[ cw: death mention / family death mention / ]
Mhmm I sure love thinking of the reality where we did get more time to really know Karai and her dynamics with the bros. Losing her hit hard in the finale, but it would’ve hit much, much harder had we known Karai longer and really saw her relationships develop with everyone.
I especially would have been interested in her dynamic with Leo, as past iterations often have the two of them clash in ideals and the like while still sharing many characteristics. Two sides of the same coin, and all that. Her specifically being the bros’ Gram-Gram also adds a whole new dynamic as well.
Imagine how interesting it would be, to have Karai start off on Leo’s side for once, showing wholly just how alike the two are at their cores and bonding as family without the worry of betrayal or animosity that other iterations suffer through, only to have Karai die anyway. Their parting hug and the desperate look of horror Leo wears later on would have hit that much harder, I feel.
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Post Marineford spoilers nerds
You guys ever think about how in that small recovery arc after marineford that Luffy was still wearing the same shorts from the battle? Like, Law and the others could have lent him some clothes. Or idfk an old jump suit. Like. I know the pants were red but they would probably be black with the amount of blood that must of soaked those fuckers. His blood, Ace’s, Jimbe’s and the amount of corpses that must have been on the floor.
Do you think they still smelled of smoke, gun powder and blood? Do you think they made Luffy’s flashbacks worse? Do you think seeing his blood soaked yellow vest triggered him? What do you think happened to that outfit? He wasn’t wearing it when he returned to marineford. Maybe he burned it. Like stripping himself of that layer of himself or shedding his skin. Maybe it’s at the bottom of the ocean. A scar he could never rid of not forgotten but buried.
Idk man I’m just snowballing :)
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If you like Kuwei, whatever you do, just don’t think about how he probably grew up isolated from his peers because of his father’s status. How he probably took to reading because no one around him could spare a single second for him. How, when he and his father had to flee the country and were captured by the Fjerdans, he probably realized that what happened to him was a perfect backstory for a main character of some epic story. How, when he had to watch his father try to create a drug that could enslave and kill nearly all Grisha in the world, people just like the two of them, his biggest comfort came from the silly belief that at the end of his story, he too would have everything that he wanted — a family, a lover, a friend, just anyone who would finally care about him. Recognition. Joy. Love.
How, when his father died and he was left alone, a small, delusional, cruel part of him was almost sure that it was necessary for him to then be loved. How, when the Crows came for him, deep down, he fully expected them to be his new family. How, even when everyone was cold to him on the ship, he still tired to convince himself that it was because one of theirs was on the brink of death. How he dumbly tried to tell himself that they won’t actually turn him over to the merchant that wants him because they’re reasonable people. How he spent his days and nights in a cold tomb, pushing down the memories of his now dead father and his grim future, all alone, curled up in a corner.
How he had developed a crush on Jesper, bright, kind, warm Jesper, as if he could do anything else, and then had to watch helplessly as that ray of sunshine ignored him, as he got closer to the boy that had his face. How his skills and efforts were ignored just because what he might know seemed far more important to the people around him. How, not more than two days before the auction where his death would be faked, he got kissed by the man he began to adore and then was disliked for it by the only member of the team that actually tried to befriend him for a while.
How he had to stand tall in front of all the people, all those merchants, the royalty, the warriors, the guards, the farmers, the children, everyone, all the people who came to the Church of barter just to see who he’d be sold to. How he had to trust the six teens who only had qualms about killing him because he was worth a whole lot of money, with his life as different governments called out numbers that could feed the whole world for an entire lifetime. How the last thing that he could’ve seen before he died if the bullet that hit his chest missed his button even by a single hair, was the chaos ‘Brekker and his Crows’ started.
How, when he woke up, he barely had any time to calm down because one of the teens, the Drüskelle, was dead. How he now had to mourn him now, too, along with all that he lost. How, when he was laying down on the ship to pretend he’s dead, he realized that the people he saw as his saviors less than two months ago, and as the thing that he wanted more than life, didn’t care for him at all anymore. That they might even be happier if he died. How, as he neared the sea, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d let his one chance at happiness higher along the canal and that he was now destined for a life of despair.
How, when he arrived to the Little Palace, he wasn’t met with kindness or friendly faces. How he had to hide the fact that the thing he worked on day and night was the cure to a drug that his father had created, a drug that could’ve destroyed Grisha all around the world. How he was their only hope in the war against Fjerda. How he spent his nights awake dreaming of being a part of the family that the Crows clearly were. How he couldn’t seem to fit in anywhere he went.
Most importantly of all, don’t think about the fact that he’d been alone all his life.
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