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#han.txt
cowboycereal · 1 year
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the wenclair hug in the finale perfectly encapsulates wednesday’s overarching relationship arc. the entire season she’s struggled to let people in and allow them to help her. they have to push their way into her life, she doesn’t welcome them in herself. and so when enid hugs her, wednesday initially pushed her away. she didn’t want to hug her at first, but enid just stares at her and waits because this is what’s going to comfort enid in the moment. they’ve already had a fight about their friendship and how wednesday seemingly doesn’t value it like enid does. enid feels like she has to put forth all the effort. but then wednesday hugs her. she sees that this is what enid needs in the moment, and so she puts aside her discomfort to be there for her friend. and then she sinks into it, and she’s not just hugging enid for enid’s comfort; she’s getting comfort out of it too. and ultimately that’s the crux of wednesday’s personal arc: letting people in and caring for them isn’t weak, and she enjoys having those connections. they mean something to her, and this hug really shows that.
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hanalwayssolo · 1 year
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i’ve allowed these random hfw headcanon things to gnaw and nibble away at my hyperfixating brain like a bunch of starving squirrels and god (by the forge! by the sun! by the ten!) i might as well write it down before i go insane during this long holiday weekend:
erend, in his thorough research of the ancient ones’ history with music, begins to use phrases like, “this beat is sick,” “this bop slaps!” or “this is a banger!” to describe the songs he thought are good. which are mostly heavy metal. in his defense, the only reason why the genre appealed to him was because it’s “the oseram blood” in him. (“it’s metal??? get it??? by the forge my people would love this!!”)
varl, to keep erend from blasting his questionable music taste in the base, often hijacks his focus with classical music he discovered along with zo and alva. mostly, varl plays vivaldi’s winter. erend was pissed at first but after being forced to listen to it on repeat, it’s actually… not that bad. in fact, his words were: “the beat drop in the middle? a solid 10/10.”
kotallo asking aloy about seashells has been a thing, but honestly, this was not at all a random question, nor did it come from nowhere. truth is, when he was a kid, he often traveled with his parents to the long coast, where he would watch the sea’s ebbs and flows, would listen as the water foams and makes a rustling sound as it meets the shore. he found it so mesmerising, somewhat resenting that he was not born in tide’s reach. now, after watching all the data that aloy has gathered in her travels and having learned that this strange object called a seashell carried the sound of the ocean in its body, he remembers a time when he told his mother how he wanted to “keep the music of the crashing waves in his pocket” so he can continue listening to it even from the bulwark. she only smiled at him and gave him a hug so warm his mother could have been the sun itself. anyway. this seashell seems like lovely thing to have, not just to have the ocean at his fingertips, but perhaps something to remember his mother by.
alva learns this thing called scrabble from the archives, a game played by the old ones to enhance their knowledge of the glyphs. (their word for it was vocabulary. or something to that effect.) she explains the mechanics to the rest of the gang, says that it’s similar to machine strike given how it’s played on a wooden board, but instead of machine pieces, it’s glyphs on a wooden tile. this discussion with the gang happens to coax beta out of the basement.
beta, of course, knows a thing or two about scrabble through the apollo training interface. she’s been so keen to try it out except she didn’t have anyone to play it with when she was still with the zeniths. here in the base, she offers to help in making the board, which more or less astounds everybody considering how… well… she’s been keeping mostly to herself, an isolation / kind of introversion worse than kotallo’s. this makes erend and varl immediately volunteer in carving the board. even kotallo promises he would find the best pigment to paint the glyphs on the tiles. zo and alva exchange a look that’s like, “did we just witness a nora, an oseram, and a tenakth agree on… collaborating?? for a board game??”
zo discovers the recipe for this thing called coffee and chocolate frosting, which she has heard kotallo mentioned during one of his machine strike sessions with erend. (“an oseram forging an unlikely friendship with a tenakth marshal? can you believe??” erend exclaims proudly one night, sharing his piss-poor ale with kotallo.) she lets erend, varl, and of course, kotallo, taste-test for her. the results yielded positive, if not close to catastrophic results. positive because they all seemed to thoroughly enjoy the coffee and the chocolate, but by catastrophic results, she supposes that maybe she added too much sugar and cacao beans? because somehow, the guys kind of… went berserk. they were so awake and alive and burning with a rush of energy that the trio decided to go out to train and hunt that by the time they came back, varl left a trail of dead burrowers outside the base. erend managed to collect a dozen of apex bristleback hearts. and kotallo… returned with a carcass of a stormbird and a massive boulder from the bulwark. zo will have a lot to explain to aloy about this.
aside from varl, the other person who enjoys talking to beta is actually alva. alva is very much fascinated with how beta knows a lot of things!! they spend evenings reading through the archives and talking to gaia, with beta often correcting alva’s quen version of things. of course, alva understands how beta might somehow come off as blunt and rude; after finding out how beta has been treated by the zeniths, alva would raise hell over these immortal jackasses if she could.
zo religiously tends to her garden outside the base by the cliffside facing plainsong, but every now and then, she’d notice how the plants are freshly watered just before she can get to the task herself, or how there’s often an unfamiliar addition to her pot of flowers. she doesn’t mind this at all; frankly, she appreciates it. she assumes varl might be behind this as he’s the only one who lends her a hand to keep their little lush space alive and to bring in more plants for the base—until gaia points out a fun fact in their passing conversation that the new flowers blooming in her garden are only native to tenakth soil. specifically, it only grows in the sheerside mountains. well. with that in mind, it doesn’t take long for zo to put two and two together. besides, it really doesn’t take a genius to figure out the identity of this secret gardener. 
so yeah, sure. sure. kotallo takes care of the cliffside garden in secret. i mean, why wouldn’t he? it’s on the way to the sunwing site where he often trains, and erend usually forgets to water the plants, anyway. and about the flowers... he wanted to bring something that reminds him of home and to honour the friends he lost. truth is, this was all gaia’s idea. ever since he told gaia about how he lost his arm and what happened in the embassy, she mentioned that one of the many things the old ones did to cope with the kind of thing he’s been through is to make a garden. (and by ‘that kind of thing’, the words that gaia used specifically were trauma and grief. he knows she means well but this didn’t make sense to him—he’s pretty sure he’s neither traumatised nor grieving. of course not. he’s fine. he’s absolutely, totally fine.)
(of course he’s NOT fine but by the fucking ten why would he dare to admit that out loud? and what is he if not in denial? yes, he felt this when he lost his parents—but how come this is different? how come this feels a lot heavier than when he was a kid? does grief change its form the older you get? what if he’s struggling to process these big and complex feelings because he grew up being taught how to fight and not to sit with grief? to only bury the dead and to keep moving forward? besides, who has time to grieve and to wallow on losses when his tribe is at the brink of another civil war? this has always been the tenakth way: to keep a stiff upper lip, to never let sentiment get in the way of duty. to mourn is as unnatural as a dreadwing being docile. so how, pray tell, could he ever let himself have a say when he’s hasn’t been taught to do so?)
so instead, kotallo learns how to plant flowers to make room for grief. he makes space for another when they lose varl in gemini. he realises later on that he might have been unkind to erend, how easily he let go of the words “we can’t sit around wallowing in our losses” as if varl was a thing and not a friend, because truthfully, he was coming from a place of fear for his tribe, which, in turn, diminished the way erend was dealing with this loss, who’s taking this harder than the rest of them. of course varl and erend go a long way back. this time, kotallo is the outsider to their friendship. and kotallo of all people should know what that kind of pain feels like. he lost an arm, yes, but to lose your friends, to be the only one to survive… isn’t the grief from all of that a kind of maiming, too?
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starions · 10 months
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hyperfixating on a game that was released 12 years ago AND on a character with minimal content throughout the fandom is crazy
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insomnihan · 8 months
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NO UOU GUYS DID NOT SEE HANDONGS LATEST POST
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rhizomehaunt · 8 months
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had a dream I was working in an eyeglass shop with people I haven’t seen for years, people who I love, people who belonged to different lifetimes but we were together and wearing thick aprons to protect against oil. I would climb up on the edge of tiny boxes and racks high in the back room which stretched so far, like a factory, though the bare edges were limned in darkness and the only light was warm and near us in such a way as to suggest we were underground, deep below the earth, though the front room was only sunken to a basement level and there were windows that let in faint wan light blown greenish as if preceding a storm. it was my birthday and there was a table of cakes wreathed in chocolate frosting and speckled with sugared roses and whipped cream, and near the end of my shift my friend [] called me back, said surprise, and gestured to the table lit with the flickering light. I wiped my wrists clean and we stood together eating slices on paper plates that felt sturdy in our hands. my best friend had dropped off a box so wide it could hardly fit in my arms and it was wrapped in photos of us and writing about our friendship, its largesse suggesting the scope of our relationship, and though I can’t put a name to what was inside I knew instinctively the gift she gave me was precious and it left me feeling as if I too had been a warm light burning hot in the dusk. there was a letter on it that a friend read as I gathered my things, and the contents stunned him, perhaps because they suggested an intimacy he and I wished we had reached but never came to, and he left without saying goodbye. my sister had left a box too, though it was smaller and sturdier, like it was filled with interlocking stones, and as she and I hadn’t spoken in the dream or in my waking life in months, I held it carefully as if it would break. Both boxes I piled on my back and held tight with a piece of string wrapped around my waist. They left a pleasant weight and balance to my steps though heavy, as if they were bolstering me. As I left, I passed a woman and her daughter who were trying to get a glasses fitting and they were frightened of me because of the dirtied clothing I wore and a grease streaked on my cheeks I can only assume was from the eyeglasses. What I said to them doesn’t exist anymore but they softened towards me, smiled, and as I passed the door, an older man asked me what I had said, just what poetry meant to me. I was afraid of him though knew I didn’t need to be, and felt instinctively it was a test I hadn’t prepared for as I tried to call up the words I had spoken to the woman. What I said to him appears only in fragments as if the screen had warped, though I gestured and spoke quietly about how poetry to me was about the edges of ourself, what lies between us and what we’re looking at, poetry always what unknowing we enter into the more we try to name it. He seemed satisfied, let me pass, and I yelled goodbye to the shop and the faces I loved as I opened the door, climbed the steps into the gathering twilight. I saw my sister and her partner and one of my siblings walking towards me, though I could not make out their features, on their way to a movie. They asked if I wanted to come and I, hopeful after the gift my sister had given, said it’s my birthday, won’t you come home with me? their words cut out, halting, hesitant, and they continued in their original direction while I walked the other way through the streets alone.
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monstrousfreedom · 1 year
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I am back from a small hiatus. I will sort through my notes and do follow backs over the next couple of days!
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akechifacts · 1 year
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goro akechi fact of the day. he has to watch 4 hours of programming lectures for his 8.30 prac tmr. he is tired.
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gayofficial · 11 months
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you walk into a phoebe bridgers concert and they hand you a clipboard
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bloominbluee · 8 months
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the day that kpoppies understand that singing High does not equal singing Good is the day i finally know peace
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sootsmudge · 1 year
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today's really kicking my ass nanowrimo-wise 💀
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h4njin · 2 years
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- Welcome to my blog! -
→ HAN—he/him—16
(ALL FANFICS SFW)
____________________
if you’re visiting my blog, welcome! you can call me by my username, or just han. i’ve been writing k-pop fanfics for a while now, just didn’t even think of uploading them until my friends convinced me to do so. writing has been a hobby of mine for some time, and writing fanfictions for my favourite idols is a fun activity!
for my hobbies, as i said i really like writing. but my other hobbies include: reading, dancing, singing, and exercising.
i don’t know if anyone will be reading my fics, but if you do, it’d be greatly appreciated!
[posts will be pretty inconsistent.]
masterlist:
IVE
Liz
Cozy
Gaeul
Midnight Love (ft. Wonyoung)
Kep1er
Xiaoting
Love Galore
Itzy
Yeji
I lost my number, could i borrow yours? [short]
Aespa
Winter
She likes spring, I prefer winter
Karina
when i fall for you.
Le Sserafim
Chaewon
Sober
Red Velvet
Wendy
Honey
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cowboycereal · 6 months
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you actually have to take a class on rory gilmore and write an extensive thesis paper on the value of her character arc centering on making juvenile mistakes because she’s a young woman coming into her own for the first time and she’s not a saint or a demon but somewhere in between because she’s a complex person with flaws and positive qualities! yeah and once you pass the class you get a certificate and that’s when you’re allowed to talk about rory gilmore
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hanalwayssolo · 11 months
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5 years ago vs. today is wild 
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starions · 8 months
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it’s my bday 🫶 bg3 soon is my gift
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insomnihan · 7 months
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just went on a whole binge of listening to kpop songs from like four and two years ago.....................
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rhizomehaunt · 8 months
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a few things that have been nice about setting up study projects for myself that are sustained but still have reasonable limits (i.e., contained within the span of a month) that I purposefully don't share is figuring out what I do like and don't like to do, what processes are most effective for me, what I can learn but don't enjoy, what I didn't think I'd enjoy but after practicing find it pleasant, what frustrates me about my work, what excites me about my work, what I need further study to do effectively, and also perhaps importantly, what comes up for me when I finish a study I love and a study I hate, because it helps attune me to what's going on internally when I'm making art and trying new things, and keeping it private allows me to engage with all my own shit so I can give myself what I need and even have an idea what that looks like.
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