#i will never see these characters the same way again

[sporesgalaxy]

The way Dungeon Meshi does gender makes me insane. It’s stated over and over that Falin and Laios really are more similar than anyone is looking for- Laios directly states as much at one point, Marcille mentions it when Falin wakes up the first time and starts bemoaning not eating any monsters, the magic mirror story even has fem!Toshiro crushing on Laios- but Laios is so protective of his little sister. Laios leaves home to start making a life he can one day share with her. And she leaves magic school because he has failed, and failed so hard that she’s worried that she might never see him again if she lets him leave without her. He wants to protect her from the way the world treats him, but he does not or does not want to understand the terrible truth- the world will never treat her as harshly as it does him, because she is a pretty ‘quirky’ girl and he is a big autistic man. Falin is happy, doing well in her own sphere, making a single friend (because she is still autistic, and has struggles of her own, even if they’re a different kind), but Laios still feels a need to protect her because his experience of this world has been nothing but cold shoulders and distrust all the way down. This story makes me want to sprint into the river. Laios and Falin are the best characters of all time.

Ouhhhhh I dont have time to reread dungeon meshi to give you good sources but based on my doodoo memory and vibes therein: I have to disagree that Falin was necessarily doing "well," and I especially disagree that the tragedy here is that Laios was doing something unnecessary by trying to make a place in the world for him and Falin.

Falin gets along seemingly ok in the world but it's because she's agreeable to a fault .

What's so interesting to me about the Touden siblings is the different ways they've learned to deal with being The Odd Man Out. Laios set out to try and forcefully carve out a PLACE for him and Falin in the world, where they could both openly and unabashedly be themselves.....Falin stayed behind, and learned how to hide the things that made her stick out too much, and how to appease people on the verge of rejecting her and Laios.

That can be functional, but it isn't good. It isn't happiness. It hurts in a million tiny ways every single day, to hide yourself out of fear of rejection like that.

At school, Falin must have spent a lot of time alone before she befriended Marcille, since Falin was familiar enough with the surrounding wilderness that she knew where that small Dungeon opening was. She sought out what happiness she could by following her unusual passions in more private ways, where no one would judge her for it. Falin didn't expect anyone NOT to judge her for her "weirdness" before she met Marcille, so Falin didn't even try to connect with anyone before Marcille at a level more personal than "classmate." That's not doing well. That's not living.

This kind of self-isolation is a coping mechanism for neurodivergence that functions for a while, but it eats away at you. Falin considered marrying Toshiro despite not loving him, essentially because it seemed like the normal thing to do and she didn't think she'd get another chance to be married at all. What if she had gone through with that, or something similar by the same reasoning? Laios lived in a state of being rejected over and over, which obviously hurts like hell. In contrast, Falin was willing to live a life she never wanted just to avoid total rejection. That can be incredibly painful too, in its own way.

Falin and Laios were BOTH tragically fighting doomed battles to find a place for themselves in the world during the time they were separated. Working together, supporting each other, they're able to do a lot more. Cries.

[uriekukistan]

In Defense of Shoko in 261

to be so honest, i’m really doing my best not to come off angry while talking about this. but to me this conversation is not just about shoko, but about the way women are treated in media, and especially in shounen manga in general.

people are upset about the way shoko reacted, or rather didn’t react, to yuuta’s plan because it seemed too unemotional and uncaring. if she had shown emotion or protested, people would still be upset because she would be seen as unable to do the necessary thing in a time of crisis due to her feminine emotions or whatever.

this is the dilemma of not just female characters, but real life women. there’s never a right reaction.

additionally i feel that some of the things being said about her are expecting her to only exist as support for gojo, and not as her own character, which i see way too often with female characters in shounen manga.

in any case, i stand by my cancelled wife, and here’s my defense of her. spoilers below the cut.

Since when has Shoko ever been outwardly emotional like that?

if shoko is upset about yuuta using gojo’s body as a weapon, there is just no way she would outwardly object or show any signs that she’s upset. that’s not who she is and she’s shown that. there have been several times where she’s not displayed the emotion one would expect from her, so why would that change now?

when shoko sees geto, one of her closest friends, if not her closest, for the first time after finding out that he massacred an entire village, you would expect her to be feeling a slew of emotions. maybe confusion, maybe anger, maybe hurt, maybe betrayal. maybe even concern for her friend.

but shoko acts like it’s no big deal at all. she’s just seeing her close friend on a regular day. because she’s not the type to get outwardly emotional. whatever she’s feeling right now is kept somewhere else entirely, far away from the surface.

additionally, in the scene where everyone got frustrated that gojo didn’t react about nanami, we have this from shoko.

talking about geto. not reacting. guys shoko is just not a reactive person like that, and that’s totally fine. a lot of people are like this (including myself but thats not the point)

but that doesn’t mean the emotions don’t exist, or that shoko has no way of reacting or coping or showing that she’s going through anything at all. one way is through smoking.

smoking is something shoko picks up again before the shibuya incident, when the entire jujutsu world is growing more stressed with the increased presence of special grades, particularly the disaster curses, the incident at the goodwill event…and at shibuya, the situation was very high stress, yet she keeps a cool demeanour. the only sign that she’s upset at all is that every time she’s shown, she’s smoking.

the only times we’ve seen shoko’s feelings, it’s been completely internal. the most notable being this scene:

this is the most emotional we’ve ever seen shoko, and if you’ll notice, she’s completely alone.

shoko keeps her feelings well hidden from everyone, so it’d be completely against her character to outwardly show if she was upset by yuuta’s plan.

Since when has Shoko shied away from questionable medical/jujutsu practices?

shoko was eager to dissect yuuji after he “died” like it was some sort of science project and not a human being…please note im saying this as a completely neutral statement, this is not to say whether shoko is a good or bad person, just that she is and how she is.

sure, it’s a bit questionable that she’s looking at a dead teenager on her table and wondering what information she can get out of him, but at the same time, there could be useful information in yuuji’s biology that shows what makes him a successful vessel, at least as far as shoko is aware. useful knowledge that could be used to find another suitable vessel to continue killing sukuna’s power, one finger at a time.

she even says to gojo “who do you think i am?” when he tells her to make her examination of yuuji worth it, implying that this is a trait that those around her are aware of.

she’s practical and methodical, logically thinking rather than emotionally thinking, but most importantly, she’s not the type to display her feelings.

she’s exactly the type to understand the reasoning behind yuuta’s plan and accept it as a logical last ditch effort, and she’s also the type to store her true feelings about it away to process over a cigarette (or several) at a more convenient time. asking her to do anything else would be asking her to change as a character.

i hope this doesn’t come across as me being unsympathetic to gojo’s dehumanization and being turned into a weapon, i think it’s upsetting for sure (but i respect the narrative choice, i think it’s an interesting way to bring out themes). mostly, i think that shoko, both by the narrative and by the fandom, is only perceived in geto & gojo’s shadow, and i wanted to draw attention to her as a person.

i’m sick of reading the “shoko’s a cold-hearted traitor” comments on different platforms bc i think it’s not true, and i think asking her to act differently removes her autonomy as a character and forces her to be nothing but a supporting role to gojo, rather than her own character.

hopefully this makes some sense dkskld

[imawholeassmood]

Read Between the Lines

read it on ao3

Lena reads the review, rubs her temples a few times, then reads it again. There is no way Super_Girl has rated this book five stars and then wrote multiple paragraphs waxing poetic about how fantastic it was. Lena already submitted her own one-star review which included her breakdown of the writing, the characters, and the plot, of which this book had none.

For months, Lena has been seeing Super_Girl reviews pop up on the same books Lena recently finished. She wondered at this point if Super_Girl might be doing this on purpose – reading the same books just so she could rate the book the opposite of whatever Lena did. At first, it was simple - “Loved it!” or “Couldn’t get into this one,” but as of late, the reviews had gotten longer and more descriptive.

Lena herself always used the same formula for reviewing books: overall star rating with a breakdown of her thoughts on the characters, the plot, and the writing. Books, like most things in life, are easy to rate when you understand the evaluation system. Books follow formulas and rules for a reason – it’s what makes them good. A romance novel, for instance, requires a “happily ever after.” Without it, it cannot be considered a romance, and it certainly wouldn’t be a good one.

So, as Lena reads the latest review by Super_Girl, Lena can’t help but leave a comment. Maybe this person simply needs an education on the book rating system.

“What criteria do you use when rating a book?”

It’s a good starting place for this conversation. Lena has amassed quite the following with people interested in her book reviews and the last thing she wants to do is stir up internet drama to damage her good reputation. She knows how easy it is for people to take something out of context.

The reply comes almost immediately.

“Vibes!”

Lena blinks a few times, then closes the browser and leaves her laptop for the night.

**

Super_Girl does it again with another five-star rating for a book that made Lena seriously consider contacting the literary award agencies to complain about their selection. The book sounded like it was AI generated and had zero plot. And the characters? Don’t even get her started.

“How can you consider this a masterpiece?” she writes under the review. “There is zero substance in this book. It’s just a bunch of flowery words that mean nothing and make no sense. If this is your idea of romance, then I’d hate to be your girlfriend.”

Her phone rings and Lena spends the next hour talking with her assistant, Jess, about the priorities for the week and when they can finalize some presentations. Later, as she lays in bed scrolling on her phone, Lena thinks to check her goodreads account. There, under her latest comment, is a reply from Super_Girl.

“Amidst the turmoil of the crumbling world around them, two people take the time to write love letters to each other. What’s more romantic than that?

I want to meet you in every place I have loved.

I want to be in contact with you.

Swoon.”

Speaking of taking things out of context.

While Lena can see Super_Girl’s point, that’s not enough to change her mind about the book. Especially not in the context of it being a sci-fi fantasy that relegated war to a backdrop in much the same way Hollywood did with Pearl Harbor. Don’t get her started. She types out a response before closing the webpage and going to sleep.

“Relationships develop over time. Even if I agreed with your assessment, this book still lacked any real narrative and there’s zero reason to believe these two people would fall in love. They don’t know anything about each other except that they can write a decent letter.”

**

Oh, no, Lena thinks. Her latest read has her questioning her entire belief system about books. She liked the book. Not because it had a great plot. Not because she was rooting for the characters. She liked the book because…it gave her good vibes. She genuinely had a good time reading it, despite it being a complete shitshow. This never happened to her before.

She opens her goodreads page to leave her review and finds that Super_Girl hasn’t read this one yet. She feels the slightest pang of disappointment but pushes through to her review. At the end of her standard format, she adds a new category: vibes.

It takes a few days, and Lena finds herself checking her account every few hours. She’s sitting at her desk and scrolling on her phone when she gets a notification that Super_Girl commented on her review.

“Vibes?!?! I’m SUPER proud of you! And we agree the characters were awful and the plot was weak, but it was well-written.”

She doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Jess comments about it.

“Oh, nothing,” she says and waves her hand. “Just a literary rival.”

Jess looks at her. “You’re smiling because of…a rival?”

Is that what they were? The word didn’t really feel like a good fit, but Lena goes with it.

“Agreed with me on a point. Can we please stay focused?”

And they do. Lena and Jess go over the latest reports and prepare for an upcoming meeting with one of their international partners. Lena doesn’t think about Super_Girl again until she’s lying in bed and that damn smile creeps backs onto her face.

**

Her next review is not a good one. It makes Lena question the romance genre as a whole. Has the world become so used to being treated like garbage, people can’t even tell the difference between healthy and toxic love?

She’s barely hit submit when Super_Girl comments on her review.

“They were flirting the whole time!”

Lena is still sour enough she doesn’t bother to hold back on her response.

“Flirting where? Being in each other’s orbit is not flirting. Why can’t people just say, ‘I like you and I’d like to go on a date with you?’ instead of whatever BS was happening in this book. Honestly, I’m worried for your love life if you think this is a healthy way to approach communication.”

Super_Girl goes silent for a long while after that.

Lena worries something may have happened and questions whether she should reach out. They haven’t gone this long without a reciprocal review since they started this little dance of theirs almost a year ago. She finds herself rereading their reviews and wondering about who Super_Girl might be behind the screen name. There’s no profile photo, no personal information at all. Just a single word.

Golly.

Lena smiles at that. In fact, she smiles at everything Super_Girl has written. While they may not agree on books, Lena can’t deny that whoever is behind the reviews is a wordsmith who comes across as the sweetest human on the planet.

It surprises her when she receives a notification that she has been selected to read a new release ahead of publication in exchange for an honest review. Lena doesn’t usually agree because she doesn’t want to give people any reason to think her reviews are biased or influenced in any way. She’s about to deny the request, but the cover art depicts two women, one blonde, the other brunette, and Lena never turns down a sapphic story. She accepts the request without another thought.

**

When Lena finishes The Write Stuff, she starts it over and reads it again, cover to cover. The writing, the pacing, and the storytelling are superb. It’s as if the author has studied every article about how a romance novel should be written. The characters are so well written, she has clear images of who each of these women are. She understands their desires, their fears, and their motives. Not only does she care about these people as a couple, but she also cares about them individually in a way she hasn’t cared about a character in a long time. As for the plot itself? It’s perfectly cheesy and still somehow realistic enough to be believable that it could happen in real life.

Lena hasn’t felt this…satisfied by a book since well, since she can’t remember.

So, that’s exactly what she writes in her review.

“I especially loved this line:

I would rewrite history if it meant a chance for a happy future with you.”

When she’s done, she looks up the author and finds that she’s written one other book.

Lena doesn’t recall reading it, but when she clicks on the title, she finds her review posted with a few hundred likes and several dozen comments. One star and zero positive things to say about it. Lena can’t help but think how far the author has come from this first book to the most recent one. It’s an impressive improvement, and Lena Luthor isn’t easily impressed.

Supergirl leaves a comment on her review a few days later.

“It looks like the author has been paying attention to your feedback.”

**

The following week, Lena is staring at the meeting invitation with furrowed brows and a healthy dose of confusion. She presses the call button on the speaker on her desk.

“Yes, Miss Luthor?” Jess says.

“Jess, why do I have a meeting with Supergirl on my calendar?”

Jess is quiet for a moment. She’s quiet so long, in fact, that Lena’s door opens and a blond woman with thick-rimmed glasses wearing chinos and a tucked-in button down steps just inside. She has a nervous smile and fidgets with her glasses.

Lena recognizes her from the photo bio she still has pulled up on her web browser and stands to greet her.

“Miss Danvers,” she says, “please, come in. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Kara Danvers, author of The Write Stuff, who Lena has been internet stalking for the past week shifts in the doorway. Lena comes around the front of her desk. They stare at each other in silence for a moment before Lena hears a faint “go” from Jess in the reception area. That makes Kara shake out of her stupor.

She brings her hand out from behind her back and holds her arm at full length with a bouquet of…plumerias. Lena can’t believe what she’s seeing. Her favorite flowers which represent love and new beginnings are being offered to her by this stunning woman who wrote one of her favorite books of the year. Lena looks from the flowers back to Kara’s face.

“I like you, Lena Reads” Kara says, “and I would like to go on a date with you.”

[runabout-river]

Yuji's accumulated Trauma

After Choso's death, I've been thinking about Yuji's reaction to it. At first glance, it looks mature and composed and obviously Yuji doesn't have the time and privilege to grieve. More importantly, Gege didn't give Yuji any panel time to be distraught; his aniki's death scene was over pretty fast. The 3000 Shibuya deaths in conjunction with Nanami's and Nobara's deaths on the other hand had been given more time and more impact afterwards.

The difference in reaction between those two times makes sense in context but, in my opinion, not with Yuji being mature and composed about it.

Because Yuji never got over Nanami's and Nobara's death, he didn't heal from that, instead, he had a negative character arc where the trauma of their deaths affected his world view and mentality in significantly bad ways.

He started to think of himself as a cog in a machine and he also identified with Mahito, the curse who killed both his friend and his mentor figure, a villain and his personal antagonist. Yuji did not overcome Mahito in Shibuya, the story makes us forget that often times. He was marked and changed by Mahito and even though that curse ended up with an extremely pathetic death that didn't mean that he hadn't broken something inside Yuji.

The only time where Yuji constructively dealt with that trauma was in his fight against Higuruma but that was only about his guilt over letting Sukuna kill 3000 people with his body. And it didn't get resolved completely, at least not in a way that would've helped with dealing with Nobara's and Nanaimi's death too.

Yuji is taking that trauma from Shibuya, his feelings of weakness and guilt, and he puts them into believing himself to be a machine that has to follow a predetermined path. Before Sukuna took over Megumi, that meant being suicidal when the situation called for it. Yuji wanted his life to make sense again and dying so Angel would've her wish of seeing Sukuna dead to save Gojo perfectly fit into that.

After Sukuna possessed Megumi, his path and role stayed the same except killing himself directly was off the table but that tendency still exists inside of him. If he were to be presented a way to defeat Sukuna while saving Megumi at the same time where he would die as a result he would take that path immedietaly without hesitation.

Back to Choso's death. In my view, this unresolved trauma and his lack of will to live lead to an unhealthy coping mechanism: thinking of his friends and allies as already dead. We can see that when he asked Megumi if Nobara had survived Shibuya.

He knew that there was a slim chance she survived but it was so low that she was basically dead. When Megumi confirmed her fate, Yuji was prepared for it. Prepared to receive the bad news so instead of crying again he could function like the cog he was supposed to be.

And this Mahito-infused cog mentality still follows him until now. He has to function so his role can be fullfilled and when that means he has to think of his friends as having already been killed so he would never break again then that's what he's going to do.

He did not despair over Choso's death, he despaired because it looked like he was alone and on the verge of defeat against Sukuna. His role was breaking just like his reason to live and I think that this mentality, his negative character arc, will find it's conclusion at the end of the Sukuna fight.

This fight is not the end of the manga, we still have the merger to deal with, there is still a big arc with smaller ones in between coming at us. But for Yuji something big has to happen, probably something pretty bad that has him crushed... at first.

At the end of it, he will finally deal with all his loss and his trauma in a good and healthy way and leave his life as a cog and being a human Mahito behind. Then he might finally shed the tears that were missing in chapter 259.

[aeithalian]

Apollo and the demonization of power

I graduated and I'm back on my shit, y'all.

I saw this post by @apollosgiftofprophecy (hi Alder) about whether or not Apollo should have stayed mortal instead of regaining his godhood, and may I just say I 1000000% agree.

To summarize the post: if Apollo had chosen to stay mortal, his promise to Jason (to remember what it means to be mortal/human) wouldn't have meant nearly the same as if he'd gone back to Olympus. Regaining his godhood allowed him to chose to help people with his full ability and remember his humanity for however long it takes for him to fade.

And if I may add on: Apollo even talks about maybe choosing to stay mortal at some point in the latter half of the series, but eventually comes to the conclusion that to chose to stay mortal would be akin to running away from his problems. And he's right: if he chose to stay mortal, he wouldn't have to face Zeus again and he could shirk his responsibilities as an Olympian. So he decides against it (not that he really ever has the chance to chose). And I just love to take this as a great moment of character development and an insane amount of self-awareness for somebody who started their arc where he did.

But it also got me thinking. And, in short, I came to the conclusion that Apollo must be an idealist simply by the way he views power.

In this case, fiction reflects reality: villains want power. They want control. They want to squash rebellion. And that, typically, is an occurrence we typically only see with villains. Never with the heroes, who rarely want power outside of defeating their enemy. But here we have Apollo, who spends the entire series literally seeking power in his attempt to regain his godhood.

And that has morphed into something really interesting when it comes to representation of power in classical media. More often than not, power is demonized. It's seen as something inherently evil. If a character wants power for themselves, they're likewise seen as evil. Any one of your classical antagonists are going to, at some point in their stories, want power in any which way it presents itself. Voldemort of Harry Potter wanted to live forever. Sauron of Lord of the Rings wanted the Ring of Power. Palpatine of Star Wars wanted control of the galaxy. Zeus wants to rule the Olympians. The list goes on.

On the other hand, in stories where a protagonist seeks power to destroy their opponent, they eventually end up discarding their items of power because they don't want to be 'corrupted'. Harry Potter refused to use the Elder Wand. Frodo destroyed the Ring of Power. Luke Skywalker turned down the Dark Side. Even Percy Jackson declined godhood.

But Rick, in writing Apollo's character, takes an interesting approach and a fun subversion of this trope that I, for one, absolutely love. Previously, he'd written Percy to turn down godhood because he primarily wanted to maintain his humanity. To Percy, being a god and being human are two mutually exclusive concepts. They don't coexist. For Apollo, on the other hand, he accepts power out of a sense of duty, and vows to use it well in the spirit of his promise to Jason. There is no demonization of power. And to Apollo, humanity and godhood are not exclusive concepts. So what does that mean post-trials?

There are two perspectives at battle here. First is demonization: 'power is inherently evil'. But the idea that power corrupts is not necessarily a fact: in my opinion, power in and of itself isn't evil. Yes, it's dangerous, but it's more or less a blank slate. What you do with power, who you are when you have it, is what defines it. And that's a pretty nuanced take, and it comes with its ups and downs, requiring those powerful protagonists to be your most responsible, most dutiful, most kind characters who take up the mantle of power with the full understanding of what it means. Who's to say that you can't achieve power and use it well? So there's the other perspective: 'power is a blank slate'.

Let's look at power from a Zeus vs. Apollo perspective:

Zeus wants power (or at the very least, to maintain his power) as a way of controlling people, squashing rebellion, and maintaining order in the way he sees fit, without any sense of legitimate justice or care for others. It is Zeus' actions that make him evil, not his power.

Apollo, on the other hand, seeks power as a way of solving problems, creating solutions that benefit the greatest amount of people possible, and creating a lasting difference on others to change for the better, just as he did. More often than not, when he reminisces about having power in the series, it's more out of a place of 'this terrible thing wouldn't have happened if I were a god', or 'I could help better if I were a god'. Never once does he view power as a way of controlling or manipulating others. Power, to Apollo, is just the ability to love to the greatest extent possible (re: my meta on Apollo's fatal flaw).

But the interesting thing here is how Apollo views power in general, outside of his own. The idea of demonizing power doesn't even occur to him, despite the fact that he's been the subject of abuse for millennia. What's fascinating to me is the fact that Apollo, having been hurt so often by Zeus' power, doesn't ascribe that same generalization to his own person.

I find that very interesting: abuse does wacky shit to people's brains. By all means, that should have irrevocably changed Apollo's perspective on power as a whole, right? Not if you've learned to view power as something that is part of you, no.

I don't know how other gods besides Apollo view their own power, I actually think it's accurate to say that gods view power as something inherent to their nature. And, honestly, maybe it is. But that's besides the point.

Regardless of whether or not power is inherent to gods, Apollo, throughout his journey, realizes that it must go hand in hand with responsibility and humanity. Power is a privilege. That 'blank slate' perspective is one he learned in his trials, the knowledge that the power he has is something he shapes, and something he has no excuse for. If power is inherent, all of Apollo's wrongdoings are his own failings.

And that's even more interesting when you relate it to his relationship with Zeus. Apollo must likewise know that Zeus' wrongdoings are solely his fault, not a result of his power. It's a fascinating perspective of power coming from somebody who has none, who's been hurt by somebody who has so much. To maintain that optimistic view of power as non-corrosive when faced with your abuser is, I think, the glaring mark of an idealist.

So, what does this mean post-trials?

I think, along the same vein, there is a point where the idealist breaks. They have a glimpse of reality: all is not well. For Apollo, that's at the end of the series where he decides that Zeus is beyond all hope. Take this quote from the Tower of Nero:

Some fathers don't deserve [reconciliation]. Some aren't capable of it. I suppose I could have raged at him and called him bad names. We were alone. He probably expected it. Given his awkward self-consciousness at the moment, he might have even let me get away with it unpunished. But it would not have changed him. It would not have made anything different between us. You cannot change a tyrant by trying to out-ugly him.

More often than not, my favorite stories are the ones where the main character gains power, keeps it, and uses it for good. Aragorn accepted the crown of Gondor. Luke Skywalker chose to train a new order of Jedi. Apollo regained his godhood. And readers of any of my multichap fics know that I love to write this trope as well.

But, much like my mutuals and I have been yelling from the rooftops for LITERAL YEARS, Apollo's story is not over. And once the idealist has 'broken', like we see in the scene above, there's only one way it could go.

To see somebody mishandling their power in a way an idealist knows is corrupt is quite literally a recipe for revolution. Look me in the eye and tell me that the way ToA finished wasn't setting up a revolution. Do it, I dare you.

Regardless, it's safe to say that, at some point, somebody's going to take a look at Zeus and say "you know what? Anybody could do better." Just saying.

Anyways, vive la révolution.

[a masterlist of my other metas]

[thatacotargirl]

To the Ends of the Earth (2)

You asked for a part 2 to this, and part 2 you shall get!

Part 1 is here!

As always, inbox is open for requests for any ACOTAR characters.

Tagging @mybestfriendmademe for the kind request, thank you for your continued support angel 💖

Divider from the one and only @tsunami-of-tears! 💜

A Cassian x Reader Imagine

You wake with a groan. Your stomach was more settled and your head more calm, but a day full of agonising pain isn't the most conducive to a restful nights sleep. Rolling over, you are greeted by an empty bed.

It's hard not to feel a smidge of disappointment that Cassian didn't stay the night. You could have sworn that, last night, you'd heard him finally admit his feelings for you - the same feelings you'd harboured for countless years. Maybe your love wasn't as unrequited as you had once thought.

Dragging yourself up and out of bed, grateful to have not soiled your bedding once again, you head into the bathroom to freshen up and ready yourself for the day. The scent of Cassian still lingered on your clothes and it took everything in you to rip the shirt off your body and throw it in with the pile of dirty laundry.

Had Cassian really said that? Or had you dreamt it? Surely if Cassian really felt that way, he would have stayed? Or did he not realise you'd heard him? Did you hear him?!

You looked in the mirror and pouted at yourself. You were spiralling. Over a male, no less. Shaking off the thoughts, you got yourself washed and dressed, and headed to the dining room for breakfast.

-

Cassian and Azriel were already sat at the table, a bowl of porridge in front of them, chatting away. When you entered, both males fell silent.

"Good morning!" you called cheerily, setting yourself down at the table as the House placed a bowl of porridge in front of you.

"Morning, y/n. How are you feeling?", Azriel asked, shovelling another mouthful of porridge in mid-sentence.

"Better thanks, not 100% but better".

You glanced at Cassian, but he simply nodded into his porridge, avoiding eye contact with you. Huh?

"Thanks for you help, Cass", you offer him a smile - only to find it is met with indifference.

"Welcome", he replied, not even offering a glance up to you. You gaze over to Azriel, who simply shrugged, but you couldn't help noticing the small smirk he had on his face, and the sly nod he made in Cassian's direction. Cassian remained silent, finishing his breakfast faster than he has before, and left the table without Azriel, and without a goodbye.

"What was that about?!"

Azriel's smirk only grows bigger. He knows something, and I'd bet my right hand it has to do with Cassian taking care of me yesterday.

"Perhaps you should find out", Azriel offers, the smirk never leaving his lips.

Is that a challenge? I think it is. And if it's a challenge Cassian wants, it's a challenge he's going to get.

About an hour later, you find yourself heading up to the training ring atop the House of Wind. You have no intention of training today, still going through the throes of your cycle, but a little light stretching never hurt anyone. And, if you happen to be in the skimpiest pair of shorts you own, and the tightest sports bra barely holding you in, whilst Cassian is stood across the ring, that's just a coincidence - right?

Laying out your mat, you start some yoga poses, careful not to make eye contact with the Illyrian brothers sparring opposite you. Even without making eye contact, you can feel Cassian's gaze burning into your soul. You hear a sudden thump, and raise an eye to see Cassian sprawled on the mat, Azriel victorious on top of him.

"Distracted, brother?", Azriel asks mischievously. You have to hold back a giggle, carrying out another pose that you know makes everything stick out in all the right places. You hear Cassian huff, and watch discreetly as they start their sparring match again.

You stay for an hour, stretching out your muscles and working on some core balance, before rolling up your mat.

"Later boys", you call, throwing a wink in their direction. Azriel laughs, waving you off, but Cassian remains frozen solid - not daring to glance in your direction. It doesn't change the heady scent of arousal that wafts in your direction as you spin on your heels though, which takes on a distinct sandalwood tone, the same that had clung to your shirt last night.

Feeling pretty confident, based on Azriel's behaviour today and Cassian's response at the training ring, you decide to kick it up a notch.

You run yourself a bubble bath - which is realistically more bubbles than it is water - and settle yourself in. Cleaning off the sweat from your hour long yoga session, you wait patiently, listening for the distinctive heavy footsteps of the Illyrian General.

When you hear them walking down the hallway, you make your move.

"Is someone out there?", you call. You hear Cassian's footsteps stop outside your door.

"Y/n? All ok?", he calls back cautiously.

Carefully situating yourself so you are completely covered by the bubbles from the neck down, you smirk to yourself.

"Not really - I've got myself in a bit of a pickle and I can't reach it!".

You hear Cassian open your bedroom door and stifle your laugh when he pauses, clearly confused as to where you are.

"Can't reach what?"

"The shampoo, Cass. Give a girl a hand?"

You can almost hear his breathing from how deep it is in the adjoining room.

"Why can't you get it?"

"Why, because I'm all wet silly! Rhys won't be happy if I damage his floor by getting it soaked". You knew it was a bold-faced lie, the House would dry the floor instantly for you. He could correct you, he could tell you that the House would dry the floor, or that the House would even get the bottle for you if you asked it to. Or, he could walk in and give it to you. The choice was his.

You waited, almost giving up, before you saw the doorknob to the bathroom turning. Cassian walked into the room, hands over his eyes, as he reached out blindly to your shelves.

"This one?" he asks, holding up a body lotion.

"Nope"

"This one?" he asked, holding up a bottle of perfume.

"Cass, please just pass me my shampoo".

Cassian turns his back to you, making sure he can't see, before locating the shampoo and passing it to you without looking. You can see how hard his body is moving from his deep breathing.

"Thanks Cass".

"Yep, ok, good, welcome, is, um, is that all?"

He's flustered.

"Yes, thank you".

Then he ran, so fast he almost tripped on the carpet, out of the bathroom - your laughter following in his wake.

As evening approached, you began to get frustrated. You had spent the entire day taunting him, trying to get him to react, and the most you had got out of him was a blush.

You knew you weren't wrong - Cassian had some sort of feelings for you - and you wanted to know what they were. But, if he was going to play this hard to get, it was more than just a challenge you'd taken on - it was a damn suicide mission. You had to hit it in the one place he wouldn't be able to handle. You'd have to fight fire with fire.

As the Inner Circle gathered around the dinner table that night, exchanging stories of their day, your eyes fell to Azriel. He looked at you, confusion marring his face, until he saw your eyes glance over to Cassian, then back to him. His shadows, whirling around his face, filled him in on the rest of your plan; and Azriel smirked, leaning back in his chair.

Dinner was swiftly finished and everyone descended to the sofas in the main living room of the House, glasses of wine and whiskey in hand. You waited until Cassian was seated opposite Azriel, settled with his glass, before you made your move.

Sauntering up to Azriel, you gave him a smile, and sat down on his lap before taking a small sip of your wine. His legs moved, accommodating you, so you could lean against his chest. You didn't dare look up at Cassian, but you could feel the stares from the rest of your family, who were absolutely baffled about the scene unfolding in front of them.

"How about a drinking game?", you suggested, your voice cheeky and mischievous.

"Heck yeah!" Mor replied, "how about truth or dare? If you don't answer the truth or do the dare, you drink".

"Sounds great! Mor, you go first".

A few rounds went by and soon you were all in fits of laughter. Cassian had flown around the House of Wind entirely naked, Feyre had taken a shot of whiskey off of Rhysand's body, and Elain had admitted her crush on Lucien - much to everyone's whooping and excitement, and Elain's sheer mortification. Soon, it was Azriel's turn to ask you a question, and you saw the wicked gleam in his eye before he even opened his mouth.

"Y/n. I dare you to kiss me".

You gape at him, still seated in his lap. You can feel Cassian's gaze blaring at the back of your head as you turn to face Azriel. He winks at you knowingly, and you feel your confidence rising.

"Very well, I'm not one to turn down a dare".

You begin to slowly lean in to Azriel, eyes closed, before you are suddenly hoisted into the air. You open sharply, and realise you are staring down over Cassian's shoulder. You look up and see Azriel laughing on the sofa, Feyre in stitches on the floor, and Rhysand with a beaming smile on his face.

You stay silent as you let Cassian carry you up to his bedroom. He places you on the floor, his face red with fury.

"What the fuck was that about? Do you have feelings for Az?"

It was so comical, you couldn't help but laugh. Cassian stared at you absolutely bewildered.

"What's so funny?"

"He was doing it to wind you up, Cass; we were both in on it, I've been doing it all day".

"But why?"

You felt your own face flood red then, eyes on the floor as you fiddled with you hands.

"I heard you. Last night".

Cassian froze.

Several minutes went by in silence.

"Did ... did you mean it?"

Several more minutes went by before you dared to look up, your eyes meeting Cassian's. You saw the guarded look in them, his eyes searching yours. Clearly, they found what they were looking for, because his entire body softened.

"I meant every word of it".

You lunged at him, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck as he hoisted you up and into his chest. You both stayed like that, holding each other for some time. When you lifted your head from his shoulder, you noticed he was smiling, his eyes swimming with love and adoration. You felt a warmth in your heart that you'd never felt before, and clung to him tighter, resting your head back on his shoulder with a sigh.

"I'd go to the ends of the Earth for you too, Cass".

[sigmasemen]

“NOT LIKE THAT.”

sae itoshi x reader

— tags: NSFW, slowburn smut, very short one shot, grinding, first time, established relationship, gender neutral!reader, sub!reader, dom!sae.

— taglist: n/a currently.

— characters: sae itoshi, reader.

— word count: 909.

— extra notes: this is a repost from my thread from here, but i still haven’t written a part two. definitely not as fancy since it was originally a twitter thread.

sae never considered himself a sexual person. of course, he had urges like any other person would. that was human. but anytime a person on his team would loudly talk about how they had a fling for the night, sae would tighten his expression before looking away.

so having a partner wasn’t much different at first. romantically and schedule wise, yes. but they hadn’t gone any farther than a few longer kisses on the couch by the 3 month mark. 

if you cut open sae’s skull and checked into his mind to see the reason, you would find the fleshy mush of his brain. romantically though, you would see an almost awkward romantic feeling. not feeling like you’re good at anything (beyond soccer) included sex.

so… could he pleasure someone else? 

that thought was small. he wasn’t thinking about it every waking second. not knowingly at least. so when he was resting on the couch after a long day of practice, being hit with the noise of water hitting the floor didn’t trigger that.

the only physical response he had to that was shifting.

the only verbal response he had to that was a hum.

the only mental response he had to that was a clear image of his partner’s body. and with a delayed response, his body shot up and his hands gripped the couch. 

sae crossed his legs (for undisclosed reasons) and tapped his arm rapidly. fuck him and fuck everything. 

was he supposed to sit and deal with it? handle it on his own? ask them about it?

all were way too embarrassing. it almost felt like it would be better to crumble on the couch and ignore it.

still, the image persisted. it grew more clear and even turned into a scene. sae couldn’t sit here and wait. he forced himself up and into the bathroom, opening the door slowly and closing his eyes as he walked in. 

“can i come in?”

“…you’re already in?” a soft laugh from his partner. it was making that image beckon him. “did you need something?”

should he try to fire off an excuse? “can i join you?” he might as well do what came naturally to him, plainness.

“oh.” there was a bit of stuttering that came out, then a nervous laugh, “yeah! uh, come right ahead.” 

sae pried his eyes open at that. the fog on the glass made it impossible to make out anything beyond a silhouette of them. it only urge him to strip himself at a quickened pace. a pace that got him in the shower within a minute.

it was worth it to force himself up because he couldn’t stop staring. not just at their chest or ass, everywhere. he wished in that moment to have photographic memory. he’d just have to settle for memorizing their body with his hands.

a hand reached out to their hips, dragging them closer. his chest pressed against their back and his eyes stuck to their neck. it was impossible to look at them directly.

“sae..?”

“you look nice.” 

“just nice?”

“i—” he let out something that was a mix of a weak laugh and a shaky sigh. “stunning. beautiful. i like seeing you like this.”

“i could say the same. i haven’t… we haven’t seen each other like this. i know we’ve seen each other topless but…”

“this is more intimate.” 

another moment of quiet. sae didn’t know how to continue with them. he had to try at least. push out that worry of not being able to satisfy.

his hand grasped their hip, then slowly moved up towards their chest. with no clue what to do, he squeezed. a gentle one, only enough to elicit a yelp. his eyes stuck on their expression. he didn’t even notice himself move closer when he squeezed again. 

“trace your finger sae, please.”

sae didn’t need to be told twice. his finger delicately traced around their nipple. the pants only grew louder. they bent forward to hold themself up against the wall. sae couldn’t help but kiss the liquid draining down their back. he also couldn’t help his finger inching closer to rub their nipples in circular motions.

“more, more…” the motions grew faster. their noises only became more clear. weaker. he couldn’t stop himself. sae moved his spare arm around them. his dick pressed right against their back. 

“i love your body,” it was stated as a fact, “i wish i could say it more. i think you deserve more than just a few kisses.”

“then give me more.”

“…maybe when we’re out of the shower.”

“you’re gonna get me to come from only stimulation on my chest?” they laughed, “i need you sae. i need—”

sae pulled them into a kiss. not a particularly good one, but the desperation of how firm he was pressing was enough to make up for that. the weak noises from both sides was enough to drive them both crazy. he needed them in every way, they needed him in every way.

they were the first to pull away. breathless with sore lips. “i want more. i need more.” 

“can we move this to the bedroom instead?”

“we’d have to dry off after this.”

“i can change the sheets after. can you let me enjoy more of you?”

“as long as you let me enjoy more of you.”

and for the first time in a long time, sae said the word, “please.”

[firestarishomophobic]

MOONPAWPOOL MAP CALL

first MAP i have ever hosted i'm quite excited. this is a super chill super informal Moonpaw x Moonpool MAP open to beginners and experienced animators. message/comment here or on youtube.

Song: Rusalka Rusalka/Wild Rushes by the Decemberists

RULES:

All the normal MAP rules, be nice, no bigotry, etc etc. Be reasonable. 

This is a very loose and informal map. There are no set character designs. I’ve never hosted a map before and this is just for funsies. 

Beginners welcome! 

AMV or PMV. Just no lyrics on screen.

You can use ANY design of Moonpaw. If it is not your own, credit the designer. 

Same with the Moonpool! The Moonpool can look like a cat or can just look like water. Up to you! 

Send the finished version to me as a google drive file. 

I’m gonna limit 2-3 parts per person depending upon how many people want to join. 

PLEASE join the discord server! If you have a part, I will require you to join or else have a steady means of communication with me. Here is the link: https://discord.gg/utkwuKEV (spectators welcome!)

I would like to see a WIP 2 weeks after your part is assigned. I can talk about due dates as the WIPS come in. I know we all have lives. 

There is a very LOOSE script here. This is all for fun since it’s not even canon. 

PARTS 1-3: Moonpaw at the Moonpool. She has not actually gone into the water yet.

PART 4: Moonpaw walks in the first time. She only wades in about halfway up her legs. 

PARTS 5-7: Moonpaw in the water only halfway up her legs, like in part 4. 

PART 8: Moonpaw walks in as far as her chest. 

PART 9-10: Mooonpaw is in as far as her chest. These parts are very open to interpretation since they are instrumental, but I think it would be a lot of fun to do something with the Moonpool swimming around her, or doing something cool with stars! 

PART 11-14: Still should only be as far as her chest. 

PART 15: Moonpaw walks in as far as her chin. 

PART 15-17: You get it. Only as far as her chin. 

PART 18: However you want it to happen, Moonpaw goes all the way in! Underneath! 

PARTS 18-21: In my head she is drowning here, or going deeper and deeper. Once again, very open to interpretation.

OPEN PARTS: 

PART1: @rainbowdragontail

PART 2: @oaktrex

PART 3:

PART 4: @thylacid

PART 5:

PART 6: @limepooll

PART 7:

PART 8: @raveneyeart

PART 9: @moonpawmybeloved

PART 10: @limepooll

PART 11:

PART 12: theevilmeow (youtube)

PART 13: theevilmeow (youtube)

PART 14: 

PART 15:

PART 16:

PART 17:

PART 18: @trannydragon

PART 19: @trannydragon

PART 20: @skuffypaw

PART 21: @rainbowdragontail

[pleasepress1forfrontdesk]

The Chains Are Heavy

(Levi's long awaited backstory, finally)

Special thanks to everyone who has been following and rp with me. You really have helped make this character more than he was meant to be.

(@fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency @tired-sayaka-ada @never-gets-sick @oscarsgallery @city-of-c0rpses @v-extreme-diminuendo @kijimha )

How did I get here again? It could all have been a simple life for me, but it wasn't. Ever since I became 10, I was rob. Robbed of my family, friends, goals, dreams, my childhood, and most importantly my innocence.

Not just my innocent mentally, but literally too. I lost my innocence of being a civil. They all hate me now. Rightfully so. After all I have been nothing but a danger to everyone around me. All I did was make things worse. This war could have ended quicker if it way for me....

How did I get here again....

Foul Ball

It all started on March 22, a day after my birthday and two days after my best buddy's birthday, Cooper. We have been friends since daycare and being in the nursery at church. Cooper was a year younger than me, he was a wild kid, always taking things to the risk or the extreme. Super fast as well, faster than all of the kids on the playground, running was one of his passions. Cooper once told me that when he grows up he'll become a track star. As silly as it sound he had my full support, because you could never say no to Cooper. You could never tell him what to do.

I on the other hand was the balance for Cooper's wild behavior. Much more soft spoken and tame for a 10 year old. I may have not been the fastest runner, but I sure did have a good arm at throwing things. I had a goal, to become the world's best baseball player. It was my dream after all, to be on the professional teams and be famous. I wanted to make my mom proud

I must admit some of my behavior is like that, mostly because I was a mommas boy. It was just her and I after all, which I didn't mind. Though sometimes Cooper would joke that his dad, who was also single, should marry my mom so that we can be brothers and live together. I always told him that we wouldn't need legal documents in order to be brothers. As long as we stick together we will always be brothers.

Well that promise didn't last long... Cooper and I wear out in the front yard of my house, playing baseball as usual. I was using my new metal bat that I got for my birthday, it was much stronger than my old wooden bat. We were having a fun time, Cooper was about to throw the ball until he arm suddenly dropped and let go of the ball.

"What's wrong?" I asked as I turned my head to see what Cooper was now looking at. My eyes widen and I start to feel the same sense of fear that Cooper might be feeling. Two black cars parked in my driveway, and five government agents came out of them. My heart skips a beat. It can't be.

I watched as the knocked on the front door of my home, my mom answering it a second later. The government agents start talking to her, and even though I couldn't hear what they were saying, I could tell by the look on mom's face that this way good.

Cooper tugged on my sleeve. "You don't think the president actually signed that bill right?..." Cooper looked worried now, and I so was I. I clenched my fist into my shirt.

"He would only sign it if war ever started....." The realization dawned upon us both. My lips trembled. "I don't want to go to war...." I mumbled those words with tears falling from my eyes.

That was the last day I ever saw my mom again.

That was the day I was robed of everything.

Strike 1

A 10 year old out in the battlefields of war, that isn't something you saw everyday. But here I was, fearing that my life could end at any moment in these trenches. And it would be like this for the next 9 years.

It took some adjusting to, though there was no time to adjust. Hand a gun to a 10 year old and tell him to go to the trenches and figure it out. I wasn't even given training. They didn't care. They wouldn't care about me. I was a child who would get in their way.

I didn't blame them. After all this wasn't the military decision after all, it was the horrible president at the time who made this decision. What the Nimone government did was cruel. They went through every legal citizen document and determined who would be drafted into war. We already had plenty of men above 18 drafted, but it wasn't enough. With the law at the time, anyone who was above 10 years old, could be drafted if they were proved useful enough to be used.

And that's what upset me the most. That I was just some weapon in their eyes. A tool to be once and never again. I wasn't the only one upstairs though. Many parents and families were upstairs by this dumb decision. It wasn't just families either, it was our own men as well who were outraged by this decision.

Upon my first day at the military base I met the leader of my unit squad, Captain Ross. He was a tall and well built man, always having a cigarette in hand and giving cold gazes at everyone. It was scary first meetings him. After all, the captains in the Nimone are train and built to be unstoppable military weapons. Nothing can stop them, and they will not stop until they are dead.

Being compared to this grown man compared to me was quite scary contrast. I was just some tiny kid compared to him. We both looked at each other for the first time and I can tell by the look in his mustard yellow eyes that he was displeased. There was a scoff as Ross stared down at me. "Who the Hell put a 10 year old in my unit squad? This is a kid, he should be home, not here about to die for our country." At least Ross and I were on the same page. Who's mess up idea was this anyways?

Everything from that day forward continued to go down. You expect the 10 year old to be a helper in transporting supplies or be in the med bay, but no I was thrown straight to the front lines. The trenches. The conditions of trenches were horrible, but the treatment around here was worse.

I wasn't given proper clothes that were my size, everything I worn was made for grown men. I had to learn how to sew to keep my shirt together because I wasn't given new clothes. I been wearing the same shirt the militarily gave me for over 10 years now.

The bunks were hard as rocks, I could barely sleep. That's even if I could sleep at all within the anxiety that any moment a bomb could drop on us. Sometimes I didn't even get to sleep in bed. Someone I would pass out in the trenches or on the floor. I had to push myself to still be barely functional.

They needed me after all, all for my ability. It was either fighting in the trenches, or infiltrating the enemy team as a spy. With my ability I could look, sound, and act like someone else as long as I had a single strand of their DNA on a peice of clothing for me to wear, I could transform to be like them. Mirror Mirror, I called it. This was useful to the military, since I had to use it a lot. My ability was the only reason why I was still living while fellow soliders fall dead to the floor before my eyes.

They all started calling me DNA, Levi DNA, since that's what I was to them. I was called that name so many times that to this day I can't remember my own real last name now. That war has made me forget a lot of things.

Strike 2

I try to suppress the memories and nightmares so hard, but at the cost of forgetting anything good before the war. I was robed of the memories of my childhood because of it. Even if I did try to forget, the ones that were the worse always lingered in the back of my mind. All those moments of being in pain and suffering. Everything was starting to become dull around 18.

This was had been going on for so long that I was loosing my reason to keep fighting. As if I ever had a reason to in the first place. I was just doing what I was told. Go spy on these guys, aim for the head, use your ability, back to the battlefield you go. All words that have no importance to me anymore.

I remember one time I was in the medical bay, I had gotten badly injured, but even in that moment I couldn't rest for long. Dr. Ikari, a young man who never got to finish school, had to patch me up. Unfortunately he had to send me right back out to the battlefield a minute after he was done attending me. I could tell by the look in his eyes that we were feeling the same thing. This dullness that we both felt. I barely talked to him, but I could tell that both of our worlds were become gray.

When I was around 19 I thought there was nothing left to look forward to. The war was slowing down but I was already numb. Or so I thought until one day I saw a familiar face. Jumps off the bus was a familiar red head, it was Cooper! For the first moment in a long time I smiled as I saw him. He spotted me and we waved to each other. He still recognized me! I never felt more happy in that moment.

At last we can be like brothers again. Things became less dull, there was some color back into my life. Things were finally looking up. We would sit in the dining hall, eating the worst food, but that didn't matter to me. I got to talk to. My best friend.

Cooper would catch me up on everything that I have missed and I would vent to him about how this war was. His optimism brought up my spirits, which brought me to ease. He barely has changed since I last saw him, my same old buddy. We promised that once this war was over that we would support each other while we fulfilled our dreams. A track star and a baseball player.

Strike 3

That promise didn't stay.

I was robed again.

I could never forget that moment.

We were out in the battlefield, trying to traverse no man's land, our side finally had the upper hand in closing end on the enemy. But we lost many men that day, including Cooper.

He didn't react faster in time. Before I knew it, I was cradling his dying body in my arms, blood dripping from his forehead. Cooper was shot in the head. I couldn't stop crying. I wasn't even fighting anymore. All I did was lay on the battlefield, holding him closer to me. "Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me." I would mumble to myself through tears.

But he left. I believe now that he's resting well with God in heaven.

In that moment I could forgive myself. I couldn't forgive the enemy team. I couldn't forgive our own government for all of this. Things were becoming dull again, but there was this redness starting to boil in the inside of me. This ticking time bomb.

Then it happened.

I had enough.

The day I finally snapped.

I'm out

I regret everything I have done in that span of a week. I was the reason why things got worse. It was little things at first. Ignoring Ross commands, running straight into dangerous territory and slaughtering the enemies, or throwing a grenade at helicopters. Then it got worse, I destroyed many of our own military weapons and transport, with some of our own men still in them. I set some of the base on fire. Gave valuable information to the enemy team. Held hostages of innocent people. Many things.

All these things became documented, published for all the public to see. Soon Levi DNA became a name to hate. I was a danger to everyone around me. That I need to be killed or locked up away forever.

There were two final straws that let to my arrest. The president at the time came over to the base, there for a impossible meeting. He was the reason why I was suffering like this. With all the rage built up in me, I tried to assassinate the president. It took 6 guys to stop me from doing so.

But I wasn't done that day. The worst thing that I have done was use me ability for a murder. I transformed to look like Captain Ross, committing a murder on the previous vice captain at that time, making it look like he was the one who did it. I baseball almost ruined his name and reputation.

He hated me that day since.

There I was, now arrested and locked away in a high prison facility. Ross took the pleasure to torture me in breaking my spirit, in which he did. There was nothing to look forward to anymore. Everything had became gray once again. I felt nothing as I sat in my dark cell, chained to the wall. I didn't deserve good treatment. I didn't deserve kindness or anything good. After all a criminal, a monster, doesn't deserve anything at all.

There was no reason for me to live anymore, and I was ready to accept that.

For a long time in that cell I would be in my own little headspace, daydreaming that I was living a better life with my family and friends. It was my only "joy" left. But even that couldn't be enough.

I was ready to end it all, yet a tiny part of me told me not yet. One more chance. I try to ignore that tiny bit of hope left, but I caved in. I made a promise to myself, that if I could not find a reason to continue on living in a month, then I would end it all.

So I acted. With brute force I broke out of that prison. I snuck onto a boat headed towards Japan. I free myself and upon leaving Nimone to Japan, I did find one major thing to keep me living. The sun and rakn. The sun was so warm and bright, great against my skin and the rain was so calming and cooling.

This was my chance to start again.

Back in the game

Upon arriving to Japan, I ended up in Yoko's city. There I was already lost and confused. I didn't know where to go or where to stay. I didn't know Japanese so asking for help was a impossible.

For my first few weeks there I was a hobo, wandering around, taking food out of trash cans. I found a abandon car to sleep in for the nights, but I barely got sleep. Things weren't looking good again. I desperately needed a job.

But who would hire a criminal?

That's until I stumbled upon this building and this man with probably over 20 children. His name was Mr Fukuzawa. And upon meeting him, my life was never the same again. Things changed, for the good this time. And I was welcomed into a new life with such amazing and kind people. My world had color again.

I'm forever thankful for that day.

Thank you.

[gojoidyll]

Think Fast !! Chapter 1

Various x Fem!Reader

Summary | Due to certain circumstances, you and your family end up moving. Also due to these same circumstances, you find yourself being homeschooled, much to your dismay. But after getting your daily dosage of learning done and trying to get over the fact that you are stuck being homeschooled, you quickly find yourself wandering around the town of Makochi without a care in the world in your free time. And the people you meet? Yeah, you didn't regret moving one bit.

Warnings | None

Think Fast Masterlist

Think Fast Taglist |

@greyrain23 @wntrsblvd @pagesoflanguish

"Hey, hey, look! I finally got Aventurine to level 80 and I even got his lightcone too!"

You showed your older brother your phone screen as you happily talked about the fictional character. Your bright eyes shining and your lips pulled into a large grin.

Life was good ever since you moved and became homeschooled.

Your brother glanced down at your phone when you brought it up and patted your head, "you and your games. Anyway, I have to go."

You watched as he donned his school jacket. To be honest, you weren't exactly sure if he even was going to a "school" because what you heard from your brother was that he will be basically getting into fights with thugs rather than actually learning anything.

You were glad you sought out the comfort of being homeschooled.

"What's your school called again?"

"Furin."

You hummed lightly as you turned off your phone and slid it into your pocket.

"Can I walk with you?"

He crinkled his nose.

He was a year older than you. He was a second year in high school already while you were supposed to be a first year. But due to some circumstances back where you guys used to live, well, you ended up getting homeschooled instead and your brother was made to move onto his second year of high school at a new place.

He didn't mind it though. He never like the old school anyway.

But, even though you were his sister and he was happy that you were getting an education at home... he was still your older brother. And, to him, it was way uncool to be walking with your little sister to school (even if you both were only a year apart).

"No way!"

Even as he rushed out the door, you were quick to throw on your brightly colored crocs, and followed after him.

"H- hey! Wait up!"

"Don't follow me!! Shouldn't you be doing your homeschool homework?!"

"I finished that last night," you yelled right back, trying to catch up to him.

"You brat! I bet you did your work the night before so you could play games all day!"

"You know me so well, brother- oof!"

You winced and fell backwards. Your face had coming inti contact with a hard chest.

"Sis?"

When your brother didn't hear you following behind him anymore, he stopped to turn to look for you, and seeing you on the ground sent alarm bells in his head right away.

"Uhh- I'm sorry-"

You winced when you felt the front of your shirt get pulled into a tight grip as the man you had run into pulled you up forcefully, "damn brat! Do you know who you just ran into?"

"Uhmm, no," you smiled awkwardly, "am I supposed to?"

"Why you little..."

He brought his fist up causing you to squirm, "hey- hey, I apologized! It was an accident, I swear-!"

You barely got your sentence out when someone came flying in. Their foot coming into contact with the man's face. The thug was quick to go down as he went backwards a little. And you? Your shirt was a little crumpled but you weren't hurt.

"Are you ok?!"

You felt your brother gran a hold of you. His arms wrapping around you in a protective manner as he looked over at the guy who kicked the man's face in.

The guy looked to be your age. Though, what stood out the most to you was his multi-colored hair and eyes.

He was ... like an anime character! He had a cool entrance, cool hair and eyes, and even a kick ass attitude!

"An anime protagonist," you muttered quietly.

Your brother, you had heard your quiet whisper could only deadpan. He knew what you were like and he could only hope you don't bother the poor soul who saved you.

When the multi-colored hair boy fixed his jacket when the man didn't seem to be getting up anytime soon, you were quick to wriggle out of your brother's hold.

"Are you like a isekai protagonist or something?! Or maybe a secret demon lord who is on the path of good?! Or maybe a superhero trying to hide his identity to-"

Your brother yanked you backwards, "sorry about her Sakura. She's weird."

You guffawed, "you two know each other?!?!?!"

Your brother pinched your cheek to quiet you down, "we met yesterday. The thugs were messing with a woman so we just so happened to fight them together."

Your bright eyes turned back to "Sakura," "so you're a tough guy who saves the damsel in distress?!"

The boy, "Sakura," could only cringe at you. You were loud, hyperactive, and obviously had your own delusions of anime and manga.

"Uuugghhh."

Your brother could only hope that you don't scare away his new friends too soon. (Granted, your brother wouldn't exactly call Sakura a friend mainly because Sakura always seemed so agitated and angry with the world, but he knew Sakura was a good person deep down.)

"Let's be friends, Sakura!"

"No way!"

[nevermeyers]

regarding the whole jjk& gege hatespread movement going on rn, i think this is the perfect illustration of what happened when """trendhoppers""" (i really do not like that term) get into a popular manga because of the characters (fangirls) or the powerscale (..reddit anime bros?😭). and like, to some extent, that's fine!! fangirls are and will always be a big part of fandoms and are a big part of what keeps the community alive. i think the problem lays on the fact that jjk got a wide audience who is used to very binary good guys/bad guys representation in anime with same schemes repeated all over and never questioned their grounding bases. and some really don't like to be confronted to new characters paths or visions (especially if they do not accord to their own).

also the fact that people tend to move to the next shiny thing when the hype is over usually leaves the fandom with people who are actually interested in the story, whereas jjk never left the big screens. so i feel like a lot of the people who take a lot of place in this discourse are only there because they want to argue about who bodies who and "x could wipe the floor with y" and "x is so me guys" etc. they completely disregard the story and it's building, which is (besides interesting (and it is always good to remind it)) the WORK of SOMEONE who puts his time and effort into it.

most people treat work as content (which is bad)(coughcapitalismcough) and get angry when it's not presented in the way they want it to be☹️

You are so right anon!

And do you know what's the worst thing I've ever seen? Someone who said that Satoru couldn't die because the consumer (us, the readers) is always right ☠️ That take is so fucking disgusting, I don't even know where to begin to express the disgust I feel. There are people in the fandom who don't understand anything, they are the typical self-centered people who believe it's okay to throw trash on the school floor because there are hired cleaners. They are disgusting, I don't regret saying it.

The good thing about these chapters is that it's being shown who in the fandom are good people and who are narcissistic and ethnocentric wrecks who believe they have the power to decide on the author of the work. I've spent the last few months mass blocking these guys, ugh, I can't stand them. Worst of all, they live in their own delulu world where a sad ending (or//insert any ending they don't like) is not allowed. They really think jjk should have an ending where Sukuna is defeated and that is, again, self-centered. They say that, otherwise, everything would have been for nothing. Hmm? Since when does letting evil win undo an entire story? They are unable to value jjk for its history. They are doing the same thing that the jujutsu world did with Satoru, they are dehumanizing everything and they are so self-centered they don't even realize it.

People are literally dehumanizing both the author and the characters themselves, forcing their own vision of the narrative at the expense of whatever. Also, I've noticed that many of these profiles just spew hate, literally. That's their whole personality. You see a review in your dash, you enter the profile and surprise! that person hates everything they consume, they don't have a single good word in absolutely any chapter, they hate the author and claim that “Gege doesn't know his own characters” (as if characters aren't allowed to change and evolve in their views, ideology, etc, lmao)

These people are the worst, they spread super negative vibes. They seem very immature to me, because, if you don't like something, why would you continue consuming it? That's straight toxic, and I don't think they have a proper mental health if they're like this with the rest of things happening in their lives. They like to hate and they live off it, that is the only answer.

On the other hand, they are forcing “Gege has a bad narrative” to cover up the fact they are incapable of leaving the fandom and seeing the characters as characters and not their puppets, they force their fanon vision on them and then cry when they discover that they aren't like they expected. Shoko is an example of this. She was always certainly cold, but the fandom always painted her as Satoru's super hyper bestie, as a victim of Satoru's “selfisness” after the kfc breakup (god forbid a teenager grieving) and forced on her that she's a very good person when in reality she is still a doctor who passed her exams by cheating and who showed no empathy in lots of situations, when seeing, for example, Yuuji's corpse.

People also complain that the final fight is taking too long, lol, fights in shonen are like that, that's the point of the genre, babe, jjk is literally sold and promoted as a fight shonen. I honestly think that those who say that are people with a tiktok span of attention. (they would complain if the fight lasted for ten chapters too) Also, what a coincidence gege's narrative dropped when they started waiting weekly for a chapter, huh? What a coincidence they started disliking jjk when they started waiting, also all characters now seemed to be bad written after they started waiting another coincidence! Fast consuming has RUINED people's perception of media.

The moral of this is: enjoy what you consume, be mature about your consuming choices and have a good relationship with the things you like. Stay away from the negativity! And, most importantly, don't treat the author as your slave.

By the way, ik people have a twitter mentality so i'll say this for those. I'm not saying people can't have their own opinions, don't force that narrative on me lol It's the way you express your views that categorizes wether you're a normal person or an asshole. For example, I would have loved Yūta to stay out of this and leave Sukuna to Yuuji, since it was his time to shine! I think Yuuji deserves to have the spotlight and end everything (or try to), carry the final fight and all that. But I won't complain about it, nor drop the manga, because I'm not an inmature self-centered fifteen year old :)

Thanks for coming to my ted talk

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hi mira i’m going to rq for jjk (gojo specifically) :) kinda inspired by a fic idea of mine so if i see you post it maybe it’ll give me inspo to actually write too LOL — this is also a little long sorry, you can shorten as you wish 😓 maybe it’ll get the brain juices going idk

Y/N was really close to geto (i was thinking siblings but do whatever) and when he turned curse user and left, it made Y/N rethink why she was a sorcerer herself. she believed in geto’s ideals, but seeing his mindset 180 made her question if the same thing would happen to her since she was always weaker-minded than him. so she quit dropped out of the school and gojo never saw her since

skipping to the present, Y/N became a sorcerer again after having a conversation with geto some time before he died. with yuji being sukuna’s vessel, she goes to the school herself and sees gojo (their last convo was actually an argument leaving everything [him] behind). gojo’s just really stubborn, but he’s there when Y/N really needs him. from there they only keep encountering each other until they make up, their feelings are all out on the table, etc. etc.

── CHIAROSCURO

Synopsis: You don’t really know who you are without Suguru Geto. Satoru Gojo doesn’t know who he is without either of you.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo x Reader, Geto & Reader have something less than romantic but more than platonic going on

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: angst, mentions of death, flawed y/n character, major time skips, most plot events happen off screen, characters are probably ooc tbh i haven’t written for jjk in months

A/N: finally finished the first of the requests I’ve received so far!! it ended up being way more geto-centric than i had planned for it to be though i’m so sorry angel 😭 and it was also getting way too long so i decided to end it by just hinting the development of the rest of the story you mentioned LMAO i hope that’s okay 😫

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

Most people grew up with one shadow, but according to your mother, you had lived your entire life with two. The first was the same as the one everyone had, that darkening of the ground in the shape of your figure. The second was the boy who lived next door — or, at least, that was what she told you.

His name was Suguru Geto, and despite his dark features and darker clothing, he had a perpetually sunny demeanor, always quick to offer you a gentle smile whenever you glanced his way. He was polite even when it wasn’t required of him, and though your mother teased you for it, you knew she was secretly grateful for his presence in your life.

The greatest thing Suguru had ever done for you, though, was not teach you manners. It was that he gave you someone to follow. Perhaps it was true that he was your shadow, but it was his in which you cowered when you were frightened, when the brightness of the world was too harsh for your eyes, which, when it came to cruelties and horrors, were as sensitive and new as a child’s.

Suguru was always happy to take on that role. He would stand in front of you, his shoulder blades pinching together as he puffed out his chest and rebuked whichever neighborhood child had dared to tease you. They all ran from him when he was like that, when his brow grew heavy over his eyes and the corners of his mouth twisted into a scowl.

Not you, though. You stayed behind his back, blinking owlishly at the way the others scurried, laughing along when Suguru likened them to mice with a click of his tongue.

Suguru didn’t like those who hurt the ones weaker than them, so you didn’t, either. Suguru thought that the role of the strong was to protect the frail, so you did, too. Whatever Suguru believed, you did as well, because what else was there for you? It was easier for you to hold onto his hand and press against his back, to allow him to tell you where to place your feet, so that there was never even a chance of you falling.

That was why it wasn’t a surprise that, upon Suguru being scouted as a sorcerer, you were extended the same invitation. It was a natural consequence — where he went, you followed, and so when he packed his things and went to Tokyo, it was both of your bags that he was carrying, while you peered around the train station and wondered what kind of place you were going to end up in.

Your new classmate was the one that picked the two of you up. He was tall — taller than even Suguru, though the majority of his body consisted of his legs — and had an unearthly appearance, with pale hair carefully mussed into a seemingly thoughtless style and black glasses which slid down the bridge of his nose to reveal eyes like diamonds.

He was the most brilliant thing you had ever seen. Lowering your eyes, you stepped back into Suguru’s shadow, earning you a scoff from your classmate and a worried exhale from your friend.

“Blech,” he said. “You’re supposed to be my classmate, really? How’re you going to keep up, huh? I’m the strongest sorcerer in the world, you know.”

“I think we’ll manage just fine,” Suguru said pleasantly, though there was an edge to his voice, his teeth like knives when he smiled and offered his hand. “I’m Suguru Geto.”

“Satoru Gojo,” your classmate said, shaking Suguru’s hand firmly. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” Suguru said. “And this is Y/N L/N.”

“Hi,” you said, swallowing even as you said it, pursing your lips and glancing around, wishing for some kind of escape. Gojo hummed and then poked you on the forehead.

“Aw,” he said when you did not visibly react beyond furrowing your brow. “I thought you might fall over or something.”

“I see,” you said. “Um. Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go before our teacher gives us all detention for playing hooky.”

Unlike Suguru, Gojo didn’t allow you to follow him around. He made fun of you when you were scared and poked you on the forehead if you cringed away from his taunts. The latter occurred so frequently that you were surprised there was not a permanent indent in your skin.

“One day I’ll get you, pretty Y/N,” he’d always promise you. “Seriously! I mean, you barely have a backbone in the first place, so it’s really a wonder you’re standing at all.”

At first, Suguru used to demand he stop, but as the months went by, his protests grew weaker and weaker. You supposed that it must’ve been nice for him, to stand beside someone for once instead of constantly throwing himself in front of them. You could not blame him, but you found that you missed him more with every passing day.

But what was there to be done about it? After all, you were nothing compared to the two special grade sorcerers. You did what you could and found it was, for the most part, sufficient, but sufficient would never let you exist beside either of them in any way that mattered. So you fell behind, and this time, it was not a conscious choice but an unavoidable circumstance. This time, when you hung back, Suguru continued forward without you.

Empty-minded and weak-hearted. That was what your teacher called you. He sent you on the simplest missions he could, and still you struggled. Sometimes, this meant you would sit alone in the classroom until it was long past dusk, listening to your teacher ramble and shout.

“You are not weak!” he would say, his hands clenched into fists by his side. “By all rights, your technique is perfectly serviceable. You are not weak, Y/N L/N!”

“Yes, sir,” you would respond meekly.

“At least, you should not be,” he’d say. “Yet somehow, inexplicably, you are. Even a Grade 2 curse nearly got the better of you. Your classmates are exorcising special grades on their own! Aren’t you disgusted with yourself?”

Suguru, and sometimes Gojo, would wait outside of the door for you, lingering until they heard the shuffle of your feet, the soft sniffles which announced your arrival. Then Suguru would wrap a casual arm around your shoulders and tell you that it was fine if you were weak, just as long as he was around to protect you, and Gojo would do that infuriating thing where he’d poke you in the forehead and pretend like it was a miracle you hadn’t toppled over yet.

Otherwise, you did not see your classmates. Shoko Ieri was far too busy learning to do things you could never hope to accomplish in your lifetime, and Suguru and Gojo were called on to complete assignments with such unhealthy regularity that their education actually suffered for it. 

You never knew what they did on their missions. You never cared to ask, either. The details would only make you queasy, and in this new world where you were not permitted to shudder and seek out the safety that Suguru so willingly provided you with, you tried to avoid things like that. Harsh things, brilliant things, cruel things — all of them you ran from at an equal pace. Without Suguru there to defend you, you turned into one of those children he had so-despised in your youth. Always running. Always hiding. Always shying away from anything resembling a challenge.

It was after one such mission that Suguru returned differently. You knew he had changed because he crawled into your bed that night instead of his own, drew the blanket up around his shoulders and pressed his weeping eyes against your collarbones.

“It’s no good,” he said after the third time you had asked him what was the matter, your hands nervously skimming over his shoulders, smoothing over his rough hair. “Everything’s been ruined, Y/N. Or maybe it was always like this. Maybe you’re the only one who’s ever understood the world to begin with.”

The next morning, when his feet touched the ground and he slid out of your bed, you were hit with the strangest feeling that you would never see him again. Not in the way you were used to seeing him, anyways. Sitting up in your bed, leaning against your pillows, you watched as he left, though when he went to close the door behind him, you reached out your hand.

“Wait,” you said. He paused, raising his eyebrows.

“Is everything okay?” he said, his knuckles growing white from gripping the handle.

“I want to look at you,” you said. You knew without knowing that the instant the door shut between the two of you, you would lose him forever. Your best friend. Your shadow. You wished that there was a way you could reach out and save him, but the thought of you saving someone was outlandish. Impossible. Laughable. 

“Yeah?” he said. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and it did not reach his irises, but nevertheless, he somehow managed to muster up a smile. It was not gentle as much as it was exhausted, but still, he smiled as best he could at you. “Okay.”

You hugged one of the pillows to your chest. “I miss you a lot.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” he said.

“Not yet,” you said. “I think you will someday, though. You’ll go somewhere far away, and I won’t be able to follow you there. You won’t even want me to.”

“What kind of place is that?” he said. “I’ll always want you to follow me around, Y/N. As long as I’m there, not a corner on this planet could be a place I don’t want you to follow me to.”

The door creaked shut. You stared at the blank expanse and thought to yourself that he had always been very good at lying.

From that day forward, there were two opposite phenomena which occurred simultaneously. On the one hand, that blinding radiance of Gojo’s was magnified by the minute, and on the other, Suguru withdrew further and further into a grey sort of monotony that, try as you might, you could not pull him from.

“Gojo,” you said one day, tugging on his sleeve and flinching when he turned to look at you. As per usual, he pressed his finger into your forehead.

“Yikes,” he said. “Seems like you’re still lacking in the spinal department, dear Y/N. But just so you know, I’ve cheated off of your math homework enough times that you really shouldn’t be scared of me.”

“Please help Suguru,” you said.

“Eh?” Gojo said. “What do you mean? Help him with what, his math homework? I’ll just give him yours to copy as well, so why don’t you cut the middle man and show it to him yourself?”

“No, not with — just, he’s going away, and I don’t want him to, but he doesn’t — you’re the only one,” you stammered. 

It was even more difficult to speak with Gojo now than it had been when you had first come to school. That was because it was only recently that you were realizing that that way he made you feel, that shyness, that apprehension, was not because of his gleaming, sharp countenance, but rather something else, something soft in your heart that thudded to life whenever he smirked at you.

“You want me to take his mission for him?” Gojo said, his nose wrinkling. “What, so the two of you can go on a date or something? Forget about it.”

“What?” you said. “No, what — a date — that’s not what I meant!”

It was too late. Gojo was gone, and with him, your last chance at helping Suguru vanished, too. In fact, Gojo avoided you until you went home from the summer break, making a face whenever you glanced his way, and by the time you came back to start the next year, it was too late for anyone to do much of anything.

“Y/N L/N,” Masamichi Yaga said, entering the library where you were writing a paper for your literature class. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, his cheeks a dark, flushed color, his teeth gritted together so hard that a muscle in his jaw twitched periodically. “Do you have a moment? It’s urgent.”

“I was just working on the essay that we were assigned, but it can wait,” you said agreeably, all too eager to give yourself a break from the work. Pushing aside your paper and pen, you stood up, massaging your wrist. “What is it, sir?”

“It’s, er…” His shoulders slumped. “I’m really sorry, Miss L/N.”

You tried to run through the list of things that he could be sorry for, but only one thing came to mind. You froze, your eyes widening. He had been on a mission, hadn’t he? 

“Suguru,” you breathed. “Is it — it’s not about Suguru, is it?”

“In a sense, it is,” Yaga said.

“Is he alright?” you said. “He has to be alright.”

“We believe his condition is fine, considering what he’s done,” Yaga said.

“‘What he’s done?’ Why are you being so vague? What’s going on, sir? Please say it plainly,” you said.

“It’s your parents, Miss L/N,” he said, spitting it out all at once like the phrase itself was poisoned. “They’re dead.”

Your stomach dropped. You had imagined so many things. In your nightmares, you saw your classmates dying, your teachers, even yourself. But never your parents. Your parents, who were so far removed from this awful world. Your parents, who only a month ago had sent you back to school with a pair of new shoes they had saved up to buy. You parents, who had never harmed anyone in their lives. What had they done that was so terrible it warranted such a sudden death? What were they being punished for?

“How — how did it happen?” you said. “Was it a curse?”

“Miss L/N…” Yaga said, his entire self deflating. “I’m really sorry.”

“What? Stop apologizing,” you said, tears gathering in your eyes. “Just tell me. Stop saying sorry and tell me!”

“It was most likely Suguru Geto,” he said, handing you a piece of paper. Your vision swam, and you could barely make out the words. All residents of the village were killed. Jujutsu High investigated. Based on residuals…all 112…the work of Geto’s curse manipulation. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death.

“No,” you said, your voice cracking. “No, why would he do that? My parents loved him, and he loved them, too! We grew up together, so why would he do that?”

“Based on the evidence, he most likely killed his own parents, too,” Yaga said. Your hands wound themselves in your hair as you tugged.

“That’s a lie,” you said. “Suguru isn’t like that. Suguru is good! Suguru looks out for those weaker than himself! He protects people, Yaga. It must be a mistake. It has to be a mistake!”

“Miss L/N—” he began, but you were already running, sprinting as fast as you could. There was no way. There was no way. There was no way. 

Your house and the one beside it — Suguru’s house, a voice in the back of your mind nagged you, that’s Suguru’s house — were blocked off with yellow caution tape. Dozens of police officers were milling about the scene, barking into handheld radios, conversing tensely. One of them noticed you and extended an arm to stop your approach.

“Stay back, ma’am. This is an active crime scene. No outsiders allowed until the investigation has been concluded,” the officer said.

“That’s my house,” you whispered. “Officer, that’s my house. Why are there so many people here? It’s not true, is it?”

The officer didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The pitying frown on his face told you everything you needed to hear. It was true. It was true. Your parents, your parents were dead, and that meant —

What had it been like for them? Had your mother welcomed him? When she opened the door for him, had her eyes crinkled at the corners in greeting? Had she offered him tea, as she usually did, because she was so fond of him and he was so fond of the drink when made by her hand? And what of your father? Had he reached over to clap Suguru on the back, or had he tried to grab him in an affectionate headlock so that he could mess up his hair with all the zeal of a man half his age?

You threw up. Some of the vomit splattered onto the officer’s shoes, causing him to fold his lips into a thin, disapproving line. Taking a step back, he reached over to pat you on the back as you heaved and hacked, trying to expel the knowledge from your mind and finding that you were entirely unable to.

You walked back to the train station in a trance, your eyes reddened and glazed over, your mouth sour from the taste of the stale crackers the officer had handed you, your hands shoved in your pockets as you tried to remember to breathe through your nose. The officer had offered to escort you to the station, but you had refused. You needed the time to think, and anyways, what did it matter? No ordinary person could hurt you, and no sorcerer would.

“I didn’t think you’d come back alone,” a soft voice said from behind you. You turned around, your insides roiling at the very sound, your ears ringing as you took in Suguru’s casual posture. His hands, too, were in his pockets, and the streetlights cast misshapen, dancing shadows over his face, the effect worsened by the odd tilt of his head.

He was refusing to look at you. That was why he was standing like that. He couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes, and that was the only confirmation you needed. 

“So what?” you said. “I did. Are you going to kill me next?”

“What?” he said. Briefly, he glanced up at you in alarm, and then, like he had remembered he didn’t deserve to feel betrayed by that kind of question, he slouched back down into the same apathy of earlier. “No.”

“Just do it,” you said. “Just do it, you fucking asshole! Why would — you — you killed my parents! You killed my parents, and now you’re just talking to me as if nothing happened? Why? Why would you…?”

His expression did not budge again. “They were filthy monkeys who deserved it.”

“Huh?” you said. The statement was so bizarre that, for a moment, your anger was forgotten. “What the fuck?”

“This world doesn’t need more non-sorcerers running around,” he said. “Every single curse you’ve ever fought, it’s their fault. Those idiots who don’t know how to control the meager amounts of cursed energy they have, they’re the ones who cause curses to manifest. You should be thanking me, Y/N. This’ll make your life that much easier.”

“Do you really think that's the case?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “With my entire heart, I think that it is.”

You had always, always followed Suguru. When he said to protect the weak, you did so. When he said to take care of others, you did that, too. Whatever he told you to believe, you believed. But how could you do that this time? How could you believe in the person who had murdered your parents?

“You killed my parents because of your stupid theory,” you said numbly. “You killed my parents. Suguru, you killed my parents.”

You didn’t care about the one hundred and twelve villagers. That was the most shameful thing: if it had just been that, then you might still have followed him. He could’ve convinced you — no. You could’ve convinced yourself that it was fine, that he really was looking out for you in that peculiar manner of his. It wouldn’t have been impossible. Even now, your resolve was so weak, and it was only the thought of your parents that allowed you to cling to it at all.

“They asked about you,” he said dully. “I let them. My own parents, I didn’t give them a chance to say anything, but yours…I let them ask. I guess you could consider it my last favor to you.”

The ringing grew louder. You pushed your palms against your ears in an effort to drown it out, but you couldn’t. If anything, it just grew louder and louder, more and more insistent. You couldn’t shake it off. You couldn’t make it go away, just like you couldn’t make Suguru’s words go away.

“It was the only thing they worried about. In their last moments, it wasn’t their own lives they begged for…it was yours,” he said, his gaze far away, his irises unreadable as he recalled that moment. “How strange is that?”

“Shut up,” you said.

“I told them you were okay,” he said.

“Shut up,” you repeated, though it was unsteady and unconvincing. “Shut up, shut up.”

“They were pretty happy about that,” he said, in a tone filled with dreamy recollection. “They didn’t fight much after I promised you’d be okay. What simple creatures they must have been, that even while dying they could only think to rejoice!”

You screamed. It was wordless and brittle, a symptom of your lungs’ collapse as you broke into sobs, fumbling in your purse for your phone. Suguru watched as you unsteadily punched in a number you had never bothered to save, not trying to stop you, maybe not seeing the point.

“Gojo,” you said when he picked up, before he could even say anything. “Gojo, please just — can you come get me? Please come get me.”

“Okay,” he said, to your surprise. He didn’t argue or call it a waste of time or point out that you were still bawling as you spoke. “Where are you? I can be there pretty soon if I steal one of the managers’ cars, I think.”

“By my house,” you said. Suguru did not move, showing you his hands, as if he was giving you permission to do what you wanted. It was your choice. If you just told Gojo that he was with you, then you had no doubt he’d be apprehended within minutes.

“I see,” he said. “I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”

You were the one who hung up, not him. You were the one who made the decision. You were the one who looked at Suguru and then turned your back to him so that, for once, he was the one behind you.

“I can’t reconcile it,” you said, using the ends of your sleeves to blot at your tears as you hiccuped. “I can’t understand it. Even after everything, I still want to follow you. I still want you to be my shadow. I still want to be yours.”

Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Don’t turn. You couldn’t turn around. If you turned around, then that meant your old teacher was right. Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. You could not turn around.

A dry breeze rustled through the leaves on the ground, sounding like footsteps against pavement. Don’t turn.

You turned. You should’ve known better than to expect anything different from yourself. You had never been someone who could stand in the front for very long. You would always turn. You would always run and cower and hide.

Anything you might’ve said died on your tongue as you saw he was already gone. You were alone. You had let him go. You had allowed that mass murderer, that criminal, to walk away from you. What kind of a sorcerer were you? Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. That sort, then. The horrible sort.

When the headlights of the car Gojo had borrowed swung around the corner, you had long since curled up on the grass, your cheek to the mud as you tried to grasp what you had done. 

“Hey,” Gojo said. “Y/N?”

He must’ve gotten out of the car at some point, because suddenly, he was crouching before you, pulling you to your feet, his limbs awkward and gangly as he cocked his head, still wearing those ridiculous sunglasses despite the darkness.

“I’m a piece of shit,” you said, and then you were clutching the collar of his uniform jacket. “Why am I like this?”

“What do you mean?” he said.

“He killed my parents,” you said. “He killed my parents, and I let him walk away.”

“Who?” Gojo said, but it was a rhetorical question. He knew who. You looked up at him miserably, and he shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. “You let who walk away?”

“I don’t think he was planning on seeing me,” you said, letting go of his shirt and pleading with him to understand. “We weren’t supposed to meet.”

“You saw Suguru,” Gojo accused, and now it was his turn to take you by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscle of your biceps, his eyes wild. “You saw him, and you didn’t tell me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “He killed my parents, Gojo.”

“That’s not true,” he said.

“It is,” you said. “It is, he told me it is, and I couldn’t even do anything when he said so.”

“Why?” Gojo hissed. “You only had to tell me! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t!” you said, and then you were crying again. “I couldn’t. Oh, they’re dead, and he killed them, he killed them, and they only asked about me when he did. Why am I the one who gets to live?”

His hands traveled from your arms to the nape of your neck, the heels of his palms pressing into your jaw as he tried to force you to look at him. But you couldn’t, of course you couldn’t, you hadn’t been able to before and you definitely couldn’t now.

“You know Suguru better than anyone. Don’t you think there’s something else at play?” Gojo said. He wasn’t asking for you. He was asking for himself. He wanted you to reassure him, tell him that it was alright, that his best friend wasn’t the monster you both knew he was. How was it fair? How could you be expected to reassure him?

You shoved him off of you. “No.”

“Then why’d you let him go?” Gojo said. “You must’ve thought that there was a reason, or else you would’ve told me. It’s the only explanation!”

“No, it’s not! The only explanation is that I’m shitty and weak and stupid, and I can’t help but rely on him. No matter what I do, I’ll rely on him! People like you don’t understand what it feels like. You can stand on your own, but I’m not like that!” you said, and then you were grabbing his hand — he always did that, you noticed, always turned his Infinity off for you even now that it was an automatic, constant process — unfurling his fingers and jabbing his index finger at your forehead. “Do you get it? You were right. I don’t have a spine. I don’t have one at all!”

“Pull yourself together, Y/N,” Gojo said. “He’s still out there. We just have to reach him before the others do, and then we can talk to him. If it’s the both of us, then he’ll listen. He’ll explain everything!”

“He already did,” you said. “You just don’t accept it, but that’s different than him not explaining at all.”

“So what, then? You’re just going to go back to the school and live your life as normal?” he said, scowling at you. “How could you even think of doing that? In what world does that make sense? You can’t go back and pretend like nothing happened!”

“It’s true. I can’t,” you said, because it was the fact you had been avoiding since the day you first set foot in the school, which you had always known in the back of your mind despite how you denied it. “I can’t go back at all. I can’t be a sorcerer.”

It was a rare thing to see Satoru Gojo speechless. If it were a lesser occasion, you might have laughed at the way his lips parted and his eyebrows knitted together in such a foreign way.

“Why not?” he said. 

“I’m afraid I’ll follow him,” you said. “No, I know I will. If I stay, then I will definitely follow him.”

“You won’t,” Gojo said. “Follow me instead. Follow me if you have to, but you can’t leave. Not you, too.”

Another rarity: Satoru Gojo was afraid. Not of your absence, but of the changes it would bring. With Haibara gone, Suguru vanished, and then you…what would even become of the school? When so many pieces were taken away from it, could it even be considered the same place?

“I can’t end up like that,” you said. “I can’t even risk it. I became a sorcerer because of him; I’ll leave because of him, too. Anyways, you hate when I follow you. You prefer people who can stand on their own two feet. I know that about you now.”

“If you run away, I won’t forgive you for a long time,” he warned me. 

“Then don’t,” you said, stepping away, though still facing him. “What good is your forgiveness, anyways? It won’t bring my parents back. It won’t bring Suguru back. I don’t even want you to forgive me, Gojo. I want you to hate me until you die.”

It was the last time you saw him for so long that his memory blurred away at the edges. The way he said your name, the way his hair shone in the sun, the slope of his nose and curve of his neck…once, these were things you might’ve been able to list with a great degree of accuracy. Not anymore, though. Now, if you thought of him at all, it was only that final image of him, framed by the headlights of that still-running car. It was not your name he had called out as you walked away from him, but something bitterer, a promise said with such sincerity it was all but a Binding Vow.

“Ten years,” he had said. “That’s how long I’ll hate you for. Not my entire life. Not until I die. Just for the next ten years.”

Life as an ordinary person was easy. Life without Suguru was harder. But you learned. You learned, through the years, how to stand on your own two feet. You learned how to live with only one shadow instead of two. You learned how to let your eyes adjust to light, gradually instead of all at once, so that it was an easy progression and free of pain. 

There were times when you thought you had seen one or the other of the two who you had run from. There, across the street, was it Suguru reading the newspaper? Or in the bakery you walked past on your way to work, was it Gojo who was admiring the displays? They always vanished before you could grow close enough to ascertain their identities, though, remaining ever out of your grasp, existing as nothing more than phantoms in your periphery, refusing to let you forget the past entirely.

The first time you called Gojo was a year after you left the school. You weren’t expecting him to pick up, and when the automated message prompted you to leave a voicemail, you almost hung up in resignation. Something stopped you, though, and despite feeling entirely ridiculous, you cleared your throat.

“Ah, it’s Y/N. But I guess you probably knew that, considering you didn’t pick up. Well, I don’t have anything much to say, but I just wanted to call and make sure you were doing alright. I’m okay. The anniversary of my parents’ deaths is coming up, so I was planning on visiting their graves. I got a new job. Somewhere that I never would’ve expected to work when I was younger. It’s nice. I like my coworkers. They’re nothing compared to you, of course, but they’re fine enough. Anyways. Um. I guess that’s it. I don’t think you’ll call me back, but I just wanted to let you know I’m doing okay.”

It was a routine. Every year, on that day, you’d call him and leave him a voice message. He never once answered — you doubted he listened to the voicemails at all, either — but it soothed you to leave them, to leave one last connection to the world that had taken up so much of your life, and for so long.

More often than not, that time felt like a dream. If it weren’t for the thorned mourner’s bouquets which left pricks in your fingers or the ten calls you had made to Satoru Gojo, you wouldn’t have believed any of it had happened at all. Sorcery, curses, shadows and killers, best friends who betrayed you and boys you ran from, these were all things better suited to storybooks than real life. 

Your mother’s favorite flowers had been roses, and you always made sure to bring some with you when you visited your parents’ graves. Roses for her and white chrysanthemums for your father, who had never had a preference for any particular flowers but was so sentimental that he would weep at any blooms being set by his headstone.

The roses were the ones that made the pads of your fingertips bleed, leaving bright red drops the same shade as their petals on the tissues you brought with you. You’d set the bouquet down and wrap your fingers with the tissues, watching as blood seeped through the thin paper, and then, without fail, you’d cry.

“It’s been so long without you,” you said, when enough time had passed that you could not be considered anything but an adult despite feeling like little more than a child. “It’s been so long, and I still don’t know what to do. Mother, father, I am grown now, yet constantly I wish I could ask you for advice. What was that song you’d always hum when I was tired, father? How did you make that tea of yours, mother? When did you know you loved one another? And a million other, sillier things. If I could think of nothing more pressing, I’d ask you about the weather, the time, and your plans for the weekend. I’d bid you a good morning and a good night. I’d complain about the rain and my job. Just as long as it meant I could talk to you again.”

You could not help it. You wept, bloody tissues fluttering to the ground as you ground your fists into your eyes, trying to stem the flow of your tears. Your breath came in quick, short gasps, and you rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes in an attempt to lull yourself into a state of calm. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was the only thing you could do, but it was not enough.

Someone’s hand settled upon your shoulder, and it had been so long since you had felt even a semblance of physical affection that you did not immediately bat them away. Instead, your own hands fell to your sides, your head hanging as you watched the newcomer set a bouquet beside the one you had brought. Orchids and lilies. Lovely, pale things that contrasted sharply with the red of the roses next to them.

“You said in your voicemail that you’d be here at this time. I hope it’s okay that I came.”

It was Satoru Gojo. He no longer wore the sunglasses you remembered him to; instead, a black blindfold was wrapped around his eyes and forehead, causing his pale hair to stick up like he had been shocked. He did not quite smile when he noticed that you were looking at him, but something resembling that expression crossed his face.

“Gojo,” you said. “Why are you—?”

“It’s been long enough,” he said. “You’re a really hard person to hate, Y/N L/N. I did my best, but it was difficult. I hope that you know that.”

“So you’ve come to, what, tell me you forgive me?” you said. “Thanks, but I don’t need it. It’s as I said: your forgiveness means nothing.”

“Nah,” he said, and then he was grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’ve come to bring you back to sorcery with me.”

“What?” you said. “No. I quit.”

“You didn’t quit, you ran,” he reminded you.

“That’s the same thing,” you said. He grinned. It was the kind of grin that would’ve blinded you when you were younger, but you found that it was not so brilliant anymore. You found you liked it even more than you once had.

“Not in my books,” he said.

“Gojo, I’m not strong enough. I can lead a normal life without you and Suguru and the others, but if you throw me back into sorcery, I know I’ll cave,” you said. “I’ll turn back into that cowardly little girl I once was. I’ll seek out that shadow which I’ve spent so long learning to exist without.”

He sighed, and then he poked you in the forehead. “Not the case. See, you didn’t even waver this time! I think you finally did it, Y/N. You grew a spine.”

“Why do you want me to come back?” you said. “I’m not strong like you. I won’t give you anything you don’t already have.”

“It’s selfish,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you because it’s selfish, and you’ll laugh at me.”

“If you don’t tell me, then I won’t even consider it,” you said. Though his eyes were covered by the blindfold, you could sense him rolling them based solely on the way he pouted.

“I’ve spent the last ten years hating you for leaving us — for leaving me behind,” he said. “Everyone else was gone. I needed someone, but you left too, and then I really was alone. I want to drag you back into hell because I can’t face it by myself anymore.”

There were things left unsaid in that. Why you, for one? He could have anyone in the world, so why, after ten years, had he come to find you specifically? Why was it now that he could no longer bear the hell that was sorcery alone? But Gojo was not the sort who ever revealed his true self if he could help it, so you supposed those things would have to go unsaid for a little longer.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll come back, but I have a condition.”

“What is it?” he said.

“The next time I leave, or run away, or quit, don’t hate me for quite as long,” you said. “Don’t hate me at all. I know I told you that I want you to hate me until you die, but I don’t anymore.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” you said, in a direct mirror of your previous exchange.

“Okay,” he said. “Come on, then. Follow me.”

“Oh, that, too,” you said. “I won’t follow you. If that’s what you’re expecting, then you can forget about it. I cannot allow myself to follow anyone ever again. I cannot be that weak, or I’ll become someone I despise. Someone I don’t want to be, ever again.”

His expression morphed into one of shock, and then he did something so odd as to be beyond all rationality and logic. He beamed at you before patting you on the head. It wasn’t condescending; it was the kind of gesture that was like a promise, or a warning, depending on who you asked. Maybe in this case, it was both.

“It’s alright. Actually, it’s better if you don’t,” he said. “I like you more when you don’t follow anyone at all.”

[dabadmooddood]

so, i went and saw challengers...

**spoilers ahead// I was stupid tired typing this so it might not make any sense and could just be word vomit, but I couldn’t sleep without getting this off my chest**

so i think the problem i've had with the conversations i've seen surrounding this film is the fact that people are trying to really simplify the relationships between them and their relationships with tennis then reducing them to some blanket statements like "oh Tashi just loves tennis and is just with Art because she can control him" or "Art doesn't even love Tashi, he loves the idea of her and what she can do for him" or even "Patrick doesn't love either of them, he just loves attention". i think why these conversations really bother me is because i fear we are reaching a stage where we are so unable to connect to people that we fail to see characters as people and recognise that like most people they are complex and so are their relationships with the things and people they love. i think this is the truest form of a love triangle but not in the traditional sense, i think all three have a love for two (or more) things or people and i word it like that for specific reasons.

Let's start with Art, who is a character i relate to quite heavily, i think it is quite obvious in both of his establishing scenes with them how much he loves both Tashi and Patrick and as a result also has a love for tennis because that is what keeps him within proximity of them, first Patrick then Tashi. I think his love for both stems from a clear adoration he has for them because their supposed, although faux, security in themselves is foreign to him because he’s quite clearly very insecure (this is kind of highlighted in multiple instances when he's so full of praise for them but doesn't really talk much of his own ability and in fact sees himself as quite the inferior to others in different aspects). I can understand how this can be perceived as him loving the idea of Tashi more than he loves Tashi herself but i think there are hints throughout the film that points out how he views her in a way that is much more intimate than just some great tennis player, i mean from the second he made the comment about the scream she made after winning the junior open i knew they'd end up together. His love for Patrick is a little bit different because he very much views him as a brother initially and it's a bit harder to tell how he feels about him after the kiss, but they never struggle to be within each other's space and the way they engage with each other is extremely intimate, I mean technically even his first sexual experience was with Patrick, and there is no doubt in my mind that he does love him very deeply.

Regarding Patrick, i’ve seen quite a few people argue that he loves neither of them and only loves himself but again i feel strongly inclined to disagree with that. Whilst it is obvious that he does have quite the ego and more than anything loves attention and adoration, i think to say he does not love Art would be extremely untrue. i think the fact that Patrick is only able to produce his best tennis is when playing against or alongside Art is meant to show us how deeply it is that he cares for him and that those are the moments in which less of his focus on his own ego which is what makes, “That’s different. That’s you and me.” such a beautiful line because it introduces us to the idea from early that Art is the only person whom Patrick is willing to surrender his ego for. Also, it goes unnoticed a lot, but he has a lot of praise for Art and is often frustrated with his lack of self-belief because what seems like just adoration on Art’s end is a shared adoration which is why he is ultimately fine with Tashi’s singing his praises in bed because he feels the same way about him.

Lastly, i’ve seen many say that Tashi doesn’t love Art in multiple ways, whether it be “she doesn’t love either of them, she just loves tennis” or “she was really in love with Patrick but because she got injured, she chose Art”, but i really do believe she loved Art. When discussing Tashi’s relationship with the boys i think it’s useful to analayse their double’s nickname fire and ice, with Patrick being fire and Art being ice. Fire represents passion and desire but similar to actual fire is unpredictable and uncontrollable whereas Ice is meant to represent calmness and stillness but also something that can be carved into something new or even reshaped. Tashi and Patrick’s fight, that ultimately ended their relationship, was a result of Tashi trying to coach Patrick and him being defensive as a means to protect his ego, which is quite similar to their initial interaction with each other in which Patrick defends the effectiveness of his serving routine against Tashi’s criticisms of it. When looking at that in comparison to Art pretty much immediately adjusting and improving his serve at Tashi’s recommendation it really highlights the exact differences in the two relationships. Now, i’ve seen many argue that that is the only reason Tashi chooses to be with Art, because she is controlling and needs someone controllable, but i think that is where we do the character a disservice and oversimplify her. Although we don’t see it all that often, Art brings out a side of Tashi which is very much caring and considerate. It's extremely hard to see it through her demeaner particularly when they’re older and she tries to be his tennis coach at all times but there are moments throughout the film when her guard momentarily drops and she’s seen smiling at him, expressing concern for him or just being generally softer than the Tashi we see throughout the rest of the film. Also, the so called “hate” she has for him is clearly an underlying resentment that she holds because he doesn’t love tennis as much as she does but it is still able to compete at the highest level and i can agree that it manifests itself in a very unpleasant way but I think the only reason Patrick calls it hate because he has a similar jealousy that Art was able to achieve the adoration he craved but it didn’t manifest itself in the same way and he probably still holds similar adoration for Art that he’s always had

All in all, i do think there are clearly loving relationships that exist between the characters but unfortunately the one thing that connects them, tennis, is also the one thing that doesn’t allow them to have healthy relationships as it breeds jealousy and resentment partnered with the different ways they compensate for their insecurities it can make it seem as simple as “they all hate each other” but I believe it more so a toxic love than it is a hatred.

[katyspersonal]

LRB Marika IS an more complicated character than someone who wanted control and power, of course. In a way, she hates the nature of life itself. Rulers raising only to fall, civilisations forming only to rot into the point of being overthrown and replaced with new ones, biomes forming only to be destroyed by new natural disasters... births happening only for there to be deaths. Endless torment cycle of life and death, in history, nature, and everything else that exists or will exist.

Like, you can't blame her either. I think many people wondered whether it'd be better to stop it and reach perfection, stability and immortality. Heaven promised in many religions touches the similar concept after all - no more pain, destruction, turmoil and deaths. And it IS ironic how the entity that had that perfection, Greater Will itself, didn't want that and searched those cycles instead. And Marika experienced being treated as just another cycle first hand, when it decided it was time for her to go and be replaced by Gloam-Eyed Queen. But I feel like she might have seen the larger picture than just her authority and power being threatened, because that low blow was just a part of the larger "issue" - how life itself works. She is Eternal maybe not in vain, but to become the 'face' of the rebellious concept of stopping the cycle and ensuring stability, the same thing forever. She manifests that idea of stability, and then does it again when she counts on Tarnisheds to battle into eternity. Because eternal battle with no winner is ALSO stability, it is ALSO a way to halt the vicious wheel from taking new turns.

In other words, she sees a sadistic design in the cycles, maybe more sadistic than whatever oppression she could have forced on others to establish the stability. Fromsoft consistently mocks the pursuit for not letting the fire die that ultimate stability in their works, so it is clear what side THEY take. Because, yes, like Melina said, it is beautiful that new life will still sprout from death. The cycles are not only misery, but also joy, and hope, and enjoying what you can when you are STILL here. And earlier than that, Ancestral Followers understood this idea and they could not be more happy! But I always loved that characters who dread the cyclic nature are given respect and can be sympathetic, they are never treated as simply ignorant, vain villains in the writing

[chaifootsteps]

[major spoilers for Netflix's Baby Reindeer]

so it's a show about a comedian Donny Dunn based autobiographically on the creator's experiences having been stalked and sexually harassed by a woman and in his past having been groomed and raped by a man

the show treats it with care and shows all the side effects of SA and rape - he questions the effect of his past assault on his sexuality, he ends up accepting the stalker's facebook invite and not reporting her for a while because despite how scared he is of her he feels validated by the attention, etc etc

my point here is if a show wants to talk about abuse, or about rape, it should actually do that. and if it wants to represent female on male abuse it should do that, too

but as it is, abuse or SA is just something that gets mentioned once in Helluva and then never again.

like, how have his experiences with Crimson shaped Moxxie? does he ever think about the murder of his mom? Crimson could come back in a future ep (probably) but is Moxxie at all concerned about that? idk, because the show doesn't bother giving characters a consistent emotional state except when it remembers to

same with Stolas and Stella. Fans leapt to claim Stella raped Stolas based on flimsy evidence, yet only cared if Stolas was slightly tipsy (and tied up) the first time he slept with Blitzo the moment they could use that information against Blitzo. and yet they're all for stol!tz despite how bad a person Blitzo supposedly is? We also see Blitzo and Stolas both have lousy dads but the effect of this on them is largely unknown. worse still, the show could have had a good lens on cycles of abuse by showing how Stolas was neglected and mistreated, but he still turned that treatment on someone with less power and made self-serving excuses for it, but nope. we can't have that

the closest the show has gotten to a realistic depiction of the effects of abuse is Blitzo himself. he's seemingly hypersexual in present day because of how his father made him feel like nothing by literally selling him off for an afternoon to a rich family and also because his trauma around the accident has left him with a deep seated fear of letting people in, in case he lets them down and them loses them. he behaves in contradictory ways that are frequently unheathly. he reads like someone who has compartmentalized the living daylights out of his poor treatment by Stolas because he maybe thinks he doesn't deserve better, and previously when he had someone better he self-sabotaged by stealing their car and maxxing out their credit cards so they would dump him

and how does the show treat him? victim blaming him for being sexually coerced by Stolas & being unable to give informed consent to Stolas' deal, then levelling every 'not a perfect victim!' excuse and 'not if he enjoyed it!' rationalizaion against him. it's honestly been morbid to watch the show do backbends to excuse Stolas and the fandom not only swallow it but say worse things about Blitzo on the regular

Morbid is an excellent word for it. I know that there's really no comparison, that Baby Reindeer is based on a true story (and basically one long therapy session for Gadd) and HB isn't, but if Baby Reindeer was about how how all of Donny's problems could be solved by marrying the man who abused him, you'd have HB.

[letters-adressed-to-the-fire]

so this is why i think peter is the one looking in people's windows

A few days ago, I saw a swiftie on TikTok talking about how I look in people’s windows could be taken as the other perspective of the same story narrated in Peter, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. So, I decided to go in-depth and start a self-assigned quest to look for any clue that could interweave these two stories in a way that made sense.

I know this could sound a little absurd or could be taken as a stretch of some sort, but I believe, and I’m sure most of her fans would agree, that most of the beauty in Taylor’s writing comes from the countless different interpretations people bestow on her lyrics. I’m not asking you to take this analysis as absolute truth because I’m genuinely just having fun with it, and I hope you do too.

I’ll analyze “I look in people's windows” from Peter’s point of view and “peter” from the other character’s pov, whom we’ll call Wendy given the obvious parallelism to Peter Pan.

Well, the main and obvious connection is given by the “window” element. While Wendy is waiting for Peter by the window, Peter is looking for her from outside that window. If you look at this through very literal and rational eyes, I believe you’d think it doesn’t make sense that they were both looking for each other through the same window but never met again. So HERE is where I want to insert my interpretation.

There are two options I can think of that would explain the failed meeting. 

Peter intentionally avoided Wendy while still looking for her every day.

Every time they were looking for each other, it happened at different moments.

The first case presents a lot of questions, like, is the pledge to grow up what is stopping Peter because he knows he can’t do it? Or was he cruel enough to wait for Wendy to move on and then come back? Either way, the conclusion remains the same. In this scenario, Peter was a coward. If it was because he didn’t want to grow up, if it was because he just wanted Wendy to never move on, or if it was because he never gave her a real answer.

On the other hand, the second case talks about something that’s closer to a tragedy. They were always doomed by the narrative. While Wendy was waiting for him, Peter was looking for her, but Wendy never saw him—not when she waited or when Peter was looking for her. We would need to assume some things here tho. Either it all comes back to the first option and Peter had been avoiding her the entire time, or he thought she had already forgotten about him. The first option shows us, once again, that Peter is a coward, but the second one also tells us something important: he may be too scared to grow up, but he’s not selfish enough to stop her from moving on.

“Northbound I got carried away As you boarded your train South, south, south, south, south, south A feather taken by the wind blowing I'm afflicted by the not knowing so”

Based on this verse, we can design a new theory. He watched her leave and he was aching for her to come back to him. So he started looking for her in other people’s windows, wondering if one of them was gonna be her. Even when he had already said goodbye to her.

And here’s where another verse of peter will acquire significance:

“I thought it was just goodbye for now”

With both songs in mind, it sounds like he said goodbye to her, hoping they were gonna see each other again, but he also knew he had to let her go at the time and that he was condemned to miss her. But what Peter didn’t know was that Wendy was gonna go through the same thing, but she wouldn’t have the comfort of knowing what he did (wait for her).

“promises oceans deep, but never to keep”

This is why we get two completely different endings for both songs. While Peter is still addicted to the what-ifs, Wendy has turned off the light; the fantasies have expired for her. Wendy grew up; Peter didn’t. While I look in people's windows gives you the feeling of being running from house to house in a neighborhood you don’t recognize anymore, trying to fit into a routine you were used to in the past; peter reads like the last chapter of a book you’ll never touch again.