#because i disagree with her so much but also understand where that line of thinking stems from

[curtins]

DITTO — Gojo Satoru a rewrite of this post.

prologue. → brave, lucky, courageous. these are the words that people bestow upon you when the dust has cleared, and the king of curses is no more. you disagree, for if you were lucky, gojo satoru would still be standing at your side. instead you've been left to stare at the ocean shoreline on your own, without your best friend (the love of your life) by your side.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. unfulfilled/unresolved love. angst, hurt, comfort, fluff. your usual shenanigans. sfw! implied, minor satosugu (mb because geto is my beautiful sad princess and i love him so he has to be a part of everything). pining, idiots in love. grief, and what you do after you've lost what you treasure the most etc u get it. reader is from an unnamed clan, has a younger brother. reader also wears skirts, dresses sometimes, character death + injury

word count. 11k! 😭 song inspiration. ditto — newjeans / 뉴진스 (2022) a/n. i wrote rough headcanons and posted them yesterday but i woke up thinking dang i should actually write something better about that lmao. update: i thought i'd finish this in a few hours, why did this take me like 2 days? update #2: dawg this is long as fuck...this kinda depressed me to write

mp3. do you think about me now, yeah. all the time...

✉️ — 1995. 💬 — gojo.

these meeting rooms were hushed, grand, and the kind of place that simply swallowed up any sound and echo; where the wood-panelled walls were lined with the tapestries and polished symbols of his clan.

and in the hush, gojo had sat cross-legged on the tatami mat, trying to listen to the conversation of the adults, with their low and steady voices that droned on. this was so boring. they were always speaking of things that he just couldn't understand, but his parents said these meetings were important, and so he was dragged along - much to his eternal chagrin. still, he shifted in place, glancing around at the detailed screens painting around the corners of the room, in varying shades of blue.

across the room, there was another kid. one who sat beside her father, fidgeting just as he was. and gojo could tell by the way that you kept glancing towards the door that you, too, longed to escape. your gaze caught his, and there was that flicker of mutual boredom that sparked between you two. you had scrunched up her nose, as if to say 'this is so boring, isn't it?'

gojo grinned, stifling a giggle. he had leaned back, just a little, surveying the adults who paid no heed to him, before letting himself inch across the rough texture of the mat towards the door.

"do you want to see the garden?" he mouthed silently, his words exaggerated and slow, so you would understand.

your eyes had lit up, and you nodded, just as your father (well, he assumed it was her father) leaned down to whisper something in your ear, his voice a low rumble that was far too quiet for gojo to catch. you were nodding obediently, but your eyes were now fixed with the glimmer of excitement, and he quickly held the door open for you as you scrambled out the door, following him quietly as they creaked down the long hallway.

and soon, they reached the back of the estate, where the garden stretched out like a hidden oasis, filled with the flowering bushes, the winding stone paths, and the pond that glistened in the morning light. suddenly, he stopped by the edge of the pond, brushing pale hair out of his stinging eyes, "i'm satoru, by the way."

you had sat down quickly, as though the long walk had winded her (gojo had barely needed to stop to catch is breath), and your robes dipped into the pond, letting the water seep up slowly, "i've heard of you. my parents say you're an only child."

gojo shrugged, trying to think of something important he could tell you, "it's not so bad. one day, i'm going to be the head of my clan," puffing up his chest a little.

you had nodded, "i would like to be too, but my younger brother would get it. because...you know."

gojo didn't quite know but he nodded like he understood, and he tried to think of something smarter to say, "well the job isn't that fun anyway. it's just sitting around reading papers, and telling people what to do."

you had pouted, frowning, "i want to tell people what to do all day. and i would get the nicest robes too as clan head."

and you had looked so unhappy at the prospect that you were being robbed of a stellar wardrobe that gojo made up his mind, right then and there, "tell you what, when i become my clan head, i'll make sure you get the nicest robes, how's that?"

your face had lit up, holding your little pinky up to his, "promise?"

gojo linked his finger with hers, sealing this silly vow and laughing, "why not?"

✉️ — 1996. 💬 — you.

when you're seven years old, you’ve resigned yourself to trailing behind gojo, watching as your friend takes on the world with the same reckless, eager energy that he seems to pour into everything that he does.

his voice has picked up a confidence that you haven't felt yet, and there's a permanent, flashy grin on his face that says he doesn't care what anyone thinks about him, not his parents, nor his clan.

and today, gojo's decided that the old shrine on the edge of your family estate needs exploring. you're a little less certain, especially since your father had told you that this shrine was haunted, but you find yourself following the boy anyway, and there's that silent agreement in place: he leads, you follow. you're alright with that, that's just the way it's always been.

he's dressed, as usual, in a loose grey hoodie that's two sizes too big for him, and his jeans have a hole in the knee; some small rebellion against his clan's strict sense of tradition. even his hair is awfully emssy, tousled and getting a little too long, and you know he hates it when his mother tries to comb it down, and you easily suspect that gojo just ruffles it on purpose to get a reaction out of those around him. he probably does everything on purpose for a round of reactions, honestly.

you, on the other hand, have your nicest lilac skirt on, and there's a small bow in your hair that the maidservants had pinned themselves (your mother had been too deep in her cups all morning). but you had fluttered around, feeling quite pretty in your skirt; like you were a fairy that would sprout wings and live in the clouds.

gojo glances back at you, and rolls his eyes, "you know, you look like you're going to one of the clan meetings," he mutters, but there's a playful glint in his eye. he's pulled a twig from the ground, and he's waving it around like a sword, slicing through imaginary enemies as he marches forward like an idiot.

you just shrug, quietly watching him cut through the tall grass ahead, "i like looking nice," you mumble, a little embarrassed. you can feel the careful way the sweet, old servant (she turned seventy last week!) had arranged your hair, and the press of the bow keeping it every lock in place.

"well, if you ever decide to look like you're not on your way to sit for a court painting, let me know," gojo says, smirking (he thinks he's funny) as he waves his 'sword' around, battling on the false frontlines.

but despite yourself, you laugh, and quicken your pace to keep up with him, and so, gojo slows just a bit, enough that you're walking side by side now, and his arm brushes against yours.

"did you know that they say that this shrine is spooked?" he asks, his voice falling to a dramatic whisper.

"i live here, satoru. obviously, duh," and the shrine comes into view, and it's small, weathered with age, but to you, it looks grand and mysterious, even magical, "do you believe it's haunted?"

gojo shrugs, unfazed, "nah, probably just an old rock. but it would be cool if it was. maybe, we'll see a ghost."

now you've taken a hesitant step back, but gojo just grins, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward, and his hand is warm and steady in yours.

"c'mon, don't be a chicken," he teases, laughing as he drags you closer, and you plant your feet firmly in the ground, watching as clouds begin to roll over the sky, ominous and gloomy.

oh, this place is definitely haunted. your father was right, it's so over for you now. a massive, ugly curse is going to pop out and eat you alive, and steal your pretty hair bow. you mutter a small prayer under your breath. gojo satoru, you will pay for this.

✉️ — 2000. 💬 — you.

you'd always heard whispers about yourself from the other kids, how you were too quiet, or you tried far too hard to be perfect — unwilling to roughhouse the way they did. perhaps they were right, and it was true that you preferred to sit alone. you think it was the feeling of order you enjoyed, of a world you could control, even if it was just through lines on a piece of paper.

but today, their voices were louder than usual. a small group had gathered near the cherry blossom tree where you'd settle yourself, and they circled around like hungry wolves sniffing out something they could tear apart.

one girl wrinkled her nose and called you prissy (well, okay) and another boy had snickered and muttered that you were so boring, and it was a wonder that you even had a friend like gojo.

ouch.

their words felt like small, precise cuts, sharper than expected. you had heard these things before. after all, everyone had reached the age where they were aware of their abilities, their techniques as jujutsu sorcerers.

you didn't mind your own technique, making sure to channel time and energy to learn so you could grow up and be as good as your father one day (a well established sorcerer in his own right, if a bit out of shape).

but you didn't have to be very smart to know that gojo's abilities stood out entirely in a different way, and you heard your parents whisper in hushed tones at how lucky his clan was to have a child like that. with the right training and moulding, he could be the most powerful man to walk the earth.

how silly. gojo was all laughs, and smiles, and stupid jokes and bright, clever eyes. you thought it was dumb how they all spoke about an eleven year old boy like he was a weapon, kept in its sheath until it was ready to be drawn.

but of course, all the kids wanted to be friends with him instead. and today, these barbs hurt more — and you kept your eyes down, clutching your books a bit tighter, willing for these supposed 'friends' of yours to go away.

but before you could say anything, you heard his stomps.

"hey!"

gojo's voice was unmistakable, sharp and sudden as he clamoured over, all brashness and bravado. he had gotten a bad haircut recently (entirely his own fault for thinking he could put scissors to his own hair, but you had laughed so hard as he swore curses) so white tufts stuck out all over his head, making him look like he got stuck in a wall socket, even crazier than usual.

but gojo didn't look at you, just planted himself between you and the group, bruised fists clenched (they trained him too hard), and shoulders set, "what's your problem?"

the other kids stammered, clearly surprised, but that didn't stop him, he who looked like a small, lanky and angry polar bear.

"you think you're so funny? talking like that? say it again, and i'll knock your teeth out."

"ah, satoru -" you ran your tongue behind your teeth, the last thing everyone needed was another fight of bruised pride, and yanked hair, rolling around in the dust.

but one of the boys had muttered something under his breath, taking a half-step back. the others followed, shuffling, rolling their eyes and looking anywhere but at you and gojo.

and your best friend didn't move until they had scattered completely, leaving behind only the faint echos of their derision as they fled. and then he turned to you, his scowl fading into something kinder (good, you didn't like seeing him so upset) as he dropped onto the bench, beside you, pulling his knee up onto the bench so he could rest his chin against it casually.

"they're just idiots," he said, rolling his eyes, and his voice was softer, playful again, "don't listen to them."

you gave him a small smile, nodding, as the knot in chest loosened a little, "i wasn't really listening to them," you murmured, even though you probably knew that was a bold-faced lie.

gojo released a loud laugh, much too loud and forced, as he nudged you with his elbow, and he must have known it too, but he was smiling, "good, that's the spirit."

You managed a small smile, nodding, the knot in your chest loosening a little.

the world was quiet again as you both sat in silence, the soft breeze ruffling the grass and the cherry blossoms overhead. and then, with a shyer glance, you managed to look over at your friend, watching as messy tufts of his snowy hair moved ever so slightly in the breeze.

"thanks, 'toru," you said, quietly, but he just shrugged it off, brushing it away as though it was nothing.

"hey, what am i here for?"

✉️ — 2003. 💬 — you.

gojo was sprawled across your wide bed, looking at you as if you were the most ridiculous person in the entire world. his own suitcase sat beside him, already paced with the very few things he needed, and now he watched you with that eager, restless gleam in his blue eyes, like he could barely sit still.

"you're so overthinking this," he said, bright voice full of impatience, "just throw some stuff in a bag, and we're good to go. it's just tokyo, not the end of the world."

you scowled at the boy, holding up two sweaters; one sensible in a shade of pale blue, and the other thick, deep red and woollen, "but what if it gets cold? or rains?"

gojo rolled his eyes, throwing his head back dramatically onto your pillow, hands behind his head as he sprawled around like a snooty prince with all the time in the world.

"it's summer, it's tokyo, and it's not like we're moving to america," he smiled, "besides, if you pack any slower, we'll miss our first year."

you tried to brush it off, and something about his easy confidence made you feel a sharp twinge of nerve. this was really happening, you were truly leaving the bounds of your family estates, stepping out into the world, to attend jujutsu tech, a school in tokyo that you had heard so much about. well, there was another school here, in kyoto, but god, it would just be nice to get out of these ancient walls.

and yet -

gojo simply looked like he couldn't wait to shake the dust of his home off his sneakers, you felt something pull at you, like a sudden-appearing string that tied you to your home city, and it wouldn't let you go.

your best friend had caught the look on your face, and softened — just a bit, as he twiddled with a brand new pair of sunglasses, and he sat up closer, watching you carefully, "you're really going to miss it here, aren't you?"

and you shrugged, fidgeting with the sleeves of the red sweater, "i don't know. maybe, i suppose. don't you feel that way at all, satoru?"

he shook his head, resolute, "not even a little," but he saw your uncertainty, "listen, you'll be fine. you'll love tokyo. and hey," he nudged you gently with his knee, "i'll be right there with you anyway."

you appreciated that his confidence felt like a promise, something that you could at least hold onto, even in the big capital, and with a big, exaggerated sigh you tossed both sweaters into the suitcase.

"finally!"

✉️ — 2003. 💬 — gojo.

the both of you had arrived, bright-eyed and tired, as he clambered off the tall bus that had parked on the outskirts of tokyo, where jujutsu high was located.

gojo stood beside you, hands stuffed in his denim pockets, plastering a disinterested expression on his face. but he couldn't help how his eyes flittered to the sid,e underneath the dark shades of his glasses, watching you fawn over another new student, another boy who had arrived from some small town, who-knows-where, from a non-sorcerer family.

geto suguru.

well it was no lie that gojo liked him a lot too. there was no denying that he seemed polite, clever, maybe a bit shy. and effortlessly cool.

gojo had grown up in the stifling, grand estates of the big clans, constantly fussed over, and robed in fine silks printed with his clan motifs. all of those stuffy rules would sit, push around and make space in one's head, like a constant mantra from the elders.

he didn't need to look at you too closely to see what was going on, and he could tell right away, just from how you reacted. your smile stretched wider, and your eyes lit up like you were meeting someone who you really wanted to talk to.

geto who hadn't even changed into his uniform yet, with his stray strands of dark hair falling out of the knot on the back of his head, looking politely aloof, but cheerful, in worn black jeans and converse, and some baggy band t-shirt that would get gojo scolded by his mother for even wearing that inside the estate.

gojo noticed everything, especially the way your fingers slipped up to tuck your hair behind your ear when geto grinned at you (all because you’d recognised the band on his t-shirt, so what?) he saw how your eyes brightened, like geto suguru had unlocked some hidden code only you could decipher.

it annoyed him to realise that geto's calm, quiet charm was exactly the kind of thing you’d be drawn to. that’s what you liked, wasn’t it? the understated, thoughtful types who let the world come to them. not the loudmouth who cracked jokes at every opportunity, hoping to pull a laugh from his best friend.

well, fuck, he had to be a part of this too now.

✉️ — 2005. 💬 — both.

gojo's new obsession had a sleek, silver body and an olympus logo stamped on it in black, a camera that he'd been itching to buy; refusing to settle for anything less than the latest model. suddenly, he was determined to capture tokyo through his own eyes, and you and your friends had quickly become his reluctant muses on an impromptu day trip to the ameya-yokocho market.

"stop! stay right there, don't move! fuck, no! a little to the left!"

he waved his hands around, motioning for everyone to gather just as he wanted. you all exchanged amused glances, with shoko huffing around dramatically, as gojo crouched down on his long legs, then stood back up, and then crouched down again, as one of jujutsu high's most powerful sorcerers struggled to bring a camera into focus.

eventually, geto had laughed — raven hair falling over his beautiful face, and had gotten up to help gojo, fiddling with the lens as the rest of you milled around.

and then, suddenly gojo turned the camera directly on you. he pointed his finger your way, wide grin half-hidden but unmistakably earnest, 'c'mon, turn that frown upside down!'

he needn't have said a word, just seeing your best friend there, with his hair tousled and carefree grin, with the camera strap hanging off his neck, was enough to make you laugh, the kind that felt as bright as it sounded.

and so, you found yourself standing in the middle of the bustling market street, surrounded by friends and fellow students, and the lively hum of the weekend crowds, as you looked directly into the lens, with your smile softening under his gaze, as though the rest of the world had blurred into the background.

afterwards, gojo had taken a good look at the photo, and he didn't say much, but the look on his face lingered, almost like he was seeing something that he wasn't sure he was allowed to hold onto. you had shyly asked him later, coming up beside his shoulder, whether he had printed a spare copy of the photo, but he shook his head with the lie rolling off his tongue.

love was a selfish endeavour, to its core. he wasn’t about to tell you that he wanted to keep that photo for himself. and later, when no-one was looking, he slipped the small print into his wallet, right between his train pass and some spare change.

✉️ — 2006. 💬 — you.

your best friend, your dear satoru, had always been resilient; the kind of guy who threw himself at life with reckless energy, shrugging off injuries like they were just a part of the ride. he'd laugh off a scraped knee or a bloodied lip, flashing that cocky grin and a shrug as if pain was something for other people.

life for you went on, with your own routines and small moments. you learnt long ago that you didn't quite possess the natural, raw sheer jujutsu power that gojo had (or geto for that matter) but you could certainly hold your own in a scuffle. regardless, you had chosen to turn to academics, flitting between classes and study sessions, arm in arm with sweet shoko.

there was joy in sneaking off campus with friends, or scrolling through lists of new albums to download onto your mp3 player (you had been partial to the south korean boyband, tvxq!).

and so, life seemed both incredibly mundane and slightly electric, with days marked by shy smiles and inside jokes, with walks home on the streets wet from the spring rain.

but it had been late summer when gojo had returned from that last mission, when the days were still long and hot and the afternoons were bathed in a thick, heavy amber. and he had come back...different.

he moved carefully, as though each step was suspicious and took more effort than he'd let on, and his usual bright glimmer was dimmed, his laughter quiet, and his smiles withheld like a rare currency. he'd sit through the long evenings with you, in silence more often than not, hands stuffed into his wide pockets as he stared at a place that you just couldn't reach.

when you'd catch him alone in the courtyard after class, he'd be training hard, working through his cursed techniques with a relentless focus, perfecting each hand gesture as if he could shake off whatever shadow lingered behind him. and sometimes, he'd stay for hours after school, practicing beneath the dying and dusty light of the last days of summer, as if he could not afford to stop, to rest.

“gojo?” you called, hesitating as he finished a strike to some poor unsuspecting pile of soda cans, leaving them obliterated in the heat. “what's going on with you?”

he paused mid-motion, glancing at you, his face carefully blank. and you hated that, you hated how the flicker of distress would pass from his face before being schooled into that carefully constructed mask of 'the strongest.'

i love you, idiot. i love you, i love you, tell me what's bothering you and i will help, you're my best friend.

but these words never saw the light of day, always curling up and choking up in your throat, and instead being twisted into feigned, casual interest. losing the cloak of deep devotion that you held for a friend of ten years.

"oh - hey! nothing," gojo replied, too quickly, with that half-cocked smile that painted over his pink lips, "nothing that deep."

lately, this repeated lie had been hanging in the air between you, clear as the last streaks of summer sunlight that would soon give way to fall.

you crossed your arms over your uniform, dark fabric crinkling, "you're not fooling anyone, you know. geto told me about the mission, he said that you —," you swallowed, with the words just as heavy as the steadfast beat of your heart that you kept under lock and key, "he said you shouldn't have come back. what does that even mean?"

gojo's face flickered again, just for a second, before he barked out that irritating, false chuckle, "guess it's a good thing you weren't sent on tengen's fuckin' mission then," before reaching out and snatching your strawberry milk carton from your hands with a grin.

after a few punctuated slurps and lip-smacking (just to watch your face redden in fury, gojo would admit) he spoke again, voice strained, "you'd probably be crying about it still."

"hey!" you protested, grabbing for the carton again, prying his slender fingers off your sweet treat, "i don't cry that easily."

"could've fooled me. you cried during that american movie about zoo animals."

"madagascar was a sad movie about displacement and the loss of home! i know animal rights activists hate to see your ass coming to the zoo."

gojo snickered, drawing out the words, "fuck that zebra," but now, he was looking off into the golden haze of a beautiful sunset, with that frayed grin, "seriously, though. it's fine, it's all in the past."

over time, gojo never spoke many a word about what happened to the star plasma vessel, but he just seemed to move forward, like he always had. his resolve somehow sharper, tighter, and his laughter more intense when it finally did return. there were moments when you'd catch him staring into the great expanse of nothing, haunted (but beautiful), though he'd just shrug and smile when you prodded him about.

✉️ — 2007. 💬 — gojo.

gojo thought he was astoundingly self-aware, in his own humble opinion. he never let anything get to him, that was the trick, you see. to take life as it came at you, to carry that fire and stubbornness and throw it back in the face of the trouble.

and so he wanted to be angry, to be furious. why had suguru done this? why?

he had known that geto, one of his dearest friends (one who always been so sure of himself) had fallen into disquiet lately, and even gojo had prodded him on whether he had lost weight through sleepless nights. but suguru would have just turned his head back to his book, lost in thought, with his dark hair loose around his face.

had he been blind? how had suguru's silence been covered by what gojo (privately) considered his own loud, defiant return? no, he knew of ghosts. he knew that some spirits and spectres could not be shaken, and sometimes when gojo himself closed his eyes, he could feel the sharp sting of an assassin's blade ramming through his throat, leaving him for dead.

but to murder over a hundred innocent people...

you had found him alone that evening, where he had sprawled over the stairs as the sunset blazed, painting them aglow in dusky hues. but gojo could barely notice any of this beauty, and so he just stared, lost in his thoughts that wouldn't settle.

(are you the strongest because you're satoru gojo? or are you satoru gojo because you're the strongest?)

he didn't hear you approach, until you placed a gentle hand on his shoulders, causing him to flinch, surprised out of his sorrowful reverie.

the warmth of your touch steadied him, and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and he wondered how you could always seem to know exactly when he needed you most.

but the thought twisted, sharp and bitter, for what if you would follow suguru the same way? had you not often looked at geto with light in your eyes? and you had never looked at him like that.

what if, someday, you left him the same way? what if you turned around and saw someone else worth following? he couldn't help his fists from clenching, tension rippling down his shoulders and painfully gripping his head.

"suguru..." his voice came out quieter than he meant, with a crack that he couldn't quite hide, and he heard you sharply inhale, "i can't believe he's gone. i don't know if...if i'll ever see him again. why would he -?"

you still didn't say anything, just tightening your hand on his shoulder. and satoru hated it. hated that he wanted to lean into the weight of your touch, hated that this is what being the strongest now entailed. that now he was plagued by fear, of losing you, of watching you slip through his fingers into another's orbit.

i'm only seventeen. what happened to my youth?

the thoughts are acidic, cynical and they leave him angry (with the world, with the higher ups, with himself, with his parents) and he can't help himself from blurting out the next question.

"did you like him?"

gojo tries to keep his tone light and casual, but he loathes how he sounds pleading, heavier. he feels the embarrassment of vulnerability shroud him as you meet his eyes, and he hates how your eyes are teary too.

you shouldn't cry. ever.

"like? as in like?"

"as in love," gojo mutters, "shoko said you did."

you sniff, and now your head is leaning on his shoulder and he can inhale the scent of your shampoo (apples? caramel?) and despite the crick in his neck, he lowers his shoulder further down so you are more comfortable.

"shoko talks too much sometimes," you laugh weakly, "but probably. i think i did."

gojo tries to tamper down the acrid lurch in his stomach, but you continue, "i think i did love him. but so did shoko. so did nanami, and haibara back when, -" you sigh, "and so did you. we all loved him. he was our friend."

his fingers had been hovering close to your hand for a while, almost as if he couldn't help himself, the pull. finally, he slid his smallest finger to let it curl around yours, drawing out a memory from over a decade ago.

"tell you what, when i become my clan head, i'll make sure you get the nicest robes, how's that?" "promise?" "why not?"

how silly that the hardest things in life had once been a bored child, and his new friend who fretted about her future wardrobe.

and when you clasped in hand entirely in its return, gojo's breath caught, his throat tightening. the words that he wanted to say, to spill from his throat, hovered in his mind but there was no infinite word strong enough to bring them out.

he wasn't an idiot, he wasn't daft and unobservant, he knew exactly what he wanted to say to you, to tell you from his lips to yours. but the way his heart laid itself bare in that moment unsettled him deeply, not the yearning itself, but how fierce it was. it disgusted him, the rawness of his desire, exposed right there in the open, where anyone could see it, including you. especially you.

with a realisation that was long coming, beneath the golden wash of the setting sun, he sighed deeply. if he ever lost you, if you ever looked at him with the same betrayal that he'd seen in suguru's eyes, he didn't know if he could survive it. it would cut deeper than his infinity could bear.

he tried speaking again, "if you ever -" but he doesn't get the chance to speak before you're leaning further into him, a quiet sniffle punctuating the silence.

"i won't."

✉️ — the next decade... 💬 — you.

"sweetheart, honey, my precious pumpkin pie."

you shot gojo a death glare, his attempt at flamboyant charm bouncing right off you, "i hate you. never speak to me again."

and your gaze dropped to what was left of your beautiful hermès scarf, once a beautiful concoction of cream-white silk, now reduced to tatters that fluttered pitifully in your hands, stained with some suspicious green goop.

you had cherished this pricey product, but gojo, in his infinite wisdom had decided to pick it up as a perfect blindfold right before a gnarly mission. and so, it got tangled with a nasty curse, and met its tragic, shredded end.

gojo raised his brows, feigning the innocence of a cherub, blinking his long lashes, "i'm sorry, i'll get you a new one, baby."

he drew out the pet name with exaggerated gusto that made you snarl, "enough with the pet names. you are a grown ass man."

and you gave him a first shove in the ribs that made the strongest sorcerer in the world stagger dramatically, only to catch himself with that easy grin still plastered on his face.

but before you could storm off and mourn whatever was left of your one-million yen possession, gojo darted in front of you, blocking your path with his ridiculously long arms. "come on, let me make it up to you, what if i had died on that mission?" he pleaded, looking at you with mock sincerity.

"i wouldn't have even come to the funeral," you sniffed, sticking your nose in the air, ignoring the fake choking sounds that came from the man as he clutched his chest.

months had turned into years, where you and gojo had grown up and graduated jujutsu tech together, carrying triumphs (you won valedictorian, out of a grand total of eight students), losses (gojo was a notoriously bad driver and almost crashed the car that the two of you were in) and countless moments in between.

the two of you had returned to your alma mater as teachers, and mentors, guiding younger sorcerers who were much like you'd once been; eager, impatient, and a little rough around the edges.

gojo took to teaching like he did most things, with his own reckless charm and devil-may-care attitude. he'd joke about skipping staff meetings, but he'd be there anyway, leaning back in his chair with his legs sprawled underneath him, mouthing snarky comments that only you could hear.

you'd like to think you'd grown more confident, no longer the uncertain teenager who used to glance at herself twice in the mirror. time had given you the chance to learn your strengths, and exorcising curses had left you all the more enduring.

gojo had noticed, though he'd never say it outright. he'd make some teasing comment about the way you would boss around a room, and you'd roll your eyes as you nudged him telling him that you had learnt from the biggest ego in tokyo. but sometimes, he'd watch you a little longer than he should, with that flicker in his gaze that he thought you hadn't noticed.

some things hadn't changed at all, and he still came back to you after every mission, every right. you'd hear him shuffling in from down the hall, his paper bags of desserts swinging as he tried to balance it along with his jacket, and whatever ridiculous trinket he'd picked up for you that week (you kept every single one).

and there the two of you would be, sitting cross-legged on your apartment floor, sharing sweets straight out of the boxes. he'd pass you a slice of cheesecake that he insisted that you simply must try, nudging your hand until your fingers enveloped his.

wouldn't it be a lie to claim that you didn't bask in the warmth of your best friend's gaze, even as he feigned interest in some story that he had overhead from the students on his way over from the school, with his low laughter filling the quiet around you.

sometimes, in the silence that would fall after the conversation ebbed, he’d reach over and trace circles absentmindedly on the back of your hand with his thumb, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. neither of you would move or speak. gojo would be looking anywhere but at you, yet his hand wouldn’t let go, tethering you to him in a way that made the apartment feel smaller — almost as if you’d already crossed some line neither of you dared to talk about.

what a pain to be haunted by someone who was already living and breathing right in front of you. sometimes, it left you nauseous, ill, and even screaming into your pillow after he left, and dialing shoko's number so she could give you an earful.

✉️ — october, 2018 💬 — you.

your car idled at the curb, the sounds of the city filtering in through the barely open window, with the faint chill of the october night brushing against your skin.

gojo looked up from his phone, tapping his fingers on the screen, and there was a sober look on his face that made your stomach twist. you watched as he ran his head through his white hair, and sighed, his eyes still on the screen.

"apparently i was summoned by name," he said quietly, "to shibuya. whatever curtain's been set up is only allowing sorcerers through."

you kept one hand on the wheel, "ijichi reached out to me too, but he wants me covering the perimeter on the other side, away from the metro. but who would summon you by name?"

"i know. do you think it's...?"

"the traitor everyone's guessing about? who else?"

gojo scoffed a little, "fuckin' surprise," he muttered, casting you a glance that spoke volumes of protectiveness, one that made you lurch ever so slightly. his eyes met yours, an unspoken worry passing between you. you bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself from blurting out the words that lived in the forefront of your mind.

and so, gojo reached for the door handle, and you saw him hesitate as his fingers drummed against the door, before pulling his blindfold up, "well, stay safe, yeah?"

you swallowed, trying to find some false platitude to offer back, "hey, i will if you will."

he gave a short laugh that must have not fully reached his eyes, but it softened the rest of his beautiful face in that way that you loved, "y'know, we could have been going trick-or-treating. dressed like idiots, stuffing our face with candy."

"tweedledee and tweedledum?"

gojo snorted, "next year then."

you hummed, "i'll keep that idea then, tweedledumb."

the bow of his lips quirked, and he looked away again before pushing himself out of the car, stepping out onto the suddenly cold, quiet sidewalk (too quiet, where was everyone?)

he paused, turning back to you through the window, as he lifted his hand up in a small wave, and you could tell he wanted to say something else — but the moment passed, and he closed his mouth, smiling instead in that way of his that said everything without a single word. and he pushed his hands back into his pocket, strolling away as you sat there, suddenly ever so lonely in your silent car, as chills went down your spine.

✉️ — october, 2018 💬 — you.

"gojo satoru has been sealed."

what the fuck?

the world has slowed down, every sound muffled as if you'd been submerged underwater. shibuya had left gojo sealed in the prison realm by...no. it couldn't be.

suguru geto was dead. dead, executed. had it not been almost a year? you had mourned, gojo had grieved. and yet, the impossible had clawed its way into reality, leaving you feeling like you were teetering on the edge of something dark and unknowable.

soon the shock twisted into dread, an icy grip that clenched tight around your chest, left the blood draining from your face. god, your hair must just turn as white as his from the stress alone. your best friend, the one who had been beside you in sickness and health.

it was cruel, you thought, to not even be allowed the time to fall apart, now now. there was little space for it in the chaos that had erupted the next day, when waves of curses crashed through the city like nothing you had ever seen. what fresh hell was this, you wondered as you nursed a nasty set of wounds, trailing after (tormented, sweet, far too young) itadori yuji, and his supposed older brother, some blood manipulation user that had done his fair share of damage throughout the night.

the culling games.

the brutality of it shocked you, and several times during the upcoming days, you had to blink back hot tears as sorcerers were summoned, drafted, and thrown into what was quickly a gladiator spectacle, some devilry concocted from geto's, no, kenjaku's mind. and the stakes were not just your own survival, but the students you had mentored — the young souls who had grown under your watch, and needed you now more than ever.

it quickly cost you an eye. a clash with a fierce, blood-thirsty wayward sorcerer had left you bloody and bruised with a clean gash that ran through your right eye, and you had screamed, taken a life even. only the baritone, dulcet tone of the yuji's half-curse brother (choso? a member of the kamo clan? since when did half-curses even exist?) had pulled you away from launching the contents of your stomach over the pavement, as you stared at the crimson dripping off your hands. were you supposed to be grateful that you had survived this, when so many others had not? yuji's tears had kept you awake in the night, his sobs when he thought that no-one could hear him.

gojo's absence had become a wound, raw, with a side of constant ache that you could feel with every waking heartbeat. and so you tried to fight hard with his voice echoing in your ears, remembering the half-smile he'd flash when you'd land a difficult hit, or the grateful look in his eyes knowing that his students were safe.

days blurred together, and nights bled into ceaseless combat, of the terror of being on the run, and still gojo was with you. the thought of finding him, the thought of him being unsealed from the prison realm almost had you blurting false, desparate promises to the sky that you would tell him exactly what you felt for him, bare your heart out in its entirety for him to hold in his hands.

like it had always been.

✉️ — november, 2018 💬 — you.

it was surreal seeing him again, unsealed and standing there against the burnt umber of the sky, rough around the edges but undeniably gojo. nineteen days of living with the ache of his absence, of waking every morning with a hollow flower blooming in your chest, he was here — alive, breathing, real.

but god, it had been so beautiful to meet his blue gaze once more, and that fleeting smile cross his face before he rushed to pull you into his arms, closing the distance and pulling you into his arms with a new strength that almost lifted you off your feet. and if you closed your eye, you could pretend that nothing had happened, nothing at all. that it was just you pressed against the warm, beating heart in gojo's chest, unrestrained and fierce as thick arms pulled you close, filling your senses with smoke, and earth, and long-spilt blood.

"don't you look eye catching?"

you huffed and leaned away from him, slamming your fist on hard muscle in exasperation, but if you hadn't turned your gaze away, you would have seen gojo's eyes twitch as he took in your battle-worn appearance, the scar that ran underneath bandages where an eye would have once been. if you had paid more attention, you would have heard his intake of breath as he ran his tongue behind his teeth, with a vow, a promise.

"guess who's going to kick sukuna's ass so far back to the heian era," gojo murmured, and you let out a shaky laugh that echoes all the way down to the marrows of your bones.

"yeah, i thought you were just all talk."

"i'm still alive, aren't i?" he shot back, cocky and boyish once more, and your eyes traced over him, drinking in every small change, the sharper clench in his jaw, the tautness in his frame, the way his shoulders seemed broader, like he had been carved up in the prison realm anew. and it leaves you melancholic.

in another universe, the two of you were still young, hand in hand underneath the blue sky as the cool breeze ran through your hair. but battles had turned to war, and the night had no time for what ifs.

"hey, don't go worrying about me," gojo murmured, almost as though he had caught the shadow in your heart, and he plastered a grin on his face, stretching his toned arms in some show of nonchalance, but his gaze lingered on the ruins too long, on the mottled group of assembled sorcerers who seemed to brim with new-found confidence at his return.

and when he finally looked back at you with a new dullness in your eyes, a heaviness you hadn't seen in a long time. it left a dead weight in your chest, but you forced yourself to return his own bland smile, playing along with the front he was trying to maintain, "well, i guess i'll have to keep you out of trouble from now on."

✉️ — november-december, 2018 💬 — you.

the month began to stretch and pass in a blur on the endless horizon, complete with the aching and unbearable waiting where you knew something was going to happen, and yet you did not know when and where. shoko had forgone her own exhausation to see to the rest of the wounds, the ones that had festered under bandages and grimes, leaving faint trails over your skin but she had shaken her head sadly when it came to the socket on your face, even she could not restore an eye.

gojo had swapped his suits and jackets for loose martial pants, and a tight black top that had clung to the muscular frame that he'd honed over the years, laughing off your concerns like they were nothing more than passing clouds.

"don't fret," he'd say, "how bad could this be? you know i told yuji once that even if sukuna was at his full power, i'd still wipe the floor with him. you believe me right?"

you weren't sure if his question was cocky, or a plea, and the fatigue had caused you to snap, "and now, yuji flinches when he hears loud sounds, and he's just another kid who can't fuckin' stop wringing his hands in blood! look what you've done to him!"

gojo's eyes had twitched afterwards, the corner of his mouth pulling down, but he hadn't gotten angry. and you hated it. you hated it all.

but you had wanted to believe in him, in his optimism. you wanted to let his smooth words settle into your bones like the warm comfort they should have been. but how could you feel at ease when everyone was now playing a role? each sorcerer in this building was feigning whatever mask or persona that they had painted and drawn across their face, just as you had. just as gojo did.

but nothing was the same anymore.

and neither were you.

the loss of your eye, the streaks of scars on your skin haunted you. it felt cowardly to say, but this was not the life you should have lived. you simply just didn't see yourself as strong enough, and your eyes watered thinking about the days when you dallied under a clear sky, skirts swaying along the grass as you trailed after your best friend, catching fireflies, exploring shrines, falling to the earth in child-like innocence.

the hollow space on your face, the empty socket served as a reminder of what you had survived, of the world that had fallen into pieces. was there anyone here who would recognise themselves in the mirror anymore?

some nights, the world felt impossibly still, and you would sit at the window and press your hands to the cold of the glass as you watched a scarred city sprawl ahead of you.

you didn't turn at the sound of footsteps at first, and you sat there, with your fingers still dancing on the edge of the window. you closed your eyes as you felt him approach, close, but not enough — you wished he would sit by you, press his soft head to your own, close enough for you to hold him in your hands, curl into his skin.

"satoru, can you make another promise?"

gojo's steps had paused, just a breath but it was enough to know that you had his attention. but when he spoke, "please tell me we're not doing theatrics right now," his voice was laced with that same dismissive edge that he always used when he was trying to push the truth far away.

"can't you shut up, just once? promise me you won't let sukuna kill you, i can't even imagine -" and how irritating, and how melancholic (fuck, this was like a bad soap opera) that your throat was already tightening, your voice wavering with tears that you had been holding back for weeks.

for a moment, gojo didn't respond, and he just stood there and you needn't have turned around to know that there was no trace of laughter nor joy on his face. no easy smirk to deflect the gravity of your well-founded fears. and the silence left you cold.

for the first time, you were suddenly hoping that he might say something blasé, to tell you to stop worrying, to brush it off and just reassure you. but he didn't, he was quiet.

and so you turned to face him, and you felt almost villainous for verbalising your future grief like this, to one who must already have carried such an eternal, heavy burden.

no longer did the blue of his eyes shine like a spring sky, with feather-like clouds that danced in his iris. now, there was only a fractured storm. and god, you loathed that for the first time in what must have been years, his own face was reddening, his eyes suddenly teary, clouds gathering torrential rain.

you knew he hated being seen like this. over a decade of holding him close to your heart had made you privy to his ways, to the way that he'd furiously rub at his face when upset, as if he could will the distress away and hide his tears.

gojo had outstretched his little finger towards you now, hooking it with your own, and your heart stuttered as he brought your finger to his lips, so quick that a ghost may have brushed your skin, with the seal of a promise.

"i will try. god, i swear, i...i promise, i will try." and you knew that gojo satoru was scared, terrified even of what december 24th would bring.

"i -"

you wanted to say it all, wanted to tell him everything. but the words stuck in your throat, love and want and need and ferocious, capricious grief all sat lodged within your beating heart that was so tightly bound in iron chains.

it was a shameful thing. you should have sat there, and comforted him instead. should have told him that it was alright, and you did not know a more powerful and capable sorcerer than he, that he'd leave sukuna in ashes. should have laid your hand on his brow to soothe the lines away from his pale, streaked face.

but you had always been selfish, held onto your heart like a being of folklore, guarded and self-assuming. you wept heart-aching tears, feeling them pool in your sleeves, and run hot salt trails over your lips. maybe it was a testament to how much gojo satoru loved you too, that he could not bear to see you in such grief, and he hesitated.

then he turned to leave you by the window.

✉️ — december 24, 2018 💬 — you.

the turn of the year felt cold, far too chilly, even though the night was still young. the city lights twinkled in solitary clumps outside, but they were just as dim as the heavy weight in your chest. the walls seemed to close in as gojo prepared to leave, to face sukuna — the king of curses. and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was slipping through your fingers, something that you would never be able to grasp again, no matter how tightly you gripped.

everyone had wished him luck, calling your their bravest words of encouragement as he walked past them, their voices echoing through the hall, as they slapped him on the back.

they all cheered the same platitudes.

"go fuck sukuna up!"

"language!"

"sorry, choso."

"show him what you're made of!"

"prove that you're not just a pretty face, gojo!"

and so you had plastered the same smile on your face, hoping that it would reach your eyes as gojo winked at you, "hey, before you start telling me off, now it's your turn to promise me something."

you had cocked your head up at him, ignoring shoko's narrowed, tired eyes, "yeah?"

"mhm," satoru nodded, pulling his arms around you, "after this, after all this bullshit, we get to take a vacation."

a barked laugh escaped you, before it collapsed into a giggle, "you want paid leave? that's all it is?"

your best friend's large hands gripped you, flat against your back, "yeah, that's all there is. we're gonna go take a holiday, sit by the beach, watch the ocean. keep it simple."

"a picnic too, eh?"

gojo nodded, humming, "we'll plan everything. about time we got to take a break. i'll be back before you even know it."

you felt his voice hitch against your ear, and your heart twisted painfully in response, he wasn't saying it but you both knew the cold truth, there was a real chance that he may never come back. before your vision could blur, you pressed his lips to his cheek, letting them linger for a moment on smooth skin (and you felt his arms tighten around you) and hoped that whatever you hoped to say, whatever spine you lacked, could be expressed so swiftly.

"come back then, please. i'll be ready." you whispered between his skin and your lips, the tremble leaving no space for air in your lungs.

for a moment, he didn't answer, just held you, and you tried to focus on the feeling of his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. then, just as you were about to pull away, he spoke, the words falling from his mouth, so familiar and so effortless.

"of course i will. i always do."

there was a flicker of something raw there in his eyes, and you had seen it both before and after shibuya. his lips parted as if he were about to say something, but whatever it was, it never came. instead, he just nodded, a silent promise — unspoken, but felt deep in your bones.

without another word, he turned toward the door. and just before stepping out, he looked back one last time. that smile, that arrogant, confident smile that always made your heart race —i t was there, but it wasn’t the same. it was stretched thin, fragile. his blue eyes were tired, haunted, and for a moment, you saw the truth — the part of him he always kept hidden. the fear. the doubt.

"i'll be back," he repeated, but this time, it didn’t sound like a joke. it sounded like a prayer. a desperate, half-broken promise from the closest thing that the world had to a god.

you couldn’t speak. your heart was lodged in your throat, and the words that you needed to say just wouldn’t come. you wanted to tell him that you loved him, that you always had, that you were scared to lose him, that the world without him in it felt like a hollow echo of what it could be. but you couldn’t.

instead, you just nodded, your face a mask of emotions you couldn’t express.

and then, with one final look, a look that held everything neither of you had the courage to say — he stepped out into the cold, his footsteps fading into the distance.

✉️ — december 24, 2018 💬 — you.

gojo satoru was dead.

dead. killed.

for a moment, you stood frozen in the doorway of shoko's office, numbness seeping into your bones with a furious grief as you stared at the cold, unmoving form that was once satoru.

fuck, there was bile in your throat as a once lively boy now lay in four pieces, cleanly sliced by sukuna's unforgiving technique, and the sight was a nightmare made so real, something that you just couldn't reconcile with the man who had once been so vibrantly alive.

the warmth that had always clung to him had vanished, leaving his skin pale in the grasp of rigor mortis, and his lips were still flecked with dried blood that had painted a stark contrast against his stiff skin.

and his eyes, those striking blue eyes that used to glint with love and hope and dreams, were now dull, and still open. you had not the heart to close them, for once your hand pulled his eyelids down, you would never see them again, never look into his eyes until it was your time to pass from the circles of the world.

the last thing you’d seen of him had been that cocky grin, that wink that seemed so unbreakable, that laugh that lingered even as he left your embrace. he’d held you, promised you that he would come back, but now, as you stood there, that promise felt like a cruel lie, something that should’ve warned you but instead gave you nothing but hope.

you choked on a breath, your hand coming up to your mouth as you felt the weight of your unspoken words sink down like lead. i should have told him. you’d wanted to say it all, to let him know how much he meant to you, to tell him that he was your everything. but the words had died in your throat, held back by fear, by the delusion that there’d always be another chance, that he’d always come back.

you’d believed him. you’d believed, with every part of yourself, that he’d make it out alive.

but here he was, torn apart, the last shreds of life stolen from him by the king of curses. you had seen him being cut down, like a sheaf of wheat under a god's sickle, how sudden and gut wrenching it had been, and for the second time in a month, you had been on the edge of hurling onto the stone. but this time, the half-curse beside you, choso, hadn't stopped you from losing the contents of your stomach, as instead he had pressed his younger brother's cries to his broad chest, the grief swallowing the entire room.

gojo hadn’t been given the chance to fight back, hadn’t even been able to draw a breath before he’d been torn apart. and that final thought — that he’d been caught off guard, helpless, alone in his last moments — left you feeling shattered, grief clawing at you with merciless hands.

your knees felt weak as you moved toward him, your trembling fingers reaching out to touch his face, cold and unyielding beneath your hand. you traced the lines of his face, memorising every detail, as if somehow, through touch alone, you could keep a piece of him with you. a tear slipped down your cheek, landing on his lips, lips that had once murmured promises, had brushed against your skin in fleeting, unspoken moments. the tear brought moisture once more to the blood that splattered his face, but quickly, it disappeared, drying and taking away any life.

"i should’ve told you,” you whispered, your voice broken, raw, laced with the pain of regret, "i don't know if you ever knew how much i loved you."

you closed your eyes, the silence thickening around you, pressing down until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. your mind replayed every smile, every laugh, every word he’d ever spoken to you, each memory twisting the knife of grief deeper into your chest. the emptiness of the room swallowed you whole, and all that was left was the aching, unbearable reality that he was gone — that the man who had been your best friend, your confidant, your everything, was nothing more than a memory now.

you stayed there, your hand resting on his cold cheek, as if the warmth of your touch could somehow reach him, bring him back. but he was gone, and with him, he’d taken the words you’d never been able to say, the love you’d never been able to give.

and as the silence closed in around you, suffocating and absolute, you knew that part of you had died with him.

✉️ — not so long later. 💬 — you. it could only be you now, for you are the only one left.

the sun was beginning to set as you reached the shore, casting an amber glow over the ocean. the waves lapped quietly against the sand, as a gentle roll becoming a reminder that the world was still moving, even when the battles were done.

even though everything within you felt like it had come to a standstill. you clutched a folded piece of glossy card, and a box. two things that shoko said she found on him, things that she thought you should keep, she added quietly.

and so, you sat down on the sand, letting the evening wind sweep over you as you gazed out at the endless stretch of water. the ocean had always been something you had dreamed of seeing together, an endless horizon that was wild and untameable, just like gojo satoru had been. but he was gone, gone, and that promise would forever remain unkept.

you opened the folded glossy card, wincing as you tried not to press the faded creases further, brushing over the faded edges. it was dated to the fall of 2005, and you bit your lip as you saw your own image stare back at you. when the world had felt endless, and you had two wide eyes to see it with. there you were, that day in the market, laughing in the photo with your head thrown back sweetly, and you wetly laughed as you saw geto suguru's confused expression in the background, clearly exasperated with gojo's photography skills.

a choked sob escaped you as you traced your smile in the photo, so oblivious to what would come. you’d been so happy then, wrapped in a moment that had felt simple and whole. gojo had teased you relentlessly that day, snapping photos every chance he got, and you’d thought he was just being his usual, silly self. you’d never realised he’d kept this one one, never knew it meant enough for him to carry it all this time.

with a shaking hand, you opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. fuck.

it was beautiful, impossibly beautiful, as if he’d carefully chosen each detail with you in mind. the diamond glistened in the fading light, flecked with small blue stones that reminded you of his eyes, the eyes that used to light up every time he looked at you. this ring was supposed to be a promise, just as the ones you made when you locked little fingers — a promise he never got the chance to make, a life together that you’d both been too afraid to admit you wanted.

the first tear fell, splashing onto the sand below, followed by another, and then another, until you were trembling, the grief tearing out of you in waves, raw and unstoppable. you held the ring to your chest, clutching it as if somehow, by holding it close, you could feel him, hear his laughter, feel the warmth of his arms around you. you could almost hear his voice on the wind, that playful edge mixed with tenderness as he called you by one of his ridiculous pet names. Sweetheart, honey, my pumpkin pie, followed by your irritated huff telling him to drop those names.

but truly, here was nothing. just the sound of the waves, relentless and indifferent, echoing the hollow ache in your chest.

the what-ifs clawed at you, memories replaying over and over in your mind: moments when you’d almost reached for him, almost whispered the words, almost let your heart break free. but each time, you’d held back, too afraid to disrupt the delicate balance between you, too certain there’d be another day. but now, those moments were gone, scattered like dust in the wind, and the weight of those unsaid words felt unbearable.

you pressed the photograph to your lips, closing your eyes as if you could summon him back, if only for a moment. but when you opened your eyes, all that greeted you was the empty horizon, stretching out into nothingness.

"i love you,” you murmured, voice broken, barely more than a whisper. "i love you. i always loved you."

the words hung in the air, unheard, unanswered. it was too late, too late for confessions, too late for promises. the life you’d wanted with him, the life he’d carried in his pocket with a ring and a photograph, was gone, lost to the cruel twist of fate that had taken him from you.

you stayed there on the sand as the sky darkened, the weight of his absence pressing down on you like a storm. the wind whipped around you, cold and biting, and you shivered, clutching his ring, his memory, as if that alone could keep you grounded.

as night fell, the stars began to appear, dotting the sky with fragile points of light, distant and unreachable. and you sat there, letting the grief wash over you, lost in the silent, aching expanse of the ocean and the memories of a love that would remain forever unspoken, forever unfulfilled.

wasn't love the greatest curse of them all?

[n0-strings]

jackalope calling us out. damn. but i really dont think this kind of voting is bad because it's operating on the prisoner's safety and not their true judgement. 

but yes i voted the entire t1 guilty gang innocent in t2 - both to protect and for the changing stance on their murders.

whilst i forgive everyone in the guilty t1 group for their crimes (well except partly mikoto bc i still think mikoto had greater involvement in the murders than john lets on), i also definitely have the motivation of protecting them from kotoko's 'justice' as ironic as it may be

like i know me, personally, i am not the warden of milgram. but like isnt it a warden's job to ensure that safety of justice?

protecting them from that violence would still be protecting them from the same violence they dealt in the first place but the whole point of attempting to judge the prisoners in this scenario is so that we can overturn that kind of systematic misjudgement. if milgram is an unjust system, then (if the warden cares about their prisoners, as Es definitely does), it's the wardens burden to protect them and make the right choice.

teaching the guilty more violence against the violence done against them is both unjust and pointlessly cruel (imo).

i understand the kotoko ideology is about that; it's about that sheer mercilessness; that pure hate; it's about that anger of wanting reflect what happened to you onto the aggressor however tenfold or however fractional of the original pain you experienced.

(though well not you in kotoko's case - but for the 'yous' who didnt have enough physical power to grant themselves their own 'justice' in the first place. doing it for the people who never could, regardless if they asked for it because it's her responsibility. because she has the power too. )

(i also have that kind of biased anger when someone hurts a child, hence why i literally cannot not forgive amane. if that makes sense?but regardless i think any hurt i'd give in that scenario is unjust because it would be too biased to myself - so i try and redirect that hate more into protecting rather than hurting, which is why i disagree with kotoko)

and yes kotoko also simultaneously enjoys hurting some people (like definitely enjoys hurting some people. to me.), but i think she at least feels a little remorse when she hurts some specific people.

which is why she forces herself to do this out of everyone-

because it kills her that everyone else will do nothing when they have the option not to. because if this is such an awful job, and yet she gets some selfish joy out of it, then doesn't it make more sense for her to bear the burden, rather than a 'normal' person who would feel guilty?

clasping my hands behind my back as sweat rolls down my face. there were so many harrowing things said in the second trial report⸻dangling haruka's fate like a toy, alluding to mahiru's life⸻but jackalope remarking how kotoko's efficiency of judgement through violence worked makes me feel so sick. genuinely had to take a break from the video for a moment.

not because it's wrong per se, but because wouldn't kotoko herself disagree? she's harped repeatedly how she's not happy the scum criminals have been granted an innocent. it would be such a slap in the face to be commended for her efforts while rotting in her restraints. like, if i was her i'd crash a brick through the window, climb in, and fistfight that rabbit.

[empress-simps]

Line That Leads To You

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem! Reader AU: Soulmate AU CW: Language, Genre: Angst with a happy ending (don't worry guys) Summary: You make Sirius realize that having a soulmate isn’t all that bad— that he too, will have his happily ever after.

Note: One of my favorite tropes to write, soulmate AUs! Sirius just needs love and affirmation. I love writing for this! Enjoy! Picture is from pinterest, credits to the owner!

You know, Sirius never really believed in those pesky soulmates stuff. It irks him to no end, and makes his head hurt.

The topic makes him snappy, bitter, and it leaves him feeling angry. To whom? The world— the one who’s responsible for everything that has to do with soulmates. He thinks it is a bunch of bollocks. It’s a pathetic little concept that everyone seems to be too invested in.

Sirius would be very much happy to tell you it doesn’t really end with a happily-ever-after.

“I’m telling you, Prongs. It’s just a bunch of crap.” Sirius tells James one time at the drawing room in the Potter Manor. James shakes his head, disagreeing with his best mate.

“It isn’t always like Walburga and Orion, Pads.” James gently tells him, eyes swimming with empathy for Sirius. “Just look at me, Lily and I are together, finally.” Sirius can’t help but scoff, shaking his head in a disagreeing manner.

“That’s because you were already pathetically in love with her before you even knew she was the one, Prongs. Same thing for Lily, but she was quite stubborn trying to deny what she felt about you. You guys are actually made for each other.” James lets out a laugh, the memories resurfacing making a love-struck smile appear on his face (Sirius gave him a disgusted look)

“That’s what soulmates are, Pads. You’re supposed to complete each other, balance the other person out” He pursed his lips and sighed, there’s no way Prongs could understand his opinion on the matter.

Complete each other, huh?

Then can someone give him a reasonable excuse on why his parents broke each other? One descended into madness; the other doesn’t really seem to care as long as the noble house of Black lineage will continue.

Sirius bites his bottom lip, deep in thought as he stares at his pinky, willing the connection to be seen; a red string that was tied into a bow that leads to Merlin-knows-where. It serves as a connection; the string that he and only his soulmate can see whenever they want. He tugs on it curiously, awaiting any reaction with bated breath. He almost scrambled away when he felt the other end also tug it. Sirius was utterly terrified, a shiver crawled up to his system, it’s foreign feeling for the Black’s eldest son. It made everything feel too real. A fact that he desperately tries to deny.

That night, before they returned to Hogwarts as sixth year students was the last time he ever willed to see the annoying little string in his pinky, not caring if his supposed other half was finding him or already found him.

Maybe it had to do with his twisted upbringing. He saw how his father cut the string tying him to their mother, the purple string that bound them together turning gray and withering away.

He saw how Regulus flinched, no one should’ve seen a scene like that, but they did. Someone severing their connection to someone who should’ve been with them through better or for worse, the one that fate intended for them. Their life got worse just after that, forcing him to flee and leave his younger brother behind at the deranged hands of Walburga Black.

“You should eat more, Reggie.” You turned towards the quiet and reserved Slytherin, pushing his plate closer to him, which made him wince. “I am quite full.” You raised a brow “None sense, all you did was sip pumpkin juice so you better do as I say or I’ll tell Evan and Junior.”

“Do you know that you boss people around quite well?” He grumbles, shoving a few spoonsful of dinner in his mouth as you hummed in approval, cracking a small smile. “I was told.” Your eyes flickered to the Gryffindor table, it seemed to gravitate you, pulling you in.

Looking down at your pinky, you willed the string to be visible to you. Seeing the red string attached to Sirius Black made your stomach churn; was it butterflies? Unease? You don’t particularly know, having mixed reactions to the string that leads to your other half.

You’ve known for over a year now, keeping it to yourself as you quickly figured out that he wants nothing to do with his soulmate.

“Reggie! Reggie!”

You exclaimed, slapping the poor boy’s arm as he was currently staying in the L/n Manor. He looked in your direction, quite annoyed, he was interrupted reading his book. “I’m reading, Y/n. You know, you should too. It’ll do you some good.” He sassed, trying to find which part he stopped reading. “My soulmate! They tugged the string!” You gushed, “They must be looking for me too, right?” You asked no one in particular, you can still feel the tingles you felt, how your heartbeat picked up, and how you felt like you were in could nine.

Quite the opposite from what Sirius felt, huh?

You never told him, never planned to. It was quite clear what his views are on the concept of soulmates when you saw him snogging different girls every week. It wrecked you; you swore you felt your heart stop beating every time you see him loving a girl other than you even just for a week. It sounds stupid and all, but you would give up everything just to know what it feels like; how he will look at you with love and adoration in his eyes, how his touch and kisses would linger on your body, and how his voice would sound like as his breath fans in your ear, whispering promises of love.

You looked at him from the Slytherin table; so close yet so far.

Regulus noticed, the all too familiar broken look in your face. His heart hurts for you, even if you do not tell him, he already knows. Seeing his brother’s indifference, Regulus’s gaze hardened. How could he have the guts to do this to his soulmate?

The memory of their mother's despair, the way she withered away after their father severed the bond, was etched into his mind. Regulus does not wish for anyone to feel that way, he does not wish upon it even in his worst enemies.

It was a pain no one should endure, a lesson that should have been learned.

Yet there sat his brother, laughing with his friends and willfully ignoring the pulls of his heart. The person who held the other end of this unseen tether, was beside Regulus. Your soul ached as you watched your soulmate. It was a betrayal of the heart's deepest connection, and it stirred a tempest of fury within Regulus that he struggled to contain.

“My brother is foolish. Eat.” He states, pushing your food and placing the cornbread on his plate to yours. She cracks a smile, chuckling. “Alright, Reggie. You’re lucky I love you.” You pat his curls, proceeding to eat the bread, smiling a little. Reggie never really shares his food with anyone, except for you. You’re the only exception.

“Padfoot.” Remus starts, looking out of the window as Sirius lays down lazily in his bed, looking at nothing.

“What, Moons?”

“If I say that I have an inkling on who your soulmate is, would you… look for them?” Remus asked cautiously. Peter and James perked up, eyes wide with shock. How could Remus possibly guess who his soulmate is? Unless… They’re also in Hogwarts?

“Don’t start with that crap, Moony.” Sirius sat up; a scowl displayed in his features as his grey eyes turned stormy.

“Don’t you even feel the slightest amount of guilt in your system as you snog other girls?” Remus frowned.

Sirius’s scowl deepened, his hands clenching into fists. “Guilt? For what, Moony? For not wanting to be chained down by some ancient magic?” His voice was a low growl, barely containing the emotions that surged within him. “I won’t be dictated by fate. I make my own choices, and I refuse to be bound by a bond I never asked for.”

Remus’s expression softened, the lines of concern etching deeper into his face. “It’s not about being chained, Pads. It’s about finding someone who complements you, who understands you in ways no one else can.” He paused, his gaze steady and piercing. “You’ve seen what happens when that bond is severed. You’ve seen the pain it causes. Is that what you want for yourself? For your soulmate who’s probably hurting somewhere?”

Sirius looks down, biting his lip and playing with the rings on his fingers. “I don’t plan on severing our bond, Moons- “

“Then what the fuck are you doing?” Remus spat, Sirius flinched, looking at anything but them. He knew deep down that Remus was right. He can’t deny he also wants to look for his soulmate. The only thing that was holding him back is that he’s scared. What if your story would end similarly like how Walburga and Orion’s did? Dread fills his system as he reflects on how he slowly realized he’s becoming like his father. Peter and James exchanged a glance, the weight of the conversation settling heavily upon them.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of finding her… Scared of repeating the same mistakes.” He paused, his gaze lifting to meet Remus’s. “But you’re right. I can’t keep running from this. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to me.”

James offered a supportive smile, feeling happy for his friend. Sirius stood up, his posture straightening as if shedding the weight of his fears. “I’ll do it. I’ll find her,” he declared, his voice steady. “I owe it to both of us to at least try.”

“That’s our Padfoot.” Remus breathes a sigh of relief as Peter nods encouragingly at Sirius.

The next daylight soon came. Sirius gulps, looking around the great hall, feeling quite overwhelmed at the number of students entering for breakfast, eating, or chatting amongst themselves. For the first time in a long time, he willed the red string of fate to reappear within his vision.

Ah, there it was. The red string connected to someone from the Slytherin table. Sirius felt his heart drop, seeing the end of the string connected to your pinky. “Y/n?” The name left his lips in a hushed awe, his heart skipping a beat as he saw the string connected to your pinky. You, who laughed with such ease beside Regulus, were the missing piece.

Whether it was some brotherly instinct, Regulus looked at him, shooting him a warning stare as if to say: ‘If you hurt her, you’ll never see the light of day ever again.’

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise, knowing eyes set on his friend. “Found her, Pads?”

“Yeah. Found her, Moony.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” James chimed in, a grin spreading across his face as Peter silently cheers him on. “Go on, before you lose your nerve.”

Sirius took a deep breath, trying to shake off the weight of Regulus’s protective stare. It was a silent challenge, a vow to keep your heart safe from his brother. With a nod of acknowledgment, Sirius stepped forward, crossing the small distance between the Gryffindor table and Slytherin.

“Y/n,” he said, standing before you, the red string pulsing with a life of its own.

You stilled, slowly looking in his direction. Eyes wide with surprise, searched his for a moment before softening. “I was wondering when you’d come around,” you teared up, making Sirius’ heart ache.

Sirius extended his hand, the red string wrapping around both your destinies. “Let’s talk, yeah?”

And in that moment, as your fingers intertwined, Sirius knew that whatever the future held, he had made the right choice. For in finding you, he had found a new path that began to unravel, one filled with hope and courage. The buzz of Great Hall continued, but both of them felt time still, feeling the bond weave into their souls deeper.

Sirius’s and Y/n’s story had its flaws, but it was theirs, uniquely woven by the red strings of fate.

[greensaplinggrace]

the fact of the matter is that buffy ends up isolated no matter what the scoobies do because she bears the burden of the slayer alone at the end of the day and nothing can change that. the problem with this isn't that she's separate from them, it's that they don't want to acknowledge that she is, and in doing so they drive a wedge between them that just grows and grows. the best thing about spike is that he's similar enough to this other side of buffy to understand it and her by extension. he is the only person around who can support that side of her.

most of buffy's issues in season six stem from the scoobies rejecting a part of buffy that spike accepts. and this shame she feels for her reliance on spike and the presence of this darkness and isolation she cannot avoid is largely because of them. i'm sick of this bizarre assumption that pointing out where the scoobies go wrong in their relationship with buffy somehow equals an uncritical uplifting of spike. just because he understands her and represents a certain aspect of her doesn't mean he doesn't fuck up. i mean that's kind of the whole point of their season six dynamic. one of his biggest issues is that he thinks he's helping her by enabling her completely because he doesn't have the ability to properly identify the line between self acceptance and self destruction - pursuit of the id is one of his biggest character traits. that's what makes the end of season six and his decision to get the soul so interesting (although of course there's just as much i can say about the narrative framing of that in regards to lore consistency and the story's obsession with angel, but that's a whole other thing).

point is, the scoobies cannot understand all of buffy, and when they refuse to acknowledge this they destroy their chances of building any bridges to even a simple relationship with that other side of buffy or helping her carry that burden in any way. meanwhile, spike is in the proper position to understand buffy as the slayer and hold his own with her in such a way, but his definition of love is wholly obsessive and destructive. while i disagree that he's incapable of love and even of loving selflessly without his soul, i think spike's version of love in particular is self destructive in a way that enables buffy's own desire to hurt herself through hurting him (see the aforementioned shame regarding her shadow self). spike cannot identify why allowing buffy to give in to her dark side in such a way is bad because he struggles to understand how she could use this to resent herself - although i do think he realizes it's happening on some level.

spike is also buffy's only form of catharsis and the only one that actually listens to what she is saying during a time when everybody else is dismissing her because of the aforementioned inability to understand her as the slayer. it's a clusterfuck - and a clusterfuck that needed to be shattered with a hammer for any kind of relief. and quite frankly to disregard the scoobies' own part in this situation does a disservice to buffy as a character. to be honest, she deserves fucking better than what everyone in her life gives her, especially the scoobies, who grow to take her for granted and feel entitled to controlling her life as a way of keeping her conformed - again, due to the aforementioned lack of desire to acknowledge this other part of her that they cannot connect with.

which leads to season seven, where spike is the only person on the show who has developed and changed enough to remain at buffy's side helping her carry the burden. while everyone else suffered during season six, none of them opened their eyes to what they were doing to buffy - and if they did, none of them acted on it. spike is the only one to acknowledge the damage he's done and work to become better for buffy in any way he can. he is the only one that ends up able to carry that burden with her because he is the only one capable of facing the truth and acting on his desire to do better.

the fucking problem isn't that he hurt buffy - because to be quite frank everybody did - it's that he's the only person on the whole damn show to acknowledge his place in buffy's life, and to acknowledge the burdens she bears, and actively change himself for her. did you know he has almost all of the genuine apologies in the entire show? seven seasons and all of the harm the scoobies cause buffy, and it's fucking spike that is acting like a mature person capable of being a proper partner.

[linkspooky]

The Death of Kenjaku

So I was planning to write this meta the week that Kenjaku died, but decided to delay until we got full confirmation of his death. Something I didn't believe in even after Kenjaku passed the merger onto Sukuna. However, watching this video about death in Jujutsu Kaisen inspired me to finish this post. Not because I disagree with anything the YouTuber is saying, but because they can speculate on the meaning of so many deaths in Jujutsu Kaisen but can't find the meaning in Kenjaku's sudden death. This has led me to speculate why Gege made the choice to kill Kenjaku in the way that he did. What meaning is there in Kenjaku's abrupt and unsatisfying death?

Who is Kenjaku?

The first step in understanding Kenjaku's death is of course understanding how he lived. We actually know incredibly little about Kenjaku's character by design. Despite the fact he's literally in Geto's body, he's not meant to have sympathetic or human motivations to his actions (though hold onto that "human motivation" in your head for a moment). No flashback sequence shows the audience why this guy is the way he is, no single event seems to have driven him to do what he did.

This is what we know about Kenjaku in brief. He is a sorcerer who is over a thousand years old who was around in Sukuna's day. He once had a friendship with Tengen, but found her original self boring and unambitious. He also contrasts heavily with Tengen, who lives outside of humanity, because he has lived among humanity for 1,000 years. One of those lifetimes was Noritoshi Kamo who violated a woman and conducted heinous experiments. He produced ten children in his one thousand years, the nine death painting siblings and Yuji Itadori. He considers the first children boring, because human and curse hybrids turned out too normal.

He also partially blames himself for how boring they are, because he can't create anything that will exceed his expectations, the only thing that can exceed his expectations is born in chaos. He spent a thousand years organizing the culling games, and wants to use the games to create a merger, because he thinks creating a merger between Tengen and Humanity will create something entirely new and interesting. He also believes the way towards the future lies in further optimizing cursed energy, not in breaking away from it the way Yuki Tsukumo tried to do and Maki has.

The only people whose word we have on Kenjaku's motivations are Kenjaku himself, and Tengen's word and Tengen themselves who claims to not know what goes on in the human heart.

From all of the above Kenjaku seems to be a shallow character who's motivations can be summed up as "because I can" and "I want to see what happens." This shallowness is intentional however, as Gege who once praised the minimalist storytelling of Nasu and Evangelion likes to pick and choose what crumbs of backstory he gives out for his characters. We've never gotten any exposition on the Gojo clan, but we have an entire chapter about Takaba's failed career as a stand-up comic. This isn't a judgement of good or bad writing, this is just how Gege writes as minimalist as possible. This is in line with how Gege writes the ancient sorcerers as well, they are all much more shallow driven by instinct or Freudian Id (I desire) rather than the higher reasoning of modern-day sorcerers. Takaba uses comedy as a means of communication and bridging the gaps between people, Higuruma's backstory is the critique of the modern day justice system. Ishigori apparently lived a satisfying life where he was succesful and had good women, but that wasn't enough so he wants to get into a fight with Yuta to satisfy his hunger and feel like he's eaten desert.

It sounds shallow when I summarize it in text, but in the context of the fight with Yuta, it's a challenge for Yuta who for the most part only cares about his loved ones and sees the world through his love goggles to be more selfish and fight for his own desires. It's also reflective of a more basic and instinctual kind of thinking, as opposed to the higher reasoning and logic that modern-day sorcerers apply.

I'm keeping most of this first part to text for this reason, like go back and read the fight with Ishigori and Yuta. If I summarize Ishigori's character reasoning out of context it sounds stupid, but read the fight and it works because it's ID (I Desire) vs. Yuta's superego in not only having to collect points to help rescue Tsumiki, find a way to protect all the innocent people in the Culling Games, and also collect enough points to take on Kenjaku himself so Gojo won't have to. Meanwhile Ishigori's just fighting to get some of that sweet desert, the shallow works in contrast to the more layered motivations of our heroes.

Kenjaku is a shallow archetype fighting to satisfy his baser impulses (in his case curiosity) in comparison to the main characters who are fighting for more complicated reasons and often people besides themselves.

The question then becomes what archetype is Kenjaku. In that case answering who Kenjaku is is quite simple.

Kenjaku is a clown.

It might be more accurate to say that Kenjaku embodies what's commonly known as the "trickster archetype" but I'mma go with clown.

The most obvious example of a clown villain is what most consider the joker to be, that is a silly little clown man who challenges the straight faced and grim batman and sews chaos where Batman attempts to establish law and order in Gotham and make the city into a better place.

From the book Batman and Psychology:

More than any other villains, the Joker and Two-face reflect Batman himself as funhouse distortions, converses of who and what he is. The laughing, jesting, brightly colored Joker contrasts with grim, dark Batman. The Joker is the Joker. No alter ego. The film's opening bank robbery shows him wearing a clown mask over clown makeup, Under the surface there's only more Joker. He gives no history except inconsistent lies. When he finally considers the impact of his demand Batman unmask, he retracts the threat and demands that Batman's identity remain undisclosed. He wants a batman who has no other self, a Dark Knight whose only deeper layer is further darkness.

Is there a better descriptor for Kenjaku then these words?

Kenjaku is Kenjaku. No alter ego. A clown mask over clown makeup., Under the surface there's only more Kenjaku.

In other words, what you see is what you get.

Kenjaku even mirrors Joker's opinion of Batman, he thinks people should be more like him, not the other way around. He's not the outlier, he's being true to humanity's basic impulses of curiousity and discovery.

A more apt comparison as a clown though would probably be Loki, one of the most classic examples of clowning in the shared mythology of humanity. The character who challenges the common wisdom of gods like Odin who suspended themselves from the world tree for eleven days in order to gain wisdom. Loki, who through his trickery manages to bring about the events of Ragnarok for no deeper reason than because he can. Everyone swore not to harm Balder and Loki goes to find something that can harm him because BET.

Mythological Loki doesn't need a deeper motivation because what he represents in the mythology is someone who challenges authority and brings about a change, because in Norse Mythology nothing lasts forever and no era is permanent. Jujutsu Kaisen is also a story about how things should not in fact stay the same and tradition is bad sometimes.

When Kenjaku finds Tengen's true body he's curled up in a tree root in the fetal position, and he killed what is basically the all-knowing, all-seeing supposedly immortal sorcerer that maintains the status quo of japan, it's not exactly subtle.

Kenjaku is a clown, and clown's gotta clown. We don't need any more explanation that, it's more about what he does for the story. However, what he represents, the deep intellectual curiosity, and also a drive to disrupt the status quo in an attempt to see something more interesting can also be analyzed more deeply because they are human emotions that motivate us as well. The same way that Mahito is an inhuman monster, but he's created and motivated by the fear of other humans, something all of us have. '

Before moving onto his death though, I wanna hammer in how Kenjaku really is just motivated by these two things, a desire to see something interesting, and intellectual curiosity by comparing him to other characters.

The Clown in Fiction

I've already compared Kenjaku to Loki and the Joker, but when it comes to someone who wants to disrupt the entire order of the world simply because they're bored we've got to go to the original girlboss.

So there are plenty of villains who go "I'm evil because I'm bored" but they usually tend to be pretty shallow, either shallowly written for the lulz evil characters who just exist for shock value or just kinda dull. No one has ever done it as good as Junko Enoshima and no one ever will again.

For those who need context DanganRonpa is a death game series where the main villain basically has caused the apocalypse, wiped out most of humanity, and then induces survivors in a bunker to kill each other in a death game, where if someone commits a succesful murder they can escape the bunker, but if they're caught in a trial they're executed. Also, if they're not convicted in the trial everyone else is killed, motivating the jury to find and execute the guilty murderer.

Junko Enoshima the main villain and orchestrator of this death game ended the world because despair. She wants to inflict despair on everyone because despair. Because hope sucks and despair is where it's at.

It sounds shallow and it is and Kodaka has said in interview he wrote Junko to be a villain character with zero redeeming character traits, and no sympathetic backstory to describe why she is the way she is, but there is still something motivating her.

If you go a bit deeper into the lore and read Dangan Ronpa Zero, there is an entire book which explains the lengths which Junko goes to feel normal human emotions. The thing is much like Kenjaku Junko is too smart for her own good, everything is predictable and therefore everything bores her. Once in an attempt to live normally, she literally lobotomizes herself, makes it so that she can't remember anything and has continual amnesia constantly forgetting what just happened to her, because that's the only way she can live without knowing everything that's going to happen and constantly predicting everyone's actions.

Junko has whatever her universe's version of the six-eyes is, but instead of lording it over other people like Gojo and basking in her superiority she wants to feel normal, and connected to the world. If she can't have that she tries to make the world as unpredictable place as possible so she can experience it the same way that everyone else does.

Hope is harmony. A just heart, moving toward the light. That is all. Despair is hope's polar opposite. It is messy and confusing. It swallows up love, hatred, and everything else. Because not knowing where you will end up is despair. Despair is even what you cannot predict. Only despair's unpredictability can save you from a boring future.

I'm still not describing it properly because I don't want to go into a Danganronpa essay in this post about Jujutsu Kaisen, but one example I always use is two characters from American Dragon Jake Long. They're a pair of twins who see the future, one always sees happy things, and one always sees sad things. The one who has happy visions is a goth who's very depressed and the one who sees disaster is an incredibly peppy girl.

Jake is so confused as to why the twin who always sees good visions is so depressed, and she basically tells him to imagine having every good thing, every small little surprise, every pleasure taken out of life.

Kara: When you only see good things, nothing's special anymore. All the pleasant surprises are taken out of life. Sara: But, when you only see bad stuff, even the smallest bit of good news makes you happy!

All of this to say what Junko feels isn't just boredom, or a desire to commit evil for evil's sake, but also a full on existential crisis where she's simply too smart so she doesn't feel any connection to other people or the world around her. In order to feel that connection, that connection that everyone else has, to feel like she is actually a participant in her life not an observer she's willing to go to extremes to make the world a more interesting place, to therefore make her own life feel satisfying.

Kenjaku vs. The World (Kenjaku Pilgrim's sad little life)

To connect all this back to Kenjaku imagine the profound existential despair of a person who's lived for a thousand years, and felt bored all that time. Sukuna is at least a hedonist, he gets his fun by getting into fights, humans might be bugs to him but they're tasty bugs.

Kenjaku goes to similiar motivations and has similiar extremes, he's uninvested in the world around him, he's lived a thousand years but has no attachment to the world, to life, to the people around him. I said that Junko wants to be a participant in life not an all seeing observer and that was purposeful language because to bring back an old post. I rambled on this post about Gojo that part of Gojo's problem is that he only experiences observer-to-object relationships or I to it.

Ich and Du, translated as I and Thou is a book by philosopher Martin Buber. His two main porositions is that we may address existence in two ways:

The attitude of the “I” towards “it” towards an object that is separate in itself, which we either use or experience.

The attitude of “I” towards “Thou” in a relationship in which the other is not separated by discrete bounds.

In Buber's terms, those who only experience the first type of relationships are only observing the world around them not relating to them. Kenjaku doesn't relate to other human beings because they are objects, he only experiences subject -> object relationships and never subject -> subject.

Buber also goes on to theorize that meaning in our lives comes from subject -> subject relationships we form with other people.

Kenjaku jokingly says that to be his friend you have to never bore him and be his equal, but there's no one considers his equal because he's the subject and everyone else are just objects.

He regrets he can't sit down and talk theories with Tsukumo Yuki because she's one of the few people who think like him.

Kenjaku is a paradox of an incredibly brilliant man who is also shallow as a puddle that you can stand in and not get your socks wet. However, he tragically can't really form a more complex identity because our identities are formed by our relationships to other people and Kenjaku doesn't relate to anybody.

That's basically the theme of the whole Choso and Kenjaku fight, Choso is a weird aborted fetus of a curse who still has a strong identity and is able to feel unconditional love for Yuji because of the connection of family and the ideas of brotherhood that binds the two. Kenjaku is a bad father who abandoned Choso because they were "boring" but also never really gave them a chance to grow up or be interesting, he just dismissed them offhand and moved on to the next weird science project.

However, his reason for dismissing Choso isn't Choso's fault but rather a case of Psychological projection. It's not Choso who is boring, but rather Kenjaku himself, he said so earlier.

"What I can create, does not exceed the bounds of my own potential. The answer is always flickering darkly in chaos."

Kenjaku cannot look within to find anything satisfying abput his life because there's nothing inside of him. He doesn't have a fully formed identiy he's just ID, and because he tramples all over other people to form his desires he also cannot ever form a full ego. Just like Sukuna and most of the ancient sorcerers he's a paradox of being all ego, and yet having an underdeveloped ego with shallow motivators.

Kenjaku cannot look within because he's a boring person, and he cannot look for other people to find worth in his life because they're just objects, so instead he looks into the void, he tries to change the world around him by spreading more chaos hoping that it will make something unpredictable happen in front of his eyes - and that will give him the meaning and investment in his life he's deprived himself of because he refuses to form relationships with other people.

It's the Gojo problem. It's the Kashimo problem. It's not the Sukuna problem, because Sukuna admits he doesn't care about and rejects things like love and meaning.

If Kenjaku makes the world around him a more interesting place, he will be able to live in it. It's the same as Gojo trying to raise people up to his level by creating stronger students.

So after going to great length to demonstrate how powerful and all-consuming Kenjaku's boredom is, and how cut off he is from his own humanity, here's the part where I sort of defend his death.

Wouldn't it be funny if the joke character killed the main villain?

Let's be honest it was Takaba's kill here, Yuta just camped and killstole. I think part of the problem with people not understanding the meaning behind Kenjaku's sudden and unexpected death is attributing the death to Yuta cutting his head off out of nowhere, and not Takaba's thematic victory over Kenjaku.

Takaba represents a blindspot for Kenjaku which is why the main characters use him as a weapon against him, and he also calls out in a fashion Kenjaku's hypocrisy. First and foremost, Kenjaku presents himself as an agent of change, but he actually has no interest in many of the modern sorcerers and holds a bias towards the heian era as the peak of sorcery. He even says that he's going to bring back the Heian Golden Age to Sukuna at the end of Shibuya arc.

Because that's what Chaos is Kenjaku, things being the same as they were 1,000 years ago. Kenjaku is an agent of change and chaos and somehow his definition of change is... resetting things back to the past because the sorcerers of the past were so much better than today.

Kenjaku goes out of his way to awaken hundreds of modern day sorcerers, and then dismisses literally off of them except for Hiromi because they don't have enough potential for him compared to ancient sorcerers. He essentially did the same with the Death Painting Bros, he went through all of the trouble to create them, then dismissed them as not having enough potential BEFORE THEY EVEN GOT THE CHANCE TO GROW UP.

Kenjaku has a habit of just going BORED NOW and leaving before he even gives things the time to impress him. He does the same with the Culling Game, he set up the death game to push sorcerers to fight each other and bring out their powers, but he never actually intended to watch the sorcerers evolve. He just wanted to slaughter everyone inside to start the merger.

He goes through a lot of potential to set up these situations and then abandons them before they have the chance to even evolve, because they do not have enough "potential" in his opinion, but like his opinion is often shown to be wrong. Takaba represents that blindspot because he was one of the modern sorcerers that Kenjaku underestimated and dismissed offhand as boring without giving him a chance to shine.

That is the joke that Takaba introduces himself with "Wouldn't it be funny if a random comic relief side character suddenly defeated the big bad?"

He's immediately pointing out a blindspot, because Kenjaku automatically believes himself to be an important character, he underestimates Takaba because he's a side character, one of the people Kenjaku has dismissed as boring and uninteresting (before they even had a chance to evolve into something else). Like that's the other thing Kenjaku wants things to evolve but he doesn't... let them. He abandoned Choso and the rest before they even grew up, they were literally fetuses and he threw them away. Kenjaku is the protagonist of reality, and Takaba is a side character, and therefore Takaba couldn't possibly harm him because Kenjaku and his boundless curiosity are the center of the world.

It's not just about subverting the audience's expectations to have the main villain die in such an anti-climactic way before the final act even starts, but it's pointing out how narrow Kenjaku's viewpoints really were all along. He wants everything to be surprised but he never lets anything surprise him, because either he gets bored right away, or he looks down on others before giving them the chance to evolve, or the third thing he just straight up has to control everything. He can't let the culling game evolve naturally he's going to slaughter all the players by hand so he can move onto the next part.

It's the contradiction between a schemer who needs to control everything and everyone to bring about his intended result and everything needs to be a part of his big plans, to someone who wants to be surprised by others and have things go off the rails. You can't have both of these things at once, Kenjaku cannot have things surprise him if he rigs everything to go his way with his overly elaborate schemes and his tight-fisted control of everyone in the story.

Like, in comparison to Kenjaku the joker just blows things up and sprays people with laughing gas. They're both playing the same game but the joker is having fun and Kenjaku isn't.

Kenjaku wants an unexpected future, but he doesn't care about any of the modern sorcerers and has a bias towards the heiean era that he considers the height and wants to reset things to bring back the heian era. He wants to be surprised but won't give up control.

Kenjaku's boast is that unlike Tengen he's spent a thousand years living on the ground instead of lording up on them from above like some deity, but is that true? Has Kenjaku lived? Has he engaged with the world? Formed relationships with people? Or does he just sit in the corner rubbing his hands together menacingly and scheming his schemes.

Takaba unironically gives Kenjaku what he wants, something he's never seen before in a thousand years, and it's from a place Kenjaku never expected. Some random guy, who he dismissed as one of the boring modern sorcerers with no potential like Higuruma.

Takaba not only exists in Kenjaku's blindspot, he almost immediately points out Kenjaku's second hypocrisy. If he's willing to resort to mass murder just to feel entertained, then if he found something else to entertain him there'd be no reason to get violent and scheme his schemes.

In other words Kenjaku hasn't really gone looking for other places to try to find what makes life worth living, or at least enertaining, he hasn't really tried any alternatives to finding joy in life because Jujutsu is all he cares about. Takaba says that if he found something else even more entertaining than the merger there'd be no need to go through with the merger, and he turns out to be right. Kenjaku could have found meaning and entertainment with the world someplace else, he was just too narrow minded and never looked anywhere else.

As I said from the beginning Kenjaku's existential crisis comes from his inability to relate to other people and viewing them all as objects, but in Kenjaku's mind of course he can't relate to others they're too boring, so therefore it's the world's fault, and the fault of others and not himself.

However, right away one of those boring people starts relating to Kenjaku.

I joked about how we know nothing about the Gojo clan but Takaba gets an entire backstory chapter about his failed comedy career, but this chapter is plot important because jokes are the way that Takaba relates to and forms relationships with other people. Takaba makes jokes to relate to others but has a fallout with a comedy partner and has never been able to form a lasting relationship with a comedic partner because comedy doesn't mean the same to them as it does to him - because to Takaba comedy is about forming relationships with people. Which is why he thinks he's failed if he's failed to make everyone in the audience laugh because he wants to make comedy that will make other people relate to him and understand him.

However, he almost gives up on comedy because he's afraid that he might fail on that endeavor. He gives up on striving to make everybody in the audience laugh, because of self-affirmation and a desire to protect himself. He didn't want to fail so he started distancing himself from the audience under the excuse "Well, I can't make everyone laugh so it's okay if not everyone understands me."

Takaba at some point gave up on trying to use comedy as a means of understanding and relating to others, because of his fear of failure and at that point he nearly lost - but he rallies himself by saying that he won't give up on making someone like Kenjaku laugh. If his comedy is about connecting to others, about understanding others and having others understand him then he can't just give up on Kenjaku and say it's Kenjaku's fault that Kenjaku can't relate to his sense of humor. He's got to try even harder to make Kenjaku laugh.

This is also pretty much the opposite of Kenjaku's point of view. For Kenjaku it's everyone else's fault for being so boring that's why he can't relate to them. Wheras, Takaba takes personal responsibility, he wasn't funny enough, he has to try harder, he's the one who's going to make Kenjaku laugh by improving himself. Takaba looks inward, and Kenjaku looks outwards because there's nothing inside Kenjaku.

This is a parallel to this.

The difference however, is that Sukuna did not betray his ideology. Sukuna lives for the kicks that battle provides him and wants to face strong opponents so he can eventually devoured them and be momentarily entertained.

Like Sukuna is not bored the way Kenjaku is. The world is his playground. He may refer to living as just killing time until you die, but he also says that there's an infinite variety of humans to entertain yourself with. The world is Sukuna's toybox and he's satisfied with just that. In fact he doesn't even care about the merger, until his frustration with Yuji makes him think a little deeper about himself.

Kenjaku is not the Sukuna in this scene, he's the Gojo. He believed he was above others, only to be reminded suddenly that he was just the same as everyone else and brought back down to humanity. I mean, they even die off panel the same anticlimactic way. Gojo's infinity meant nothing in the face of one surprise attack a world-cleaving slash Gojo didn't see coming. All of Kenjaku's backup plans meant nothing in the face of Yuta camping and kill-stealing.

Kenjaku didn't lose because Yuta's plan of camping and killstealing was simply too brilliant for him to prepare for however, we're given the exact reason kenjaku lost - because he was having too much fun with Takaba.

Which meant what Takaba said earlier was true, if Kenjaku found something funnier, something other than the merger that could make him laugh there'd be no need to go through with the merger to begin with.

Kenjaku loses because all along he could have related to people, formed meaningful relationships with others, looked for meaning in life outside of Jujutsu but just chose not to. Which is also a parallel to this.

Sukuna says that Kashimo and Gojo both lost because they were greedy. They already received love in a way, they had the love of everyone who regarded them as the strongest, they had people who earnestly wanted to challenge them and respected them - which Sukuna sees as a form of love, and yet they still wanted more.

They were the ones who put themselves up on that pedestal and decided to stand above all of humanity, they don't get to whine about being lonely on top of that.

To add my interpretation to Sukuna's speech, what he's outlining is a general conflict in Jujutsu Kaisen, you can choose to be all ego to put personal development above everything else but it comes at the cost of not being able to form relationships. Maki's as powerful as Toji now, but the sister she always wanted to protect is dead and basically committed suicide. Meanwhile Noritoshi Kamo didn't participate in the final battle, but he reconnected with his mother and half-brother.

There are plenty of characters who die and suffer in jujutsu kaisen because they chose to value other people above themselves, because Jujutsu Kaisen rewards selfishness and punishes selflessness / having an underdeveloped sense of self.

I'll pick Mechamaru as my biggest example, he lived to protect Miwa, and not only does he die an unsatisfying death, he also breaks her heart.

However, at least Mechamaru experienced love. His desire to protect Miwa is granted, because Miwa is also out of the final conflict. Mechamaru is one of the most miserable characters in the manga, and yet he experienced love in his life for someone else that made his brief life meaningful. The characters who choose love, and other people over strength tend to get stepped on, but they at least had that love in their life to begin with.

It's a having your cake and eating it too situation. Kashimo chose strength over love, and he got to be so strong he was unbeatable and lived to old age, but not only is he unfulfilled but he whines about being unable to relate to the people around him - you're the one who chose to step on everyone like bugs.

Characters in Jujutsu Kaisen don't just experience death when they try to be selfless however, like yeah there's a disproportionate amont of selfless minor characters who die, but like Yuji is the most selfless character in the manga and he's continually punished for it and yet he's the one referred to as a person with an unbreakable will.

Rather instead of Jujutsu Kiasen preferring the selfish side on the scale of selfishness / selflessness, the kind of messy, deaths that get handed out to people like Mechamaru happen when you betray the ideals you were living for. Whether they were selfish or selfless.

It goes back to Toji's internal monologue. You lose when you lose sight of yourself - like there's some deaths that don't fit the mould but for the most part, Gojo, Kashimo, Toji's and then Kenjaku's deaths all follow this pattern. By coincidence they also all take place offscreen for the most part (I suppose we see Yuta cut off Kenjaku's head but it's quick and unsatisfying compared to all the rest).

Kenjaku died because he betrayed what he was living for and he temporarily lost sight of himself. As I said Kenjaku's airtight principles were that everyone was boring and people weren't worth relating too so the only way to find enertainment in life is to cause chaos - but he found himself relating to some nobody he wrote off as a minor character Takaba and having fun with him. Which meant the belief he was false, he could have tried relating to other people all along he just didn't.

He warped his sense of self to reaffirm his identity. Takaba almost did that too, he tried to blame other people for not finding him funny to protect himself, but he moved past that and redoubled his efforts to make Kenjaku laugh.

There's also the added layer of irony that Kenjaku's sudden death brings about, the person who spent a thousand years trying to make the merger happen doesn't get to see it.

However, here's my assertion on why Kenjaku's death before the merger always had to happen.

Because, even if Kenjaku had seen the merger he still would have been bored.

Literally everything about Kenjaku's character and previous actions shows that even if he made his big scheme come true, he would have gone "meh" and moved onto the next scheme because that's how he always reacts.

He got bored of the death painting siblings, he presumably got bored of Yuji, he got bored of all the ancient sorcerers and new sorcerers he made for the culling game, he worked with the disaster curses and got bored of them and dismissed them as inferior primitive curses, he goes out of the way to engineer these chaotic situations and then never feels any satisfaction from them so why would the Merger be any different?

Not only did Kenjaku die before he saw the merger, he was basically doomed to never see the merger, because it would not have fixed whatever is wrong inside of him.

Because it's not the world that's boring, it's Kenjaku himself.

He gets a brief glimpse of what he could have done in life, that he could have tried to forge connections with the people around him and related to them on a personal level - and then he dies the way he lived, in a kind of boring and unsatisfying way.

It's the narrative punishing him in a way, the same way it punished Gojo, and Kashimo, by not letting him see the big explosion after he went to all the trouble rigging the bombs. It's punishing him for the same reason too - by deviating from his true self and showing what he thought were his reasons were shallow all along. Gojo could have always related to people he just chose to stand on his pedestal alone, and Kenjaku could have always found the world to be more enertaining he was the one dismissing other people as boring without giving them a chance to grow.

Takaba confronted his beliefs and then stayed true to his ideology of making everyone, 100% of the people in the crowd laugh. Kenjaku didn't confront his beliefs, he strayed from them because he didn't have the strength of character to evaluate himself the way Takaba did.

Hence, he's finished off by one of those boring people who used their power in a way he never expected. The main villain is defeated by the comic relief character and it's hilarious.

[kanencrow]

Can you write gwen stacy x fem reader when her spider-sense goes off and realizes that you're in danger ( also, can it angst in the beginning, then turn into comfort I would like that very much)

Just Be Careful - Across The Spiderverse | One Shot

A/N: Got you! I'm not extremely well-versed (no pun intended) in writing angst, so I hope I did your request some justice!

SUMMARY: After getting into an argument with Gwen, you leave to try and clear your head. However, what once was a walk that was meant as your way of calming down, quickly turned into a life-or-death situation with a group of thugs, who were up to no good. 

WARNINGS: All characters are 18+. Swearing, Angst/Comfort, Weapons, Descriptive Physical Violence.

WORD COUNT: 3400+

Gwen hated getting into fights with you. 

They didn’t at all compare to the ones she would have with the typical criminal that roamed Chelsea, New York. Those were physical altercations, and it always ended with her winning and feeling accomplished, because she got rid of a genuinely bad person. The ones she had with you were sometimes heated, and although there was that urgency to try and win the argument, it never felt like she succeeded. Even if her opinions on the matter the two of you disagreed on made more sense than yours, she still disliked the fact that you and her couldn’t have had a calm conversation about your different stances. 

Maybe it was stress this time that so easily tipped you over the edge and caused you to become so angry with her. Intermixing school and work was the worst concoction to have. The blonde tried her hardest to understand what might have been going on with you. Maybe she should have just pushed away her desire to get her point across, and simply asked you what the deeper reason for your frustration was. But she couldn’t. Not now, at least. You had left the apartment. You slammed the door and it felt like it rattled the entire building.

It didn’t take a genius to gather that you were pissed off. 

And, from what she had gathered, it was all because of the fact that Gwen wasn’t understanding your concern for her. You knew she was Spider-Woman. You found out early on, and it was due to the fact that she had crawled through the window of your shared apartment one night to try and be sneaky. But you were pulling an all-nighter, and so as you sat on the couch, watching TV, you just about had a heart attack when you saw this random woman in a tight black, white, and pink suit come into your apartment. You screamed, she screamed. You threw your box of popcorn at her, she – surprisingly – webbed it to the wall before it could even hit her, and then it was a domino effect from there. 

When she eventually showed you that she was the one and only Spider-Woman, you freaked out. And you had every right to, she thought. Hearing the news, reading the newspaper and seeing all of the things Gwen got herself into, it instilled a lot of worry in your chest, because you were well aware that this superhero of New York was getting herself into a lot of crazy situations. And they were ones that could have easily gotten her killed. And so that was where your concern came from. 

The weighing dread of responsibilities didn’t help your mood, however. And so as you thought about what had happened at that apartment, you felt a little guilty for the way you blew up on her. Your last words consisted of, ‘I don’t want to see your face for the rest of the fucking day,’ and of course, she came back with her own two sense, that only caused you to scoff in turn and slam the door shut before she could truly finish her retort. Something along the lines of, ‘you won’t be thinking that when you need me to save your ass.’ 

At first, you thought that the statement was belligerent and arrogant. 

But now, you didn’t really think so. 

Staring down the barrel of a gun wasn’t on your to-do list for the day. The man who held it shook the weapon impatiently while he yelled at you, but with the way your heart pounded, it caused your hearing to only pick up the rhythmic drum of the organ. You could feel yourself losing air as anxiety washed over you like a heavy tsunami, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get yourself to fall out of your frozen state. 

Clearly, it was causing the thug anger, and the two goons that had joined him also showed their own feelings of frustration. When one of them lunged forward and gripped the collar of your shirt to shove you into the wall, the other smacked the metal of their bat onto the brick surface you had been slammed up against, right beside your head. You flinched, rightfully so, but surprisingly, it seemed to be the thing that snapped you back into reality. Voices, gruff and cold, came back to your senses, and you could eventually hear the bustling of the dark New York streets from the alley you were stuck in, as well as the shaky breaths that slipped from your lips. 

“Either you give us everything you fuckin’ got, or I’ll beat your skull in!” You flinched when the man who gripped the collar of your shirt harshly smacked your cheek. It caused your head to turn and for a pained gasp to escape you, as a heated stinging sensation spread across the right side of your face. The hand that fell onto you was rough and callous, which only made the feeling all the more excruciating, though you weren’t able to dwell on it when a heavy fist suddenly slammed itself into your gut. 

All the air inside of your lungs vanished as a bloom of agony spread throughout your abdomen. Your eyes were quick to snap shut, and you unwillingly showed your pain when you clutched your stomach with your arms and fell to the ground. Your knees slammed against the cold cement of the alley way, and before you could even regather yourself, a boot planted itself against your shoulder and shoved you to the floor. You weren’t able to stop your teetering body, due to the power of the push, and so the moment the rest of your form hit the ground, your head was quick to follow. 

The feeling of your skull cracking against the concrete wasn’t pleasant. Even the men who gathered around you hesitated to continue their assault. Though, when you let out a weak groan and rolled yourself to lay on your back, that seemed to be the thing that pushed the muggers back onto the task of robbing you blind. Before you could even react, you felt grimy hands grab onto your body, searching through the pockets of your pants, while a pair of footsteps moved past you to search through the backpack you had dumbly brought with you when you left the apartment earlier. 

As much as you didn’t want them to steal everything that you had, you lacked the strength to do anything about it. You felt them rummage for your wallet, your keys, the single dollar bills you had, if you ever needed cash for something. Your pockets soon became voidless pits. You could hear their voices, even as the world around you spun like some extremely fast merry-go-round. You didn’t know what they were saying. However, you could notice the way their tones switched from calm to panicked and terrified in the matter of minutes. 

“In this day and age, you’re still robbing people in alleyways?!” 

You knew who had voiced the quip without even needing to see their face. The zipping of webs and grunts filled your ears as you stared up at the sky, and in your daze, you noted the way the walls of the alleyway slightly closed in, which almost covered the sight of the moon that illuminated the world. Scuffling of boots and a surprisingly high-pitched yelp echoed to your left, which caused you to lull your head to the side, only to see one of the men who had attacked you slam against the wall, as a glob of spider string spread across his chest to keep him there. 

It wasn’t difficult to find out where the other culprits of your less than ideal state had gone. Hanging from the balcony of a fire exit, the two men were wrapped within a cocoon of webbing. They struggled in their confinements, and you would have laughed at the sight, if your head hadn’t felt like someone drilled into it with a power tool. 

Even though you left on a terrible note earlier in the day, you were elated when you saw the familiar figure of Spider-Woman drop down from wherever she had been perched. She landed against the cement like a graceful ballerina, but she was swift in popping up to her full height and rushing over to you the moment she saw that you were still laying on the floor. “Shit shit shit–!” You could hear her voice, albeit muffled, and the way she was clearly concerned for your wellbeing. The expletives that leaked out of her mouth from behind her mask made the corner of your lip quirk slightly, amused. Though, the expression quickly vanished once you felt how sore your jaw had become, just from the simple action.

However, when Gwen knelt down to your side and cradled your face with her covered hands, you felt the pain that surrounded your head subtly dissipate. The way they touched you with a profound amount of comfort, compared to what you had dealt with only moments prior. Her palm was gentle in the way that it moved to cradle the back of your skull. Still, you couldn’t prevent the groan that bubbled within your throat from slipping out. “I’m sorry,” you impulsively uttered, even though speaking seemed to be too much, with the way your abdomen uncomfortably throbbed.  

“Please don’t start apologizing like you’re dying,” Gwen told you worriedly, as you felt her hands move away from your head. As much as you wanted to, you weren’t able to say anything in response, before you felt her arms slide under your body, and hoist you up. You let your own limb lazily loop around the back of her neck as she held you against her chest, and in the process, you couldn’t help but to glance down at the cement you had just used as your temporary resting place. You didn’t miss it, and honestly, you were only checking to see if you had left any blood behind.

You didn’t, thankfully. 

And so, it didn’t take long before you turned your focus back towards Gwen, and even though her face was covered by the mask she wore to hide her identity, you could still feel the worry that radiated off of her, with the way she stared down at you. It was dark out, yet with the moon shining down, and the artificial lights from buildings and signs radiating their glow across the walls of the alleyway, it wasn’t difficult to see her. “Thank you,” you eventually muttered, but all you got in turn was a wave of silence.

She nodded her head passively, before she spoke up. “Let’s just… go home.” She ignored your apology, which conveyed that she clearly wasn’t wanting to hash out your issues in a disgusting alleyway, while a trio of similarly disgusting burglars watched on. You understood, though a part of you had wished to receive the reassurance that things were okay between the two of you. 

You knew it wasn’t that easy, however. 

— — — — — —

You let Gwen carry you home under the guise of Spider-Woman, and you practically fell asleep due to how smooth of a journey it was. The trip was silent, full of pondering thoughts that circled throughout both of your minds. You slowly came to the realization that you were overly harsh when you had left, and the blonde had eventually come to terms with the fact that she was being way too hard-headed for her own good. She could have easily used the excuse that it was a trait she got from her dad, but it wouldn’t have made the situation any better, and she was well aware of that. 

Gwen let you go through the window of the apartment first, and you almost fell into the room, due to the unbearable soreness you felt surrounding your abdomen and head. Luckily, your girlfriend was quick to slip into the room right after you, and your arm was silently slung over her shoulders as she walked you towards the bathroom with her own limb secured around your waist. 

As much as you didn’t want to be the one to break the silence, you felt a wave of amusement fill your chest when Gwen helped you up onto the bathroom counter. “Well, this is romantic,” you mumbled, as you settled yourself onto the granite and fidgeted with your scraped up hands, all while you slightly swung your bruised legs back and forth. Sarcasm dripped from your tone when you spoke, but you could tell that the woman in front of you wasn’t pleased with your attempt at being comical. 

Gwen sighed and tugged the hood of her outfit down from hanging over her head. The moment she slipped her mask off of her face, she shook her head to settle her messy blonde hair back to normal, though she didn’t show a shred of joy in the action. For the first time in what felt like forever, your eyes eventually met her blue ones, and it didn’t take a magnifying glass to notice the shiny look in her gaze. The amusement you once held within your chest swiftly vanished, and a deep frown overtook your features as you watched her set her belongings next to you, before she moved close and wrapped her arms around your body. 

You felt your head press against the middle of her chest when her hand came up to pull you into her. The embrace that she gave you was tight, and you were quick to reciprocate it, as your own limbs moved up to hug around her waist. Her face moved down to bury itself in your hair as she squeezed your form, and you couldn’t stop yourself from closing your eyes when a wave of comfort washed over you. She seemed to find solace in the touch when she breathed you in and let out a shaky exhale, which caused your heart to squeeze even more than it already had, as your fingers scratched along her back, attempting to calm her silent worry. 

“I shouldn’t have let you leave. Not while we were still mad at each other,” Gwen mumbled, her voice muffled. “I tried looking for you when you did, but you just… you just vanished, and then I felt that you were in danger and I…” She trailed off and pulled back from the hug to look you in the eye. Her hands moved from behind your back to gently cup your face, and she furrowed her eyebrows in sorrow as your chin angled up to meet her concerned gaze. “I thought you died.” She shook her head and rubbed the pad of her thumb along your cheek, just barely grazing over the bruise that had formed on your skin, which caused her focus to flicker towards it for a moment. “I’m sorry for not listening to you. I know you care, but I guess I just felt like you didn’t trust that I could keep myself safe.” 

“I do trust you, Gwen,” you quickly replied, as your hands came up to hold onto her wrists. You didn’t try to push her palms away from your cheeks, though you made sure to give that part of her body a gentle squeeze, as a way to silently assure her that you weren’t upset. “And I know that you’ve got these crazy superhuman abilities because of what happened with you and that spider – which is still a story that I don’t understand–” You cut yourself off before you started rambling about an entirely different thing. A sigh slipped from your lips. “But… the point is that… even though you have the strength to lift – like, two cars or something, and the durability that allows you to get flung into a building a bunch of times without obtaining so much as a scratch… that still doesn’t mean you’re invincible,” you clarified, “I don’t want to come home one day, turn on the news, and find out that Spider-Woman – my Spider-Woman is dead.” 

Gwen frowned, “That won’t happen.” 

You pulled her hands away from your face and clutched them between your own as they fell into your lap. “But you don’t know that.” You shook your head and clenched your jaw, feeling a sense of worry hit your chest. “That’s what I’m so scared of. That your confidence will turn into arrogance,” you admitted, your voice soft. “I just don’t want it to be your downfall. That’s all.” You paused to gauge her reaction, but she only lowered her gaze and looked at the floor, as she slowly nodded her head. “I understand that crime-fighting is – basically – your full-time job, but I just need you to promise me that you’ll try not to let that confidence get to your head.” 

“I’ve gotten hurt many times before,” Gwen muttered, “I’ve healed… I always heal.” 

“But what happens when someone manages to get to your heart? Or another organ that could determine whether you live or die?” She remained silent, and you squeezed her hands tightly, trying to make your statement hold more weight to it. “You’ve gotten hurt before, but what if the next time, it’s fatal?” The question was rhetorical, and when she didn’t respond, it allowed you to continue. “All I’m asking, Gwen, is that you just try to be careful. Because I know you’re not all the time, and that’s what scares me.” 

Gwen knew that you were right. Just like every other Spider-Man in existence, she was also one that got herself into close calls with her fair share of what she called villains of the week. At first, she never truly worried about it. However, now, the reality of being in a relationship – while also being Spider-Woman – was hitting her hard. For the sake of helping you sleep at night, she needed to think about the consequences of her actions, which felt ironic, considering she had said similar things to the bad men and women she locked up. 

What goes around comes around, she thought. 

Although she was an extremely stubborn individual, Gwen could see the pleading look in your eyes, which was the ultimate thing that cracked her.

With a long, heavy sigh, she eventually relented, as her shoulders slumped, and a slightly exhausted expression fell onto her pale features. “Okay, okay…” She trailed off, before she pulled her hands out of the hold you had them in, and rested them back onto your cheeks. “I’ll be more careful from now on.” You felt her press a firm kiss to your forehead, and just as you were about to speak up and give her your thanks, she pulled back and held onto your chin with her fingers. “You too, though,” she added, which made your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I don’t want to see all this on your pretty face.” She gestured towards the bruising that had developed on your skin, which caused you to lightheartedly scoff. 

“Well, now you know how I feel when I see you come back from a fight all beat up,” you retorted. "And besides, it wasn't like I asked to be robbed in an alleyway."

Gwen pressed her lips together, before she pursed them in understanding and nodded her head. “Okay. Touche. You’ve got me there.” You shrugged, as if to silently say ‘I know,’ and instead of the usual quip you would have received from your girlfriend in response to your reaction, all she gave you instead was a loving stare that portrayed comfort. “Okay,” she hummed, before she let go of your face and stepped back to grab a medical box she had laying around… somewhere. “Let’s get you fixed up.” 

You stared at your partner for a few moments, watching as she scrounged through drawers and cabinets in an attempt to find where she had misplaced her medkit. Although the wounds on your skin slowly started to hurt, you couldn’t help but smile softly at the dorkiness she exuded. You yourself still had yet to apologize, but in that moment, you made a mental note to do so the moment she wasn’t too busy worrying about patching you up. 

Couples fought. It was a normal thing. 

You were just glad that it didn’t end everything.

[aspenaspenaspenaspenaspen]

I don’t like how the Sokeefe confession went down, because it felt so abrupt compared to the build up of the series.

I think this because the whole series it’s Keefe who’s loved Sophie since the beginning, Keefe who hinted his feelings and flirted with her, and Keefe who couldn’t confess. And it was Sophie who couldn’t figure out her feelings and was oblivious to his. So it felt strange that though Keefe technically confessed first in the letter he left, it was Sophie who initiated the actual confession.

I understand that all the build up for Sophie confessing was in Stellarlune, but it just didn’t fit with the rest of the series, and honestly, felt unfair to Keefe (from a readers stand point, I’m sure he’s very happy in cannon). He should have been the one to confess.

I’ve heard people complaining that Chapter 42 was written like a fan fiction, and I disagree with this statement for two reasons, one that I think this is supposed to be insulting the actual writing of the scene, and I would never insult Shannon Messangers writing, and two because I don’t like to spread that fanfic writing is bad because fan fiction can have some amazing writing.

However I can see the similarities to Chapter 42 and fanfiction. As an avid reader of fanfiction, a reader can tell when the fanfic author is just writing a confession as a way to get the characters to kiss, the confession may be abrupt without a lot of build up, but also may just be very easy and quick. And that’s sort of how I felt reading the Sokeefe confession. It felt too easy for all the build up and angst and unrequited but eventually requited love that is Sokeefe.

Keefe should have been the one to confess, and Sophie should of had a harder time accepting feelings instead of pining for Keefe the entirety (?) or Stellarlune, and it should have been more difficult. Also Ro shouldn’t have been peer pressuring Sophie….

….And that’s the real controversial take here. Because, I do genuinely believe Sophie likes Keefe in cannon. I’m not a big Sokeefe shipper but I saw where this was going throughout the series. However in cannon, to the reader, it looks like Ro had to convince Sophie that she liked Keefe, and even if I think she does, it still feels like peer pressure when reading it. And I think Keefe would also be disappointed if he heard that it was Ro who convinced Sophie that she like him, because it should have been Sophie battling with her own feelings, not Ro telling her how she feels (regardless of if she was correct).

If I were to rewrite the Sokeefe part of Stellarlune, I would’ve have Sophie understanding that part of the letter, but pushing down her feelings and choosing to be oblivious in order to avoid facing her feelings when she already has so much going on. Have her think about Keefe while he’s gone, and be jealous of Biana (or suspicious whatever you’d call it) in that one scene but have her obviously be falsely justifying it in order to push down those romantic feelings.

Then when she does find Keefe, make her avoid mentioning the letter at all costs. Have it hang over their heads at every moment their alone together, have it be awkward. Then, on accident have her mention the letter. Let there be a pause.

Let Keefe be a bit bitter about Sophie refusing to acknowledge anything. Have him be all like “oh so you did see the letter.”

Have Sophie still refuse to talk about it. “yeah, I guess I was so distracted with trying to find you I didn’t really think about it (lying). was there anything important in there?”

Have Keefe’s eyes turn dark “no, I guess not. (lying)” and have him rudely stalk of.

Then later have them doing something for the black swan with their friends, looking over scrolls, idk research or something.

Have Sophie be frustrated after the scrolls don’t tell them anything important. “why can’t the author of these just tell us what this means?” She should grumble

And Keefe should say “well maybe you should read between the lines to figure out what they mean.”

Sophie throws down the scroll in her hands “well maybe people should just say what they mean instead of writing it down in a way that can mean anything!!” Keefe sets down his scroll, walking off outside. No one else knows what’s going on but Sophie sighs and follows him out.

“Keefe! Wait!” She shouts. Keefe would whirl around, tears in his eyes.

“Don’t you think I’ve waited long enough?”

Sophie stares at him, surprised that he’s crying.

“I’ve waited this whole time to because I didn’t want to pressure you. But you can’t even acknowledge it.”

“Because I don’t know what “it” is! You left, and you leave me this note, and I’m just supposed to understand what it means?”

“You know what it means! Why else would I write it?”

“You wrote it because you were leaving-“

“I WROTE IT BECAUSE I LOVE YOU”

“YOU WROTE IT BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT YOU’D NEVER SEE ME AGAIN!”

Suddenly there are tears in Sophie’s eyes too. “You’re accusing me of avoiding all this but you were just as willing to! You didn’t want to confront me with your feelings so you wrote down your confession, but now you’re back and all you can do is shout it at me.”

Keefe takes a step closer, his eyes wide.

“How am I supposed to know you mean it if you don’t say it?” Sophie looks down, tugging at an eyelash.

Keefe takes another step closer, taking her hand in his. His voice is croaky and wet but each word is clear.

“Sophie Foster…I love you.”

And that’s when it all hits Sophie, because that’s everything she needed to hear and all the things she’s been stuffing down comes up and hits her all at once, and she physically stumbles into Keefe.

“Foster?” Keefe asks, catching her. Sophie looks up and makes eye contact with him.

“I think I’ve just fallen for you.” (The joke is that she actually fell over. In case it wasn’t clear.)

[mdhwrites]

May I ask your opinion about Camila as a mother? To me, she is a great mom with good writing. My only gripe is in the first ep when she's okay with Luz discarding her Azura book in the trashcan. It's Manny's gift for Luz.

This one is... Complicated. And I think we're gonna disagree hard on it just by what you consider your one gripe to be.

What is a parent's duty? This is a very, very important question to ask with this. Because, you know, as a friend, Camila is amazing. She's endlessly patient, endlessly kind, I call her a saint because she is just perfect. She has no flaws by the end of the show and scolds herself for the literal ONE TIME she ever tries to reign Luz in.

Reminder: In the first episode, Luz brings wild animals and fireworks to school without permission or without any regard to safety. She inadvertently assaulted MULTIPLE PEOPLE with those snakes because we see more than just the principle being attacked by them. We also know this isn't a first time thing because of the SPIDER SWARM. If I had been in the classroom with Luz for the spider swarm, I would have had a straight up panic attack because I, like many others, have arachnophobia.

A parent's core job, only below keeping their child alive, is to prepare them for the world. To make sure they understand right from wrong, that they understand how society works and how to handle it, how to be themselves while not hurting others, etc. like that. I'm not saying that they must make their children conform but, you know, people still have to be a part of society. To know when their freedoms come against others. Because, sure, you can release spiders into a classroom but when half the parents of the students in that class want you expelled, that is entirely in their right because you did not consider, for a second, anyone other than yourself.

At this, Camila is an abject failure by the end of the show. She actually starts really good though. Now, throwing away Manny's gift is... Yeah, that's real questionable but also Azura being from him feels like a complete retcon, especially since Luz doesn't actually hold that series that close to her. She is a pretty flighty fan and in S2, Amity does WAY more for being excited about Azura than Luz does which, you know, is kind of odd if this memento of her father means that much to her. No, in the context of S1, it's the right move. Luz has crossed the line where she is treating reality like fantasy. She thinks she can just do this stuff and it'll be fine because her perception is at best flawed. So yes, Luz needs to wake up. She needs a chance to get a reality check and Camila doesn't even ask for a huge one. She will be happy if Luz makes friends because in order to make friends, you have to meet them halfway, start showing real compassion, empathy, etc. like that, traits Luz is tragically devoid of early on. It's a good goal for not pressuring Luz too hard.

And then Luz goes to a magical world where she gets to live out the life of an isekai protagonist who by the end of the series is willing to condemn an entire world to death just because she's afraid of making another mistake and having to pay for the consequences of it. To say that's missing the point is a bit of an understatement. And I cannot emphasize this enough. She decides on her own, because she feels bad for having made a decision on her own that went poorly, to avoid all consequences for that decision and just stay home with her loving mom while leaving her friends ostensibly to go die because she admits herself that the Collector is terrifyingly powerful. That is not martyrdom, that's self pity with the veneer of sacrifice. It is still not an empathetic worldview that cares about others, reinforced in For the Future where she goes "I'm going to check and make sure King and Eda are okay and then I'm going home." She talks a much bigger game to Boscha but to her mom who knows the truth? It's to check on the people SHE cares about and then leave. All of them. The whole world doesn't matter to her. That's fucked up.

And THAT is the version of Luz that Camila APOLOGIZES to. And for what? Sending her to camp which was her just trying to get Luz to properly connect with reality ONCE. Because again, otherwise Camila has endless patience. She never brings up the promise after all, she doesn't question taking in these kids or the weird lizard girl who's been impersonating her daughter, Camila defends Luz's creativity at every step, etc. etc. She is Luz's biggest defender in the series... And still apologizes for the one time she criticizes her. The one time she arguably does her job as a mom.

That to me makes her a bad mom. Arguably, even worse than Odalia. Odalia is a WAY worse person, but as a mom? I've made blogs about the fact that the fandom projects a lot onto her, incorrectly so, and that by the standards of her own society, she is mostly just trying to protect Amity and help her succeed. Oh, what terrible goals! Yes, she's too controlling and applies too much pressure BUT AT LEAST SHE'S TRYING. And if it feels like I talk a lot more about Luz in this blog than Camila... Well, it's a parent. Their job is to raise children. So we have to look at the child as a part of the evaluation.

And Luz? Luz needed a parent, not the two friends she got out of Eda and Camila. But apparently a parent is not what anyone wants. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I do want to add that I don't know where to put the fact that Camila is a single mom here because it's very complicated. It's good on her that she has the income to let Luz have expensive hobbies, do what she wants, have a house to live in, be there for all of Luz's events, meetings, etc. like that. She replicates what two parents give pretty much all the other kids in the show so well that it feels more like an oversight than anything else. Also, yes, it's good that Camila keeps Luz happy and healthy but that doesn't really change the fact that she is failing to raise Luz despite having all this time and resources to facilitate keeping Luz happy. However, I've seen the problem with that as a kid's parent would just let them watch tv and play video games with them and left it up to the kid's grandma to treat them how to read and write. Guess what activity made the kid happy versus what activity helped the kid grow as a person. And yes, that parent WAS a single mom and I judged them harshly then too.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[notur-dreamboy]

Assinging the endless to dead boy detectives characters because I can. (With explanations using a mix of comic and tv show lore)

Edwin - dream This was a hard choice, and while Despair was the more Canon choice as she claimed him as her friend in the 7th episode. Alternatively, I like exploring the similarities in dream and Edwin's character arch. In the comics edwin died in 1916 and escaped hell in 1989 much like the show, in the comics dream was kidnapped from 1916-1989 as opossed to the show where he escapes in 2020 or 2021 (I am unsure as to which one) they also both go through archs of finding companionship/acecpting people into their life and finding a greater purpose/finding peace with the one they're given. They're also both the bitchy intellectual type and hate most people.

Charles - destruction. I see so much fan content with him and desire, and while I see the vision, I have to disagree. (I also wanted to save them for the much more obvious choice) Destruction abandoned his position after he saw science being used as a tool for destruction because he didn't want to be the cause of massive devastation or obliteration (paraphrased from destructions page on the sandman wiki) and if that's not so incredibly Charles I don't know what is. Charles arch, we see him deal with this destructive type of anger he wants nothing to do with, so much so he represses all of it with a smile until it becomes too much.

Crystal - destiny. I gave her destiny because her arch and plotting in so intertwined with Edwin and Charles's it feels like it was nothing but destiny. Without her they wouldn't of even noticed the Becky Jackson case, the start of everything. Nothing would've happened without her. Because of her charles faced things he was hiding from himself for years, edwin let other people into his life, they wouldn't of saved niko if Crystal never had that quick interaction with her in episode one. She is so intertwined into everything I wouldn't be surprised if she was crafted by destiny himself.

Niko - death. There are multiple reasons why I gave niko death (including and in spite of the obvious). The biggest one is her future role as the principal, an employee of the afterlife and death. This is also another case of the personalities lining up. Death is seen as welcoming and kind despite being hated and feared as a concept. Death is also seen as wise and understands her role in life she is also the endless dream is closest with. On the sound of her wings when dream is feeling down about his quest for his tools being she allows him to shadow doing her job and offers him advice about his own state. I also just think death and dream's relationship is so similar to niko and Edwin's.

The cat king - desire. Really, this one is obvious. I don't know what you want me to say. His kingdom is all about want and pleasure, wuth is literally desire. His entire role is just to wake edwin up to his own desires. This is such a common concept that the most popular head Canon for him is that he is desires child.

Jenny - despair. I almost gave despair to edwin along with dream given their Canon interaction, but I decided otherwise. We don't know much about Jenny's backstory, but things can be assumed and interpreted certain ways. She owns her family's butcher shop but no family is ever mentioned (outside of a quick anecdote about her father in episode 5 but more on that later), she doesn't seem to have any friends or a social life for that matter. The letters, she reads them and follows up on the but is immediately off put on the idea of a date, which ended horribly. Her father, described as an acholohic and raging narcissist, couldn't have been a man who provided a great childhood either, yet she still took up his butcher shop. We can assume he's out of the picture for one reason or another as Jenny runs the shop herself. The first piece of advice she offers essentially boils down to people who are selfish, it can be assumed this is pulled from personal experience. Jenny is a character surrounded by despair and has grown so comfortable in it she doesn't even notice it anymore.

Tragic mick - delirium. The only endless to have 2 forms, delirium used to be delight before she evolved to delirium for reasons unknown to even destiny. Mick initially seen as comfortable in his human for until we learn about the washer woman. Niko gives him a piece of sea glass in hope it will help but instead we see him descend further into the quite madness he's proven himself into. Then we hear his story, a tragedy about a walrus forec to live the rest of his life as a human because of a bad decision. He's winds up mad (or delirious if you will) by thus decision, now wanting nothing more than to go back to being a walrus.

Bonus (Esther, monty, and the night nurse as various sandman characters) (little explanation, sorry)

Esther- the Corinthian. Created (or blessed) by a god-like deity for a certain purpose but took it too far out of pure selfishness

Monty- Mathew. Simply because they're both anthropomorphic birds.

The night nurse- lucienne/ lucien. A loyal assiant to their respective endless. Certain events cause them to drift from what they've always done or thought.

[bonefall]

May i ask why do you think that Brambleclaw wasn't a good father? not saying i disagree if that is what you think, but why do you? just wondering because i like what you say

Again I hope to have time sometime soon to make a big thing like I did with Breeze, but what gets me about Bramble is that incredibly self-concerned. Like, regularly unable to see past his own feelings to the point where he can't consider his effect on other people.

And Po3 in particular is ALSO trying to frame him like the perfect, most amazing dad in the world. It's for the dramatic irony of the reveal, and to make it EXTRA sad that he's going to abandon his children when he finds out they're adopted... but in the process, they just ignore anything crummy he does. Like he can Do No Wrong.

Particular instances I plan to get into;

When he's angry or disappointed, he's NASTY. He isn't this "super supportive papa" that the Three keep saying he is; he's most supportive when they're making him proud.

He fails to notice that Lionpaw's behavior is getting increasingly violent as a result of his mentor physically abusing him. Is that "Great Dad" material? To not notice your son is struggling?

We eventually learn that Ashfur approached him after one of these savage beatings to butter up to Brambleclaw, insisting that this sort of physical abuse is neccesary because it will give him a strong son.

Stress that again; Ashfur appealed to Brambleclaw's ego so he could keep beating his teenage child. In what world is that "Great Dad" material??

When Hollypaw then tries to tell her dad about how uncomfortable seeing her brother being savaged made her, Bramble tells her... ohh she's So smart, and So so responsible, and he relies on her to keep her brothers in line, and what Ashfur is doing is neccesary.

In any other book series, this would have been a MASSIVE condemnation of Brambleclaw. To be manipulated into allowing his son to get beat, and then turning around to tell his daughter he trusts her to understand it because she's so mature.

But because the Erins like Bramble so very much, it's not acknowledged. Then Ashfur tries to murder these kids later.

And like... again, they want him to be seen as so wonderful and amazing so that it's extra painful when he disowns these kids, but AGAIN, Brambleclaw is supposed to be this incredibly loving, unconditionally loyal, amazingly responsible father...

So how exactly is THAT consistent with abandoning his kids during the most upsetting time of their lives?

Does a wonderful father get consumed by his own pain and humiliation and cut off his kids, one of whom is in the middle of a breakdown? Does he take out his divorce on the children? Is being a "wonderful father" seeing the son you let get abused looking at you, DESPERATELY missing you as his dad, and just turning away?

Or, maybe, being a parent is about being mature. Putting aside your own personal anger or pain or ego to be there for your kids. Something like that???

And yet, he continues to act like that for an entire year. Not improving or self-reflecting at ALL the entire time. When it's miraculously revealed that Hollyleaf isn't DEAD, he's STILL wallowing. The kid he raised came back from the dead but FUCK that, who cares, "what about MY feelings?? Why is no one thinking about whats really important. Meeee."

(Mind you, he was willing to help this same person get away with murder in the last arc. But back then, she was his daughter. Now he doesn't care.)

Eventually SQUIRRELFLIGHT has to tell him that he shouldn't throw away his entire family because he's mad at her. Someone ELSE had to shout it down his thick skull that his bitterness is consuming him and he's ruining his life. Even after a year of punishment, she holds his hand like a big baby and guides him away from his OWN destructive behaviors.

But this isn't about Squilf. This is about Brambleclaw.

He enabled his son's child abuse. The abuser went on to attempt murder of his victim. He IMMEDIATELY turned on the kids he raised when he found out they were secretly adopted, because he was angry at his ex-wife. He only changed because the EX-WIFE told him to cut it out.

That's why I think he's not a great dad. I think talk of his Greatly Dadness are narration wank, and when you look closer, you see a FASCINATINGLY flawed character that the Erins hold back out of WEIRD writer favoritism.

[daonedaonlyskh]

Sk vengeance saga thoughts

SK HAS A THOUGHT (well, multiple) OCUR FOR ONCE

my thoughts on the vengeance saga broken down by song!

be warned that this is long as hell and please don’t get mad at me if you disagree these are just my opinions <3

tw for I’m not sorry for loving you I briefly touch on rape/sa and suicide

I’m not sorry for loving you - Honestly this song is a masterwork. The music, the vocals (wangui i love you), everything. I think it portrays calypso in a very interesting light. I don’t think it makes the listener sympathetic towards her —or it doesn’t for me— but it makes you almost pity her. I know Jorge doesn’t go into detail about what happened in the seven years on the island like it does in the original odyssey (ahem calypso raping and sa’ing him), but I feel like we can assume from what we saw in “love in paradise” that ody ain’t doin so hot. I personally think this had to have something to do with Calypso’s behavior at least somewhat, and I say this because of how in the entire rest of the musical, ody has had so much hope for getting back home to the point where he will not allow himself to give up hope because of how desperately he wants/needs to be home. However, in the end of “love in paradise” we can see that Ody has basically given up all hope, and is literally about to jump off the cliff. Coming back to “I’m not sorry for loving you” now, this song to me definitely comes off as very manipulative. Calypso doesn’t really apologize for her actions towards ody, and just kinda names a few vague ideas and says that she admits that it was wrong, before basically saying that it’s his fault because of the line “then I am sorry that my love is too much for you” practically putting the blame of ody’s despair on ody, that the reason he’s upset his only his own fault, which to me is like saying “why are you so depressed? Just be happy.” On the flip I understand why calypso might have done this, she hasn’t had anyone in her life in so long, and that she feels like this is her only opportunity, so she must cling on to it. On the slip side, Ody has way more self control than me, “but not in the way that you want me to” dude I would not be that calm lmao. In conclusion though, I strongly dislike calypso but that doesn’t mean I don’t think that’s she’s a very complex character that deserves the opportunity to be studied under a microscope.

Dangerous - This song starts out sad af. The way there’s a pause after “cause I had one goal in mind” where the crew used to be singing? I’m sobbing. As we continue on, it gets better (Hermes my beloved). I feel like in this song though, Hermes’s laugh sounds way more forced than it did in “wouldn’t you like.” From this alone we can tell that Hermes knows how much tension there is in this situation, and how much is riding on this. And then he proceeds to sing one of the most catchy choruses & verses ever. His voice sounds a lot less lighthearted in this song though —not that it’s not lighthearted and kinda silly, but just in comparison to “wouldn’t you like” I feel like it sounds a lot more serious. Hermes singing Aeolus’s melody when giving him the wind bag is a really worthwhile touch in my opinion. I also noticed in ody’s little verse he rhymes “dangerous my friend” with “danger is my friend.” And ody saying he’s going to use ruthlessness? Subtle foreshadowing (wink wink). And then Hermes hinting at “god games” to end it off? Chef’s kiss.

Charybdis - I feel stupid for saying this, but the song reminds me of “Storm” from the Ocean saga. I think I draw similarities in the melody and the way the word “Storm”the phrase “Oh o bring it on!” And the last “Ohohohohoh!” In the song. And maybe in the bass and drums a bit too. I haven’t seen anyone else mention this though, but my irl winion friends agreed with me so I’m not sure. I like ody explaining his thoughts is still very melodic. And the end of this song, I like how much softer Ody’s voice gets when seeing the coast of Ithaca and thinking about how close he is to Penelope and Telemachus, only for him to get brutally interrupted by Poseidon. I really like this song, and I honestly wish it was a little longer. Also, my dad has been a music professor for the past 20 years and he has a song he composed named Charybdis so I’m automatically attached to this song.

Get in the Water - STEVEN RODRIGUEZ WELCOME BACK TO THE STAGE! This song was so anticipated by me, and it did not disappoint. The musical entrance of this song feels very powerful to me, especially with how it stops when Poseidon first starts to speak, before starting up again. I really like how the first “get in the water” (after the “now get in the water” but before the “or I’ll raise the tide so high-“) is sung, it hits my brain just the right way were I can so clearly envision Poseidon smugly gesturing for Ody to get in the water. The chorus of voices kicking in in the second chorus just keeps the tensions rising. The little verse about Ody asking Poseidon to leave him alone and just go home and then telling him he could learn to forgive was extremely unexpected to me for some reason, but I think it sets up six hundred strike really well because Ody did try to talk it out first and then moved to ruthlessness after that didnt work. TYEN POSEIDON’S SHATTER THE OCEAN MOVE OR WHATEVER JAY CALLED IT?!? WHAT. I - I CANT EVEN DESCRIBE HOW INCREDIBLE. WORDS SIMPLY CANNOT DESCRIBE. and then when ody’s underwater? polites is haunting the narrative again? and eury? and his mom? aND THEN THE WHOLE CREW? AND THEN THEY ALL SING THE “WAITING”??? MY HEART. MY HEART CANNOT TAKE IT. ITS SO BEAUTIFUL YET SO HEARTBREAKING.

Six Hundred Strike - The idea of having Ody use the wind bag as a jetpack is so fucking goofy in my opinion —don’t get me wrong, I love it, it’s just silly as hell. The whole speech to Poseidon about how he will get back to his son and he will get back to his wife? Mhm yes, good soup. However, i don’t really know how a lot of other people took this, but what I thought is that after that speech the spirits of the fallen men were doing most of the work to kick Poseidon’s ass, especially after Ody says “six hundred strike!!!!!” but maybe I’m stupid. Although, I think it works better that way, since I honestly don’t really like the idea of Ody being able to so single-handily defeat Poseidon. Which brings me to the stabbing. I was audibly gasping when this first happened during the stream ngl, and my eyes probably looked like they were about to roll out of my head. I saw someone in the comments after the stream ended saying that they headcanoned that the reason why Poseidon’s shouts of pain sounded so melodic is because they were music to Ody’s ears, and now I’m stealing that. But when Poseidon called him a monster? If it wasn’t for the fact that everyone else in my house was asleep during the stream I would have been SCREAMING. Also the line “next to my wife” left me in absolute disrepair. However, I disagree with the idea of Ody being able to defeat Poseidon so easily. I since have decided to subscribe to the theory of Ares helping Ody out, since Athena could not. I like this idea because 1, I feel like it makes more sense as to why ody was able to defeat Poseidon (divine intervention wink wink) and 2, idk I just like the idea that Ares was helping his sister out for once, but not to her knowledge (bc he still wants to be kinda a dick to her). And yes, I know that this heavily, heavily, HEAVILY diverges from the odyssey, and a lot of people were hoping for something a little more by the book in this s saga, but honestly? There are lots of other things already in epic’s entirety that differ from the Odyssey, so I personally don’t really see the problem there, nor do I agree with the people I’ve seen saying that Jorge needs to “actually read the classics” because it’s pretty damn obvious (at least to me) that he has. On a completely different note, I love how many motifs and callbacks there are in this song. I especially like the “different beast” motif playing right before Ody gets more violent, foreshadowing right before the moment that he is no longer in danger; he is the danger.

anyways yeah those are my thoughts! Feel free to disagree with me though and lmk what you think :)

[yourqueenb]

You said I came off as defensive, but it seems like you’re actually the defensive one considering you typed all of this because you were mad about the way I expressed my opinion. Regarding the things you said about Trystan and MC, I already responded to a lot of them in my reblog that shows here, another one in response to jerzwriter, and in my tags.

Regarding how you took my response, I did try to place a small disclaimer in my tags and, in my eyes, the conversation was never about shaming people for their opinions and ended on a good note. Now you’re coming in over 2 weeks later at this point with a lot of assumptions about me when everybody’s already moved on. Like I said, I did try to add a disclaimer of sorts on my reblogs, but maybe it wasn’t good enough because really and truly I feel like I shouldn’t have to. My opinion is my opinion. And if you feel personally attacked by me saying that I dislike or disagree with something, that’s completely your own issue.

Does PB really, really, REALLY make us want to believe our Crimes of Passion MC has no idea how royalty works? ESPECIALLY when we're dating the HEIR to the throne?

[peoplesrazor]

So, I wanted to address some of Lily's opinions in one of her videos. I know the video in the link is a year old, but I choose it for a few reasons. First, if anyone wants to claim that I just don't like her for criticizing "my show," then The Owl House is the show to do that with. Secondly, this video is about Hunter, a character I started a bit lukewarm on, myself. And lastly, the actual relevant part of the video is mercifully short. I've provided a link to the video, but I'm not going to use time stamps, since it's, again, short.

Lily's Video on Character Potential

So, after her introduction and blaming fan's reactions to character potential on theory videos (without providing evidence that is something that is happening with Hunter,) she gives us her own theory. Which is that people like Hunter for what his character could be, not what his character actually is. Then she says she doesn't like him because he has no purpose in the story.

Okay, that's an opinion. I disagree, but it is stated as more of an opinion than in later videos. She also takes the time to let us know through onscreen text that he is rendered in "every color of the urine spectrum." Lily, we know you hate white blond dudes, no need to diss the color yellow like that.

Culling through the nonsense, her basic premise is that Hunter doesn't do anything in the story and is merely stapled onto other characters. I could point out all the times he does effect the story, but let's just argue the "stapled" thing. Because I think I have a good counter for that, as him being paired with the other characters is where I started to like him and understand him as a character.

Hunter isn't stapled to other characters. Hunter is a mirror into other characters. He has Luz's interest in wild magic and inability to cast spells like other witches. He has been called a half-witch like Willow and shares her insecurity about not being as skilled as others. He is a prodigy like Gus and has the same pressures and anxiety. And he shares the same kind of abusive upbringing as Amity.

Lily claims that everyone gets overshadowed by Hunter in their shared episodes, save Amity. This happens, she says, because of white favoritism; something she has accused the show of doing before. Even if I don't feel he overshadowed anyone in any of the episodes he shares, I can offer a much better explanation for why Amity stands out more in Eclipse Lake.

It's her episode. She's the hero we are following this go around. Kiki and co are obstacles, the titan blood is the MacGuffin, and Eda and King are the sidekicks/comic relief. Lastly, Hunter is there to be Amity's foil; because the episode deals specifically with traits they have in common. They both come from a background where affection is a reward for success. The both feel that if they fail, they will be disappointing someone who thinks they are special.

Make no mistake, without the interference of Luz and the others, Amity would be this kid in two years.

She further says that she likes Hunter better when people other than Dana Terrace write for him. Hunter does seem to be Dana's favorite, or at least one of her favorites. We know he was one of the shows original characters when it was conceived and one Dana has said is a lot of fun for her to write. Still, I don't think the difference is because he's a creator's pet.

I think the episodes Lily is talking about are the ones when he's acting more like the Golden Guard. That the whole Golden Guard thing is a mask for his insecurities is something the show takes the time to point out to us. Look at Thanks to Them, for an example. He gets scared about going into the abandoned house to look for Belos and says that didn't happen when he was the Golden Guard. Luz gives him a Halloween mask they find and he bursts through the door with the same bravado and, indeed, the same line as he when he first confronts Luz. He doesn't take the mask off, either, until Luz calls him family and he breaks down.

The Golden Guard is not, and was never, who this kid is. This was who he had to be to survive his indoctrination. This is why, Lily, it doesn't matter if he had a "destiny" to betray Belos and why it is telling that he still couldn't leave until he committed treason. Did you not watch the episode with him and Gus? You show clips from it and it's one of the episodes you complain about. He was still having trouble convincing himself he did the right thing by leaving. That's how brain washing works.

The rest of the video is her rambling about other things. There is actually a whole section on Sylvanis and then one on Luz's arc later in the series that I won't go into here. Lily, if you really, really don't understand what a negative character arc is, I can go into it for you.

[aucatgirl]

I'd like to hear your complaints about mha please. I think rei should've rolled her ex husband off a cliff.

SIGH. Here is my official diatribe against MHA’s ending. This is definitely not my first rodeo with a series I love and had hope for having a bad ending but wow this one stings harder than usual

What’s craziest about all this is how much I defended this manga up until the last ten chapters. I loved this manga so much and had such high hopes for it. My own MHA social circle was nothing but huge fans that also had high hopes, some criticisms about things but willing to give the benefit of the doubt… But then 420 happened and I snapped out of it (and then my mutuals also snapped out of it, one by one, lol). It was so rushed and baffling that it actually ruined my day when it released, lmao. Deku regaining his arms via Eri ripping off her horn via child mutilation was only the beginning and I was not prepared for the everything else that would happen

The biggest issue starts and ends with Deku, who apparently got a secret lobotomy during the dark Deku arc and has not been written the same since. He completely loses his ability to be introspective in any capacity. “I’ve been having these thoughts about Tenko too” where?? Where is it??? Where is literally any of your real thoughts on Tenko or losing OFA or anything??? This manga used to have such an interesting insight into Deku’s mind. And it’s just, gone. A big issue with Shigaraki’s death goes back to that. Where’s the reflection?? “Show don’t tell” doesn’t work that well with a protagonist that barely shows any emotion at all!!

When it comes to the saving Shigaraki plot, I saw some mutuals suggest that Horikoshi changed his mind on the ending at some point between the togachako fight and 423. I reread those chapters and disagreed. Deku being unable to save Shigaraki is a plot twist and it’s a BAD one. All of the build up leading to 423 is that Deku would save Shigaraki, not just his soul, full stop. Unless it really was a last minute change or pushed by editors/SJ, I cannot imagine that this ending was not planned the way it was, so I will criticize Horikoshi as such. The twist was ass. And now we’re left with an ending of “well we can try to prevent villains, but if they’re already villains, beat ‘em up!” which is just.. AUGH!!! Completely throws Twice’s death down the drain!!! I can’t believe we were left with “we’ll do better next time” when the whole point was that the next generation would do better than the previous… Deku’s generation was supposed to be that one!! Not to mention that All Might seemingly forgot about his personal connection to Shigaraki…

It’s also wild that the togachako plot was the best written tragedy while also being the most offensive of all of them. I don’t care how many people Toga killed 😭 she was explicitly queer. At least izuocha didn’t happen, that would’ve made things so bad I don’t think I would’ve been able to interact with the series anymore. It was a one-off line but Toga’s death had the most direct impact on improving society, however, it was a ONE-OFF LINE, there is zero indication that Uravity is as prominent of a hero as this line makes you believe, which sucks. Also, the fact that the cameras got retconned is ridiculous, just another knife twist of completely gutting the theme of rehabilitation and societal changes on how people view villains

And… that’s not even mentioning what the fuck happened with 3baka. I understand the rush. Horikoshi has health issues, there are time limits for endings. I would’ve been okay with just the rush. But the writing decisions that were made… why the fuck did Kurogiri die like that?? In the most baffling, inconsequential way possible? Aizawa wasn’t shown, Mic didn’t react, it’s never brought up again except for a tiny, tiny panel of Shirakumo’s grave. I guess the whole plot with nomu and how they’ve slowly been humanized was just completely scrapped, because Kurogiri’s death was more inconsequential than Hood’s. If you’re going to kill Kurogiri, make him die by AFO’s hands. It would’ve worked a lot better as a tragedy rather than random and unnecessary Bakugo moment

This is honest to god one of the worst pages in the entire series:

Finally okay I honestly don’t care for the Todorokis so I don’t really have any strong thoughts on their ending. The ending Dabi got is actually better than I expected after Shigaraki died lol. Though I do agree that Rei pushing around Endeavor in his wheelchair is a hilariously bad look and I don’t know why Horikoshi thought it was a good idea

Here is one thing I will say, though. One final word:

Foster brothers Shigaraki and Kurogiri never got debunked!! Can’t have your theories be wrong if you get no information about a character!

[drbased]

This is really not directed at you, but I don't think sending this to the actual OP would be productive- that womb envy post strikes me as pure woo woo. Particularly this irritating line, which the OP even highlights: "Is not the tremendous strength in men of the impulse to creative work in every field precisely due to their feeling of playing a relatively small part in the creation of a living being, which constantly impels them to an overcompensation in achievements?" This is psychologizing where there needs to be no psychologizing, and at the same time a bizarre unquestioned assumption of women's lesser creative accomplishment. Even if we took this claim at face value, would it not in fact imply the very superiority of men? Is it wise to pit a physical trait, a non-skill one just happens to be born with through no action of their own, against the human power of creativity? As for idea male creativity is driven by womb envy on some deep subconscious level… this is about as legitimate as any equivalent claim by freud.

I understand the reverent attitude of some feminists toward motherhood and the uterus is a reaction to the way we are devalued and exploited for our reproductive anatomy, a cathartic reversal (or, """reversal""") of male supremacist rhetoric. But just as women are not inferior for any of our comparative physical disadvantages, it only comes across as self-serving hypocrisy when we try to turn it around to our benefit.

(Also, side note, because no one should be expected to vet any blog they reblog. But reading her blog should show you where this type of thought originates. It's very unnerving and very regressive.)

I'm actually ecstatic over the quality of responses and anons I get now. When people are responding to you with discourse instead of OP, that's when you know you've made it :P

I actually fundamentally disagree at the whole thing being woo-woo. I do believe that men have womb-envy - or, rather, I believe that they perhaps once did, back when we were all much more primitive beings with a direct relationship with our own mortality and the fundamental terror of being alive, vulnerable human beings - and these blossoming existential terrors have been built on and so form the fabric of the collective narrative, associated biases and language. In my tag theory posting I like to examine male psychology and where men's oppression of women's actually came from, since I despise this idea that men are intrinsically 'bad' on some biological/pseudo-spiritual level - said rhetoric, that forms an easy-to-swallow narrative, keeps seeping through radfem spaces (through blogs like OPs) and directly contradicts all the feminist theory that shows just how deep socialisation goes and how much these are human problems with human beliefs at the root of them. From my observation, it seems to be a repeating pattern time and time again that everything men say about women is projection, and so I've come to formulate this hypothesis that projection from the oppressor class is a window into said class's psychology and neuroses. So where men claim that women have penis envy, I think whilst for some women it is simply an easy catharsis to simply go 'no u', for me I do think there's real reasoning to suggest that men are the ones who have womb envy.

Similarly, whilst men claim they are superior for their biology, there are also a large number of feminist-identified women who want the catharsis of reversing the claim and using different metrics to claim women's biological superiority. I admit I do experience this catharsis, but also I think part of that catharsis is the greater knowledge I gain from exploring the idea that women's bodies aren't just a broken crock of shit doomed to pain and misery, and that we're actually much more hardy, have better pain tolerance etc. - and that 'women live longer' isn't just some stupid joke to pair up with 'because they're not married to men'. I find exploring the contrary to be a useful way to deconstruct from male supremacist rhetoric. Although at the end of it all I still refuse to use the word 'superior' - also because it's a losing game, since it's not fucking real you could make up any criteria, and as long as these symbolic concepts exist their meaning is always going to be owned by the ruling class. This is why on my side-blog learningwomanhood I use the tag 'female as default' rather than 'female supremacy' - as well as the whole female supremacy thing being a fetish (proof of my point about how the ruling class utilises these concepts), I also think it's much more accurate to say that the reason for women's 'biological superiority' is that we're the default human beings and men, biologically speaking, an offshoot purely for reproduction. So women's bodies are built to survive better because we're, well, the essential ones.

And I don't even really like that - that's not nice to know, that the men I've loved and liked are biologically unnecessary. And then I think, well men who have loved and liked me low-key think that about me - and unlike me, intrinsically believe I'm a lesser human being for it - and they never had a problem with that... ugh. I digress.

And I entirely agree with you about the creativity part. The drive to create is a natural human one; no need to psycho-analyse about it. Men are still human, and trying to create this narrative of men being less human might not be 'bad' in the same way that men dehumanise us, but as I said it's always a losing game, and imo it's intellectual cowardice.

And I do thank you for pointing out the OP. Because I'm not one of those radblr people who will reblog from literally anybody and say 'I shouldn't have to background check every silly post I reblog' - girl, this isn't your fucking diary, this is literally the public and if you know literally anything about politics from the last decade then you'll know that the popular rise of naziism has been entirely because the alt-right glob onto apolitical spaces under some sort of shroedinger's irony - it's all jokes till it's not. If you're not at least somewhat vigilant about what you're sharing and the implicit politics it contains then you're part of the problem. Simply proclaiming that your audience should 'use critical thinking' so you can absolve yourself of responsibility for your influence is exactly why we're in this fucking mess. But I succumb to brain rot like everyone else and my attention span isn't exactly what it should be (especially at the moment, given my life circumstances - which is an explanation, not an excuse). I think if I had read and absorbed the post properly then I wouldn't have reblogged it uncritically.

I am somewhat hesitant to take the post down because as much as I dislike the vibes and the OP, there is an interesting bit of history in there: a woman's response to freud. Considering how freud seems to have shown up in almost every damn feminist book I've read, I think modern day feminism has forgotten just how influential he was on society. My theory is that 'his ideas' (or at least, his popularisation of ideas that were perhaps already floating around psychiatric circles) were so new to the public that they opened up this idea that people have intrinsic beliefs, and that sex has a lot to do with said intrinsic beliefs. This opened the door for a lot of feminists to be able to discuss sexual psychology in an entirely new way. So even if the Karen Horney's response is flawed, then I still think it's a necessary piece of the puzzle to see how women responded to freud's ideas.

OK. So. I think this exchange has been a good criticism of the post so what I'm going to do is screenshot it here and delete my original reblog. I think that covers all bases, thank you.

[ofmermaidstories]

i just wanted to say as a long time reader i'm so happy to hear your thoughts on the ending, because i feel like so many people were very "this is the worst ending ever and it ruined the series" or "this ending was perfect and anyone who disagrees just didn't understand the story" when i think neither is really true at all lol... like it's okay to take what you need from the ending and agree and disagree with certain parts! no perfect story exists because if it did then writers would stop writing! but i'm still so excited to see where your love of the series takes you in the future, and i'm grateful that you share your work with us always :) i hope you have a good week!

i love the series too much to swing blindly either way. 🥹 and i understand/can see perfectly how like, there’d be readers who’d be upset with the wrap up, or otherwise feel the knee-jerk reaction to defend it from all criticism. 🥺 i’m not one of them though. 🥹 hori achieved what he set out to do (tell a very specific story about a boy learning what it means to dream, and the cost and responsibility of gaining and losing them), there’s just some pot holes on the road to it. 🥺 and maybe they could’ve (should’ve) been addressed, maybe easily, maybe not (maybe it’s a problem for when the road was first built, in terms of foundation or missing approval plans, maybe) but the road still works. we still get there in the end. 🥹

i had fun the entire time, even with the complaints lmao. i agree with you, anon! like, i don’t think perfect creators/writers exist. we all have blind spots, or biases that otherwise skewer what we try to achieve. i think flaws make creators and their creations interesting!!!!!! if anything i think that tells you more about them and their work than the things they get right does. The way Hori protects and almost babies his hero boys—his men—from their consequences, lmao, like he’s almost too scared to truly hurt them in the long run? He always just shies away from saying things outright—things are always left just open enough that he can back peddle later on, fix things. The complete dry lack of romance, despite him taking pains to hint at it and the way it’s guarded among Ochako and Tsyu like some precious, girlish secret. 💀 Idc what anyone says about that last one, I don’t believe he’s deliberately subverting expectations—I think he’s just bad at writing romance (that isn’t unintended 💀) and also a coward, lmao.

But that’s the stuff that’s fun! It’s fun to pick it apart and then it’s fun to piece it back together either by writing fic or trying to find fics that have like, the fix-its you want. 🥹 Hori’s flaws and deliberate gaps are what makes it the perfect sandbox we know and love. and i think he knows that, tbh—there’s so many tiny things he hints at, throughout the story, that we just never get full explanations of. The UA robot uprising, lmao. The cyberwar after the kids leave school, mentioned in this last chapter?? The fact that he’s plotted out the past users lives, and is just kinda like—eh, yeah, i’m never gonna tell. LOL. Maybe what I keep calling cowardice is just a misjudgement of the lines he draws for himself, in the sand. 🧐🥺 I guess we won’t know, lmao.

i’m waffling. Anon, I hope you’re having a good start to your week. 🥹 Thank-you for being so nice, specifically with your last words—there’s a lot I wanna write for MHA!!! I’m excited to start something new that gets to play with what Hori left for us. 🥹 Like Lili said in her earlier ask—I’d like to write them a hundred other happy endings, too. 🥹