#don't want to annoy the readers

[mothwingwritings]

Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face. 

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head.  You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often.  And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

 If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond?  If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now. 

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process.  Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential.  How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him.  “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling  terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

[lucasandlily]

Rui x Reader who is really affectionate, but can't touch him because of The Curse.

A/N: I'm alive!! Rui my beautiful beautiful tragic boy. I've actually been having a lot of brainrot for this game, particularly an isekai AU that made me contemplate making RP blog (I love you guys btw. This is probably my first fandom where they're so active, I've been really well connected with this fandom somehow and it's so fun!!), so I figured I might as well be writing it down now. This is an idea I've had spinning in my head for a while, so it's VERY self-indulgent/insert, but enjoy!! AO3 link here

Rui's POV. Second-person pronoun "You" is used. Angst! But also fluff!! (825 words)

You’ve always been an affectionate little thing. It’s something Rui finds adorable about you, staying optimistic despite all that looms over you, not letting any of the ghouls he KNOWS can be more than a little much sometimes destroy your positive attitude. It’s as if you decided to be the light in a place that literally has dark in its name, and he lov admires you for that.

He can’t help but feel the bitter green of envy though, when he watches you ruffle Lyca’s hair after he whines at you for treating him like a dog. 

He pointedly turns away from the look Ed gives him over your head when you relax into his chest after he leans over your shoulder.  

He just laughs along at your drunken antics when you nuzzle into Haru’s hand, somehow even more touchy when your cheeks are flushed with alcohol. 

He tries not to remember the flash of hurt, confusion, the first time he’d backed away from your hand when all you wanted to do was give him a pat for a job well done. He doesn’t know if it hurt more when your face morphed into regretful understanding, or when you apologised and told him you’d try not to do it again. 

Rui tells himself it’s for the better when he notices you’ve been avoiding him for the past week. He’d have done the same to you anyway, if he realised his feelings were starting to fester. He tries to not let it get to him when he hears you enter the Obscuary mansion, only to quickly patter up the stairs without stopping by the bar first, as you would have done previously. 

Maybe before, he would have made it a little competition to see who could mess up the other’s hair more. He’d watched you run your fingers through Lyca’s after you’d tousled it out of place, anyway. Maybe in another life, you’d gently hold his face as you showered him with kisses. He’d do the same to you anyway, if he wasn’t forced to keep his hands to himself. 

If he didn’t notice you hold your hand back every time you saw his mask slip. If he didn’t see your hand stop short before pulling it back to tell him he had a bit of hair out of place. 

It’s all just part of the cursed life, he tells himself. He should be getting used to it by now, he sighs as he walks down the hall over to his room. 

Behind him, he hears the jingle of the bell you like to wear on your keychain. He turns at the sound of your quick steps approaching. 

“Rui! Ruiruiruiii!!” You call.

“Ah, there you are! Haha, I’m not going anywhere you know~ though I guess I don’t mind being chased?” He teases as you approach. 

You smile up at him brightly, “I have something to show you!” You tell him, he notices now that you have a hand behind your back. 

“Hm? Aw, did you get me a gift? And here I was thinking you were hiding from me!” He regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth. Your smile falters a bit as you blink at his confession. 

But before he can backtrack with a “Just kidding!” your smile lightens again, eyes filling with some sort of resolve as you pull out… a glove on a stick? in your other hand.

He doesn’t pull away when he feels the simulation of a hand on his head. He can’t, when you look into his eyes with such unmistakable fondness. The awkward, stilted movements as you try to run the imitation hand through his hair communicates how long you’ve wanted to do this, and the tears that well up in his eyes betray how much he’s needed it. 

He feels the cloth soak up the tears when you move the glove down to hold his face. It feels soft under his skin, and he can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

“How long did it take you to make this?” He asks as you let him lace his fingers with your hand extension. He squeezes the plush hand, feeling the soft give before it reaches the stick inside, inspecting where the glove and stick are attached. 

“Um! A week? It took a bit of experimenting to get it to stay on… And they don’t really sell gloves on campus either.” 

Your eyes crinkle when you look at him, the corners of your lips pull up triumphantly when he lets go of the hand to let you pat his head again. 

“You deserve at least this much,” you tell him. “I know it’s not really the same or anything, but I don’t wanna leave you out, y’know?” 

“It was worth it though, if it made you happy.” You look into his eyes as you say this, and he can’t help but believe you.

Reblogs and Comments are appreciated! I love you (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

[pain-in-the-butler]

A compilation of art for my Dadbastian fanfic Coattails that I commissioned from the incredibly talented @tomoyoo! They went above and beyond with the details... Each picture feels as cozy and warm as a storybook, right? I'm so delighted with how they turned out!! Thank you for making each one so beautiful! 🥹🥹🥹

[starrylevi]

Levi and physical touch

Levi didn’t realize he was starved for touch. He would receive touches sometimes, like when Hange would try to hug him from behind, but he would quickly shrug her off. Or Erwin would give him a congratulatory pat on the back once a while. Levi didn’t touch anyone else unless it was necessary, or if he felt like it (which was very rare). But that would look like ruffling some brat’s hair if he felt they did a good job, but that was it. He didn’t need touch. He learned to live without it. The last time he felt a touch that was comfortable was his mother’s. She would cradle him in her arms, humming his favorite tune as she was stroking his hair. But soon after she was gone. And Kenny was definitely not one for affection. The only thing he had learned from Kenny in regard to touch was how to hurt people. He knew where to place his hands and the perfect spots to target on the body in order to cause pain. With no guidance, he was forced to learned how to self soothe, placing one hand into the other and holding on tight, squeezing so hard he felt he might snap his fingers. His touch was the only touch that he needed. But then there was you. He remembered the first time he felt your touch. Your hand briefly touched his shoulder as you asked if he was okay. He must have been lost in his thoughts or something, but the sudden contact startled him. If you had been looking close enough, you might have seen him flinch. It wasn’t like Erwin’s touch, which was strong and firm. Or Hange’s touch, which was overbearing. But your touch? Yours? Your touch brought comfort. But still, it was a strange feeling for Levi after not having received it for so long, and you knew that. You understood Levi and respected his space but of course there were times when you wanted some skin to skin contact with him. He would never deny you of this. You’d do things like place your head on his shoulder affectionately or light place one soft hand on his rough one and just hold it there, just for a few seconds.

What broke the camel’s back was when you came for a surprise visit during lunch. He opened the door to see you standing there. He’ll never forget it, you cupped his cheeks with both hands, smiling as your eyes looked into his cloudy ones. “Hi.” You greeted him. “Hi.” His greeting came out more as a sigh, his tone light and airy. You had never touched him like this before. Your hands were so warm. He instinctively closed his eyes and let himself lean into them, the combination of your touch and sweet scent creating an oasis for his mind to retreat to. There was peace for him for a brief moment in time. There was that feeling again, just like when his mother used to hold him.

Ever since then, he would try to recreate that moment with you, over and over again, in any way he could. He would never ask for it directly, of course. But you knew when Levi wanted touch. He’d rub up against you at the most random moments or hold out his hand awkwardly on a random surface, hoping you would notice his lonely appendage. You always did notice it; and you would never deny him, like him with you.

[hannahbarberra162]

Opposites of Attraction (Kid x Reader, Enemies to Lovers)

No gods no masters only 1 million WIPs

A huge huge thanks to @nocturnalrorobin and @limitlesstildil for beta-ing this during the holidays for my needy ass.

18+ MDNI on Ao3

Kid POV

Walking around town on some shithole island he’d already forgotten the name of, Kid felt a strong pull towards the local dive bar. He and Killer had been going in that direction anyway, but the pull made him curious. He didn’t often feel them, it took a significant amount of metal for him to feel a pull that strong. With his Jiki Jiki no mi he could detect even trace amounts of iron, cobalt, and nickel but usually allowed the feeling to wash over him unnoticed. But this wasn’t a trace amount, this was something significant. And whatever it was, he wanted it. Even though he had complete mastery over his fruit, it relied on having metal to manipulate. In this part of the Grand Line, high-quality iron was difficult to find and Kid was working on accumulating as much as he could to prepare for upcoming battles. Whatever the metal was, he wanted it on his ship.

“A cannon?” Killer asked, seemingly apropos of nothing. After spending so many years together, Killer could read Kid’s microexpressions with ease and vice versa. On the battlefield it worked like telekenesis, helping the pair devastate whoever was in their path. During peacetime it helped them bed whoever they set their sights on with smooth talk and cheeky flirting, capturing and breaking hearts with ease all up and down the Grand Line.

“No, not a cannon, hafta find out,” Kid stated, throwing open the door to the bar. The air was heavy with dust and the smell of stale alcohol hit his nose as he scanned through the room. Nothing was amiss from a dive bar - there was booze, darts, a pool table, and various people drinking and talking loudly. There wasn’t anything significant made of metal at the business, only barstools, tables, and cups composed mostly of wood with only metal nails tugging at his consciousness. Locating the large amount of iron again, Kid found the metal deposit had moved locations and was now heading out the door as if on foot. Further intrigued, Kid attracted whatever the metal was gently, not wanting to damage it in case it was something precious.

Your POV

There was only one person you didn’t want to meet on the Grand Line. None of the high-bounty pirates bothered you in the slightest  - except for one. If you died, well, it came with the territory of being a mercenary. You lived your life without fear, taking on jobs you wanted and turning down those you didn’t. It had landed you wherever you were at the moment on the Grand Line, looking for another job to take.

You were a fairly well-known mercenary on the Grand Line, notorious for using your Logia Devil Fruit in creative ways. As the owner of the Iron-Iron fruit, you had the ability to turn yourself completely into iron but also to make and manipulate iron as well. You could duplicate keys and pick locks in seconds, you could turn into molten iron and, of course, you could mold your arms into giant hammers and smash anyone in your way. You could protect yourself and others with shields, create shrapnel and expel it at rapid speeds, and even make your own silverware. You had worked hard to master your fruit and felt confident in your ability to fight for hire. Being so versatile meant you were able to demand a high salary if someone was seeking you out specifically. You were happy with your life as you’d made it, adventures of your choosing awaiting you at every turn.

Now, the one person you didn’t want to meet was across the bar, flexing his gigantic metal hand as he stood in the doorway, looking around. Quickly chugging the rest of your beer you slammed the glass down on the bar and hightailed it out the back door. You knew very well who he was - Eustass “Captain” Kid - and you had no desire to ever meet him face to face. Nearly sprinting out the door, you made your escape into the alleyway that led back to the town.

Or you tried to. 

You were being attracted to Kid by his Devil Fruit power, being pulled against your will towards the Captain. You had feared something like this would happen - even without using your fruit power some amount of your essense was tied to the Iron Iron fruit, giving Kid the ability to magnetize you. Scrambling for purchase, you tried holding on to the doorframe of the back door but the pull was too strong. Your whole body felt like it was being pulled towards Kid and you had to let go of the doorframe or your fingernails would be ripped off. You decided to try for the dignified route and go to him instead of being pulled. Turning on your heel, you marched up to the Captain of the Kid Pirates faster than the pull was dragging you. It almost felt like you were flying as you moved with the magnetism instead of fighting it.

“Oi. What do you want?” you asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Kid was taller than you’d expected, towering over you with a frown. He was massive, his wanted posters not doing justice to how solid he was. You resisted the urge to punch him with an iron fist for pulling you to him. For now. You could feel his magnetism still drawing you in as you continued to step closer to him. He didn’t step back.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, scowling down at you.

“You brought me here, shithead. You tell me,” you snapped back unamused. The Captain might have some kind of control over your body movements but he didn’t control your mouth. And yes, maybe it had gotten you in trouble before but with your Logia power, you never had a problem backing it up. By now you were practically stepping on his feet as he remained where he stood.

“The fuck you talkin’ about Squirt? You some kinda robot? And the fuck you doing?” he asked, looking you up and down while you were compelled to get even closer to him. You had to tilt your face up to avoid smushing it into his bare, muscled chest.

“You some kinda idiot?” you retorted, trying to ignore the weird position the magnetism had you in. God, if Kid was always this dense you weren’t sure how he’d gotten so far in life. Though if that wasn’t a pistol in his pocket, you could form a guess. You were completely flush against him, your chest to his front. His large body was radiating heat and you had a fleeting urge to hug him. As a Logia user, you didn’t really get cold but you didn’t often get to feel warm either. You avoided most touch outside of violence and sex, this may have been the closest you’d been to a man in a while. Kid smelled better than you expected as well, like well-worn leather and oil rather than body odor and stale piss like you’d imagined he would.

“She’s that mercenary,” the Massacre Soldier interjected, holding a beer in his hand. You idly wondered how he’d drink it with the mask on but he pulled a metal straw out of his pocket. It attracted and stuck to Kid’s metal arm as the pull was still going.

“Turn it off. I want to drink,” Killer requested calmly. The Captain grunted but finally turned off his magnetism and Killer grabbed his straw off his Captain’s arm before it fell to the ground. You were able to take a few steps back and glare at the man ruining your night and possibly your life. 

“You that Iron Logia user?” he asked with a wicked grin. 

“You already know the fuckin’ answer, dickwad. Why were you looking for me? And don’t call me Squirt, assface,” you said with a toss of your head.

“Got a mouth on you, huh? Don’t matter, join my crew - I can use your powers. You make metal and I could use it to make weapons and -” the Captain started explaining his reasoning as you tuned him out. He’d clearly already thought about some schemes and ideas for your future and you weren’t interested in finding out what they were.

“No,” you stated firmly, grabbing a large beer off a waitress’s tray as she passed by. 

“Why the fuck not? It’s better than anything else you’d be doing. What, you need to escort more asshole nobles to a summer island for vacation or some shit like that?” he balked as you chugged the dark ale in one go. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand, you dropped the mug to the floor and crushed it under your foot. 

“Cus I don’t want to,” you said, taking another step towards the Captain. This time it was by choice you felt like getting in his face and confronting him.

“You’re already a mercenary, what’s the fuckin’ difference between joining my crew and anyone else’s? We’re a strong crew, my bounty is 3 billion, you can’t do better than that,” Kid demanded, his red-painted mouth sputtering with anger as if the idea that you’d refuse never occurred to him. 

“The difference is I don’t want to,” you explained calmly as if you were talking to a child. It only enraged the Captain more as he turned as red as his hair. You had a feeling that if you stepped foot on the Victoria Punk, you’d never get off it. More than that, you didn’t want to be around someone who could control your body whenever they wanted to. You weren’t sure exactly what the limitations of your fruit were when not in use, but being around Kid meant your powers would just be an extension of his own - something he had already figured out. No, you wanted to keep your freedom and your life and that didn’t include being the metal monkey for one Eustass Kid and his gigantic ego.

But there was more to it than that. You’d heard about his personality and what he was like so you knew a working relationship wouldn’t be possible. He was crude, stubborn, brash, quick to anger, and so were you. You’d contracted with similar high maintenance Captains in the past and it had never worked out. You became a mercenary because you didn’t like taking orders or being beholden to anyone and someone like Kid couldn’t handle insubordination. His ego was larger than his already gigantic skull and you wouldn’t be able to resist butting heads every chance you got. Kid was the exact kind of Captain you refused to take contracts from, even without the Jiki Jiki no mi. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Massacre Soldier watching the heated conversation while drinking his beer with the straw. The mask didn’t allow his expressions to show but you got an impression of amusement from the infamous first mate.

“Well, too bad for you Squirt. I don’t care about what you want and don’t want,” he said while mimicking your higher voice. “I need metal and you’re gonna make it. Now let’s get drunk,” the Captain stated, turning with a flourish to go to the bar, his cape billowing behind him. You made one more attempt to flee from Kid but before you made it two steps you were attached to his metal arm, held in place by a strong magnetic field. You felt like a decorative magnet as your limbs dangled helplessly off his arm while your torso was stuck to him. You took up nearly the whole metal contraption with your body but he paid you no mind. You tried wiggling and squirming but nothing was going to dislodge you from his arm until he turned off the field.

“Turn it off you fuckin’ cocksleeve! Put me down right the fuck NOW!” you demanded, making your fist into iron out of habit. As expected, it magnetized to his arm instantly with a loud clang before you could even pull back to punch him. Kid laughed in your face as you glowered at him.

“That was your plan? Turn into more metal for me to magnetize? Dumb fuckin’ idea, Squirt,” he said, reaching the bar. Kid jostled your entire body as he slammed his flesh fist onto the bar, cracking the wood in two.

“Oi! Barkeep! Get me a shot glass and some booze,” he bellowed across the room to the panicking barkeep. The Kid pirates were known for creating chaos at the slightest inconvenience, yet another grievance you had against them. Though you often felt like destroying things, it made coming back to any particular island more difficult. Following along with a crew or scoping out locations was considerably harder when the Kid pirates left an island as a decimated crater.

“Get me somethin’ too! Fucking cheap ass,” you grumbled, still attached to his arm. You were slightly impressed that he carried you like you weighed nothing, which gave you an idea. You turned your entire body to iron suddenly, causing him to dip on one side due to your immense increase in weight. If you caught him off guard, maybe he’d drop the field and you could get away. Unfortunately, Kid grunted but righted himself quickly, pulling his arm up to the bar once more. He was as strong as he looked, the muscles weren’t just for show, you thought to yourself. 

“Quit bein’ so fuckin’ annoying!” Kid complained, taking his first shot. You tried grabbing the bottle of booze but he held it out of your reach easily. You felt like a kid who was being held back by their head, swinging their arms and legs in a futile effort to hit their opponent.

“Me?! Being annoying!? You’re kidnapping me you titty-twisted ape!” you yelled back, turning yourself back to flesh to talk. If being completely metal wasn’t going to work you’d at least be able to give him a piece of your mind before he took you to his ship.

“I’m not kidnapping you, I’m hiring you permanently,” Kid said with a snicker. Reaching over the counter and grabbing a few more bottles, Kid turned away from the bar. Popping the cork off some rum, he drank directly from the bottle. He handed the unopened bottle to the Massacre Soldier, who did the same but stuck his straw in it instead.

“And your contract starts now,” he said with finality, leaving the dive with the Massacre Soldier following. Everything in you wanted to flail and scream but it wouldn’t do any good, you were made of iron and he controlled magnetic fields. You assumed he was heading back to his ship to drink more and pass out. You had a similar plan until Kid had ruined it. Still dangling, you considered the masked man walking alongside Kid. 

“Hi, you must be the Massacre Soldier. It’s nice to meet you. I’m a big fan of your work,” you said pleasantly, sticking out your hand. The man stuck out his own scarred arm and shook your hand with a firm grasp.

“Killer. Nice to meet you too,” Killer responded pleasantly. You smiled at him and hoped he did the same behind the mask. 

“What the fuck? You talk nice to him but not me?” Kid said, shaking you slightly.

“Fuck you, you’re kidnapping me. I have no problems with Killer, why would I be rude? I’m not a dick to random strangers,” you finished with a hiss. It was getting tiring being carried around like a purse. Intent on resuming your conversation, you looked at Killer again.

“If you’re ever interested in becoming a mercenary, let me know. I think we’d work well together,” you continued, nodding at the handsome man as the three of you reached the docks.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! You can’t recruit Killer while I’m recruiting -”

“Kidnapping -”

“Recruiting you!” Kid yelled into your face as he brought you up to his own. You narrowed your eyes. No one - no one - yelled at you like that and got away with it. Not anymore. You couldn’t hit him so you did the next best thing. 

You spat in his face.

Kid POV

The glob of spit trailed slowly down his cheek as he stared at you incredulously, a growl escaping his throat. You pointed your finger at him defiantly and spoke quietly, nearly a whisper, undeterred by his reddening face and growing anger. You were either stupid or brave - he didn’t particularly care right now. Kid wouldn’t tolerate disrespect of any kind, especially not in front of his crew. Kid knew Killer was watching, waiting to see what he’d do.

“Don’t ever speak to me like that,” you said, your eyes flashing with rage. Kid was so shocked that he had yet to respond to you. He’d talk to you however he liked, he was the Captain of the crew and you worked for him now. Coming up with a quick plan, Kid smiled his most menacing grin at you. It didn’t seem to have the intended effect as you weren’t cowed in the slightest. He didn’t want to hurt you, he still needed you to make metal for him. Besides, you’d be on his crew now and he never hurt his own crew members intentionally.

“I’ll say whatever I want, Squirt. But I don’t think you can,” he sneered, using his magnetism with a little finesse. As expected, your mouth slammed shut, leaving you unable to speak or even move your lips. He hadn’t thought through all the implications of you being made of iron when he first met you but now he could really see the value in having you aboard. He could control your every movement if he wished, down to your lush little mouth. You tried showing him your anger through your eyes but Kid just laughed. 

“Much better now, huh? Don’t have to listen to your bullshit yapping,” Kid said, sitting in the dinghy of the ship. Holding his arm over the side, he held his arm with you face down over the water as he repelled the boat towards his beloved Victoria Punk. 

“Don’t piss me off too much or the last sight you’ll see is my sweet face,” he sneered. You flipped him off with your free hand, pissing him off even more. Kid decided to have a little fun and dunked his arm up to the shoulder (and you) underwater, just for a few seconds. Kid relished the panic on your face the moment before you realized his intention and the inevitability of being dipped in the water. His metal arm got wet but it was worth it to see you sputtering in indignation with your now sopping hair sticking to your face. 

“Might want to let her open her mouth for a moment to breathe,” Killer suggested, tying the dinghy to the Punk as you breathed as rapidly as you could through your nose.

“Nah, you’re fine, ain’t you?” Kid asked, shaking off his arm. You, of course, didn’t answer. Kid laughed, enjoying the fury on your expressive face as you shook your limbs in an attempt to get off as much seawater as you could. You took in the ship adorned with a fish skeleton in front of you, your eyes skittering across the multitude of metal adorning the ship.

“Welcome to the Victoria Punk, Squirt.”

[daceydeath]

Stop writing for Minho and Han they are both gay and dating oml🤦🏽‍♀️

Well hello to you too, Firstly fuck off for assuming peoples sexuality, disrespectfully of course, because that is foul and also for telling me what to do. I do what I want you quim womble. DaceyDeath 💕 xx

Lazy Mornings

Pairing: Han x reader Word Count: 0.3k Genre: Fluff Warnings: none (except the swearing above)

Waking up beside Jisung on one of his days off is pretty much your favorite thing in the world, watching him breathe softly barefaced and hair fluffy makes you happier than you ever thought possible. It is nearly always you who wakes up first and you have, in the last year at least, reveled in the secret photographs you take of him while he is still asleep his shirt usually twisted up around his torso exposing his gloriously toned stomach, sleep pants slung dangerously low on his hips and his lips pouted as he dreams of things he never tells you. Storing them away in a locked folder in your phone to look at while he is away for work or too busy with his schedule to see you. This morning is no different one of his feet is twitching like a sleeping puppy as he lays spread out across the bed the covers tangled in his legs. His face is always so sweet when he sleeps none of the cheekiness that usually resides there which makes him look younger than he is.

"Why are you moving so much baby?" he mumbled his voice deeper when its laced with sleep "come here". You smiled fondly as he cracked open one eye and reached for you with his closest arm finding your thigh and squeezing it softly.

"It's early Ji go back to sleep" you whisper letting him wrap his arms around you and pull you half on top of him. Allowing you to lightly trace patterns on his shirt little stars or hearts until he relaxes back into sleep.

"So you can take another photo" he smiles lopsidedly.

"Shut up like you don't take photos of me" you shush him mildly embarrassed that he knew about your little secret. He just hummed softly rolling you both over so he was sprawled across you, his weight comforting and warm, while he nuzzled his nose into your neck. Snuggling into him you ran your fingers through his hair until his breathing evened out again, you truly loved lazy mornings with him although you knew he was going to tease you when he woke up.

a/n: Thank you for reading and supporting my writing, your comments, reblogs and likes mean the world to me. But keep in mine if you send me anon's I will respond however I like xxx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz, @armystay89, @damnyouficc, @roamingpolar, @tara-skyhold, @bakedlilgoonie, @krishastumblernow, @mrsseals16, @fawnpeaks, @leeknowinggg, @uno7, @tanzen-ist-gold, @junebug032

[scare-ard--sleigh]

to have a lover who is made of sand and there are traces of him everywhere all the time ,,, he's in your hair, he's in your pajamas, your shoes -- not just there but embedded, a constant reminder that neither of you ever have to be alone again if you don't want to .

[mismatched-sockss]

remember when i asked you guys who you'd like to see for the time travel au?...

the thing one has to remember when writing time travel - especially when you're trying to have zero continuity plot holes - is the god damn consequences of actions and all these god damn paradoxes that have been and will be existing because of said consequences...

and what happens when you have a lot of ideas but they end up conflicting each other but you want to use them all? exactly, you write more than one... you make it a fucking trilogy. (and ask yourself why you even made a poll, when you end up writing for all three characters anyway....)

so, uh... the whole thing is gonna take more time than i already thought it would take (i'm sorry), BUT i have pretty much planned them all out and have written about a third of each fic!

[spark-circuit]

me at my bookstore job to the 27th young adult straight edgy fantasy romance to come in this month

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

current editing moodboard, please send help

[thepoisonroom]

apologies if this is a dumb question and i won't be offended at all if you dont answer/dont know but since you've worked in libraries before i was curious if you knew how to let your library know you're interested in an audiobook they haven't purchased ? i know i used to be able to make requests on overdrive but since the switch to libby i haven't been able to figure it out. i hope youre having a lovely day whether you can help or not and appreciate you taking the time to read all this 💛

sorry for the late reply, i haven't been online much and just saw this! most public libraries will have a form on their website called something like "purchase request" or "suggest a title" that you can use to request things! people often think this is only for books, but most places will let you request audiobooks, DVDs, etc. librarians won't always add the things you request to the collection, and they often can't explain every decision in detail due to volume, so results may vary.

the one thing to be mindful of is that audiobook/ebook licensing can be really weird, and sometimes publishers do make it really difficult or impossible for libraries to license certain items! so if your library doesn't get something you ask for, that sucks and is disappointing, but please don't hesitate to keep sending in requests as you have them! that info is always super helpful for collections folks looking to add things to the library that they think you'll want and use!

[suusoh]

.

[longagoitwastuesday]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[heich0e]

bff’s brother sukuna with a baby 😳

he already has a child (yuuji) and a baby (reader)

[morningmask27]

Honestly I'm also not fully happy with what they did with Whis this book

[numberoneanika]

Honestly the roleplay blogs are stronger than I am because if I saw a post where people were saying my blog was annoying and calling me corny I would jump in a large pit and rot away