#I'll see if I have time to write one since I do have a lot of notes from when i planned this fic

[darqx]

Pick up the receiver I'll make you a believer

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

After doodling the first image that hug body slam meme immediately came to mind and i couldn't help myself 😂

Thanks very much I'm glad you are enjoying my art and characs! :D

To put the answer simply, Rire used to work for the prior King as a Collector (of souls) and he was that King's only Collector and so got the brunt of his ire for any related, perceived fault. Aside from that personal connection Rire also really disliked him because he viewed the prior king as a useless glutton who failed at ruling a sector (conditions were tanking/had tanked for ages), and which the Royal powers were wasted on.

Almost all of his sunglasses are actually normal human sunglasses, he can just see better than a human can 😎

Anything can be a kink, anon :d

Boring victims are often exceptionally weak-willed victims so that's something in particular he dislikes.

Yes he can play the piano and violin, and horseback ride and ballroom dance etc. Put it this way he has a lot of particular small skills that he picked up during his Earth visits so he could hide in plain sight with the upper echelons XD

Not like how a snake or cat hisses which is what I'm assuming you're implying XDDD He can't bite off a limb (his mouth ain't that big) but his teeth are very sharp so he can feasibly take a chunk out of someone or like, completely bite off something smaller (finger, ear...)

I havent added to it in a while (since I dont often find songs I like enough to actually download lol) but this is my current playlist for him in no particular order:

Anon, the fact you capitalised "Aliens" made me think of Xenomorphs and I had to immediately stop thinking 🤣

On a side note, I can't actually tell you either way because he hasn't encountered an alien (that isn't a demon or a human) lol. He'd probably initially treat an alien much like he would treat a common demon, if they are obviously not human, and then if he realises they are also not quite a demon this could peak his interest.

Pointing you in this direction because regardless of the canon answer this proves he could look good in one LMAO

Sorry to burst your bubble but no :d Though I suppose he could simulate the effect by reverting parts of them to their "liquid" state 🤔 DO WITH THAT INFO WHAT YOU WILL.

It is theoretically similar to a human's.

If you can remember his age then that is how old he is :d I'm not really like other creators who give their characs a definitive "birthday" down to the year, mainly because I don't often have set "time periods" in my stories lol.

His birth date falls somewhere between late October - late November though.

In the context of BTD; they just don't like each other XD Well I can't actually speak for Cain, but Rire not liking Cain is partly a riff on general angel/demon rivalry dynamics, and partly because Rire would see Cain as more of a threat since canonically Cain is way more OP than him.

Most of the time when i draw them Cain is also actively getting in Rire's space whilst Rire is actively trying to avoid him, so there's also that XD

It...depends. On which aspect of "ownership" you're implying. For those that he has deals with, he'd calculate what exactly the value of the deal lost would be and in this situation he'd likely write them off as Cain would be more annoying to handle then they'd be worth (he can always make more deals).

If someone was specifically marked by Rire, that's a different level of possessiveness and he'd actually try cos like

Hey guys some offence but why are some of you sending me asks formatted as if i were ChatGPT

Is there one for like, personal ambition or cunning or something cos I don't think he'd be any of those listed lol.

Rire doesn't have a mobile phone and he doesn't need one because he has a demon power that basically CCTVs all his citizens to himself. And really, if he wants to find you he'll find you.

He's somewhere in the middle of that scale through the sheer fact that he's been around long enough to see technology change and would've kept up with how to use things to blend in better, but also doesn't need to use the electronics to the point that he'd need to be an expert at it.

Is this cos Gato is Canadian cos I don't remember a country location being specified when we did it? |D Personally I figured most of the settings were in the US since the US has the most documented serial killers

Also sos no i dont anon, you'll need to either ask Gato or EP or dig through any of their lore posts they might have left.

Think kind of like Rire (he did learn a lot from her after all), but with a more Elizabethan era socialite vibe. Possibly a black widow but we dont have any proof about that.

Has/had a p good relationship. I use both terms because I still never decided whether she was currently dead or not lol.

Lol a misconception but Rire doesn't actually perceive humans as trash XD Trash suggests that he hates them and they wouldn't be worth regarding at all, whereas Rire usually finds them more like...novelties. Or like whatever that feeling that is associated with viewing ant farms or animals performing tricks is. Rire's mother would view them as more like working animals or livestock.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Do you have any rules for requests?

Thank you for asking and respecting my boundaries!

I do have some that I've started over the course of running this and other writing blogs:

1. I will not write overly Gore, Yandere, or Rape. I might have implied it or have it offscreen in a quick one sentence passage, but these themes make me uncomfortable, so I don't make them main topics. If you send in a request, I'll likely post it with a rejection notice so that others who see it might be willing to pick it up. The only time I won't is if the ask is rude/too detailed.

2. As a personal choice, I don't really enjoy writing multiple crossovers. This means I like to stick to the DC or DP universe's for this blog. Occasionally, I might use elements of a third option, but it's really hard for me to make it work since I'm not putting in an honest effort.

3. My blog has blanket permission on all prompts/chats/requests as long as I'm credited for the original. If you want to reblog and add more, you can. If you want to write an extended fic on another website, you can. If you want to draw based on something I wrote, you can. If you want to post it on tick tok with a voice reader, you can. If you would link me so I can geek out about it, please do so.

4. I don't do tag lists because they are too much of a hassel to keep an eye on. I also don't like seeing such a big wall of usernames. I try to keep my master post organized with the latest updated date on there if you would like to follow the Aus and find all the parts. The index will show you where each Au is organized.

5. I'm twenty-seven years old (I have no money, no prospects, I'm a burn to my parents, and im frighten). This means that while I don't mind getting NSFW asks or implied NSFW jokes/writes, I ask that if your underage DO NOT send them in. It's for both your safety and mine that you don't interact with that material until you're older. (I think I'll post the NSFW stuff on Ao3 as suggested)

6. I'm a multi-shipper. Since none of these charaters are real, I am known for moving them around and changing their circumstances to make pairs. My favorite genres in writing is fantasy and romance, so if you don't like a ship, please understand that it won't stop me from writing it. Unless requested for a gen fic in the ask, I will change almost all prompts into romance because I like reading/writing that kind of stuff.

That's all I can think of on the top of my head. If you sent in an ask and haven't seen it yet, it's because I haven't gotten the time to answer it.

Currently, I am behind by a lot in my inbox but that's mostly due to my final for my 16 week course, my work's audit and end of the fiscal year budget, I have five close family graduations, two weddings and one baby shower all crammed into the same month of May.

I'm also suffering from a bit of writer's blog on some aus.

But I swear I will get to your asks as soon as I can. I'll jump around to try to get past the writer's blog, but once things calm down, I'll go back to the order in which I received the asks.

[askoverkill]

OOC: Out of the characters in overkill, who's your favorite one to write? (Like, dialogue-wise).

// eghhh thats tough. i've written a LOT with these characters since i wrote Winning Hats (which is on hiatus cause of this, obvs) so i'm already used to writing everyone and i do enjoy them all in their own ways.

// siffrin... feels like the default voice. they're the eye we see this world through. since i've written so much loop POV, it just feels like i'm writing that again. everything is like... a natural conclusion, of what should happen.

// siffrin takes any situation and subconsciously thinks "how badly can i misinterpret this?" and then does that. siffrin cares so deeply for others, is forgetful, feels so much yet hides so much. here, he's a little more cut open emotionally, he can't hide like he wants to. he's already been through so much

// the director is real fun cause they're layered with intention and double meaning, either by puns or by context

// lupus is always a blast cause i love writing emotional brat characters with no filter.

// loop is emotionally rewarding, odile is... odile. she's more open than in canon to fill up the space isabeau left since hes so avoidant now.

// mirabelle... she hasn't had a lot of time to shine yet. its also a lil tough cause she's MOSTLY the same, just more bold because she's been blessed. hard to highlight that when she's more plot driven? hm. i'll have to think about this.

// and isabeau himself. hehe. i enjoy writing him a lot because hes such a warped version of himself here.

[0viraptoraskblog]

Hello, I hope you're doing well, I love the things you write!

This is probably going to be a long one. It turns out that ever since I discovered btd 1 and 2, and tpof, I've always been really curious about Ren's character. I imagine that just like me, people must have been surprised to see how he had become in Tpof. I'm SO excited for Ykmet! I know this game is mainly focused on Strade, because of course his name is there! XD

I love him too, but I'm particularly looking forward to seeing the parts with Ren. I know about the changes that Gato has prepared for him, and I hope they're positive, I trust what she's doing.

Anyway! I think I've gone on too long. The thing is, since I finished Tpof, I haven't found many people who give analysis to the older Ren character. I don't know if I'm looking in the wrong place, but I always thought tumblr was the best place to look, because the fandom seems more active here.

There were many things I didn't understand, because I'm terrible at analyzing, I try, but I constantly feel like I end up overthinking, my head always tries to provide several explanations like A, B, C, D, and it goes beyond that.

From your perspective, opinions and thoughts on the DLC, what do you think people often miss about Fox? Something you noticed that some people probably didn't. I would particularly like to know about your interpretation of the ending. Yes, I know it's straightforward and clear, he saves us. But I've always wondered about his motivations. I think that conversation we have with him in the bunker affects him, but in what way? What are his thoughts? And what are his thoughts about us after that?

I constantly noticed that he was also always adjusting his posture in his streams, and in the third one when he bites and then licks the wound on Mc's neck, then he looks almost embarrassed. Was it just because he got too excited or was it something else that i didn't catch because im too stupid? lmao

I'll end the ask here or it will be too long, I apologize for that, and if I didn't manage to express my questions very well

(although, if you answer this, I hope it's okay if I ask a bit more)

I think Fox has built this new version of himself based on being in control. He used to be a captive, always weary of Strade, and then trying and failing to be in control of MC in btd2 (who either died or escaped, given that this is Ren’s darker path). After that, he wanted to be in control for once.

He runs the entire auction system, he has his own show, and he’s incredibly good at what he does. That security not only makes him confident in what he does now, but it makes him finally like who he is (at least, he thinks.)

Young Ren was struggling a lot with his image and self worth, in terms of being treated as a pet/property, being abused, and then convincing himself that it was all because Strade loved him. Those years affected his mind so much. When his plan with MC went wrong after the second game, I think he realized that he should have been following Strade’s advice more. He fell back into that mental state of idolizing Strade and his way of doing things, his way of thinking. Why would Ren try anything else? Of course Strade was right. (This is the wrong idea, sadly, but it must have been the conclusion he turned to.)

It started as him trying to follow the footsteps of the only person he’d ever had to look up to— Strade. That’s why he started doing shows, because Strade was successful and Ren wanted to follow his example. He was also swayed a lot by emotion, the loneliness he felt and the emptiness he has after Strade’s death. Continuing his legacy was a way to fill the void, at least a little. He also needed money sooner or later.

Over time, he started to make it his own. He started to think less about Strade and more about himself. By the time we see Fox, he’s pretty much moved on from Strade. He does it as his own show, in his own name, his own life.

He is a great showman, naturally. That’s where the posture, gestures, and lively way he talks comes from. He knows how to entertain an audience, and he’s spent years perfecting that skill. He does enjoy the shows, to an extent. But remember, when MC asks him why he does this? Because he’s good at it.

He does like the feeling of being in the spotlight, and entertaining an audience— but his answer wasn’t because it’s his passion, not because he likes being in power, but because he’s good at it.

He’s accustomed to it.

The thing I think people miss is that Fox still has that unsure feeling inside. Deep down, he likes you. And he wants to keep you. But the show must go on! He likes who he is now, and he has to perform for chat. Like I said, it started out as ‘that’s what Strade would have done’ when he was younger, but now he’s moved on from Strade and just become so conditioned to it that he doesn’t know how to break the cycle. It’s how the show goes: he tortures someone, does what chat wants, gets paid, and they die in the end. That’s how it’s always gone. But what about when he grows attached?

An Easter egg to prove my point:

Middle picture, third row down He literally hurts himself for letting you go, because he’s realized he likes you, but he doesn’t know how to deny chat. (this happens when you make all the wrong choices when he visits you in the bunker before show 3. Making all the right choices will result in the survival ending.)

That’s why the survival ending is so critical to his character— he did something for himself. Because he wanted to. It’s a sign of him breaking free, and realizing that he can be in charge.

MC’s dialogue choices are important there too. When he tells MC their fate is up to chat, and you say “I thought you were in charge?” It makes him stop and think. You set things in motion for him. That leads you to the ending where he saves you.

As for when he licks the blood on your neck, I think he got a little flustered because he let his animal side show/let his composure fall a bit. A big part of these shows is the power imbalance between him and the victim, and he always puts on a front of being more put together than they are.

But yeah, that’s my mini analysis on Fox. There’s so much more to his character, but that’s for a later date ;) You’re always welcome to ask more!

[soarelesiluna-ao3]

I would love to read a Bojere getting together scene that involves showering together. Maybe at first they joke around about one joining the other in the shower until they take the jokes too far and realize neither of them were joking at all

Yes yes yes!! Since BoJere week is rapidly approaching, I think I'll post this as a warm-up. I'm not yet sure whether I'll take part on it but I'm beaming with excitement over them since the last time they saw each other 🥹💙

Also just wanted to thank everyone for the 18 follows, it means the world to me to know there's people reading my silly little stuff 💙

I'm slowly going through my askbox - you can keep leaving stuff in the meantime. Have a great Labor Day and take well deserved rests!

Content under the cut!

Ps. I do love writing Jere's broken English. I truly do.

First night with Jere in Slovenia. The first night of a very few productive days upcoming. They had been talking over the phone about these days, excited like children who were about to visit the zoo. After such a long time of not seeing each other, it was just logical to be so hyped about reecountering their favorite people in the world, right?

Bojan's apartment sufficed for Jere to stay in - his friends understood the need for closeness with him, after all. Kris' old room was rearranged and made available for the stay. All day, the Finn had been talking about getting a shower, because he felt tired from the flight and needed a rest, but also wanted to get things done. Bojan, in turn, had started another inside joke to add to the collection - if he was too tired to take a bath, maybe he could help him out with that.

The thing of having so much of a bond with someone, is that you never know where the line between truth and joke is drawn in some occasions, and this was one of them. Bojan helped him figure out the shower and was about to leave, when the rapper let out a small whine.

"So you not shower with me?"

This made the Slovene stop for a second, as if trying to process a foreign language.

"What?"

"You said if I was tired you'll help me shower", Jere continued. "And I, uh, think I am, yes."

"Jerč... I don't think we'll fit into the shower..." Bojan bit his lower lip at the thought.

"No problem, nothing I not have seen before", the way he said it caused them both to laugh. "Come on, I'm sure we have good time!"

"Okay, sure..." Bojan grinned, and started taking off his clothes, leaving them in a messy pile by the sink. Soon, the both of them were standing in front of the other in the shower, warm water hitting their skin. It felt nice, it had been quite cold lately, so the warmth was pleasant. And the company was even better.

"Okay, now what?"

"Uh... I don't know", Bojan shrugged. "I think... I could help you out. Just relax and let me work my magic."

"Ooh, magic. You magic man, you. I like that."

Gentle hands reached for the shampoo bottle and pressed some of it into his palm, before starting to massage the dark hair to make foam.

"Your hair is growing again", the Slovene smiled. "Like it used to be back then. When we met."

"I still handsome guy, right?" Jere's question came out as playful.

"You could be bald and I still think you'd be the most beautiful man on Earth", the sweet words rolled off Bojan's tongue so easy it surprised him, despite it being three years of them together. "Don't do it though."

"Nah, I don't think I will. That's too much", a moment of silence passed before the Finn spoke again. "Will you wash me, too?"

"I'm here to help you out, am I not?" Bojan leant over his shoulder and left a small kiss, before grabbing a sponge and the bar of soap he always used. Then, he started gently rubbing it against his body. Another moment of silence. "I missed you. I missed touching your skin, having your scent close, knowing... I have someone to hold when I wake up."

"Oh, Bojan... I miss you too. Everyday. I know we talk a lot. But it's not the same. Never it's not the same. You are special. Very special. That's why I asked you to shower with me."

"Huh? How so?"

"Because... If I feel you, I know this is not dream."

A small smile appeared on the singer's lips, as he gently patted Jere's shoulder to tell him to turn around. Wrapping his arms around his neck, he leant in and started kissing him. A very slow kiss, as if his lips were trying to remember how it felt, despite having kissed many times since his arrival. A long-lasting kiss, that ended with Bojan hiding into the crook of his neck.

"I hope... This helps you a bit."

"It does", Jere left a kiss on Bojan's ear. "I'm so glad to be home. In your arms."

[call-sign-shark]

Lee, sorry for taking so much time to reply, but I really wanted to write this reblog properly because your comment warmed my heart. I've poured a lot of tears into this, so knowing that you enjoyed and and that you took the time to analyze it means a lot...

The self-harm part was the one that brought tears to my eyes because I speak from experience. Getting free from this unhealthy coping mechanism was hard, and I still feel the huge to hurt myself when I'm feeling too much, tho it's scarce and I always manage to brush it away. I was surprised you got the explanation of chemicals rush because.... Yeah. That's EXACTLY the case. I think she's dangerously reaching the limits where he codependency and sincere love of Arthur can anchor her. Arthur's behavior after John's death and his relapse were punches in the guts for her already. Arthur leaving and hiding without telling her is a pill she cannot swallow. Not after their promises. Not after she betrays Polly and Tommy's plans to keep him from the S4 family meeting for the sake of showing that she'd always be truthful to him. And not after choosing him over her baby. Because even if she didn't want to be pregnant and didn't feel ready, it's still her kid, and it hurts. I think Heaven is one bad decision away from Arthur from giving up.

Surprisingly, I'm quite proud of the description of the stable because, even if it's quite short, it's vivid, so I'm glad I made you travel through my prose.

“Why did you marry him then?”/“Why do you fuck with all the girls you meet?” => THANKS FOR PICKING IT, I was so proud and I giggled when I wrote that! 🙈

And Lee, seriously, I'm clapping. "I realized she's talking to herself", exactly. Well, I did want to keep it ambiguous and borderline supernatural, as is the case with Ghost!Grace scenes, so it's ambiguous, but she's mostly talking to herself and overcoming years of denial. We will see how this epiphany will affect her slowly but surely. As for Tommy, I am so freaking happy I've managed to make you feel conflicted to him because that's exactly what I wanted - to flesh out the repulsion/attraction but also their similarities and how he suffers from losing Grace. However, I am also delighted that you don't excuse nor buy him because I think it's easy to forget that he's egoistical, toxic, and though he does have affection for Hev, he states it himself: he won't let her go.

I'm already rambling annoyingly so I keep the analyze of the first HYE chapter short 'cause I'll prob ably come back to it in other chapters, but it hurt me a lot when I wrote it. The deconstruction was planned since Hev was meant to drop her mask after one full act of making people believe she was a holy thing, but still. It stung badly.

And last but not least... Aaaah, Tommy x Heaven. What a debate right? When some of you are like 'nope', some readers beg me for them to end together. Once again the tension between the two was planned but I didn't think it would work so well, so I am delighted! I think you can read their conversation as you did. One thing is sure: they won't be the end game, but it doesn't mean we got to see everything of their relationship yet.

Thank you again Lee, really! This one kinda flopped so your comment felt like a balm on my heart. 🖤🖤

Heaven in Your Eyes || Tommy Shelby x You

Summary: A haunting scent, a ghost from the past, and a confession too raw to take back. Masks always end up dropping in Arrow House.

Words: 5k

TW: self-harm and extreme angst, grief, mental illness, manipulation, Hev is not your typical nice reader she's really twisted and it was the case from the beginning! I wasn't joking when I said that this story was going to take a brutal, very dark turn so please, proceed carefully. Also, if you wanna hate, be a warrior and switch off anon.

Notes: 5.4k

✞ Heaven in Your Eyes is mostly an Arthur Shelby story but considering what happens to him in this part of S4, this chapter will revolve around the MC, and then Tommy.

✞ This is chapter 18 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as a stand-alone.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The smooth metal of the razor blade caught the light perfectly when you turned it slowly between your thumb and index finger, tilting it just enough to watch the fascinating glint dance across the edge with a far off look etched on your angel face. It was fascinating. You meant the way this delicate thing, small enough to disappear in your palm, was so sharp that all you'd have to do to get hurt was to lightly close your hand around it.

You were sitting on the edge of the cold porcelain bathtub, your left ankle resting on your right knee. Your silk nightgown had been pushed up over your thighs, their pale skin looking like freshly fallen snow under the feeble light. In your hand, the razor blade trembled slightly as you brought it to your thigh and lightly dragged the edge along your flesh. Not enough to break, but surely enough to feel the whisper of its pressure grazing you. 

The familiar thrill of anticipation, the one that simmered just before the pain and the relief, was as vivid as you remembered.

A sarcastic snort echoed in the bathroom when you gave a second thought at that old habit you thought you had buried long ago. What do they say, here in England? Ah. Old habits die hard. 

Instinctively, your crystal eyes fell upon the coarse scars that were carved deep inside both of your thighs. The sight of the white, messy, and swollen lines made your stomach churn slightly. It wasn’t really about the way they looked but it was rather the meaning of them that disturbed you whenever you deigned to look. Each slash was a testimony of when you'd lost control and, truly, there were far too many to count. Layer upon layer of healing tissue, you had marked the times you broke. The times you didn't know how else to breathe. And before you could realize it, it gradually stopped being shocking and, somehow, became a routine. Until butchering yourself felt like the most natural thing to do in case of overload.

It started after the slaughter of your whole family. Stopped when he found you. Started again when you left him.

It wasn’t fair, you conceded. You had sworn to Arthur you'd never go back to this. Not after telling him about the nights spent shaking on the floor. Not after Lucy found you curled up in your own blood and rage several times. But had he wished to make sure you’d respect your oath and feel good enough not to dive back into it, he would have been here. In the meantime, you were the one alone in this bleak bathroom, consumed by a dizzying void that was starting to grow insufferable. Alone while the whole fucking world spun too fast around you,  with a blade back in your hand.

Fuck the lot of them. You thought, exhausted.

Tommy for poisoning your blood. Arthur for being so selfish and stupid. Polly for always tricking you into protecting this cursed family. Ada for always watching you with hidden disgust since the day you had killed a man to save Charlie. Michael just for being born and John for not being able to stay fucking alive.

The blade kissed your skin like an old lover in one clean and controlled cut. Instantly, the pain, or rather the slightly uncomfortable itch, bloomed when your flesh broke apart. For a split second, you felt it — the awful, guilty relief. The kind that said "you’re still here, Hev. You still feel something".

Your bambi lashes fluttered with pleasure as liquid ruby gushed from the cut. 

Alright, just a second one. Or a third. Maybe a fourth. Fifth, but you swore it was the last one.

You stopped only when the canva of your flesh was entirely painted in red, finally dropping the razor onto the tiles with a sharp clatter. The sound of it, chiming in the whole bathroom, brought you back to your senses.

“Merde.” You cussed, when you saw how bad you had hurt yourself,  heart banging in your chest so brutally you thought you’d soon throw it up. Your chest rose and fell rapidly at the sight of blood already blooming in warm, slick lines across your thigh. Too bright, too fast. You pressed your palm against it on instinct, hissing through your teeth. Fortunately, neither the searing pain nor the dizziness got the better of your reflexes. Pushing away the looming madness to the back of your head, you grabbed the white towel nearby and wrapped it around your bleeding thigh.

Something was wrong.

Well, something has been wrong for a while and you could trace it back to John’s death, if one wanted to be precise. Since that cursed day you found him lying in a crimson puddle of his own blood, riddled with bullets, your happiness had shattered like glass around you. Or, rather, the illusion of it. You had to face it: your wedding to Arthur Shelby only worked when things were fine, then turned into shit at the first hard blow. John died and, all of sudden, Arthur’s worst flaws exploded and they proved to be more overwhelming than what you had expected.

Amos… He always had a knack for knowing what to do when it all came crashing down. He’d wrapped his arms around you and soothe your deepest fears as you nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck, lulled by his sweet perfume, his warmth and velvet voice. Then he’d just take care of the problem with his teeth and claws.

You shook your head, chasing him away from your mind by forcing yourself to focus on your wounds. Amos wasn’t here either anyway. 

Once the bleeding had dwindled, you stood groggily and dragged your slim being out of the bathroom, careful not to look in the mirror as you passed by it out of fear of what would stared back. Maybe a ghost of you, or ink-black eyes, who knows. No matter what it could be, you were pretty sure you wouldn’t like it.

The need to flee from this ridiculous mansion had intensified lately. Arrow House’s walls had started to feel too suffocating for you to bear anymore. Sure, staying inside would drastically reduce your chance of getting shot by a bunch of fedora-wearing Italians, but the probability that you ended up dead and cold after bleeding yourself dry increased day by day. That was why you paid no heed to Tommy’s rules and you descended the stairs in silence. 

Once you reached the backdoor, you pulled on a long black coat, laced up your boots, and slipped out into the vast garden, vanishing into the night, the thick fog swallowing you whole.

Your legs automatically carried you to the mighty stables at the end of Arrow House’s garden. As much as you hated the mansion, the exteriors of it never failed to amaze you with its beauty and gargantuan size. Well, it wasn’t as impressive as the Alpine landscapes you were used to but it still offered many places in which one could rob a fleeting moment of peace amidst some Shelby chaos.

After wandering for a while, you had decided to keep a magnificent white mare, that was grazing near the stables, company. She probably belonged to Tommy, taking into account that Charlies’ one was inside its stall. You ran your little hand along the mare’s mane and she shifted under your palm, asking for more rubs. Her reaction stirred a tired smirk that tugged on your lips. To be fair, she looked as ghostly as you with her shining white coat. 

Still stained with dry blood, your fingers moved in slow, tender strokes along the strong line of the beast’s neck to probe her reaction further. She seemed to trust you, which wasn’t particularly surprising. You always had a gift with animals for lack of being good with humans. Sometimes you wondered if you really were your mother’s daughter — she was known to be patient, empathic and always smiling. Far away from the so-called Russian coldness.The more you thought about it, the more you came to the conclusion that she must have swallowed down all the darkness and somehow passed it on to you, drop by drop, like poison in a silver spoon.

A little sigh escaped your juicy lips, slightly chapped by the cold. The creaking wood of the stable mixed with the warm scent of hay managed to soothe your restless mind a little. A well-deserved moment of quietness you knew wouldn’t last long but that was more than welcome nonetheless. If only you could have slept there, curled up in a ball against the mare’s flank instead of rolling and tossing in your large bed in Arrow House you’d have done it in a heartbeat.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the comforting melody of the wind and the leaves’ rustle play as you scratched the mare behind her ear. Her warmth beneath your palm and the sensation of her short-haired coat against your fingers kept you anchored as the winter air settled around your bones and numbed your pain.

 "So, are you happy?"

Your eyes flashed wide open, as though you had been torn from a far-too-realistic dream. The air in the stable suddenly felt thinner, harder to breathe. 

It couldn’t… 

The hand that was resting on the horse tensed as each of your nerves burst back to life with a deadly combination of recognition, dread and longing.

"You're not real." You managed to reply, though your haunting voice was barely above a whisper.

"You didn't answer," the voice said softly, "Are you happy, Hev?"

You felt the unmistakable presence closing in behind you, as if he were rising from both the fog and the darkest corners of your mind. One of the mare’s ears twitched, as if she had heard him too.

“You’re not fucking here.” You tried to be firm but you were already faltering. In fact, your heart pounded in your ribcage as a familiar scent covered the musky hay. It was faint at first, but the more you tried to ignore it, the more persistent it became. A mix of myrrh and tonka, sweet and faintly smoky, that clung to the air around you. 

“You’re not—” The strength you needed to finish your sentence faded away, leaving the remaining words to die in your dry throat. As for that damn perfume, invasive and vivid,  it wrapped around your spine as though you had never managed to scrub it from your skin despite these last three years and another man in your bed.

“You can keep pretending I’m gone for good if that makes you feel better, but we both know the truth.” His sultry voice vibrated through your body, shaking you to the marrow.

"You’re dead to me.” You spat, each word trembling with the effort it took to say them.

"And yet," He murmured and seemed to grow closer "I never left you."

Your stomach lurched like you’d just swallowed a whole broken glass, whose shards were slashing you from the inside. Heat flushed your face, but your limbs went cold, your knees locking to keep from buckling. Surely, it couldn’t be happening right?

So why was your pulse thundering in your ears, panic rising fast, raw and feral? Why couldn’t you find the courage to turn around and make sure he was a fragment of your imagination? Maybe because, deep down, you knew. You knew that some sick parts of you wanted to believe that he was really there.

“You never forgot me.” He added. 

A flock of birds burst out of the closest tree, swarming then flying away. 

“I tried to!” You suddenly cracked. It was too much: silent tears of diamond rolled down your cold kissed cheek, “I tried my fucking best!” As the confession slipped from your sinful lips, a maelstrom of long buried emotions crashed against you like a rogue wave. You started to tremble, the ball of sadness growing in your throat. You pressed your forehead against the mare’s warm neck, eyes screwed shut as if to hold back a flood. The creature moved gently beneath you and let out a low, sorrowful neigh for your grief had seemed to bleed into her.

"You did try." He replied. His tone was patient, but laced with the quiet, unbearable pain of a wound that refused to heal, ”you buried me alive and tried to build something new on top of our ruins… And now look at you, standing on your empire of lies. Are you sick of pretending?”

Every fiber of you coiled at the accusation, the bitter taste of guilt twisting your stomach.

“I thought…” You gritted your teeth, swallowing back your sorrow with great difficulty even though your tears continued to flow endlessly, “I thought a clean start would do the trick. I thought putting as many miles as I could between us would be enough. Hell, I even married someone else but you’re still fucking here. Always. Like an infection too deep to severe.”

A faint breeze blew in your long white mane, its moonlight strands fluttering in the wind. 

He was right. You had tried to outrun it and here was the sad, pathetic, result.

He spoke again after a brief silence. 

"Tell me, did you marry out of love?”  He asked, with words as sharp as a well-honed blade slid between your ribs, seeking to split you open and see the ugly truth that hid inside.  The voice was calm but it didn’t keep you from feeling the corrosive burn of it, “Or was it because you couldn’t stand being alone with the version of yourself your evil, twisted, disgusting monster of a former fiancé left behind?”  He didn’t need to say me for both of you to know who he meant.

More tears rolled down your seraphic face, their salty drops dying in your neck and dampening the mare’s coat. She gently poked you with her head, letting out a noisy sigh from her nostrils. 

“I was young. I was scared. And… what you did that night—” your voice cracked, the confession feeling like razor blades in your throat. You wished to keep blaming him for everything because it made things easier, but the thought of him on the church’s floor, screaming in agony as he brought his hands to maimed and bloody face flashed in your mind. Sure, he had tried to hurt you but the guilt was here nonetheless, acrid and nauseating.

“I know,” he said, quieter than before but with the sharp edge of something that sounded dangerously close to regret. “I relive it every time I close my eyes.” 

Silence stretched for what seemed to be an eternity.

“Do you really think so low of me?”

Your shit your eyes tighter, “It was the only way I could survive losing you.  I had to tear you apart in my head, piece by piece, ‘cause I knew I’d never get over you.“ Your breath hitched, your tight chest heaving as something inside you snapped. You gritted your teeth this time, finally giving up on your fight against your need to burst into real tears. What was the point, anyway?  

“But I ruin everything, don’t I?” you spat, reopening your eyes wild and wet, a surprising boiling fury igniting through the cracks. Different from your usual cold anger. Your fingers curled into a fist against the mare's side and, as you did, your wedding ring pressed into your flesh and seemed to cut deeper than the razor blade you had held one hour ago.  “Whether I mean to or not. Everyone I touch fucking dies or ends up shattered. That’s what I do, eh. I destroy. I rot things. And now look at me—” you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of it indescribably filled with sarcasm, “still clinging to a ghost I never let go of.”

You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand, trying to breathe through the tightness in your chest as three years worth of secrets finally came into light.

“You’re flickering, Light of my Life, like a flame in the wind, too tired to fight the night of Small Heath.” He murmured, but the resentment in his voice was gone now and replaced by tenderness. And somehow, his presence - this impossible fragment of him conjured by memory or madness, or both - didn’t scare you anymore. It felt like a blanket wrapped around you.

"Please Amos, stop haunting me..." Your voice cracked, thin and fragile, like a thread pulled too tight.

“Stop haunting me too, then.” 

“Don’t start,” You warned, shaking your head weakly in a denial that lacked conviction.

The mare stirred beneath you again as she sensed the storm behind your ribs.

 “Arthur is a good man, I don’t want to hurt him,” you murmured.

“He might be,” He said. “But you didn’t choose him. You ran to him.”

You closed your eyes again, pressing your forehead against the mare’s side a little more as if she could shield you from the tempest in your heart.

“Say it,” he whispered with the howling wind. “Say you never looked back. Say you don’t dream of me when it’s too quiet to lie to yourself.”

Your lips parted to deny, but no sound came. All that fell from your mouth was a shaky breath. You tried to resist, to shove it down where all the other truths rotted. But you couldn’t. Not anymore. 

“…I do,” you whispered, and the words felt like they tore straight through your chest.

“So come back to me, please.”

The sudden sensation of a tangible, warm hand touching your back tore you from the depths of your mind.

Jolting, you spun around in one quick movement, ready to unsheathe the knife you always hid in your garter. Against all expectation, it wasn’t Amos that stood behind you but Tommy, half-shadowed by the fog that curled into his feet. The expression that was etched on his perfect freckled face was unreadable, eternally cool, save for the worries that burnt bright in his piercing turquoise eyes.

“Are you alright?” He inquired with his hoarse voice, the thick brummie accent rolling on his tongue.

You blinked at him, looking confused as though you had just woken up from a feverish dream. His hypnotic gaze dropped to your thigh the moment a gust of wind blew your long dark coat out of the way.

“You’re bleeding.” He sounded concerned.

You looked down and noticed thin trails of crimson running down the inside of your thigh, soaking into the white fabric of your nightgown. The mare lowered her huge head to sniff it, visibly as worried as the Peaky Blinder Devil.

“It’s nothing.”  You retorted quickly as you tugged your coat around you, the memories of the two of you almost fucking in the living room crawling back to your skull.

It didn’t seem to convince him. Of course, you should have known that it wouldn’t be enough to push Tommy Shelby away. At least, he had the unexpected courtesy of not bringing up the fact you had been crying - quite hard to hide with your puffy red eyes and wet cheeks.

“It’s not nothing,” He stepped closer, slowly and carefully, as if you were a wounded animal too proud to limp. You took one step back as he did.

“Tell me what’s going on. You were talking to someone.” He growled, briefly surveying his surroundings to make sure no one was hiding beneath the stables but, sincerely, he doubted it.

“Oh.” You sniffed and, for the first time in years when facing Tommy, your gaze fled from him and locked onto the far away distance, just above his shoulder, “It was just me talking to ghosts,” Your lips stretched in a humorless smile that definitely didn’t echo in your empty eyes, “Quite fitting for the diabolical witch I am, right, Thomas? You’ve come right in time for the sacrifice.” 

Tommy didn’t reply with any dry remarks to insult you, nor did he take advantage of the situation to hurt you more as he used to do. In fact, he only watched you in silence, his eyes narrowing at the sight of you trying to brush off the topic. The tension in his square jaw betrayed his genuine concern, and though he didn’t offer comfort, he might be the fittest person to understand how you felt. How couldn’t he when he lived in the same kind of haunted house, plagued by the memory of Grace that seemed to inhabit the very walls of the mansion? The blue-eyed demon let out a long sigh through his nostrils before shifting his focus from you.

He approached again, stopping only once he stood next to your little frame. Then, he began to stroke the mare for the beast had grown anxious due to your inner turmoil. Horses were quite empathic after all. He had barely touch the animal when calm settled in her again.

“What was his name?” Tommy finally asked, out of the blue.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your fiancé. What was his name?” He continued without looking at you, remembering what you had said just before your hands wrapped around his neck.

I know the man you are because my former fiancé was cut from the same cloth. An egocentric criminal with bulging ambition, a far too high sense of self esteem and a greed beyond words. A man who dragged his loved ones down with him without even realizing it.

“No.” You replied, point blank. 

“No?”

“Don’t even fucking try.”  You gritted your teeth.Admittedly, you knew that Thomas Shelby had already done research about you so, naturally, he probably tried to find out more about the man who used to share your life. It seemed like it had been in vain — not surprising when considering how well Amos handled the information that circulated about him.

His shoulders slouched down slightly as he side-eyed you, observing the tight line your mouth was forming. There was no way you’d talk about him to anyone. Especially Tommy. Not when the memory of him still clawed at your chest like a second heartbeat and that just pronouncing his name felt like a stabbing wound. So you did what you did the best: swallowing it down and letting it decay where no one could reach it. 

Tommy focused on the mare again, finding a bit of peace in the beast’s aesthetic and its similarities to yours. All white and ghostly. 

“Do you know how to ride?”

You shrugged, “Yes, but it’s been a while.”

Tommy simply replied with a little hum before retreating into silence again. Here you both stood, petting the beautiful mare while the fog embraced you, like the Limbo’s mist calling two of its lost souls home. It was only after a while that he spoke again.

“You know… She haunts me the same.” He finally confessed, “Grace.” 

Your aquamarine eyes flicked to him, utterly surprised to hear the name leaving his mouth. One sole look at him was enough to notice how his jaw had tightened again. For a moment Tommy Shelby didn’t look like himself, but worn and far away as though not standing in the stable, but at the edge of a tunnel back in France.

“She didn’t frostburn like you do,” he continued, his gaze far off, “She was quieter. A calm strength that could move mountains. She had this way of looking at you… Like she already knew your worst, and loved you anyway. No flames. No storms. No shovels. Just peace.”

Somewhere behind him stood Arrow House bathed in darkness, the whole mansion a phantom of the bright, warm and full of life home it used to be when Grace walked around with baby Charlie in her arms.

Tommy blinked, trying to retrieve his composure, before reaching for a cigarette. As usual, he rolled the filter on his lower lips nervously and lit it with his zippo. You had always found this little quirk of him kind of charming. The silver cigarette case was presented to you, open and inviting.

You thanked him with a little nod and took one, letting the Peaky demon lighting the tip for you. 

It was only after a few drags that your lips parted, “There are people you meet and you know. Not because they’re good for you. Not because they make sense. But because something in your soul remembers.” A bitter smile ghosted over your fleshy lips.

His eyes flicked to you briefly.

“That’s what Arthur is for you?” He asked, but the way the corner of his lips curled show that he already knew the answer.

“Arthur’s a good man.” You repeated.

Tommy arched one of his brows.

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“No, it wasn’t.” You admitted, with your far-too-pale eyes fixed on the horizon as if Amos were standing there in the mist, just out of reach.

“Why did you marry him then?” His voice held no resentment for once, just plain curiosity.

“Why do you fuck with all the girls you meet?” 

The question took him aback, you saw it in the way he had coughed right after his magnificent blue eyes widened a bit. To be fair, watching him almost choke on his cigarette smoke could have been comical in different circumstances.

“The answer to our questions is certainly the same, Thomas. Just to stop bleeding.”

Tommy sighed, watching the cigarette consuming itself between his calloused fingers as he took the bullet. He brought it to his mouth and said nothing, unable to do so. All he did was stand there, the smoke of the cigarette that was hanging from his perfect lips framing his face as though he had just walked out of hell. Then he nodded, accepting the bitter truth: your pain was the reflection of his.

The mare gently nudged your shoulder, and, instinctively, you reached up and stroked her face.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love your brother sincerely but..” You couldn’t finish the sentence for something monstrous crept slowly through your veins. Not a sudden jolt nor another storm of emotions like the one you had gone through before Tommy interrupted, but rather the quiet, creeping certainty that there was something definitely wrong inside of you. A rotten, twisted, beyond redemption thing. You still remembered the night you met Arthur vividly. You had been singing in the silence of a candlelit church, letting your haunting voice rise like a prayer from the ruins of your soul. The enchanting lilt sounded as though it belonged to someone good. Someone holy. When Arthur Shelby stumbled in, bleeding, drunk and broken, you hadn’t asked any question nor shown fear, as would have the rest of Small Heath done when facing the Peaky Blinders’ mad dog. You, on the contrary, had simply gone to him and wipe the blood from his face with a torn piece of your own dress rinsed in holy water. Then you had cradled him like he was fragile creature, not a ticking time bomb.

He had looked at you, dazed and teary.

Yer an Angel. I swear you are eh.

Oh God, how wrong he was.

You weren’t an angel and you had never been. You were the abomination that had sung to mask the stench of blood that clung to your skin. The abomination that had murdered more than she could remember, stitched people together only to tear them apart when they got too close to what you kept buried beneath the surface ‘cause you afford them to know how fucking shallow, manipulative and twisted you could be.

Arthur had been so blinded by the light that he hadn’t noticed the shadows. A few crocodile tears and flutters of long lashes had done the trick to convince him further of your holiness. Of course, you had meant no harm to him. Your affection was sincere, it wasn’t just the same as you thought it would be. 

He thought of you as a savior, but the truth was you couldn’t tell if you were truly able to save someone, or if you just dragged people down with you.

As for Tommy… He had seen through it from the very beginning. One of the first things Thomas Shelby had told you before strangling you the day of your first encounter was that he wouldn’t tolerate a witch and a murderer around his family, nor would he let you take advantage of Arthur and ruin him. At that time, you had bitten back. You had been sharp,and defiant as you retorted that it wasn’t your intention - and you weren’t lying. But now, with all the blood under your nails and the rot inside of you coming to light as well as your marriage turning to shit, your realized the ugly truth: little King Shelby was right from the start.

“Tommy?” You called, surprisingly softly.

“Hm?” He looked at you, curious. The way you sporadically called him by his nickname never failed to stir something in him.

“I know now.”  You murmured as a bitter, creepy but utterly tragic smile stretched the corner of your desirable lips “I see why we’ve always hated each other so much. What binds us. What pulled us together like two magnets.”

He straightened, throwing his cigarette away in the fog. It shot through the air in soft orange light. His strong jaw was still tense, all the muscles ticking beneath his skin and suddenly, his hand reached for your face without any hesitation. His fingers, rough and cold, grabbed your chin between his thumb and index finger before tilting your face toward his. The scent of whiskey, cigarettes and expensive perfume rose all around you.

You leaned into his touch softly, tenderly, and looked at him — really looked at him. In his turquoise eyes you saw everything: the cold logic. The ruins. The grief that never healed. The habit of using sex to get whatever you wanted or dull the pain. The empire of lies and torn bodies. The blood. The self-loathing. The arrogance. Everything…

“So you finally admit that you fucking feel it,” He said without the shadow of a smile, but with a scorching intensity burning through his ice-cold eyes, the flames of hell dancing in his dark pupils and licking the edge of it.

You nodded slowly and as you did your mask cracked… Then shattered. It fell to the forest ground and splintered into a thousand jagged pieces. 

His hand didn’t move. His eyes didn’t blink. But the electricity between you crackled again, like the charge of thunder before it breaks.

“Enlighten me then, ey…” he rasped, almost like a dare, with his hoarse voice making the world quake around you.

You inhaled sharply, the wind whipping your long white hair across your seraphic face. It tangled across your cheeks, veiled your eyes in long streaks of ivory, bringing out the ethereal sharpness and perfect, inhuman symmetry of your features. Your beauty was too flawless to offer comfort. Too pristine to be trusted. Tommy stared at you, unblinking, because he knew — he had always known that face didn’t belong to something holy. No, it belonged to nightmares.

When you spoke again, the forest fell silent around you.

“That’s the thing about monsters,” you said, your siren voice mingling into the howling wind like a spell, “they always recognize their own.”

And for a second, just one, you both stood there like mirrors. No more lies, no more pride nor walls of ice built high around your hearts.  Just two fractured reflections in the same cracked glass, splintered differently, but born of the same mess.

It wasn’t Amos you had hated in him.

It was you.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @esposadomd @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia0082 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastic @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996@vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @lokigirlszendaya @justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature @jjovin3221 @randomcreator-09@weepingdreammarvel @meadowshelby

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

alright guys so important announcement...!

i'm probably going to be writing for blue lock way less now. don't get me wrong; i still love blue lock and it's still my 2/3 favorite manga series ever (tied with wind breaker), but i just think that now that we're finished with the nel and there'll be a barricade of new characters that we won't know much about, i don't want to write for one of them and look back on my fic a few months later when more of their personalities and background and egoist bible profiles are revealed and realize that i've mischaracterized them. as a writer, mischaracterizing a character is one of my greatest fears as a writer.

not only that, but i think that since characters like kaiser and nagi are both leaving blue lock and will likely not return until a few years later during the serialization of blue lock, it's a bit harder for me to write for them. they are both some of my favorite characters to write for, and having to constantly reuse and embellish my ideas for previous fics because we have such little content of them would be exhausting to me. i thrive off of new ideas and content; constantly using old content will drain me.

i also feel like i've just been losing passion for blue lock a lot. this could be because i just caught up to a manga i really enjoy and recency syndrome is catching up to me (wind breaker is the manga if you're interested) or because it's on breaks so often these days--which i do not blame kaneshiro and nomura for; their health is important--or because i know that the u20 world cup arc is going to be an excruciatingly long arc or maybe it's just because i'm complaining for no reason. i still really love blue lock, and it's always going to be special to me. i just think that at this current moment, blue lock is probably at it's lowest.

and i don't blame the authors nor the actual manga for it. i think that after such a series-defining arc such as the neo egoist league ended and so many characters are going to be leaving soon or have already left, blue lock is just really empty right now. and this is mostly a me problem; i tend to get pretty bored and irritated easily, and since this is the current state that blue lock is in, i'm just really having a hard time writing for blue lock. i've scraped wips after wips because of it.

with that being said, i'll still write for blue lock. not as often as i do right now, but still enough for you to see me every once in a while on the blue lock x reader tag. i promise; i won't disappear. if the manga has some sort of exciting update or a new volume of the egoist bible or some sort of big series development, i'll probably come back and start writing more often for bllk again. probably. no guarantees. i'll still try to be as active as i can with my writing (as many of you might know, i tend to disappear for a few days then come back for a few days then disappear again and the cycle continues), but i'll be in different fandoms. i'm currently thinking of focusing on wind breaker.

so don't get too sad; it's just temporary until my passion for blue lock comes back. and i'm so sorry to anyone who is upset about this! also btw, please don't see this post and get scared to send me any bllk asks or requests. i love all of your bllk asks and i think some of them are great ideas and really entertaining.

i love you all,

helen

[mission-light-if]

Mission Light - Lawyer Path Part 2 - Out Now!

Hello guys, it's me again :)

First of all, I know I said that I would try to upload the update by the 8th of April, but yeah, that didn't happen, obviously.

Before my top surgery, a lot happened, and I had no time to finish everything.

I also lost some of the things I had written because I was careless.

I was frustrated about that, and after the surgery, I needed some time to recover. I also had a few complications, and university started again.

By now, I've managed to rewrite a lot of what was lost, but not everything.

Since I finally want to put something out there, and it's been six months since I originally wanted to finish the lawyer prologue, I've decided to upload what I have so far.

Which, in itself, is also a lot—I'd estimate it to be around 170,000–180,000 words :)

Now, there are still about 3-4 things missing, but when you play the new update, you'll notice that I added a short text/info when that's the case.

I will add those sections in the future. There are also some more minor things I want to add here and there, so my work on the lawyer prologue isn't finished yet.

However, since I have worked on it so much, I’m really tired of seeing it at the moment. So maybe I'll start working on the next chapter first and then get back to what’s missing in the lawyer prologue later on to regain some motivation/fun in writing. I've been wanting to start the next chapter for so long; I finally want to write all the scenes I've been planning and more.

Honestly, it’s been an up-and-down process. Sometimes I was really motivated, sometimes I wasn't, and there were just parts I kept putting off because I had no fun writing them, but I needed them for the progression of the story. So, the quality of the writing may differ in some parts.

I also have to fix the scaling and the relationship/flirt points for some characters/parts, but that's something that only concerns me for now since they aren’t really relevant at the moment, but yeah.

Starting now, I want to do weekly updates. That means, at the end of every week, I’ll upload a new version with everything I’ve written and done during that week, so please remember that. It could be a new choice, just one new paragraph, or maybe a lot of new content.

I will always tell you what I added/changed, though.

If you find any bugs/code problems, please let me know on Tumblr :)

I also try to answer the remaining asks at some point, but it may take some time since I have an important exam coming up that I can’t fail because it's my second-to-last chance to pass.

Nonetheless, I’m really proud of what I’ve achieved.

It’s been almost a year since I started working on this project, and even though I would have liked to have published more by now, I’m really happy with what I’ve done so far.

The way it’s going right now, I’ll probably be writing this for like 5 more years, but that’s okay—art takes time, and I know I function differently than others, in the way I work, think, and how my energy levels work.

I’ve worked for at least three hours almost every day on this project, at least on the days I was home and not out, and it's the most, the longest, and the most consistent thing I’ve ever done.

Even if my writing, storytelling, progression, and choices aren't perfect, I’m happy I started this. Otherwise, it would have forever remained a dream of mine.

This is the project I always wanted to do: writing, game mechanics, my art, and my characters. So, I think this will be sort of my life project.

It's really, really far in the future, but at one point, I would love to add maybe a mini webtoon, mini-games, a better sidebar, more lore, game mechanics like a diary or letters, a timeline, some voiced lines, etc., stuff like that, and maybe even a character creator drawn by me, where you can create your own character.

That way, when I finish everything, I’ll truly have my dream work of art, incorporating all forms of art I like and everything I mentioned before.

I am grateful for every person reading and liking my story; it means so much to me.

Now for the update

This update includes:

Updated Prologue and First Part:

I changed a lot of the writing/internal struggles of the main character

I added the possibility to play matchmaker between Hongyu and Marcos/Maria

I added more depth to the main character's past with Noel and the lingering effects

I also changed a lot of the choices and their outcomes

I added a new system for Noel and the main character's dynamic (hate him, believe in good/nostalgia, afraid of him)

The New Second Part:

Meet Noel again and deal with him in different ways

Learn about your coworkers' superpowers

Pick one of two choices, leading to two entirely different fight paths

Awaken your own powers

Decide how to approach the fight with Noel (on both paths), leading to many individual fight outcomes (the two different broader paths with 4 main splits and even more choices on one, and 2-3 splits on the other)

Meet another agent, Min, in the aftermath of the fight and deal with everything that happened

Ask more questions and figure out more about what’s going on and went on behind the scenes

Prepare/start to get ready to confront Noel and his group in the next chapter to finally end things once and for all

Meet more agents (Sinan and Nayla) in the end and meet your group's pet dog, Vin :)

That’s it for now :)

Take care,

Jakob

Play here

[random-bs-is-found-here]

Soo I'm thinking of getting back into writing (for real this time) and I decided to write a short reunion story for each LaDS LI using this prompt I came up with:

One year ago, you disappeared without a trace. Everyone assumed you were long dead by now. But He hadn't given up on you. Until now. When He finally begin to accept that you might be really gone, He suddenly spots you in the distance. However, something's not right... You changed. Drastically.

Basically, this would all be about them finding you in different states of trauma. There would be a lot of angst while they try to reconnect and make you remember them (cause in all of their stories, you lost some, if not all of your memories of your previous life). Before I forget to mention, each story will be a crossover with a different fandom MC got isekai'd into out of nowhere.

Except for Zayne, I already have a good idea of what I'm going to write for each of the boys. I just have a hard time deciding who to write and when, which one should I prioritize.

Therefore, I'd like to ask you all which one do you want to see get written first the most!

Here are some things the stories are definitely going to include! Spoiler alert, if not interested, don't read!

Xavier: Since I'll be using my Hisui main team, you're going to have a shiny Golem.

Zayne: He's going to get hit by Petrificus Totalus.

Rafayel: "Not accepting quests" "Cutie WTF"

Sylus: You attack him with a hatchet.

Caleb: His colonel uniform sends you slightly into panic

Thank you in advance!

[peanutbutterandbananasandwichs]

Sam Week Day 4: LGBT+ Sam / favourite Sam dynamics / Sam & family

Had this one sat in the drafts for a while and since unfortunately I didn't have the time to write something new tonight (and don't want to get behind/skip a day) I thought I might as well finally set this one free :) It just so happens to hit all three of today's prompts so that's nice.

Shippy fluff not my forte so forgive me if it's a little cheasy, but also I promised something lighthearted today after 3 days of angst and I think this delivers (do not look at those last few lines, absolutely nothing to see here shhh).

Also I'll probably write what I orginally had in mind at some point because I liked the concept at lot.

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Also on Ao3

-

They stumble through the door of their dorm room together, they can barely keep their hands off each other. A month of shy, longing glances. Lingering touches when they’d both reach for the same book when studying together and their fingers had met. Knowing looks from friends when they sat just a bit too close together when they were all having lunch in the canteen. Neither of them were big on parties, but it was Alex’s birthday and she’d been very insistent that the “straight-A’s club” took a break for a minute to come let their collective hair down at least once before they all went home (well most of them) for the Thanksgiving break.

In retrospect, Sam suspects that him and Brady ending up mildly tipsy and alone together in the kitchen might have been part of Alex’s plan all along. Either way, something had broken the tension between them, and now here they were.

Brady pulls back from the kiss, and rests his forehead against Sam’s. Sam whines at the loss of contact with Brady’s lips.

Brady’s hands slide up Sam’s sides, eliciting a delighted shiver, fingertips grazing along his forearms, shoulders, his neck, until Brady’s hands are cupping Sam’s cheeks, holding his face with more gentleness than Sam has ever felt in his life. He feels dizzy from it. His eyes meet Brady’s, they are bright, shining, his pupils blown out with desire.

“Don’t worry”, Brady’s thumb traces across Sam’s cheekbone, light and delicate, “I’ll look after you.”

The way he says it, so soft and reassuring. Sam wants to tell him the way it makes him feel, but words don’t feel adequate right now. So instead, he presses his lips hungrily to Brady’s, he’s smiling as he kisses him, and he’s never felt more alive. This time it’s Brady who let’s out a whimper as Sam’s right hand wends its way into his hair, Sam thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. “Oh fuck”, Sam moans softly into Brady’s mouth. His free hand finds Brady’s left hip and he grips hold, digging his fingers in slightly, and shoves him firmly back against the wall behind them.

Brady breaks the kiss again, lets out a giggle.

“Oh so that’s how it is?” Brady raises an eyebrow, then he grabs the back of Sam’s neck and swings them around so now Sam’s the one with his back pressed up to the wall, and Brady is pressing every inch of himself to Sam. “You’re a dark horse Sam Winchester.” He mouths at Sam’s jawline.

“That’s a good thing right?” Sam asks breathlessly, his lips to Brady’s ear, a hint of nervousness slipping through.

“Yes.” Brady replies huskily, hands fumbling urgently at the buttons of Sam’s shirt as he speaks “Yes, definitely a good thing.”.

--

Sam’s eyes flutter open. He can feel the sticky warmth of recently sweat drenched skin pressing up against his back. Sam shuffles awkwardly, in the cramped space of the single bed, until he’s facing the other way, and sees Brady. Their faces are less than an inch apart, Brady’s breath tickles his nose.

Brady does he’s own awkward shuffle so now he’s sat propped up against the headboard. There’s a warm shaft of light peaking through the blinds and Brady is bathed in it. “Fuck” Sam thinks, he looks so gorgeous.

“Hey sleepy head.” Brady leans down and plants a kiss on Sam’s forehead.

“Hey.” Sam gives him a shy, dimpled smile.

A light and airy laugh escapes Brady’s chest “Dude, you can’t be looking at me all shy like that after last night!” To punctuate the point he tilts his head, exposing the side of his neck so Sam can see the faint outline of the bite mark he’d left.

That only serves to make Sam blush harder.

“God, you’re adorable.” Brady lifts his arm and lets Sam slide under it, Sam presses himself to Brady’s reassuringly firm chest. He tilts his chin up so he can still see Brady’s face.

“How do you feel?” Brady asks softly, running his left hand gently through Sam’s hair.

“I feel…” Sam pauses for a second, drinks in the calm, quiet of the, of their, room. He squeezes his eyes shut, and, as he’s done countless times since he got to Stanford, his teeth bite down gently on his upper lip, he let’s himself feel the sensation, the grounding realness of it, he counts to 5, releases his lip, and then opens his eyes. He’s still there. He decides to answer with absolute honesty, “safe.”

Brady looks at him, his forehead crinkles slightly in consternation, but he keeps combing his fingertips through Sam’s hair, his other hand slides down Sam’s chest, to the crest of his hip. Brady traces gently over the thin white line of the scar that runs over Sam’s hip and up to his waist. Sam’s breath hitches in his chest, both in pleasure at the sensation, and in anticipation of the inevitable question forming in Brady’s mind. Brady mutters under his breath “If I ever get my hands on that father of yours.”

Oh. Sam’s not told Brady, or anyone, much about his family, but Brady does know Sam doesn’t talk to them, and that his dad kicked him out, this is probably what any normal person would assume in the circumstances, that them, here together in this bed, might be why. Maybe he should feel guilty for letting Brady think his dad left that scar. And honestly, he doesn’t even know what dad would say to this. Sam’s already committed the greatest sin imaginable, against that, would this even register? But he’s almost relived to have something tangible for Brady to guess at.

Sam rolls over so he’s hovering over Brady, hands planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders, toes pressed up against the bedframe. “Ok tough guy”, he leans down and gives Brady a quick, grateful peck on the lips.

“Well I’d give him a piece of my mind anyway.”

This time Sam huffs out a laugh “I promise I’ve done more than enough of that for both of us.”

“Good!” Sam can tell Brady’s serious but he’s softening it with a fond smile.

“Besides,” Sam sighs, “I don’t even know where he is.” He flops down onto his back, next to Brady, and blows his bangs out of his face.

“Oh my god.” Brady exclaims.

“What?” Sam looks at him quizzically.

“Trust me to turn pillow talk into daddy issues trauma time!” Brady collapses forward, burying his face in his hands, mortified.

Sam reaches over, and hooks a finger under Brady’s chin, coaxing him to look up. Their eyes meet.

“You know, I thought you were such a jock when we first met.” Sam says a playful grin playing across his face.

“And then you talked to me for five seconds and realised I was a fucking awkward nerd? Brady’s cheeks are still flushed with embarrassment.

“Pretty much.” Sam shrugs, leans forward and kisses Brady softly.

“Glass houses Winchester.” 

--

“You’re gonna be ok, aren’t you?” Brady reaches forward and tucks a stray strand of hair behind Sam’s ear.

Sam gives him one of his little lopsided grins. “Yes, I think I can survive two whole days without you.” He steps closer and says playfully “You sleep with a guy once and he starts to think he’s gods gift.” He laughs softly and closes the gap between them, pulling Brady in for a kiss.

Brady claps a hand to his chest dramatically, “Ahh, I’m wounded, another victim of the patented Sam Winchester sass.” Brady takes his hand. “But seriously though, promise me you’ll be ok.”

“I will.” Sam’s response is soft and earnest this time. But then he can’t help himself and adds “Messed up childhood, I excel at being alone.”

“Not helping Sam!”

“Sorry.”

“Forgiven. You’re going to actually tell me about that one day though” Brady says. Sam realises the “kicked out for being gay” cover is maybe not quite as thorough an explanation for his whole deal as he’d hoped. Then Brady lifts up the corner of Sam’s shirt to reveal a series of long healed scars ranging down his side to his hip “and those. I was pretty distracted last night, but not that distracted.”

“Maybe.” Sam looks down, feels his whole body go on alert. Brady clearly sees the way Sam has tensed up, and has sensed he’s crossed a boundary. He takes a step back.

“Or not, it’s up to you.”

“Thanks.”, Sam gives a nervous little cough, clearly wanting to change the topic. “I’ve got homework to catch up on for Art History, that’ll keep me distracted.”

“Next year, you should come home with me!” Brady blurts out, he looks slightly surprised at his own forwardness, but doesn’t let that stop him continuing, the words tumbling out of him “I mean if I’d, ya know, known that,” he gestures broadly at the pair of them “this, was gonna finally happen, I’d have asked mom if it was ok before.”

Sam feels his chest tighten, the gesture is overwhelming, and he can’t help but think back to countless thanksgivings with Dean, and Dad, and a bucket of fried chicken, and way too many beers, and that horrible lingering tension of not knowing if John was going to laugh with them or rage before he passed out. He swallows. There was that one year though, with Stephanie and her family, he remembers the feeling, however temporary, of basking in the simple, safe, normality of it all. Maybe, maybe he could have that again, with Brady.

“I’d like that.”

[tsukikonikushimi]

Page 60 - The Boy Who Shattered Time

MASTERLIST

Since this page has a lot of illustrations I will simply go left -> right. I will crop the individual Ekkos

TOP AND MIDDLE Ekko's champion outfit explorations, from Episode 209

Our beautiful couple:

TimeBomb

Covered in doodles ("that's me" / "Jinx") and hearts.

The "best boy"

With a doodled crown upon his head: The Boy Who Shattered Time

LEFT Concept art for Ekko's Z-Drive, from Episode 207

LEFT Concept art for alternate-universe student Ekko, from Episode 207

"Would you dance with me?" (I love his outfit and how healthy and serene he actually looked in the AU, it makes you think how better their life would have been in Zaun if only the Council did something)

This little Ekkos are so cute!!

("Smart, smart, smart")

Bg of the page, which seems to be both a picture of the Firelight's tree (? not sure) and Ekko's notes

BOTTOM AU Powder's designs for the monkey zoetrope included in the Z-Drive prototype

Hopefully I didn't make any mistakes in copying this:

WHEN THEY WERE YOUNG, VI, POWDER, and Ekko were all very close and looked out for each other. Ekko worked with Benzo, eagerly awaiting the return of his friends from their wilder hijinks. As they got older, their destinies diverged. Jinx and Ekko stayed true to their natures as resourceful inventors, but their stance on Silco divided them: Jinx becomes his protégée while Ekko vigorously opposes him and the violence shimmer created. He becomes the leader of a resistance group called the Firelights. In Season 2, Powder resurfaces to be reunited with Ekko in one of the series's most poignant storylines—or rather, alternate storylines. Baudry recalls that part of what fueled the multiverse section of Episode 207 was the feeling that Ekko had been given short shrift early on and there was a need to make clear that he, too, was an inventor. "We worked at Fortiche on the first video of Ekko when he was realized as a cham-pion, and there were a few things that we couldn't hit," he said. "One of them is that he is supposed to be a genius. He is supposed to be Leonardo da Vinci. Basically, he's cre-ating his own math system or writing system. So we we wanted to show in that episode that Ekko and Jinx are part of an academy, and they are going to school. Ekko hasn't been as challenged, so he is great, but he's not inventing crazy stuff because his life was not as hard. Canonically, he's supposed to be the one in Zaun who is taking care of the orphans, so we have a bit of that, but he also has his group of teenagers who are fighting against the chem-barons." If anything, Ekko emerged as one of the most unlikely heroes of the show, rising to meet tough sometimes heart-wrenching challenges and becoming a charismatic, beloved leader. Yet Episode 207 suggests a hollowness, something forever missing. Talking about his relationship with the storyboarding teams, the Season 2 director Bart Maunoury recalled giving them a specific direction for a specific shot: "At the very end of 209, I asked them to position Ekko exactly the same way as when he kisses Powder at the end of 207—to show that he's still there, but she isn't."

And that's all for now! I had a busy week so I'm a little later than I would've liked to post this. Next one is Pg 55 - Victor's Commune, the last one in the poll of mid April. I received a couple more request after those so i'll probably do another poll to see in what order I should post.

This page was requested by Anon (-🎮🕹️).

[space-blue]

Oooh boy, that's a lot of drama based on the most insane nothing burger to date. Everything has been addressed in great detail and clarity, so I'll just be doing this brief statement because I didn't appreciate being @'ed for no good reason :

I own the standard copyright to all my arts and writing. Even if they were done in some playground AU once upon a time.

I own ALL the OCs I create, forever. I can, and will, transpose them to any AU I want, whether mine or some new friend's.

Playing in an AU with someone doesn't mean I have to have allegience or specific respect for them years later, especially not when they harassed me and have been blocked. Playing in someone's AU 2 years ago doesn't and shouldn't prevent me from exploring similar tropes down the line.

I don't owe anyone any justification for using common tropes. Nobody owns tropes. But especially not in fandom, where we are interacting with limited options due to the canon setting we're working with.

So long as no money is made out of my actual work, no crime is being committed by having an OC that's a copycat of mine. It's just terrible fandom etiquette.

If you believe that is what's happening to you, you should try to resolve things privately. If the evidence that it's coincidental isn't good enough and you don't like the other fan's attitude, you should block them and move on. If they harass you, you call them out for it and block them again.

That's what an adult would do, at least. What else is there? Threats, doxxing, like proper assholes? Like children?

Try explaining to a lawyer that someone is "stealing your online clout" by having a self insert OC that looks "too much like yours" on "tumblr" and "shipping them with the same character as you" and see how far you get with that one.

Tracing should always be called out and taken down where possible but luckily it's not an issue at all here. Ninekyuu (who has accused Sign of it) is either very uninformed on the current drama, doesn't understand the term, or is being willfully stupid and hoping their followers will not factcheck it. IDK which it is, but crying "Tracing" when there's no proof of it is like screaming "Murder!" after dropping ketchup on your own shirt. So... well played.

In this particular case, I already had the harassers blocked because I have ancient beef with them, when they harassed me off my own server at a stressful time (a process fully documented and archived, because I like good insurances, and I feel gratified in this now).

I was made aware of the situation with Sign and decided to help because it was a clear cut example of bullying and jealousy, and I don't stand for that.

Since I also don't like drama (and hate having to even write this right now), I decided to get involved in a more roudabout way, by drawing my OC Eyre with a cybernetic spine and tail, inspired after the Alien design from Knarme's sketches.

I did create my OC Eyre originally for Simulacra, a sandbox AU that only existed on a private server channel. Eyre is mine and I can move them around as I please, across AUs and fandoms, hence that art.

There is no lore for Eyre in Sign's AU.

I did that piece to support a fellow artist. I will not be writing in this AU or drawing more in that AU because I'm unfamiliar with the lore and I'm conclave-pilled.

I did a gift art in support of a new moot. Sue me. Or harass another poor Q shipper out of putting their OC in a white suit and watch me do it again.

And that's it. I won't explain or justify myself any further on the topic. You're all supposed to be adults, but I'm frankly starting to doubt that's the case. I just came off an 8h no breaks shift and I deeply resent having to type this with the last 20min of my day instead of a fanfic comment. If y'all were adults you'd have realised how abusive your attitude is, how childish, how terrible sending anon threats is, or creating burner account to go around blocks. If you were adults there wouldn't be enough free time in your day for this rubbish harassement campaign.

As Vincent Benitez would say,

Statement and realtalk:

I have to adress something open to you, something that is going on on bluesky atm.

It is one of the reasons why my chronic illnes is flairing bad up and noramlly I would not adress this on my blog, this blog is not about drama but I feel forced to do it:

(also I don't want you to harass anyone I mentioned in this post, I just want to view my side before they try to ruin my reputation even more. I want you guys just to know my side.)

I got accused of stealing the design form Ava from other artists, coz she has a white suit on and red curls. I proofed afterwards with a statement that she exsisted LONG before I joined the Avatar fandorm. But they don't stop talking openly about my name in bad manners, dragging my name to the mud. So here is my open statement I posted on bluesky already:

Just want to say: I see you, and I see your bullying behavior towards me. How you speak about me being evil while you call me a copycat and an entitled European. You step on me even though I just PROVED that my OC is not stolen. You never stop, even a person is already on the ground. You are evil. I'm not going to stop drawing a character in a white Lab coat just because these people don't like it. I can only advise you: if you see people publicly trashing other people, keep your distance from them. Don't support bullying. I didn't do anything wrong by having my character wear a white suit in a sci-fi franchise. It's a common trope in sci-fi, just like Ghost in the Cell and Alita: Battle Angel—just examples. Pinterest is full of such examples. So why shouldn't I have a character with a white suit? It's obvious in a sci-fi movie. Why can't my character have red curls to look like me? Is that forbidden now, too? Am I no longer allowed to have red curls?

Ava is a cloned human with a cybernetic spine. She doesn't even have a kuru. She's a test subject and won't have much to do with the suit once she's out of the lab. One of the core aspects of Avatar is the aspect of artificial bodies, so its also not really something only one group of people can claim, as their "IP". I hate to openly discuss this and address it. But I won't let the perpetrators continue to bully me. They'll just continue to show their true color by continuing to publicly drag my name through the mud. I suggest we just leave each other alone from now on. I'm working on my sick note, and she's working on hers. You two should just start behaving like adults again, not like 10-year-old elementary school bullies. My proof that I designed Ava before I joinded the fandom: bsky.app/profile/ritr... Her character sheet with more infors to her origin story outside of the Fandom: bsky.app/profile/ritr... I don't know what else to say, except that I want you to stop, because I'm not going to stop drawing Ava. Just leave me alone to enjoy myself. I've been warned by so many people independently of these people, and I always form my own opinion. But they've clearly shown me that it's true: they systematically exclude people, publicly drag their names through the mud, and bully them. This has to stop. I don't want anything more. And because my name was also publicly dropped, I'm now also publicly speaking out names: It's about the bullies: Celbizarro, kingsevil, hypodriive, mapiezaddy, sabasquatch I could drop more names, but I'll leave it at this point. These people are together on an Avatar AU Discord and are united against one person. It's an echo chamber of bullies, and I want people to understand that. I'm not going anywhere. I'm peaceful and just drawing a red-haired woman in a white suit. Inspired by many sci-fi universes out there. People need to understand that similar concepts that aren't even that original, like a simple white suit in a sci-fi universe, red curls, or a clone in an Avatar universe, don't necessarily mean that anything was stolen. No attempt was ever made to clarify this with me privately or to ask about it. Why do people embrace my idea of ​​painting cloned creatures and humans? Quite simply, because it seems to have been forbidden by a certain group, and you can't forbid something so simple. It's meant to prove a point. side note: I didn't encourage anyone to be inspired by my AU. These are just people who support my idea, and I'm not saying it's unique, but I'm not going around accusing everyone of stealing it either.

here again my screenshots, that I had ava since 2018 and designed her suit 2023:

(If you wonder about my screenshot. I have a German PC I had to translate it with Google lens so everyone can understand. So I added the original and the translated version. Also the created status is newer than the last edited, coz I moved all my files to a new storage. But edited means, when I worked on it the last time in my art program. Last acces is when you view a picture in big.)

I have more old pictures and artworks from her to prove my point. I never ment to steal anything and I never did. It looks similar coz Avas look is a common look in the sci-fi franchies.

Here is also pictures, that shows that I drew white suited characters quite a while already:

Its just a trope I really enjoyed already since ages.

And here my OWN design for an adapter for her cybenetic Spine:

Also more proof how old Ava my OC is already

Even with her new suit already:

The oldest pictures I have from her:

I joyined the Avatar fandom 10 month ago on tumblr and bluesky btw (my bluesky acc is older than that, but I was not active or part if the fandom.)

The thing is, I just want my peace and I want you guys see this before you hear their bully words from somewhere. I want you to know my side. I never wanted to do harm or have a fight. I am a chronic ill person and this blog is my safe space.

I just want to be in peace!

I blocked all these people above and just want them to let me alone. They don't need to like me, but they should stop dragging names from others through dirt. Thats the worst behavior and they call ME evil and I am just trying to defend myself and try to have fun. Nothing more than that.

I hope you are not mad about me, that I shared this openly on my blog this time and I hope its the last time I have to do that. What else can I do more than just proof that my OC Ava is an old OC of mine that I've now turned into an avatar AU to have a little fun with it. Without any ulterior motives, without stealing anything, because I didn't need it, I already had the design finished, yeas ago.

I hope this is enough for me to get some peace and that I finnaly can enjoy the fandom now and they let me do my own thing. I just want to have fun with you guys drawing about my characters and enjoying the fandom. Nothing more.

Thanks to everyone who read this long post till here. I know its silly that I was even presured to adress this childish behavior of these people. Stay save and happy.

Signfromeywa/ -> RiTroxart.

[wilting-fl0wer]

The only correct form of caltam, as far as i am concerned

[longagoitwastuesday]

I am liking Jujutsu Kaisen, way more than I imagined I would, but I foresee it will let me down and it's keeping me from enjoying this as much as I could haha

I think the characters and dynamics are well set, and I think many of them have an incredibly good and deep potential, but I would be willing to bet they'll not get a proper development, enough for them to really hit. A well assembled set of gears is not enough to make the movement go, you have to wind the clockwork.

I think Gojo and Megumi have a fascinating and very complex dynamic, but I doubt it will be given the time and care that imo it needs to actually work. And it is going well enough for now! One could see the intimacy between them was deeper than the one Gojo had with, say, Yuji and Nobara ever since the very first few episodes despite the fact Fushiguro too was a first year. But the pieces forming what they have are extremely complex, and it just wouldn't be realistic if it doesn't show, even if in a not showing way, or if it doesn't have consequences or implications.

It's one of those dynamics that shape one's life, the way one regards the world, the way one establishes or not relationships with other people. It's one of those dynamics that could be full of fondness, gratitude, resentment, admiration, trust, and that imply intimacy, the good kind or the bad, even if in just the knowledge of someone who's been a constant through your life. It could, and would, imply a myriad of feelings, and probably in such a mix it could imply contradictory feelings too. Even the nothingness would weight, even the nothingness would be significant and meaningful.

Gojo took Megumi and his sister under his wing, the son of a man who murdered him, because of both selfish and selfless reasons. Megumi looks like Toji. What does Gojo feel about this? How does Gojo deal with this? How does Gojo go about taking care of Megumi? Would he walk him to school? Make him breakfast? Celebrate his birthdays making him blow candles? Did he take him to the zoo? Does the relationship between them feel professional or is it something more? Gojo appreciates his students, but is Megumi to him just another student? When Gojo faces Sukuna in Megumi's body, did he see the kid he raised, or does he just see Sukuna in one of his students' body? Did he have one faint wavering instant? And how does Megumi feel about this? Is he resentful of him? Resentful of the situation? Of the selfishness behind his actions? Does he feel like a pawn? Is he grateful? Does he resent feeling grateful? Would he rather not? Does he love Gojo? Does he feel nothing about him other than what he could feel about a teacher that sort of annoys him but knows he's reliable in his strength? Does he think it unfair, cruel or unfeeling that Gojo is close, closer perhaps, with Yuuji or Yuta, considering their story? When Sukuna slices Gojo in two, does the remnants of Megumi's soul tremble?

And not just Megumi and Gojo. Yuuji and Nanami, Gojo and Nanami, Yuuji and Fushiguro, Nobara and the boys, or Nobara and Maki, Todo and Yuuji or Yuta, Gojo and Yuta, Megumi and his sister. Gojo and Geto, even! If the pieces are well set, the dynamics are intriguing, interesting, and have potential to be deep, but then the characters have like two plot relevant scenes that punch you hard, but little more, it's not nearly enough. Especially not nearly enough for the enormity that is shonen dynamics and situations. And the potential existing at all, and then not delivering, makes it all the more frustrating when you're left with something mediocre that could have been so good.

The development of dynamics through not only a few plot relevant gut wrenching moving scenes, but also the smallness of life, is important. The friend who recommended this to me said that those things were just unnecessary filler, but I disagree. I think there's a big difference between a large amount of anime-only filler episodes whose existence is based on the fact they had run out of manga chapters to animate, and moments of quietness. The low stakes character-driven moments of quietness can be so telling and so insightful, and they are so satisfactory when brought back later in higher stakes situations. My friend teased me there was no scene of Gojo making breakfast to Megumi, that it would be an idiotic idea, but it would be so telling. How he makes breakfast, what they eat, if he tries hard or if it's all mechanised, if they have personal bowls or if they use whatever, if he just buys them some pastry on the way to school, if the way they have breakfast changes through the years, or if he doesn't make them breakfast at all! All that would be very insightful on their dynamic and its evolution. All that would give a glimpse on how they regard each other and why, even in the present. All that could become meaningful in tense situations and high stakes scenes.

These moments also let the plot breath; if a lot is happening all the time, if every character is always experiencing trauma after trauma, the entire story is so emotionally draining that at some point you don't even care all that much. Besides, these nothing moments or low stakes plot arcs, besides deepening and developing dynamics, also let some in-world time pass, which would make the intimacy and bond between characters more believable imo; between Yuuji eating Sukuna's finger and their last confrontation in December how much time has passed? A few months? Am I truly to believe these characters are so everything to each other in only a few months?

Without some smallness, some repetition, some daily life, some low stakes not plot-centric development, the dynamics don't hit, they don't truly feel fleshed out, and dynamics as complex as the ones Megumi and Gojo have, or as supposedly meaningful as the one Megumi has with Yuuji or his sister, should be fleshed out if they're going to exist at all. Otherwise they'd risk making the writing feel awkward and fake. Besides, if the dynamics felt well fleshed out and realistic, they would shape the way the characters interact and act, and how they deal with situations, thus being plot relevant.

The shonen genre has so much happening all the time, the stakes are so high, the dynamics are so rooted in big events and the relationships carry enormous weight and implications. Yet they barely get developed, and it feels so stupid, so plain, the absence of something so important noticeable like a constant void, a shapeless nothingness present in every scene. It makes the characters feel like cardboard figures. Jujutsu Kaisen is already getting a better job than many, but I doubt it will do enough for what I've heard, and I fear I am bound to feel let down, and bound to feel unmoved.

After all, if not enough time and care has been given to develop a dynamic, I am not going to feel pressured by the high stakes; if not enough time and care has been given to develop the dynamic between Megumi and Yuuji, as good potential as it has I am bound to feel little for this last confrontation between Sukuna and Itadori, and his effort in getting Megumi back.

[sskk-manifesto]

What a good episode. Maaaaaan

[youremyonlyhope]

I'm not a "new musical theatre style music" person. Never have been.

Even when I was doing voice lessons, I'd steer towards the golden age or jazzy musical theatre songs. My voice teacher would have to drag me kicking and screaming towards adding anything new musical theatre to my repertoire. For a while, the most modern song in my book was I Know The Truth from Aida, and I wouldn't count that as new musical theatre style since I mean more the Pasek&Paul or Joe Iconis type.

And now I have an audition coming up for a small production of a show in that style and I'm supposed to sing a song in a similar style. And I'm looking at all my sheet music like... let me do some Cole Porter... or Gershwin... at least Sondheim please...