Y’ALL JUST HEAR ME OUT.
How many times has anyone watched episode 4 where at the end Kaya kisses Usopp goodbye? That WHOLE scene has me dying for one specific reason.
Yes. Zoro is awkward. He looks away. They all do. But the WHOLE time even when Luffy and Nami start talking and she says, “Let them have this one.” He is STILL looking uncomfortable and nervous. Like, what is even affection?? What even is kissing???
I know they are supposed to be between 17-19 when they all first meet, but after watching this scene over and over again, and finding this video, y’all cannot tell me that Zoro has 1) had a girlfriend 2) has kissed someone. Because that boy is so nervous just from WATCHING A KISS. It’s giving cute fuckin inexperienced in the ways of affection and life and I can’t deal. He’s so soft and such a baby. A BABY.
This is why when I write for him he pushes back at any sort of affection or he struggles to say or do the right thing, feeling wise. He’s inexperienced when it comes to relationships and what is the right thing to say. Even in episode two, he says “I don’t talk. I hit things.” If He’s about to profess some type of feelings prepare yourself for a messy and confusing ride cause it’s going to have a lot of starts and stops and heavy sighing mixed in with throat clearing.
Attached is a video I came across from a Brazilian fan account for One Piece that literally just focuses on him the whole time during the kiss. You can try and tell me I’m wrong but 🤷🏽♀️🙃🙃🫠 I’m officially in on that idea.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/CxBYidfO8Dz/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==
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You know that Paris themed bedroom that every little girl had?
Noel had it
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I'll rip in hands and teeth and take a bite
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
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The Greeks would've easily won the Camp Jupiter vs Camp Half Blood battle. Not because of any logical, strategic reasons though. Its because they're batshit crazy
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Arthur keeping tabs on Merlin day 1 so they can “accidentally” run into each other at the market
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why 's simon so big? i mean, he's all height, muscles, and sassy, dark attitude. but he's also ur sweet, thoughtful, and silent boyfriend. and it makes me feral, cause he literally towers over u, wrapping u in thick arms and breathing u in. cause let's be honest, the smell of ur perfume/cologne makes him dizzy and warm :( and havin' u buried within his arms, while u whisper sweet nothings and talk about ur day literally soothes every ache 'n his body. i promise u he misses ur scent when he isnt home and sprays somethin' of his with ur perfume/cologne to take with him, just so he can have a small piece of u. anyways my love for this gruff, blunt man runs deep. ˙◠˙
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james, heading into the prefects bathrooms after his morning run: regulus? i didn't know you woke up early
reg, heading out of said bathrooms after getting ready for bed: ...haha, yeah
james: are those your pyjamas???
reg: bye!
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Accept His Offer? [YES] [ALSO YES?]
Please forgive me for this I thought it'd be funny LMAOOOO was unsure about posting but the funny won.
Bonus doodles!!! Cuz I'm NOT normal:
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I'm an "AroAce Stereotype"
I'm Romance averse/Repulsed>
I'm Sex repulsed
I'm non-partnering
I hate the idea of marriage in all forms
I don't want a QPR at all
I'm loveless
I'm someone who gets uncomfortable at sexual talk and sex jokes
I'm someone who often has innuendos or sexual concept fly over my head.
I'm someone who can't tell when someone is flirting with me
I'm someone who can't pick up on romantic or sexual tension
I'm someone who finds "shipping" to be annoying
I'm someone who says "They just seem like friends to me"
I'm someone who believed that attraction could be turned on or off
I'm someone who can't make sense of romance at all and cant figure out what makes it different from every other relationship.
I'm someone who thinks romance is stupid and sex is gross and I don't understand the big deal everyone makes about it
I'm someone who never was upset to find out I was AroAce but rather relieved as I have a genuine fear of being stuck in a romantic relationship that i do not want.
In all cases I am not an AroAce who can be considered "normal" by the standards of allo society.
I'm not just a stereotype for you to shit on.
I'm not the reason aphobes are aphobic
I'm not a problem that you need to erase and refute to be accepted by allos.
I'm not an experience that you and ignore as "not really how aspec people are" just because You are not part of it.
Stop leaving us behind. Stop throwing us under the bus. We deserve support too. We deserve to not be demonized and shunned because we're an "stereotype". We are not the problem. We are not a problem to be fixed. start fighting aphobes on their logic instead of trying to make up for our existence.
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The reason we have polls on tumblr now is cause staff saw the tumblr sexyman poll on Twitter and realized how much they fucked up not having it on their own platform
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world's most annoying man is not allowed outside due to his inability to shut up
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oh you know it's all latestage capitalism but the thing is. how are you supposed to be a person inside of this. a person trying to be a better version of yourself.
oh, you started working young, which was kind of hard, but it's just the way stuff works sometimes. and it was 2008 and your family couldn't afford heat. but it's fine, you grow a spine and get used to the professional world and besides it was the suburbs we're talking about here, like, your life could have been actually hard, so what if your father lost his job and you can't afford to move or turn the lights back on. and once you start making money, it's good. you keep doing that. because now they're relying on you. so you have to do that.
oh you were in thousands of dollars of debt at 17 years old so that you could go to school, because you have to go to school if you want to get a "real" job. you even did it "right", you worked parttime and attended community college before you transferred to a public school. you were under so many merit scholarships.
which is fine. you pick yourself up and you say like, okay. i graduated college. i'm holding down a job. i'm doing the Adult Thing, which looks and acts like this, according to all the books i've read. you start with the shitty job and then you climb that corporate ladder.
but the shitty job doesn't cover rent and you stretch yourself too-thin so you get sick. good luck with that. the shitty job no longer pays for your meals. everyone asks why you don't just move, but there's nowhere to move to. and with what money are you going to be moving? and then the loans come back, because they were never going to forgive them, because you were 17 and trying to do the right thing, which was stupid. people are now saying you shouldn't have even gone to school.
which is fine. but because you have no other option, so you do the shitty job, and you apply every day for like 5 new ones, and despite the fact everyone says "there's no one who wants to work!" it's actually just that nobody is fucking hiring so you can either work for 13 dollars an hour in the shitty place you know (where at least you have a passingly friendly relationship with the manager) or you can start from scratch again with a different 13 dollars an hour without knowing how much abuse from the new job you'll be taking.
and if you quit you lose your insurance. if you quit you lose your housing. if you quit, you'll be another burnout kid. the lazy ones. these assholes, look at them!
and you come home to a family dinner and you hear from your father the same old thing. how he worked hard at his job and yes it sucked for a while but he was able to provide for the family and then the house and the dog and the rest of barbie's dream vacation. how the insurance did cover some of it. how you just really need to start speaking up more in manager conversations so they know you're a go-getter. you want to tell him - did you know we're actually doing more now hourly than any previous generation? - but you can't remember where you heard that statistic, and you're far too tired for the fucking argument. and then he starts in on his usual bit. where's the house? where's your kids? where's your ambition.
the same job the same money the same hours doesn't do it anymore. the same nose-to-the-grindstone now just shreds your face off. there's no such thing as upwards mobility, not really. and as far as you're aware, the money certainly is not trickling. you do the soulless stupid shit you signed up for because you fucking have to or else you literally risk your life (food, the apartment, the insurance), but it's not getting you anything. you download the stupid "save more" app and you budget and you do every right thing and then the price of eggs is 7 dollars and you say - oh great! another thing i have to fucking worry about now!
and you go to your stupid job and everyone in your father's generation just tells you to be better about being an adult. they have their homes and their savings account and their bailout and they say. well have you tried not drinking starbucks. well your generation just spends too much on clothing. well you might just be too addicted to travelling. and you - because you need the job - you bite your tongue and don't say i am being held prisoner and you're suggesting i stop pacing my cell if i don't like the scenery and you don't say what the fuck do you think i've been doing with my money and you don't say i haven't spent a cent on something nice in literally forever much less coffee you arrogant asshole. you open and close your bank app and check your loans and check your credit score and check fucking zillow and ziprecruiter and apartments.com just one time more. and still they give you that demeaning little grin and say - see, what you need is -
what you need is for your meds to stop being so fucking expensive. what you need is for the housing bubble to explode into dust. what you need is for billionaires to choke on their wealth. what you need is actual help. what you will get is more economic advice from people who are older-and-wiser.
and above you, almost in a glimmer, you can see the wedged smile of your debt getting toothier, wider.
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youve heard of sex flowers get ready for the flower that makes you into a celestial shoujo herione complete with particle effects you cannot turn the fuck off and creates a wifebeam so powerful it can incapacitate and maim and keeps making you burst into tears and fall on your ass which makes the wifebeam More Powerful and you also cannot turn this off either.
and is also still, sort of, a sex flower
from one of my favorite fanfictions, Celestial Afterglow by elanor_pam, a fic that defies description in the best possible way
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