#all of these characters are ridiculous but i love them

[arcane-ruined-my-gut-flora]

I love how people think this was the only problem. Arcane's pillars are the writing, the world building and the animation. In this season, only the animation matched s1's level because everything else couldn't keep up with the quality they set before.

And before anyone comes at me, you can enjoy the show, I'm not telling you to hate it. I actually envy those who managed to enjoy it because I could only notice the fatal flaws, the cartoonish representation of the main characters and the lack of continuity in the plot development.

The writing is ridiculous. I'm not saying it because I want to hate on the show, but because I loved it with all my heart and it disappointed in a way I couldn't even fathom. We lost the most important part of it: the slow, meaningful moments between characters, the ones that helped us see how they felt and what they thought, how their relationships changed and views shifted.

Take Isha and Jinx. We have the before, and we have the after, but where's everything in between? Jinx pushed Isha away at first, then the next scene they're best friends, and I simply can't accept this in a show that is ALL about building connections.

They added random characters that turned out to be completely useless. Was I supposed to feel bad when bad things happened to them? I was like "oh, alright."

But most importantly, they stripped away the conflict between Zaun and Piltover. They inserted a common enemy so that they'd put aside their differences to defeat it (that's also literally the only reason why the Black Rose "makes sense". It's literally used for the bossfight and to set Mel up for the next series, nothing else).

After the fight they're all good. Forgive and forget, right? That's how you make peace with your oppressor, without even having a single fucking conversation, a damn confrontation or something. The power of friendship, the power of "we're all the same, we just want to live and we must stick together to defeat the baddest guys! It doesn't matter that you treated us like shit on your soles for years!!! Now we're all friends and we have a seat in the council!!"

This season is a goddamn joke.

People can rant about the pacing of season 2 all they want, but the fact that they managed to fit a climax this epic and cathartic and painful this seamlessly in a single episode is nothing short of genius.

Like... y'all they really had it all

[mononijikayu]

forg_tful — fushiguro megumi.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them.  Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  “Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor. You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

GENRE: alternate universe - grim reaper au;

WARNING/S: mythical beings and creatures, aged up megumi, heavy angst, romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, unhappy life, depression, illness, hurt, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, humor, guilt, pining, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, depiction of character death, depiction of illness, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of panic attack, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, grim reaper! megumi, long suffering dying! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: when i was dabbling about what to post, i did a wheel of names and megumi won so here is another megumi fic. i was talking with @midnight-138 the other day and we got in this conversation about goblin, the kdrama. and there were grim reapers there. so i ended up writing about that here. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did!!! anyway, i love you all <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

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THERE IS A WONDER ABOUT HUMAN DESTINY. You heard a story about it then, at the orphanage. One of your carers would tell you about it often. How humans were born into this destiny in this new life after their old one.

And this life is determined by how good or bad that past life was. And that each and everyone must live a good enough life in each cycle, in order to have a good life in the next.

When you were a child, understanding this concept felt like a challenge. How could one’s destiny ever be decided just like that, by things you don’t even remember? Who gets to decide whether or not we are good?

Is good and bad easy to tell? You would ask the older kids at the orphanage this, and sometimes you caretakers. But they never seem to understand why you could not accept it as it is. 

After all, you were a child. And a child would always find that ridiculous, you think. You were a child. You haven’t done anything wrong. Not to anyone. Not about anything.

You doubt you could have done something in your past life that should warrant any punishment. You were someone people knew to be a good kid, you always have been. People looked at you warmly, ever so kindly. 

But now you can only say that you know better. You have grown up. You had seen the truth. And it was not good, it was ugly and rotten. It was a tragedy. And you hated it. You hated everything about it.

Because your past life, your past self — they might have been a terrible person. They must have been the worst of the worst. Because, if you weren’t, then what justifies that sad suffering? That painful existence you had lived up until now.

You sighed heavily, taking in the whiff of bitter antiseptic, that artificial fragrance. You like to think you’ve been cursed to live a sad life. And today was just another proof of it.

Every thought of it just lingers like a familiar shadow, whispering in the quiet moments when you’re too tired to fight back. It’s easier to believe in curses than coincidences, easier to pin your pain on something cosmic than accept a world so indifferent.

You were an orphan, after all. Not in the storybook sense where miracles come to those who wait, but in the raw, unvarnished truth of it. Alone from the start, without a name to cry out to when the nights felt endless.

There was no mother to call for warm hugs, there was no father to give you reassurances. Just that cold metal bunk bed, which creaks at night as you twist and turn and the dark moonless nights.

You were passed from one place to another, faceless in a system that churned endlessly, always one more lost child than it could handle. You kept being told that it wasn’t that because you were unlovable, that’s what they always said.

But it was just that they found out what love looks like when they look at someone else, at another child that they think fits in their family. That was just how they felt they said, that was just their truth. And it shouldn't be personal. 

You learned early on that love wasn’t guaranteed, that kindness wasn’t free, and that your worth was measured by how little trouble you caused. And just like that you grew up in that orphanage, being your own parent, being your own mother and father, your own sibling. Your own family.

When the kids at school found out, they immediately latched onto it. The teasing started small, barbs disguised as jokes, but it grew sharper, crueler. Just as the years dragged on, they had grown to be even crueler, even more vicious about being someone like you. 

Even as you started to have your own life and slowly became an adult, you found that people would never think to give you anything. You had expectations at one point that people would be more understanding. That they would give you more grace about it. 

But you would find yourself broken up over by your significant other because their mother didn’t like that you had no one in your family. Well, their mother never liked you from the beginning.

They thought you were difficult and had no manners, all because you never had a family, no parents to teach you all the things that would make a good person.

You would find yourself having friends and then getting into fights with them when you couldn’t show up for them at times, because you had to work multiple jobs to get through college.

Or how you couldn’t hang out with them because you had to take another shift for extra cash for your rent. They would say, what would be the need of you if you can’t be there?

Over time, you found yourself isolated from the world. No matter what you did, you found yourself alone. You found yourself unable to please people, unable to keep people. Unable to attain happiness or peace in this life. And over time too, you stopped expecting anyone to step in. You stopped expecting anything at all.

You’ve had a rough life—that’s what they’d call it, isn’t it? A neat little phrase to gloss over the thorny, jagged edges of this existence. It was as if that phrase could capture all of the nights spent crying into your pillow, the gnawing hunger for connection, for someone; the sense that the world moved on without ever noticing you.

And somehow, your misery can only continue.

It started with little things, barely noticeable at first—a name you couldn’t recall, a face that seemed familiar but unplaceable. Then it got worse and worse as time went by. Days lost to a haze of things you couldn’t explain, moments slipping through your fingers like water flowing downstream. 

You didn’t wanna worry about it that much in the beginning. Maybe you’ve been working too hard. You’ve taken so much work these past few weeks. And maybe you had forgotten to eat anything.

You had a sensitive stomach, after all. Maybe that’s what has been causing the fatigue and the headache. Maybe the headaches are the reason you’ve been forgetting a lot of things. Yeah, that’s what it could be.

Yet, it just never went away. Even with the lifestyle changes, even when you would cut back on work to take care of yourself and rest. Nothing had changed. In fact, the pain had only gotten worse.

And more and more, you would find yourself forgetting things more and more. At one point, you had cried so much after forgetting which street you lived on after work. 

You had felt your head spinning, your vision went on a blur and that night lamp began to burn against your eyes. Your breath labored over and over, and you had tried to get it controlled — but you couldn’t. Tears fell even more as you leaned against the lamp post. You felt like you were going to collapse.That you were going to throw up on the floor. 

It took some time for yourself to regain some control, you knew that much. You just stayed there, letting the tears fall. You still didn’t remember where you had lived. You were forgetting it all. And that frustrated you to no end. You knew then that this can’t continue happening. That this cannot continue on. 

That’s why you came here in this godforsaken place known as the hospital. You’ve always hated hospitals. It was such a terrible place. Even as a child, getting your check–ups with the other orphans terrified you. Nothing about this place spells any good. You were already with bad luck, with such a terrible destiny in this life and you didn’t want it to continue.

But you cannot control destiny, not ever.

You could only control yourself. 

And even that, you cannot have control.

Not anymore, not ever again.

The doctors confirmed it: a rare, terminal illness. Brain cancer, in its final stages. Not only was it going to kill you, it was going to take everything that made you along with it.

Your memories, no matter how horrible, your identity, no matter how empty, your self, no matter how broken. All of who you are — you'd fade away in pieces, becoming a hollow shell long before your body gave out.

You thought the universe had no more ways to hurt you. 

But you knew you were wrong, from the very beginning.

And then, on a night when the weight of it all felt unbearable, you saw him.

He wasn’t what you expected. No black cloak, no skeletal frame, no cold, lifeless eyes. The grim reaper was... human. Or at least, he looked that way. His dark colored hair fell in soft, dark strands over his forehead, his clothes unassuming—a rather plain and boring suit, even.

But there was something in his presence, a quiet intensity, that made your heart skip. His blue-green eyes, sharp and unreadable, pinned you in place, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“Who are you?” you asked, though deep down you already knew.

He studied you in silence for a moment, as though deciding whether you were worth an answer. Your eyes narrowed at him, as though trying to make sure that this isn’t just your brain making a mess of you. But he wasn’t. He was very much real. He was very much here. Finally, he spoke.

“Megumi.” he said. His voice was calm, steady, but there was something beneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. You hadn’t expected that from a grim reaper. You had expected something more rough. Something more….grim.

“Is that all?” you pressed, desperation clawing at your throat. You wanted—no, needed—to know more. Why him? Why now? Why couldn’t you just be left alone?

“That’s all you need to know about me.” he said simply.

His words were a wall you couldn’t scale. No matter how hard you tried, you knew there would be no answers, no explanations, no mercy. At least not until you were dead. You sighed, leaning against the bench.

This was it. The final countdown was coming soon. There was no escape. Yet, as the silence stretched between you, a strange feeling took root in your chest. Not comfort, not exactly. But something close. It was at least something. And for once, you weren’t alone.

You didn’t know what this grim reaper, this Megumi, was meant to be to you. What was he? Was he a guide, a witness, a judge? You didn’t know. And perhaps it was easier not to ask questions, to not know. 

But as you continued to sit there, staring at the one who would carry you to your end, a thought crossed your mind. At least he wasn’t judging you. At least he was just there, waiting. He was calm as can be, quiet and without any grievances towards you. 

Perhaps, maybe — at least he wasn’t as cruel as life has been. You began to think to yourself as you closed your eyes about one thing. Maybe if he was here, then maybe the end wouldn’t be so lonely after all. Maybe there will finally be some sense of peace at the end. 

You opened your eyes, your lips seeping into a small smile. “I look forward to meeting my end with you.”

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AS THE TIME GOES BY, HE WAS WITH YOU IN EVERYTHING. No one else around you could feel or see him the way you do. And he couldn’t go anywhere else. He was bound to you, until he could take your soul away and bring it with him. So, Megumi continued to watch over you as you continued to live your life, or at least what remains of it.

At first, his presence unnerves you. You weren’t used to this, being watched so closely almost everyday and every hour — especially with what remained of your miserable life. But slowly you found yourself getting used to him being around. And at the very least, he still gave you space when you did things that required privacy.

Otherwise, he’s always there, quiet and still, like a shadow you can’t shake. And as the days stretch into weeks, you begin to realize that he isn’t all bad. He does talk, sometimes. At least when he thinks you do something worth giving a response about.

He was truly quite reserved and serious half the time, yes, and almost cold in the way he speaks and carries himself, but there’s something beneath it. It wasn’t easy to notice at first, because it was ever so subtle. It was as if he never wanted anyone to notice that there was  something soft within that hard exterior of his.

Megumi didn’t seem to fit his job description—not at all. He was patient in a way you didn’t expect from a reaper. From what you’d gathered from folklore and stories about grim reapers, you imagined something far more ominous.

Shadows and sickles, maybe even whispers of death. But Megumi? He had a quiet presence that felt nothing like the foreboding figures you’d pictured.

When your mind betrays you, when a memory slips through your fingers like grains of sand, Megumi is there. He doesn’t judge the gaps, doesn’t rush you to remember. Instead, he catches the loose ends with an ease that seems effortless. 

Sometimes, it feels as though he’s more of a guide than a harbinger, steering you gently through the storm of forgetfulness. His voice is steady, grounding. His gaze is understanding, never invasive.

There’s a calmness to him, a patience that wraps around you like a soft cocoon. It’s disarming. You wonder how someone charged with ferrying souls could be so tender. Yet, when you look at him, you see no malice, no hint of the cold indifference you expected. Just the faintest trace of weariness in his eyes, as if he’s carried too many burdens that aren’t his own.

Sometimes, you forget who he is. And in those moments, Megumi doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets you speak, lets you ramble, and when the memory comes back, when you remember why he’s here—he doesn’t revel in the grief.

He simply nods, a quiet acknowledgment that this, too, is part of the process. He’s not here to rush the inevitable; he’s here to make sure you don’t face it alone.

“Your nurse’s name is Alice, by the way.” Megumi says again when you struggle to introduce yourself. 

You could feel your mouth fumbling over syllables that don’t quite fit together. Your cheeks feel red at the thought, now remembering as she smiled at your direction. You waved at her. His voice is calm, steady, like he has all the time in the world to wait for you to find your footing. You blink at him, your thoughts swirling too fast to make sense of.

 “Huh?” you finally ask, the confusion thick in your tone. 

“She takes care of you in the mornings. Alice always makes sure to bring your meds with water, no ice.” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to know. “You told her once that cold water hurts your teeth, so she makes sure to bring you water without ice.

You glance down at your hands, unsure of what to say. His eyes felt warm against your own as you nodded slowly at him, trusting his words. Those details feel foreign to you, like a story you heard about someone else. But his words fit, even if you can’t remember saying them. They were warm, they felt truthful.

“Oh.” you mumble with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He looks away from you. “No problem.”

Later, in the cafeteria, you sit in front of a tray of food that feels unfamiliar. Your appetite is as absent as the clarity of your thoughts. You stare at the carton of apple juice, its horrifically bright label somehow irritating, though you can’t pinpoint why at all.

“You liked orange juice better than apple.” Megumi says, breaking the silence. He gestures toward the carton with a small nod. “That one’s your favorite. Not too sweet, not too sour.”

The simplicity of the statement hits you like a lifeline, tethering you to something concrete. You pick up the carton, turning it in your hands before setting it back down. You smiled at him again, but this time almost a mix of relief and embarrassment. You were relying on your grim reaper to remind you of everything, now more than ever.

“Thank you.” you say again, a little louder this time, just enough for him to hear.

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you decide to pull out the small notebook you’ve been keeping. Your doctor suggested it as your brain got even sicker. You needed to remember something and so this notebook, it was your place to track your thoughts before they disappear entirely. 

You scribble furiously, trying to make sense of the jumble in your head. You’re working on a sentence about feeling forgetful, but the words tangle together, your handwriting messy and uneven. You pause, staring at it. Something feels wrong. Something feels off. Your face contorts, your eyes narrow at the page.

“You missed an E.” Megumi says softly, leaning over to glance at the page. 

He doesn’t reach for the notebook, doesn’t try to take it from you. Instead, he taps the spot with his finger, just enough to draw your attention. Your eyes blinked. Sure enough, forgetful is written as forgtful. You bite your lip, heat rising to your cheeks as frustration bubbles up. 

“I—I know that, you know?” you say defensively, though the truth is you hadn’t noticed until he pointed it out.

He doesn’t laugh or tease you. “It happens, don’t worry.” he says simply, his tone free of judgment. “You caught it now. That’s what matters.”

You glance at him, expecting pity, but his stoic expression is as steady as ever, like this moment isn’t something to dwell on. You pierce your lips in a tight line. You carefully picked up your pen again, correcting the error with a shaky hand. 

“Thanks for telling me.” you mutter, embarrassed but grateful.

“You were talking about your favorite teacher, earlier.” he reminds you a little while later, after your thoughts derail mid-sentence. 

You’d been telling him about a memory. It was a rare one, where everything about it was good. It was such a warm, fuzzy one that had felt so clear in your mind just moments ago—but now it’s slipping away, leaving you grasping at straws.

You look at him, feeling lost. “I... was?”

“You were.” he confirms with a small nod, his tone encouraging. “You said they were the first people to notice how much you liked writing. You were just getting to the part about their funny laugh.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right!” you whisper, the thread of the memory slowly weaving its way back into focus. “Right. Mr. Greene. He laughed like a seagull.”

Megumi doesn’t laugh at the description, but his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smile. That was a rare thing, you knew that. But you like to think that maybe, just maybe, if he tried — he would look even better when he smiled. He already has a handsome face, you knew that. But maybe, his smile, it would make it even better.

“That’s it.” he says, his voice carrying a quiet kind of approval.

It’s small, these moments of clarity he gives you, but they feel monumental in a life that’s slowly crumbling. For a moment, you feel like you’ve reclaimed a small piece of yourself, and you can’t help but glance at him, wondering how someone like him, a reaper, of all things can make you feel more alive than you have in a long time.

You can’t help but admit it but he was your first true friend.

He was your longest companion to boot, with that.

And perhaps, he will be the only constant you’ll ever have.

But maybe he already knew that and he just doesn’t tell you.

He accompanies you often, especially in the long, quiet hours spent tethered to hospital machines. The hum of monitors and the rhythmic drip of IVs become a backdrop to his steady, unobtrusive presence. At first, you think he’s only there to observe, to do whatever grim reapers are supposed to do as your life ticks away. 

But the longer he stays, the more you realize he’s keeping you company at every appointment. Keeping you from being so alone. Even if it was his job, he could wait elsewhere. But he sits beside you, in an empty chair no one dares sit at. 

And he stays, throughout each and every appointment. Appointments which barely keep you alive. It was only a matter of time before he had to deliver your soul to wherever it had to be.

You started to wonder if he’ll think about this time with you too. If he will find this moment to be something that will cross his mind once this job, you, were done and gone. 

It’s strange, this relationship you’ve fallen into. He doesn’t talk much unless prompted, not unless you forgot something or need anything. But you like to think that you could start to rely on his silence. Especially when doctors and nurses give you all those complicated jargons that you didn’t even need.

It fills the void in a way words can’t. When you’re too tired to make conversation with visitors, when there are visitors, probably motivated by guilt or necessity, your grim reaper Megumi is there. Unfailingly, he would be sitting by your bedside, his gaze steady, his presence grounding. As though he wants to give you strength to deal with it all. 

But of course, as  you already know, no one else can see him. Just you. At first, you tried explaining him to the nurses, the doctors,  or when you felt like talking about something you knew he would listen to — but the looks they gave you were enough to stop. They chalked it up to the illness, the stress, or the medications. 

But Megumi is real. You know he’s real. The way he moves, the way he seems to sense your thoughts before you speak them, the way he exists on the edges of your life without ever intruding.

The way a glint in his eyes would appear warmer than before. He was here. He was there with you. You weren’t going crazy. And he knew that too. He was the only one that knew that.

One day, in the suffocating stillness of the hospital ward, you finally ask him the question that’s been gnawing at the edges of your mind. The pale light filtering through the blinds casts long shadows on the sterile white walls.

And the quiet hum of distant monitors feels unbearably loud. You shift uncomfortably in your bed, clutching the thin blanket as if it could anchor you to something solid.

“Why are you here?” The words escape your lips before you can stop them. Your voice is quiet, hesitant, but the question feels monumental, breaking the fragile peace between you.

Megumi doesn’t look surprised. He’s seated in the chair by your bed, one leg crossed over the other, his posture as calm as always. His gaze lifts from the book he’s been reading, something he always seems to have in his hands.

Though you’ve never seen him get past the halfway mark. He seems to be carrying it as though it was a prayer book he was forced to hold at a sermon at church.

“To watch you.” he says simply, his tone neutral. There’s no elaboration, no attempt to soften the starkness of his answer. As though it was almost like his words were that of fact. You furrow your brow, confused.

“I know that….But why? Why do you keep on watching me this closely?” you press, the weight of his presence suddenly more tangible. He isn’t like the nurses or the doctors who flit in and out of the room. He doesn’t belong here—not in the way they do.

“Are you uncomfortable about it?” 

You blinked at him, your mouth agape for a moment. “N–no.”

“Okay, then. I’ll continue on doing what I want.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. You like to think that it was all you were going to get from him. So you just sighed, leaning against your hospital bed and closing your eyes. This was the most he’d ever talk to you, and perhaps the longest. That could be a win, right?

“For you.” He spoke again, as though he couldn’t handle the silence between you. 

“For me?” you echo, your voice almost a whisper. The words feel foreign, as though they belong to someone else. “What does that mean?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering your question. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—an emotion you can’t name. Not pity, not detachment, but something softer. “Does my reason matter?”

“You have me curious now.” You whisper to him, letting out a small laugh. “What was your reason?” you ask him again.

Though deep down, you think you already know. The thought lodges itself in your chest, sharp and unwelcome. Megumi doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. His gaze holds yours for some time, steady and unwavering. 

“I made a promise I’d like to keep.” he says finally, the words carrying a gravity that makes your breath hitch.

“What promise?”

His eyes narrowed at you, almost as though it was full of hurt. “You don’t want to know.”

The suffocating stillness of the room presses down on you, but somehow, his presence feels like a small crack of light breaking through the weight of it all. You want to ask more—how he knows, why he cares, but the words catch in your throat, tangled in the storm of your thoughts.

It’s such a brief answer, yet it lingers with you long after the words fade. There’s no pity in his voice, no judgment, just a quiet truth that settles like a blanket over your weary mind. And in some inexplicable way, that’s enough.

So, instead you nod, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. It’s not acceptance, not yet, but maybe it’s the beginning of it. And Megumi, patient as ever, doesn’t push for more. He simply stays, his quiet presence a reminder that, whatever happens, you won’t face it alone.

Over time, Megumi’s presence becomes less foreboding and more… comforting. If someone told you a grim reaper could be anything close to a friend, you would’ve laughed. But now? You’re not so sure.

He still doesn’t talk much, but the moments he does are starting to feel less like obligations and more like. Well, like he cares. His dry humor catches you off guard sometimes, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips when you grumble about hospital food or tell him a ridiculous story from your childhood that you’re shocked you even remember.

“They let you keep a pet fish in third grade?” he asks one day, his eyebrow quirking ever so slightly.

“Let me? No, I smuggled it back to the orphanage.” you reply, puffing your chest out like it’s something to be proud of. “Named him Mr. Bubbles. He lived in a mason jar by our shared windowsill until one of the staff found him.”

Megumi gives you a sidelong glance, and for a second, you think he’s about to scold you. But instead, his lips quirk into the tiniest smile. “Mr. Bubbles, huh.” he repeats, almost to himself, and the sound of it in his voice makes your chest feel light.

He’s always a comfort in the painful days of longevity treatments. You were getting even worse, not even the precious medication was working. Megumi was the one to urge you to continue, even if they were never going to do anything for you.

After all, he was here for a reason. Nothing was going to help. And yet, he still insists that having more time is better than having little.

This time, you like to think you could agree with him. With more time, you could continue to have Megumi by your side. You could continue to have conversations with him.

You could continue to see his small ghostly smiles and find him sitting there beside you, looking through pages of that book he never reads. You could have more time living, experiencing some good in your life – a good that was waiting on death’s door. 

Sitting in the chair beside you, his legs crossed casually, as though he’s simply there for the ambiance and not because you’re hooked up to an IV that feels like it’s siphoning the life out of you. Sometimes, you fall asleep mid-session, and when you wake up, you find him sitting exactly as he was, as if not a single moment has passed for him.

“I wasn’t sleeping at all.” you insist groggily one day, blinking the drowsiness away. “How could you even know I was sleeping at all? I know, it’s my body!”

“You were drooling.” he counters flatly, gesturing toward your chin. “Look, it’s still there in the corner of your lips.”

You hurriedly swipe at your face, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I was not!”

His expression doesn’t change, but you swear there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He could be a trickster when he wants to be. He could be silly from time to time. And funny enough with that dry humor that you could cry tears as you laugh so hard at what he says.

Despite his initial stoicism, Megumi starts picking up on your quirks, learning the things that make you smile. And most days now, especially now with these horrible and miserable treatments, you looked forward to them. 

Like the time he noticed you doodling on the edge of your treatment log and, the next day, casually handed you a pack of gel pens. Your face conforms to a confused daze as you look at him and then at the gel pens in your hand. There were so many that you don’t even think you could count them.

“How the hell did you get this, Megumi?” You asked him, your eyes narrowing at him. “Why are there so many?”

“They were free.” he said, refusing to meet your eyes as you stared at the colorful bundle in awe.

“From where?” you asked, skeptical at his response to you.

“Places.” He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Megumi.” you drawled, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Do you want the pens or not?” he huffed, crossing his arms in a way that made him look surprisingly boyish. “They’re really good too. I tried them downstairs. And they’re free. What? Is the security going to look at your bag when you leave? This isn’t a mall, you know.”

You looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded at his sudden ridiculous tirade. Then slowly, your tummy rumbled as you laughed and laughed. The notion of it all was silly. Still, you were entertained by it. Megumi seemed glad that you laughed. And that you went along with all of it. 

You took the pens, of course. You put them in your bag after he handed it to you. No one checked it and for the rest of the day, you tried them and made little doodles with them on your notepad at home. And that day, for the first time in a long time, you felt genuinely happy.

As much as Megumi claims he’s only there to “watch” you as part of his job, you found that it’s obvious he’s doing more than that. He’s doing the most out of all grim reapers you like to think.

Of course, you don’t know any other grim reapers. And you doubt you’d look sane if you tried to bring it up to another dying person. But your grim reaper, at least you, was the kindest. 

As you settle into bed, the hospital room bathed in the faint glow of a bedside lamp, you glance over at Megumi. He’s sitting in his usual chair, arms folded loosely, his expression calm but watchful.

It’s become routine now. His quiet presence is a constant that you’ve come to rely on, though you’d never admit it outright.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. 

Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor.

You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or perhaps a glimmer of gratitude he’d never put into words. His lips purse into a flat line, as he looks at you. You could tell that there’s something in his green–blue orbs that you couldn’t read. But you knew better than to ask.

“Thank you, Megumi.” you say after a moment, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“For what?” he asks, his gaze steady on you.

“For being the first good thing in my life.” you say simply, your chest tightening as you force the words out. 

It feels strange to say, especially to someone like him. You know you shouldn’t be thanking the person meant to take your soul, the one who will guide you into the unknown. But it feels right. You swallow hard, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. 

“I know it sounds ridiculous. Thanking a grim reaper. But I mean it. You were... the kindest thing in my destiny. And I think that’s enough to be happy about.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything right away. He doesn’t need to. The faintest nod of his head, the subtle softening of his usually stoic expression, is answer enough. The weight in your chest eases as you let your head sink into the pillow. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you fight to keep them open just a little longer. 

“Goodnight, Megumi.” you murmur, your voice trailing off as sleep begins to take hold.

“Good night.” he says softly, his voice carrying a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

As your breathing slows, becoming steady and rhythmic, Megumi stays where he is, his gaze fixed on you. And he knows. He just knows—it’s time. Your time. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and bittersweet, but he doesn’t flinch.

This was always the inevitability, but watching you now, peaceful and free from the fear that had once gripped you, he feels something akin to relief. Perhaps even a quiet sadness.

When the time comes, Megumi will be there, as he always has been. For now, though, he lets you rest, a faint sense of solace settling over the room.

══════════════════

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, THIS MISSION WASN’T EVEN FOR HIM TO TAKE. Megumi didn’t choose this assignment at random. No, not at all. That morning began like any other in the sterile monotony of his existence. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a pale glow on the rows of cubicles where reapers sat, reviewing their tasks for the day. 

He’d been staring at the dregs of his coffee, debating whether he had the energy to bother getting a fresh cup, when the assignments for the day appeared on the board—a mosaic of names, dates, faces.

He’d glanced up, disinterested at first. It was just another day in an endless cycle of endings. Souls came and went, and reapers like him did their jobs, guiding them to whatever came next. There was no time for attachment, no reason to linger on a single name or face.

But then he saw yours.

And everything stopped.

His coffee cup slipped from his fingers, shattering against the floor in a muted crash. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He blinked once, twice, as if his eyes might be playing tricks on him. But no matter how many times he looked, it was unmistakable.

It was you.

Your face stared back at him from the board, frozen in a candid snapshot. It was a face he knew better than his own, even after all this time. A face he’d never forgotten, not even through lifetimes of distance.

It had been so long since he’d last seen you. Lifetimes ago, you had been more than just a part of his world—you had been his world. The memories were fractured and blurred at the edges, but they still burned vividly enough to hurt.

He remembered your laugh, bright and unrestrained, echoing through a life that had otherwise been far too short. He remembered the way you had looked at him, your gaze full of trust, full of hope.

He remembered losing you.

And now here you are again, pulled into this cycle of life and death that neither of you could escape. But this time, you were already dying. You were going to go and suffer again, and there would be no one to save you. He couldn’t stop it last time. And now, he cannot stop it this time. It was set in stone already.

And yet, his heart breaks over and over again. You were barely more than a child, younger than either of you had been in your shared past life. You hadn’t even been given a chance to live, and yet the world had decided it was already time to take you away.

Megumi’s heart ached in a way he hadn’t thought possible anymore. He was a reaper. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. But as he stared at your photo, the weight of it all crushed him.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you’d been taken from him once, and now it was happening all over again. This time, there would be no miracles, no last-minute reprieves. He knew that. He’d seen it a thousand times in other lives.

But he couldn’t just let you go alone.

Without thinking, he rose from his chair, his movements mechanical as he walked toward the board. Each step felt heavier than the last, his resolve hardening with every breath. When he reached your name, he stared at it for a long moment before finally speaking.

“I’ll take this one.” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The room went silent. Assignments weren’t supposed to be chosen; they were distributed at random to avoid any emotional entanglements. Reapers were meant to be impartial. But no one questioned him. Megumi rarely spoke, rarely asked for anything. If he wanted this assignment, there had to be a reason.

As he returned to his desk, your face still fresh in his mind, he made himself a quiet promise. He couldn’t save you. The rules were clear. Your fate was already written, and nothing he did could change that.

But he could be there. He could make sure you didn’t have to face the end alone, that you wouldn’t have to feel the crushing loneliness he’d once felt when he lost you before.

Even if you didn’t remember him. Even if you didn’t know that in another life, you had been his entire world. He would carry that pain for both of you. Because this wasn’t just another assignment. It was you. And losing you again, even knowing it was inevitable, would be the cruelest fate of all.

When Megumi first appeared to you, he knew he had to keep his emotions in check. His job wasn’t to interfere, and no matter how much it hurt to see you again, he couldn’t let the truth slip. You didn’t know who he was, didn’t recognize the connection you’d once shared.

And why would you? To you, he was just a stranger. A quiet, brooding figure who had been assigned to shadow your dying days.

At first, he told himself that keeping his distance would make it easier. That if he stayed aloof, if he acted like this was just another assignment, maybe the ache in his chest wouldn’t consume him. But the moment he saw how lonely you were, trapped in a hospital bed, tethered to machines, fading faster than anyone your age should—he couldn’t help himself.

It was the little things at first. Reminding you of a nurse’s name when your memory failed. Offering a quiet presence during your treatments. Bringing you that pack of gel pens when he noticed your fingers twitching over the edges of your journal, longing to create something amidst the monotony of hospital life.

But as the days turned into weeks, Megumi found himself doing more than he should.

He started sitting closer to you, his usual stoic demeanor softening with every conversation. He started bringing you small comforts—a cup of coffee he swore he “found” a scarf on the day the hospital felt too cold, a faint smile when you told him a joke, no matter how bad it was.

“Why do you even hang around?” you asked one afternoon, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and weariness. 

You’d just finished another grueling medicinal session, your body too weak to sit up straight. He didn’t answer right away. For a moment, his gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in his dark blue–green eyes. Then, he shrugged.

“You’re interesting to me.” he said simply, but his voice betrayed the truth he couldn’t say.

You laughed weakly. “Interesting? I’m a walking tragedy.”

“No, never say that. Not ever again.” he said firmly, his tone surprising you. “You’re more than that. You are more than your tragedy.”

The words hung in the air, and you didn’t press further. But in that moment, something shifted between you. As time went on, you began to look forward to his visits. He wasn’t just a reaper to you anymore; he was someone who made the unbearable a little more bearable. 

Someone who listened when you needed to vent, who stayed when the nights felt too long, who reminded you that even in the shadow of death, you weren’t invisible. And Megumi… Megumi was breaking all his own rules. Rules he had set long after you, long before you again.

Every time he saw you laugh, even if it was just a fleeting chuckle, a part of him swore he’d do anything to keep that spark alive. But every time he saw you struggle; when your hands trembled too much to hold a pen, when your memories slipped further and further away—his heart ached in ways it hadn’t in centuries.

He hated this. Hated that you had to go through this. Hated that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change your fate. But he stayed by your side through it all. He lets himself relive it all over again, no matter the pain. No matter what comes. Because it’s you. Come what may, it’s you.

“You know, Megumi.” you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the hum of the machines. “You’re not so bad to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips. “Not so bad?”

You smiled, your eyes heavy with exhaustion but still warm. “Yeah. You’re like... a friend. A precious friend.”

A friend. The word stabbed at him more than it should have. Because that’s all he could ever be to you in this life. A friend. A shadow. A quiet presence watching over you as you slowly slipped away.

“You think so, huh?” He asks you, as you nodded and smiled. Silence engulfs the room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been someone’s precious friend before.”

“Then we are the same. Well, almost.” 

He blinks at your words. “What do you mean?”

“If you call me your precious friend too, then we’ll finally have it. Being a precious person, at least once.”

You’ve always been a precious person to me. Megumi thinks to himself. In every lifetime, in every you — you have always been my precious person.

And even though he would never tell you the truth, that you’d been so much more to him in another life, that losing you once had broken him and losing you again was killing him all over again, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. 

Because this was his last chance to be with you, even if you didn’t remember him. Even if it would never be enough. Nothing with you would ever be enough, not even if you lived a thousand years. 

But, every moment is worth it, no matter how short it would be. When you love someone that much, it has to be enough. It has to be more than enough. He has to live through this immortal and wretched life, making those moments feel like they were as eternal as him. Even if he wanted more.

“Alright.” Megumi says to you as you perk up, your eyes shining. “You are a precious person to me.”

You giggled at his words. “Was it so hard to say? I am grateful that you said it at all.”

It was never hard to say. It never had been.

But now he has to live that memory over and over again.

He lets his lips echo a small warm smile as he looks at you.

“No, no it wasn’t hard at all.”

══════════════════

THE TREATMENTS HAVE STOPPED FULLY. And because of that your condition was getting worse and worse. The moments of clarity you once had were growing fewer and farther between. The pain in your body became an unwelcome constant, a weight that pulled you down even when you tried to fight against it. 

Every movement felt like dragging yourself through glass, and the fog in your mind thickened, stealing memories and thoughts before you could fully grasp them. Everything about it felt so fragile, and you were afraid of breaking it. Even if it was already broken, you were scared at seeing it break even more. You were scared and he couldn’t do much about it.

Megumi hated seeing you like this. He watched as you lay curled in your bed, tears streaming silently down your face, your breathing shaky and uneven. He hated the way your hands trembled as you gripped the blanket.

It was as if holding onto it might keep you tethered to something real. Something solid enough to bring you back to earth, to existence. To humanity. Hated the way your voice cracked when you spoke, each word laced with frustration and grief over what was slipping away from you.

“I hate this, I hate this.” you whispered one night, your voice barely audible. Your chest hitched with a quiet sob as you turned your face into the pillow, trying to muffle your cries. “I hate... not being able to think. To remember. I feel like I’m disappearing, and I can’t stop it.”

Megumi clenched his fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but the words felt like ash in his throat. What could he say? That it would be okay? That you’d find peace? That this agony would end? None of it felt true, and none of it would matter to you at this moment.

You didn’t want peace. You wanted your life back.When you looked up at him, your eyes red  and swollen, the sight nearly broke him. You looked so weak, one couldn’t even think you were someone with such strength at one point. He hated this. He hated how miserable you’ve been, how pained you’ve been.

“I’m so tired, Megumi.” you admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Megumi moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, as if he were afraid his presence might shatter you further. He sat at the edge of your bed, his usually impassive face shadowed with something raw and unguarded.

“You’re still you, you always will be.” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You let out a bitter laugh, though it came out more like a choked sob. “How do you know that? You don’t even really know me.”

He froze for a moment, his gaze dropping to his hands. He wanted to tell you that he did know you, better than anyone ever could. That he remembered you in ways you couldn’t even begin to imagine. But he couldn’t. Not now.

Instead, he reached out, his hand hovering over yours for a moment before he let it settle gently against your trembling fingers. The touch was warm, grounding, and for a moment, the chaos inside you stilled.

“I know because I saw it. I’ve seen it all, even for a while.” he said finally. “Even when you’re hurting, even when it feels like everything is falling apart, I see you.”

His words hung in the air, fragile but steady, and something in your expression slowly softened. You leaned closer to him and he didn’t mind it at all. He pulled you even closer, letting that warmth of him become even more felt.

“It’s okay to be angry about all of this.” he continued, his voice steady now. “It’s okay to cry. You’ve been fighting so hard, for so long. You don’t have to hold it all in.”

Your tears flowed freely then, and Megumi stayed right where he was, his hand never leaving yours. He didn’t try to stop your sobs or hush your pain. He simply stayed, letting you pour out everything you’d been holding back. And for the first time in centuries, in his entire lifetime — Megumi couldn’t help but feel unequivocally  helpless.

He was a reaper, meant to guide and observe, but watching you crumble under the weight of your illness was unbearable. You didn’t deserve all of this. You shouldn’t suffer like this. You had done nothing wrong, not in your previous life and not this one. But this was still your fate. 

And he hated the unfairness of it all, the cruelty of a life that had given you so little only to take it away too soon. If he could have taken your place, he would have done it without hesitation.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t trade a life for a life. The gods do not have mercy in that regard. Fate was fate. He cannot do much about it. And he hates it. He hates seeing you like this. 

All he could do was stay by your side, no matter how much it hurt to watch. Because you deserved that much. You deserve someone who wouldn’t leave, even in your darkest moments. And Megumi would be damned if he let you face this alone.

As the night deepened, the room fell into a heavy, fragile silence. The only sounds were the steady hum of the machines and your quiet, uneven breaths as you lay spent from crying. Megumi hadn’t moved from his spot, his hand still lightly covering yours.

Your fingers twitched against his, seeking more warmth. The motion was subtle, but he noticed. Carefully, he threaded his fingers between yours, his grip firm but not overbearing. You didn’t pull away. Instead, your grip tightened just a little, like you were holding on to him for dear life.

“Why do you stay?” you asked, your voice hoarse from the tears but tinged with something vulnerable. You didn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the faint outline of his hand entwined with yours.

Megumi hesitated. He wasn’t good at this—at talking about feelings. He was better at quiet gestures and staying in the background. But something about the way you asked, so small and uncertain, pulled the words out of him.

“Because you shouldn’t have to go through this alone, jot ever.” he said softly, his gaze fixed on you.

You blinked at his answer, a lump forming in your throat. “But you don’t even know me, not at all, Megumi.” you repeated, weaker this time, as if you wanted to believe him but couldn’t quite bring yourself to. “How could you stay for someone like me?”

Megumi’s jaw tightened. 

You didn’t know half of it.

“I know enough.” he said finally. “I know you’re stubborn and strong, even when you feel like you’re not. I know you don’t like hospital food, but you’ll eat it anyway because you don’t want to make the nurses worry. I know you still draw on the edges of your notebooks, even when your hands shake so much that the lines go crooked.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words and Megumi felt his heart clench at the way you were looking at him, like you were seeing him for the first time. And as though, it was the first time in a while you had known him that he truly saw you.

“I see you.” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every part of you, even the ones you think you’ve lost. They’re still there. You’re still here.”

You felt the tears welling up again, but this time, they weren’t from frustration or anger. They were something softer, quieter. You take a deep breath, to calm yourself for a moment.

And he brushes your hand against your own. He was so warm, even when your hands were cold. He warmed you enough back to life, even for just that moment. 

“You make it sound like I’m worth something.” you murmured, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips.

“You are. You always have been.” he said instantly, the conviction in his voice startling you. “More than you know. I promise you.”

Your chest ached, not from the illness this time, but from the overwhelming mixture of emotions his words stirred in you. It was almost too much, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to stop bringing you back to life. You didn’t want him to stop giving you reasons to want to live.

“Megumi.” you said quietly, finally looking up at him.

His name sounded different coming from you, like it carried more weight, more meaning than it ever had before. It was as warm as back then, when you would say his name and smile at him, like he was your world. Like he was someone you dearly loved.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer now, like he was afraid of breaking the moment.

You hesitated, your dulling eyes searching for something you couldn’t quite put into words. Then, with a shaky breath, you smiled—a real smile, small but genuine.“Thank you. For all you have done for me, for all you will ever do for me. Thank you.”

Megumi’s lips couldn’t help but twitch at your words, and for the first time, he allowed himself to give you a wide smile in return. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it was for you, only for you. And you knew that it was only for you.

“Don’t mention it.” he said, his usual stoicism creeping back into his tone, but there was an undeniable warmth beneath it.

That night, as you finally drifted off to sleep, your hand still holding his, Megumi stayed by your side. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, each breath a reminder that you were still here, still fighting. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Megumi let himself hope.

Not for a miracle, no. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe in those anymore—but for something smaller. He hoped that in the time you had left, he could make sure you knew you weren’t just a fleeting soul, a name on a list, a face on a board. 

You were everything to him, even if you never remembered why. And as he sat there, his hand still holding yours in the quiet of the night, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could carry that truth for both of you.

══════════════════

HE KNEW THAT HE CAN’T KEEP BUYING TIME. That’s not how it works in this line of work. The higher-ups had been patient with Megumi for as long as they could. They had watched from a distance as he ignored the rules, as he lingered at your side longer than necessary.

He had been told once, perhaps twice, that his attachment was blurring the lines of his duty. But no one had come forward to confront him, not until now.

The meeting room was cold, sterile—just like all the others. It was almost like the hospital. It even smells like it too. The flickering lights did nothing to soften the sharp voices of his superiors, their words cutting through him like a blade. Megumi has always hated this room. As much as you hate the hospitals. 

He has lived for a long time. He has been in the reaper department for so long, he doesn’t even remember when he had started. But no matter how many times he stays in it, the smell will always linger and he hates it. Just as much as he hates the higher-ups, perhaps. Yet, he knew he couldn’t admit it out loud.

“Megumi, this isn’t working any longer.” One of them had said it, their voice cutting through the stale air of the room like a blade, sharp with frustration.

The council sat in their cold, unfeeling silence, their dark robes blending into the shadows that clung to the room. The words echoed in Megumi’s ears, even as he sat still, his fists clenched tightly under the table.

“They are already dying,” the voice continued, each word hammering against him. “You know this, you always have. Fate cannot be changed. You cannot keep delaying it. You’re prolonging their suffering, and you know it. We cannot let this go on any longer.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His blue-green eyes stayed fixed on the floor, a storm brewing behind them. He didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself, because deep down, he knew they were right. He could feel it every time he saw you. 

In this way your body grew weaker with each passing day, as if life itself was slipping through your fingers. Each breath you took was a silent battle, and every glance you gave him carried an unspoken understanding that your time was coming.

But what they didn’t understand, what they couldn’t understand, was why he couldn’t just let go. Not yet. Not when your laughter still lingered in the corners of the hospital room.

Not when you still found the strength to smile at him, even through the haze of your pain. Not when you had thanked him—thanked him—for being the kindest thing in your life. How could he take that away from you? How could he take it away from himself?

“It’s not for your benefit that they should stay alive, you know that.” another elder said, their voice low but unyielding, like a hammer falling against stone. “Do it for their sake. The sooner you do it, the sooner they can find peace. You mustn’t prolong the suffering for your wants.”

The words cut deeper than Megumi would ever admit, a blow he wasn’t prepared for. His fists tightened until his nails bit into his palms, but he kept his gaze down, unwilling to let them see the flicker of defiance in his eyes. 

He wanted to scream at them, to tell them they didn’t understand, that it wasn’t about his wants, it never had been. It was about you. About giving you every last moment, every fleeting second that you deserved, no matter how much it hurt him to watch.

But none of that mattered to them. The rules were the rules. His mission was clear: guide souls to the other side, no matter the cost, no matter the pain. He was meant to be impartial, detached, but he wasn’t. Not this time.

As the meeting adjourned, their final words hung in the air like a noose tightening around his neck. “You have to let them go, Megumi.” the elder had said, their tone devoid of sympathy. “It’s not about you. It’s about them. Do what must be done.”

When the room emptied, Megumi remained seated, his shoulders heavy with the weight of their judgment. He wanted to argue, to push back against the inevitability they demanded he enforce. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t delay forever. 

He could feel the edges of your life fraying, could see the way the light in your eyes flickered, like a candle in its final moments. And yet, even as he sat there, alone in the suffocating silence, he made a decision.

Not yet.

Because you deserve those moments, however brief they might be. You deserved the warmth of the sun on your skin, the chance to smile one more time, the chance to feel something other than pain before the end. And if he could give you that, even at the cost of his own heart, he would.

But he also knew the truth, the one he couldn’t ignore forever. Time wasn’t on your side. And when the moment came, when the inevitability could no longer be postponed, Megumi would have to let you go.

Just not today.

Not yet.

He needs more time.

When the meeting ended, Megumi didn’t move. He couldn’t. His mind was too heavy with the weight of their demands, and yet his heart felt too torn to process it. He takes a moment to compose himself before he walks out. 

As he walked out into the hallway, he wasn’t surprised to find Gojo Satoru waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall with that ever-present, cocky grin on his face. The two of them had known each other for lifetimes, especially with how Gojo was now his boss. 

Though Gojo was the opposite of Megumi in nearly every way. Where Megumi was reserved and quiet, Gojo was loud and unapologetic. He hated the elders too, he hated the rules as much as Megumi too. 

But he had never let himself be swallowed by what he feels personally as he works. And Gojo Satoru knew that too well, when he saw that look in Megumi’s face. He had not taught him well enough to separate it all. 

“Megumi, hey.” Gojo said, his voice a little more serious than usual. “Can we talk?”

Without waiting for an answer, Gojo pushed himself off the wall and fell into step beside Megumi, leading him down a quieter hall away from the bustling administrative wing. He already knew what he was going to say.

But Megumi wishes he wouldn’t say it. Because when Gojo says it, it becomes even more real. It becomes even more true. And it’s something he can’t handle. Not right now.

“I know what you’re thinking, okay?” Gojo began, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “And I know it’s hard.”

He’s saying it. He’s talking about it. There was nothing that would stop it from being real. Not anymore. Megumi didn’t answer, he didn’t want to. He didn’t need to.

Gojo  Satoru could always read him, could always sense what was going on under the surface, even when Megumi tried to hide it. He was always going to tell Megumi the truth, even when it was hard.

“I don’t get it, Gojo–san.” Megumi said, his voice low, rough from the strain of keeping it all in. “I know the rules. I know they have to go. But… but I can’t just let them die like this. Not again. Not this miserably.” 

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to face Gojo, his face a mix of frustration and sorrow. “They’re suffering so much and miserable to boot, and I’m supposed to just… let them go? How is that even fair?”

Gojo’s expression softened, the usual smugness gone, replaced by something much more genuine. He took a step closer, his hands in his pockets as he regarded Megumi with quiet understanding. He takes a deep sigh.

“I know it’s not easy, kid.” Gojo said, his voice lower now, almost tender. “But this isn’t about what you want. You’re not their savior, Megumi. You’re their guide. You can’t heal them, that’s not part of the job description. It never was. You can’t protect them from everything.”

The words stung, sharper than Megumi expected. 

But it was the truth, the unavoidable truth.

This was a job, even if it meant the world to him.

It cannot be more than a job, not even like this.

“I know you care about them. Hell, you’re probably more attached than anyone in this damn place,” Gojo continued, the hint of a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But your job is to make them transition to something peaceful. To comfort them. Not to prolong their suffering because you’re too scared to let them go.”

Megumi looked away, his blue–green eyes burning with the weight of his own guilt. He could feel them water ever so slowly as he thinks about you, about everything you suffered — in all your lives. And now, when you suffered the most. He bit his lower lip. How could he just let it all go?

“I can’t just stand by and watch them die, Gojo–san.” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly, betraying the deep ache inside him. “Not like this. Not when I… when I care about them this much. Not when….Not when I love them so much.”

Gojo Satoru’s gaze softened further, taking a moment to sigh at him. He’d known Megumi for so long. He’s a good kid, he’s always been the best of everyone here, if he was being honest. But even now, he was still so human. And perhaps that is his weakness. He cannot be a reaper, and be human too. He cannot have both.

“I know, kid. I know.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But this is the hardest part. You have to be strong for them now. It’s time. And you have to do your job. You have to help them let go. That’s the only way they’ll be able to be free from the pain, okay? If you do your job. They’ll be free. And it can be, if anything, the greatest act of love.”

Megumi wanted to argue, wanted to lash out and scream that it wasn’t fair, that this wasn’t right. But something in Gojo’s cerulean eyes made him stop. Gojo Satoru wasn’t just talking about the rules; he was talking about them. About the person Megumi had come to love more than anything in this world, someone who was ever so dear to him in each and every lifetime. 

He was right. He can’t do anything about death or about fate. And he was right — death was the greatest mercy, instead of suffering. This could be the greatest act of love, as it had always been in each lifetime. To be there for you, to hold your hand and whisper all the love he has in your ear as you go. To set you free.

The truth was hard to swallow, but the reality was clearer than ever. Your suffering wasn’t going to end unless he let you go. And if he truly cared about you, he would have to find the strength to be the one to guide you to peace. With a deep breath, Megumi nodded, the weight of his decision settling in.

“I’ll do it, Gojo–san.” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’ll make sure they’re at peace.”

Gojo gave him a small, approving nod. “You’re doing the right thing.”

Megumi knew it would be one of the hardest things he’d ever do. But as he turned back down to earth, to the hall toward where you were waiting, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come, he also knew it was the only way to truly set you free. 

He just hoped that, somehow, you would understand. And that you would forgive him. That you would smile warmly back at him once again, when you meet him again in your next life. That you could love him again, if you can.

══════════════════

HE BRACED HIMSELF FOR WHAT COMES NEXT. Megumi stood outside your hospital room, his heart heavy in his chest. The hallway was unnervingly quiet, the soft beep of monitors and the occasional shuffle of nurses’ footsteps the only sounds that kept him tethered to reality. 

He had never been so sure of something—so certain that this moment had arrived. It was time. He swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat, before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Having done it once didn’t make it any easier. If anything, it made it harder. He’d have to relive this moment over and over again, like all the other times.

But he had no other choice. If you were to die, he’d rather it be him holding you. He would rather it be him you hurt, leave a scar only he could see. Megumi would rather that he would be the one to comfort you one last time, to tell you that he’s got you. That everything will be alright. Because you were together. Because he was the one taking you away.

You were there, propped up against the pillows, looking so small under the white sheets. Your face was pale, your features drawn and tired, but when you saw him, your expression softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"You're here again, hm?" you said, your voice hoarse but warm.

Megumi stood frozen for a moment, the sight of you sending a wave of emotions crashing over him. You looked so fragile, so close to the edge, and yet here you were, smiling at him like nothing was wrong. Like you hadn’t been battling this slow, painful decline for so long.

He forced his lips into a small, bittersweet smile. "Of course I’m here."

You sat up a little straighter in your bed, your eyes trying to focus on him. There was a faint sense of confusion in them, as if the fog in your mind was thicker than usual today. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you sought his, and Megumi moved closer, carefully taking your hand in his.

"I didn’t know if you'd come today, you know." you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. “For the last time.”

Megumi felt the weight of your words press against his chest. You couldn’t remember everything, not anymore, but you remembered him. And somehow, that was a mercy. A small one, but a mercy nonetheless. He hated it, but it was all he had. It was all there was left.

"I’m always here when you need me, always." he said quietly, his voice unsteady despite the calm he tried to project. "You know that, right?"

You nodded slowly, as though trying to make sense of everything that was slipping through your fingers. The memory of his voice, the sensation of his presence, the feel of his hand in yours—it was enough to pull you back from the brink.

"I... I don’t remember... a lot." you confessed, your voice faltering, as though you were apologizing for something you couldn’t control. "But... I remember you."

Megumi’s heart squeezed at that, and he fought the urge to crumble. Don’t show weakness now, he told himself. Not with them. Not when they need you the most. Don’t falter. Love them, love them even if it hurts. 

“I’ll always be here.” he repeated softly, gently squeezing your hand. “You’ve always been important to me. You always will be.”

You tried to smile again, though it was faint, and the effort seemed to take everything out of you. "I wish I could remember everything... all the good stuff we did together. There was a lot, wasn’t it? Even before…..I���m sorry if I don’t remember it all. But I can remember you right now, Megumi. I hope that’s enough. I hope…I hope that’s alright."

He felt his eyes sting, but he held it back, keeping his gaze steady on yours. "That’s enough. That’s more than enough."

Your grip tightened a little on his hand, your eyes slowly drifting over his face, as if committing his features to memory, trying to remember every detail of him before the fog came back.

 "It’s always so funny to me." you whispered, a soft laugh escaping your lips despite the heaviness in the air. "You don’t look like a grim reaper."

Megumi chuckled quietly, the sound devoid of any real humor. "I get that a lot."

The silence stretched between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt almost peaceful, like the calm before the storm. You leaned back against the pillows, but you didn’t let go of his hand.There were so many things he wanted to say to you. 

So many words that were caught in his throat, threatening to spill over. But now—now there was no time for them. No time for the confessions, for the truth he’d never dared to speak. He simply stayed there, sitting at your side, holding your hand, because that was all he could do.

When you spoke again, it was quieter, slower. "I don’t want to forget you, not ever, not now." you said, your voice so fragile, so raw. "But I know I will. I already am."

Megumi shook his head, his thumb brushing lightly across the back of your hand, as though to comfort you, even though the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come. He couldn't promise you anything, couldn't tell you that this would all be okay, because it wouldn’t be.

“I’ll never forget you.” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll remember for the both of us. Even when you aren’t here anymore.”

“Then….will you let me fall in love with you again, if I were to be reborn?” You asked him, tears in your eyes pouring down your cheeks. “Will you let me, Megumi?”

His breath hitches shakily. His lips wobbled into a small watery smile. “Of course, I will. You can love me as many times as you want. I’ll let you do it. Over and over again.”

You choked into a giggle. “Then….Then, I’m glad. I’m forgetful, after all. It’s good, you’ll remind me next time.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. Even at the end, you were taking care of him. You were making sure he wasn’t sad. You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a brief moment, the confusion in your eyes faded. 

The fog cleared, just a little, and you smiled. It was a small, soft smile, but it was there, and it was for him. All for him. As it always has been. You take a moment, a breath. He waits patiently for what you want to say.

“I wish…..” you whispered, your voice trailing off as your eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion finally taking over.

Megumi’s chest tightened as he waited.  

But the words never came out of your lips. 

As you slipped into a quiet sleep, your breath steady and calm, Megumi stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours. He knew it wasn’t enough to stop what was coming. But for now, he will hold on. He will cherish the warmth that remains. 

It was the last time. The last time he would see you, the last time he would hear your voice, the last time he would get to make you feel comforted before you let go. And somehow, it was enough. Because you remembered him. And that was all that mattered now.

“I love you.” He whispers to you as he closes his eyes, letting the tears flow. “Goodbye.”

[apocllipse]

PAIRING: mage!gojo x reader

author note: i can add so much more to this. also, not proof read (yet)

mage!gojo is an illegitimate child of the emperor but no one is aware of who his father is. the emperor never pays his mother and him any attention, they are abandoned to look after themselves.

mage!gojo who is left no other choice but to overwork himself day and night to fend for himself and his mother. he strives for achieving more than something ordinary because that is what will move the high society into making a space for him and his mother, whom they ridiculed day and night ever since his birth.

mage!gojo who turns out to be one of the most phenomenal mages in the history of the empire. he is able to control not one but two natural attributes, water and air.

mage!gojo who only started getting noticed by the emperor only after his spectacular achievements as a mage.

mage!gojo is disgusted not only by his father but also all the aristocratic families and everyone in high society who made his life along with his mother's a living nightmare. they only seek his favour after he received the title of the one managing the mage tower at such a young age.

mage!gojo who becomes the most sought out person overnight, one after another noble lady lining up to seek him out but he is anything but naive. he notices how none of them are truly interested in him but it's either his looks or his title that they suddenly find captivating enough to spike their interest in him.

mage!gojo spends most of his time locked in the mage tower doing research or teaching his apprentice. he would rather overwork himself than step out in the high society and play friends with those two faced nobles.

mage!gojo who decides to take in a few more apprentices to occupy his time as much as possible but he doubts many would join him given his reputation of being tiresome to work with.

mage!gojo who looks at you as if you have grown a third head once you personally approach him and abruptly ask to join him as soon as possible, even if it's starting from right at this moment. “is that really okay?” gojo asks, a little uncertainty still swimming in his eyes but you have never been more sure of something in your life so you stand firm to your words. gojo adjusts his glasses a little and taps the corner of his mouth with a finger, his other hand gripping the books in it a little more tightly, he looks deep in his thoughts as he stares at you as if he is contemplating whether to let you in or not. your shoulder slumps a little expecting him to flat out refuse you at any moment, “you are more than welcome,” your head snaps up and your eyes meeting his surprised, “i hope you stay as adamant” he adds with a cheeky smile that melts your heart like all those years ago and you can't help the one that forms on your face right after him. he turns on his heels and you follow right after him, wishing to be able to do this for a long, long time.

mage!gojo isn't someone warm. he is open to conversation, he looks easy to approach and he is often shooting a smile even in the smallest of conversation but you notice how he prefers to be alone, how his brows frown a little when he sees someone approach him before he immediately flashes a smile that never seems to reach his eyes.

mage!gojo flatly refuses any confession of love or any proposal that comes his way. even if it's in a kind manner, it's hard not to notice the hard look in his eyes that is very interestingly in contrast to how gently he lets his words flow. how can one seem so considerate and hostile at the same time?

mage!gojo is someone you have looked up to since studying beside him in the academia of mages, always seeing him come at the top of your classes. his abilities were never once doubted by the people around him though that can't be said about his character as an illegitimate child of a well known daughter of a marquees.

mage! gojo was quick to catch your eyes, not only his abilities but you were sure no one in the entire empire-no the entire world has such a marvelous face. those silky snowy locks of his hair always stood out to your eyes as he stood tall amongst your other classmates. it was hard not to let your heart flutter at every flutter of his own feathery eyelashes that covered the most beautiful pair of crystal blue eyes. besides his looks and abilities, his demeanor, which people ridiculed, never seemed to put you off either. you had helped him carry books from time to time around the academy, you helped him look for books in the library and during the breaks from classes you had sit not too far from him to steal glances every few mins. the sight of him alone in a corner, always reading to himself, sent pangs to your chest but you were hesitant to approach him for something more.

mage!gojo of today is different. at times he is almost unrecognisable to you. soon after you joined him as his apprentice, he started approaching you himself. it started in the first week of your work with him, “let me help you with those” gojo pointed to the pile of books in your hands as you were about to make your way up to the lab where you expected to see him but here he was. you held the books a little tighter, “it's fine! this is nothing, i will be right after you” you tried to assure him with a smile. gojo stepped forward and silently took the books from your hands, his fingers grazed yours lightly. you look at him and your mouth falls open as you notice the tips of his ears blooming a sweet shade of red, “it would be rude of me to let you” he says quickly and immediately turns on his heels to walk ahead of you but you don't miss the fumble of his hands that held the books and the way he tripped in his steps a little when you both turned a corner, his ears turning a deeper shade and he clears his throat as if to clear the cloud of embarrassment above him, “next time, please call for me” he said it more like a request, wishing to be of helpful to you. though you weren't so sure who needs the help here when he is the one looking more helpless than ever, making you chuckle.

mage!gojo is a changed person around you because there is no other explanation as to why he would use his precious time and mana into making a messenger that you can use to exchange letters with him, irrespective of the hours of the day. it's a small blue bird, he makes it extra shiny and look as sickly adorable as possible. it's even more unbelievable that he is doing this taking out hours from his sleep, into the dead of the night. so what if i have a few hours less of sleep? he thinks as he finishes his product, carefully placing it on his bedside table and climbing into his bed.

what he didn't expect was to stay up the rest of the night, staring at the small shining bird, overthinking whether it will be to your liking or not.

mage!gojo decides that displaying the practical aspects of his product to you is the best way to get you to like it. so the next day, while working with gojo's other apprentice, you see a blue bird flocking its way to you with a rolled piece of paper in its beak. it's blue and shines in a way that it reminds you of a certain someone, the bird lands on the table in front of you. along with you, gojo's only other apprentice besides you stares at the bird with wide eyes. you take the rolled piece of paper from its beak, “speak to it” was instructed at the piece of paper and looking at the neat handwriting, you know who exactly it was from but you are too scared to get your hopes up. you bend your face closer to the bird, “hello?” you greet in a small voice and the eyes of the bird flashes the slightest bit before you hear a voice from it, “do you like it?” it's really him, undoubtedly. you stare at the bird shocked, it's not like there is anything you don't know which magic is capable of but seeing how gojo used both of his elements to create something like this is still amazing. he is truly amazing. you think to yourself and your thoughts are interrupted with his sullen voice, “if it's too extravagant or too little, i can try again. i just sent it to check if it's working in terms of practical use” you can almost see him pouting on the other side so you are quick to reassure him, “i like it so much i can't believe my eyes. you are a really amazing mage” you finish with a small smile. how much more amazing could it be? not only can you exchange letters as the bird can hold it but you can also talk to each other using it? you flinch as the guy beside you gasps and it's too late to realise you weren't alone here. you clear your throat and send him a glare to keep him quiet, “since it's done, what are you going to do with it now?” you ask curiously, “keep it. it's yours.” gojo says immediately as if he had been waiting to hear from you on the other side.

“sure, i would love to” you replied bashfully before taking the bird in your arms before walking out of the lab. as soon as it was night, you rolled the piece of paper that you spent an embarrassingly long amount of time writing, after you had rushed out of the lab this afternoon.

“the water element makes this bird look so beautiful, the blue is so pleasant to my eyes it's hard for me to look away. reminds me of your eyes. thank you for this lovely gift”

you let the bird fly out from the window of your room, watching it fly away to wherever gojo might be right now. you feel the rush of blood throughout your whole body as you make your way to bury yourself in the covers on your bed.

mage!gojo totally didn't expect he would be spending more sleepless nights after he made you that messenger bird. not that he was complaining in the slightest. in fact, he awaits the night everyday now. as soon as he wakes up from his 2 hours of sleep, he wishes for it to be night again, when he is having lunch he wishes for it to be night again, when he is walking around the tower inspecting as his daily routine—he wishes for it to be night again. because once the dead of the night arrives, he finds himself in the comfort of his room, unwinding about his day to you through that precious messenger bird. something he never got to do before because no one in this world cared enough to listen. he makes jokes he never thought he would get to share with someone, he teases you and hears you make threats at him from the other side, he hears you laugh wholeheartedly which makes him do the same. things he never dared to dream of experiencing. he gets to do them all with you and he is more ambitious than ever before as he makes plans on how to make this thing between you last longer, perhaps forever if he has the power to.

mage!gojo is the lord of water and air but he can swear he feels nothing but fire burning his entire being from his desire of you as he gazes at you from not too far, as you once used to at him.

mage!gojo is the one and only, solely controlling two attributes of nature. perhaps that is why it's hard for you to miss the tsunami of his love for you in his ocean-like eyes. perhaps that is why he is able to knock the wind out of you and perhaps you still love him all the same from years ago that is why you are willing to let this storm consume you.

reblog to manifest gojo in maid dress in your dreams.

[maxdibert]

“Sirius killed people-“ so did Snape, supposedly loved Lily but betrayed her location to Voldemort because he was jealous of James actually winning her heart, not to mention convincing Harry the abuse was his fault, nearly giving Neville PTSD to the point where his boggart was Severus Snape himself, being a racist pos to anyone born of muggle parents, and becoming a high ranking member of the death eaters so what? He could protect Harry?

“It’s easier to cry in a Ferrari-“

it’s easier to defend a terrible character and play the racism and eat the rich card when you can’t understand context and inference clues that JK Rowling laid out.

What’s easy is inventing canon. What a load of made-up nonsense, mate.

1. Learn to read. I didn’t say Sirius killed anyone, but he did attempt murder. And he did it because he thought it was funny to torture Severus.

2. There’s no evidence that Severus killed anyone before Dumbledore asked him for euthanasia. This is made quite clear when Dumbledore talks about his concern for Draco’s soul, and Severus immediately questions him about his own soul. If Severus is so worried about it, it’s implied he hadn’t killed anyone before—or at least not in cold blood.

3. Have you even read the books? The only person who knew the Potters’ location was Peter. He’s the one who betrayed them.

4. There’s no evidence he was a racist. First off, equating racism with the concept of blood purity not only trivializes a serious social issue but also makes it clear that some of you have no idea what racism is or its history. The discriminatory dynamics and their foundations are completely different. But anyway, putting that aside, there’s no evidence whatsoever that Severus discriminated against Muggle-borns. The only time he makes a comment is during the incident with Lily—which, conveniently, happens when James and Sirius are sexually assaulting him, and Lily seems to smile at James. I don’t think you can judge someone’s ideology based on a comment made in an extremely tense moment. Canonically, Severus doesn’t treat Muggle-born students worse in class or make comments about their heritage. Nor does he badmouth Muggles. At most, he makes condescending remarks—which, let’s be real, all the characters do, even the “good ones,” because they’re ridiculously patronizing toward Muggles.

5. Severus was literally a double agent and reached the highest ranks of the Death Eaters to, yes, protect Harry. That’s literally why. He’s following Dumbledore’s orders. Like, have you read the books, or are you just pulling this stuff from fanfics? 99% of what you’ve said so far is pure fantasy, mate.

6. Yes, love, it’s actually pretty easy for me to defend people whose actions are a direct consequence of their life circumstances, and whose poor decisions were directly influenced by a lack of opportunities, security, and the violence of their environment. In fact, that’s literally my job. That’s what I do for a living.

Look, I don’t give a damn if you’re a Sirius fangirl. You can love a character while admitting he was a massive piece of crap. I love The Penguin, and there’s no way to justify him at all. Like, it’s fine, you know? You also have every right to feel sorry for him—I’m not going to judge you for that or anything. I’m not invalidating other people’s feelings if they think Sirius’s life was super tragic and feel a lot of compassion for him. Everyone has their own feelings and points of empathy. But that’s not the case for me. I don’t feel sorry for him. There’s no excuse for being an abusive bully with sociopathic tendencies toward someone who was canonically in a position of social and economic disadvantage. If Severus had come from a good family, with money and power—or if Sirius had been someone without a name, wealth, or status—then I’d view the situation differently because they would have been on equal footing. But just like the Black family chose Muggle-borns to torture because they knew they could, Sirius chose Severus because he knew he could. He’s a hypocrite and a piece of garbage. At least Bellatrix admitted her tendencies.

[adonneniel]

Ok, nevermind, I am going to try and put my complicated thoughts on paper.

So, about Dragon Age elves being intentionally inspired by Jews.

Like, on one hand they’ll always hold a special place in my heart because when do Jews *ever* get to be portrayed as elegant and mystical and beautiful? Even if modern DA elves are a fallen, oppressed people, those vibes are still present. And even if it’s not always handled well, the struggle between the more assimilated city elves and the more traditionally minded Dalish is very real. The longing for a lost homeland. The ache and resentment and fear that nothing is stable & people could turn on a dime. The isolationist tendencies that arise as a consequence of that. Perhaps prickly and defensive to outsiders, but loving and community-centered to their own.

In short, it resonates, and I always felt like I had room to roleplay and embrace these concepts, particularly in the older games.

Tbh even the Dalish clans always on the verge of dying felt real. Perhaps too real. And I think the main problem (for me), was that it was never treated with the gravity and respect it should’ve been. The characters shrug and move on.

Even Davrin’s distaste for his people’s focus on the past doesn’t bother me. Because not only do people like that exist, they still made him unapologetically Dalish (he even named his gryphon Assan! An elvish word!) It’s obvious he still cares deeply about elves, and he was the only one who consistently expressed concern for modern elves when the topic came up. If they’d handled the rest of the elves in the game better (which I’ll expand on in a second), I think he’d actually serve as a great constrast to Bellara.

But then we get to the Evanuris, constant victim blaming, and the inexplicable white-guilt projecting the writers added in Veilguard. (And that last one stings because minorities are never treated as individuals—a bad apple is always turned into a representive of the collective.)

Choosing to make the Evanuris the root of Thedas’ woes might be a neat twist in isolation, but it’s *not* in isolation. Not when Jews are at the center of every conspiracy theory and often painted as this nebulous, shadowy cabal controlling society for their own nefarious means. And to then have the gall to paint *all* modern elves with this brush? As if they’re responsible for a few shitheads that existed thousands of years in the past (that also happened to enslave them). As if they’re somehow complicit when past games have made it abundantly clear that elves are treated like trash with ZERO institutional power? (And Veilguard conveniently brushes this under the rug).

It’d be one thing to make Bellara apologize—because it’s kinda in character—but there’s no meaningful pushback. And elf!Rook has at least three opportunities to spout those same bullshit white-guilt apologies. Tbh, it soured me to Harding’s entire questline.

And the distressing reality that the Evanuris might make people even more distrustful and violent towards elves? It’s practically framed as a *new* fear. Which is utterly ridiculous when even an elven Inquisitor can state that people will always find a way to blame elves (with an appropriately resigned anger)

And going back to Bellara, I hate hate hate that her questline almost encourages us to throw away the Archive, as if this monumental resource is selfish to want to preserve? And why do we get to make this choice? Rook might not even be a elf! It’s similar to the framing of Merrill’s quest to restore the eluvian, but at least Merrill fights tooth and nail for it. Why is the desire to reclaim and discover lost knowledge always presented as stupid and dangerous?

One last thing: Epler said they were trying to give the Dalish a win in Veilguard, and I assume baking in a “save the Dalish!” quest was an attempt to make up for the potiential massacres in past games, but, uh…it failed imo. How is it a “win” to make them nothing more than poor little props for the Big Hero to swoop in and save? They have no agency. They’re shown no respect. We don’t even get to talk to them!

Anyway, I’ve seen some excellent takes on the anti-indigenous racism baked into the elves, but not one from a Jewish perspective. So here’s me, a Jew, venting about a series that’s somehow still near and dear to my heart, and probably always will be, despite the racism and antisemitism. (Though whether I’ll replay datv or buy any future games is up in the air. Right now veilguard feels like the last straw—the mediocre writing failed to make up for the highly questionable & infurating choices made).

[idolomantises]

I’ve seen people make excuses for the writing by mentioning it’s all just set up for spin offs and sequels but… I don’t want that? Why on earth would I want to wait 3 years for a show to say “oh by the way these characters will get proper conclusions in the spin offs”.

Just tl:dr I’m over this series and don’t plan on watching any of the sequels or spin offs. Maybe if they introduce a hot robot character I’ll check it out.

There’s not even a promise that every single character that has an inconclusive ending (which is all of them btw) will have spin offs and sequel shows. I’m pretty sure they’re likely going to just use a completely different cast since League has a lot of characters.

I’ve seen arguments that the season is bad because it has very few episodes and wasn’t spaced out, and while I do agree the pacing is terrible I also… don’t even think this show could have been salvaged if they gave it a full 4 seasons. Because either way, it was going to end with a lot of characters being badly written, sideline and having arcs unfinished so it can be explored in sequels and spin offs (if that even happen).

One thing I liked about arcane is that it avoided a lot of really bad tropes that I’ve seen modern queer media weirdly struggle with. Arcane avoided the pitfalls written female characters, female characters used to push male relationships and very clearly abusive couples that are dismissed just because they’re gay.

Then season 2 happens and Mel becomes a disposable black woman trope, Sky only existed for male angst, Maddie is literally there for shock value and adds nothing to the narrative, Vi just… turned into that and Caitvi is toxic yuri in a way that’s very unfun and frustrating. These two are seriously so incompatible for each other, but they make out and have sex a lot so I’m sure this destructive relationship with warring idealogies will be fine. Please queer shows for the love of god stop assuming gay characters kissing and fucking makes up for their lack of communication and horrible behavior to each other.

Honestly I’m really disappointed that all these things happened to Sky, Mel and Maddie because watching fans tear apart female characters for 4 years just for existing and getting in the way of ships only for them to be exactly that and for fans to cheer about their suffering pisses me off so bad like girl… what the hell happened did the writers have amnesia. How do you write this show right after season one and fuck up this bad.

Maybe we should stop making videos about how tv shows write female/queer characters well until they’re actually done because this is getting ridiculous.

And yes I want to come back to the issue with how black characters were treated because I do find it pretty gross for Mel and Ekko to be absent for most of the show but then come back to basically save the day so fans don’t complain about how they were obviously sidelined for the sake of other characters. I dont really care for Ekko/Jinx but I did enjoy their time together in the AU.

And another annoyance is that this show did such an incredible job at introducing moral greyness to the show but then got scared to really commit to giving these characters any consequences. And I don’t mean like death or going to jail, but I mean holding grudges. I think Jinx is a very interesting and tragic character but she’s also… a terrorist? She caused the death of their friends and father? Like she’s a grown woman making these decisions. Having characters run around and risk their lives to save her felt a bit frustrating because yeah circumstances lead to this but half of these circumstances are also her fault. I really wish the entire season was about Vi choosing whether or not she was ready to forgive Jinx instead of basically accepting her back because Vander is back.

And VANDER…. Actually I won’t say anything because the more I mention him the more it pisses me off.

I have more thoughts but I gotta draw some comics so I’ll just leave at that. Disappointing season that I think is a lot worse than fans insist it is. It’s not one or two issues, it’s just compounding problems that won’t improve.

Thoughts on Arcane season 2

I didn’t like this season

It’s not bad, but I found it incredibly rushed, cramped and deeply unsatisfying

While season 1 had several protagonists it was also pretty obvious that Vi and Jinx were the emotional core of the entire show so why on earth was their dynamic barely explored here

Vi went from being my favorite character to a character I found deeply frustrating and annoying. What the hell is her personality of getting her sister back and fucking the hot lesbian. She has no consistency whatsoever and it’s something I don’t think the show realizes how batshit the constant flip flopping in. What do you mean you sister tells you she’s going to kill herself and then you start fucking your messy situationship

I don’t really care for Jayvik but I found Jayce’s confession very sweet.

Mel my beautiful queen they’re gonna call you a Mary Sue

What the fuck was with all that Witch shit and Ambessa’s death was incredibly unsatisfying

Victor fans who kept begging the team to not make him a hot buff robot so he can still be a skinny twink pisses me off so bad because now we have an inferior twink robot design. I know fans probably didn’t influence this but I also need to complain about their lack of taste like what do you mean you didn’t want to see a hot buff robot man.

Ekko feels like an incredibly unimportant character and I’m pretty sure fans only like him because of what he can do for Jinx. A part of me wished he actually did hold a grudge just to see how fans reacted.

Season 1 was all about setting up emotional complexities and how nobody was truly evil and the show made it seem like there was no way for anyone to fully recovery from this but everyone is holding hands and singing kumbaya’s so alright nevermind then

This show was honestly a little too in love with Jinx. I did not enjoy her writing in acts 1 and 2.

The jokes were really bad this season

The songs oh my god the SONGS. I didn’t mind them in season 1 but in season 2 it started to remind me of love is blind and anyone who has watched that show would know what a massive insult that is.

Caitvi lesbian sex scene and I couldn’t even enjoy it because the writing was pissing me off

Caitlyn should’ve continued her little fascist arc.

Mel’s arc this season felt like weird fanfiction.

A bunch of random side characters die off unceremoniously after the show gave them so much unnecessary screen time

I hated Isha sorry. I’ve never seen a character more clearly made to die.

Jinx death means nothing to me because I know she isn’t dead so why even do all that lol

I will never call this show sexist but it has done a massive disservice to its female characters.

[fiftysevenacademics]

I've seen a few posts critical of the plot of Fangs of Fortune, and other comments elsewhere about it being style over substance.

On some other post, I commented that if you're looking for a tightly constructed, linear plot, you'll be disappointed. The plot is fine, but a large part of the story is told through what people too easily dismiss as "style" instead of witty dialogue or whatever.

You can tell a story through different mediums, and in this show, visual storytelling reigns. The music does a lot of heavy lifting, too. We shouldn't shortchange the writing: there is some amazing dialogue that is skillfully deployed to develop characters.

But it's true that plot devices sometimes appear from out of nowhere and there is one thing that, to me, is borderline ridiculous. But by the time it happens I was so emotionally invested, I chose to just roll with it.

But this is the difference between telling a story in straightforward narrative style, and telling a story using the language of dreams or myth. We've all had dreams that affect us profoundly, that convey a message even if they sound nonsensical when we try to explain them. And myths frequently involve characters having sudden knowledge or being sent on a task or quest that doesn't make sense as a way to solve a problem.

The point of both dreams and myths is to make sense of contradictions and dilemmas in our personal lives and in our cultures. This is why dreams have emotional resonance even when they don't make sense, and why myths sometimes resonate over centuries or even millennia.

Fangs of Fortune is based on ancient Chinese lore about mythical creatures, and it would have been a shame to shoehorn them into a narrative limited to human motivations, goals, and abilities. I hate media that tries to rationalize mythical beings, and love Fangs of Fortune because it refuses to do this. It takes the viewer on a gripping emotional journey through the lives of characters whose motivations are partly relatable and human, and partly in the less knowable realm of gods and demons that humans have always used when pondering the great mysteries of life, like the nature of love and sacrifice, and how we should behave in the face of loss and injustice.

A lot of people try to make "dreamlike" shows and movies and few succeed. Fangs of Fortune, for me, sets a new standard in how it can be done.

[eerna]

First of all thank you SO MUCH for being a safe space to be critical of the new arcane season. I wanted to love it. I really really did. But there’s just too much I can’t look past. It’s nice to have a blog I can scroll through where everyone is in a similar boat.

The more I think about it the more I take issue with the concept behind episode 7. Don’t get me wrong from a stand-alone perspective it’s the best episode in the new season and had my favorite moments. But the more I think about the more it feels…icky. I’m absolutely not opposed to seeing a well adjusted Powder I love Jinx and her tragedy is the hardest hitting part of the show for me. That said, season 1 gave me the impression that powder was always going to grow up “bad” due to the circumstances she was born into.

Even from the beginning, we see she experiences psychosis, and likely other unnamed mental conditions (I resonate most with the idea of her having bpd.) OBLIGATORY mental illness OBVIOUSLY does not make you a bad person—I deal with a lot of them myself—but Powder was growing up in a situation where the world was against her. She was in a triggering environment that exacerbated her mental health issues. In my opinion, Powder’s tragedy was about how the situation she was born into took a vulnerable young girl, chewed her up, and spit her out as a “monster.”

Then we get episode 7 where… everything is ok?? Don’t get me started on the peace between zaun and piltover its ridiculous and that’s all been said. The scenes on the bridge especially irk me WHY are people so freely traveling between the two cities what happened to the classism WHERE IS THE SOCIOECONOMIC INEQUALITY??

To return to Powder, I get what they were going for. I do. I personally have OCD that only flares up when my mental health is bad and is mostly unnoticeable otherwise. I get that one episode isn’t much time to explore things, but I take issue that after LOSING HER SISTER powder would just? Be okay??? Well adjusted?? Maybe I’m biased. One of my favorite things about Jinx are her struggles with mental health—it hits close to home. It hurts to see Arcane mostly drop that in the second season. Does au!Powder have psychosis episodes? Does she ever hallucinate Vi? What about her abandonment issues? It feels so cheap to me to say actually if Powder had never accidentally blown up her family she would have been completely healthy and fine actually—her path to becoming Jinx always always had a societal problem at the root of it.

And maybe you’ll say well powder has a better support system so of course she’s doing fine and I can almost accept that… except for the apparent peace between piltover and zaun?? ARCANE WHERE IS THE SOCIOECONOMIC INEQUALITY YOU CANNOT TELL ME YOU FORGOT? She’s not facing the same kind of discrimination and hardship that main universe Jinx experienced and that made her story so compelling. Now again, one episode isn’t much to explore and perhaps she has issues bubbling under the surface, but it feels strange to completely drop that part of her character in favor of everyone is happy and fine and alive (except vi fuck you vi).

Tldr; Jinx’s story stood out to me as a tragedy about how a bad environment can exacerbate already present mental health issues. She was ALWAYS doomed—she did not have the kind of support and care she needed. Jinx’s problem was never that ooooooog trauma (and silco’s parenting) made her evil. Jinx’s problem is that the world simply doesn’t give a fuck about her and throws her to the wolves. You can remove the trauma from the Powder, but you can’t ever forget that she’s living on the underside of Piltover’s boot.

I can see what they were going for with well-adjusted powder and don’t get me wrong I LOVED her she was so cute. But in combination with some of the other uhhh decisions this season made it just feels like a cop out. Her issues with mental health are nonexistent and yay piltover doesn’t hate poor people anymore, isnt that great? If I could change even one thing I’d give her a little psychosis episode in the scene where Ekko questions her about VI’s death—tying her back to Jinx and causing Ekko to break down the boundaries even more between his mental schema of Powder vs Jinx.

Also don’t even get me started on how I’ve seen some people in the fandom respond. I’ve already seen “awwww ekko should’ve gotten to keep sane!jinx” which. HELLO???

Np~ I am glad to share people's thoughts with the world!! It's nice to read similar thoughts and opinions to your own.

Yeah T.T I enjoyed the p so much, but it was still riddled with the same issues that plagued the rest of the season. The largest is definitely the fact that none of the kids had proper childhoods because the system they live under doesn't allow them peace. You are so right on Powder's episodes - when Ekko started pressuring her and she told him to get out before she does something she'll regret, I legit thought we were about to witness one. She had the body language and the tone of someone who IS about to go off, but then she... Just didn't... Add to that the unrealistic economic situation, which I've already ranted about, and you remove the two unshakeable factors which contributed to Jinx' downfall. Once again the writers are forgetting that the characters didn't start having issues in s1e1, but were suffering long before the show started.

The point of the episode is sort of Dynasties and Dystopia 2: Electric Boogaloo, in that it's dedicated to Ekko's mental separation between Powder and Jinx breaking down. But where in the first instance the breaking came from a really organic place - him realizing mid-battle she remembers their childhood friendship as well as he does - this time it's much simpler. Like. Of COURSE he would start caring for her again if he met her under the most perfect circumstances, where loving her is super duper easy. Letting Powder exhibit her "Jinx"ish tendencies more often would have been a much more interesting situation. I did appreciate the ones she'd had - creating a Vi doll, treating her like she's still alive - but it could have gone even further imo.

As for those saying he should have gotten to keep her as Powder... No what. The point of the episode was that the Powder he'd met made him miss the Jinx he'd known. He wasn't tempted to stay in the perfect world (akhem Heimerdinger akhem) because none of those people could understand him. It's the reason he trusted Vi despite her suspicious return to the Undercity - he can't help but feel connected to those who went through the same trauma he had back then. And that's my fav aspect of why he still cares about Jinx - for the longest time, the two of them were the only survivors of THEIR Undercity. She chose Silco, but she was still the only one who could understand his pain, even across enemy lines. I missed this in s2, too. He said he'd given up on the Undercity becoming a better place, which is bs, he absolutely never did. The only thing he'd given up was her!! SO the speech really should have been about that, and the alienation he'd felt.

In short, I don't really think the episode should have had a "perfect" AU to show Ekko a lesson. It would have been much more interesting to keep it realistic. But oh well, I suppose that's just the chorus of s2

[inconsequentiallittleghoul]

DH is a beautiful woman that did her damn thing when it comes to playing claudia, but the hairstyle in this pic (and couple others in the show) has kinda rubbed me the wrong way ://. obviously no disrespect to DH since all my negative comments are directed at the people behind the scenes. bc this didn’t happen in s1 when BB and her looser curl pattern played claudia and that fact alone makes me feel justified in my anger.

bc why does one of the main characters of this show have a hairpiece that barely even blends into her natural hair?? the production team prides themselves on how much time and effort goes into the set designs, costume designs, prop designs, etc. (rightfully so, amazing work) but can’t even provide one of the main characters with a decent fucking hairpiece????

like it must’ve been awkward enough rushing through the recast and filming process but the fact that they couldn’t even get her a hairstylist skilled enough in textured hair to style hers to fit the claudia look they were going for is fucking ridiculous. and i get that they had BBs claudia in mind for s2 at first but when she left they should have made changes that better fit DH. and the fact that BB made comments about hair being important for claudia in s1, only for them to not give DH the same care and attention just feels antiblack to me.

this show is truly so lovely and it really sucks that big details about these black characters are being decided by a room filled with mostly white people. then rewatching the after episode thingies with everyone talking about how much detail they put into this and how much research went into that, only for claudias hair to be a detail they couldn’t concern themselves with now that she’s not played by a biracial woman with loose curls is :/ ughh.

i don’t think I’ll ever get over it and i will forever mourn the various hairstyles we could’ve seen paris claudia in had they cared enough to hire a black hairstylist. bc ive seen DHs insta and that woman stays looking gorgeous with her hair styled to perfection so im positive the styling crew of this show could’ve done so much more with claudias hair. and if they couldn’t then they should’ve hired somebody who could.

sighhhhhhhhh ok im done now. but if the same problem persists in s3, I’ll fucking scream

[the-glorious-evolution-fanart]

It's crazy how cringe Arcane S2 Viktor is. He's a Machine Herald without the "machine". It's just like calling Mordekaiser as the "Iron Revenant", and taking away the "revenant". It makes no sense at all, and destroys the whole character. It's like making Jhin with his face visible, when everything that makes Jhin himself is the anonymity of his face.

Suffice to say, I'm disappointed, and if they choose to make Arcane Viktor as the in-game one with the VGU & Rework, I'll quit playing Viktor. I don't want to play as another corrupt mage like Brand or Xerath. I want to play as a cyborg man from Zaun. Closest we have is Urgot, but even then, he's not a ranged character. Camille? Again, close range character, and from Piltover. And they're not quite the same as Viktor, who is fully set on prosthetics, and helping people, and being a scientist who builds golems.

It's like Viktor will become a completely different character, and I'll continue to prefer his current LoR version as the in-game canon since I love that version of him right now. Welp, guess the only place where we can play as his original version will be LoR. Such a shame.

The whole plotline of "Piltover-Zaun becoming one against Viktor's and Noxus' armies" makes me cringe so hard, you have no idea. Weren't we supposed to have an animation series about Piltover and Zaun? When did it become about "Noxus vs Piltover and Zaun"? But I liked Jayce. He's become Giga Chad, basically. Sure, doesn't fit his S1 character, but which character stayed loyal to their S1 versions? I didn't like S1 too because it didn't set up the base for Viktor becoming the Machine Herald at all (not into robotics, no comment on human emotions, etc.), or for Jayce to be an arrogant guy who's very hard to work with. No, instead we had their "better" versions. It makes me so angry. 😭 I'm not even starting with what kind of abomination they've turned WW into. He's supposed to talk. Not act like an animal %90 of the time and just speak one word the whole season.

Swain crows and Mel allying with LeBlanc was cool, ngl. Doesn't make a lot of sense as to why Swain doesn't move a finger to stop Ambessa and her army whatsoever, but whatever. Also what was the "subtle foreshadowing" they did on the last episode? Geez.

Ambessa fighting scene is literally what happens in every movie: the guys who are shooting all the time suddenly stop and let the main character(s) kill them. What a classic.

Betrayal wasn't expected but didn't surprise me.

Viktor model is just outright cringe. Mask looks ridiculous. Hair looks ridiculous. Cane? A whole another level of ridiculous. Voice not at all Machine Herald's. Human face still visible under Reddit Upvote button, disgusting. Halo of runes(?) behind his head, forced Biblical stuff. Has magical husk slaves like Evelynn in LoR who has the ability to fly and infect, apparently. SUS. He also has gone to the full "people shouldn't have control" mind-set, which I don't appreciate since even the Convergence Comic Viktor at the start was hating the cult, blaming them for twisting his ideology for their own sick beliefs. His third arm just looks like a horrid monster from S.O.M.A. game, but in a really bad way. Also wow, Viktor now apparently has the power to telekinesis.

Wow, apparently Caitlyn is such a powerful and lucky(!) character that she can fight while being stabbed by a dagger. Wow. Not plot-armor at all.

I appreciated how Ambessa's men literally do nothing to help their commander, which should have happened since Noxians use any and all means necessary to win. They used Singed's chemical weapons during the invasion of Ionia. Guess they forgot about their own principle: "Guile" 💀

WW can teleport now?! Wtf. Also impenetrable skin. They're really going for that "Shuriman Ascended WW", huh? Everyone can fly now, apparently.

Wow, galactic god Viktor. So cringe. Old Viktor. Viktor paradox. How worse could it have been?

Aaand, "happy" ending because why not. 💀

Jinx using herself as a bullet? Now that's a first. Was Jinx's death supposed to be sad? Sorry, I was cringing over every other thing wrong with the act that I couldn't find it in myself to feel bad.

What I didn't understand is how did Orinna came to be??? Hello??? Can we get an explanation please??? Because she's not the Orianna we know at all.

NOOO THEY'LL DESTROY NOXUS NEXT!!! NOOOOO 😭😭😭

^^^ it's over.

Orianna got injected with Viktor's and Warwick's blood I guess, so now she has 3 dads!

[elliotthinkssometimes]

I will never stop thinking about jayce and viktor they are such perfect characters oh my god

I think it’s so interesting how when we first meet them you think like ‘oh jayce is gonna get corrupted by the power of being a counsellor’ and it turns out that really viktor who gets corrupted which actually makes so much sense.

like you take this guy who grew up in the shitty part of the city who has to sneak into the academy and work so hard for everything, with a body that is literally falling apart and has been his entire life. And you give him this partner who confident and well off, piltovers perfect man of progress and perfectly likeable and healthy. And she loves him anyway. No matter whether you see the ending as confirmation of jayvik or not, you cannot say that jayce doesn’t care about viktor. In fact most things he’s done in the show have been for him or because of him.

But there’s no way to stop viktor from feeling inferior. and then you give him all this power and knowledge that can fix people, and fix him. After all of his work and research he can finally make an actual difference and actually help people. And how is he expected to see that he’s turning these people into husks? Everything is perfect and peaceful and working.

until jayce inexplicably blows him up. Which makes no sense right? Because we already know that he cares about viktor a ridiculous amount and it’s when we find out that he was on orders from viktor that it actually makes sense.

and jayce goes through this horrible physical version of what viktors life has been like: dragging himself from the depths of the undercity to the very top of piltover with a shitty leg and no one to help him. and that’s when jayce understands, and that’s how he’s able to talk him out of destroying everything. He was the only one who was ever able to show him the error of his ways in ever universe and possibility.

viktor told him. And jayce told viktor first.

they have only ever wanted to help each other and i am going a little bit insane cjskcnsnxgshs

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 55 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 3 | lesson 54 | lesson 55.2

not they ended last lesson on the cliffhanger and barely addressed it in this one 🧍🏾

honestly that's on par for someone as closed off as raphael but FUCK i wanted some insight on how he's actually feeling. what's up with angels and not letting themselves show weakness ???

also the fact that this part of the lesson is called "back to the sorcerer's society" ??? mc's had too many death scares i can't keep doing this

gotta get all the mammon crumbs i can now that i know that the stupid date feature is 30 FUCKING DOLLARS 😐 i'm semi p2p but this shit is getting more and more ridiculous as the days drag on. like i'll just use character and and fanfiction atp

it's the way that i forgot the fact that mc's existence can literally tear apart reality at the seams. like that whole thing that happened in season 3 (4?) of og when simeon had to steal lucifer's ring and ended up becoming human bc of it

i feel like his punishment would've been way more lethal if the stakes weren't so dire. mc having lucifer's ring was the only sure fire way to ensure stability within and between the human, celestial, and demon realms without having any of them implode

this also explains why magic sickness is so concerning for mc specifically. to quote marvel, kayden is probably this universe's anchor being. if they go down, so does everything else in the timeline

me and sol got beef now bc what /lh

like yes he did what had to be done but did he HAVE to do what had to be done ????

also the fact that mc broke the measuring device after solomon had to fix it with reinforcements bc he himself broke the device before is so ??? like how fucking strong is mc ??????

this brings even more of a concern to the fact that a war breaking out between any of the realms would literally be life and death. if any of the brothers or their friends family get hurt, mc would cause irreparable damage to whoever or whatever is closest to them, whether the target caused the problem or not. like that's terrifying

this is why i love satan

he's almost more no-bullshit than lucifer is, which makes sense all things considered. in his eyes they still don't know anything about mc's power. all this is to satan is an educated guess, and when it inevitably gets disproved, then what? what if they do end up hurting someone

i doubt that'll happen since there's so little time left in this season but idk. it's not entirely out of the realm of possibility

i'm very glad that they used the very obvious answer as to why mc's powers are going haywire, bc the whole "it's just bc they're so loving and kind" thing just seemed like a cop out to me. like where are the stakes. what about the first 40 lessons of the game

ANYWAYS i'm very interested to see how this'll play out. part of me thinks diavolo and lucifer already know bc 1) they're not stupid and 2) dia is in close enough proximity to the time demon himself to know when something happened to the time stream (or as barbie himself called it, "time soup")

like look at the way barbatos reacted and the way diavolo immediately changed the subject. they both know something's going on, but whether or not diavolo knows the specifics is up in the air

satan is also the funniest mf on the planet idc argue with the wall. he really is the product of all his brothers bc this SCREAMS mammon and levi

:((( poor raph

i honestly can't even imagine what it feels like. the only angels he probably has left that he's actually close to are michael and maybe luke. even then, he probaboy sees luke as someone he can't confide in and feels like he's losing his brother(s) all over again

at least with simeon in purgatory hall, he can delude himself into thinking that simeon's still an angel. but if he's not there anymore, it's all but set in stone that he's lost what little connection he had left to simeon and, in a way, the other brothers, bc luke wasn't around or old enough to remember pre-war times

on a brighter note...michael lore. kinda. and mephisto being a kisser of multiple asses (mephisto fans i'm sorry he's so fun to dog on)

i wish he could get his head outta his ass though. like actually. just pay your boyfriend a visit ffs, he'd be beyond happy to see you

of COURSE he's not in his room and of COURSE this is how the lesson ends

watch lesson 60 end with a michael-related cliffhanger. like watch them tease his design reveal and then just cut the shit off right before he's shown

but i need the michael design asap i'm so serious. solmare count your days

[penelopegarciaismygf]

Hey guys, so in case any fanfic writers are desperate to write a fic for me, here's an overly specific criteria: (I'm not sending an ask because i get scared of sounding demanding and also this is silly please don't take me too seriously)

○BAU!reader x spencer is superior. I said it. I really believe that the only way for there to be a functional relationship is for them to be working together because otherwise, they'd literally never see each other. Also, this is the best because of all the fun options there are- forbidden romance, reader gets kidnapped/injured, + writers can have fun writing cases... you get my point. It's the best.

○if the reader annoys me then I won't read the fic. I get that the purpose of having an unnamed character is so the reader can relate but that really doesn't mean they have to be an emotionless void. Give me some flavour please!

○Spencer not being anything like he is in the show annoys me to know end. No, I'm not going to read a high school fic where spencer is popular, and he bullies the reader for being a nerd. Have we watched the same show?? (Unfortunately, that is a real fic 😔) but I'm also not going to read a fic where he cheats either because that's ridiculous.

○I want to see the team! Sure, I love spencer reid, but I'm also a Criminal Minds fan, and I miss seeing fics that involve everyone. Especially if the reader is in the bau because i love the different dynamics

(Okay now we're going to get me specific)

○I love the daddy issues reader trope. Because yes I do believe that reading a fanfic of spencer reid saying everything I need to hear would fix me. Also if it's a bau reader fic I want to see a rossi father figure situation. I wholeheartedly believe that if I was in the bau I would force that man to adopt me and I want to see that in a fic

○I need more fics where spencer is obsessed, like just so down bad for the reader it's crazy. I know it exists and I need more because i know for a fact that he doesn't catch feelings often so when he does it's crazy

○spencer would lowkey be manipulative. I don't think it would be intentional but in a relationship he would make sure he KNEW his partner and we anyway know that he has issues with people leaving so if the reader tried he'd be reading those microexpressions (whatever that means) and hed know exactly what to say to make them stay. I don't think he'd do it intentionally, but that fear of abandonment runs deep. That+those puppy eyes would make him impossible to leave, and I really want a fic that captures that. Like more than anything.

[starlost-mochi-x]

lonely st. ✧ chapter vi : broken mirrors

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

warnings: introducing a new character! jisung is the bestest ever and the biggest babygirl, sweet hyunjin, my nervous shy boy, very very fluffy, very soft, hyunjin keeps being clumsy

a/n: writing jisung is so ridiculously fun you have no idea

series masterlist | skz masterlist

Y/n glanced across at Jisung, trying not to smile. He was busy bopping his head to the beat of whatever was playing in his headphones. His textbook was open in front of him, his laptop propping it up. His headphones were plugged into it, the excess cord wrapped loosely around his wrist.

Y/n put her pen down and leaned back in her chair, trying to see what he was listening to. She'd been finished with the assigned math work for the double lesson and she was watching Jisung. He was perfect entertainment.

Leaning back just a little further, she noticed his work was half-done. He was doing it at least; for the past couple of lessons he'd done nothing but bother her; asking for help on miscellaneous questions, not listening when she explained them to him, whispering rude jokes to her, doodling on her hand. Or all three of them if he was hyper enough. Y/n had learned to identify when he'd been gulping those sugary energy drinks Hyunjin refused to touch under any circumstances.

Now she knew why.

Not that she minded. It was fun to finally be able to sit next to someone. And Jisung didn't seem to mind that she wasn't much of a talker, excitedly filling the space between them with whatever happened to be occupying his mind at the moment.

Y/n failed to keep the smile from twitching at the corners of her mouth. His Spotify was open, a half-window, playing some song on full volume.

Queencard, she thought, smirking. Isn't that some popular (G)-IDLE song?

She leaned forward and tugged loosely on his sleeve. He pulled one tangled earphone out of his ear and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Whatcha listening to?" she asked, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, this one really good girl group song. Here," he shoved one of his earphones at her and she took it, grinning unconsciously as the beats filled her ear.

Jisung was doing the dance to the song in tiny, haphazard movements, completely focused. His eyes were trained on his math notebook but Y/n figured his head was somewhere else entirely. If she listened, she could hear him singing under his breath in the low chatter of the classroom.

Y/n huffed out a tiny laugh. A boy with freckles and blonde hair turned back from the seat in front of them to face Jisung. He was grinning ear to ear.

"Jisung, I know you love that song, but Mr Yang said he'd give you a detention if you didn't finish the classwork."

Jisung swore and hunched over his math book. There wasn't much class time left, and Y/n saw his pen scribbling messily over the paper, scrawling equations and diagrams. Her eyes widened. She'd never seen him write that fast in her life.

"There," Jisung said, clearly satisfied as he put his pen down. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a grin.

The blonde boy deadpanned. "And we have to show Mr Yang that we finished it before we're allowed to leave. Why do you think Y/n got up, like, half an hour ago?"

Groaning, Jisung tugged out his headphones with a sigh and snatched his book from the desk, marching up to the front of the classroom. Y/n watched with an amused smile as he practically shoved his book in their math teacher's face, clearly eager to show his finished work.

The blonde boy turned to Y/n. "I was lying to him about the detention part. But I get tired of having to explain everything to him when he could just do the work in class," he grinned.

Y/n brought her hand up to cover her smile. He had a point; Jisung never finished his work, no matter how much the teachers nagged him.

"Clever tactic," she mused.

The boy huffed out a laugh as Jisung came back down the desk aisle with a self-satisfied smile. He pushed his bleached fringe out of his eyes, his freckles changing positions as he smiled at Y/n again.

"I'm Felix, by the way."

Y/n laid her head on her folded arms, trying not to fall asleep. Breaktime seemed so long ago, and Y/n glanced at the clock above the board, wondering when the bell for lunch would go. It currently read 5:33 PM. It was midday.

They should really get that replaced, she wondered idly.

She'd sat through three mind-numbingly boring lessons, having already gone ahead and finished most of the work for the classes. Not that she found the content very riveting anyway. It was amazing how boring the teachers could make a curriculum.

She blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and let them droop shut, fighting the urge to close them completely and succumb to a deep, dreamless sleep. She let out a little squeak as someone poked her in the side.

Turning her head and prepared to snap at whoever it was that had disturbed her, she locked eyes with a familiar, smiling face.

Hyunjin.

She huffed at him anyway, glaring at him in mock disapproval.

"What?" she whisper-shouted at him.

Hyunjin bit the corner of his lip and leaned forwards, eyes flitting to the front of the room to check that the teacher was occupied. Which he was, scrawling unintelligible diagrams on the board.

Hyunjin grinned at her and passed her a slip of paper, folded over three times. Raising an eyebrow, Y/n turned back to her desk and unfolded the paper. He'd written a single sentence at the top.

It's been a while since we talked.

Y/n side-eyed him and picked up her pen. She scribbled a reply and handed it to him, eyes not leaving the teacher.

It's been a day, Hyunjin. You're such a drama king.

Y/n saw him fight a laugh in her peripheral vision. He wrote his reply and held it out to her.

So? I missed you.

Y/n felt her heart drop to the bottom of her stomach. She wasn't really sure what that meant. Did he miss talking to her? Or being around her? What did he mean?

She knew one thing for sure. Tapping her pen against her knuckles, she paused, hesitating, before writing out a shaky reply and passing it back to him, biting her lip nervously.

I missed you too, Hyunjinnie.

Y/n didn't dare turn her head, fighting to keep her gaze locked on the much-less-interesting view of the diagrams on the board. Which she had no intention of copying down, by the way.

Would Hyunjin think she was weird for saying it back? Maybe it had just been a casual, chill sort of thing, not a sentimental 'oh, how I missed you so much' thing. She began to panic, her knee bouncing rapidly under the desk. She ran her fingertips along her pen, feeling the ridges and bumps of it as she fretted silently.

Y/n didn't know how long she sat with her eyes locked on her work, though it was finished. She didn't dare look across at Hyunjin, though all she wanted to do was gaze at his stupid face and gauge his reaction to her reply.

Maybe he would think she was just saying it out of pity. Or for the politeness of it. Or maybe he would think that she was a weirdo for calling him a nickname. Shit, she hadn't even asked him for permission to call him Hyunjinnie... Would he mind?

But we've been friends for long enough, right? I mean, we pretty much spend time together, alone, just the two of us, in the library every day. Maybe he won't mind. Oh no, maybe he might. Shit, why did I write that? He might think it's weird...

Hyunjin held the note out to her again between two long, slender fingers, not looking away from the front. Y/n kept her gaze trained on the front of the classroom too, reaching blindly across the aisle. Her fingers brushed his and a sudden chill ran down her spine. Taking the note, she pressed her fingers together around it. Like she could make it disappear if she just squeezed her fingertips together on the paper hard enough.

Biting the inside of her cheek, and trying to calm down her heart, which was racing suddenly for no foreseeable reason, she unfolded the note.

I passed by your math classroom on an errand for my teacher earlier. I saw you sitting with Jisung, listening to his music.

It was cute.

Y/n felt her cheeks tingling, her heart thudding so loud she was sure he could hear it. She swallowed, the action almost hurting, her throat was so dry. Like she'd been wandering for days in a desert.

Glancing down at the note, she noticed his handwriting had changed on the last sentence, like he'd paused before writing it. Her mind became a mess of jumbled, mushy thoughts.

Does he mean Jisung's cute? Or I'm cute? Or the fact that we were just sitting together...? I feel so hot of a sudden. Is the AC on? Wait, he probably wants me to reply...

She thought hard for a second, pen flicking between her fingers, palms unusually clammy. She let her tongue push into the hollow of her cheek, wondering what would be a reasonable, rational response to his reply.

Before the tip of her pen could touch the paper, Hyunjin outstretched his hand, letting it hold in the space between them. They were at the very back of the classroom, so he clearly wasn't concerned about anyone noticing.

Y/n's mind short circuited as she saw the movement, his fingers flicking back and forth in a 'give me' motion. Wait, what did he want? Something from her pencil case? Her pen? Maybe her book?

There was only one conclusion.

Reaching out her hand, Y/n shakily interlaced her fingers with Hyunjin's in the space between their desks. He froze for a second, hand limp in the air, before his fingers closed around hers.

All of the breath whooshed out of Y/n's lungs, leaving her surprised and breathless. She couldn't think; all she could focus on was the warm, dry feeling of Hyunjin's palm, and his long, slender digits lacing with hers in what felt like the perfect solution to a puzzle. The missing piece.

Hyunjin squeezed her hand softly before letting go. He made the flicking gesture with his fingers again. Y/n was looking at him through her peripheral; all she could see was his hand. He was doing the same.

The realisation hit Y/n like a slap in the face as her eyes locked onto the unfolded note on her desk.

Fuck.

He wanted the note.

Feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment, Y/n quickly withdrew her hand, taking the note from her desk with fumbling fingers and shoving it into his hand. Her heart sank.

You idiot.

She'd just held his hand. Hwang Hyunjin, the star basketballer, the school's it boy with his perfect charm and stupidly handsome face.

Wait, handsome?

Unable to stand being within a metre of him any longer, and feeling increasingly confused about her sudden change in attitude towards her friend, Y/n raised her hand, asking some question about the nature of the umpteenth diagram currently being drawn by their teacher on the board.

The action reset her mind a little and she focused intensely on her teacher's reply, trying to block out everything else. And her mind, and her swirling mess of emotions and thoughts, and the strange tingling sensation in her palm where Hyunjin had held it. Her stomach felt all swirly and fuzzy too.

The teacher finished answering Y/n's question and turned to flip through his textbook. Y/n's heart jolted as Hyunjin held out the folded note to her again, not looking at her.

Her heart sunk even further and she braced herself for an insult or a rejection as she took it, making sure not to brush his fingers again.

She unfolded the note again, eyes flicking across the row of numbers he'd scribbled down.

Jisung told me he gave you his number. Thought I'd do the same.

He'd doodled a stupid drawing of some cartoon ferret next to it. Y/n peered at the drawing, noticing how he'd added a little mole under its left eye, just like his real one.

Y/n kept inspecting the drawing, tilting her head to make sense of the doodle. It was sort of cute. She liked it.

She didn't notice the way Hyunjin's cheeks were dusted in pink.

Y/n made her way down the hallway, eyes fixated on the beams of sunlight spilling into the corridors from the large windows. The sun was always nice at this time of day; all warm and golden. She hoped she'd get home later just before the sun turned to its usual setting; blistering, bright, and glaring.

She didn't feel like going to the library today. Her routine with Hyunjin wasn't definite; sometimes she would sit down at the usual table and he'd already be there, or he'd come in a few moments later, setting down his belongings and scooting his chair a little closer.

Today, he wasn't there.

Y/n was beginning to feel a little braver in not going to the library during all of her breaktimes. It still felt strange to wander around the hallways, hands in her pockets, but it somehow felt more appealing than spending another forty minutes in the dim bookshelf corner by herself, like she used to.

She felt a little guilty for some reason; the library had sort of been her home for most of the year, and now that she wasn't showing up there as often, she worried the place might lose some of its charm.

Pondering this as she passed by the lower levels of the school, her thoughts were sidetracked by the faint sound of thumping basketballs and squeaking shoes.

That's right, she remembered. Hyunjin is practicing today.

Peeking inside, she noticed first the brilliant sunlight streaming in from the high rafter windows, reflecting off the walls and casting a lovely, warm glow across the polished court floor. She noticed Hyunjin's smile emitting the same radiance.

She spotted Jisung and Felix with him too, the three boys the only occupiers of the space. They were tossing a basketball between them. Jisung's tie was undone, his shirt untucked, and so was Hyunjin's. Both boys were missing their sweater vests. Only Felix was wearing his, though it was slipping off his left shoulder as he tossed the basketball back to Jisung.

The boys weaving their way down the court with such precision and fluidity that Y/n could do nothing but watch. She stood, transfixed, hands pressed against the wall, fingers gripping the threshold.

They were amazingly, breathtakingly good.

Y/n watched as Jisung took a shot, but he was too far away to make it. The ball rebounded off the hoop backboard, sailing through the air, and rolling to a stop near the door, right near Y/n's feet.

She peeked through the gap in the double doors before timidly stepping into the gym and picking the ball up. It felt textured and unusually heavy in her hands.

Felix waved a hand at her, grinning ear to ear. Jisung let out a happy shout and Hyunjin smiled.

"Yah, Y/n!" Jisung shouted at her, beaming almost as bright as the sunlight filtering into the gym. "Pass it back!"

Y/n blinked at him, then back down at the ball, feeling awkward and unsure. She tilted her head at him, confused. She glanced at the ball again. Did he want her to throw the ball to him?

"Yeah, come on, throw the ball back!" Felix called kindly, clearly sensing her uncertainness. He held his hands out.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n mustered her strength and tossed the ball back, her wrists flicking out. It was a short throw, much to her embarrassment, and Felix jogged forward, catching the ball effortlessly, seemingly not minding.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

Felix smiled at her kindly. "It's okay. Throwing takes some time to get right. You need conditioning."

Jisung jogged up too. Peeking behind him, Y/n felt a pang of disappointment as she saw Hyunjin walking away, moving to his bag that was shoved up against the far wall next to his friends' bags. Maybe he was upset with her for some reason... or maybe it was because of how she'd mistakenly held his hand during class earlier.

"Did you wanna play?" Jisung asked her eagerly. Felix looked at her expectantly, and Y/n took a step back, not wanting to make herself look stupid in front of these stupidly talented players.

"No, I'm okay-"

"Nope! Come on," Jisung took her upper arm and marched her to the middle of the court. Y/n weakly protested, Felix pushing the ball gently into her hands as Jisung positioned her right before the hoop.

"I don't think you have a choice," Felix whispered to her apologetically before smiling cheekily. "We could do with the teaching practice. It'll be fun."

Y/n sighed as Jisung stood several metres away from her, holding out his hands with a cheeky grin.

"So, you push the ball forward and then flick your wrists out," Felix stood beside her, making gestures with his wrists.

"Like this?" she copied his motion, tossing the ball about half a metre.

Felix nodded. "Yep! Then put some force into it."

Y/n glanced at Jisung before doing as Felix said. The ball flew in a perfect arc and Jisung caught it easily, cheering. Hyunjin watched with an amused smile from the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Felix clapped her gently on the back.

"Now you just gotta do that while dribbling. You know how?"

Y/n nodded. Hyunjin had regaled her with training tactics and basketball tricks during their library sessions, so she knew how.

In theory.

Fifteen minutes later, Y/n let the ball fly from her hands, tossing it to Jisung. It made sense now, and the feeling of the basketball's textured material felt natural and familiar under her palms. She liked the thumping sound the ball made as it hit the court, again and again and again.

She felt slightly sweaty, but exhilarated. She understood why the boys always seemed so alive whenever they played. There was something exciting about being on constant alert for the ball, catching it and passing it, and feeling the anticipation hanging in the air as the ball skimmed the hoop before dropping inside with a soft whoosh.

They'd been playing what was called 'two-on-two' for around fifteen minutes. Felix and Hyunjin were on one team, Jisung and Y/n on the other. Felix had proposed they flip a coin to decide the teams, but Jisung had seized her arm as soon as the words had left Felix's mouth with a frenzied, eager shout. That had settled it.

Y/n felt tired and her arms were beginning to ache, but it was the satisfied kind of ache that comes from doing something you enjoy. Grinning at Jisung as he shot a hoop, she moved to sit down, attempting to catch her breath.

She felt so free. Like a bird that had lived its whole life in captivity, the cage door had unlocked and she was allowed to soar through the sky, no limits, no rules. Just her wings airing her up against the current. She wondered if the boys felt the same way.

Felix flopped down next to her, and Y/n panicked briefly. Had Hyunjin told him and Jisung about what happened with the note in class? She subtly pressed a hand to her blazer pocket, where she'd tucked the note inside it. She glanced at Felix, but his eyes were trained on the court, where Hyunjin was currently dribbling down the side, trying to stop Jisung from taking it from him.

"Hey," he panted.

"Hi."

Felix grinned at her, sweaty and gasping. "You're not bad at basketball, you know? Pretty good for a first try."

Y/n flushed at the praise. Coming from someone as talented as Felix, that meant the world. And it felt genuine. She tried convincing herself that maybe he was just saying it to make her feel better about her awful skills but the thoughts wouldn't come, and somehow she refused to believe it. The thought made her smile, a hand coming up out of habit to cover her mouth.

"Thanks."

Felix batted her hand away. "Don't cover your smile."

"W-what?"

"Don't cover your smile," he repeated. "It's nice."

Y/n was sure her face was scarlet by now, but she appreciated his gentle honesty nonetheless. She lowered her hand.

"There you go," Felix grinned. "Just like the sun."

Y/n huffed a little, shy laugh and looked away, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Fortunately, it didn't last long, because she was disturbed by a shout from the court.

Hyunjin was on the floor, Jisung straddling his waist. Both of them had their arms wrapped around the basketball, tussling for ownership amidst accused shouts and loud whines.

Felix slumped back against the wall, rolling his eyes. "This happens every single practice."

Y/n chuckled. "Must get old, huh?"

Felix smiled. "Nah. It's a bit irritating sometimes, for sure, but they're my best friends, so I don't mind that much. And it's funny, to be honest."

Y/n glanced across the court just as the ball slipped from Hyunjin's grip, rolling away. Jisung let out a shout and scrambled for it just as Hyunjin did. There was a brief kerfuffle.

She chuckled. It was funny.

The bell rang.

*texting unknown number* y/n: hello? y/n: is this hyunjin? unknown number: oh hey! unknown number: i was worried you'd forgotten about me haha y/n: no, i just had tutoring after school so i didn't get time. sorry... y/n: but i have time now unknown number: oh, cool, all good unknown number: hey, so do me a favour y/n: ? unknown number: change my contact number to something really cool and awesome

Y/n chuckled and sat upright on her bed, letting her phone rest on top of the duvet as she thought hard. The sky outside was fading, streaking cotton candy across the clouds and melting into a deep shade of ocean blue to the left.

An idea popped into her head and she picked her phone up, clicking on the contact and editing the name.

*y/n changed 'unknown number' to 'hyunjinnie 🏀'*

y/n: i changed it hyunjinnie 🏀: alright, cool hyunjinnie 🏀 i like it :D y/n: well now you have to change mine so it's even hyunjinnie 🏀: hmmm hyunjinnie 🏀: let's see *hyunjinnie 🏀 changed 'y/n' to 'y/n 🌸💫'* hyunjinnie 🏀: there. how's that? y/n 🌸💫: a flower and a star? hyunjinnie 🏀: yeah, because i saw you doodling flowers in your book earlier during class hyunjinnie 🏀: and you always draw a star next to your name whenever we get worksheets

Y/n blinked at his message. He was right. She was doodling flowers earlier and she did always draw a star next to her name when she received class work. Flushing at his keen observation, she typed out a reply.

y/n 🌸💫: i like it hyunjinnie 🏀: i'm glad hyunjinnie 🏀: aren't i so smart? y/n 🌸💫: whatever makes you feel better hyunjinnie 🏀: ouch, okay hyunjinnie 🏀: fine, i see how it is... i thought you were my FRIEND

Y/n laughed and set her phone aside, momentarily getting up to open the window, since it was getting dark. It had been hot lately, humid and temperate, and Y/n wanted all the cold air she could get, even if that meant letting in some unwelcome insect visitors. Her fan was broken, so she had to make do.

Flopping back down on the bed, she picked up her phone, smiling cheekily.

* y/n 🌸💫 changed 'hyunjinnie 🏀' to 'drama king 🏀'* y/n 🌸💫: there y/n 🌸💫: now it's perfect

On the other side of the line, Hyunjin chuckled and shook his head. He brushed a strand of dark hair from his face and rolled to his side, resting his phone on the pillow and propping it up. He typed out a reply.

drama king 🏀: very creative. speaking of, it was nice having you playing basketball with us at lunchtime y/n 🌸💫: yeah, it was fun y/n 🌸💫: you guys are so unbelievably talented drama king 🏀: you're talented too, i've never seen anyone who can sketch like you can y/n 🌸💫: thanks, hyunjinnie drama king 🏀: maybe you could show me during class drama king 🏀: i mean, i do sit across from you drama king 🏀: so

Hyunjin bit his lip. Would it be weird if he asked her over text? Would she forget by the time she actually walked into class? Why was he so nervous? She was his friend, so why did his heart race faster at the thought of spending so much time next to her? Nothing had happened when they were both alone at the library.

So why did it feel so different?

He let out a soft groan, vying with his rationality.

Fuck it, he thought, eyes fixed on the screen as he typed out a message.

drama king 🏀: did you wanna sit together next class?

He waited anxiously for a response. How long had it been? Two minutes? Two hours? Why wasn't she replying?

Gritting his teeth, he chucked his phone onto the bedside. She'd just denied him and now he felt like an idiot. He went too far and now she might hate him for all eternity. Hyunjin felt somehow winded, like the one time he fell over during a tournament game and one of his opponents stepped on his middle for good measure.

Rolling his eyes at the memory, Hyunjin swung his legs up, pressing a hand to the firm, flat expanse of his stomach. He'd just have to explain himself to her the next day. The thought of having to see her disapproving glare at his clingy offer made him feel surprisingly disconsolate.

He laid back down and tried to occupy his mind, attempting to forget about the blameworthy device resting on the bedside table. Failing miserably, he huffed and swiped a hand across the table, sending his phone skidding under his bed with a thud.

He'd just try and forget about it for the time being.

A distant ting made him shoot bolt upright. His head spun and he pressed a hand to his forehead, hissing, before frantically checking the floor for his phone.

Dropping to his stomach on the floor, he scrabbled around under his bed and tried to reach his phone. His fingers brushed the device and he stretched, grabbing it with a sigh of exertion. Forgetting half his torso was stretched out under the solid wooden bedframe, he made to get up, hitting his head solidly on the wooden slats.

Hyunjin groaned, wincing, and opened his phone, shuffling out from the dark, enclosed space. Climbing onto the bed again, he opened the message bar and swiped into the chat.

y/n 🌸💫: sorry, the wifi's been cutting out here a lot so i couldn't reply straight away y/n 🌸💫: but if you want to sit together during class next time... y/n 🌸💫: sure

Hyunjin collapsed into the pillows with a sigh of relief.

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[world-smitten]

just finished Arcane season 2 & how could something be so good, and yet so bad? Felt like a yoyo because the writers clearly knew what they were doing, but they wouldn't have been able to take the wild swings they did without Fortiche's production strength. If s1 got around its 9 episode limitations by being lean, spare and hyper-focused, s2 goes wildly in the other direction, a maximalist "bang-for-your-buck" approach that clearly favours the animation. Like Riot always knew that Fortiche was their trump card but i dont think even they could predict how quickly and massively beloved the studio's house style would be. So the plot feels like it's structured both to set up future shows, but also to give Fortiche every single opportunity to flex their skills. Its a season that's intensely cinematic and layered in the ways it visually conveys the external action and the internal psychology of its characters. But this maximalist approach to animation is something im getting slightly tired of - post spiderverse fatigue i guess (to put it simply). But the production isnt as insufferable as ATSV was, partly because all of the characters are a stronger emsemble, but also because the operatic multiverses, timelines etc all feel like a shell to hold the characters vast feelings about themselves & each other. Like the mechanics of time travel are meant to hold Ekko's twin loves of Zaun & Jinx; even the worldending Arcane mumbo jumbo is meant to express Jayce & Viktor's love of each other, of these two men going on a journey of discovery and work together, and where that journey ends.

the problem with the high-concept, big-feeling approach is that it blows away everything that s1 worked towards - namely that this conflict was about two sisters, and two cities. Zaun becomes a passenger to the story. So much gets picked up & left behind. The deep foundation that s1 set up gets built on in patchwork, and very few characters feel like they're written to their full potential. I also think that making Viktor the final boss was frankly ridiculous - why should his journey to heal himself lead him to such a hyperbolic end? Jayce's speech about why Viktor was fine the way he was would be great in any other context - in this context, it neatly sidesteps that there were structural reasons for Viktor's illness. But ofc, when your writing barrels towards the abstract, all kinds of structural, tangible world-building gets left behind.

Much to love (Ambessa, Mel & Ekko's storylines, even Jinx's kinda worked) - and i'll forever love this show for writing black characters that fully take part in the politics and magic of their world. But boyyyy what a crazy rollercoaster. The only consistent act was act 1, and then act 2 & 3 were ping-pong in terms of quality. Eps 4 & 7 were soo beautiful, but what followed them - yikes 😬. Those godawful "music" videos at the start of each ep (so glad they dropped that gimmick in act 3!) & I'm still not over how jarring that Vander flashback w/ Silco & Felicia was. Like wtf.

[ruporas]

special operatives (silly interaction beneath read more)

[ID: Digital Art in color of Trigun Maximum, characters included are Wolfwood, Elendira, and Legato in a casual meeting situation. The piece consists of orangey yellow lighting and purple shadows. Wolfwood sits on the left side, facing Elendira who’s on the right. He’s seated on a plain wooden chair with one knee up and he’s holding the strap to his Punisher in his left hand while his right sits against his thigh, He has an irritated expression as he speaks to Elendira. Elendira is sitting in a fancier seat, her right arm rests against Wolfwood’s propped up knee, her left hand holds her suitcase. She’s sitting cross legged with an amused expression. Legato can be seen in the back at the center of the image in his mobile body case, one of his eyes shown to be glaring at Wolfwood. End ID]

[ID: Sketch, uncolored comic. Elendira says to Wolfwood, “I’m not telling you to dedicate yourself to him, but just accept the situation at hand. We could get along better if we were on the same page.” Wolfwood responds, “Don’t peg me me for an optimist. I’m not dumb. But, I’m also not going to just live in resignation. Plus, I don’t have any interest in getting along with ya.” Elendira coos, “Aw, you sure? I have a wonderful shoulder to cry on when the weak people you’re trying to protect eventually dies in the coming months. Though, I guess it’s fine. Someone like you might just die before then anyway...” She snickers in her hand while Wolfwood is speechless and just glares. Legato is faintly drawn in the back, glaring at Wolfwood, muttering “worthless” repetitively. End ID]