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One Piece 1.01 "Romance Dawn" 1.08 "Worst in the East"

I’m home

Hello friends! I'm excited to announce my first ever Kickstarter project: The Interstellar Invertebrates enamel pin collection! For all the spineless critter lovers out there.

The collection features 5 different hard enamel pin designs: The rubber ducky isopod, the common cuttlefish, the sea slug willan's chromodoris, the western honey bee and the moon jellyfish.

I had a few prototypes of the isopod pin made in preparation for this project and they came out like this:

(Minor design changes are still possible for the final pin.)

If you're interested, here's the link to the pre-launch page so you can get notified when the campaign launches!

Absolutely insane lines to just drop in the middle of an academic text btw. Feeling so normal about this.

[ A Critical History of English Literature, Vol. 1, Prof. David Daiches, first published in 1960 ]

Something I find funny is that Reborn could have killed half of Tsuna's enemies with a gun to their head and yet he choose not to 'cause that was,,,, not his job.

His job was to train Tsuna so he let him fight and find his way around. But he could have killed those villains. They just weren't paying him for that.

Nobody understands the bond between a girl and the mediocre book she read when she was 13 years old.

Tsuna curled up on the couch, knees bent and tucked under his chin, with a book propped in front of him

Ryohei charges in, sweaty from his morning workout, about to head over to the Varia HQ for the weekly meet and bitch

Tsuna, knowing that Ryohei also just arrived via a transcontinental fight from Japan where he met with sponsors for his next big match and as a Sun Flame doesn't necessarily experience fatigue

Ryohei sees Tsuna on the couch, "Hey little bro!"

Tsuna looks straight into his eyes, unfolds his legs and sets his feet on the floor, leaning back against the couch

Ryohei, irritated, "C'mon! I'm busy! You don't wanna keep Lussuria waiting right"

Tsuna firmly pats his lap

Ryohei grumbling under his breath, stomps over like a kid being punished, flops onto the couch next to Tsuna, and lays his head on his lap

Tsuna is gracious enough to maintain an expression of polite blankness, before returning his attention to the book, while running a hand through Ryohei's hair

Ryohei is out in seconds, all his wired, locked tension melting from his body like butter on a hot day

Tsuna allows himself a small, smug smirk

One More Thing about Tsunayoshi Sawada that's just great as a character

He's such an average teenager. Like he's fucking thirteen. He's still working on being compassionate. He yelled at Haru that one time when they were both equally stressed out and Haru was just trying to cheer him up. Also: Tsuna's careless advice nearly pushed Yamamoto off the roof. His first instinct isn't always "Time to Go Hero Mode".

I like that Tsuna has to learn to take into account other people's situations. I like that being kind is actually a skill and like any skill requires practice and lessons. I like that Reborn pushes him to check on people because it's not instinctive yet! It's not ingrained yet! But it will be. But it can be.

opla is.. changing my brain chemistry..

Lord, I’m trying to save my friend today. I’ll risk my life fighting against my enemy. Please spare my friend.

choi yoon to hwa pyung (or vice versa, i'm okay with either) : "i leave you alone once, i'm not doing it again"

(I really wanted to fit this into canon but I just couldn't make it work for the episode I was going to base it after. I hope you enjoy it regardless.)

After everything that he’s gone through, Choi-yoon knows that salvation, in the sense of how he’s been taught, is not on the cards for him. There’s too much he’s seen, done, and wanted and he knows his shortcomings well enough now that he's disillusioned.

It’s never really been about that, he supposes, not his salvation at least. If Choi-yoon could secure it for someone else, ensure that at least one soul, more, was going to a heaven he would likely never see, it would be enough.

Then, they lose Hwa-Pyung and he’s not so sure anymore.

It’s not a crisis of faith. Choi-yoon can’t forsake a god he’s put so much of his life into, so much of his heart, but he can admit that he’d been shaken. More than the exorcisms, more than the curse placed on him, losing the other man had rocked the foundations of his very belief like nothing ever had.

How could a man like Hwa-pyung, a good man, be taken like that?

Choi-yoon’s only comfort some nights, when his skin aches and he’s terrified that the invisible, festering wounds on his chest will reappear, is that Hwa-pyung had died selflessly. It’s also, if Choi-yoon is being honest with himself, his biggest regret. Not being there in time to stop it.

So, with all that in mind, no one can particularly blame him, that when he and Gil-young find out that Hwa-pyung's alive, Choi-yoon takes the opportunity to indulge in the pure relief he feels.

It’s after they get the tough things out of the way, the apologies, the explanations, the tears, that the three of them are sat, two days later, in Hwa-pyung’s small fishing cottage, a few bottles of soju split between the three of them. Gil-young is filling them in on a case she’s been working, trying to keep the tone as light as she can. It’s a moving gambling ring, dog fighting, and for them, it’s easily digestible small talk over drinks.

Choi-yoon is doing his best not to drink more than what will get him just to the edge of drunk but each time he looks over at the other man, hair so much longer but shoulders relaxed, Choi-yoon’s rosary around his neck, there’s an itch in his throat. It would be a lie to say that he’d chosen to sit on Hwa-pyung’s blind side unintentionally. Choi-yoon is still not convinced that this is real. The two days he’d had to come to terms with Hwa-pyung’s resurrection doesn’t feel like enough, and there’s a part of him that doubts, that believes if the other leaves his line of sight, he’ll turn into smoke and vanish like he’d done a year ago in the ocean.

Choi-yoon feels less self-conscious knowing that Hwa-pyung can’t observe him back from this angle. Then he feels guilty for those feelings and reaches for the shot that’s already been poured for him.

Out of the three, Choi-yoon is still the quietest, but he attempts to make it clear he wants to be here with thoughtful hums and acknowledgments that he's paying attention. He’d offered his own recap of the year for Hwa-pyung had been gone when the night had started, so there isn't much he can add to the conversation at large now.

When they finish off their last bottle Choi-yoon is a bit further gone than he’d intended to be, collar and jacket discarded, down to just his dress shirt, one button at the very top of his throat undone, vulnerable. Choi-yoon will blame his fuzzy head and flushed skin for the lack of composure. He thinks it’s more to do with wanting to be bare for these people, to shed away the stone walls of the clergy and be at peace with his friends (because that’s what they are) for the first time. No impending demonic possessions to facilitate the exposure of his secret self.

He’s still clear-minded enough to know it would be unwise for any of them to leave if his own inebriation is any indication. Hwa-pyung, who’s held his drink better than any of them, shares the same sentiment, and he and Gil-young squabble back and forth over who’s going to take the couch.

Hwa-pyung ends up winning, sending the girl off to get comfortable while he changes his sheets for her. In the meantime Choi-yoon busies himself with cleaning up their takeout boxes and bottles, limbs heavy and movements sluggish as he turns Hwa-pyung’s rusty taps to rinse the glasses.

He gets distracted like that, warm water flowing over his fingers, his head pleasantly heavy and the soju bottles clinking lightly as he sets them aside to dry out.

It’s how Hwa-pyung is able to sneak up on him so easily, the man offering a smile in apology when Choi-yoon jumps and almost shatters what’s in his hands. They stare at one another for a moment, the atmosphere somewhere between neutral and undercut with the tension that’s always been wrapped around them, before Hwa-pyung's smile softens into something smaller and he reaches forward, turning off the faucet.

“C’mon,” He takes Choi-yoon’s sleeve between his forefinger and thumb and pulls him towards the living room. Choi-yoon follows easily, leaving the last bottle on the kitchen counter as they go. The small table they’d been eating and drinking at is moved, pushed to the side of the room, and in its place is a large but thin-looking mat. The couch is also done up with a wool blanket and pillow.

Choi-yoon goes to kneel wordlessly by the makeshift bed on the floor and is stopped, Hwa-pyung’s hand going to his shoulder to halt him. He’s smiling still, looking at Choi-yoon like he’s being silly.

“You take the couch.” He makes an effort to pull Choi-yoon up by his shirt, but the priest stays stubbornly frozen in the awkward half-squat he’d been caught at.

“You’ve already given Gil-young your bed. I won’t.” Choi-yoon is used to being uncomfortable, the beds at the monastery are more like slabs of stone than the springs and foam they’re promised to be.

Hwa-pyung rolls his eyes at him and it’s odd, but the flare of anger that hits Choi-yoon's chest is welcomed. He’s missed it.

“I don’t want to argue over sleeping arrangements father, just sleep on the couch.”

If Hwa-pyung is somehow under the impression that a year has made Choi-yoon more agreeable, less bullheaded, he’s mistaken.

Instead of offering an answer, Choi-yoon lowers himself finally to the ground, even as the other man yanks on his shirt collar in a futile attempt to get him to stand. He bats away Hwa-pyung’s hand easily and slides under the thin sheet that’s been laid out and then rolls to face away from the other man, leaving no space to argue further.

When the light in the living room goes out he thinks he’s won.

He shouldn’t have assumed that Hwa-pyung had gotten any less stubborn himself.

Choi-yoon doesn’t expect the sheet to shift and a warm body to settle in next to him on the mat. He turns and feels his breath catch in his throat. Hwa-pyung is laying on his back, hands behind his head, his functioning eye turned towards Choi-yoon and a smirk dancing on his lips, triumphant.

“Hwa-pyung-!” The man throws out a hand to slap at Choi-yoon, silencing him.

“Let’s not argue about it, we both got what we want, no need to complain now.” They both know very well that Choi-yoon had not gotten what he wanted but he bites his tongue. It will only lead to a circular conversation and somehow he knows that Hwa-pyung will still end up on top.

Choi-yoon lets out a sigh and mirrors the other, moving to lay on his back as well and willing sleep to come and take him.

It doesn’t happen. Choi-yoon counts the minutes in his head until he gets to fifteen and cracks his eyes open.

He’s not used to sharing a sleeping space so close to others, even when he was a boy, the beds at the school had been a respectable distance away from one another, lest the boys get any idea to goof around in the middle of the night. Hwa-pyung is a living, breathing thing beside him, their shoulders practically touching, and Choi-yoon can’t help that his brain locks into the way that the other's body shifts and the heat of it, radiating towards him while they’re both under the blanket.

Unable to fight the urge, Choi-yoon turns his head to look. Hwa-pyung’s eye is closed, and his mouth is open slightly, breathing even and low. He looks surprisingly comfortable for essentially being on the hard ground.

“I can feel you staring.” Hwa-pyung’s voice is low, not a whisper but not exactly at the volume he usually speaks. Choi-yoon hadn’t expected him to still be awake but he isn't surprised either. The other man turns to face him and opens his eyes to meet Choi-yoon’s gaze through the darkness. Choi-yoon can still make out the stark whiteness of Hwa-pyung’s damaged eye and it makes his stomach churn, a terrifying reminder of all of their sacrifices. But Hwa-pyung is the only one who has to bear them...

It’s unfair.

Neither of them says anything for a long while, just staring at one another. It’s strange in that it’s not strange at all. Eventually, Hwa-pyung seems to find the words he needs to say.

“When you and Gil-young leave in the morning…” he pauses, and Choi-yoon feels like he’s suddenly on the edge of something scary, whatever the man is going to say, it won’t be favorable. “You should probably stay away for a while.”

Choi-yoon feels himself go very tense. He should have expected as much. The reconciliation had been too easy, the acceptance that they’d found him, even after learning the reason he’d never reached out. Choi-yoon feels like something is scooping at his insides. Even now, after all the loss, after all the struggle, Hwa-pyung is still offering his neck and wrists for shackles, content to keep the burden all to himself.

It makes Choi-yoon sick.

Unbidden, unstoppable, he reaches forward, face doing something complicated he’s sure, and the tips of his fingers find the top of Hwa-pyung’s scar, slicing into his eyebrow. To his credit, the other man doesn’t shrink away, just follows the path of Choi-yoon’s arm with his good eye. Choi-yoon traces the line and lets out a shaky exhale, forcing his thoughts to gather into something coherent.

“I leave you once…” Choi-yoon breathes the words, finger sliding down to where the scar ends, just at the top of Hwa-pyung’s cheekbone. ‘I leave you once and this happens,’ is what he’s saying.

Choi-yoon is tired, floating on whatever this strange energy between them is and wishing that it didn’t circle his heart like a vice. Choi-yoon knows what it’s called, but years of fear beaten into him refuses to let him name the emotion for now. He pauses there before letting his gaze drop to meet Hwa-pyung’s again.

Something deep inside, maybe the fact that Choi-yoon’s rosary is catching the soft moonlight from the half-shuttered windows, still around Hwa-pyung’s neck, is telling him he needs Hwa-pyung to know this. Maybe it’s just that selfish voice in the back of his head.

“Choi-yo-” Hwa-pyung looks sad, and Choi-yoon doesn’t like it, not how the expression makes him look years beyond his age, and not how it makes him feel.

“I’m not doing it again.” He’s resolute in this, Park Il-do’s possible return, the curse that may or may not remain, lingering over his head, he won’t leave Hwa-pyung alone again.

The other man sighs and even though he closes his eyes and offers a small nod of acquiescence, Choi-yoon knows that this conversation isn’t over. He’ll have Gil-young keep tabs on him just in case he tries to leave. He doubts Hwa-pyung would, not with his grandfather still needing him, but Choi-yoon feels like his minor paranoia is justified. Hwa-pyung opens his eyes again, and Choi-yoon doesn’t know what he sees. Whatever it is, however he looks at the other man, it takes the rest of the fight out of Hwa-pyung and the small frown is replaced with a tired smile.

Choi-yoon is slightly startled when a hand comes up to wrap around his own, having not fully realized he was still touching Hwa-pyung’s face, thumb absently tracing the lines of the scar.

“Go to bed Choi-yoon.” Hwa-pyung guides his hand down to the space between them and Choi-yoon notes, even as his eyes grow heavy, that the other isn’t pulling away from the contact. He uses that as some kind of justification for turning his palm and lacing their fingers together, a part of his brain still buzzed and exhausted, supplying that now Hwa-pyung can’t leave.

Choi-yoon is not destined for salvation, he’s promised no place in heaven, and he doesn’t know if Hwa-pyung is either. The least he can do, what he wants the do, is walk that path, if not next to Hwa-pyung, behind him, so that this time, if the other man stumbles, it’s not by himself. If the devil comes rattling at the door once again, they can both be there holding him back.

Mostly, selfishly, it’s so that neither of them has to walk it alone.

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Thank you for reading

I hate gay people so much! This scene broke my heart!

the guest fans are sleeping or what ? the tumblr hashtag and ao3 section looks dry

i dont think you get it. 1980 was twenty years ago. 1990 was 10 years ago. 2000 was 10 years ago. 2016 was two years ago. 2018 was also two years ago. 2017 was last year. 2014 was four years ago. do you understand me now?????

One More Thing about Tsunayoshi Sawada that's just great as a character

He's such an average teenager. Like he's fucking thirteen. He's still working on being compassionate. He yelled at Haru that one time when they were both equally stressed out and Haru was just trying to cheer him up. Also: Tsuna's careless advice nearly pushed Yamamoto off the roof. His first instinct isn't always "Time to Go Hero Mode".

I like that Tsuna has to learn to take into account other people's situations. I like that being kind is actually a skill and like any skill requires practice and lessons. I like that Reborn pushes him to check on people because it's not instinctive yet! It's not ingrained yet! But it will be. But it can be.

Kinda personal so

Read the TL:DR to get to the Ptutu-relevant info!

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Okay so I'm currently trying to move out of my abusive house ASAP. I've been planning and saving up to leave next year, but the abuse has escalated and I have to get out. Like, right now.

I really wanted to host another anniversary giveaway this summer. And it's such a fun birthday too; she's turning 21! She can drink in the US lol

But I have to put down my blorbos for a second and focus on my actual circumstances. I'm trying to help myself as much as I can. I work full time at the highest paying job within walking distance from my home. I'm going to sell some of my merch, some cosplay pieces, pointe shoes, perfume, music boxes, list my pins/prints/stickers on my shop in small batches, and offer small art commissions.

There's so much I wanted to do still. I had pieces I wanted to make into charms and prints and standees. I wanted to recreate the picnic from Akt 3 and a music box to look like Edel's. I wanted to draw a lot more and scan my books to share. And I really, really wanted to host a big, fun giveaway again.

I'm looking forward to doing those things as soon as I relocate to somewhere safe.

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TL:DR

I'm selling my Ptutu merch, cosplay pieces, and pointe shoes soon!

My enamel pin, art print, and vinyl stickers will be available on my shop in small batches!

And I'll be publicly offering art commissions for the first time!

I'll share here so you can snatch them up, so please be on the lookout. Thank you for your interest 🤍

I love that the khr fandom just collectively decided that Reborn's fanon name was Renato Sinclair, I love ya'll

The khr fandom truly is a hive mind fr

the fucking iron grip that KHR has on my ass is insane bc its such an EPITOME of found family - bc its not even the side effect of like a shared goal or mission the way found families tend to be - but because FOUND FAMILY IS THE ENTIRE POINT

its the end goal, its the journey, its the whole story

theres a wholeass emphasis on tsuna's big empty house getting more crowded and more noisy

and not only that, its found family and a found purpose - each of the vongola find an achor in tsuna and vice versa - like fuck everybody else, im with them type a way

its that bone gnawing loyalty where not even the hounds of hell could keep these assholes from having each other's back

not just their relation to tsuna - which is the primary focus of the story but their relation to each other - how they must learn to be together bc again

Found Family Is The Mission

I'm back on my Ghost Hunt bullshit and I just need people to appreciate all the different kinds of love and affection that are so openly displayed by all the characters through the original novels, the manga, and the anime (even if the anime ends before The Big Reveal.)

It hit me more than ever this read through just how much of an "Oh, that makes sense," moment the others go through when they realize Naru has been grieving Gene the whole time and how it affected his personality. Leaving aside Mai and Naru's personal dynamic at that point, the way Hosho, Ayako, John and Yasu show such genuine sympathy (despite just mercilessly dragging his ass when they confronted him about being Oliver Davis) shows how much they care, and what they do to express it, and the biggest part of that is making sure he knows he's not alone and he never has been, even after his parents show up. The Davis' pinpoint Hosho and Ayako as the two other adults who've supported Naru through thick and thin (when they didn't know him and had no obligation to keep coming when he called, because it takes so much for Naru to ask for help) and their gratitude is palpable on the page.

And that's not even getting into the way that, through all her own feelings, Mai tries to re-assured Masako that Naru never hated her for knowing immediately about Gene-- he just wasn't ready for *anyone* to know-- and yet, he took her comb in The Bloodstained Labyrinth as his own way of making sure she was still alive, knowing at any moment he could be seeing her death the way he saw Gene's--which shows how glad in *some way* he was that one person knew about Gene; knew why Naru was in Japan at all.

Ayako is another character whose affection for the others shines through, most obviously in Forbidden Past-time and Haunted Mansion. She drives everyone back to her apartment *literally drenched in blood*, lets them shower (and deals with Hosho sitting around in just a towel and shorts while his clothes wash) and then ends up passed out with John in sheer exhaustion. Then there's her sheer, stubborn love in Haunted Mansion, despite how (really, unfairly) scathing Hosho was of her almost for the whole book (and at least some of that is because he pushed her to do the exorcism instead of waiting for John, and there's got to be so much guilt there--he's more angry at himself than he is her, and I think, on this read-through, she knows that.)

What comes through for Naru, and really everyone by the end is that grief is just love trying to remember what it looks like in the dark, and that shared grief--like a chain of people holding hands, groping for the light switch--helps love remember itself just that much easier.

I've never seen a writer capture that sentiment better than Ono Fuyumi. Nothing her characters do ever feels out of character or beyond reason, especially once you find out what Naru's real deal is.

i definitely said this last time i read akumu no sumu ie but like naru is so autistic i adore him.

the way I want things to play out

1.) JJk readers find out about ono fuyumi thru the jjk manga and decide to take a look at the author akutami likes

2.) ppl find out about ghost hunt

3.) ghost hunt gets more attention in japan and overseas

4.) REBOOT?????PLEASE?????

It will never not be a crime that the Ghost Hunt anime didn't finish out the novel series. That short little moment at the end of the Haunted Mansion/Cursed God anime adaption isnothing compared to how they all come together as a found family when Naru finally finds Gene, and is forced to reveal that he's actually Oliver Davis.

Not only that, but when I first read the eighth novel, Hosho putting all the pieces together about Naru's true identity felt antagonistic. On my third/fourth read-though, it didn't feel that way at all: in fact, it felt like Naru was letting Hosho say everything he couldn't bare to up to that point, and Naru just seems... relieved. Relieved and a bit proud, because he genuinely did very little other than being his sarcastic, cynical self to hide who he was.

More than that, even though Mai tries to stay on the sidelines because she's dealing with all her own feelings, she can still see how grateful Naru's parents are that he and Lin weren't really alone -- they know how much having other adults around to back Lin up and occasionally put Naru in his place means and are so, so grateful for Hosho and Ayako.

The Feels. They kill me.

#Ghost Hunt #adorable!!

She has two hands for a reason~