#there's this one book I read in middle school that I think was actually non fiction?

[ofswordsandpens]

reblog this and put in the tags your favorite (or most memorable) mandatory reading from school

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @tinypaint

My name is Michelle Fus. I’m a Jewish, non-binary artist. I graduated from the School of Visual Arts for Computer Art and Animation in 2011. I’ve interned at Pixar and worked for a few years at Dreamworks Animation. Over the past ten years, I’ve self-published two books and have run three successful Kickstarters. I now work with Skybound (The Walking Dead, Invincible) in developing my webcomic, Ava’s Demon, as a physical book series for stores. I like hiking, cultivating plants, caring for my cats, and hanging out with my beautiful husband. You can read my webcomic at avasdemon.com.

Check out our interview with Michelle below!

How did you get your start in art, and more specifically, with Ava's Demon?

I’ve always been into art since I was very young. I started to gravitate towards it in first grade, where we were required to keep a daily journal. I found myself drawing in it more than actually keeping entries. From there, I got more and more interested in honing my skills as an artist. I started making my own comics for fun. I signed up for classes outside of school and put together a portfolio for the School of Visual Arts, where I majored in Computer Art and Animation. After getting my first job in the field, I realized that it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. After working my day job, I would come home and work towards building a career in comics for myself by creating and uploading my webcomic, Ava’s Demon.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Looking things up to learn more before I make art or write. For instance, how many livable planets are in a Galaxy? What does a black hole actually look like, and can it give off light? How long would it actually take to travel through space if you had the fastest ship possible? I look up all of these things and then ignore most of them for the sake of writing a fun story and making fun art.

From idea to final piece, how long does it take for you to create something?

It depends on the feeling I want to convey. Sometimes I’ll work for a whole week on a drawing and then delete it because I just don’t feel good about it. Other times I’ll make something in a day that I absolutely love from beginning to end. Some drawings I never delete nor finish, and instead, the files just kind of sit in a folder. The time it takes varies a lot.

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I really love good stories. So movies and books with captivating stories usually motivate and inspire me; stories that stay with you permanently, with twists and turns that you can’t stop thinking about. I also love finding characters whose struggles I can deeply relate to. I try to hold onto those feelings and emulate them through my art.

What is the hardest part of your process?

Actually finishing a drawing. The anxiety of it piles on me sometimes. I’ll work for a while on a drawing and constantly ask myself, “Is this drawing really finished? What terrible things about it am I not seeing?”. My desire to avoid making something terrible can sometimes put me in a mental prison where I keep chipping away at a drawing until I no longer know what I am looking at.

What is one interaction you had from a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

In general, I like letting young artists in middle school, and high school know that I wasn’t very good at art at their age (I really wasn’t, I didn’t have the same resources they have now, and I didn’t have any perspective on what it takes to have a career in art, it’s a different world). Kids have come to me at conventions with their work for critique and advice, and I have to tell them that they’re already miles ahead of what I could make at their age. I have to tell them that it’s okay if they can’t make what all the professionals make online, to know that they have SO much time ahead of them to work at what they love. If you love making art, do it often, study art throughout history, and over time you’ll be able to create everything your heart desires.

What is something other people find hard to draw that you find enjoyable?

I have no idea. Sometimes it feels like drawing anything is suffering, even if you like what you’re making.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@loish has been consistently inspiring me since my days in high school. Every new painting has so much grace and power and is so excellent to look at. Her skill in shape and form seems limitless, and I hope to someday achieve even a small fraction of her understanding of art. Seeing her new work on my timeline also makes my dopamine spike, so I’m always looking forward to updates from her.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Michelle! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @tinypaint and follow their webcomic, Ava’s Demon, over at avasdemon.com.

[earlgraytay]

I keep seeing discourse on my dash about whether or not we should be teaching ~challenging~/emotionally rough books in elementary and middle school, and I think there's a very important point that all of this discourse is eliding.

What counts as "too rough/traumatizing" heavily depends on the kid.

Two kids in the same class, from the same background, at the same developmental and reading level, might have wildly different reactions to a book. To take an example that's less likely to generate insufferable discourse than anything dealing with ~marginalization~:

Say you have two kids in the same class. One kid is a sensitive, sweet soul who loves dogs more than anything in the world. The other kid just lost their dog, is still grieving, and needs some catharsis.

Your class is supposed to read Old Yeller, or some other kids' book about The Death Of A Dog.

For the first kid, that book is likely to mess them up a little. It might seem like brutality for the sake of brutality. They might not fully understand the concept of death yet, or they may not be ready to grapple with the idea that dogs can die. It might be something they need to read, even if it'd mess them up- but it might also just hurt without any real benefit.

For the second kid... whether they're ready to read that book would heavily depend on how they're grieving and whether they're ready to think about a dog dying. It might trigger them and make them feel worse. But it might actually be helpful for them and make them feel less alone. Other kids have had to deal with their dogs dying and have lived through it. It might give them emotional tools they need to get through this.

But unless you know these kids really well and have the chance to tailor how you teach the book to them? You're likely to screw both of them up without any real benefit.

If they have to fill out fifty million worksheets about What The Dog Dying Means In Old Yeller, they're going to have to think about something they're not ready to think about over and over again. They're not likely to learn whatever you're trying to teach them about death or empathy or tragedy- they're just going to remember that English class was about depressing books about dogs dying and remember how much it hurt to get through. And they're going to be put off reading anything you might read in English class, because it's just going to hurt, right?

The one-size-fits-all model of education most schools are being forced to adopt means that we can't mold what kids read around what they need and are ready to hear; we have to make every kid read the same thing, at the same pace, with the same worksheets.

You can't decide, 'hey, this kid might not be ready for this particular book, here's a book that hits some of the same thematic notes but is less graphic'.

You can't take the time to make sure that a student who's reading a book that might be rough for them is okay, give them time to decompress and debrief, or let them process what they're having to deal with. You can't let them take a break from the book after they hit a point that is graphic or triggering. You can't let them sit with their feelings about it.

You can't take the time to make sure that the marginalized students in the class are okay after reading a book about oppression that affected people like them, or take the time to make sure that their non-marginalized classmates who said boneheaded things about the book know why what they said wasn't okay without publically yelling at them.

Hell, you can't even choose books based around what your students would be interested in and want to read. You have to make a lesson plan to teach like 50 students; you don't have time to pick things based around their individual likes and dislikes.

Nope. It's just on to the next book, the next worksheet, the next test.

Teachers are forced to take on classes that are way too big for any one person to manage, teach emotionally hefty books without giving kids time to process what they've learnt, and teach to tests instead of giving kids time to empathize and understand.

The problem is not specific books. The problem is not privileged people's fragility. The problem is not even individual teachers. The problem is a systemic problem with how American schools teach literature.

Until we fix the system? Yeah, plenty of kids are gonna get fucked up from reading Lord of the Flies or Where the Red Fern Grows when they're not ready to tackle it. Because their teachers do not have the time or spoons to gauge whether they're ready, and do not have the luxury of letting their students deal with things at their own pace.

[theoceansluvr]

Llyod Garmadon x Reader

warnings; daddy issues and trauma.. it's llyod what do you expect? author's notes; by popular demand, aka one of my favorite ppl told me i should do it, my ninjago obsession !!! was gonna keep this to myself bc this is the nerdiest thing i will ever write on this blog but <9 kind of a mix of relationship hcs and regular old hcs

oooo he's so sweet i can't even describe it

doesn't really know how to do typical couple things i fear

mainly because he's scared that your either with him due to some ulterior motive or you'll get scared of him considering his past and father-

please please reassure this poor boy he's on the brink of a collapse from overthinking it

onto the normal, non sad headcanons !

biggest pillow fort building fan

most of you dates consist of sitting in one and watching really bad horror movies

oh and carmel popcorn !

if we're using the idea of him not being a lil Lego guy, he'd be one of those dudes with the BIGGEST Lego collection

(do i talk about Legos too much in my headcanons ???)

he will actually sit down and tell you about how long each of them took in full detail it's adorable

makes you a playlist every other day fr

i know that's more of a Cole thing but i like to think music is one of his ways to relax so he has some crazy good music taste

you guys have those frog build a bears or just any build a bear honestly

but he reminds me of the frog

you know those cute little Lego hearts ? you guys would have those

his is your favorite color and yours is green

he would totally walk you to class but would absolutely be nervous because he's not exactly the class favorite..

but you don't mind !

really creative when it comes to gifts and whatnot

like handmade cards and stuff like that

sort of went over dates already BUT

COMIC STORE DATES !!!

i will argue with nobody over this one either

probably a Marvel fan

would ironically like green latern though

doesn't really mind pda but absolutely isn't used to it

but in private he's the biggest cuddler

really, really likes when you play with his hair

i have zero explanation for this except for because i said so

based on art from one of my favorite artists on insta he would unironically wear those middle school boy minecraft fits

i love him dearly but the gods know he does

dyed his hair with koolaid once and it absolutely made him want to ACTUALLY dye it

likes when you read to him

it could be the most boring book on the planet and he'd know lay there and listen to you

knows how to play drums ???

definitely would teach you too

likes taking naps with you because he's chronically sleep deprived

fighting your dad and his henchmen doesn't come cheap im afraid

i could write about him for hours and hours but im sure people would get bored of that !!

all in all he's one of my favorite childhood crushes and i missed him so hard

[inawickedlittletown]

Handsome Little Bookworm (BuckTommy) - one-shot

Summary: In which Buck discovers how avid of a reader Tommy is.

BuckTommy Positivity Week Day 4: hobbies and dates

Rated: G

Words: 1.1k

@bucktommypositivityweek

-

Read on Ao3

Buck realized fairly quickly that his boyfriend was a romantic. He didn’t seem to think that he deserved romance or that anyone would be willing to go to all that trouble for him, but he certainly loved to watch romcoms and he read more romance books than anyone that Buck had ever met. The first time he was invited over to Tommy’s house he’d zeroed in on the built in bookshelves that held both books and DVDs. He’d been interested right away, especially because of the insight that it might give him to Tommy. 

“This is quite the collection,” Buck had muttered as he perused the movies. “Chimney did say you were a big movie guy.” 

“When you grew up the way I did, escapism is all you really have, Evan.” 

Buck nodded. “I went with the route that kept me out of the house until I broke something. Usually my bones.”

“Evan,” Tommy said, exasperated.  

“I don’t do that anymore.” 

When he got to the book section of the bookshelf, Buck pulled out a dark blue book with white writing that read Boyfriend Material. 

“Is this a guide? Do I make the cut?” Buck asked. 

Tommy plucked the book from his hands and returned it to its spot. It brought him close enough that Buck could smell his cologne. It was earthy and warm and Buck wanted nothing more than to press himself up against him and maybe turn around and kiss him silly. 

“You are definitely boyfriend material,” Tommy responded and he took a step away from Buck. 

Buck knew he was blushing and thinking about how it hadn’t even a week since they had defined what they were doing. After not having had a boyfriend his whole life, it felt amazing to actually have one. Some might say it sounded a little juvenile, but Buck loved it. He loved that Tommy was his boyfriend. 

Buck ran his fingers over the spines of a few more books and slowly came to the conclusion that half the books Tommy owned were romance novels. It was a little unexpected, and Buck didn’t know what he had expected to find on Tommy’s shelves because Tommy had never struck him as someone that spent their time reading non-fiction or the thrillers that had become popular due to all the true crime podcasts. Maybe he just hadn’t expected Tommy to be very invested in reading. Romance books made sense, though. So did the mix of sci-fi/fantasy. 

“So which of these is your favorite?” Buck asked. 

“I don’t think I have a favorite,” Tommy admitted. 

Buck glared at him. “Which one have you read more than once?” 

“Not that many.” 

Buck perused the books himself, looking for one that might be a little more worn than the others. It was difficult entirely because Tommy seemed to take meticulous care of his books. But, of course he did. He had an entire section made up of classics whose titles Buck recognized from reading lists at school. Going up a few shelves, two books whose pages faced out caught his attention. Buck could understand putting the books that way on the shelf because the edges of the pages were pretty. He grabbed them both out. 

The books were by the same author, TJ Klune. The covers were cartoonish in a way. One featured a house at the end of a cliff and the other a house in the middle of a forest that looked entirely like it was ready to collapse. He looked at the back cover of one and then the other. 

“These sound interesting,” he offered. 

“They’re very good. Your favorite?” 

“Nope.”

Buck hummed and put them back. He grabbed another book at random. Less. The cover featured a suited up guy falling backwards. 

Next he looked at a very thick white book with some kind of ship on the cover. And then The Hunger Games which Buck had actually read. A Sherlock Holmes story collection and a few books by Andy Weir. He recognized The Martian because he’d seen Hen reading it a few years back. 

“Have you read everything on here?” 

“Most of them,” Tommy said. 

“Hmm, I think I like knowing my boyfriend is well read,” Buck said as he put Good Omens back in its place. 

Tommy snorted. “If you count romance and speculative fiction well read.” 

“You read more than me.” 

“And I bet if we found a book in a topic you found interesting, you’d be in a deep dive,” Tommy said. 

Buck didn’t deny it. He did smirk at Tommy and pull him into a kiss. “How about we keep you my handsome little bookworm.” 

The rest of the tour of Tommy’s house resulted in Buck finding even more books. He hadn’t been looking, it was just that Tommy had books literally everywhere. He had another bookshelf in his bedroom and a small pile on his bedside table. He had cooking books in the kitchen, even. It was cute and Buck had no idea when Tommy made time for reading, but he did. He knew that he took a book to work with him for the downtime in between calls, but with everything else Tommy did, it was still shocking how many books he got through. 

In the months that followed, everytime he stayed the night, he found that Tommy had already finished the book he’d previously had on his bedside table and that it had been replaced with something entirely new. He liked looking at the current book and asking Tommy to tell him about it. 

As far as hobbies went, reading was not one that Buck had expected to find hot. Not like Muay Thai which involved tight shorts and a very sweaty and delicious looking Tommy, or even Tommy tinkering away at a car wearing a backwards cap and a tight tanktop that would invariably get covered in oil or grease stains. Buck just hadn’t known what it would do to him to know that Tommy wore reading glasses. 

He’d kissed him about it and begged him to keep the glasses on during sex that night. He had absolutely no regrets about it. 

Buck was also a little amazed by how much of Tommy’s mail consisted of books getting delivered to him. Or how whenever they went anywhere that had a local bookstore they had to make time to go inside and peruse the wares. Tommy always bought at least one book. 

Some of the best nights were the quiet nights where Buck had his headphones on and he watched a documentary or dived into his research and next to him, glasses perched on his nose and a book open in his hands was Tommy. Buck could picture them doing that for years. 

He could see it so well, the two of them a bit older sharing in each other’s space but doing their own thing. Occasionally sharing a smile or a kiss maybe with rings on each other’s fingers to top it all off.  

[communistkenobi]

Obviously art does not rest on methods, media, or the amount of effort a person exerted in making it, but I think AI art is yet another way that capitalism is changing the form and function of art (separating artworks from their original meaning on a different and even larger scale) and given that it is made by exploiting workers (the original artists and the people they pay pennies to sort through it to remove disturbing images) it makes people feel yet more powerless in the face of corporations so there is a big negative reaction to it. This negative reaction may not be articulated in the way you want but I think it's very understandable that people have reactionary feelings about large scale corporate exploitation.

just for the record before I respond, I am replying to this ask in good faith just as you are asking in good faith, I’m not angry at you and many of these questions I’m asking are rhetorical, for the purposes of reflection. So please no slapfighting in the notes, thank you!

First: I’m not disputing exploitation. in fact privileging AI as uniquely exploitative handwaves away the massive amount of exploitation that artists already endure and have endured for a very long time, as well as the horrific amounts of labour exploitation involved in mass producing the ‘tools of the trade’ so to speak.

But this is, again, a non-sequitur to my argument, which is that art produced under exploitative, destructive, “lazy” or politically repugnant conditions is still art. MCU films are art regardless of the fact that they are 3-hour long informercials for the American empire and require massive labour exploitation from CGI animators, actors, film set workers, and everything else: advertisements are art: AI art is art. Horrifying, trite, unoriginal, bad, socially destructive, maybe all of those things are true and we can talk about the merits of those claims (I certainly have strong opinions about them), but what is politically gained from saying bad, unoriginal, horrifying, or trite art isn’t art? Whose definitions are we using here, and if those definitions should be universalised, what does it mean for artists who are only unoriginal, only bad, only whatever else?

I return to my original example: are children not qualified to be artists if they only make “bad” art? I used to trace movie stills from Harry Potter photo books as a child because I loved the characters - am I a fraud for doing so? Am I given grace for my incompetence and “theft” on the basis of me “still learning how to do real art”? When does this grace period end? If we argue that only struggle can produce art, what level of struggle? Struggle for whom? Drawing isn’t difficult for me because I was taught how to hold a pencil, read, write, and draw by a western industrial publicly-funded primary school by a teacher paid with public tax dollars, supplemented with help every night from my mother and father, two married cishet middle class people in a mostly stable (if miserable and verbally abusive) marriage - all of which is resting atop stolen indigenous land. Under what historical conditions can arguments for artistic struggle be made? When we argue for struggle(/hard work/whatever) as the basis of art we are pre-supposing a universal subject whose struggle is globally standardized and calculable - which in all of these discussions on here is (implicitly, though sometimes explicitly) a white able-bodied settler living in a western state who benefits from universal primary education that teaches them the foundational skills of how to make art. You can probably add university educated to that too, given how many of these arguments seem to be swarmed by undergraduate students.

Arguing that there needs to be some threshold for method, labour, intent, or message for art to ‘actually be art’ is politically reactionary and is what I am responding to. It requires transcendental claims about the Artist as a unique labourer set apart from and superior to all others, one whose skills are universalised and whose intent is always observable and present in their work. So if people want to talk about exploitation they should talk about exploitation, not the definition of art. It’s not my fault people can’t stay on topic!

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

I've always been curious. How much does the English curriculum focus on reading and comprehension compared to analysis of literature in non-English speaking countries? I imagine it's not until the last few years of school that things like Shakespeare are even remotely considered something worth teaching.

How do I answer this without turning it into a TEDtalk...

SO.

The QUICK answer is: It depends.

It depends on the country. It depends on the school. It depends on the curriculum.

I'm afraid you've fallen into the hole called 'non-English speaking countries' - and referring to them under a single umbrella... when in reality, the curriculum of, say, Japan's EFL education and Norway's EFL education are WILDLY different. Hell, even the Philippines and Japan are more different than you might suspect.

Personally, as someone who has taught English as a Foreign Language in high school in Japan (albeit briefly, it was a one-year contract to fill in for another teacher who left the position due to COVID stuff, most of the time I'm an Elementary School teacher), I can tell you that 99% of the high schools in Japan will not have Shakespeare ANYWHERE on their curriculum. Most people in Japan will never run across Shakespeare unless they take a specialized class... probably IN UNIVERSITY.

Shakespeare is a difficult, antiquated form of English. It does not appear on any standardized testing. Why would anyone except native speakers take the time to learn it?

The LONGER answer is:

Students in English-speaking countries enter school knowing how to speak English.

I know there's a tendency to think of 6 year olds as these dum-dums who say things like 'I goed school' but anyone who has actively spent more than 10 minutes around a first grader will know that, barring developmental difficulties and learning disabilities, they actually speak using full sentences and correct grammar 99% of the time.

Schools in areas where English is already spoken natively can focus on:

spelling (oh gods English spelling is a fucking mess, I'm so sorry children I am SO sorry)

punctuation (spoken language doesn't have punctuation, so we have to teach kids to convert pauses and concepts into commas and sentence breaks)

written format (and various ways to apply it in different situations)

literature (famous books, novels, stories which are considered a good serving platter of concepts like analysis and metaphor and other tools we use to make written communication effective and interesting)

Schools in areas where English is NOT spoken must FIRST focus on:

Words (they must memorize on average 2000 to have a basic understanding down)

Pronunciation (each language has different sounds, and English has a LOT of weird sounds that many foreign speakers don't know how to produce... and it takes practice)

Basic grammar (Thing goes first. Doing-action-word goes next. Thing-that-has-action-done-to-it usually goes after that. Sometimes we have a time word that goes-- oh god how do you explain this to an 11 year old oh god)

Maybe spelling by the end of elementary school (my 5th graders only know how to write basic 3-4 letter words)

Basic reading, grammar and punctuation by the end of middle school, along with basic conversational skills

Ability to write a whole sentence, maybe a paragraph, by the time they finish middle school

High school is basically just reviewing more complex grammar because holy fuck is there a lot of it

Shakespeare? Who the FUCK has time for that?! These kids are still struggling to understand how a gerund works!

Things that native English speakers know on instinct, like the fact that this is a weird sentence:

the red big dog sits on the car

(vs the big red dog sits in the car)

...must be taught, little by little, to non-native English speakers, which takes TIME TIME TIME.

So next time you meet someone who speaks English as a second language - I need you to be kind to them. I need you to be thoughtful. And I need you to be thankful you were able to learn all these crazy ass grammar rules and spelling when you were still a young child and your brain was silly-putty in the shape of a vacuum that sucked up vocabulary.

.............fuck ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ᵀᴱᴰᵗᵃˡᵏ

[yarameijer]

Hello!! I just wanted to say i love your fics so much, when i first saw it in around 2022, i was amazed! Your writing style is so good, and it inspired me to be able to write fanfics aswell. I've gotta say, your fics are very interesting and entertaining! My most favorite fic of yours is probably Warped and Accidental Reverse. (I re-read those stories atleast 54 times i think?) Anyway, i was thinking if you had any headcanons for the Gryphon Trio? (Tsurugi, Tenma, Shindou) Also, if possible, DONT ABANDON ACCIDENTAL REVERSE PLZ🙏

Heyhey! Thank you for all the kind things you said <3 and good luck with your own fanfics!

Ohoho you don’t wanna know how many people asked for headcanons for these three and it took me ages because apparently I’m very bad at coming up with headcanons?? Who knew??

Tenma loves hugs

This means that when he gets excited he tries to tackle Tsurugi with hugs, and Tsurugi normally tries to evade him but every once in a while is caught off guard and then has to deal with octopus-Tenma

As time goes on Tsurugi starts accepting physical affection a bit more, but he's still a tsundere about it

It’s actually quite the normal sight for Tenma to hang off of Tsurgi if he gets the chance

Tenma’s less quick to hug Shindou, and for the first few months in their friendship, hugging Shindou is a very big no! in his mind because that’s his senpai, he can’t just hug him!

Over time the two of them grow more comfortable with each other and after talking out a pretty major argument (that I will be writing at some point) they hug for the first time, and get more comfortable doing so

Tenma’s still kinda shy about it tho so Shindou’s usually the instigator

Tenma is a bit more hesitant to tackle-hug Shindou than Tsurugi

Shindou is actually quite quick with giving minor physical affection! Usually shoulder touches during excitable moments, whether that’s after scoring a goal during a match or when one of his friends is upset - think light squeezes or just laying his hand on someone’s shoulder

They all live on different sides of Inazuma Town and the riverside soccer field is more or less in the middle of their houses, so if they want to meet up for soccer outside of school, that’s where they go

Usually when they hang out for non-soccer activities, they just agree to meet at the place they’re going

They like hanging out at Tenma’s place because Aki always has the best snacks, they like hanging out at Tsurugi’s place because his parents usually are working so they’ve got the place to themselves, and they don’t like hanging out at Shindou’s place because Tenma and Tsurugi feel very out of place

Despite that, Tsurugi and Tenma love listening to Shindou playing the piano

Shindou has the worst sleeping schedule out of all of them because he gets caught up in whatever he’s doing (reading a book, ridiculous research on whatever caught his attention this time, thinking up hissatsu techniques or strategies for the team, etc.) and Tenma and Tsurugi judge him for it

Tenma and Tsurugi had a lot of fun training for Fire Tornado Double Drive and end up continuing their hissatsu training together in their free time

They don’t tell anyone about it but Shindou figures it out when they keep coming to him for ‘’hypothetical’’ hissatsu questions

Tsurugi, every chance he gets, rubs in the fact that he’s the tallest out of the three of them

He bullies Tenma by raising his hand too high for high-fives or keeping things above his head out of his reach

He tries the same thing with Shindou, but every time Shindou just stares at him wordlessly, incredibly unimpressed, until he lowers his hand

In fact, Tsurugi is not that much taller than Shindou, but still the one time Shindou tried pulling the ‘’I’m older’’ card in an argument, he didn’t hesitate to play the ‘’then why are you so short’’ card and Shindou didn’t talk to him for two days

Shindou and Tsurugi also have this habit of high-fiving without looking (‘’because they think it makes them look cool’’ ‘’Tenma shut up’’) but one time they missed and Shindou slapped Tsurugi in the face by accident

It was during a match so it got caught on camera and every once in a while Tenma sends it in whatever group chat they’re all in (Earth Eleven, Raimon, etc.) to humble them

Tenma’s a lot quicker to tease them both in group chats than face-to-face

In person, Shindou is the one who teases the others the most, because their reactions are very funny

Tenma gets very shy and starts stuttering

Tsurugi tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him but he’s also very pale and it’s very easy to see when he turns red

For Tenma and Tsurugi both Shindou is (one of) their go-to person(s) for advice, although Tsurugi is a lot more quiet and subtle about it than Tenma

I’ll probably add to this later, because recently I’ve really been building these characters to my liking and I’m starting to notice that it’s easier to come up with this stuff once I’ve developed them more individually.

That being said, I should probably do headcanon lists for them individually!

[myloveforhergoeson]

minnesota

a non-exhaustive list (trust me i have way more) of hcs about the btrtv boys' lives pre-canon as inspired by @partiallypearl 's post here. mostly a mix of things i think fit them, wrote about in my fic, or are briefly touched upon in the show's true canon and never expanded on :)

carlos is super into animals; has a feeder outside his window so he can watch all the different birds from the forest each morning before he goes to school! his family has a large, playful dalmatian puppy named missy he walks in the mornings at the local park

james and carlos were the only two to participate in a sport other than hockey during the summer time - the two of them played flag football in the park ^

the boys all met at a pee wee hockey meet when they were four and they were placed by chance on the same team; they've played every position + have settled into their roles by the time they make the varsity team in high school

kendall is the youngest varsity hockey captain their school has ever had

on top of hockey, logan is in nearly every club imaginable to make sure his med school applications look good - he's running from AV club to chess club to the future doctors of america club to dnd club . his afterschool days are fully booked up, making it hard to spend time with his friends outside of hockey

james participates in local + high school theater as a way to curb his wannabe ways and not annoy his friends about it too much. started with strictly wanting to be an actor until his voice dropped + he realized he could sing in his last year of middle school

^ carlos, kendall, and logan helped him break into the musical world by joining freshman choir. everyone but james hated it.

^^ the choir and drama clubs teamed up that year and all four of them had to be in a production of grease :)

if he's not at hockey, kendall can usually be found either at work or watching his little sister <3

the knight's house is the unofficial official hang out spot for all of the guys. it's littered with remanence of all four boys from logan's med school fliers on the counter, james' beauty products in the guest bathroom, kendall's family photos from his best games + katie's big achievements, and carlos' sports equipment hung up by the backdoor

one of the other guys on the hockey team teaches james how to drive but his mother won't let him take the test to get his license

logan's moms don't call him hortense. they also call him logan.

the mitchell family has a cat named hippocrates <3

carlos + logan would always hunt for crawdads in the local rivers during the summer; carlos thought they were cool and logan wanted to study them

despite being only children, logan and james never actually felt that they were

carlos has three older sisters!!!!!!

of the four, carlos is the oldest, than james, then kendall, with logan being the "baby"

winning hockey games is usually celebrated by the team at a local pizza place, but the boys go out of their way to go there if another one of them succeeds in an area outside of sports to celebrate, like scoring well on a super hard test or getting a major role in a theater production!

that's all for now, but if you liked these, this is a not so cheeky spon for my fic that's all the wrote... if you don't want to read the whole thing, chapter 28 takes place in Minnesota + can be read as a one shot with sections special for each of the guys <3 lmk what you think if you read <3

[revasserium]

a rumination on falling in love; aka the terrifying and strange reality of "dream girl" becoming "real girl"

or, what happens when an only child who has only ever loved in fiction falls in love in real life instead

this is not for you. unless, of course. you, like me, have felt like this before. which is to say, this might be for you. but it most definitely is, 100%, for me. so read on if you'd like. or, close out and move right along.

i am very lucky, i think, to have had the childhood that i had -- only child, two loving parents. but not only that, two loving parents who were good at loving and also good at parenting (which are two very distinct and different things and somehow, at least in my semi-limited exposure to people around my age, is becoming rarer and rarer these days). i am lucky to have been allowed to grow as i have -- to never question that i am loved, unconditionally and endlessly, to never question whether or not i have something -- because of course it's mine -- i've got no siblings to have to share anything with.

now, to some, that might be a sad, lonely thing, but i never thought about it that way. because i was never taught to think about it that way. and contrary to popular belief, it hasn't made me (or at least so i think) stingy or "bad at sharing" -- it's actually made me rather an over-sharer. i always have snacks at the office, i try to offer advice freely, i spot dinners/outings when i can, i like the joy it brings to share things not only to the people being shared with, but also to me -- the person doing the sharing.

but the double-edged sword of only-child-dom in upper-middle class america is time -- the huge, gaping excess of it, giant swaths of it after school, great big chunks of it on the weekends, the seemingly unbridgeable chasm between turning off the light and falling asleep. later, i'd learn that undiagnosed adhd and very high performing manic depression are to blame for most of my vibrating sense of need to fill every hour of every day with some kind of productivity (this, unironically, is why i love new york city -- the frenetic energy of it matches my mental wavelength so that i can feel "productive" even when i'm just walking down the street or sitting in a bar).

but back then, i -- and by extension my lovely parents -- tried to fill it with stuff -- 2 different art classes, ballet, swimming, piano, debate club, singing, chinese school, and of course, with my still yet unfilled hours -- reading and writing. to say i was raised by the books i read would be an understatement. to say i am nothing more than a massive conglomerate of those characters that resonated most with me in those books would be parenthetical to the fact that i'm also built by all those characters i've ever admired or wanted to be. i am, in the most cliche, literal, non-lampshaded sense "that nerdy book girl" who made it her entire fucking personality to be... that nerdy book girl. and this, amidst the stratospheric rise of "not like other girls" media and rhetoric -- it was not healthy (it still isn't), but it was a large part of who i was. and a lingering part of who i am today.

my overactive, adhd-driven imagination served me well, then. into the stories i delved, and what i couldn't find in my normal every day life, i found in narrative. long before the tiktok-ification of "book boyfriends" came the voices in my head that sounded like all the would-be book boyfriends i'd ever have -- everyone from edward cullen to kakashi to four (that one guy from divergent who only has like 4 fears, which in retrospect is so, so cringe, but alas) to fictionalized versions of one direction members. the list goes on. i used to be able to hold entire conversations, play out entire scenes with these mental constructs with impudent ease. spend hours in my room by myself just imagining.

it was like astral projection -- my body, here, my mind and my soul, somewhere else entirely. and this i believe (to this day) is the core of a lot of my writing and creativity. and also the core of a lot of my philosophies and beliefs. the ability to sink into a dream, a scene, a story.

and then. i fell in love.

and sure, it would be much too cliche to say that misery breeds good art so a happy artist would (at best) produce mediocre art/writing/whatever. because i've also seen fantastic art produced by very, very happy artists. the sad truth is only that it's much rarer than the alternative of the painfully mainstream tortured artist.

but to some degree, i think there's an inkling of truth in that saying. because having a real-life boyfriend, with all the real-life machinations and strings of having said real-life boyfriend has made it, somehow, much harder to access that old imaginary part of me. like a child growing up and losing the ability to "make believe" the way they used to. except, i know it's still there. there are still moments where i touch it, where i dip my toes in and it always feels like coming home.

and it's more than just the normal adult-ish responsibilities of going to work and paying bills, making dinner and shopping for groceries. doing laundry and investing in your roth ira. because before real-life boyfriend, i still did those things and i was still able to seamlessly get to that "elsewhere place". somehow, it is the physical presence of real-life boyfriend that seems to act as a "grounding agent". he is home, so i can't go to that other place. or, i can kind of get there, but i've always still got one foot steeped in reality.

it is not a necessarily good or bad thing, just an observation at most. but it does create this new "space" for the "want" of that elsewhere. for the want to being able to slip into that creative asphodel like i used to -- blink and i'm there. so i find myself often sitting at my desk, wishing, and then wondering what it means that i can't. that it isn't always and immediately accessible to me anymore.

perhaps absolute solitude was the unquestioned prerequisite for so long that i'd never noticed it until the solitude was no longer available to me. or perhaps the book-boyfriends are just shy creatures, afraid of the blaring daylight that real-life boyfriend might shed on their ultimate two-dimensional beings.

or perhaps that was always a "safe space" that i'd created for myself, and now real-life boyfriend has created a safe space for me too, and the venne-diagram of the two space spaces overlap just so, making a less singular space of each of them in turn. i don't know, but it's an interesting thought.

it's always struck me, now thinking back, that i've never been even remotely interested in having a real-life relationship before now. but that i've also never questioned if i wanted the current one that i'm in, if this was "the one" or if it was "good for me". and in that too, i know i am very lucky. few people can say that they struck gold the first time they've ever tried.

i know for a fact i wouldn't be this happy, have this good of a life if real-life boyfriend weren't here. he has made me better in ways that i do not have words to describe. but i'm also terrified of the earthen grounding-ness of him. i've spent my entire childhood and most of my adult life with my head in the clouds, taking the necessary trips back down to earth when i had to but... it feels strange to be "here" more and more. there's a hole inside of me where "that" heaven should be.

but two things can be true -- i am happy here; i still yearn for that elsewhere.

[bluecrocss]

Those Annabeth "fans" lol

I really wanna let this topic go, but if I have ONE MORE non-black pjo fan, come on to my page and explain to me how "they grew up seeing the book characters (they're literally only talking about Leah, btw) one way, and they just can't reconcile it with the show 🥺", I might commit serious bodily harm...

They act like only white kids read PJO. I was little black girl reading it in middle school and annabeth was my favorite character. Do you think I was like, "oh she's blonde and white, how can I ever relate to her??" I didn't really have that choice, cuz as a kid MOST of the books/shows/plays/movies I had growing up, most characters didn't look like me. The hunger games, harry potter (forgive me, I was a kid), nancy drew, every disney princess movie, you name it. I notice how only white people complain about "struggling to connect" with characters that don't look like them, cuz POC have always had to do it. When POC ask for representation, it is because we have historically been ACTIVELY excluded, not because we can't connect to the characters otherwise 🙄

When it was halloween, and I dressed up as my favorite princess (Belle) and my brother dressed as his favorite superhero (superman), we just wore the wig and the outfit. I didn't need to paint my skin white to see myself as Belle. Yet every year there's this new controversy of some white person painting their skin or doing some offensive cosplay when they dress up as a POC character, because they see the race of POC characters as INHERENTLY part of the costume.

Why does your perception of Annabeth and the pjo characters trump mine, because you're white and I'm not? I fully viewed Annabeth as a white girl when I read the books, and when I saw Leah was cast, that didn't change my view of the character because her race was never central to the character. The author has stated the same thing. If you can't view a non-white/non-blonde version of annabeth (I am not speaking about the writing of the show or Leah's performance because this discourse started as soon as she was cast) as annabeth, then the parts of annabeth that actually mattered, the parts that Rick has identified as the most important, the part that I and millions of other non-white, non-blonde girls connected to, never connected with you. Rare representation of Neurodivergence in a female character, being underestimated (which had nothing to do with her being blonde lmao), perseverance, emotional vulnerability, overcoming generational curses and broken family life, abandonment issues, I could go on...

If you managed to grow to the age of maturity and still struggle to connect with people and view people as equal beneath their physical/material presentation, that is a YOU problem... the rest of the world shouldn't have to hold your hand through this.

And once again... NOBODY FORCED YOU TO WATCH THE SHOW. You don't like the casting, DON'T WATCH. Stop, coming to my comments and explaining how you're the exception, and you're not being ignorant, how, in fact it's the author, the casting directors, and the majority of the fanbase, who just don't understand her character the way you do 🥺

Give me a break.

[akumicchi]

𝔗𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔡.

112 prayers

A hopeful message with no destination.

You will never be too heavy for me.

Content: angst, breakdown, hints of depression. Suguru's POV. OC appearance.

I smelled it before I saw it. I felt it before I heard it; the presence, the humming. I had never entertained the idea of time travel. No one could actually predict a forced turn in the highway of time, even if Back to the Future made it look so comical. Despite that, I found myself basking in that presence, in that humming, and let it drive me off to when I was a child: innocent and safe.

“Mom?”, hoarse. Silence. A knot of guilt tightened itself up inside my chest. ‘Don’t go’.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”, there weren't the walls of my room around me, no posters, no bookshelves nor pictures. In fact, there was no room at all. Just an open field I didn't know, somewhere I couldn't remember. I wasn't curled against my mother either. It was just Hogo, and it made me more at ease than expected.

Not being alert in a strange place was a punch to my instincts, but I couldn't bring myself to care aside from a simple:

“Where are we?”

“We’re at school. I carried you here, remember?”, oh yes. She and her stupidly strong arms. “You fell asleep though, so you probably don't”. 

I did remember not wanting to come, earlier that day. The air had felt like lead for the entire … month?, weighing heavy on my lungs with each breath. Every layer of clothing was a tight rope made of rubber. It didn't matter how much I tried to fight the dark clouds, they only grew thicker and tighter. It was exhausting. It'd be way easier to just give into the misery. ‘Ah… everyone would be so disappointed to see me like this, choosing the easy way. But I can't carry this and pretend anymore’. So I hid from sewing fake smiles on my face. I just wanted to drown in the pain without witnesses.

Despite that, I let her in.

“C'mon, I want to show you something.”

“I don't really feel like walking anywhere right now”, it had been four days since Tsukumo Yuki talked to me on that very bench, and left me with more thoughts than I could manage. I needed quiet. “Maybe next time”.

Hogo crouched in front of me. Her voice was soft, the one she used when talking to kids. “Please, it won't be long, I promise. We go and then we come back. You will like it”, her eyes were clouded with worry, she looked pretty like that too, “You don't even have to walk if you don't want to”.

“Hmm? How come? You can teleport now, too?”, I cocked a brow, feeling the slight tug of a smile against my will. ‘The things she makes me do’. Her hands closed and opened for a second. She wanted to hug me, and the realization of this loud and clumsy girl being so mindful around me made my chest ache. 

“Well, I'll show you if you agree to come with me”, she sang quietly with a spray of confidence.

I was so eager to get an answer to these haunting questions. Haibara’s response was as simple as his own mind. Tsukumo Yuki’s, on the other hand… It was complicated. Or maybe it wasn't? Maybe I had made my choice? But what if I was wrong? How could I know? What would she say? I wanted her thoughts, a piece of her mind to tell me…anything.

‘But not now’. The scent from her neck lulled my senses quiet. The tree leaves above our heads were kind enough to shield us from the summer afternoon. Hogo’s hand traced my skin, untangling my worries stroke by stroke. My legs were folded on her lap, and the vague memory of being cradled this way made me feel so innocent. Too warm to think. Too soft. Too comfortable.

She had a book propped up against my thigh. It was open roughly around the middle.

“What are you reading?” 

“112 prayers at midnight”, she hummed, eyes not leaving the pages.

“That's an odd number of prayers”.

“Yeah. It's a story about a non-believer trapped in a time loop trying to save his loved ones after losing them to a mistake… He prays every time for the loop to restart.”

“For a non believer he surrendered fast… At least he has a second chance”.

Silence settled between us. A few seconds later she spoke again.

“Hum, I thought about that too, ‘To pray for time to go back, it's so unfair’. But as twisted as it is, I just can't stop reading. Maybe I'll be surprised”.

“Who’s that god that answers at the first call? That's a real surprise. I'd like to meet him”, that was a slip. My throat tightened and by no means I expected how broken I actually sounded.

Her arms held me closer. When she pressed her lips against my forehead, a sob almost broke through every wall I had built.

“Me too”.

Stop being like this. Don't hold me, don't carry me somewhere calm, don't kiss me so softly. Stop making me feel so small! I don't want the sun, I don't want the breeze, I don't want clouds, or words, or songs, or flowers; I don't want any of it!!

“Shh… it's okay, I've got you”.

[uselessbard1031]

Orphaning My Old Work???

Howdy everyone!

I'll keep this short, but I just wanted to hop on and let you all know that today I orphaned some of my old works on Ao3. I've been wanting to do so for over a year now and finally bit the bullet. Yes, this includes my most popular fic "Legend of Korra X Reader Oneshots" (for anyone whose request I didn't get to, I apologize. I bit off way way more than I could chew with that and have over thirty requests and a dozen half finished fics).

Why?

Well, when I started writing fanfiction for Ao3 I was 17/18 years old. I started publishing said fanfiction at 18/19/20 (19? I think?) and I am now in my mid-twenties so...I've changed. Lol. I've grown up.

When I first started writing I was immature and unexperienced with the world. I wrote for characters I never had attraction to myself (Ex. Adult! Toph, Suyin, Korra, Asami) because people asked me to, I saw those characters got hits, and I wanted to be liked online. It was hard because I didn't see them as romantic interests and I feel the writing suffered for that. Even 'I Bought A War Criminal' (another popular fic I wrote) I fell out of love with Kuvira while writing and it had a rushed ending due to that fact.

The X readers in particular had some smut chapters that explored kinks I don't have and truthfully had never even heard of until reading some other fanfictions. I won't get too personal, but, like many of us on here, I was exposed to way too much shit way too soon in my life so I found new edgy smut topics to keep me engaged. I've since dealt with some of that trauma and also experienced more IRL trauma around relationships and sexuality that make me read some stuff I wrote -- and stuff I READ while underage -- (ex. knife play, non-con, etc) and go woah hey who let me have Wattpad at 12 and what kind of effect did that shit have because--??? (I would like to say that being into certain kinks is not bad and I'm not trying to kink shame but to me I was desensitized due to exposure too young to NSFW material and due to some IRL trauma -- reading and writing that was my way to cope without actually working through any issues. An unhealthy way to cope. I didn't know healthy relationships because everyone in my life up to that point had abused me or hurt me in some way or another either intentionally or unintentionally so I figured Ao3 / Wattpad / Fanfic.net smut wasn't 'that bad'. Now, I deal with my trauma in healthier ways and realize it's just not what I'm into. A lot of it I wasn't even into when I wrote it. But I read it, so I wrote it. Even recently with Outlander I wrote wildshape smut not because I was into it but because all the other Jaheira fics had it and I figured hey it will get views. Because yes, smut gets views).

I'm just not proud of the writing quality. The first chapter of that X Reader Oneshots collection switches tenses like a million times. Who let me do that? Lol. I have a published book IRL that I'm taking down too because omg don't let 17 year olds self-publish XD

The point is, I never really wrote much of that stuff for me. I wrote it to get views. To get comments. To explore things I thought I was suppose to explore. Because no one in my real life was telling me I was good or capable. I wanted reassurance that I was writing the 'edgiest' stuff or the 'fluffiest' or the 'right characters' and the 'right stories'.

Going forward, I want to write for me. It's why I've moved fandoms because yes, I love Legend of Korra and Lin Beifong, but I'm not obsessed with it like I was. I found community in LOK and in AO3 and online in general but, after getting offline -- deleting social media -- reading things other than fanfiction -- basically, as I became less chronically online for the first time since Middle School, I realized that there's so much more out there that I enjoy. And much healthier ways to enjoy it.

I love all of the support you guys have given me and I stand by the amazing love and community I've gotten from all of my commenters and kudos-ers. But those fics just don't represent me anymore. Few of them ever represented me at all. Many were just what I thought would 'sell'.

I want to keep writing, so I will. But for the stories and characters I want to write about in ways that I actually enjoy. I want cute romances and metaphores for life. Writing smut feels like a chore most of the time so I'll probably just fade to black most of the time with a chapter or two exception. I still love fanficton -- it's an artform all its own. But yeah. Anyways, I hope my little ramble here makes sense and I hope you all get what I'm trying to say.

And if you are like past me -- having interacted with the internet and NSFW and smut since a young age and now feeling like every boundary isn't enough in fiction (*clears throat* I see you BookTok wth r those abusive ass relationships you're reading?) just know that maybe that kind of content isn't good for you and know that vanilla isn't lame. Know that you can write the stories and characters you want and that you don't have to write characters you don't want to write or situations that scare you. And you don't have to pretend not to be scared just for the sake of not kink-shaming.

Yeah. Anyway, if ya'll have any questions fell free to reach out to me! I hope you continue to like my work and if you don't, that's fine too. I hope you don't feel like I'm abandoning you. I think I'm just growing up and getting better mentally. <3

~UselessBard1031

[buzzkillers]

Fables and Parables 2/5

Pairing: Namor x Black!Reader

Chapter Summary: you begin to feel the affects of the curse.

Warning: NON-CON, religious themes, non-consensual voyeurism, magical sex pollen, dream-walking, mentions of abortion, attempted forced pregnancy.

PART ONE

It rained the next day. 

It's so bad that you're forced to braid your hair. The gel wasn't working and the frays of your edges curled underneath the humidity.

Lucky you, but that's not where your bad day ended, of course not. 

The storm had forced you all inside, the rain battering against the very thin walls of the hostel. All plans for exploration were delayed. Quickly, your discomfort turned into irritation and then your period started. Of course it did. Thankfully, there was no blood yet but it was the beginning of it. You could feel it in the twist of your gut, the odd ache in your pelvis. It's so subtle that it could’ve passed a stomach ache

But you've never felt your stomach twist like this before. Like there was a needle in your guts that pulled and twisted.

 So yeah, you were on your period and the weather was shit and you were starving. But you didn’t mind, you really didn't. Until then it rained the next day and the day after that and you never bled. 

“It’s global warming,” your roommate whispered, her face still shoved into her book. 'Art and Society of Mayan culture ' it read, the bind of it worn and dirty. 

You relaxed in your own bed. Your leg splayed off the edge.“-just think about it,”

“I'm thinking about it,” You lied. Because you’ve actually been reading the same  ‘Wikipedia’ page for the last five minutes and you were afraid that if you moved a muscle, something just might burst. 

The other didn’t know this though. How could she? So she rolled her eyes, lips pinched. “Im serious,” 

“I mean it's May—May," she turned a page, "We're supposed to be touring temples but instead we're-" she looked over at you and then winced. "-I actually don't know what you're doing," 

"Waiting for this bootleg ibuprofen to kick in," you muttered, your phone now fallen asleep. You took a strangled breath. 

"I don't think it's working," 

“Are you sure you don't want tea?” she asked cause she was nice and didn’t know that every word she spoke made you want to bite bricks. You shoved your head into the pillow and tried to suffocate yourself. “Nah, rather vomit,” Last night, you only had one cup and instantly spat it out. You’d rather stick to sink water. 

“I think I'm just gonna die here,” you groaned, ‘cause it would just be your luck really. Then you curled into a ball, your arms wrapped around your knees. The position only made it worse.  Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes. 

The woman sucked her teeth, “Right, die in a run down hostel, in the middle of nowhere, that's not inconsiderate,”

“Kindly fuck off,”

“To get tea? Yeah I'm suddenly in the mood,” you shot the woman a glare, and suddenly it's her that's ignoring you. The look on her face smug as she jumped into some trousers and walked out the door. 

You took the moment to look out the window. It faced the front streets, above all the pop shops and grocery bags. Below you, people ran to get away from the onslaught. No one wanted to drive today, clearly. People bustled in the streets, business men went home and school children ran with their bags over their heads. Anything to get out of the rain. 

Except one, a lone figure at the edge of the sidewalk, who stood straight, unaffected. He did not wear an umbrella or a raincoat for that matter. Instead, his shelter was the leaves of the sidewalk trees. It flicked and fettered over him, it also did a shit poor job of actually keeping him dry. He looked at your Hostel. Unmoving. In your delusion, he was also blue, he looked very very blue.

Your face pinched and then the needle in your stomach twisted and your intestines curled and you forgot all about it. At least some people didn’t mind the rain. 

—-

It never stopped raining. Not truly. It might've drizzled, or splashed or allowed a pause within the bulging of clouds and the clap of thunder but it never actually stopped. Not for more than a few minutes anyway. 

Time only existed within the ratatat typing of rain. Between the moment where it splashed and melded into the streets. 

You didn't know what was more irritating, the cramps or that sound. After a few moments, your roommate picked the sound and that was all you needed to hear before you popped another ibuprofen and migrated to the play rooms of the hostel. 

Play room was stretching it though. It was simply a small living room with an ancient boxed tv and folding chairs. It's crowded when the two of you get down there. An odd mix of your classmates and other residents and they’re all watching the news on the weather. 

‘Unexpected’ they said, ‘unlikely to stop anytime soon,'  which in other words meant your earlier sentiment was right. 

You were never leaving this hostel and you were all feeling it. You've never felt so bored, so hungry. And the daily work assignments and sandwiches in the fridge weren't cutting it. You guys were going to have to leave the hostel for food eventually. Maybe that's why you were feeling the way? 

 It was a good hypothesis as the pangs in your belly tightened. You've never felt a hunger like this before. Strong and potent. 

So, a few hours later you're outside now. A few blocks away from the hostel and filled with enough ibuprofen that it might not be the storms that’ll kill you. There's only one grocery store on your street. It's an artificial beacon of fluorescent lights, the door rung when you opened it.  

With wobbly knees, you walked inside and the weather followed. A man with a mop looked up and glared at you. You ducked into one of the aisles.  

You needed something sweet, something heavy. Bread? No. Ice cream? You ran through each aisle. And then you walked and then your just sort of sludged your way around. Each movement made the world curl into itself, your floor tilted beneath your feet. 

By the time you actually got to the front again nothing looked appealing. Tortilla bread suddenly looked too heavy and chorizo looked too much. You looked at your basket, lips downturned. 

Maybe you should just get a drink instead. But even that made you want to curl into yourself. Soda was too much. A lemonade too sweet. What about water? At that your stomach twisted and turned, cold than hot. The cashier looked at you plainly. 

“¿Eso es todo, señora?" you blinked.

He was an older man, with sunken eyes and gray hair that was long but tied into a tight ponytail. He gave off a scent of artificial pine tree, his fingers battered with callouses. He had a gold tooth and his shirt, although clean, was translucent due to the rain that battered through the window every time a customer came in. 

You licked your lips, warmth in your belly overflowed. You wondered if he’d let you get on your knees. If all it would take was a look and sweet words before you led yourself behind the counter-

“señora?” the man's voice boomed you out of your thoughts, you flinched back. “Sorry, I-” you shook your head, “¿Tienes uh agua?” 

His eye twitched. “pasillo 10,”

Your mouth went dry. You looked to the back aisle, at the long tiled floors that seemed to drag on forever. On a back shelf the water sat pretty.  You licked your lips again. Something in you bloomed. It was exactly what you needed. Water.

With a fevered glance back, you battered your fingers against the counter. One gallon would be just as much as the food. It looked more appetizing too, like it would belly over the thirst that ran in your tummy. 

Like a great way to wash the taste of the man off your tongue.  

You shook your head, “Actually-” 

“-¿Te importaría conseguirlo para mí?” the man just looked at you, their mouth downturned. He looked ready to stay no. 

The aisle wasn’t that far away. And anyone with working legs would be able to make it to the back. But something in your face made the man's face relaxed, the corner of his lips pinched. “fine,” then with a glance, “Pero no vomites en mi suelo,” 

Unlikely. In fact vomiting was a very real possibility. You felt it in your throat, in the overtone and queasiness that slobbed in your tummy. 

You looked at him as he left. Watched the skin on his back, the sweat that twinkled down his spine. Your stomach flipped and turned. Suddenly, your hands were clammy and your lips dry. What kind of hunger was this?  

What kind, made you want this? Claws in your back, and kisses on your chest. You wanted it bad, like a bird wanted murder and a plant water, it was a need, a cancer that furloughed in your deepest cavities and bloomed. Ricocheting like a bullet before you fell to your knees and vomited it all out. 

—

You don't go out much after that. 

[cinnamonest]

I'm now into the 5th season of hxh. As soon as I finish this series I will actually make a proper post but in the meantime I want to shout into the void how I feel about some of these bastards. Yes I was too lazy to turn off subtitles before taking hulu screenshots. I've been cutting into my sleep hours to watch this since the past week since I keep having to work overtime so this might be incoherent and delirious idk. I'm not entirely sure I'm awake right now. This might be a dream. Anyway

Hisoka was the only character I was familiar with by name prior to watching and like. I always assumed the pervert schtick was like a one-time line/single scene that people just took and ran with it. I was incorrect

I know full well this man would most likely kill me but like. I think I'd be okay with it. I think it would be a good way to go and I would probably accept it. I'd thank him even. I'd ask him to step on me while he does it. Or maybe I'm right at the threshold where I'm so pathetic I'm genuinely not worth killing which I think I'd also be okay with as long as I can still get knocked to the ground and have him step on my neck. Please sir

Also a large portion of me watching this, up until this past week, has been while I'm at home bc I've been home a lot recently and I often have a parallel play thing going on with my mother where in the evenings I'll watch something or play games while she browses facebook or reads her Bible/Christian books and she'll like pay half-attention and make comments every few minutes on anything I watch. In true parent fashion she's managed to be there for like every scene of random naked shots or weird moaning and says nothing, but once just looked up, made a face of deep discomfort and went back to highlighting her Bible. I think about this a lot. I'm sorry mom

I'm very weak to comic relief men actually and I have a triple weakness to token perv characters and furthermore my ovaries were created as such that men who are incredibly intelligent while also being astoundingly dumb are my kryptonite so my boy, be he as he may, dare I admit, does things to me. I think if you pulled the typical tease line where you say something about having a problem and needing a doctor to inspect you or just flash him he might die on the spot and that is very endearing to me. One could torment this man with the slightest of skin or sensuality it would be very easy. I appreciate you leorio

I want to protect Killua but like does he need it really. Like the "oh poor baby I want to hold him and squeeze him and never let anything harm him" urge is there because of my blatant maternal complexes but at the same time I know full well he does not need protecting and would realistically be the one protecting anyone else but like the urge is still there. I don't care. I WILL find something to protect him from and I WILL do it

Also very tsun. I can sense it. I know I'm dumb and weak and I would get snarky comments about it but that's okay. I would let the middle school aged boy bully me. I'd be okay with that

I think Illumi looks kind of like an insect. However he also terrifies me a little bit but I don't think that would particularly bother him. I think I could tell him both that he terrifies me and that he looks like a bug and he would have an entirely neutral response. Would probably just ask what kind of bug but may be disappointed if I name a non-cool bug. I'd probably say a grasshopper. I don't know how he would feel about that

I think what would be infuriating to me most is it is difficult to get much of a reaction out of this dude. Like you can be a total nightmare to have as a captive and the most you'll get is a :/ response. In attitude at least, like he'd probably still snap my wrist if deemed appropriate but would do it with just a mildly exasperated face/voice. I would try so hard to get a strong reaction and would never get it and that infuriates me. What right do you have to infuriate me like this bug man. Stop staring at me with them big ol eyes

I think if this man were to be living a normal life and not running with criminals he would wear socks with sandals on a daily basis. Like those thick white halfway up the calves socks and tan buckled sandals worn exclusively by boomer middle aged dads. And it's not the only trait he would share with middle aged men either I think he would care deeply about the quality of his lawn and mispronounce foreign things in a way that is borderline creative for how wrong it is. I think he just is a middle aged boomer dad trapped in a younger man's body. Release this man into a Home Depot and he will immediately adapt to his natural habitat

I am terrified of this man because due to who I am as a person I immediately evaluate all male specimens on what I think sex with them would be like, and cannot imagine a scenario involving this man where I come out of it without actual internal damage. Like you know how people joke about "rearranging your guts/insides" well this would be that but like actually genuinely. I think intercourse with this tank of a man would automatically necessitate medical attention. However do not mistake my horror for hesitancy because organ rupture is a price I will willingly pay for the experience of a realistic simulation of what I imagine it feels like to be a sick gazelle that falls behind the rest of the herd only to start hearing suspenseful nature documentary music

I cannot look at this man without my blood pressure immediately rising. I have never been simultaneously so strongly attracted to yet have such a strong desire to strangle someone. I think the worst part of this is that he would somewhat let me attempt to strangle him but would find it endearing and would start going on an analysis of my personhood and I will be real with you all that would peak my fury and I would become violent. And blah blah "understanding myself" hey man can you maybe not mass murder and go on your journey of self discovery by doing drugs or taking a road trip or something like a normal person in their quarter life crisis. Is that so hard.

As my fingers type these words I can feel my heart rate increasing and I am filled with immense fury and arousal at the same time. Why are you attractive? What is wrong with me? I hate it and I hate myself for it. I have to unironically take a break from typing to take a deep breath. I have to move on because I'm getting heart palpitations

Shalnark seems underappreciated. I love him so much but he also terrifies me in a way none of the others do. Like sure being blatantly cruel or loud or huge like some of the others is one thing but he's too cheery. It scares me on a visceral level. Sir why are you smiling like that. I do not trust it. Or rather realistically I know I WOULD trust it if I met this man as a stranger because I'm very gullible and that would not end well for me. This boy would probably be like one of the absolute worst people to end up stuck with once you get into it but that is very well hidden from the surface and I do not like that. I know I'm naive as all hell and I would fall for the same tricks over and over and I just know that would be used against me

On the bright side though this does mean he would actually fit the classic, original yandere trope since originally yanderes are supposed to be super sweet and cheery externally, so there's that

My skrungly. My tiny son. Y'all do not understand my predicament because I have a NEED to squish his face in my hands, I have an unbearable urge to pat his head and ruffle his hair, it is a literal physical intrinsic need like food and water and I need this but like at what cost. Is the price one I am willing to pay. The answer is probably yes actually. What are a few broken fingers for a moment of pure bliss. Likewise even if by a mere 2 centimeters I am taller than this man and that brings me great satisfaction. I hold great power in my hands. I would be sure to bring this matter up on a daily basis at great risk to my well-being

Baby boy you are the warmth of my soul and the love of my life and the brightest star in my night sky which is really saying something because you have about as much positive energy as a funeral. Regardless. Baby boy. Baby

I want Kurapika to know I love him. If Kurapika has 100000000 fans I'm one of them. I'm Kurapika has 10 fans I'm one of them. If Kurapika has 0 fans I am dead. If I were a shounen anime protagonist that just got the shit beaten out of me and I'm crumpled on the ground on the verge of unconsciousness and/or death I would have flashbacks and imagery of Kurapika go through my head and then I'd get a sudden burst of willpower and energy to miraculously get back up and kill the villain in a single blow. If I'm having a bad day and a singular thought of Kurapika passes through my mind it becomes a good day. Knowing Kurapika is a spiritual experience for me. I have a small orgasm every time my eyes are graced with Kurapika's visage. I think about Kurapika at minimum 127 times daily and if I fail to do this I will die instantly. I would protect Kurapika with my life. And by God I would gladly volunteer myself for clan rebuilding. Sir if you ever want to spread your bloodline I am right here. I will leap at the chance to spend the rest of my life as your personal incubator. I feel like he'd be paranoid and overprotective and lock me in the same house forever but you know what? I'm fine with that. Walking through our house at night will be like a semi-obscure 2000s Japanese horror rpg because every step you take there's a set of big red eyes staring at you but instead of weird Japanese demons its just pouty tiny kurtas. I am in physical pain because the most screen time he's had in ages is a phone call. Where is my boy. What have they done with my boy. If he does not return soon I will become violent

[your--isgayrights]

Seeing your answered ask about metas makes me want to share this list someone made about ORV’s literary references: https://twitter.com/Jomeimei421/status/1806147303004336632

I think this same person also said something about ORV being a blend of low-brow fiction and high-brow literature and I agree. I would like to see a legitimate academic paper referencing or breaking down ORV, and now that I think about it, maybe this has already happened and I just don’t know how to find something like that.

This list is honestly such a great resource, thanks for sharing :)))) <3333

I would add the samguk yusa and samguk sagi to this list tho, even though the references might count as 'myths' or an oral tradition that's the nature of the older historical texts. I think I have a couple breakdowns of the references to the Samguk yusa, a post about ljh's name and the historical ancestors referenced, and some stuff about JttW.

In the concept of high brow and low brow, I agree that ORV is very good at being like very respectful of anything that is a 'story' and I think good at portraying the sort of 'character' that some genres or reading types represent. I think one of my posts is definitely about how the KDJ relationship with his mom is very representative of the sort of evolution of webnovel culture out of classical literature and trauma literature scenes in the sort of 'professional,' established Korean publishing. Also as a Naruto guy I really respect the JttW arc for being like 'hey all middle grade action stories and shounen a little bit comes from JttW tbh.' I also think the premise of ORV is great as sort of the natural conclusion to like American gods or Rick Riordan type justifications for all religions being true bc people believe them: ok, then here's also one man's favorite anime boy being real because he believes in him and he's actually going to punch God now. Oh also a literary reference I guess is that metatron and etc are from the Talmud rabbinic scriptures. Though I think myths about him are mostly from kabbala / oral tradition (which stems from Judaism but even now there are Jewish people who think it's very wrong to call them Jewish beliefs. Part of that is probably that in more modern history kabbala has partially been developed and sort of appropriated by non-jewish people in a way that is kind of similar to orientalizing / mysticizing the more 'normal' Judaic beliefs practiced by wider Jewish communities ((think tiktokkers who are like I Am a Witch doinG Qabala but actually she's basically just writing creepypasta in her brain about things other people actually believe in that she knows nothing about)). At the same time, there is kabbala that naturally developed from people Jewish faith in the same way orphism or other 'occult' beliefs developed out of governmentally/societally enforced/accepted Greek and Roman religions throughout history. Fun fact: Sefer ha-bahir is apparently an influential text in the development of og kabbala and apparently literally describes the idea of transmigration so that is fun.)

Ok besides the historical stuff the media on the list I'm actually exposed to is just Han Kang and then Naruto (I watched some of one piece in middle school but retained very little of it tbh I just know who some of the guys are. Actually I just had a dream where I complimented a guy's one piece shirt and then he asked me if I liked the anime and I had to be like oh... No).

I did some research on YSA's reading 'taste' though and I think it's very fitting because they're realistic books with "literary value" that are like very relevant to society but obscure enough that you wouldn't make up reading them just to impress someone, unlike Han Myungoh claiming 'art of war' is his fave book (that's another lit reference in there somewhere I think? I just remember finding it fitting... It's the type of fit for business men who want to seem macho and smart but actually don't enjoy reading at all... I would say if they said three kingdoms was their favorite I would at least believe they read it or saw an adaptation but like art of war just isn't really a Story it's more like self help? Like there are stories but they're showing 'lessons' about war lol.)