#this might be an old ask…… i did not check my inbox for a long time…..
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crustyshrimp · 2 years ago
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Just wanted to convey I really love your art style!! Hope everything you want comesyour way. Have a great day, cause your art always makes mine <3
OH MY, Thank u so much 😭 Im so glad u enjoy my art and it makes your day…. it is such a wonderful thing to be able to know that people do like my art :] I hope u have a wonderful day as well!
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carlislefiles · 14 days ago
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meet not-so-cute | fushiguro toji, fushiguro megumi, geto suguru, gojo satoru, ino takuma, kong shiu, nanami kento, sukuna ryomen, yuuji itadori ╰►sorcery aside, how might you two meet? what organic ways do you cross paths? and how long will he allow this little meet-cute to go on before he asks you out? 6.7k words
a/n: hello!!! this was actually a request I got in my inbox and I had a lot of fun writing it, so thank you anon :] super fun idea, I thought. I included more characters than I usually do because a lot of the headcanons are shorter than usual. I kind of lost the plot with some of these. meet cute is kind of an umbrella term that I loosely followed for these headcanons. one day, I should go more in depth into my writing process with these, but basically, I usually try and make them as individualistic as possible, so each character feels like it's own oneshot. I did still try to do that with this, but I tried not to focus too much on length. I wanted these to be short and sweet. hope you like them <3 warnings: mentions of murder/death, cussing, kissing, use of my singularly detested term "y/n."
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megumi thrived in the university library. three evenings a week, like clockwork, he clocked in at 4:00 and out at 9:00. no noise, no drunk roommates, no sweaty basement parties—just the steady hum of fluorescent lights and the smell of old paper. it was quiet. predictable. he liked that. he didn’t like much else about university. the loudmouths, the frat boys, the posturing. but the library? the dewey decimal system? that was his sanctuary.
he’d seen all kinds pass through. coughing stem majors who hadn’t slept in three days, loud econ guys using the back tables to scam freshman girls into dates, study groups that dissolved into tinder swiping. occasionally someone genuinely cool wandered in, someone who treated the books with care, read for pleasure, maybe even respected the quiet rule. but those people were rare.
which is why you stood out. he was mid-shelving—a tattered copy of the brothers karamazov in hand, scowling because who the hell willingly read dostoevsky in college—and then there was your voice. “is that the brothers karamazov?” he blinked and turned. you stood a few feet away, clutching your backpack strap like you’d been walking the aisles for a while.
“uh,” he glanced at the cover. “yeah. it is.”
you lit up. lit up. “I've been looking for that forever! I thought it was checked out or something.” and then you were smiling at him—really smiling—and he was malfunctioning.
“uh—yeah, it was. but it’s back now. I mean—obviously.” he handed it to you before his brain could sabotage him any further. you took it like it was a gift from the gods.
“thank you,” you said, so sincerely it made his heart squeeze. “seriously.”
he opened his mouth to say something, anything clever or smooth, but what came out was: “you’re welcome.” flat. useless. he was great at this. you wandered off before he could embarrass himself more, and he stood there for a moment longer than necessary, trying not to look like he’d just seen a mythological creature. it should have ended there, but it didn’t.
he finished shelving the rest of his cart and was heading back up front when he saw you again, tucked into a table in the back corner. a warm cup of tea beside you. laptop open but ignored. three books sprawled out: two obviously your own, littered with tabs and notes and your handwriting in the margins. but the one in your lap? that was the brothers karamazov. you were flipping through it like it was the most engrossing thing on earth. your glasses were slipping down your nose. you pushed them up absently. you looked soft. focused. smart.
megumi refilled his cart and wandered toward your table under the flimsy excuse of returning some books nearby. how had he never seen you before? he lived here. he breathed this place. and yet—you were new. fresh. gorgeous. he slowed his walk, pretending to skim the titles on his cart as he passed you. he saw the pen twitching in your hand as you hesitated over the library book. “you can—you can write in it, you know?” he said quietly, hoping he didn’t sound like a total creep.
you looked up, startled. then you smiled. “isn’t that considered vandalism?”
he gave the smallest smile back. "I won’t tell.”
you laughed, and megumi felt something uncoil in his chest. like maybe he wasn’t going to die alone after all. “I'm y/n,” you said, casually. “you work here?”
“yeah,” he replied, straightening a little. “megumi.”
“nice to meet you, megumi,” you said, and he nearly floated off the floor. you chatted. about the book. your major (literature, he was right). the annoying freshmen who always talked too loud. it was easy. natural. he didn’t feel like an awkward lump of bones for once.
then your phone buzzed. you glanced at it and winced. “shoot, I've got a meeting. I gotta go.” he nodded, trying not to look visibly crushed. “I'll be back tomorrow, though,” you said, smiling again. "I like it here.” you left with the book hugged to your chest, and megumi spent the next hour thinking about ways to casually die and be reborn as someone cool.
the next day, he wasn’t supposed to work. but his coworker, yuuta, owed him a favor, and megumi was suddenly very motivated to collect. you walked in right on time. cardigan today. worn jeans. hair up, soft tendrils falling around your face. you looked like you belonged in the pages of the very novels you read. effortlessly poetic.
megumi had gone full nerd. he’d pulled a few other books from the stacks—ones he thought you’d like. similar authors, maybe some translations. he told himself it was just good customer service. he caught your eye and walked over, awkwardly offering the books like a cat dropping a dead bird at someone’s feet.
you beamed. “you brought me more?”
he shrugged, face heating. “thought you might like them.”
you motioned to the seat across from you. “well then. you should stay and tell me which one to read first.” he sat. you talked. again. books and music and weird professors and the best study spots on campus. it was casual and fun and somehow flirty in a way that didn’t make him want to crawl into a hole. you were honest. kind. ridiculously smart. he was trying not to fall in love on the spot.
eventually, you glanced up from your tea. “so, megumi,” you said slowly. “you ever hang out outside the library?”
he blinked. “sometimes?”
you laughed. “would you want to? like—with me?”his brain short-circuited. but his mouth worked faster. “yeah. yeah, I'd like that.” you smiled, and he liked that.
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toji knew this hit was going to be a bitch. rich politician. high-end steakhouse. twice as many bodyguards as brains. shiu had warned him—these weren’t the type of guys you take out clean. no, they came with backup, surveillance, and bulletproof everything. but toji wasn’t losing to a security system. he was losing to a guy built like a refrigerator. they’d gone two rounds already. the alley behind the restaurant was littered with blood, broken glass, and toji’s pride. this last bodyguard was a tank—fast, brutal, and apparently immune to concussions. toji wasn’t about to admit defeat, but the bruises forming on his ribs were saying otherwise.
he was about to cut his losses, pull a classic “abort and call shiu like a little bitch” move, when—crack. the sound was sharp and final. something heavy slammed into the back of the guard’s skull. he dropped. toji hit the ground too—knees giving out, breath ragged, knife still clenched in his fist.
you were standing over him. tall. calm. a black bodysuit clinging to you like shadow. hair pulled back. tire jack still raised in your hands like you’d done this before. like this wasn’t even your first alleyway knockout of the evening. toji blinked up at you, bloody and blinking, heart pounding from the fight—or maybe not just the fight. “…huh.”
you arched a brow. “that all you’ve got to say?”
"I usually have a better opener, but I'm concussed,” he grunted, propping himself up on one elbow.
your eyes dropped to the blood on his shirt. “looks like more than a concussion.”
he smirked. “still breathing, aren’t i?”
you didn’t laugh, but something about your mouth twitched. like you were tempted to. like you’d enjoy it if he kept talking. “you alright?” you asked, voice too casual for the situation.
“peachy.”
“good.” you turned away. “because I'm not carrying you.”
he let out a short laugh—painful, but real. “didn’t realize I was your type.”
“you’re not.” that shut him up.
but not in a bad way. no, it lit something up behind his ribs. he liked women who could kill him—liked them more when they didn’t fawn or fuss. you were the opposite of delicate. you didn’t even offer him a hand. toji leaned against the alley wall, watching you disappear through the side entrance like smoke. you didn’t look back.
by the time he made it to the other side, limping and pissed, the hit was done. clean. efficient. bullet to the skull in the bathroom. silenced. silent. he was halfway to sulking in the shadows when you emerged again—cool and composed, slipping a pistol into your waistband like you’d just clocked out of a shift at the office.
the client was already waiting, briefcase in hand. “name?” you didn’t hesitate. you tell him. he hands over the money. toji clenched his jaw. six figures. gone. and then—you brushed past him. no smug grin, no lingering glance. just a whisper of perfume and your fingers ghosting briefly over his chest.
he didn’t even register it at first. just stared after you as you vanished into the night like you belonged to it. three minutes later, he was slouched in the passenger seat of shiu’s car, grumbling and cursing and trying to find a position that didn’t make his ribs scream. “you look like shit,” shiu said, not looking up from the road.
“feel worse.” toji shifted—and felt something odd in his inner pocket. he fished it out. thick envelope. heavy. inside: the cash. most of it. he stared. then pulled out the folded slip of paper tucked beside the bills.
shiu whistled. “guess someone felt sorry for you.”
“you know her?” he asked, casually. too casually.
shiu shrugged. “seen her around. heard good things. tell me if she’s looking for work—I'd hire her in a heartbeat.” toji didn’t answer.
later that night, after the stitches and the cursing and the bottle of whiskey, he found out where you lived. two days later, half the cash was back in your mailbox—stuffed in an unmarked envelope. along with a slip of paper of his own. toji. xxx-xxx-xxxx.
the next morning, you found it. you rolled your eyes. smirked. called the number. “hope you’re not just looking for a thank-you,” you said.
on the other end of the line, toji’s voice was rough and amused. “nah. I'm asking if you’re free friday. wear something that won’t get blood on it.” cute. in a criminal sort of way.
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gojo satoru was beloved. that was just a fact. teachers liked him because he was smarter than he let on. students adored him because he was charming, funny, and hot enough to make skipping class feel worthy of the punishment. waitresses at his regular spots knew his order, his quirks, his usual table. baristas at the corner café? knew him by name and drink.
which was why, when the to-go cup handed to him tasted like battery acid and death, he blinked. “what the hell—” he muttered, peeking into the cup. black coffee. no sugar. no cream. just three shots of death with ice.
he turned back to the counter just as you stepped up. hoodie sleeves too long, voice soft as you said: “sorry, I think there was a mix-up. this…isn’t mine.”
he took you in with one glance. pretty. like really pretty. the kind of pretty that made his brain go a little sideways. “actually,” he said, stepping up beside you, flashing a grin like it belonged on a billboard, "I think I've got your drink.”
you turned your head, eyes wide. blinked up at him. that was when it hit him. you weren’t giggling. or playing with your hair. or leaning into the flirtation. you looked…startled. a little confused. blushing, yeah—but more out of discomfort than delight.
“I'm so sorry,” you said, placing the actual sugary masterpiece he’d ordered back on the counter and pushing the black coffee his way. "I didn’t even look. that’s on me.” it wasn’t. he knew it wasn’t. but you were still taking the blame like it was second nature. his gaze flicked to a lone backpack at a corner table. your table.
“well,” he said, picking up both drinks, “seems like fate wants us to chat.” you looked horrified. and then he was walking, sliding into the seat across from your things before you could protest. you hesitated. stared. but eventually followed. sat slowly, unsure. gojo leaned his chin into his hand, sipping his coffee—your coffee—and pretending not to wince. “this is evil,” he said conversationally. “are you okay? do you hate yourself?” you didn’t laugh. just looked at him, expression flat.
conversation came easy for him. he asked about your major. your music taste. your hair routine. the specific reason you were drinking a war crime in a cup. your skincare. your favorite color. how you felt about pancakes. you answered with as few syllables as possible. you weren’t shy—you just didn’t care. you weren’t flattered. you weren’t amused. you weren’t impressed. 
it drove him insane. because gojo was used to being liked. he was used to being the sun, and people orbiting him with giddy smiles and heart eyes. but you? you had no orbit. you had gravity. heavy and still and unmoved. you didn’t need to be charmed. you weren’t looking for anything. least of all him. he loved that.
after the twentieth question in under five minutes, you set your pen down. “what’s your goal here?” you asked bluntly. “are you just really bored or something? because I don’t have time for this.”
gojo blinked. grinned wider. “let me take you out.”
you stared. “like…on a date?”
“mm-hmm.”
“why?”
“because you’re beautiful, clearly immune to my overwhelming appeal, and I like a challenge.” he lifts your cup. “I'll take you somewhere they serve things better than this war crime in a cup. there's this place uptown—prix fixe, white tablecloths, the whole shebang.” he gives you the name of the restaurant he has in mind. 
you blink again. “dinner at that place costs more than my laptop.”
he shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I'll cover it.”
you raised your eyebrows. “there’s zero chemistry here.”
“you think so?” he asked, cocking his head. “because I feel a spark.”
“there’s no spark.”
“there will be,” he said confidently. “eventually. you’ll see.”
“no,” you say, quick. not sharp, but not hesitant either. “no, thank you.”
there’s a beat. a breath. he deflates—not dramatically, just slightly. like he expected it. like this was how it was always going to go. “fair enough,” he says. he leans back in his chair, looks up at the café lights with something too soft for someone wearing sunglasses indoors. then he looks at you again. “I'll be here tomorrow. same time. I'll get your drink. still think it’s gross, though.”you huff—almost a laugh, almost—and stand. you don’t say yes. you don’t say no. and gojo watches you walk out like he’s watching a star slip below the horizon. because maybe you didn’t want his fancy dinner. but you still might want him. and he’s got time.
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it starts with a dare. a dumb one. your friends are three shots in and bloodthirsty for chaos. loser has to kiss a stranger. that’s the rule. you lose. you pick someone fast—because thinking about it too long will make you chicken out—and the first person you lock eyes with is a boy in a grey hoodie, laughing with friends near the kitchen. he's cute. sweet-faced. his smile looks like sunshine distilled. takuma, your friends tell you his name is. 
you walk over. "hey," you say, tapping his arm gently. "weird question. can I kiss you?"
he blinks. "huh?"
"I lost a bet," you explain, already wincing. "and the consequence is kissing a stranger. you’re very cute. but I totally get it if you don’t want to—"
"no, no—it’s okay!" he blurts, eyes wide and pink creeping up his neck. "I mean—uh. sure. if you're okay with it."
you grin. “okay. I'll be quick.” except you’re not. because as soon as your hands fist in the front of his hoodie and you pull him down, it spirals fast. the kiss is hot. messy. decidedly not pg. someone somewhere yells for you to “get a room!” and then laughs fade into static as your mouth moves against his.
he tastes like mint and strawberry soda. his lips part and yours follow. he grips your waist like he might float off otherwise. it lasts a lot longer than fifteen seconds. when you pull back, you’re breathless. his eyes are glassy. you smile—bashful now. “thanks,” you say quietly. and then you’re gone, swept back into the crowd like a fever dream.
takuma doesn’t even catch your name. but he thinks about you constantly. your perfume haunts him. warm, floral, clings to the fabric of his hoodie like ghostly fingers. he wears the same sweatshirt three days in a row. maki notices. “seriously?” she asks on day four, watching takuma sniff his sleeve like a lovesick freak. “you kissed one stranger. let it go.”
“I'm trying,” takuma mutters, curled on the couch. “it’s not working.”
he replays it in his head at least twice an hour. the way your lip caught between his. the breathy little sound you made. the way you smiled—soft and kind, like you were shy even after that feral, earth-shattering kiss. he’s down bad. and he knows it.
the next weekend, there’s another party. takuma throws it, mostly because he’s hoping, maybe…and there you are. in a different outfit, with different friends, but unmistakably you. you see him before he sees you, and when your eyes meet, you freeze. like a deer caught mid-escape. then you’re stumbling over.
“oh my god,” you say. “hi. I—I didn’t know this was your apartment again. I didn’t mean to just like—last week—if that was weird or—”
takuma shakes his head fast. “it wasn’t weird. at all. I mean, it surprised me, but, uh. in a good way.”
you pause. blink. “really?”
“really,” he says. then, braver: “I've actually been hoping I'd run into you again.”
your breath catches. “oh.”
“and, um,” he adds, scratching the back of his neck, “if you're not doing anything tonight, maybe we could actually hang out? like talk. you know. with our mouths off each other.”
you laugh, cheeks warm. “yeah. I'd like that.”
you spend the whole night on the couch together, feet tucked up, drink forgotten on the side table. he asks you everything—your major, your favorite movie, whether you like cats or dogs more, whether you’ve always been this quiet.
you remind him of nanami. a little guarded. thoughtful. reserved. not cold, just self-contained. but unlike megumi, you don’t scoff at everything hopeful. you listen with wide eyes and small nods. takuma finds himself talking more than usual, because you actually make him feel heard. and you surprise him, too. you say dry, clever things that make him snort into his cup. you have this crooked smile that sneaks out when you least expect it.
he’s officially toast. by the end of the night, he doesn’t want to say goodbye. “so…” he says, hands nervously wringing together. “would you wanna go out sometime? like a real date. somewhere I can impress you.”
you raise an eyebrow. “are you planning on kissing me again?” you say, as if you weren’t the one who kissed him in the first place. 
"I mean—only if you want—”
you laugh. "I was hoping you would.”takuma’s face goes red. he beams. “then yeah. I'd really like that.” and he means it. he likes you, a lot. and he’s already planning ways to prove it.
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shiu’s on his way to work. not the kind of work that comes with a suit and 401k. the kind that involves shady offices, burner phones, and blood in the back seat if fushiguro doesn’t show up on time. he’s either heading downtown to his dingy little hideout or sitting curbside waiting for a client to bring the kind of mess no one else wants to clean up.
he doesn’t see exactly how it happens. one second he’s turning at a green light, and the next a shiny black tesla is gunning it across two lanes like it’s trying to break the sound barrier. and then—crash. metal. glass. crunch. his car takes the brunt of it. slams into the tesla, and somehow still clips you too.
he jerks forward with the impact. the seatbelt leaves a nasty burn across his chest. his baby—hot rod, his beautiful, custom-tuned, low-riding sweetheart—is groaning from the front end. hood buckled. front bumper dangling. engine coughing like it’s on its last breath. he’s pissed. he’s out of the car before the airbags deflate, already stalking toward the tesla like he’s going to drag the driver out through the window.
but then—you're already there. apologizing. repeatedly. like it was your fault. and the asshole in the tesla is loving it. he’s rubbing his neck, already prepping for the insurance scam, and smirking down at you like you’re a wounded puppy. “it’s alright, sweetheart,” he drawls, all fake charm and condescension.
shiu sees red. he steps in, all six-foot-something of muscle and rage, shoves tesla guy back with a hand to the chest. “you kidding me?” he snaps. “she wasn’t at fault here. you blew the light. you were speeding.”
tesla guy protests, something about his neck and a green light. shiu silences him with a glare. he knows his type—slick, greasy, and probably calls his mother’s maid “toots.” not happening. meanwhile, your car’s got a scratch and a ding, tops. his car? getting towed away in pieces. and still—you’re turning to him, soft and apologetic, offering your insurance info like you had anything to be sorry for.
he grabs your arm, not rough, but firm. directs you gently but unmistakably away from the mess. “don’t apologize,” he says, voice low. “not to that dickhead. you didn’t do anything wrong.”
you blink up at him, startled. he really gets a good look at you for the first time. you’re…pretty. real pretty. a little disheveled from the crash, still in work clothes. kind, clearly, even to people who don’t deserve it. that kind of kindness doesn’t survive long in his world. “you headed somewhere?” you ask, glancing at the wreckage of his car as it’s hooked to the tow.
“work,” he says, automatically.
“want a ride?” you offer. "I just got off a night shift. I'm free.”
he hesitates. his line of work isn’t…civilian-friendly. but you don’t need to know what’s behind the unmarked door he’s getting dropped off at. it’s just a ride. no big deal. and besides—he doesn’t like the thought of letting you disappear just yet. so he accepts.
it’s been a long time since shiu kong has ridden shotgun. but your car? it’s spotless. immaculate. it smells like you—floral, soft, sweet in a way that clings. the steering wheel is pink. there’s a little plush charm hanging from the mirror. it’s all so not his style. but he likes it anyway. you drive with one hand on the wheel and the windows cracked. talk a little, laugh quietly. you don’t ask too many questions. he likes that.
then your car pulls into his lot. you hesitate. the building is sketchy. unmarked. windows tinted, graffiti peeling. a place people walk past fast with their heads down. you glance at it, then at him. but you don’t ask. you just say, “want me to come back and get you when you’re done?” he stares at you for a moment. surprised. you don’t know him. you don’t owe him.
but you’re looking at him like you want him. like you see him—and you’re not scared. or maybe you should be, and that just makes him want you more. he shakes his head. “won’t be necessary. I'll have the car thing handled tonight.” shiu without a car is like a shark without teeth. just wrong.
but before he gets out, he pauses. glances at you, hand on the door handle. “give me your number,” he says.
you blink. “what for?”
he shrugs, casual. “just ‘cause I don’t need a ride…doesn’t mean I don’t wanna see you again.” you smile. kind. a little wary. but you hand over your number anyway. and shiu kong, criminal consultant and part-time getaway driver, walks into his back-alley office already planning when he’s going to call you.
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nanami works in finance. suits. deadlines. numbers that won't stop blinking at him. hiromi higuruma’s law firm shares the building. their companies partner often—legal and financials always tangled—and nanami’s walked the same halls as their employees more times than he can count.
you, though. you’re new. he’s seen you a few times. usually with your nose buried in a stack of paperwork, always moving with purpose. paralegal, he’d guess. he catches snippets—your name in passing, your voice on late-night calls echoing through the stairwell. you’re polite, focused. never unkind, but busy. too busy to notice anyone else. which is fine. he prefers to observe anyway.
it's late. the building is near-empty. everyone’s gone home except the usual suspects—higuruma still holed up in his office across the hall, nanami finalizing projections with an exhausted sigh, and you, curled up on the floor of the breakroom surrounded by documents, legal pads, and a cold, half-eaten sandwich. a storm rages outside. not just rain—sheets of it. thunder that rattles the glass. nanami packs up around 9:45. he pulls on his coat, briefcase in hand, and steps into the hallway right as you do.
you’ve got your hood pulled up and your tote bag slung over one shoulder. he nods at you out of habit. polite. respectful. his hand already on the door handle when he sees you hesitate, peering through the glass at the torrential rain. you sigh. adjust your coat. mumbling something about the mile-long walk to the station. nanami pauses. “pardon me,” he says, voice even. “are you headed toward the station?”
you look up at him, surprised. “yeah. I'm just hoping I don’t get struck by lightning on the way there.”
he doesn’t laugh. but the corner of his mouth quirks. “I'm parked out back. I'd be happy to offer you a ride.”
you hesitate. he sees it. but your eyes soften as you take him in: the tailored coat, the neat briefcase, the calm, steady presence of a man who never raises his voice and always holds the elevator door. “…you sure?” you ask. "I don’t want to be a bother.”
“it would bother me more,” he says, “to watch you walk through that storm.”
you blink. then smile. small. grateful. “alright. thanks.” he leads you to his car—a sleek, black luxury sedan. immaculate interior. smells faintly of cedar and clean laundry. he opens the passenger door for you, of course. it’s quiet for a moment once you're inside. the rain patters against the roof like static. you glance around, a little sheepish. “nice car.”
“it gets me where I need to go.”
“still. very…bond villain of you.”
that earns a ghost of a smile. “hopefully less villainous.”
you chat lightly on the way. he learns that you're not from the city. that you’re working while putting yourself through night classes. that you're tired—he can see that—but proud. you ask him what it is he actually does, because finance sounds like a broad umbrella.
he tells you. you listen. actually listen. it’s simple. it’s nothing. but it’s been a long time since someone has looked at him like you do. interested, engaged, without a trace of performance. he pulls into the station, and for a second neither of you moves. “thanks again,” you say, finally unbuckling your seatbelt.
“of course.” then you’re gone. rushing through the rain toward the platform, hood up again. nanami watches you go, hand still on the gearshift, mind curiously quiet.
but after that night, nanami is…resolved. he’d like to get you back in his car. but this time, for dinner. somewhere quiet. classy. you in a nice dress, him with his sleeves rolled to the forearms. maybe afterward, he’d take you to that little dessert café he only ever goes to on sundays. maybe, eventually, he’d take you home. not just a ride. a night. a morning after.
the thought surprises him. the intensity of it more than anything. he doesn’t act on impulse. never has. but he asks hiromi about you—just once. casually. hiromi doesn’t buy it for a second. “you?” he says, raising a brow. “since when do you flirt?”
"I wasn’t flirting.”
hiromi laughs. “alright. sure.” nanami doesn’t respond. but he’s thinking about you again before he even leaves the office.
two weeks pass. late nights. brief glances. passing hellos. it doesn’t rain again—until it does. a quiet friday, near closing time. thunder rolling in low and steady like a warning. he finishes his work deliberately late. watches the sky darken through the high windows. waits. and when you appear in the lobby, your coat too thin and no umbrella in sight, he’s already there. already standing beside you. already holding the door open with quiet expectation.
“it’s raining again,” he says. "I can give you a ride.”
you blink up at him, surprised. “oh—really? that would be… really nice, actually. thank you.”
you step into the car, brushing water from your sleeves. he turns the heat on a little higher, makes sure your seat warmer is on. you compliment the vehicle absently—something about how it smells nice, or how clean it is—and he simply says thank you. he says he’d be happy to drive you home, not just to the station. you assure him he doesn’t have to. he insists. 
the drive is mostly quiet. comfortable. your voice cuts through every now and then, soft and curious. you ask about the building he works in, if he likes the coffee on the third floor, how long he’s known hiromi. normal questions. friendly ones.
and nanami, steady as ever, answers all of them. carefully. thoughtfully. when he pulls up in front of your apartment, you start unbuckling, murmuring another round of gratitude. but before you go, he says, without looking over, “I'd like to see you outside the office sometime. if that’s something you’d be open to.”
there’s a pause. a small, confused silence. “like—help with something for work?”
his hand stills on the steering wheel. “no,” he says. “just dinner. if you’d like.”
you stare at him for a second. then smile, a little sheepish. “oh. um. sure. yeah, that sounds…nice.”
nanami nods once. keeps his expression neutral. but after you close the door and disappear into your building, he lets out a quiet breath—just a little longer than necessary—and smiles, just a little softer than usual.
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sukuna doesn’t usually wander the human world. it's tedious. soft. full of noise and smell and weak little creatures with short lives and even shorter memories. but today, he’s feeling… strange. restless. so he ends up in a museum, which is somehow worse and better at the same time—like walking through a graveyard of things he already buried.
he’s passing through a wing on ancient warfare when he hears your voice. “—and this particular design was popularized during the late kamakura period, though its origins likely trace back to—”
“that’s incorrect,” sukuna says flatly.
you glance over at him. “I'm sorry?”
he steps closer, hands tucked into the sleeves of his coat, eyes scanning the blade behind the glass. “the craftsmanship. that curve. the hamon. it predates kamakura.”
you arch a brow. “well, most scholars disagree.”
he shrugs. “they’re wrong.”
you smile tightly. “and how would you know?”
"I was there.”
there’s a pause. then you laugh, a single breath through your nose. “you were there. in the thirteenth century.”
“earlier.”
you blink. “right.”
he doesn’t elaborate. you don’t ask. the middle schoolers you’re touring shuffle awkwardly, sensing something off, and you keep moving with a practiced ease. sukuna follows. silently, at first. then he speaks again when you pause in front of a replica scroll. “that’s not how it looked.”
you sigh. “let me guess. you were there, too?” you think you’re playing into some theatrical joke. of course he wasn’t there…right? right? 
he hums. “not there. but I remember who drew it.”
you give him a sideways look. “well, if I'm getting all of this wrong, feel free to take over.”
"I would, but your delivery’s not terrible.” you don’t realize that’s a compliment. you just nod, like you’ve decided he’s one of those eccentrics who know a lot and talk a lot more. 
the kids leave, eventually. ushered out by a second staff member. but sukuna stays. you glance back and find him still behind you, hands clasped, eyes sweeping the room. “you’re not part of the tour,” you say.
“I'm aware.”
“then why are you still here?”
he shrugs again. “nothing better to do.” that’s not true. he’s killed for less boredom than this. but you…you’re interesting. not because you’re beautiful, though you are. not because you’re clever, though you are. but because you’re confident. steady. you stand in front of him like you don’t realize what he is—or maybe like you don’t care. either way, it fascinates him. 
you make another offhand remark about a historical treaty and he corrects you again. it’s barely even a correction. just a detail. a preference. he knows you’re not wrong. he just likes disagreeing with you. you glance over, amused now. “do you have a degree in this or something?”
“something like that.”
you roll your eyes, good-natured. “well, if you are a reincarnated warrior from a thousand years ago, you could at least be a little less smug about it.” he doesn’t smile. doesn’t correct you. you’re only human. maybe ninety years if you're lucky. you don’t know what it means to be alive forever. you wouldn’t believe him if he told you. so he doesn’t. he reigns himself in.
“what’s your name?” you ask eventually, still half-suspicious. he lies. gives you a simple one. something borrowed. you nod. “well, thanks for the impromptu history critique, I guess.”
“I'll be back,” he says, almost without meaning to.
you snort. “try not to heckle the next time.”
he watches you walk away—back through the staff hallway, badge clipped to your belt, keys jingling in your hand. he watches the way the museum lights flicker just slightly as you pass. he reminds himself that he doesn’t like humans. but maybe you’re not like most. 
he returns two days later. lingers near the entrance like a shadow. you notice him immediately, lips twitching in some combination of fondness and exasperation. “you again?” you say, meeting him halfway.
“you never corrected the kamakura exhibit,” he replies.
you roll your eyes. “let me guess. still wrong?”
he nods. then, after a beat: “there’s another museum. less modern. more...accurate. you should see it.”
you hesitate, trying to gauge if this is another one of his strange quirks or an actual invitation. “you want to take me to a museum?” you ask.
“to set the record straight,” he says. “nothing else.”
nothing else. not the way he wants to see how you light up when you talk about things you love. not the way your voice sounds when you're unsure but keep speaking anyway. not the way he could maybe—just maybe—show you things no one else can.
you tilt your head. “alright. but if you start arguing with the exhibits again, I'm leaving you in the feudal era.” he doesn’t smile. not quite. but his eyes burn a little brighter.
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yuuji waltzes into the er like it’s a casual wednesday. arm bleeding, shirt clinging to his skin, and a cocky little grin that’s doing a poor job of masking the fact that he’s very much in pain and maybe just a little dizzy. he did not mean to get this hurt. he also did not mean to walk into the trauma bay and immediately fall in love.
but there you are. clipboard in hand, blue scrubs, hair tied up, calm as a monk. you glance up at him and blink like, oh great, another idiot. and yuuji? he’s a goner. full-body, soul-leaving-the-chat goner. you’re beautiful. so beautiful it makes his teeth hurt. like, he thinks he might be bleeding more just to get your attention a little longer. and you’re cool. collected. you haven’t even smiled once and he already wants to marry you.
“looks deep,” you murmur, taking his vitals. your hands are gentle. professional. efficient. you don’t even flinch at the mess of his arm.
he tries to play it cool. “yeah,” he says. “you should see the other guy.” you don’t laugh. not even a pity smile. okay. fair. he’s bombing. but he can recover. 
you pull on gloves and start prepping the tray. “you need stitches. a lot of them.”
“sweet,” he says, because his brain is goo and he doesn’t know how to talk to pretty girls when he’s not also actively leaking blood. “do you do this often?”
you glance at him again, dry. “stitch people? it’s kind of my job.” right. yes. obviously. cool cool cool.
he shuts up for a bit while you clean the wound, staring at the ceiling and trying not to faint. from blood loss. or how close your face is. either/or. she has really nice eyes, he thinks. is that creepy? probably. don’t say anything about her eyes, man. don’t do it. don’t be that guy. you lean in closer to check his pupils with a tiny penlight, and yuuji’s stomach flutters like he swallowed a whole nest of butterflies. he can feel your breath on his cheek. smell your shampoo. his brain whites out for a second.
“you feeling lightheaded?” you ask, scribbling something down.
yes. because you exist. “nope. all good,” he croaks.
you’re stitching now. he winces. “sorry,” you murmur.
“no, no. it’s cool. you’re doing amazing. like, if I ever get injured again—which statistically I probably will—could I request you?” you glance at him like you're not sure if he’s joking. he is. but also, he’s not. and then he starts blatantly staring at you while you work. he can’t help it. he’s trying to memorize your face. commit this moment to memory. you in your element, brow furrowed in concentration, lips pursed in a way that makes his chest hurt.
you finish the last stitch and start taping gauze. “all done,” you say.
already? he sits up too fast and wobbles. you steady him with one hand. he’s in love. “do I get a sticker or something?” he asks, a little dazed.
you raise a brow. “do you want a sticker?”
“I'd keep it forever.” and there it is—a tiny laugh. barely a breath. but it counts. it’s the greatest sound he’s ever heard. he wants it as a ringtone. you start typing something into the chart on the monitor, clearly wrapping up, and yuuji panics. fast. “actually, uh—wait. I think I'm still a little lightheaded.”
you pause, peer over your shoulder. “you stood up fine.”
“yeah, but like, internally. I'm dizzy. maybe nauseous. blurry vision. could be internal bleeding.”
you squint. “from a forearm laceration?”
he nods, very serious. “anything’s possible. medical mysteries happen all the time.”
you sigh, come back over with your stethoscope. “alright, dr. house. let’s check you again.” he lets you, thrilled to be buying more time. you check him. everything’s normal. his pulse is a little fast, but that might be from the way you're touching his wrist. “ino,” you say slowly. “you’re fine.”
"I might throw up,” he tries.
“you won’t.”
he pouts. “can’t I just like…hang out here for a bit? make sure I don’t collapse outside?”
your lips twitch. “the waiting room’s that way.”
he winces. “so cold.” you’re already back at the chart again, wrapping things up for real this time. and now he’s desperate. time’s running out. so he blurts, “do you wanna maybe go out sometime?” silence. you glance at him over your shoulder, amused. exasperated. fond, somehow.
you don’t say yes. but you don’t say no, either. just shake your head, smiling despite yourself. and when he’s walking out of the er, still a little loopy, he’s already planning how he might maybe get injured again next week. nothing major. just…a mild concussion. or a broken finger. something small. just enough to see you.
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totallynotpochacco · 6 months ago
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hello!!
i love your work so much and i saw the platonic Alva fic you did recently it’s so sweet aaahh 😭
I was wondering if you would be open to doing a similar Alva father figure one where reader is a kind of strange kid(has a hard time talking with people, collects seashells, talks with body’s of water kind of just off in their own little world etc) sorry if this is like way too specific lol
anyhow, sorry for the long request. stay hydrated and take care of yourself!!
Hi beautiful! Dw it’s not too long!! And I’m so happy you liked the alva fic!! It was my first time writing for him!
“Peculiar things are much more interesting.”
Contains; fluff; reader was written somewhere between 14 and maybe 18;
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Alva has always had a knack for being intrigued by odd things. When a kid of odd nature shows up to the manor, he’s right there by their side ready to guide and help. He’s also ready to form his own hypothesis on them, will they do this? Or will they do that? If so why? And what causes this response?
The day you showed up it was clear you needed some sort of parental guidance, or just a guardian of sorts.
There wasn’t exactly much he could do, but he tried his best.
Subtlety making sure you ate, or quietly checking on you to make sure you haven’t gotten yourself into trouble.
Sometimes you’d be sitting next to each other on his office couch while he read to you, and if you fell asleep he’d wrap an arm around you, dozing off too.
On rare occasions he’s able to take a trip to the garden he’d watch you collect little stones from the pond and praise the ones you show him.
He frequently pats your head when he’s proud.
He enjoys showing you his work to. The fascination on your face makes him smile.
“What does this do?” You asked, pointing to one of his prints.
“That my dear, is plans for a new machine. I think it might be my best work yet.” He holds them out to show you better.
You always admire Alva’s work, he was a smart man even before the accident.
“I still have some prints to finish, would you like to sit on the couch? I could offer you a new book that I know you’ll like.” Shuffling through a drawer in his desk he pulls out an old book with worn covers, and places it in your direction.
Picking it up and reading the back it seems to be about an oceanic adventure. Giving him a thanks, you get comfy on the couch reading till your hearts content. Or until you accidentally pass out.
He didn’t seem to notice, having all his focus on writing formulas and equations, trying to figure out if this part will be better here or there.
It was around eleven pm when Alva finally finished, and as he looks up to apologize for how long it took him he instead shuts up and smiles.
Standing up carefully so as to not wake you, he takes the blanket off of the side and pulls it over you, tucking you in.
“Goodnight little one, may your dreams be sweet.” He softly spoke, feeling a bit of something parental in him, he finally drags himself away to his own room for some well deserved rest.
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Sorry the updates have been so slow, I’ve been really busy and I’ve had no motivation.
I do really want to apologize for the asks I have and I’ve never responded too, I’ll be getting to them later today, but since I have over thirty in my inbox it’s way too much and i will have to delete some.
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dustymoji-aac · 4 months ago
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Hello friends! :] I'm Dusty or FREAK. Welcome to my emoji blog! Please read through this pinned post before using my emojis.
But before all the important stuff, here's some info about me!
I'm 22 years old and my birthday is in april. I'm bigender, bisexual, and polyamorous. I use It/?/He/♡/She pronouns.
I have a lot of mental and physical issues so I won't list all of them here, but the most important ones to note are ::
I have DID
I am autistic with medium support needs
I am a part time AAC user
REQUESTS ARE :: OPEN
NEW REQUESTS MAY TAKE A LONG TIME TO GET DONE !! QUEUE IS LONG AND THE INBOX HAS A LOT OF REQUESTS . I DO NOT MIND TAKING AS MANY ASKS AS PEOPLE WANT TO SEND , BUT PLEASE KNOW IT WILL TAKE A WHILE TO GET THROUGH THEM .
QUEUE IS :: PAUSED
While the queue is paused, feel free to send me asks about anything :] might make an ask game while my arms recover
COMMISSIONS ARE :: OPEN
I do not have a DNI, nor do I require credit on AAC apps. However, if you are using my emojis for anything else (including discord, pfps/avatars, simply plural, octocon, etc) I ask that you please credit me by putting "dustyaac_" before the emoji, linking to my tumblr, or otherwise crediting me.
Please do not trace my emojis! I do not mind people taking inspiration from, getting ideas from, or even copying the poses of my emojis, I only ask that you do not trace over them directly.
I am not able to write accurate and accessible image descriptions. I always welcome others adding them to my emojis.
There are some things I am either not confident in my ability to draw or are uncomfortable with drawing. These things are ::
Endogenic terms
TransID terms
Most fandom content (I will make a folder)
Complex Machinery
Detailed Armor
Ocs
Alters
Most of these I will draw for commissions !! Please check my kofi or my commission info post [HERE] for more info !!
Other than those, I will attempt to draw most things to the best of my ability! Including but not limited to ::
Phrases
Objects
Animals
Plants
Weather
Food and Drinks
Folders [MORE INFO + FULL LIST WITH LINKS TO EVERY FOLDER I'VE MADE]
Wordmojis
Emotions
Symptoms
OSDDID terms
Kink terms
Agere terms
Content from the following fandoms ::
○ DSMP
○ Minecraft
○ Pokemon
○ Animal Crossing
○ My Little Pony
○ SCP
○ Analog Horror
○ Homestuck
○ Slime Rancher
○ Madoka Magica
○ MHA // BNHA
○ Creepy Pasta
○ Sesame Street
○ Overwatch
○ Avatar the Last Airbender
○ Adventure Time
○ Steven Universe
○ Stardew Valley
If you aren't sure, send a request anyway! I promise I won't mind :] the worst I'll say is that I can't do it.
My tag system is pretty simple. For my personal tags I put "! +" infront of them. My main ones are as follows ::
#AACOM :: a community tag i made for AAC community posts, emojis, etc
#! + dusty talks :: text post
#! + dusty draws :: emoji post
#! + might remake :: old art or art i wasn't happy with that I might come back and remake
#! + (category) :: "nature", "animal", "food", etc. Describes the type of emoji
#! + resource :: a resource for AAC
#! + not dusty :: a reblog
#! + add to aac :: an emoji i personally want to add to my own aac. emoji creators please let me know if you do not want your emojis reblogged or used this way!
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These are the main styles I'll be using. They're called Overworld, Nether, and End. Expect inconsistency! More styles may be added over time.
Any similarities to other art/artist's styles are purely coincidental. I will never trace, copy, or take inspiration from another artist without permission. If one of my emojis resembles another artist's work and you believe I may have unintentionally taken inspiration from them, please inform me so I can either provide credit or take down the emoji.
If you'd like to find me elsewhere, here are my other blogs!
@ineffableangelics :: Agere, weirdcore, dreamcore themed! SFW. Oc Posting!
@printed-paws :: Main, mainly scream themed at the moment. I post most of my art there!
@comingforyourkneecaps :: Spam !! I also post some art there that I'm too shy to post on my main
I interact from @ask2pfrance, it is inactive.
Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day.
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If you'd like to send me a tip, please visit my Kofi below !! ♡ I appreciate it so much and it motivates me to draw more :] you'd be helping me and my partner a lot with living expenses
I also take commissions on there !! ^^
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My sonas say hi !! Cosette, Pumpkin, and Venii.
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deathzgf · 3 months ago
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Dear sir, i hope this ask finds you in good health and all that and if you’re still into amrev/frev could i pretty please hear about your essay on the similarities between saint-just and john laurens 🥺
if not, feel free to delete this ask!
your obedt. servant,
mizumech
first of all I AM SO SORRY FOR LETTING THIS ROT IN MY INBOX for. checks watch. gulps. Dont even worry about it kitten. anyways. i have been so excited to answer this ask ever since receiving it i do not know why i have been neglecting it so much
second of all this whole thing is like 99 . 9 % a joke between my good friend @toastytrusty & i + ridiculous stretches so dont expect anything too serious LMFAO
ok ramblings of a madman time yay
so the saintlaurens towers were first hit by the similarity planes back in late 2023 which prompted This Fuck Arse Venn Diagram
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dont worry if you cant read it because i cant either . will try to decode what i can ft updated commentary to start off this yapfest though !
little fifteen year old me put in the saint - just set :
french
fatherless mdr
, in the laurens set :
numerous of his letters still intact ( * ?? i think i was blinded by my grief of sjs letters getting burnt when i wrote this because laurens certainly had his unfair share of lost letters )
american
present father
in a musical ( * im pretty sure sj is in a musical too ( Not les mis ) but i did not know this back in 2023 )
, & in the intersection :
( almost ) 27 at death
gay
autistic
mentally unwell
artist ( * to a certain extent ... side eyes sj )
in love with major revolutionary figure
military twink
almost lawyers
tried desperately to escape home town ( * its been so long i do not remember what i was referring to with tried " desperately " to escape home town with regards to sj )
" babe come home from the war i miss you "
enjolras tbh
gay trio ( couthon , robespierre , saint - just / la fayette , hamilton , laurens )
& honestly Yeah . Ok . Sure . no idea what i was cooking with some of these but
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we also got
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actually this might end up a compilation of various bullshit screenshots because i do not know how to collect and redistribute the sacred knowledge they hold in any better format
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also flowers. something something john sunflower symbolism laurens something something louis antoine " florelle " saint - just
oh theres also The Fire
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+ The Hand Thing
and Before you jump me gentle reminder once again that this is fun & games and i am well aware those are two incredibly different things & one is just made up for the hell of it but i like fire trucks and monster trucks i like to play & draw
anyways. theres also also their , as poetically put by toast , " lack of runtime "
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theres also also ALSO their fuck arse gay arse letters
AND SOCIALISM !!!
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& after scouring twitter & discord w key words i cannae find any more worth sharing nor anything to jog my memory enough but if i think of anything else i will update this with more silliness & if anyone thinks of anything else feel free to add :3
thank you for the ask !!! im so sorry again for taking so long & sorry if this is underwhelming AJLKFJDLKSJFK
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musical-shit-show · 2 years ago
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isn't it delicate?
Pairing: Musical!Beetlejuice x Reader
Inspiration: Prompts #1 (“did…did you just kiss me?”) and #2 (“i didn’t mean to say that but yeah, i love you.”) from Prompt List 2, requested by @animetattoochick
Warnings: cursing, sexual innuendo, fluff
Word Count: 2,701
Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience on this one! I really haven’t been feeling very inspired lately, but I’m so glad I was able to finish this request. I have one more in my inbox currently but after that I think I may be able to get a couple other one shots out before the end of the year. I always love this time of year and I tend to feel more inspired around the holidays, so hopefully I’ll have the time to write more! As always check out my Masterlist, About Me page, or Prompt Lists if you’d like to submit an ask! Happy reading :)
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“So…any men in your life I should know about while you’re up there?”
“Mom! That’s…no. Not…really, no.”
“Well, alright. That wasn’t very convincing, but I’ll take it,” your mother mused over the phone, only slightly teasing, “Just, tell me: are those people being good hosts? What were their names again—?”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. Your mom was always the forgetful type, “Charles and Delia. And their daughter, Lydia. She’s about sixteen, I think? Cute kid.”
You didn’t feel like you should mention the fact that your new teenage counterpart only wore black and was incredibly morbid, or that two ghosts occupied the attic, or that you were frequently plagued by a literal demon.
If you told your mom any of that, odds were that she’d drop dead from shock.
Ever since you started renting out the Deetz’ third bedroom in their Connecticut home, you tried to keep the details to a minimum when talking to your family. All they knew was that you had moved hundreds of miles away for your dream job, which was true; what they didn’t need to know what that you practically lived in a haunted house.
For the first few weeks you lived there, everything was relatively normal. Delia and Charles were in the city most days, and when you got home from work, Lydia was usually at the kitchen table doing her homework or in the attic. One day, you were headed to your room when you heard concerned whispers coming from the other side of the attic door.
“I just don’t know if now is the right time to tell her, you know?” you heard an older male’s voice say, his tone clearly distressed. You couldn’t help but wonder who Lydia was talking to given that Charles had been gone for a few days.
“Adam, it’s been weeks!” Lydia shot back, “Besides, I’m worried if we wait too long, you know who might show up and scare her away. You know how he gets.”
“She does have a point, hon,” this time, a sweeter woman’s voice spoke, “Besides, I think she’ll take it well. She gets along with Lydia just fine, doesn’t she?”
“Of course! If I just explain—”
“Okay, okay,” the voice now identified as Adam cut in, “I was getting a little sick of hiding up in the attic again.”
You heard the old door creaking open and bolted to your room, shutting your own door as quietly as you could. You stood at the foot of your bed, utterly confused.
Who were those people?
When did they manage to sneak into the attic?
And why the fuck was Lydia keeping some huge secret from you?
You thought you had a good rapport with her, given that you were several years her senior and were getting along with her alright. You maybe even could see yourself taking on an older sibling role, especially since she didn’t have any of her own and few friends at school.
Plus, you could tell she had a hard time opening up. As your mind slowed, you realized she would only come to you when she was ready. Whatever weird shit was going on would become your business when she finally told you.
It didn’t take long after your adventure in snooping.
A few days later, you heard a soft knock on your door and Lydia’s small frame peaked through the door. “Come on in,” you smiled, closing your laptop, “I was just checking out dinner options, how does pizza sound?”
“Oh, um, yeah,” she replied, uncharacteristically timid, “Pizza sounds great.” An awkward silence filled the air as she sat down on the edge of the bed, the buckles on her black chunky boots jangling slightly, “So…I have to tell you something.”
“I figured.”
“It’s just…I don’t want to freak you out or anything,” she began gingerly, “I haven’t told anyone about this, but since I like you and you’re living here, I thought it’s only fair—”
She was very sweet for beating around the bush, but you couldn’t keep it in anymore, “Is this about your two friends you’ve been sneaking in? Because honestly, Lydia, it’s completely fine if you have people over, you’re not bothering me—”
“What, no, I—” Lydia stared at your incredulously, “How did you—?”
“I heard you all talking the other day,” you confessed, finding her teenage antics a little endearing, “You aren’t exactly the quietest bunch, but like I said, I don’t mind.”
Lydia shook her head, not wanting anything about her situation to be misconstrued, “No, you don’t understand. Adam and Barbara, they aren’t friends from school or anything like that. They live here.”
You blink stupidly.
“Or, I guess lived here.”
You grew even more confused.
“I’m not sure I understand,” you said, a small laugh escaping your lips.
“They’re dead,” Lydia finally stated, unsure how to make herself any clearer, “Ghosts. They died here before me, my dad and Delia moved in. And…since you’ve been here, they’ve been staying in the attic.”
You laughed involuntarily. You couldn’t help it.
Surely this teenager was fucking with you.
But as silence once again permeated the room, Lydia stared at you earnestly, not breaking into a mischievous smile or shouting a good “gotcha!”.
“Oh,” you muttered, “Oh, you’re serious.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Cool. Ghosts are real. I can handle that.”
“Yeah, you seem really calm right now. It’s kinda freaking me out.”
“I’m good,” you reassured her. Or maybe you were just reassuring yourself? “I am. Just…processing.”
The existence of ghosts didn’t surprise you that much, but you were obviously way off when it came to Lydia’s secret. In your defense, you were busy with the move and your job and everything else, how could you notice anything strange going on?
“There’s something else too,” Lydia said quietly, swinging her chunky black boots off the bed and landing on the floor with a thud, “Or, I guess, someone. His name is, well, I usually call him Beej. He’s like a super chaotic ghost or demon, I’m not really sure. It’s a long story…”
She shifted on the bed again. “Anyways, I met him pretty quickly after we moved here, and, well, he’s kind of…a lot. And he left for a bit, but he and I are actually friends. Real friends, not like before. Like I said, long story, but I just wanted to tell you in case he shows up here and—”
Before Lydia could finish, a flash of green light illuminated the room, and the figure that appeared before you was the strangest man you had ever seen.
He donned a hideous black and white striped suit that appeared to be falling apart at the seams, and his hair was a violent shade of green that actually made you wince. His skin was sickly pale, and the tattered overcoat he wore to round out the ensemble shed dust and dirt particles with every movement.
“Lyds!” he shouted, his voice grating and coarse, “My ears were burning; were you talking about me, oh best friend of mine?” He tousled the teen’s hair, much to her dismay. Before Lydia could answer, he turned his attention to you.
Eyeing you up and down, the man cocked his head to this side. You felt a light tingle on the back of your neck; why did you suddenly feel like you were being hunted?
“And who do we have here?” he purred, a Cheshire cat smile spreading across his face, “Babysitter?”
“I’m sixteen, asshole. I don’t need a babysitter,” Lydia chimed.
You told him your name, and considered extending your hand in formality. That idea quickly disintegrated when you saw how grimy his hands looked, fingers black at their tips in a clear indication of decay.
“I, uh, live in the guest bedroom,” you choked out, “And your name is…?”
“Wish I could tell, ya, babe,” he said with a chuckle, running his tongue across his slightly jagged teeth, “I like to say I’m the ghost with the most, but you can call me whatever you like—”
Lydia was quick to cut him off from the incessant attempts at flirting, and you learned his real name was Beetlejuice. He winced at the sound, and the more he and the younger girl told you about their escapades, the more enthralled you became.
Before you could fully process all the insane information the duo was throwing at you, Beetlejuice left, citing a bio-exorcism that needed attending to. You made a mental note to have Lydia explain that in greater detail later. With a *pop* and a puff of green smoke, he was gone.
But not for long.
Over the next few months, Beetlejuice’s visits became more and more frequent, much to the dismay of everyone else in the house, living and dead.
Except for you.
You found him utterly fascinating, despite his shocking outward appearance and often lascivious gaze. Yes, he was a dead guy, but he always made an effort to ask you about your life, even if it was followed up by a crude joke or bad pick-up line. When he wasn’t tormenting the other inhabitants of the Deetz residence, he was almost…sweet to you.
Of course, his sweetness was usually undercut with his sleazy tendencies; Though you knew he liked getting a rise out of you and you would often bicker with him on purpose. Even as you performed mundane tasks, you could tell he was leering at you, studying your every move.
You thought you were alone while on the phone with your mother, but Beetlejuice had become sneakier; this time he was listening outside your room, floating inches above the floor so his shadow couldn’t be seen under the doorframe.
“Anyways, no, there’s, uh, no guy,” you said sheepishly, your tone coming out more bitter than you intended. “You know I’d tell you, Ma.”
“I know, honey,” she said, her voice comforting you, “Just, try to make some friends, okay? We miss you and I don’t want you to be lonely.”
For some reason this made tears well up in your eyes. “I miss you too,” you choked, masking your sob with a cough, “And uh, I’ll try, don’t worry. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” There was a pause on the other end. Your mom knew you were crying, which made you want to cry even more.
“Okay,” she said, not wanting to upset you further. She knew you too well, “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Your phone beeped and then returned to your home screen, and you let out a heavy sigh. A few tears dropped onto your jeans, the salt stinging your eyes.
“Who made you cry?”
You nearly jumped out of your skin as Beetlejuice materialized next to you, a few strands of his hair sprouting red at the roots. You shook your head in dispute.
“No, it was just my mom—”
“Oh, typical mothers. They really are the worst sometimes. Y’know, did I ever tell you how my mom—”
“Beej!” you cut him off before he went on another one of his rants, “I know. I’m sure you’ve told me. But no, she didn’t make me cry.” You wiped a stray tear away from your face and sniffled, feeling pathetic. “I guess I’m just a bit homesick.”
His hair instantly reverted back to its original state of vibrant green as he sat down on the bed next to you. “Oh…right,” he said, twiddling his thumbs, “You breathers can get so…sensitive sometimes, huh?”
You laughed dryly. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” It didn’t take long at all for you to see that Beetlejuice was a big softy, even though he liked to tease and scare you on an almost daily basis.
You didn’t mind, not even a little bit. Because against your better judgement, you found yourself developing feelings for him. Weirdly strong feelings. And you weren’t sure what that meant with him, well, being dead and all.
That fact didn’t seem to matter when he took your hand in his, your warm palm contrasting with his almost frigid skin. You felt yourself shiver, and you weren’t sure if it was from the sudden temperature change or the physical contact.
“I’m uh, not really good with this shit,” he said indelicately, “But I like having you around. Usually, I spend all my time either in the Netherworld or scaring the life outta breathers but…I didn’t want to come back to this house that much until you showed up. So…thanks for that.”   
He ran his thumb across the back of your hand, the gesture making your insides churn.
“Plus, if you were gone, I’d lose my eye candy,” he added, making you instantly blush and let out a laugh, “Adam’s hot and all, but you might just have him beat—"
You couldn’t help it. You kissed him. Your eyes were still red from residual tears, and he was a demon, and you tasted the faintest earthy flavor on your lips, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about any of those facts.
It was a fairly chaste kiss, only lasting a few moments before you pulled away. Instantly Beetlejuice’s hair started sprouting a light pink color.
“Did…did you just kiss me?” he asked in disbelief. He was usually the one doing the kissing, or groping, or endless propositioning.
A sheepish laugh escaped your throat, your palms instantly moistening with nervous sweat. “Uh, yeah?” you croaked, “Is that alright?” Beetlejuice looked utterly dumbfounded.
“Alright?” he laughed. If he were still alive, his heart would’ve fluttered. “Babe, more than alright, I loved it! Shit, I’ve loved every second you’ve been in this boring ass house…because I love you.”
The realization came to the demon as soon as the words left his lips. He didn’t even register what he had said until you muttered, “you love me?”
Fuck.
‘Well,’ the demon thought, ‘no going back now’. He couldn’t detect whether you were pleased or creeped out by the sudden escalation, but decided to trudge forward through the emotionally honest deep end he had unwittingly dove into.
“Erm…” now it was his turn to be sheepish, “I didn’t mean to say that but yeah, I love you. Sorry to one up you, babe, but if you wanna go back to making out, you won’t get any complaints outta me.”
Even as he cracked jokes, he could feel his anxiety rising to his hair, which was slowly turning a sickly shade of yellow that mixed with the pink strands. He held his nonexistent breath as a wide grin spread across your face.
“Oh Beej, I love you too,” you said, finally able to put words to the ache you’ve felt for him for weeks, “Even though you’re a complete perv who shouldn’t have been spying on me in the first place.”
He scoffed at the accusation. “Look babe, let’s not forget who kissed who first,” he reminded, tracing his fingers along your arm. His hair was now a vibrant pink. “Though I wouldn’t mind going in for round two—”
“Round two of what, exactly?!” Lydia burst through the door, causing the two of you to jump away from each other on the bed. “Or do I even want to know.” The young girl looked disgusted at the thought.
“Jesus Christ, Lyds, ever heard of knockin’?!” Beetlejuice admonished. It was so big brother of him it almost made you burst out laughing.
“Yeah, I wonder where she got the spying from,” you deadpanned, your gaze flickered between the both of them before landing on Lydia, “We’ll meet you downstairs in a minute to talk, alright?”
She crossed her arms across her chest before stomping down the steps, yelling out a “No funny business!” for good measure, utterly embarrassing you and tickling Beetlejuice all at once.
You made a mental note to banish him the next time you talk to your mom; the fact that you were now dating a literal dead guy would not be a topic of discussion on the next phone call, and you didn’t need Beetlejuice butting in to introduce himself as her future son-in-law.
----
thanks for reading! please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed! :)
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copperbadge · 2 years ago
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I know that it’s been a Very Long Time but do you ever get terribly nostalgic for old/less active fandoms? I confess I recently came back to tumblr and saw that I followed you. I was like, of course Sam storyteller, the Bucky guy. But then I got a hankering for my older and dearer by far love Ianto Jones and went back to reread some of the greatest hits and I remembered. You are not the Loki guy. You are the Ianto guy, to me, and I can’t believe I forgot that. I miss that fandom so much it was so fucking. Toxic. The Gwen bashing, I simply cannot romanticize it in good conscience. But the fic quality and diversity was, dare I say it, nearly unparalleled (in my heart). Like when it hit it really hit you know? A golden age of trashy sci fi indeed. I miss my dead welsh son. Sorry to ramble in your ask box about the dubious old days
Anon, I am so sorry, a bunch of my asks got pushed way down in the inbox and then I forgot they were there, so apologies this is MONTHS late in getting posted.
I, eh, I don't really get nostalgic for old fandoms. Usually I leave them for a reason, but even if I just drift away, my experience of a fandom is pretty fundamentally different from most because of my higher profile. There are things I can't do or say in a fandom that other people could, and there are things that happen to me outside of my control. They're not even necessarily bad things, just stuff like...I'll write a fic in a new fandom, and people from my previous fandom will start engaging with the canon because I did. So often, rather than just falling away from a fandom, I'll leave a fandom and drag a bunch of people with me. They might not even leave the older fandom, but they come along to the new one too.
And often the wanks that pull people in without their consent simply don't touch me because there's a portion of fandom that is either scared of me (or my readers) or just doesn't want anything to do with me. I can't determine which.
Torchwood's a pretty good case in point -- the Gwen bashing was extreme. I wasn't a fan of Gwen but what I saw from the antigwenallies was really, really gross. Still, even though I wrote fic about Gwen and engaged in meta around her presence in the show, I avoided them and thus had exactly one interaction with them ever, which was when they posted up a fic of mine as "anti-Gwen" and I asked them to remove it and never recc anything of mine again. They did, and that was the end of that. Nobody ever came to my posts to attack her or me. Likewise, there was one really, really aggressive anti-Ianto wanker, but she never engaged with me or even as far as I know talked about me, despite the fact I was a huge Ianto fan and wrote a lot of fic about him. I really hated the shit she said, but I also didn't see any value in arguing, so I left her alone and she left me alone. (I won't name her because I checked up on her a few years ago and it turns out she was struggling with serious mental health issues that she'd gotten a lot of help for, and felt really terrible about the things she'd done, so I'm actually quite proud of her. But if you know you know.)
I also just...have a bad memory, so I often don't remember what happened in a fandom, or even sometimes that I was in a fandom. Most of the memories I do have are either vaguely warm and friendly, or "avoid this fandom/person at all costs" based in a negative interaction (which I sometimes don't remember the details of).
So yeah...I mean, Torchwood ended pretty terribly so I don't miss it in part because I try not to think about it. Generally if I have a good time in a fandom and then leave it, it's because I simply said all I had to say there. But I'm usually looking forward, not back, just because the past is a bit of a fog bank for me, most of the time.
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oraclekleo · 10 months ago
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I'm BACK (for good this time)
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Hello my dear followers and random visitors of this blog!
So! I'm finally back from the cottage, this time for good as the autumn is starting and it's getting cold and rainy. My city flat is much better suited for such a weather 😂
How have you been throughout the summer? Did you go for a vacation or holiday somewhere interesting? Have you experienced something exciting? You can share!
I hope you all had at least some fun during the hot summer.
I managed to rest, relax and miraculously my hair is also getting better. It was at the verge of baldness but finally it's thickening again. Yay! Still short, though. And I'll probably keep it that way, at least for the rest of the recovery time. Some women simply weren't born to be damsels in distress with flowing mane of hair on their head. Some of us are born for practical pixie cut and doing everything on their own 🤣 (I'm still envious of those thick long hair, to my shame 😂)
And what's in the store for the upcoming days?
I'm going to reinvent my life and go on a job hunt but this time focusing more on things that are important for me personally and not following other people's expectations. It turned out to lead to disappointment and bordering burnout on my side. No more of that!
The above is more like my personal mission but there are also news for you on this blog. I have several ideas for games, PACs and other fun activities. Look forward to that! We might start tomorrow but I don't want you to have false hopes. It's a "might" for the moment. 😁
I have also decided to start with a clean inbox. I'm gonna be deleting the old requests. I know several of you were waiting for their readings for some of the old games but I'm afraid I'm out of that mindset. I can only promise to hold better executed games in future where everyone will get their result. I'm genuinely sorry for letting you down like this.
I'll hold a poll for you to choose a fandom or better say soul family name for our little community around this blog. I already have some suggestions in my inbox but you can send more. What fandom name would you pick for the fans of this blog?
The paid readings are open and currently I even have time to take requests. Feel free to check the rules and contact me.
You are also still welcome to join our little Discord, if you want to.
That's the main summary. You can always come and ask me anything you are interested in. 😛
Thank you everyone for sticking around and being supportive and encouraging! 💖
Kleo
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starlit-soothsayer · 7 months ago
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[Last updated 4/23/25]
Before sending any asks, it may be worthwhile to read this post and check this tag. You can choose not to, but I will redirect you to it if you ask something already covered here.
If I ignore a post you've reblogged from me or tagged me in, it's because it's either has insults/assumptions targeted at me (in the post body or in the tags) or is answered already through this FAQ.
If you want a particular piece of information, or you're just curious about something, my inbox is always open (though I may close it during breaks). I don't block non-bot users on this account, no matter how insufferable; the only exception is users on my posts that are intentionally trolling.
Interaction with other's opinions is not endorsement. If I don't say something myself, then you should not take it as something I personally believe.
This blog exists to provide information, regardless of any personal gripes. You can come here and draw your own conclusions without the influence of others. That is its primary purpose. Everything I've compiled is here (several documents/images still pending). There is also this tag for posts on my blog with screenshots or links to files.
Who are you?
If you don't know who I am, you haven't been paying attention. You can always make guesses in my inbox or DMs, and if anyone guesses correctly then I'll provide a link, no questions asked. The only stipulation is that is that guesses can't be made anonymously.
I am protective of my identity for good reason. I won't give it away easily.
How old are you?
Much older than several people think. I've been online longer than most people on Tumblr have been alive.
[Something about comparing Sai to Lily]
I've stated my piece on this already. No, I do not care that Sai has said slurs. It's not exactly a good look, but she's an adult and can deal with the consequences.
Comparisons of personality are not comparisons of crimes. If you can't get over this hurdle, you're too young or too emotional for this blog.
[A lazy insult]
Cry harder. I might start to care.
You just want attention!
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[Something about gooning or pedophilia]
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[An assumption about my stance on NSFW content]
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[Something about Lily being a predator/pedophile/incest writer]
I'm aware. You're preaching to the choir. I've reported her already. Let's stay focused.
[Something about this is a waste of my time / get a life]
This is a side blog for a reason. I have projects I work on that are my main focus. When I'm no longer interested I'll disappear.
[Something about piracy/ art theft]
If you're reading this, there's a 90 percent chance you have pirated something before. This is not the morality smoking gun you think it is. Regardless, any information I provided is public knowledge that can be obtained for free in some form or another, it just may be incredibly inconvenient for the average internet denizen to do so. I will never share a DM that isn't already posted somewhere else (even if where it's posted is not on Tumblr).
Did you send me an ask?
No. Never. I don't send asks from this account. I provide information. What others do with it is up to them.
Did you delete [insert post here]?
No. I don't delete posts. If a thread gets to be incredibly long I may remove a few of the posts in-between, but the entire chain as a whole will always be accessible. I may delete replies that are pointless argument bait.
[XYZ person] interacted with your post!
Great for them. I don't care.
[Something NSFW directed at or about me]
I will not answer questions like this, doubly so if it is anonymous. Ask off anon or don't ask at all.
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saintsugu · 1 year ago
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ive taken the past few days to gather my mental bearings and try to properly formulate my thoughts. as a survivor of csa, i do not take these topics and criminal allegations lightly.
- starting with the two (2) threads that i wrote on twitter: writing has always been a form of therapy for me. I began writing on Twt, rather than just post on this blog, for a reason. It was separate from the the friends i’ve made on here. I’d be able to write things that about trauma that i’m too ashamed to admit. I could discuss topics that have been prevailing factors in my own real life without feeling worried about being shamed. I get that these are taboo topics (and for good reason), but I don’t know where the conclusion formed that just because i was discussing / consuming these topics through fiction, automatically meant that i was getting off on the idea of it happening in real life; especially compared to the possibility that maybe i was using it to cope.
Everybody has lines they’re not willing to cross. I get it; I have those too, believe it or not. for me— as a survivor, discussion of underaged content falls into the same category alongside of noncon, stepcest/incest and cannablism. None of which i support in real life yet all of which i have at some point consumed via fiction. Now obviously, these standards aren’t the same for everyone, but in my mind there is no difference. I would never accuse someone of being a r*pist if they wrote noncon. I would never claim that it’s dangerous for them to interact with women in their real lives.
People deal with trauma in different ways. When I first started to write dark content on my old blog, i dipped my feet into dubcon. I didn’t care much for it. But then in the months following, i was SA’ed by my best friend. I then began to write graphic noncon. And i felt a bit better— a bit more in control. I was now choosing when and where i was viewing and consuming fiction with these topics, rather than when i had something i did not want forced onto me.
It’s taken me a long time to begin to process certain things that took place in my childhood. Having to process something, that happened more than a decade ago, entirely alone with zero support from anyone i know is difficult. I found a way to help myself cope. My methods may have been unsavory and uncomfortable for people, but not to the extent of graphically telling me how to k*ll myself in my inbox. Yes, I did write and consume underaged fiction in order to cope with my personal trauma. I fully own up to that. At the end of the day, fiction is just fiction.
Concerning the ‘expose’ post, the OP also claims that this was not to start a witchhunt, just to shed light to the situation; all the while, they were in my inbox telling me to kill myself before even making a post. Alright. People have had no issues calling me the f slur, making transphobic remarks/purposely misgendering me, and of course, graphically telling me how i should end my life. They’ve sent hundreds of asks claiming they care about the situation, when in my opinion—which might not mean much, no matter how you feel about me, if you resort to threatening, hate mobbing and threatening me irl, you are not handling things in the right way either.
In regards to the minor in my following list, i don’t know who she was or if her pinned post had changed. when i read the expose post i immediately unfollowed her and checked to be met with the fact that she didn’t follow me and we had shared a total of zero messages between the two of us. I am unsure if her pinned post changed or if I had foolishly followed her without checking to a full extent. Either way, we had no interactions. That might sound like a copout but unfortunately, i have no other commentary i can share on the matter.
at the end of it all, i can only control my own boundaries. i tag everything accordingly and that is the most i can do. drawing and fictional pieces cannot be considered cp.
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naivesilver · 2 years ago
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RIGHT. hello again. I am once again in your inbox :) how about 'would you stop with the worry - flurry?' or 'i care cause it’s not fair!' or 'oh , sweetie , what’s wrong?' from the EAH ask for Cedar? 🥰
HI I AM VERY LATE but. You know. Gretel duty called AHSKDGASKHDKGNADSC thank you, I hope you'll be able to forgive me 💗💗💗 also, I did try to come up with some ACTUAL EAH content, but the urge was too strong, so have a little Uncle Wick and Baby Cedar snippet again LMAO
Ever After High Quote Starters
"Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong?"
People made of wood can't cry, so Cedar really isn't crying, no siree.
What she is doing, instead, is kicking the underside of her bed with her foot, so the thumping noise will drown the yelling coming from downstairs. She hasn't been very successful thus far - her father and grandfather are louder even than the obnoxious clacking of wood against wood, and keep getting worse as they go - but Cedar is determined to continue, if only for lack of anything better to do; she can't get tired, and she's scared of what might happen if she leaves the room, so kicking it is, for now.
Besides, she feels kind of safe, laying on the floor under the bed, as though she were being kept in a neat little box. There'll be some dust flakes clinging to her hair when she crawls out, maybe, but it's not like she gets allergies, and no one will think to look for her there, not until they've calmed down a bit.
Or at least, that's what she thought. The creaking of the door opening makes her freeze, her leg dropping as the two men's row gets louder for a moment before it's shut out again - Cedar would hold her breath if she had any, but as it is, she can only wait, wide-eyed, as a pair of legs approach the bed heavily and kneel down to check underneath.
That's when Uncle Wick's thin, long face pops into view, smiling broadly at her. "Hello, pretty girl. Mind if I join you?"
"No." It's the truth. Of course it's the truth. Cedar is always happy to see Uncle Wick. It's just that she wishes it were Dad instead, because it would mean that the fight is over and she can leave her hiding spot for good.
Still, Grandfather says she shouldn't look a gifted Pegasus in the mouth, so she simply watches as her father's best friend lays on his back and wriggles to fir next to her - he's fairy tall, Uncle Wick, which means his long legs are probably poking out from under the bed in a very silly way, but Cedar isn't really in the mood for laughing, right now. She reprises her kicking, instead, eyes fixed stubbornly on the bed-frame.
A hand comes up to rub at her head, mussing her curly hair. "What's wrong, sweetpea? They shout at you too?"
"No. They just said I should go to my room." Which is much, much worse, in her opinion. "But they're talking 'bout Raven. Raven is my friend. Why can't I listen too?"
"I don't know, kiddo. They told me to get out too." Uncle Wick sighs heavily, his voice growing wistful.
"Look, they're gonna tire themselves out at some point, okay? That's how it always goes. No clue what old Milton told them, but they can't be mad at him forever."
The problem is, Cedar isn't so sure they're mad at Headmaster Grimm and not, say, each other. She wasn't allowed to hear much of what they were saying, but she caught enough to worry - Raven's name came up, and her mother's, and something Grandfather had done, and then off she was, pressing her hands against her ears in an useless attempt to ignore them all.
She's supposed to go to this headmaster's school with Raven when she's older, so she can follow her destiny and become a real girl. Are they going to quarrel so loudly, too, when it's time? Is that why she was sent away, so they don't start fighting too soon? It doesn't make sense.
And what does the Evil Queen have to do with it, anyway? She's dead. Cedar and Raven were supposed to be playing in the workshop while their fathers talked about what would happen after, but they got distracted enough, what with all those somber, whispering adults. "Nothing bad's happened to Raven, right?"
"Course not, Cedar. She's doing just fine. Bet you can go visit her during the weekend, if you ask your dad."
That's something, at least. And yet, the relief is short-lived, for a moment later Pinocchio's voice raises even louder and angrier, so different from his customary soft tones. "Listen, I don't know what Grimm asked you to do, but don't tell me it's something good, because I won't hexing believe you, Father-"
Cedar shifts her position subtly, curling around the man's arm with an ear pressed against the sleeve of his jacket. "Can you tell me a story, Uncle Wick?"
"Sure." Uncle Wick sounds like he's smiling. Cedar is grateful for it, even though he must only be doing it to be brave, to keep her calm and distracted - maybe his voice will succeed where her foot failed, droning on and on until she can't hear anything else anymore. "Once upon a time, there was a very clever wooden girl-"
Cedar finds herself smiling back a bit, despite herself. She appreciates the effort, she really does, even if he's being silly. "That's not right. You always say the same thing."
"Yeah, 'cause all the stories I like to tell are true. Anyway, where was I- Once upon a time, there was a beautiful wooden girl, and she was the cleverest girl in all the realm..."
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thewildrescuersfanpage · 1 year ago
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So remember the runes on the ice spike? I don’t think they were meant to be translated, but I still translated them. but anyway, they translate to: wolves, before, from, elders, toward, go, lore, ancient, the, seek, who, set.
Not exactly in that order, BUT WHY WAS THAT HIDDEN FROM US.
(P.S, if you want to chat about this, please just reply to this ask on your public page, and we can chat in the reblogs or reply section. I don’t feel comfortable using private chat with people I don’t know on the internet)
How did I lose this in my inbox for so long???
thank you so much for the translation (and for being patient), this is very interesting new-old information. Where to begin? I think the "before" and "from" might refer to the tundra being the birthplace of Stacy's pack, originally, where they were from before. "Elders" and "wolves" are pretty self-explanatory. "Go"...to where, I wonder? Referring to Stacy's pack going to the taiga? To Stacy's parents plan on going to the mesa? The world may never know. "Lore" might just be author Stacy messing with us because we're finally getting the story's lore. "Ancient" is actually very, very intriguing. The oldest wolves we've seen so far are the taiga pack's parents (I think. correct me if I'm wrong. I really need to reread the series.) Does this go back further??? How long have these mysterious wolves been a part of the world??? "Seek"...hm...Seek out animals to rescue??? Seek out Ames, who went missing??? Maybe????? "Who" and "the" are just kinda. there. not sure what to make of that. And "set" could mean, like...a set of wolves? A set of runes?
I loved analyzing this so so much thank you thank you for the ask it genuinely made my day. Lesson learned, I'll be checking my inbox more frequently from now on T_T
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shadowdianne · 2 years ago
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Twenty questions for fic writers
(I guess I still am that xd let's see)
thank you for the tag love @waknatious
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
Uhhh, this one will always be tricky lol; not every fic I ever wrote is on a03 as I did a lot of posting here that I considered too short to be posted back in a03 -i bothered y'all enough whenever I posted the fic batches there with those fics that were longer than... I think my inner rule was 1k?- so even if in reality I think the total sum between my two pseuds is close to 500 and something some of the old fics got deleted when i cleaned up shop and then there are more that are somewhat lost in here. So, let's just say that I have a ton of those visible on a03 and there's a bunch more that are, as my name suggests, in the shadows :P
2. What's your total AO3 word count?
Again, tricky question xd But working with the numbers I currently can see and are visible for those that would want to check... 1,259,402 That doesn't sound right. heh *shrugs*
Edit: Ah, I think the reason why the number sounds weird is because the last time I did this question I still had like 15 or so I've ever since deleted. Plus some others so, again, the number is decieving.
3. What fandoms do you write for?
*Slight correction; wrote for* majority would be SQ as we know. Sprinkled with a little bit of SC, Shannara Chronicles, Rizzles... but the main ship and therefore fandom was SQ
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
I've decided to not look into those stats xD Sorry. Last time i got this ask I did it and it only reinforced the little burn out gnome of how I wasn't good enough; my works were read and I was requested prompts long enough to know I was somewhat liked on some obscure basis but I never had that much luck on the kudos department. I believe that the fics at the time I last checked were SC, maaaybe Sabrina (?) -the one vaguely smutty pertaining Madame Zelda was uploaded there I believe(????) so it might have been that one, and some other one that wasn't about the main ship I wrote for. (the 100 one maybe?)
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Back when I wrote and posted I did, yes. If at some point I missed a comment it might have been because I was swamped at the time with uni and work and I might have been far too focused on getting out the next prompt batch I was working on at the time but 99% of the time I responded to every single comment. I appreciate the feedback aspect of fandom, be that a reblog, share, comment or kudo or whatever other form and for those that commented, i hope you know that as much as I loved to tease you and generally torment you with my purple prose, i appreciated every second spent on leaving a comment.
6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
*snorts* I have a bunch. I don't remember all of them like I used to but I think that I liked the ones I did back when we were loving the concept of a Dark Swan and I kept on having both Emma and Regina battle each other in the middle of Storybrook. There are a couple in which I know I killed either Emma or Regina in a very fantastical way :P Oh, and then there's the one I did with... was it Emma? Dying at the hospital. One that was an answer to Del's prompt that I decided to focus on the whole concept of the hospital bed. I think that one, for a variety of reasons, is the angstiest in terms of how it was thought off and written.
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Uh. I honestly don't think I have a factual answer there; my fics were always written as sort of small windows into the worlds presented on them. As I never quite did long format fics there was never a real "true" ending there. Dunno, does anyone remember what would they consider a happy ending from me? xd
8. Do you get hate on fics?
I did. Back when I wrote I always had a couple of trolls floating around on my tumblr inbox. I also had a couple more on the comment section but the main place was always tumblr. I sometimes shared the asks but I tended to erase the majority of them as soon as I saw them. The reason behind those asks is unfathomable to me but.... anyway xd I think i've written enough posts about how i felt about those lol.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
*snorts, again* I tend to focus on teasing. Or, I did. I think I will always prefer the concept of leaving as much as possible of the actual sexual act to the mind of the reader and just put the... frame of it if you will. I'e written pwp tho, small snippets here and there -and words of desire, that series in where i solely wrote a smutty scene based on the words I got sent- I enjoy the process of writing something that is about feelings and how can those be explored and heightened based on the scenario and situation but I always prefered, again, to be a tease about it xd
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
The only fic I've written that I think would constitute as a crossover would be the Lara Croft and Wonder Woman one. It was mostly a joke but I had fun with it. However, whereas I don't mind reading crossovers I always tended to stay away from them (Not AUs based on some other IPs tho, that's different xd). The main logic behind it was that I'm, first and foremost, worldbuild based so if I wanted to create a logical explanation for x, y, or z that alone would eat up a lot of the story itself. And I prided myself on being able to write stories under 2k or less soooooo....
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Yup! But some minor ones in some of those sites that the whole thing was scrapped, comments and all and you got notified through fb groups xd Considering I've been MIA for so long I doubt anything has gotte since.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
I got asked a couple of times and gave my consent to one once but I think it never went anywhere,
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
I've collaborated with other fic writers ^^ (@stregaomega for example was and will always be the very fucking best) and it was awesome! But I tended to move more in the -I write one chapter and you do the next one and then I answer to that other one...- kind of scenario.
14. What's your all-time favorite ship?
SQ for writing I guess!
15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?
I wrote the end of almost all of the fics that I left unfinished by the time I went byebye on the whole thing but then my fantastic burn out considered the -even today I think is quite valid- angle on how "it's been long enough since I started them so no one will want to read those." I scrapped almost all of them. I think I'll always get slightly sad about not finishing a bunch of the AU's tho. The Ministry of Hidden Stories series for example! I always loved a good Steampunk. And that other one in which Regina was basically Queen Mab. The name is eluding me. Drat. Well, that one. I had like 80 or something pages on the continuation of that one. But, *points at the beginning of this* welp.
16. What are your writing strengths?
(Also, thanks W for the acknowledgment there lol; I always wanted for the description to feel 'real' <3) As I always said; I don't think I had any. But it's true that I always enjoyed much more the in-between as W has said in her own answer there xd The descriptive moments, the movement of the character, the way they are behaving and the words they are not saying. I always found that dialogue was... harder to keep OC or to the point enough to be engaging but focusing on what one is saying and what another one is understanding based on the way they perceive the world was way much more interesting. Which resulted in loooong descriptive paragraphs lol.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
*sighs* Dialogues.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
Uhm xd As someone that speaks more than two languages and has written stories in their mother tongue as well as a bunch on others.... I think I'm not entirely against doing it but I don't think it's that easy to convey a true relationship with being able to speak in more than one language. It's often used as a way of informing the reader -or in pwp bc, yknow, hot- but the linguistic side of my brain will always be at odds with that in some way xd I'm basically all for it but I think that there are ways in where it can be a little bit clunky; depending on how it's presented.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
I always doubt between Bellice (Bella and Alice from Twilight) and some lost Glee fic. And there were some from Sailor Moon and Card Captor Sakura... I think that the very first one you can find under my pseud is a Bellice one tho so let's stick with that.
20. Favorite fic you've written?
Not the best but I'll always pick Metallic Ink for that question. I really had fun with the worldbuilding there and will always hate that I run out of time to basically write more for it as it was a SuperNova fic.
--
It's far too late right now to do a proper tag so I'll leave this here and return tomorrow and tag anyone I find :P
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delilahprofitt · 9 months ago
Note
Sorry I'm basically blowing up your inbox today 👉👈
I know a few of the Mrod blogs on here were femslashy. Especially when she was dating Cara. If it wasn't about them, it was about Rain and Alice or Luz and Miss San Antonio. The het stuff definitely dominated though and it was definitely Vin's fault. Part of me is now morbidly curious about that poetry
Ahhh I have a rant locked and loaded for the majority of Mrod's movies. That outfit was terrible! I HATE when writers think motherhood has to completely soften and suck the personality out of character. It's always a blouse or a cardigan I swear to god. It's not a big surprise that female characters in a series about zooming cars around get the short end of the stick but that doesn't make it any less annoying. Elena having Dom's baby instead of Letty is one of the less stupid decisions imo. I'll have to skim back through F9 again to get my thoughts all back in order brb with that full rant. Fuck Hobbs and Shaw why can't we have a true Letty and Mia focused flick!!
Yeeessshh no worries. I was born the year Girlfight came out ✌️ Talk about Frank's cock all you want
That clothing line would be a problem for my wallet I'm not sure it could handle. The interviews were generally a little painful but I must have watched most of them anyway
The nice thing about the Resident Evil series is that most of the fandom now is femslash because Alice has homoerotic tension with at least one character in every movie. There's a part in the third film where she blatantly checks out Claire Redfield's ass when she walks away and she runs across a room to pet Rain's hair to comfort her in the first one. Quality cinema
don't you dare apologize!! i'm hanging on the telephone. i never realized how much tumblr asks could resemble my preferred method of communication (long rambling emails) and i've had a hard time getting people irl to do that instead of just texting me :/
the mrod poems were written by "bryan s. coe" (who i just googled and discovered is perhaps a digital marketing strategist in detroit these days). the two i still have links to are titled "poem to a hottie on a zip line" and "euphemistic poem to a woman with sub-machine gun" and are about nikki from breed and chris from s.w.a.t. respectively. i feel this stanza from the second one needs to be shared:
while everyone takes cover and protects their body i spy around the corner and see a special weapons hottie those sure are some special "weapons," wouldn't you say kind of appropriate that s.w.a.t. ends with a t and an a!
and it goes on in that vein. extensively. i mean, come on, dude. the meter is all off!! you need to cut "and see" from the second line and "that" from the fourth. also that is a very liberal definition of "euphemistic"
i like the idea of just generally defining time in mrod movies. *guy living in a dystopian future where that's all that remains of our civilization voice* "yeah my great great grandmother was born the year girlfight came out"
personally i thought i got blue crush but that's 2002 :/
i agree that they were right not to knock letty up. the only tragic part is i think she's probably too old to play pregnant now and i would have liked to see that just as fuel for some letty/mia fantasies :(( i can't even imagine what they would have dressed her in. considering you would think mia's 75% sundress wardrobe would be pretty transferable to maternity clothes and they still put her in that ruffled yellow abomination
i kind of wish it hadn't even been dom's kid though. like wouldn't that have been more in keeping with the family-goes-beyond-blood thing? dom could have still done all that crazy crap to rescue elena and her baby. i also hate elena dying. i really did not like fate of the furious in general and it didn't have mia so what was the point anyway. i kind of recognize that objectively f9 might have been the nadir of the franchise but it gave us letty and mia's tokyo dinner date so i'll always love it
also mia going in for the hug just grinning like hey! letty! it's great to see you! and then it cuts to letty, like, closing her eyes and huffing the scent of her hair. baby this is why in my head you've been hung up on her for decades
they need to do a mia & letty spinoff and i feel like there's no way it's actually going to happen. vin's too much of an egotist he would shove himself in there to present himself as the king of feminism or something and then the movie would just be his big dumb head like always. i'm holding out hope they'll kill him in the last movie for pathos but it's probably in his contract that they aren't allowed to
last note on f9 is that i love how after all that backpatting for finally having the gals share a scene it STILL doesn't pass the bechdel test because they exclusively talk about han, brian, jacob, dom, and little brian in that order. i do like when mia says "you'll always be my sister." i hope letty got off to that furiously and guiltily in the shower and then cried
don't even get me started on how the franchise butchers mia. my whole ao3 presence is basically a 750,000-word manifesto on how badly i think they screwed her over. i'm not even asking for that much but just let her be a fucking doctor you'd think with eleven million bucks she could afford to go to med school
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punkscowardschampions · 10 months ago
Text
Taylor Boys & Neneh
Harley: I’ve gone to write this message so many times and in loads of different ways but there’s no way I’ve found that makes it sound less like a crap joke or scam
Harley: but it’s neither and I’m not after nothing but a chance and yous hearing me out
Harley: So, here goes… before you left, Ian was seeing my mum, which I know isn’t ideal but it’s the truth of the matter and well, they had me
Casey: You’re in the wrong inbox, mate, but all of us get why you are, his’d be less than ideal as I bet you’ve heard
Harley: I was gonna check if I had the right details for him, the phone number my mum hads long dead and he hasn’t responded on [if not facebook the equivalent but it probably still is] but maybe he don’t check it no more
Casey: he lives [wherever he does, which was giving 30 minutes each way ish from Dublin we said once] with his new missus and her kids
Casey: I’d give him a call on [the number] before you brave just turning up, like
Harley: Oh, thanks
Harley: yeah, I look a bit different from when he last saw us, would be a bit of a shock
Bobby: How old are you?
Harley: 18
Bobby: Isn’t ideals an understatement 
Casey: when’d he last bother with you?
Harley: Sorry? 
Harley: well, he stopped seeing us when the incident happened but once the trial was handled, he did make some time then, when he had some
Casey: sounds about right
Bobby: The incident has a name, it’s right there
Casey: leave it out, he don’t know how to word it, does he
Casey: why would the lad, nowt to do with him or his mum
Bobby: Oh right, I’ll be gracious about learning I don’t need to be here never mind maimed, where are my manners
Bobby: and who is his mum that she couldn’t tempt him away enough to stop bothering with Deborah?
Casey: stop being a dickhead a sec, he might tell us
Harley: It weren’t no fling, they were in a proper relationship, I knew he was my dad, called him it
Casey: go on, which local were hers an’ all
Casey: [namedrop some pubs you know your dad went in cos you know who he is]
Harley: She was working in [one of these pubs, oh the shame]
Bobby: ‘Cos he were properly married and properly prolific, see, you could be one of many, whatever bollocks you’ve been sold on
Casey: ‘course she’s a barmaid
Bobby: Maybe she’s your mum too, DNA tests all ‘round
Harley: Was, she ain’t no more
Harley: and I get that you’re upset at all this but don’t take the piss, yeah
Casey: our dad’s the pisstake, no need to start on you
Harley: I totally get why staying in Manchester weren’t an option, I’m not looking to blame him or start no rows
Casey: he’ll be gutted, loves a row, Ian
Casey: but he fancies a fresh go of things as much now, reckon you’ll be well in
Bobby: You can clue us in why we had to move then, never made much sense
Bobby: what do you say, Jim?
Jimmy: I dunno what to
Casey: surprise surprise
Bobby: At least that’s honest
Bobby: you’re pretending to be nice when you’ll be punching a wall in a mo
Harley: Trust me, I had as little clue knowing what to say so I get it
Jimmy: He were alright with you calling him dad, I don’t need no more clues chucked at us, says it all, that
Harley: He is my dad too, whatever else did or didn’t happen, that’s never been disputed
Bobby: Did he smack you and your mum an’ all?
Jimmy: Steady on, you can’t just ask people if they’ve been a punching bag
Bobby: Yes I can, I want to know how good he’s had it
Bobby: your mum presumably isn’t in prison for the same so you’re already one up there, congrats
Harley: I’m sorry, for what yours did to you
Casey: ignore our kid, everything’s a bloody competition with him
Casey: gotta come top in the misery olympics 
Bobby: Says 🥈 his whole life
Bobby: you can’t want the competition, 🥉 ain’t any easier
Casey: your whole life he never even touched you, piss off
Casey: you heard the lad, dad did one when he were a baby, he wouldn’t remember if his mum got a smack, unless she’s wearing hers like a badge of honour still when she chats on about the glory days
Harley: Do you mean proper smacks?
Bobby: Yeah I mean he’d try and hospitalise Jim
Jimmy: Don’t
Bobby: It’s the truth
Bobby: however thick this lad is, you can’t seriously think sending him Ian’s way is a favour
Jimmy: I’m not sending him nowhere
Bobby: Case is
Casey: he asked us for the info, he’s got a right to it
Harley: That isn’t how he was with us, never
Harley: and I was about 9 the last time I saw him so I do remember
Casey: he don’t lay a finger on her kids neither, turned over a right new leaf by all accounts
Bobby: We were just bad kids all along
Bobby: shit wife and mother doesn’t need any more illustrating, everyone knows that much
Casey: we get it, you’re dying for a proper smack
Casey: shut the fuck up, Bob
Jimmy: Both of you stop, you’re doing my head in
Jimmy: even more than this, somehow
Bobby: I’m not the one that loves it, or them
Harley: I didn’t reckon on it going this way, I’m sorry
Casey: it ain’t your fault 
Casey: better luck next time, you’re old enough to take down his new local, something to count in your favour
Harley: Do any of you still live at home?
Jimmy: Bobby lives with me
Harley: I really weren’t trying to stir all this up
Harley: I’ll leave you all to it and try my luck with Ian instead, thanks for the updated info
Jimmy: 🤞 for his new leaf, but you’ve been warned now, either way
Harley: Maybe it is different, not to sound like a dick but there’s obviously less bad blood
Bobby: 😂 way to not sound like a dick
Casey: there was I thinking I were dad’s fave
Harley: I didn’t mean that it’s just, the situation, that was a lot for him 
Harley: Too much water under the bridge or something
Casey: your mum’s not Debbie downer 🏆
Bobby: Is your sister his or what
Jimmy: Hang on, what sister?
Harley: I’ve a sister but she’s not got the same dad 
Harley: she was from the time he was away
Bobby: Romantic that
Casey: should’ve known, he’s too massive of a dedicated sexist to father a girl
Harley: ‘Spose I can let her know she can be relieved 
Casey: bullet dodged
Bobby: To say the least
Casey: be chuffed if you said less, all of us
Bobby: Surprise surprise
Casey: you who was on about shit being true to life
Bobby: You can play happy families with your new brother, hardly a wonder you’re chuffed
Casey: he’d struggle to hold his breath for your offer of the spare room to come about
Bobby: 🤞 you’ve no missus yourself, Harley
Casey: least you’re winning as far as being an unwelcoming twat, Bob
Casey: well done, can pile on the misery when you’ve got none of your own to cry over
Bobby: You’re joking, surely
Bobby: what would be the point, even if he was welcome
Bobby: this means nothing, he’s the result of some sad affair that he’s long since washed his hands of, end of discussion
Casey: you’ve made yours so you reckon it’s end of discussion, more like
Bobby: Come on, there’s hundreds of ‘em out there, you know it as well as us and he should be told
Casey: he’s the first to come knocking and you’re trying to scare him off like a little kid telling stories with a torch to your face, grow up
Bobby: There’s no need to be dramatic, he’s heard and he was rightly horrified 
Bobby: you grow up holding onto it being anything else
Casey: weren’t your story to tell, never mind fucking revel in
Casey: even Jim’s told you to shut it with his few words
Bobby: And you said he’s a right to it
Bobby: that means the truth, not some fucking fairytale
Casey: there’s ways to go about it instead of just opening your mouth before any other sod can get a word in, lad might’ve had his own questions but he ain’t gonna ask none of ‘em no more, is he
Bobby: Yeah, you fucked it up with us so you want another go too, we get it
Bobby: floors all yours, ain’t it
Casey: you get nothing about us, never fancied having a go to
Bobby: How dramatic
Casey: nah, some more of your truth you’re obsessed with
Bobby: You’ve got no interest in being truthful, not something you need to say when you’ve shown it so well
Casey: I dunno how you can say or reckon that when I were the only dickhead ‘round here not living in denial but alright, have it your way
Casey: still the spoilt youngest, just
Bobby: Spoilt is about right
Bobby: you’ll never get over not being the favourite though
Casey: I’m big enough to be over all sorts now, tah
Harley: You said he had a new family…?
Jimmy: [give him the deets of this woman and her daughters matter of factly, what you know about her, how many daughters there are, how old they are, how long he’s been living with them all etc]
Harley: I see, do you have much to do with them or?
Harley: Maybe that’s a dumb question at this point, I don’t know
Casey: She don’t make the effort and he’s playing at being under the thumb this time, been shown the door more times than I can count, but maybe you’ll get a foot in as a new face
Harley: Gotcha
Harley: not quite evil stepmum but on the way to
Casey: she’d have her fairytale and hold on tight to it at our expense, prince among men though he ain’t 
Harley: I can’t believe he’d be like that
Harley: I mean, I do believe you but it’s nothing like what I remember or my mum does
Casey: could be charming when he wanted
Harley: Some things are unforgivable, even the once
Casey: you and your mum didn’t get his bastard side, whatever the reason
Harley: Yeah
Harley: maybe it’s easier to be nice to your weekend family
Casey: maybe [his new missus]’ll be dead keen you stay to ask you for tips, I’ve had my doubts ages he’s proper changed
Harley: You think?
Casey: nobody happy drinks that hard and I don’t flatter myself it’s guilt from our childhoods
Harley: [throw out whatever his favourite drink is because of course you would know that too] are an easy pour
Casey: you’ll be shocked by the state of him, if you do put yourself on his doorstep
Harley: Maybe I need to talk to my mum again before doing that
Casey: I would
Harley: Her stories never changed but it isn’t adding up fully now so, worth a try
Casey: she don’t have the full picture, part-timer he was
Harley: He should’ve been at yours more than he was at ours but I know, it still weren’t all day every day, ever
Jimmy: No point in shoulds, if we went there we’d never get off the subject
Harley: True enough but still I don’t know where else to focus on
Jimmy: Talk to your mum
Harley: Yeah, I will
Casey: and dad, for what that’s worth
Harley: I’ll try to reach out again
Harley: [Private at Neneh]
Harley: I’ve talked to them, the boys
Neneh: Oh shit
Harley: They weren’t angry
Harley: well Bobby was but he’s only your age so that’s to be expected
Harley: it was nothing like I thought it’d be though
Neneh: Nothing like mum said it’d be
Neneh: I’ve said to you millions of times she’s on another planet 🛸
Harley: Yeah but you’d have it it’s all made up when I remember how it were meself
Harley: but he was different with them, sounds of it, bad different
Neneh: You remember the how she’s put in your head with her stories and the him 
Neneh: what else would she tell you? I fucked up, no way
Harley: Don’t start, it’s enough taking what they’ve said on board without your everything is bullshit attitude
Neneh: Sorry but she’s done wrong getting your hopes up for years
Harley: How?
Harley: I got to speak to them, and got more info than she had for him, it’s not all bad
Neneh: Enough of it is, you this sec said that yourself
Harley: Yeah, for them
Harley: Bobby doesn’t even live with him rn
Neneh: For you too then, genius, he’s your unfit to live with dad too, Kio
Harley: I’m not trying to live with him am I
Neneh: You weren’t planning to take a trip? Pull the other one
Harley: Not the same thing that
Neneh: I’ll unpack your bag as she packs it, you’re not going
Harley: Calm down, I haven’t been invited yet
Harley: I’ve only talked to them, not him
Neneh: I weren’t born last week, I know what she wants the ending to be
Harley: Of course she does, she’s still crazy about him
Harley: but he’s got a new missus, family of hers that comes with, it’s not on the table
Neneh: Crazy, yeah
Neneh: he had a missus before, family of his
Neneh: didn’t ever stop her leaning over his table in a lowcut top
Harley: A missus who did that to their baby, you know that
Harley: they were hardly happy
Neneh: She didn’t know, not when she first went for it
Neneh: questions weren’t asked, she fancied him, goes no deeper than that
Harley: Neither of us were there when they first met, you don’t know what they did or didn’t talk about
Neneh: I can guess, every regular like him calls their missus a psycho when they’re venting about home
Harley: In this case, she certainly proved to be one
Neneh: Just this once, she got something right
Harley: You’re too harsh on her
Neneh: The shared madness thing has got the French for 2 in it, not 3
Harley: She’s not mad, now you sound like a harsh husband
Neneh: She’s not sane, encouraging you and this
Harley: You’re against it but why
Harley: it doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere
Neneh: I don’t buy Ian as a henpecked man
Neneh: crazy attracts crazy, maybe you can have mum as a bit less but his missus, no chance
Harley: That’s low
Harley: obviously he couldn’t predict what the fuck she was gonna do or he’d have stopped it 
Neneh: He was with her for years, 3 boys, I don’t reckon he were clueless about what sort of mum she were, all I’m saying
Neneh: he stayed
Harley: Okay but he were the last baby, after me 
Harley: happened to none of the others, far as the criminal record is showing
Neneh: Maybe she snapped, but there’d be other signs
Harley: He’d not be looking elsewhere if it was perfect, of course
Neneh: He’s a love rat, he can’t be perfect
Harley: She’s never said he is, just that she loved him
Neneh: She’s never said why him, not really
Harley: There’s not a why, it just happens
Neneh: Him keeping his distance half the time makes it less real, she could make it into whatever she wanted
Harley: What would be the point though?
Harley: And he came back, it wasn’t a one time thing, before they left but after everything went down, he didn’t have to
Neneh: The lowcut tops again
Neneh: she’s better looking than any of my mates mums by loads
Harley: You make her sound like an absolute slag
Neneh: It was her job to dress up and flirt a bit, she weren’t meant to fall in love with one of them
Harley: She’s allowed to be in love, it isn’t a crime
Neneh: With someone who loves her back
Harley: She just needs closure, which she’ll get if I can talk to him and get to know him properly again
Neneh: She’ll fall for him again, she never fell out
Harley: Is that such a bad thing, IF it happens?
Neneh: I’m not leaving my mates to move to a different country
Neneh: for her to play at being [however old she was] again
Harley: Right, calm down
Harley: nothing has happened, I’VE not even got in contact with him yet
Neneh: If we’re living in fantasyland, what happens when my dad comes looking for us and we’re not there, eh?
Harley: We’d not be going into witness protection
Neneh: When does his ex get out of prison? We probably should be
Harley: She doesn’t pick on people her own size
Neneh: Why don’t Bobby live with him?
Harley: It was pretty awkward, I couldn’t ask them much
Harley: but it sounds like his new lady wants the focus on her and her kids
Harley: but Jimmy is [however old ‘cos I’m not 100%] so he lives with him
Neneh: They must have a joint [facebook or the equivalent he tried to get in touch on] and she’s blocked you for being the spit of Ian and Casey
Harley: That’s a thought
Harley: Casey was the most willing to talk to me
Neneh: Makes sense, Jimmy’s too adult and Bobby’s too much of a kid
Harley: Says you, even more of one
Neneh: Yeah, I know what lads my age are like
Harley: Dead immature unlike you lasses, is it
Neneh: Dead right
Harley: He doesn’t seem immature
Harley: just dead angry, understandably
Neneh: He would’ve had to grow up faster than most after what happened, I spose
Harley: No kidding
Neneh: I’d be angry all the time if I were him
Harley: He is
Harley: I didn’t have anything to say to it
Neneh: I am a bit harsh to mum, I’ll sleep in her bed tonight or something, I know she misses when we both used to
Harley: She’ll like that
Harley: I’m going to wait for him to reply, before I tell her anything, okay
Neneh: Okay, I’ll keep my mouth shut
Neneh: but you’ll tell me?
Harley: I told you this, didn’t I?
Neneh: And you won’t go?
Harley: Not without telling you when I am and when I’ll be back
Neneh: We’d kill each other without you as ref, you’re needed
Harley: I’d not leave either of you behind
Neneh: You can’t, I don’t have 3 spare brothers waiting about
Harley: I’m sorry
Harley: but I’m sure they’ll want to know you too, they already asked about you
Neneh: Kept that bit quiet
Harley: ‘Course I shoulda led with that…
Neneh: Who we kidding? I could have 33 spare brothers for all we know
Neneh: all I’ve got’s a name, not even first and last
Harley: I know
Harley: maybe she’ll remember more, or we can look again proper, not like when we was kids
Neneh: And maybe she didn’t hear his name proper over the music
Neneh: I might not even have that much to go on, why I make her sound like a slag, if I do
Harley: It was a bad time
Neneh: We don’t look related how you do to them, who the fuck is he?
Harley: We don’t look that different, there’s similarities 
Neneh: Like what?
Harley: Our noses, lips
Neneh: 🤥 yours is growing rn
Harley: Is not!
Harley: It’s not like you’re blonde and blue-eyed
Neneh: I wanna take after mum more though, instead of some random stranger I’ll never meet
Harley: Of course
Harley: She’s beautiful and so are you, whoever your dad is or isn’t
Neneh: Calm down yourself
Harley: Yeah yeah, sharrup yourself
Neneh: What will you say to Ian?
Harley: Wish I had a clue
Harley: got to start somewhere but after the initial message, sort of fall apart
Neneh: Did they give an updated number? You could ring him and say ‘Hey, it’s me, Harley’ see what HE says
Harley: I’ve not the bottle for that
Neneh: I’d offer but he won’t remember me
Harley: He would but it’s not the foot I wanna get off on
Neneh: [one of their mum’s pub peeps who is giving a fake granddad kinda vibe to these kids once] would tell you you’re old enough to find the bottle in a bottle now, but he weren’t ever sober a day 🍻
Harley: I’m not sure he’s the father figure you need, no
Neneh: I don’t need one, none of my mates but [1 or 2 we’re naming]’ve got dads
Neneh: I’ve got you and mum
Neneh: AND we’ve got the same 👃👄
Harley: Not special for the sob story, that’s a fact
Harley: You could do worse
Neneh: Be thankful it’s their dad you share not their mum
Harley: I am
Harley: even if there was better on offer, I’d not change her for anyone
Neneh: Nor would I, not really
Neneh: only the tiniest bit
Harley: For [a friend’s mum we’re saying she thinks slays]?
Neneh: She’d be less mint if I had to live with her, probably
Harley: Think that’s how it goes
Neneh: How’d you leave it with the boys?
Harley: They said I should speak to mum, try to speak to him too
Harley: only so much they could say and they seemed like they were all in a fight with each other so
Neneh: There’s loads they could say, you’re their brother
Harley: Easy to say as you
Neneh: Even if they don’t get on, don’t happen every day, this
Neneh: they could drop it with doing each other’s heads in for a bit, I’d not say it’s much to ask
Harley: I weren’t waiting on a fanfare, nor no one to drop anything but it was a bit awkward
Neneh: I’ve 10001 questions to ask my dad and his kids and I know I’ll never meet them
Neneh: what’d they ask you?
Harley: Umm
Harley: when he last saw me, if he hit us
Neneh: If he hit you? Have I just read that proper
Harley: He did, the older ones
Harley: not Bobby
Neneh: How snide’s he? I don’t know that you should talk to him
Neneh: nah, Kio, he sounds well bad
Harley: He never me or mum, back then
Harley: and this is now
Neneh: How’d you know you don’t remember and she don’t wanna?
Harley: ‘Cos I would
Neneh: You were only young, and your brain can play tricks on you with dead sad stuff
Harley: It doesn’t sound like the sort of thing you’d forget in a hurry
Neneh: What if he hit her when you were asleep?
Harley: He didn’t
Neneh: She’d keep her mouth shut about it, you know that
Harley: Stop trying to spoil things
Harley: he didn’t, because he was happy with us
Neneh: I’m not, he left us to hit his kids
Harley: What happened didn’t just happen, obviously it was a bad situation, lots of pressure
Neneh: What are you making excuses for?
Neneh: you owe the man nowt at all
Harley: I’m not, you’re jumping to mad conclusions
Neneh: How am I? They asked if he hit you, ffs
Harley: You don’t believe us when I say he didn’t
Neneh: If he was so happy, why weren’t they his weekend family?
Harley: They were married, you can’t just go
Harley: especially when she was the type of mother that she was
Neneh: He went when he fancied seeing mum, didn’t care what type his missus were then
Neneh: if he wanted, they could’ve split, she’d have taken the boys on
Harley: I’m sure his psycho missus would’ve taken that in her stride, yeah
Neneh: What about when she got locked up?
Harley: He did come back
Harley: but then he had to go, for their sake, the boys
Neneh: Mum’d follow him anywhere, he didn’t ask
Harley: It wouldn’t look very good
Neneh: He weren’t arsed no more, some love story
Harley: You don’t know, you were a kid
Neneh: And you, last you saw of him
Harley: Yeah but you were tiny, I’ve memories
Harley: it was an affair, people would say it was his fault for being distracted by us
Neneh: Not if all of us moved where no people knew us
Harley: He probably didn’t want to spring anything else on the boys, which is fair enough
Neneh: She’d wait, she still is
Harley: And maybe it will happen now
Neneh: You think?
Harley: It could
Harley: I don’t know how he feels, know enough about him and his life now to say for sure
Neneh: Who’s the missus he’s with now? Did they say owt about her?
Harley: Just that she doesn’t like them around
Harley: and she’s [however many daughters we said she has]
Neneh: [look her up and add your own sassy comments because clearly he found Ian online and therefore you could find her via him and her kids, I’m sure they all have more of an online presence than that man]
Harley: Would you want that many sisters?
Neneh: I’m good
Neneh: they’re all too blonde and blue eyed
Harley: He’s a type
Neneh: He’ll still fancy mum, would you want him to?
Harley: Sounds weird put like that
Harley: but it’d make her happy, so yeah
Neneh: And you, you want a dad or you’d not be doing this
Harley: Different type of fancying 
Neneh: You know what I mean, don’t be awkward
Harley: He is my dad, I want to know him
Neneh: But where am I? He’s not my dad
Harley: He’d be your step-dad if they got back together
Harley: but you’re still her daughter and my sister
Neneh: He hits his own kids, what chance have I got
Harley: You aren’t giving it a chance
Neneh: I’m sorry I’m the only one happy as I am
Harley: It’s not things being wrong it’s that they could be different and better
Neneh: Better in [wherever Ian lives]
Neneh: it’s [however far from manchester]
Harley: None of us know where it’s going yet
Neneh: We do, what she’s like
Neneh: and his type
Harley: If you say anything but blonde and blue-eyed right now…
Neneh: I’m not saying a word
Harley: Makes a change
Neneh: Don’t start, I’m allowed my opinion and you’ve asked
Harley: I’m only joking, calm down
Neneh: 🤡
Harley: Suit the shoes, I reckon
Neneh: Bit funny
Harley: Have you had your strop then?
Harley: Good stuff
Neneh: Not spoke to your dad but still managing to channel him, he’ll be well proud
Harley: Oh, leave off
Neneh: You leave off, I’m older than when he walked out, I don’t have strops
Harley: Okay, okay
Harley: I don’t know what to say to him, to get him to reply
Neneh: You can’t force him 
Neneh: no more than I can do mum to remember details about my dad
Neneh: say you miss him, wanna know him
Harley: Yeah
Harley: you’re right, it’s just so… weird
Neneh: It’s been years, it’ll be weird
Harley: Will he remember me?
Neneh: Would you forget us if I’d gone?
Neneh: he’s your dad, he’ll remember
Harley: You’re not easy to forget about
Neneh: What and you are?
Neneh: nah
Harley: Cheers, sis
Harley: might be the nicest thing you’ve said
Neneh: You make us sound like an absolute bitch
Harley: I’m not meaning to, honestly
Neneh: I’m not meaning to be
Neneh: but I know I have, a bit
Harley: You’re just concerned
Neneh: I don’t fancy spoiling it
Harley: You haven’t, we’re all good
Neneh: Be all good with Ian when you’ve found the words, honestly
Harley: Thanks, yeah
Neneh: And if it did go wrong, I’ll leave off with my I told you so
Harley: Oh, really?
Neneh: Yeah, really 😇
Harley: Oh yeah, believe that when I see it
Neneh: I can’t believe you’re doubting us
Harley: You could be worse, sure 
Harley: [mention her friends that you’re saying would be worse sisters]
Neneh: You reckon [friends he hasn’t mentioned] would be better?
Harley: What do you reckon
Neneh: I’m the best sister in the world
Harley: There we are then 🤷
Harley: and I don’t want to hear what you reckon about any of my friends, before you start
Neneh: [do affectionately roast his friends though because gotta be done even though I imagine you like them cos you’re giving close sibs]
Harley: Yeah, I’d much rather that than you fancying any of those idiots so right answer
Neneh: What was [someone who’s giving a girl he fancies/girlfriend (whether that’s current or v recent ex she doesn’t know is an ex) depending what you want the vibe to be]’s answer to your tracking down your dad? You never said 
Harley: She’s heard mum talk all about him, dead chuffed for me, obviously
Neneh: Obviously, everyone’s chuffed for you
Harley: Nothing to be chuffed about yet
Harley: well, not nothing, I did get to talk to them briefly, I suppose
Neneh: They didn’t tell you to piss right off, could’ve done
Neneh: but nah, you got replies and contact details
Harley: Even Bobby didn’t say those words exactly
Neneh: There we are then
Harley: I’ll see you at home
Neneh: Yep, in or out of mum’s bed depending how you time it 😴
Harley: Be quiet when I’m in, just in case
Neneh: You and [this girl because gotta lovingly take the piss always]
Harley: 🙄😏
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misqnon · 1 year ago
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nhello monti! it is March Again :v i feel like it's super obvious who i am so thank u for humoring me and using the name i gave u LOL.
my bad, ive never really celebrated april fools so i forgot it.. was... that day. im also glad u checked ur inbox. also theres no pressure to reply in a certain time frame!! i see ur posts that u have seen my asks and thats enough to put me at ease. so . take ur time!
fellow zoro fan!!!! i have a hard time choosing a favorite straw hat tbh.. they r all so special to me. i do probably like brook and franky just slightly more though. old men my beloved (tbh franky isnt that old but hes old compared to the younger members so). wano is the arc of buff men!! as a man liker... it pleases me.
the edit u sent Is So Good. thank u for sharing. i keep seeing sanji tiktoks and wanting to send them to u but i dont wanna spam ur inbox </3 my messages r already So Long..
ive listened to a bit of the dub (through clips) and tbh i do like it!! i like brook's voice acting a lot (hes who ive heard the most of. also he nails the laugh, which is very important to me) but luffys voice is so jarring to me i just cannot.. get past it. i think im just too used to the sub luffy after . a decade . of hearing him sound like that. plus i usually have to use subtitles anyways cuz i have an audio processing disorder so. sub is just what i default to. but yeah definitely valid to watch dub instead!! they do a great job from what ive seen :)
i have seen a bit of extra content involving the live action cast and tbh usopps actor.. is my favorite. he nails usopp. hes real life usopp. and i love usopp a lot so,,. tbh i might just pirate it (ahaha.... pirate.... pirate.... pirate the pirate show .......) because i really want to watch it!!
YEAH u have plenty of time!! plus i imagine there will be a part of the story where they go back and visit places they said they would return to (like u mentioned laboon). so 2 more islands plus however long it takes to revisit everything! no need to stress
stay strong 🫡 egghead will be so much better going in blind!
catholic guilt about liking sanji is ... i get it. thats funny /lh. i also feel intense guilt for the weirdest and simplest of things LMAO. im glad i didnt make u feel bad about it!!
YEAHH FELLOW DOFFY LOVER!! ive seen a few videos by melonteee and theyre super good. i would watch more but.. ironically (considering i got 800 episodes through one piece..) i cant watch a lot of longform content because i space out so bad. it takes a lot of effort for me to give my full attention and it gets pretty exhausting so i dont do it often. ur art of him is lovely!!! tongue piercings..... 😳.
i got to like .. stardust crusaders. in jjba. and i imagine i just havent seen enough of dio to feel attached to him like i do doffy, but i have seen a few people say they feel the same!!! ive kinda been wanting to go back to it but i just hate old man joseph joestar with such a passion.... i get too angry when hes on screen LOL. its way worse than how i feel abt sanji bc i dont simmer with intense RAGE every time sanji's on screen and i have a lot more positive feelings towards him. that was a bit of a tangent, whoops.
thabk u for validating my sanji hatred. actually i have come to enjoy a lot of sanji content recently though, and i dont think i hate him as much?? as i did?? i will credit this to u. idk if me just talking about it with another human being helped or if its because i see how much u love him but. i think this is good for me!! less rage .. is always good for me. watch me go back to hating him with a passion again now that ive said im fond of him. because im That Inconsistent 😭😭 (i hope this doesnt happen)
it was only super recently where i realized its not inherently a bad thing to like problematic media. to be fair tho there are definitely a lot more problematic fans when u enjoy problematic media, and i see it with one piece a lot. there is a WEIRD amount of transphobes in this community and i cant help but feel like part of that is because of oda's writing spreading some common transphobic ideas. i think hes redeemed himself a lot with the most recent trans characters, and i adore them, but the damage.. is done. but yeah im sure another big part of why theres so much negativity is just because one piece is insanely popular. the bigger the fandom, the bigger the shitty part of it is.
THEY *HAVE* EARNED THE RIGHT TO BE REAL PEOPLE.. UR SO RIGHT. i love that u can see their morals so clearly in like. every action . or inaction. they take. ughh. people talk about luffy falling asleep during people's backstory and say hes rude for it. and its like!! thats a core part of his character!!! he doesn't care about what happened in the past!! he just cares about how you are NOW. tbh though i WOULD be offended if he fell asleep while i was traumadumping LOL. like as a character decision its genius, but as a person .. i am too sensitive for that. BUT IT SHOWS HIS CHARACTER SO WELL!!
IM SO GLAD U NOTICED AUJFH. that moment is so special. u ARE my favorite sanji lover!! my favorite character?? honestly its law... hes so stupid (/pos)... but like.. its hidden behind a very serious mask. i just love people who are extremely silly. and someone who hides their silliness with all their might (and fails) makes them more silly. some of my favorite law moments are in wano and i Really .. ugh. i wish i could tell u but i refuse to spoil even the most minor of things!! so i will wait till u get there. also his backstory just Kills me. it . it hurts. i love tragic characters. looks at choso from jjk. i have a type .
law may be my ultra favorite but i have .. at least 30 different Favorites. including the straw hats. and tbh everyones at about the same level.. in terms of how much i love them. i think its safe to say i adore one piece characters. its because everyone is silly!!! i can list all the ones im aware of (since there r so many op characters.. i have. a list . but i keep adding to it.) if ur curious LOL. if not, no worries :)
YEAHHH ZOROOO MY LOVE!! thank u for The Food. yum. his one eye is very pretty in ur style 🥺. i havent tried to draw him yet tbh but i understand the struggle!! i tried drawing choso a while ago and his hair is so insanely painful.. art is hard.
hello march!!
is. is it super obvious
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i have a guess but i wasn’t feeling super confident about it or anything JSAHBZJVHFD
More below ↓
i actually had like no idea until i received a reply earlier and now im wondering if ur possibly a recent mutual of mine 🔍🧐 maybe starting…with @ a….but i will not make u answer if u dont wanna HAHAHA
i will humor u as long as u want 👍
good to know there’s no pressure!! as soon as i get a message i like to reply as soon as i can but thats bc i get excited lmao. however this does make me feel more at peace
YEAA FELLOW ZORO FAN!! originally my favs were just the top 3 of 1. sanji 2. robin and 3. franky but as we got past water 7 and franky didnt get much more development spotlight he fell a bit just bc i dont get to see him doing much :( still love him though. bc of Shipping Reasons (embarrassing) Zoro got on my radar more and i started to appreciate him as a character more and more. plus he’s just. really badass im ngl. and in addition to that he is. so fucking stupid and uncool and goofy at the same time and that just makes him more likable. so now i just have a quartet of favs cause zoro wormed his way in there somewhere and i hold him dear to my heart. (plus im so bad with directions it is QUITE LITERALLY almost as bad as zoro and so i. genuinely relate to him on that LMAO) but i agree !! i LOVE ALL THE STRAWHATS VERY MUCH. I CANT EVEN CHOOSE A LEAST FAVORITE BC I LOVE ALL OF THEM A LOT. also god yes we fucking love an old guy in this household. and i LOOOVE FUURANKIIIII my silly king!! franky is fairly young but early on in the story when its just a bunch of teenagers and 20 somethings and then 34 year old franky is there its. kinda funny and i love that for him. also speaking of old men i called dofuwani old man yaoi once and someone called me out saying 41 and 46 was not old enough 😔 /ashamed. sorry yall lemme pull out some slash of rayleigh and crocus real quick-
aside from the strawhats my other favs are doffy, crocodile, corazon…god there’s so many characters now that i think about it lmao. secondarily i also like bartolomeo, kizaru, kid, bon clay…i have huge crush on katakuri even tho i havent met him yet…im sure there will be more as i continue and meet more
omg im so flattered u consider sending me sanji tiktoks sjnkjcnd!??! someday. someday u have to do this for me. i will send u more funny edits and op posts
BROOK’S DUB VOICE IS GOD TEIR. ARE U TALKING ABOUT/ HAVE YOU SEEN THIS VIDEO. IAN SINCLAIR IS AMAZING LAMNDKJFN
i got used to luffys dub voice bc i watched it first but ive always been meh/neutral dislike towards it and once i heard mayumi tanaka in sub i was like damn. its the only voice i dont like but hes the Main Character. his sub voice also makes me like luffy more as a character mvkjdnvf dub just makes him sound more like a selfish weird boy instead of a silly selfish little guy. you feel me (and no i feel u even with dub i have captions on bc. yeah </3)
taz inaki and jacob are a trio of mischievousness and silliness that i adore. emily is also fun and goofy but on a more ~ refined ~ scale. and mackenyu is so professional to them all in comparison but it makes it hilarious tbh. i follow all of the main 5 on instagram and love seeing them post about it. the recent april fools video starring jacob (usopp) was. hilarious. like what is
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(and yes…pirate it….do it….yohohoho or whatever nami would be proud)
i am so ready for wano and egghead i will stay strong for u march 🫡 must avoid spoilers…and still take my time to enjoy the story..
i understand not being able to do longform content lmao. i did watch their 3 hr stream comp of one piece odyssey but like…i had it on in the bg while doing other things. im glad uve seen their stuff tho!! its one of my fav one piece content channels. im glad u liked my doffy 🥹i embellished a Little bit but his piercings are actually from this colorspread !!
i was insane and in highschool when i was into jjba. a lot of it was also during the summers and i had a lot of free time so i. read all the way up through part 7 after watching parts 1-3 (or 4? cant remember). im not as into it anymore but jojos (and araki) still hold a place in my heart <3 HATING OLD MAN JOSEPH IS SO FUNNY KDSNFVK NO OFFENSE JUST LIKE. YEAH. U SHOULD HATE HIM. THATS A VALID RESPONSE AND HE DESERVES IT. KICK HIS CHEATING OLD ASS. i loved younger joseph and like a lot of ppl him cheating on suzie q pissed me da fuck off. but in pt 4 he’s frail and old and they make u feel bad but still. i KNow What You Did. appreciative u hate someone more than sanji tho like hell yea my boy aint at the bottom LMAO. its cool others have noticed the similarities between dio and doffy too! i always wonder if long running mangaka take insp from each other sometimes
omg…im converting u…my influence as the fav sanji lover /j. but that makes me happy!! hell yea we’re changing outlooks over here. i validate ur sanji hatred but i also wont be mad if u like him a little teehee. his fanon is. a lot better than his canon tho so. that helps. we are fixing him. taking him away from oda and dressing him up like a doll . and if u go back to hating him thats ok too at least he isnt old man joseph 
i only interact w one piece here on tumblr or in the 2 op discord servers i happen to be in. with it being so mainstream (and i have. never been in a mainstream popular fandom like this before) i know theres a ton of gross dudebros who like it so i try to avoid that. sucks to hear there’s a bunch of transphobia but im not surprised :/ i still do see yamato discourse and its like got damn how much convincing do u need yall. but no i agree it probably is the audience oda cultivated + his earlier portrayals…though i do really like that he. tried again and did better. though even with yamato i sometimes feel like he puts him in situations that go against canon (like why did he draw yamato as a geisha and include him in the womens day colorspread…oda why) but alas. give and take
YES THERE;S SO MANY CHARACTERS WHO HAVE INSTANCES LIKIE THAT!! SO MANY MORALS AND CONVICTIONS THEY STICK TO AND SO MANY STRONG CHARACTER TRAITS. thats why i find so many op characters easy to write, bc they’re outlined so heavily in the show in what their archetypes and ideals and behaviors are…it kinda bothers me that luffy falls asleep during moments like that too bc it would make ME upset but like. YEA THATS IN CHARACTER FOR HIM DFKNFV
AH A LAW LOVER!! he’s very popular !?!? i know he comes in again in wano but during punk hazard and dressrosa i was like is this enough screentime for how popular he is omg. i guess he’s just pathetic and sad and grungy punk emo boy . tbh if i didnt already have so many favs who fill that spot i would probably have him as a fav as well. but i do REALLY LIKE law. his backstory with cora….fucks me UP!! and he’s been through a lot and come out stronger. plus his juxtaposition and interactions with luffy and the strawhats is so fucking funny kcncd. the op server im in has PLENTY of law lovers so i see him often. i think i stole this from a tumblr post recently but i saw this and saved it to my phone bc i loved it so much
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i relate to him here. he is so me. this was me dyking it up at university fr
ik this is from one piece party but i think it shows his secret silly here. he got it from cora i think how could he not. but he hides it under that I Am A Serious And Scary Doctor . like sure trafalgar 
YES send me the full list!! in return i will list more favs as well. mayhaps a tierlist of some kind. we will see
glad u liked the zoros :^) idk anything about jjk but i will look up this choso man one moment. [...] okay i actually really like his design (and hair) but that looks like hell to draw i wish u the best </3 i have a degree in art and ummm its still really hard sorry to tell u it does not get better </3 [JOKING THATS A JOKE A JOKE CJNCD]
here’s a question to leave u off with: what do you think each of the strawhats eye colors is? since most of them are just drawn with black dots. and IF DIFFERENT what are your headcanons/what do you Wish they were 👁️ eagerly awaiting ur response bc i have Opinions on this
talk to u next time!
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