blankets and things of that sort to help calm you down.

To Athena - I'm sorry I've been kinda shitty. You didn't deserve that. But, there's not a lot I can do to make up for it now. (Because if you're reading this, I'm dead. Duh.) To you, I leave my potioning supplies. Books, ingredients, things of the like. And, like Rae, I also leave some nesting materials. I'm not quite sure what you put in your den - but, I hope the thought counts.

-----

(They don't think they like doing this anymore.)

Their hand was starting to hurt. Fingers tense and stiff with old scar tissue, and aching with the rain and cold that seemed to permeate around them.

(They just wanna go home.)

Their eyes seem to burn the longer the tears fall, the salty liquid soaking into the paper below.

(When did they stop thinking of this place like home?)

The ink seems to spread at every little drop, purple spreading into a deep blue.

(A while ago.)

-----

To Ari and Ven - I miss you guys. You really helped, during all of that. Even if me and Ari spent most of our time together arguing. It was a good distraction from everything else. To the two of you - anything of mine that was in the office. I know it's not much. But you can take whatever of it you'd like.

-----

They stare at their words a moment longer - scratching words into the bottom of the paper before promptly striking them out - before they toss the quill aside and fold the sheet up.

The dirt and dust from their table coats the outside of the paper, obscuring any ink that might've seeped through and making them move their focus to the dirt residing under talon-like nails. (There was blood under them too. They were trying not to think about that)

(They were failing.)

They swallow, huffing quietly as they stare at the folded will atop their desk. They weren't just going to leave it there, that wouldn't be a very fun conversation. They didn't really have another secure place to put it, however.

Well - they do suppose they can keep it on them. In their pocket. A constant reminder of what's to come.

And so, that's what they do; standing from their seat with creaky bones, stretching and shaking their wings out behind them, before grabbing the paper and placing it inside one of the inner pockets on their coat. (Despite the paper weighing hardly anything, it felt like weight after weight after weight had been added to their pocket.)

They sigh, shaking their head with a small noise.

They shift, turning and crossing the room to their nest in long strides. (The avian in them trills at their nest, even if it was mostly their own clothes and the periodic stolen Centross shirt. The more human part of them hates it; wants to break and destroy and tear apart.)

(The human part of them cares about what their father thinks.)

They shake their head, settling in with a small chirp - ignoring the weight in their pocket.

(They curl around something of Centross'. The scent and the texture and the everything about it making their bird brain so incredibly pleased and comforted.)

(It didn't even feel like they had just written their own will. Just written the very thing that no one wants to write.)

(Maybe it was for the best it didn't feel like they had just written it.)

-----

To Centross - To you, whatever is left of me. Bury me somewhere pretty, why don't you?

《▪︎▪︎》

[coquelicoq]

justice of toren collecting songs and one esk/breq constantly humming/singing them is such a good detail and ann leckie does so much with it. an incomplete list:

justice of toren's eager collection of songs is part and parcel of its violent destruction of cultures: these songs are cultural artifacts that it only learns because of its presence on those worlds during their conquest, and in many cases breq is the only one to remember them because their people have died out due to that violence. JoT preserves cultural artifacts for its own use at the same time it directly contributes to the need for that preservation in the first place.

the matter-of-fact way in which this is narrated to us gives us information about JoT's stance on respect and imperialism - that is, contrasted with other characters who look down on the conquered cultures, JoT does actually seem to appreciate their value. and yet it communicates to us no sense of remorse over its role in their genocide.

singing can be a communal activity. this allows us to feel the difference between one esk's multiple bodies singing together in harmony/in a round vs. breq singing alone. this has emotional weight, is an evocative image, and illustrates quite nicely some of the logistic considerations of having one vs. multiple bodies.

the constant humming/singing is extremely notable and idiosyncratic according to other characters, which is a dangerous combination for someone who's supposed to be undercover, so it adds a lil bit of fun suspense for us.

the fact that no one ever figures out breq's identity despite this giveaway tells us something about the other characters' attitudes towards artificial intelligences (though see below about seivarden).

the fact that it's so idiosyncratic also tells us something about the ability of individual AIs to have personalities that distinguish them from other AIs, and the fact that one esk sings constantly but two esk doesn't tells us something about the ability of different ancillary decades that are all part of the same AI to have distinguishing characteristics. this is very relevant to, and illustrative of, the series' thematic throughlines around identity, personality, continuity, etc.

the fact that breq personally has a bad voice also serves multiple purposes. because breq and seivarden both believe that the medic could have chosen a body with a good voice if she had wanted to, we can infer something about how ancillary bodies work, how much the AI (and, by extension, its medics) knows about the individual capabilities of those bodies while they're in suspension, and what kinds of things the AI can and can't control once it has unfrozen and taken over a body.

we can also draw conclusions about the medic that chose that body and about intracrew relations on that ship.

breq's bad voice creates moments of humor and irony in the narrative, such as when breq's constant singing - aka the most obvious clue that she is one esk - is precisely what makes seivarden so sure that breq can't be one esk, because no esk medic would use a body with a bad voice for an ancillary.

constant singing/humming imposes itself on the shared soundscape, meaning other people can't easily avoid it and it has the potential to annoy them, especially if the voice itself has annoying qualities. the reactions of other characters to the frequency and/or quality of this verbal tic tells us something about the level of affection those characters have for one esk or breq.

because singing involves words, the meaning of the lyrics being sung can be used to advance the plot, communicate things about specific characters, create irony in juxtaposition with what's happening on the page, etc.

i especially like what's done with the lyric "it all goes around". it's woven throughout the story in such a way as to manifest its own meaning (the repetition of "it all goes around" is, itself, an example of something going around). by repeating the lyric, breq is the one making it true, and i would argue that her repetition of this particular lyric about things orbiting other things contributes to, and/or is a sign of, her growing understanding of the necessity/reality of interdependence and her place in that framework/her role in constructing it, or in other words, the extent of her own agency and the rights and obligations it confers upon her.

because the singing/humming is a constant, background, automatic action, it only ceases when breq is experiencing a strong emotion. from this we are able to infer things about the emotional state of our famously-omits-details-about-her-emotional-state narrator based on other characters' comments about whether or not she is currently doing this thing.

we also aren't even aware that breq is doing it constantly until another character says so. on a narrative level, this serves the dual purpose of making sure we know about how much she hums AND of reminding us that she's not telling us everything.

the humming is not mentioned constantly even though it is happening constantly - this helps us forget in between mentions that it's going on while also simultaneously reinforcing just how constant it must be, so constant that to mention it every time it happens would be like narrating every time she breathes in or out. whenever someone brings it up, we are reminded anew that something has been happening all along that we forgot about. this means that ann leckie is able, by leaving information out, to hammer home to us how much we are not being told.

through this one character trait, ann leckie efficiently and elegantly communicates not just aspects of character but also of setting, plot, tone, theme, and narrative. there's no extraneous exposition just to tell us about the song collection or singing; everything that tells us about it is serving other functions in the narrative as well. the ways in which she manifests this one character trait in the universe and in the narrative contribute to and exemplify both the story itself and the method of its telling.

[shadowtriovibes]

i think i'm gonna love you (for a long, long time)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, oral sex, unsafe PIV sex, enemies to lovers, rivals with benefits, love confessions, slightly sentient Room of Requirement

Summary: request: "what if seb and reader have been academic rivals since they’ve started hogwarts, are basically enemies, and seemingly can’t stand each other. meanwhile everyone knows of their rivalry, BUT what they don’t know is that the two take their aggression out on each other by sleeping together … and maybe seb eventually admits his feelings when someone tries to flirt/sleep with reader and seb gets pissy and jealous…"

But not even three days had gone by before you were at it again – this time with Sebastian lifting you onto an unused potions stand and burying his face between your thighs. Afterward you heard yourself saying filthily enticing nonsense to Sebastian to coax him into pressing inside you, fucking you so hard that a whole stack of empty cauldrons next to you tipped over – and even then you didn’t stop. You have not and will not talk about it. "Take out your wand," you growl. "Take off your clothes," he counters.

To this day, neither you nor Sallow will admit which one of you found the Room of Requirement first.

If you ask him, he’ll swear up and down that he found it first. As his story goes, he’d been wandering the Astronomy Tower in a frenzy, pacing back and forth in front of that batty tapestry with the dancing trolls and thinking that he desperately needed somewhere where he could grow magical plants with the same kinds of results he would get back home in Feldcroft.

Sebastian isn’t exactly a green thumb, but he’s nevertheless determined to excel in Herbology, just like he does in all his classes. Magical plants are overflowing with life and therefore especially challenging to someone like Sebastian, who firmly believes that he can track down a book that will help him solve just about anything. But to succeed in Herbology, he needed planters, and good soil, and most of all a consistent climate like the temperate hamlet in which he grew up.

Then the Room of Requirement appeared, offering a spacious greenhouse-like room full of empty planters, limitless fertilizer and a shelf full of books on Herbology.

You, on the other hand, contend that he’s utterly full of it.

You had obviously found the Room of Requirement first because Professor Sharp had specifically mentioned its existence to you. (Of course, it was an attempt to stop you from lingering in his potions classroom at all hours trying to improve your brewing skills.)

When you had entered, you were greeted by an array of squeaky-clean cauldrons, a dozen potions stations, shelves of exotic ingredients in glass jars – even a hopping pot!

Neither of you had known that the other was aware of the Room’s existence until one late autumn evening in your sixth year when you’d both arrived at the same time to do some after-hours studying.

To say that you and Sallow had a complicated relationship is a severe understatement. Academic rivals, occasional friends, frequent adversaries… no one really knew where the two of you stood on any given day. By your sixth year, you both were competing to be at the top of your class and your friendship was extremely tenuous at best. The stress of your upcoming N.E.W.T. exams was tangible, and while neither of you said anything to the other, both of you felt overwhelmed – and you needed that Room.

You’d nearly dueled for it right there in the hallway, but then the door to the Room quickly appeared and inside you’d discovered that it had efficiently rearranged itself to suit both your needs.

You made a pact that the east wing full of bubbling potions and self-cleaning cauldrons was to be your domain, and the west wing’s long rows of planters bursting with plant life would be Sebastian’s. For the rest of the year, you’d simply tried to avoid each other as much as possible.

—

“You’re a right foul prick, you know that?” you tell Sebastian as the door to the Room slams shut behind you.

“What is it this time?” he asks lazily, trimming a few leaves off of a dittany plant without sparing you a glance.

“You cheated today at Crossed Wands,” you insist.

You shrug off your robes and drop your school bag to the floor, leaving your belongings in a messy heap feet from the Room’s entrance. As soon as Sebastian hears your bag hit the ground, he sets down his shears.

“You’ve finally gone mad,” he says simply. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

“You cheated,” you repeat. “Even Lucan thinks using Diffindo was a step too far.”

“I missed, didn’t I?” he reminds you as he turns around. “Though judging by the state of you, that’s hard to believe.”

Admittedly, you are quite disheveled. You’d practically sprinted up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower to give Sebastian a piece of your mind, and now you’re red-faced, a bit sweaty and your hair is a wild mess.

“I have half a mind to hex you right here, right now,” you seethe.

Sebastian rakes his gaze down your body and smirks.

“Did you come all this way just for a rematch?” he asks, his voice low.

That’s all it takes for the energy in the room to shift wildly.

You are not proud of this, but ever since the beginning of your seventh year, you and Sebastian have been sleeping together. It’s just a ridiculous amount of sex, really.

You can’t even remember how it started. You just remember that one day, the two of you were standing in the middle of your shared Room arguing ferociously about whether you could help yourself to some of the lacewing flies flitting around Sebastian’s Mallowsweet bushes.

The next thing you knew, your back was against a bookshelf and your arms were wrapped around Sebastian’s neck while he kissed you breathless. Moments later, your skirt was pushed up around your waist and he was pressing two fingers inside you and it was bloody brilliant.

After he’d deftly gotten you off and you’d returned the favor with your mouth, you quickly sprung apart and didn’t say a word to each other.

But not even three days had gone by before you were at it again – this time with Sebastian lifting you onto an unused potions stand and burying his face between your thighs. Afterward you heard yourself saying filthily enticing nonsense to Sebastian to coax him into pressing inside you, fucking you so hard that a whole stack of empty cauldrons next to you tipped over – and even then you didn’t stop.

You have not and will not talk about it.

“Take out your wand,” you growl.

“Take off your clothes,” he counters.

Your hands twitch at your sides as you consider your options. Wand or skirt? Vengeance, or satisfaction?

Sebastian looks entirely too satisfied with himself when you mumble a curse under your breath and reach behind you for the clasp of your skirt.

He quickly unbuttons his own shirt while you step out of your shoes and roll down your stockings. Lately whenever the two of you strip off your clothes, it turns into an unspoken race that Sebastian wins almost every time, though you insist it’s only because he doesn’t have to wear corsets.

At least he’s not too much of a prick to make you take off the offending garment yourself, even if it’s mostly an excuse to get his hands on your body as soon as he can.

Sebastian is still wrestling with the last hook on your corset when a door appears in the middle of the back wall of the Room, creaking open with absolutely no subtlety.

(You had both been horrifically embarrassed the first time the Room had offered you a bedroom, but since then you’ve grown to appreciate it.)

Sebastian roughly marches you inside and pushes you down on the bed. You snap at him to watch it, not so hard up for him that you won’t go and get your wand.

He simply raises an eyebrow at you like he doesn’t believe you and joins you on the bed, turning you over onto your stomach.

“I’m not a dog, Sallow,” you protest.

“Let me get a look at you first,” he explains. “Got you in the back at Cross Wands, I just want to check that it’s closed up.”

You fall silent at that. Rather than firing off a witty retort about how it’s so typical that he’d cast a spell at you with your back turned, you reach for a pillow and wad it up under your head, letting him trace his fingertips over a sensitive, freshly-healed burn wound on your shoulder blade.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright on your back?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” you answer, just as softly. “Poppy put some salve on it for me, it’s fine.”

“Good,” he murmurs.

Before he lets you turn around, he presses a soft kiss over the wound. It’s unsettling at first. It feels sweet, apologetic – possibly even claiming. Those are not words you associate with Sebastian Sallow of all people, who is brash and unrepentant and certainly not dependable.

(These are all things you remind yourself daily to try to stop being so stupidly, foolishly in love with him.)

Then it’s over, and he’s got you on your back with his hands on your tits while he’s determinedly tonguing at your clit, stubbornly set on making you come with just his mouth as if to prove that he can.

—

You’re in an especially foul mood several weeks later when Leander pulls you aside after Charms class.

“Can I help you?” you ask annoyedly.

Your patience for Prewett has gone down significantly since you were younger. As a spoiled young man about to enter the wizarding world, he’s become haughty and pretentious and remains not particularly talented.

He’s nothing like Sebastian, your lovesick brain tells you, which makes you sincerely sick of yourself as well.

“Perhaps you can,” he says teasingly. “I was thinking about going down to Hogsmeade this weekend and I wanted to invite you to join me.”

“I don’t have time, I need to study,” you tell him, trying to beg off.

“You do seem particularly aggrieved today,” Leander points out. “Why don’t you let me take you to the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer?”

“Leander, I’m just not interested,” you insist, moving to duck around him.

“Quit being ridiculous, we’ve been playing this little game for far too long,” he says arrogantly, reaching for your hand to stop you from walking off.

Before he can touch you, a fiery spell arcs through the air and lands squarely on Leander’s palm. He yelps in pain as he pulls back his hand, cradling it to his chest.

“What the bloody hell was that?!” he demands. “Did you do that?”

“I did, Prewett,” you hear Sebastian’s voice say.

You glance behind you and notice that he’s leaning far too casually against the wall outside of class, lazily spinning his wand in his fingers.

“You seem to have a really hard time understanding the word ‘no,’” Sebastian observes. “That thick-headedness, is that something all Gryffindors have, or is it just you?”

As a Gryffindor yourself, you shoot him a look.

“Bugger off, Sallow,” Leander replies. “This is none of your business, you prat.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Sebastian says, his voice formidably even. “If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, that’s very much my business.”

“Since when do you give a damn about her?” Leander challenges. “You two hate each other, everyone knows that.”

“We don’t,” you mumble. “Sebastian, he just – we’re competitive, that’s all. But we’re friends.”

“‘Competitive?’ He’s nowhere near your level,” Leander sneers.

Sebastian scoffs, and you brace for him to go on and on about his many accomplishments – all earned, of course – but instead he says, “Obviously, Prewett, as there’s no one in this entire school who’s good enough for her, myself included. But you don’t have to try so damn hard to fall to the bottom of the list.”

Good enough?

You blink, stunned. Leander looks bewildered as well, but then he demands, “Is that what this is about? You’re in love with her?”

“What?” you laugh. “Of course he’s not.”

“Of course I am,” Sebastian says easily. “Hopelessly, in fact.”

You must have fallen and smacked your head off the statue outside of class when Leander tried to grab you, you think. That’s the only way any of this makes any sense.

“You’re pathetic,” Leander guffaws. “Merlin, Sallow, I actually feel bad for you!”

Again, you brace yourself for Sebastian to throw a litany of devastating curses toward Leander, but instead he simply shrugs and tucks his wand away.

“Go right ahead, mate,” he says, reaching for your hand.

Mindlessly you let him take it, lacing his fingers with yours while Leander just gapes. Without another word, Sebastian leads you toward the stairs up to the Astronomy Tower, the small crowd of students who’d gathered to watch the whole debacle swiftly parting for him.

“Sebastian,” you hiss. “What were you thinking back there?”

“Evidently I wasn’t,” he says under his breath.

“You have to apologize to Leander, and tell him you were just joking,” you say anxiously, fretting the whole way up the stairs. “He’s going to tell the entire school otherwise, and they’re all going to believe that you–”

“That I’m in love with you?” he cuts you off. “Good.”

“Good?!” you sputter. “But it’s not true!”

Sebastian comes to an abrupt stop feet from the room to the Door, a dumbstruck look on his face. “What do you mean?”

“You aren’t in love with me,” you say deliberately, as if you’re trying to communicate with someone who’s been concussed by a Bludger. “You don’t even like me, you can barely stand me.”

He’s wordlessly watching you pace and rant at him, his expression drawing tighter.

“It’s different in the Room, that’s not – that’s just physical,” you insist. “I understand that, Sebastian.”

“That’s what you want?” he asks, his voice sounding rougher than usual. “Just meaningless sex?”

“That’s what it’s always been, hasn’t it?” you ask desperately.

You feel like you’re going a bit mad. You never talk, you just strip each other bare and cling to each other unrelentingly like anchors while you get each other off, you thought that that’s all you could ever expect from him.

“Not for me,” Sebastian says bitterly. “Not for a while.”

“You… you never told me,” you breathe, your fingers twitching at your sides as though your hands have to reach out for him.

“I was scared!” he shouts. “I knew you didn’t feel the same way and I didn’t want to stop, I couldn’t stop, so I didn’t tell you.”

Merlin, you’re both so damn stupid, you realize.

“But you’re wrong,” you tell him, still tensed up like you’re both about to draw wands at each other. “Sebastian, I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

Before either of you says another word, the door to the Room of Requirement swings open unprompted, and you become keenly aware of the sound of fourth-year students stomping up the stairs to their Astronomy lesson.

“Inside,” he murmurs, and the two of you quickly duck into your Room.

Sebastian reaches for you as soon as the door melts away. But this time instead of tugging off your tie or fumbling with the waistband of your skirt, he simply holds you against his chest, nose buried in your hair.

“Say it again,” he pleads.

“I love you,” you confess, lips pressed to the hollow of this throat. “I’m mad for you, Sebastian.”

“I need you,” he growls as his hands slide down from your back to your ass, easily sliding underneath your skirt. “I need you like this.”

He pulls you into a desperate kiss, and you can’t help but smile against each others’ lips when you hear that bedroom door creak open.

He marches you inside just like he had before, but this time you appreciate that his hands are gentle on your body as he maneuvers you toward the bed. You step out of your skirt and stockings and let him take off the rest, helping himself to slow, lazy kisses in between pulling garments off of you.

“Sebastian,” you eventually whine. “Hurry up.”

“Merlin, you’re still the same as before,” he laughs delightedly. “I’ll never catch a break with you, will I?”

“Never,” you grin.

Sebastian divests you of your corset and you lie down on the bed to watch him take off his own uniform. You’ve known him for so many years now, but in the past year, you’ve closely watched him grow from a boy into a man – solid, broad and deceptively tall.

“Come here,” you whisper, and he practically throws himself onto the bed.

“Can I ask you something?” he whispers against your jaw.

“Anything,” you breathe.

He pauses for a beat before murmuring, “Do you think it will be different now? Since we love each other?”

You pause to consider, but then you tell him, “I don’t think so, no.”

“Why’s that?” he asks curiously.

“Because we’ve been in love with each other this whole time,” you tell him softly. “So it’s not that different, really.”

Sebastian makes a heartbreakingly fond sound before he starts kissing down your body, single-minded in his quest to pleasure you.

You lose track of time while he’s licking you open, deliriously babbling words of praise and pleas for more until you realize you’ve both certainly missed your last class of the day. You don’t think you or Sebastian has ever missed a class, certainly not since your O.W.L.s, and now here you are with your legs spread and your love’s tongue on your clit and you can’t even remember what class you just missed.

He makes you come twice before he entertains the idea of letting you catch your breath, but he doesn’t give you much time to recover before he’s throwing your legs over his shoulders and sinking inside you, his brow furrowed and his mouth hanging open.

“Bastian,” you whine. “Please.”

He’s perhaps a touch too gentle with you at first, romanticizing your first time together as actual lovers rather than rivals letting off some steam.

But by now you’ve done sinful things in this bed more times than you can count, and you need the Sebastian who routinely whispers pure filth in your ear until you’re trembling on the edge of your climax – and he’s happy to deliver.

You’re nearly bent in half by the time he spills inside you, softly groaning your name. You slide a hand down your body to rub your clit and make yourself come one last time, desperate to reach your peak with him still inside you.

“Let me,” he grunts, nudging your hand away so he can finish you himself.

You’re completely spent by the time Sebastian pulls out of you and collapses next to you in bed. He tugs you against his chest and nudges a leg between yours, and that’s the first thing you notice that’s different than before.

You get to stay with him.

Despite knowing full well that you’ll surely miss dinner if you fall asleep, you both quickly drift off curled around each other, soaking in the peace and quiet of your Room.

—

The next morning, you and Sebastian wake up in a very different Room than the one you’ve occupied for the past two years.

Instead of a strict divide between your space and Sebastian’s, your bubbling cauldrons and bursting planters are tucked up together in thoughtful pairs — dittany next to the Wiggenweld cauldrons, knotgrass by your simmering Invisibility potions and so on.

“This is brilliant,” Sebastian observes after you get redressed and pace the length of the room together. “Why didn’t we do this earlier?”

You shoot him a withering look. “You know precisely why, Sallow.”

He laughs brightly and bumps his shoulder against yours.

“Regardless, good luck separating them now,” he murmurs. “What’s mine is yours, love.”

“What’s mine is yours,” you agree, a content smile on your lips.

[skoulsons]

Talking about the sniper section bc it’s. My heart feels like that house.

First, BEAUTIFULLY DONE. absolutely perfect, every part of it. But rewatching, Joel never stops watching Ellie. Not for a second. He’s watching where she’s going and he’s watching behind her for infected. When she’s knocked to the ground after Joel shoots the one clicker, she spots an open window in a van. Joel is watching her and sees where she’s looking and knows exactly where she’s trying to go. You see his eyes move to the left to see the van. And she knows he’ll kill all of the infected in her way. Because she trusts him. And because he won’t let her die.

And once Ellie’s in the van, Joel’s fire ceases except for killing the ones behind it. He is only looking out for her. Anything gets close to that van, he’s there immediately. There’s a shot of him after the bloater surfaces of him just watching. Not firing, just observing the van. Watching for infected. Keeping her safe.

And then one comes up, a young girl in a BLUES CLUES SHIRT, and you see the panic immediately on his face. He goes from completely still to shaking. He fires and he misses. His reload even feels rushed. His breath is shaky, hitching even. His entire face is trembling. And then the clicker is in the car and he can’t see it anymore. He can’t protect her anymore. And it cuts again to him taking two quick, rushed, and paralyzing breaths. He adjusts his grip on the gun because his hands are sweating. And now he, much like she had to minutes prior, has to trust that she can and will get out of this, as much as he wants to be the one to save her from it

Then it cuts to Joel again when she’s outside the van.

This is panic. Fear. This is not knowing what’s coming out of that van. If that clicker ate a hole in her neck and it’s the one escaping. The fear of not knowing her fate and if he just lost her again. Of not being able to protect her because he can’t see her through the windows of the van. The fear of so many uncertainties.

And this is relief. His shoulders have even fallen back slightly, relaxing. When he sees she’s out and closed the door on the clicker. That she’s, in a weird, twisted way, safe again. Because he can protect her again. Because he can, and will, kill every infected in her path.

And then she’s on the ground and they can see each other again. Ellie looks over to Henry and Sam and sees them struggling under the car. She can’t leave them. She reaches for her shiv and she looks to Joel in the house.

She’s determined. And he knows it. He can’t see them under the car, but he can guess what she’s saying. What she wants to do. What she’s asking him to do. To continue to protect her (like he’d ever stop), as dangerous and heart attack inducing as it will be for him to see her do this. And he makes a face that Pedro seems to make in every role he plays.

This face. This face, to me, means a plethora of different things depending on his role. But in this context, it’s more of a ‘fine, I’ll do it. I’ve got you’ one. He even nods slightly. Really slightly. Deep down, he wants them safe, too. It’s dangerous down there. It’s full of infected. And he’d like nothing more than to get out of there with her in one piece. But Ellie has a big heart. She cares about Henry and Sam. And Joel knows that. He’s seen how she’s been with Sam. Laughing with him, reading with him, signing with him, playing soccer with him. How long has it been since she’s been able to do this with another kid? But Ellie’s asks him just a little more. I need to get to them. Protect me.

And he does, of course he does. He kills five(?) clickers that touch her or get in her path. And he’s no longer shaking. He’s as stable as ever in firing. He nails every single shot, killing every clicker in her way. Ellie gets to Henry and Sam, killing the clicker on Henry and stabbing the one on Sam while Joel finishes it off. And he watches for any more that come their way. And once he sees they’re in the clear, he leaves and meets up with them immediately

Main point being - protective dad Joel <3

[the-kipsabian]

wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

[01432853]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JING BORAN 井柏然 ♡ 19.4.1989

@asiandramanet april creator bingo — layout & inspired by another creator:

inspired by ♡ / template & tutorial by ♡

[kihteyu]

I keep remembering how much the fandom was hoping Hunter would get stabbed in Watching and Dreaming and I just want to say that I'm so glad that never happened. His arc already ended in Thanks to Them and having him die a second time would not only be redundant, but it wouldn't make sense for his story since his ties with Belos were meant to have been metaphorically cut when he fought back against the possession and declared his independence. (Even if he got stabbed by Luz, the point still stands since she would have been representing Belos in the scenario you guys were thinking of.)

Secondly, I think a lot of the time fandom forgets that Hunter isn't actually Caleb. The show was not subtle in the fact that grimwalkers are not their ortet and that Belos was delusional in thinking they actually were his brother (i.e. him calling Hunter "Caleb", which was meant to feel uncomfortable and wrong). Yet fandom has a tendency to try and force Hunter into Caleb's role, just like Belos did, and act like he's a near perfect replica of him, even down to how their lives play out. I see a lot of headcanons that Hunter inherits a lot from Caleb, which could make sense in the way you inherit some things from your ancestors, but I also see a lot of people headcanoning him inheriting things like his fashion sense, skills, hobbies, personality, sexuality, etc., which absolutely do not make sense. Even a 100% genetic copy of someone (which the grimwalkers aren't even implied to be) would not have the same personality traits as their donor. Even if Hunter happened to have similarities to Caleb (aside from appearance), they would be purely coincidental.

A big aspect of Hunter's character arc is the idea of individuality and he gains this by establishing himself as someone other than what Belos kept forcing the grimwalkers to be and finally breaking the cycle of Belos killing "Caleb", instead getting to live on and have the freedom to develop into his own person. Having Hunter being killed in the same exact way Caleb had would have entirely refuted that point and it's unfair to keep comparing him to Caleb when he fought so hard to be someone else.

[platoapproved]

I read ur lesmand porn with plot and its lovely!! So lovely, the most in character thing i could ever hope for and also painful and hot and amazing :) However! I did not read the book and did magnus really…? Like i had NO idea that rape was a part of lestat’s turning bc its just not talked abt ig? Anyway im shocked and horrified. But you wrote about it beautifully, so that was fun

FIRST OF ALL, thank you so so so much anon, I'm very glad you enjoyed the fic! 😭 It makes me so happy knowing that people are getting something out of it 💚.

I'm going to answer your question under a read-more. It got pretty long... also, is this not a thing people are talking about? I have no idea, I'm just in my little fandom corner. But if anyone hasn't read the books and wants to know more - I'll get into it. Content warning for discussion of sexual assault and some upsetting book passages:

SO. It's surprisingly tricky to answer this but I'm going to do my best. Bear in mind I've only read like half of the books...

The surface-level simplest answer is no. In The Vampire Lestat, Magnus does not rape Lestat. In the books, vampires do not become aroused or have sex - like as a rule, biologically, they just can't. (Now, there is nuance here as well, because vampires DO still have sex in the books, it just involves them performing sex acts on humans with their mouths/hands/etc). This is a big change they've made in the show.

That being said, turning someone into a vampire non-consensually IS compared to rape throughout the series. Like not just in the case of Magnus and Lestat but elsewhere, too. Here are a couple examples of this from Prince Lestat (which I HAVEN'T EVEN READ YET I just looked these up because I knew Lestat's turning was discussed) talking about Lestat's turning:

Important to remember also that Prince Lestat was published in 2014 whereas The Vampire Lestat came out in 1985. It's nearly a 30 year gap; the first few books in the series are way way way less explicit and direct especially when it comes to sex.

So, there is that aspect of things. But most of all the language used in the passage around Lestat's turning is just... I obviously cannot speak for most readers but of the people I've spoken to and seen discussing it, it's fairly obvious the whole thing is written as a metaphor for rape. Like I feel like this is not an uncommon reading at all. Hey any other book readers who made it this far back me up on this.

A few passages in support of this. These are going to be wildly out of order but since I did a kind of re-telling of this scene in my fic, this is Lestat talking to Nicki about his turning:

Can't resist including a classic 'Nicki what the FUCK' moment.

As for the scenes with Magnus themselves! A lot of the stuff in my fic is just... straight up dialogue or actions of Magnus' lifted right out of the book.

-

I feel like that's enough to give you a sense of the general tone of the scene. There's other aspects that are imho meant to evoke sexual assault: Magnus puts Lestat on a bed and climbs on top of him to turn him, Lestat tries to fight him off, he tries (and fails) to resist the physical pleasure reaction humans feel when vampires drink from them, etc. I'd include more quotes but honestly at some point I'd just be copy-pasting the whole thing.

So... my answer is yes and no. I have no idea how they are going to handle all this in the show. Like it's a really pivotal moment for The Vampire Lestat and for Lestat as a character. I will honestly be shocked if in the show they don't change the metaphorical rape into a non-metaphorical one. Certainly it seems to me that the way Sam Reid has handled the acting any time Magnus comes up (Claudia asking questions, Armand mentioning him while Lestat is on stage, the tower scene in the season 2 finale, etc.) to me reads like they're going to take it that way.

Anyway wow fuck this is so many words sorry. I'm sure there are other people who have been book fans longer than me who could speak much more eloquently on this but I've done my best to answer. 😔

[cable-salamdr]

I’ve been fixated on Ninjago for 5 months now, and I have no idea what gi to draw them in. It changes every once or twice a season and I’m like 😔. How do you decide?

Oh wow that’s a very interesting question actually

For me, I just go by what season I’m thinking of drawing them in, because that also usually influences what I’m actually drawing (For example if I were to draw, I dunno, Nadakhan, then that would dictate that everyone should wear their season 6 gis); There are also a lot of instances where my drawings are just add ons or different renditions of an already existing scene, so I draw whatever they are wearing there.

However for anything else I sometimes don’t even end up drawing their gis. They are often complicated and I am lazy, so, instead, I put them into casual clothing (especially if what I’m drawing itself is casual/ doesn’t require them to wear their suits, I think it works really well to have them wear normal stuff because I guess it makes them also just normal people? Idk maybe that’s a bit of a very deep reason for something so silly.)

Anyways the point is that I think if the drawing isn’t directly correlating to a scene from the show, then drawing the gis isn’t particularly necessary unless you want to, in which case I could just pick whichever one is your favourite and go with that :] (one of my go-tos is always their gis from DR s1), and otherwise I’d pick the one that is most often shown in that season/ that they wear in sets and such

[general-cyno]

Hey hey have you ever thought about how zoro breaks his body again and again for Luffy gaining scar after scar loosing eyes and shit trying to keep up with Luffy and his devil fruit and sanji with his genetically modified body. Do you think zoro wonders what will be the thing that tips him over the edge into death??? Do you think Luffy does???

well hello to you too, anon! sorry that it took me a while to answer but I love this and ended up typing a lot. so, I also apologize in advance for the long-ish read.

but yeah! actually I was sort of thinking about it thanks to some twts I saw discussing thriller bark again. I gotta say, perhaps I have a bit of a less angsty view? because the thing is... zoro's a pretty straightforward and single-minded character, which doesn't mean he's flat or lacking in depth, but his overall thought process isn't extremely complex.

though zoro treasures his life (just like his swords, both which he needs to achieve his goals), he's not naive. he knows death is a real possibility, more so in the pursuit of his dream. zoro says as much to sanji back in baratie:

zoro doesn't seek death, the opposite actually, and he refuses to die in situations he finds dishonorable or out of his control, but he's come to terms with the idea of his own death. aside from that (or additionally), zoro's most prominent traits are rooted in his deep sense of commitment, devotion and loyalty to what he wants and believes in - namely his dream and his promise to kuina. this aspect of his character doesn't change imo, rather it broadens to encompass luffy and the crew as well.

all this to say that albeit I've called it a sacrifice myself, I don't think what zoro chooses to do for luffy or the crew would count (for him) as such. it's just what he believes he must do - to achieve his personal goals as much as to ensure luffy gets to fulfill his own and to protect the crew as a whole, because they've all become intertwined with zoro's dream to begin with. especially where it concerns luffy. what good is ambition if I can't even save the life of my own captain? indeed, for someone whose end goal is to become the strongest, what's the point of doing so if his strength doesn't allow him to protect those who are important to him? the person who is most important to him?

so when zoro chooses to keep pushing himself to train harder/become stronger, to do the exchange with kuma, beg mihawk to train him or agrees to do crazy stuff like take the drug that will help him recuperate enough to fight but will worsen his injuries/pain tenfold the moment the effect wears off in wano - they're not sources of regret or decisions he sees as tragic sacrifices. he's quite like luffy too, who's made similar choices along the story.

the angst of moments like "nothing happened" for me lies more on the implications of what could've happened (zoro dying for real), what eventually did (almost getting killed in sabaody, the crew's separation) and what luffy's reaction would've been if he'd found out. I do agree luffy would ultimately respect his decision, what I don't usually agree with is that he'd be immediately okay with it. the last thing luffy wants is to lose someone he loves, less so if they get hurt trying to protect him. points at his backstory, marineford and post marineford. this is exactly why sanji insists on not letting him know.

on the other hand, imo, zoro's not trying to keep up with luffy per se... how I see it, it's more like meeting him halfway. when you're faced with how powerful luffy's become nowadays, it's easy to forget he's not infallible. luffy has weaknesses and shortcomings too. post TS zoro is even more aware of both of their limitations (he's the one who's literally experienced luffy's pain as if it were his own) though he's also become more confident in their strength and the crew's as well. zoro will do his best to stand by luffy's side and protect him/their crew, but luffy has to measure up! zoro has no qualms about reminding and demanding him to get his shit together. zoro might not reach luffy's levels of raw strength (and I'd argue he doesn't need to), still, there's other ways in which he makes up for what luffy lacks or can't do in certain circumstances. so if you ask me, it's not about keeping up - it's meeting each other in the middle and striding forward together.

as for sanji, a similar thing applies. for all their petty rivalry and their roles as crew combatants, it's important to remember sanji's more of a nurturer (he is the cook, after all) and his dream of the all blue has little to do with strength, unlike zoro's. his genetic modifications don't really become an issue (for the crew) until wano and if anything, rather than this setting him above zoro in terms of power/abilities or turning into something zoro has to catch up with, sanji relies on zoro to keep him in line if he ever endangers the crew because of it.

all in all, I don't think zoro's the type to wonder what's gonna make him kick the bucket, though he knows dying is a realistic possibility. plus, he's not the only relatively Normal Guy who's ever become crazy strong among DF users and other enhanced characters. rayleigh is a very good point of reference as to what zoro is capable of becoming or achieving, and it's no coincidence they share a bunch of a similarities too.

AND FINALLY LUFFY. I rambled about this in the tags of a post a while back but luffy is a bit of a more complicated case imo. the manga doesn't exactly provide insight on luffy's inner thoughts/feelings (he voices most of them anyway) and though he's not naive in this aspect either, especially not post TS, the story rarely lets him witness situations in which zoro's vulnerable or in real danger of dying. this leads to him sometimes coming across as insensitive or being unfair (by having almost unrealistic expectations wrt zoro) but part of it is that he sees zoro bouncing back from the seemingly impossible more often than he sees him down.

however, the way he loses his goddamn mind when mihawk hurts zoro at baratie, when kizaru almost kills him and as kuma sends him away in sabaody, is a very good indicator of how he handles the idea of losing zoro which is - not well. at all. OPLA also gave us a more blatant example of this with the near dissociation, panic, losing his appetite and actively refusing to eat etc when zoro's wounded and unconscious after his duel with mihawk.

whether he thinks about zoro dying or not is probably more headcanon/fanfic territory, since it hasn't come up in the manga itself. even so, I do believe luffy's the type who... deliberately does Not ponder about sad or potentially upsetting things. one very brief moment that stood out to me while reading was this:

luffy not wanting to remember when garp left him on his own as a kid and straight up getting mushroom-high after being separated from his friends? man.

despite his cheerfulness and confidence, luffy is at his innermost terrified of losing the people he loves and hates the idea of being alone, ever since he was a kid. he begged ace not to die, has fought time and time again to rescue his friends and bring back those who've left. zoro's not just his first crew mate but he's also been the most long lasting and steady throughout the story. as some people have pointed out - zoro is the only one of the east blue gang who's never left the crew, even if the rest all had very understandable reasons for doing it each time. so on a more speculative note, after all the losses luffy's suffered, I'd say wondering when or how zoro will die is something he'd very much avoid. the thought's likely pretty devastating. instead, it's easier to put his entire trust and faith into believing zoro will pull through anything, like luffy says in dressrosa, and zoro would accept no less than that imo - because that's the kind of trust/faith he places in luffy as well.

lastly, about the scars and such... this is where zoro and luffy's similarities are highlighted. when it comes to all the choices they make wrt their dreams or protecting their friends, those luffy understands well. he's pretty much the same as zoro in this regard. that's why he refuses to let buggy interrupt zoro's fight with cabaji and stops johnny and yosaku from interfering in his duel against mihawk, even if seeing zoro get hurt upsets him greatly. zoro and luffy match in many ways, their dreams and determination to fulfill them is one of them, no matter what they have to do or how many scars they collect along their journey as a result.

[odo-apologist]

Smegtober #7: Sacrifice

     “I'd like to withdraw.” Nirvanah Crane stood in front of the desk in Platini's ready room. She kept her head held high and her gaze resolutely forward, past her superior and the incredulous expression he must be wearing.

     “I beg your pardon, Commander?”

     “I would like to withdraw from the competition against Arnold Rimmer, Captain.” She looked him in the eyes this time; she was right about the expression. He regarded her as though she had just told him that Titan orbited Pluto.

     “Commander Crane, you do understand the consequences of your withdrawal? That forfeiting this competition guarantees your termination?”

     Termination: such a sterile word for what will happen to her. They were going to kill her. She was going to die again. And unlike last time, there was no chance of revival.

     “I am completely aware of that, sir, and I stand by my decision. I do not make it lightly.”

     She had meant what she said to Arnold: she had never met someone like him. Truth be told, he fascinated her at first, but her feelings had developed quickly, alarmingly, into something more than just fascination. 

     Platini shook his head. “Commander, if you are resolved to go through with this course of action, so be it, even though I can't possibly understand why you'd commit to such a decision.”

     She didn't expect him to, nor did she expect any different from the others on board this ship. They viewed the world around them coldly and took their claimed perfection as a given. All of the relationships they had, that she herself had, lacked any depth. Arnold, for all his faults (and she could see he had quite a few; she wasn't a fool), let her get past the surface. He was vulnerable, he was desperate, and he was real in ways her crew had never felt to her. He held an earnestness behind his initial bluster–a quality lacking from her colleagues’ confidence which bordered on and tipped over into arrogance.

     She was never happy here, alone among strangers, and she would never be happy here, a realization made clearer by Arnold's arrival. However, maybe Arnold could. Finally granted something he confided to her that he wished for so fervently, perhaps he could thrive here. If her sacrifice ensured that, it wasn't a very difficult one to make. At least one of them might be satisfied.

     Platini turned back to his work, content to conclude the conversation. Eyes on the screen in front of him, he remarked, “You may report to the hologramatic deck with your decision, Commander. You were an adequate member of the crew and sexual partner.”

     “Yes, sir.” It was considered impolite, of course, not to return the sentiment, but she wasn't about to make the effort to lie. It wasn't like she would ever see him again. She turned and exited the room. No, she thought to herself as the door slid shut behind her and she headed towards the lift, they wouldn't understand.

[vero-niche]

with all these grim times going on with matakara where arajin is somewhat sidelined i almost forgot about the stone! the recurring item of the friendship/love stone!! the stone nobody else has appriciated only matakara!!!

im so sure arajin is going to bring back matakara with either the old stone he gave him as a kid or a new one he made (maybe even the one above that he meant for mahoro?) bc of this frame in the op too:

and it would be such an amazing move to mirror mahoro's disgusted reaction in ep1 with matakara regaining his kind self from it in ep12, something something not the love that arajin wanted but the one he needed to be brave again

[loadinghellsing]

How do you think Alucard and Anderson would confess their feelings to each other?

How do you think Anderson deals with coming to terms with his feelings towards Alucard?

When it comes to Alucard and Anderson's dynamic, majority of their feelings are understood without ever being spoken or directly acknowledged. So for them to confess, truly confess, I don't see it coming naturally to either of them. Alucard needs a shove, and Anderson needs a bit of coaxing.

(WARNING: LONG POST - goes into depth beneath cut)

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While Alucard shamelessly flirts with and praises Anderson at every opportunity. His admiration, awe, amusement, and thrill all evident. Because Anderson is a willing, capable opponent who shares beliefs parallel to Vlad's own. He's eager, passionate, and raw with his humanity. And he's capable of taking a hit and outliving those who are doomed by time alone. Alucard can endlessly adore him in specific and concept.

However, for Alucard to admit he loves Anderson. That he cares for him, both mentally and physically. Is an entirely different matter. To confess that he'd prioritize Anderson's needs over his own, is the type of commitment that distinguishes love (platonic or romantic), from obsession. It's an intimate and vulnerable feeling. So even if he acts on these emotions, the only way I see Alucard confessing to the hold Anderson has on his heart is when the honesty of that care is challenged.

It's confessed as a pained, furious scream. Not directed at Anderson, but at himself. Reflective of what it implies about his humanity, both past and present. It's confessing not only how important Anderson is to him, and the entirety of what that means. But it'd be a visceral moment where every word would burn his throat. Because it confesses how what remains of his humanity longs for Anderson, yet it's humanity he gave up. So it hardly matters, not when it all ends the same.

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Contrast of Alucard, is Anderson. He's a naturally caring person, and to a degree, he's honest about his feelings. Including those for Alucard. In the heat of combat, they're easily set aside. But provided a moment of calm, of comfort and safety; he wouldn't deny that truth. Confessed feelings with all the fondness, protectiveness, honesty, pity, and love he has. Perhaps tired and defeated by the weight of those words, but they'd be genuine in their entirety.

However, extracting a compliment-based confession from Anderson would be a near impossible feat. It's not a matter of him 'denying his feelings'. But the challenge of acknowledging those feelings in relation to Alucard being a vampiric monstrosity. And admitting that he finds such a creature beautiful,  a cosmic event functioning as a living force. A stunning, yet damning storm. It's a thought infinitely harder for Anderson to admit.

Any praise would be admitting his sins to the greatest sinner he knows. Perhaps over time, he'd make a quip or two. But it would remain a rare indulgence. He'd never be fully comfortable with it, but it's not entirely denied. Because it's a form of damnation he'd indulge in with Alucard. Since the idea of being condemned together isn't entirely unappealing.

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In the end, it's Anderson struggling with damnation, and Alucard struggling with salvation. It's hard to tell who's leading who. If ones falling or the others rising. Majority of their relationship is deciding it doesn't truly matter. They lie somewhere in the between, where it is neither night nor day.