#i need someone to die a tragic death that's why i could watch and read like orange or your lie in april

[miserye]

i'm not gonan do it i'm not gonna do it i'm not gonna fo it i'm not gonna do it

[chaosnojutsu]

Who *Should* Have Died From The Konoha ~12 Instead Of The One Who Did

rules:

we’re assuming they die under the same circumstances as the other guy

each one listed would have a complete storyline and their death would further the immediate plot as well as the overall narrative

i’m not “just picking characters i don’t like”

i do not condone killing characters for the sake of shock value but am considering shock as a legitimate tool in generating impact of a character’s death

miss me with “[redacted]’s death was a tragic result of the shinobi system” because no it was not. if that were true you could sub out [redacted] for any other child soldier and get the exact same impact. we know exactly why they were chosen and it’s got an (insufficient) explanation irl and in-universe.

#3. Sai

Motivation: Friendship

First of all, imagine the shock value from killing one of THE Team Kakashi members.

Cool. Now imagine Naruto’s shock at Sai sacrificing himself for him.

Sai overanalyzes normal human interaction to the point of not understanding it. He reads books about how to befriend people. He still doesn’t understand it all the time but friendship is coming more naturally to him these days. What he does understand is that Naruto is the only chance of winning this war, and he’s down, and the enemy is aiming for him, and Hinata is trying to stop them but she’s on the ground, the spears are in the air and so is Sai, and Naruto is his friend.

He doesn’t need to think about it much deeper than that.

Now imagine Sasuke “What Does ‘Friend’ Mean To You” Uchiha witnessing this, witnessing Naruto’s reaction, and the further effects this may have on his character. After all, Sai was his replacement. If Naruto feels this strongly about losing someone who was decidedly not him but his friend and teammate nevertheless then… maybe.

#2. Rock Lee

Motivation: Youth

Regardless of *how* this one plays out, no one wants to watch the determined, precious, comedic relief die; no one who’s watched this far into the show wants Rock Lee specifically to die. Huge impact already. But we can make it super duper sad because he deserves a memorable death. I see it going one of two ways.

One: Hinata doesn’t even have the time to try to shield Naruto because Rock Lee is faster. Ten-Tails barely launches the attack and Lee’s already taken/attempted to counter the hit. Perhaps this is his eight gates moment. Similar to Sai, Rock Lee would cite the power of friendship in his dramatic death speech, but he also was just… doing his duty. Truly, if you’re in the “Neji was just another tragic child soldier” camp, Rock Lee is the prime example of what I mean when I say you could sub in any child soldier, which I know sounds paradoxical but stay with me. Rock Lee’s entire personality is training harder than anyone else to benefit a system that will ultimately result in his death. If you want to make a point about child soldiers and needless lives lost, Rock Lee is the one to kill.

Two: Rock Lee doesn’t shield Hinata. He shields Neji. But not necessarily on purpose. The scene plays out exactly as written up to the moment Neji activates his byakugan, and the next frame isn’t him falling to the ground, it’s Rock Lee. The usually-somewhat-reserved Neji is devastated, probably in tears, demanding to know why he would do something like this. Rock Lee coughs up a bit of blood. “I was faster than you.” Smile. “I finally beat you…” Serene eyes fall shut. “…rival.”

And now imagine Naruto’s reaction to losing Bushy Brow. Imagine him watching Gai be brought to his knees by a blow that didn’t physically touch him. Imagine Madara incorrectly perceiving that. The implications. The foreshadowing.

#1. Shino

Motivation: Legacy

I’m gonna be real, the writers were never gonna kill off Rock Lee like that, which is the biggest reason Shino has taken the crown as Most Worthy Of A Tragic Death in my book.

This dude has a connection to both Naruto and Hinata (making him equally as good a sacrifice as Neji if that’s the canon criteria). However, unlike most other (male) characters, Shino isn’t shown to have a particularly close friendship with Naruto. The one recurring joke around Shino is that he’s so irrelevant even Naruto can’t remember his name.

But he is good friends with Hinata. And he knows she’ll spend the rest of her life miserable if Naruto dies, and that if she dies right now she will never have gotten her life’s greatest wish.

So Shino goes out in a blaze of glory, and we’ll probably insert something about how Naruto has somehow secretly inspired him all along— or maybe something cynical about how he always wanted to be included by Naruto but never was unless Kiba or Hinata were around, so he’s sacrificed himself to maintain the livelihood of everyone else while not “losing” that friendship himself— and we of course get the touching moment with Hinata (oh just imagine the drama if Shino lay dying and told Hinata “Why did I protect you? It’s simple. The reason is… for the same reason you protected him.” and we find out that the huge secret crush of the show was not Hinata toward anyone, but Shino toward Hinata, never confessing because he knew it would be futile).

Good luck forgetting his name now, Naruto. Now no one will ever forget about Shino Aburame.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Trimax Thoughts Vol. 4 Pt. 3

Alright. Bit of a heavier one for tonight. I want to talk Vash's relation to his own feelings of anger and how these tie into his suicidal thoughts, because it's tragically fascinating and I still can't really make heads or tails out of it - specifically in that I don't think anyone is a reliable narrator in this situation so I'm left a little lost as to who to believe.

(ID: A screenshot of four panels from Chapter 7 of Volume 4 of Trigun Maximum. A conversation between Hoppered and Vash takes place, in which Hoppered says "I bet you want to kill me too, right? Of course you do... You want to tear me limb from limb." A somewhat grainy image of Rem, smile visible but eyes hidden, is shown, before Vash replies, his eyes narrowed, "Yeah... I do..." End ID.)

Warning! I am going to be discussing Vash's no good, very bad mental health. It's nothing worse than what is obvious from a read of the manga but if you're not in the headspace for it, you might want to skip this one. I had a bit of trouble writing it, if I'm being honest.

Volume 4 basically solidified what had kept cropping up all throughout the manga - Vash is keeping himself going only through his goal of "settling the score" with Knives. On the next page, Vash says the following:

"That's why... you can go right ahead and kill me. But... before I give you that chance... before I let you bind me in chains, lock me up, and torture me to death... I will send Knives to hell!"

Yikes buddy. This has been a running bit of characterization all throughout the manga - Vash survives because he has to. He takes small moments of joy where he can, tries to smile even when he's not feeling it, looks on the bright side even when things seem hopeless, because that's the only way he can survive to do what he has to. <- There's nothing especially wrong with this. This is a coping mechanism and as far as his coping mechanisms go, it's not so bad at all. It's actually pretty good, all things considered.

Problem is, he also has to embody the ideal he strives for - that no one needs to die, that he will never kill. And herein lies the issue, because Vash already feels like a monster because of July. Any deviation from the peace loving pacifist image he tries so hard to maintain brings Vash's self-loathing to the surface.

Ex. Vash sees the moon his angel arm blew a hole in and goes from denying culpability for the destruction of July to hardly resisting and calling himself a murderer.

Ex. Vash expresses that he holds murderous sentiment towards Hoppered. He sees this as a justifiable reason for Hoppered to kill him.

Even the thought that he has or could still deviate from his promise made in Rem's memory causes him immense amounts of shame. Vash does not want to harm people. Is it out of love? Is it out of guilt? I think at this point, there's no separating them. Vash doesn't kill out of a mix of these two emotions that are so intertwined in his core they have become inextricable.

The thing is... Vash's driving emotion appears to actually be anger, specifically, anger against Knives. He wants to "settle the score", which is a pretty retributive mentality for someone trying to embody pacifism. In fact, that kind of motivation strongly clashes with that image in a way that imo cannot coexist. It's reasonable in his mind to take that stance against Knives, who is not one of the humans Rem died to save, but against humans, it's unacceptable. So, Vash represses his anger constantly.

A great example of this is watching the contrast between Vash fighting Leonof and Wolfwood fighting Ninelives. Wolfwood fights with his emotions on visceral display; he is loud and cocky and desperate and violent. Vash, on the flip side, is almost dangerously quiet and composed, to the point Wolfwood seems a bit disturbed by it - but it's all repression. He needs to stay focused, his motions are calculated to reduce harm even against the puppets, he's eerily silent and his facial expressions are controlled and muted for the most part; all methods that Vash uses to stay in control (<- this is important!).

Here's the thing. I don't know that I necessarily, fully believe that Vash wants to kill Hoppered. I don't know that I trust anyone's narration in this scene - first of all, Hoppered is mad projecting his animosity onto Vash because he needs to secure the image of Vash as unrepentant destroyer of July; if Vash isn't the demon he believes him to be, his quest for revenge was for nothing (well, sort of. Vash obviously did destroy the city, but the intent was not there - and the latter seems to be what Hoppered is banking his hatred on). Hoppered earlier accused Vash of enjoying the fight... which is pretty clearly not true, so that it was Hoppered who prompted Vash's admittance above is a little suspect. Second, we've seen what Vash looks like when actually violently angry.

(ID: Two separate images screenshotted from the Trigun manga. The first shows Vash raising his gun at a recently reborn Knives, angrily shouting the other's name. The second shows Vash having jammed the barrel of his gun into Monev's eye, clearly close to pulling the trigger. End ID.)

To me, I see little indication in the build up to this of Vash legitimately wanting to kill Hoppered. He had no desire to kill Rai-Dei after all, and that was after he knew the GHG were targeting Home. Hoppered is probably the most sympathetic of the GHG. Vash is also in a self-destructive mindset in this scene, having just called himself a murderer after seeing the damage done to the moon again.

Is he agreeing with Hoppered's projection because he wants Hoppered to continue to hate him enough to punish him for the deaths of all those people? (The image of Rem then becomes symbolic of his having already failed to uphold her sacrifice.) Or should I be taking his words at face value and he really does want to kill Hoppered? (In this case, the image of Rem is out of guilt for voicing something aloud that goes against his image of her.) Is it possible that a combination of his self-loathing in this scene and fear of himself has him agreeing with Hoppered out of resignation that despite his best efforts, he is doomed to destroy? (Like in fifth moon's "we were no good from the start". The image of Rem is thus the image of someone genuinely good and kind to him, an image he feels he cannot embody no matter how hard he tries.)

I find it very ambiguous honestly. Any interpretation is compelling from a character sense. Perhaps they all hold merit to some degree.

Regardless of how you interpret the line though, Vash is obviously angry, and for good reason - Hoppered, Midvalley and Zazie have taken Meryl. He's also likely afraid for her too - dude did jump out a window for like no practical purpose whatsoever before Zazie even finished talking. Like that's really sweet buddy but you accomplished absolutely nothing of use lol. Anyways. The point is, even if Vash was angry enough to want to kill Hoppered (and it would be for this reason, since nothing else would really warrant that), then that still wouldn't make Vash secretly evil and awful - first off, having a thought does not mean you will actually act on it, and second, what's the thing we keep getting shown and told, again and again?

Anyone will pick up a gun when their loved ones are threatened.

It's very natural to feel animosity for a person who may have harmed someone we care about. In that sense, Vash is behaving very human.

However, there's an extra layer here that complicates things. Vash has never been shy about his anger, but I think there is a bit of a progression of Vash kind of... tamping down on it faster, reeling it back in a little sooner after an initial flare of rage. ...Ever since Fifth Moon, actually. We also know that he has a strict training regimen, he does not miss a target, even blindfolded - Vash clearly maintains strong control over himself, all to mitigate the potential damage he could cause.

But then there's his Plant abilities. The angel arm. Something destructive he clearly does not understand, and has little if any control over (never mind that control was literally wrenched away from him but whatever). I don't think it's a stretch to say Vash is terrified of losing control.

Any human can feel hatred and anger and potentially cause moderate amounts of harm and damage, but these are likely to be targeted and can be more easily contained. Vash feels hatred and anger and has the capacity to level a city and blow a hole in a celestial body in the blink of an eye, and there is nothing anyone can do about it. That must be terrifying.

Because, see, the no-killing thing is out of respect for Rem, but Vash also strongly wants to, needs to believe that non-violent solutions are possible, that people are good, that anyone can change. Vash, out of some combination of love and guilt, does not actually want to harm anyone, but Vash is also a living gun just under the surface of his iron self-control. And being reminded of that deeply fucks him up, to the point he believes he is a danger by nature, incapable of living up to the standard of kindness he wants to put into the world, so even just the thought of wanting to inflict harm on another is enough to send him spiraling - because what if that is the point he loses his control? "I should never have been born" indeed...

It's interesting to me that Vash should call Wolfwood out on his lack of hope in a future for the world, when he so clearly has little if any hope in a future for himself. He allots himself no place in the world. Maybe you should allow yourself to heal a little, buddy. You have some people pretty close by who, in spite of it all, like you quite a lot...

[theteasnake]

Die with a smile

I had this idea in my head for a while and just needed to write it out.

As the sun sets, everyone retreats to their home. To have dinner with family, to settle down for slumber, or to just watch some good ol tv. The sun sets and yet you're still standing in your little flower shop.

The street outside the glass door lights up with the automatic lamps. It leaves an eerie feeling, but at this point, it's a norm. Countless lockups lead to over cleaning which leads to more work having to be done. The more time you spend here, the more work you find.

Trim the wilted flowers. Sweep the floors. Wait, mop them, and then sweep them. Oh, some papers need to be filled out. You should organize them alphabetically while you're at it. Actually, scratch that, by date. Oldest to newest. Or maybe newest to oldest?

Why didn't you do this earlier? It's cause you never have time. People come in, they go, more people come in, then they go. And you're only one person and, of course, everyone has questions.

Order flowers. Rearrange some of the showcases. Shit, some bouquets need to be finished by tomorrow, might as well get them done now before you forget.

Late nights, early mornings. How are you even still standing? Caffeine and determination. But even that's starting to lose effect. What was once a beautiful fixation turned into waking up with dread. Sometimes you wish you were still a blissful college student, eyes bright with ambition now dulled from exhaustion and lack of proper sleep.

Your life is lacking. You thought colorful flowers could paint your black-and-white world with the same hues. Now they just stick out like a sore thumb. Unknowingly mocking you. Poetic beauts, aren't they?

You heave a sigh, letting your shoulders sag, as you finish up the last of the work. What time is it? Eleven? No, it's one in the morning. Just like usual.

Things are cleaned. Papers filled out. Tomorrow's orders are done. You run through a mental checklist one last time as you hear a faint chime. The front doorbell rings out, doing its job of notifying you of a customer.

God, people just can't read signs nowadays.

"Excuse me, but we're clo-" You cut yourself off as you stare at a mask within a dark void. No, that mask is attached to someone. Something. Dark clothes barely visible in the low light.

A glimmer of a knife in his hand has you taking a deep breath in. You know who this is. You know how the night will end. But you don't know why.

You're not his usual targets. You're not some common joe. Not some local sunshine that everyone loves. The only thing you offer to others is your flowers. You're not someone that'll draw attention to this little town.

Ah.

Your shop. It will be shut down without an owner. And with it, the town would be deprived of flowers until another shop opens up.

Beloved shop closes due to owner's death. How tragic.

The wind gets knocked out from your lungs as a burning sensation grows in your gut. You gasp and choke on your own breath, leaning against the thing in front of you. Cold leather meets your warm skin.

The knife slowly pulls out, the intruder getting ready to plunge it into your side again.

"W-wait," you weakly paw at his hand, trying to stop him. "One second... please," you plead, eyes fixated on the street, trying to ground yourself.

Your wishes fall on deaf ears as the knife finds a new spot to nestle into. You wheeze out, biting back tears.

He pushes you off of him and you stumble back, finding stability on one of the counters.

Your head is dizzy, adrenaline preventing any feeling of pain but that doesn't stop the numbness slowly creeping up.

You lose your footing, gripping onto the tablecloth as you fall to the ground. Sounds of glass vases hitting the ground echo through the room. But that doesn't matter. It all doesn't matter anymore. Because the most beautiful scene is right in front of you.

Flower petals float about in the moonlight, without a care in the world as they slowly fall to the ground. Acanthus, sticky catchflies, agrimonys, arnicas, celandines, asphodels, and rainflowers.

You reach out as your vision starts to darken, wanting to hold onto something. A sad smile replaces your frown. You're finally able to see what others see. Your colorless world gained hue. And you're dying.

A click and a shutter draws your attention to the looming figure above you. A picture. You want to see it. But it's too late. You can feel yourself slipping.

"It's... beautiful," you whisper out, making the killer pause in his movements. He seemed... confused? Maybe curious. Who knows. You for sure won't.

You close your eyes as you hear the faint chime, letting you know that you are now alone. Alone with your flowers. Alone. But it's peaceful. So quiet. So calm. Yeah, you think you're fine with this. With dying. You don't think you would even want to do anything else after this. You've achieved what you wanted and now it's all over. And that's fine.

[lovestuckyhatemarvel]

Okay so the entirety of the WEBTOON is out and so is the KDrama. Both have, in fact, been out for a bit, but I needed to get my thoughts together. Obviously, if you haven't interacted with either piece of media, this is going to be a spoiler it. I'm specifically going to be talking about suicide and the way it's used in the WEBTOON as this particular character backstory and subsequent original death were both changed a lot. If you don't want to read about suicide, fictional or otherwise, or you don't want spoilers, please don't read on.

And if you want to know what's going on or want to know the full context of the WEBTOON because you've either never engaged with the material or have only watched the show? I recommend reading the comic on manhwa instead of WEBTOON since manhwa seems to be totally free. And in order to not take a while (plus lot of ads since you get 1 free chapter per day + 3 ad chapters that last 3 days) to read it there, you'll need the webtoon app and 15 bucks. And no matter what WEBTOON is gonna really yell at you if you do even a single screenshot.

Okay, to start off with, there are some things that don't change for Mr. Yu regardless of medium. No matter what, at the beginning he's seen as cold and distant. He's also extremely buttoned up and more than a little bit awkward around Jiwon to the point where he actually seemed suspicious to me at first because he was just always around when something was about to happen, and Jiwon did not know why that was happening, so neither did I.

It takes until chapter 46 of the WEBTOON for it to be revealed that Jihyeok also traveled back in time and died before. Up until that point, his goals and motivation are still somewhat mysterious. Even though they are like, fully dating by that point. But I don't consider that the biggest change. After all, the WEBTOON is from Jiwon's POV mostly, and the show took a much more widespread approach, which made sense. Also the show had to condense the entire comic into like, 16 episodes. That's a lot to get through.

So here are the things that I actually consider the biggest changes to his character and I promise I'll explain why those lead to the writer's choice of death for him making way more sense for that version to me.

1.) Jihyeok has known that he was romantically interested in Jiwon since before they officially spoke to each other in college. He even specifically saves Pang (the cat) because Jiwon liked that cat and he saw her interacting with that cat. He even saved the cat for her after Jiwon's ex poisoned the cat (yeah, she's literally always had terrible taste in men before Jihyeok).

2.) He quit his job at U&K after Jiwon married Minhwan in an attempt to move on because he still loved Jiwon. Probably wouldn't have been good to be the boss over the newlywed couple you're secretly like jealous over.

3.) The day Jiwon dies, Jihyeok goes to visit her because he learned she'd fallen ill. He sees her take a cab away from the hospital and isn't sure if he should go talk to her. And then he hears a scream and arrives just in time to see her die. He is devastated and arranges and pays for her entire funeral while wishing he could give his own life to go back to fix his own mistakes. Like literally. We get this information extremely clearly.

I think all of this combined with the fact that otherwise in his life, he's made no other choices for himself, makes Jihyeok killing himself make a sort of tragic sense. And also I've seen people say that there was 'no reason' for him to kill himself, and I've just got to wonder if the people who said that read that chapter at all. He literally says multiple times across 2 flashback chapters why he wants to die. Like I don't agree with suicide, but as someone who has battled, and is still battling, depression my entire life, and knows what it's like when it feels like your life has been kind of chosen for you? Going through a situation that he did has got to be devastating. Like in a completely soul crushing way. And if you have nothing to anchor you in life, it's not surprising when that life ends in heartbreak.

And from a literary standpoint there is something deeply tragic about a man who didn't truly make a decision for himself until it was too late and so the only choice he actually makes is how and when to die. The show has a different sort of tragedy in that he never decides how he lives or dies in the show for his first life. I believe my interpretation is further supported by the webtoon making his new life filled with choice. Like a lot of choices.

He is constantly making actual decisions in his new life.

He actually pursues Jiwon, he stands up for himself and others more at work, he actually ends things with Yura and gets her sent away pretty quickly (she doesn't die in the novel and straight up isn’t in the WEBTOON), and then he actually quits for the right reasons. He quits because he never wanted to run U&K in the first place, so he goes off to run his own company and leaves his sister to run it since she's the one who wanted that life. And she's better at it.

And I honestly think the show makes his character a little weaker for not having his arc focus on his choices, both good and bad. That's not to say he doesn't start making choices in the show, but it's more along the lines of 'I'll actually commit to this choice other people made for me'. Well, with the big exception being marrying Jiwon.

Jihyeok's decision to take his own life wasn't a good decision. It's not one I can agree with in real life, but from a writing choice, I like it for the story way more than a random car accident. I like the implications for the character and his arc way more if it's intentional. I think it's a stronger choice if this time he chooses to live and not to die. And also I really liked how it got then mirrored in Minhwan inadvertently killing himself with what was supposed to kill Sumin. I feel like overall the deaths in the WEBTOON in general, but especially with Jiwon, can be governed by the idea of choice, and the show lost that a little bit.

Also in the comic he literally opens his eyes and the first thing he hears and sees in his new life is Jiwon and you cannot tell me that's not the cutest fucking thing.

[sunflower1experiment]

“Master!”

Everyone bowed, well except you. You kneeled, then got up seeing as you were the captive.

“My children, I sense a presence. Who is this?”

“None of your business that’s what.” Venom seethed through your voice and the Hashira’s glares at you.

“Eh? You all wanna be angry at me? Ya should’ve been angry when I was a kid. Your master should’ve been there when I was little. Now he has you useless goons.” A sneer leaves your lips, “I ain’t spittin on em, disrespectful as hell but I do have this to say.”

You stare dead at him. “Why didn’t you come to save me when I needed you!? Was killing humans not on your agenda!? Why didn’t you just kill me!?”

The male’s gaze softens, and he lifts his hand. “Dear..I sense you recognize me, and yet we’ve never met.” A shock look rests on your face. “What do you mean!?” You grit your teeth.

“That’s enough out of you! Why did you attack one of our own.”

“SHUT IT SCAR FACE!” You pant, “I wasted so long searching for one of you and I’m met with disappointment!? All I asked is that you killed me! Was that to much!? Was I to good for you!? Y’all call yourselves heroes!?”

“If that’s the case.” A man stands up, lifting his weapon, “I can end your misery right now.”

“….Y-You would?”

“What’s the matter? No sense in being afraid-“ you kneel. “Please…let me join my loved ones..” the male stares.

Your eyes water, the fresh tears cascade down your face. “You all disappointed me before. I killed everyone in that damned village. None of you even realized they were killing each other, sending us off to demons.. I lost my precious one because of them. And if I just stay around longer…I’ll be stuck in this damned limbo of pain.”

“What exactly is it that your people do?”

Your eyes look up, “…..Your Vital points are your shoulders and ears. My people were able to see vital points within the human body and cut them.” It shocks a few for how easily you read the male.

“Tengen?”

The male sheaths his swords. “They’re right.”

“Why would someone as valuable as you want to die?”

“Because only the women there could do that! My mother was the few who could and it led to men desperately using her to find ways to kill others, control people and even worse. We were targets.” You grip the pebbles. “I was born, my little sister. She had a husband and of course folks were naive to try to force women like her to marry!”

“Those idiots didn’t realize once the husband died she goes self destructive. Or she’d persevere the body for experiments, they loved each other dearly and she died cuz of everyone’s foolishness….all you idiots had to do was kill me so it’d end. I don’t have him with me…he’s outta my eye sight.”

“So why not live?”you look up and a girl aims her gaze elsewhere, “You can’t just give up because someone else isn’t there…and you’re not very dangerous…”

“D-Don’t tell me what I am! You don’t even know me.”

“Well so far from your story you just sound like a tragic person who won’t even try to make do with their skills-“

You grip your pants, “This is why I’d rather be killed by him…that one Hashira…with beautiful scarlet dark hair…he had a gaze of determination and hatred towards me and yet. He never killed me. That boy could’ve done it. And yet you all let him leave.”

“Tanjiro cannot kill you dear.” Everyone watched as you shut your eyes, “…..You may stay here if you need to but I must ask you. How did you survive so long? Demons can’t be killed without swords.”

“Don’t need a sword when you cut the middle of their heads and necks…it releases a pressure of pain that lets their deaths be peaceful. As if demons actually escape the mind…”

—

I consider this a preview of my story. Some changes will obviously be made but yea so far I like where it’s going

[suuho]

hiii friend i hope you are doing well! i was wondering if i could ask for meta analysis of this (https://www.tumblr.com/suuho/708647383291002880/vincenzo-2021-sending-my-love-from-the-other) edit you made? like what the lyric meant to you in relation to the gifs/vincenzo and han seo, and like those lyrics mean to vincenzo about han seo; if they are about them?

this is silly and you don’t have to answer ofc heh!! i just adoreee that edit and think about it all the time heh the vincenzo community needed it heh. thank u sm!!!

hi!! i'm hanging in there, i hope you're well too!! sorry that this took a few days to answer but i had work, and also i wanted to take my time and answer this properly because that's what an analysis should be. fair warning, i haven't had that much sleep so i hope any of this makes sense, and it's also been a minute since i've made that set. (read more cause very long)

so, the edit in question. funnily enough, i pretty much knew i wanted to make this set in some capacity since that song by fall out boy was released (great song, btw) and it took a little while to formulate those thoughts into something coherent, and then to actually sit down and make that gifset. most of the stuff i make i have a vague idea of what it's supposed to look like, but this one surprised me with the overlays and the blending; i didn't expect it to look like that in the end, but i love the colors and i love it for what it is. vinzenco is obviously coded in blue and hanseo in orange/yellow, and i purposely did that. i think, hanseo's death was such an impactful moment in the show, even more than the death of vincenzo's mother, because up until then, we had watched hanseo go through heavy, positive character development, and as a viewer, that makes you root for him. actually, we have been made to root for him way earlier in the show, when we find out hanseo is a victim of abuse by his own older brother (who turns out to not be a goofy paralegal, so in that sense, they have turned the tables narratively on what jang brother to sympathize with), and is willing to change.

i think a lot of hanseo's conflict and character boils down the fact that his abuser is his own brother, someone he is conditioned to love by societal pressures and norms, and that he knows he should love in a familial way, and that he finds himself clinging to because it is all he has left of his family. he has nowhere else to go, no way out, until he meets vincenzo. it is hard to escape an abuser, and the fact that hanseo manages to do so by his own will, and with vincenzo's help, only to in the end die by the hands of his brother anyways? god, that is so tragic. that is why his death hurts so much more than the others in the show. anyways, i am digressing somewhat.

but! the edit in question. the first gif is pretty obvious in relation to the second: i wanted to show a moment in hanseo's life in which he was truly happy, a moment he spent with vincenzo. has vincenzo ever allowed himself an affection like that towards anyone? to hanseo, of course, vincenzo fills a role that has been misappropriated his entire life: the part of hyung, a big brother role that hanseok never managed to remotely tend to in the way he should have. hanseo does not have any hyungs in his life, he doesn't have someone he can trust like that, that he can love like that (i won't deny that i am a hanseo/vincenzo enthusiast because i do love them together, and i do not think of them as ~brothers in that sense, but as a mere narrative tool, that is the position vincenzo fills for hanseo in his life and in the show).

i wish we would have seen more of their quiet moments together, because i think they both gave each other something they had been missing until then.

the middle gif, of course. god, when will that scene not hurt like hell. that is more in relation to the caption and the gif after. in vincenzo's life and in the mafia, there is only way to avenge, and that is an eye for an eye. blood for blood. but the fact that vincenzo chose the cruelest punishment for hanseok specifically? that is purely motivated by the loss of hanseo. what would you trade the pain for? vincenzo chose a knife. and what did hanseo trade the pain for? a glimpse of happiness. if you are dead by the end of the story, you are dead at the beginning of it. that's how it works.

if you look at the song in general, i just love how it speaks to the both of them.

especially the pre-chorus but more so this entire first part of the song is so hanseo for me. the city always hangs a little bit lonely on me, loose / like a kid playing pretend in his father's suit. think about the starched-white shirts and high collars he wears, partly to hide the bruising of the abuse, partly like an armor, and how he lets go of it when he is around vincenzo. hanseo is quite literally playing pretend in his own life; he is controlled by his brother who continuously drills into him that he won't amount to anything, that he is stupid, that he is worthless. but hanseo is neither stupid nor worthless; he is smart, can think on his feet, is mechanically gifted. he is funny. he laughs the way someone laughs who's surprised by his own, actual laugh because he hasn't heard it in so long. his real laugh, not some approximation of it.

model house life meltdown still a modern dream letdown, it kills me / you know i'm dying out here / what would you trade the pain for? if you are dead at the end of the story, you are dead at the beginning of it. i think, hanseo is aware that he is slowly dying as a victim of his circumstances, figuratively and literally. which is what makes him reckless enough to even seek out vincenzo. a lot of hanseo's life is lived with the desperation of a dead man walking.

that bridge is such a gut-wrencher, my god. but this is the part that i find speaks more broadly to vincenzo. like i said, the loss of hanseo is what ultimately made him take a deliberately cruel, downright mortifying approach to his vengeance, to his punishment. and you were the sunshine of my lifetime / what would you trade the pain for? is obviously more in relation to vinzenco's relationship with hanseo. at least, in the intent of this set.

that goes hand in hand with i saw you in a bright-clear field, hurricane heat in my head / the kind of pain you feel to get good in the end, good in the end. that is just, exactly the scene when vinzenco confronts hanseok the last time, and remembers hanseo. whew. my god. what a gut punch.

other than that, i mostly just wanted the set to go from light to dark, because i think killing hanseok the way he did was in many ways a breaking point for vincenzo, hence all the shadows he finds himself in, and the fact that hanseo's death is the reason for it? absolutely insane. give up what you love before it does you in. vinzenco couldn't give it up, not even the memory of hanseo, and so he let it kill a part of hinself as well. he chose the knife to trade for the pain. anyways. i hope that was somehow helpful for you! thank you so much for your question!

[the-bird-and-the-flute]

Nightshade - Chojiro's route - Review

warning: mentions of death, incest and suicide

Chojiro’s route has a lot of angst. Not only because MC was unfairly accused of killing Hideyoshi, but Chojiro himself had to deal with his own concept of loyalty throughout his route. Also, lots of their friends died in vain because they had no idea the 5 elders, and Hideyoshi used them as playthings just for political reasons and to entertain some disgusting lords who were probably bored.

He was raised to be a shinobi, he was proud to be one and he didn’t have problems following rules from his master – MC’s father. But, as his feelings for MC grew during their mission, he questioned himself several times about what was he supposed to do: be loyal to MC or to their clan.

He tried his best to do as he was told, but, at some point, he just couldn’t fight against his feelings for her. That’s why he couldn’t kill her. His CG trying to kill her was probably my favorite of his route. When she grabbed his sleeves while he was strangling her, it was very cute and tragic at the same time. She used to do that when they were kids and he was escorting her home after training.

Even though they didn’t have much time to interact with each other during his own route –  MC was trying to escape with some of her friends while he was trying to move on with his life as a shinobi – he did care a lot about her and wanted her to survive, even knowing that maybe they would never see each other.

Chojiro is a kind guy deep inside, he just doesn’t show it much. He is very stoic and strict but has a good sense of justice. He also cared a lot about his disciples.

There is not much romance in this route, to be honest. I don’t know if all routes are like that (that’s my first) but if you are looking for tragedy and some plot twists, this is the one to go.

But I don’t recommend it if you think it’s boring to read routes that the LI doesn’t interact much with MC. Also, you’ll have to deal with incest here as Chojiro is blood-related to MC. Enju’s mother is Chojiro’s aunt.

However, there is no NSFW content. MC is a minor (16) so it would be very unlikely they would write descriptive scenes.

Something I’d like to see in his route was the handkerchief she gave to Chojiro before their lives turned upside down. Chojiro mentioned that he didn’t care about things in general because in his life he was used to losing things that were important to him. They could have used that handkerchief as a symbol of their relationship not only as friends but also as lovers.

I think Chojiro is a great character, but after reading his route I just know he is not going to be my favorite. As for his MC, I didn’t like her personality. I really liked Enju during the prologue and the main route. She was strong, brave, and a hard-working shinobi.

But for some reason, in Chojiro’s route, she was very passive. Unlike other otome MCs, this one can actually fight, but when she could have done something to help her friends, she just stood there as a statue while her friends were killing each other.

Obviously, I understand her being depressive as she was innocent and didn’t know how to get out of that situation, but it seemed out of character for her to just watch her friends dying when she could have intervened.

I think their relationship makes sense to me. In Japan, dating relatives was not a problem back in the day and she admired Chojiro. She wanted to be a shinobi as strong as him.

And they had similar personalities too. I totally agree with Goemon when he said they were very alike not because they wanted to work as shinobi, but due to their pessimism and loyalty to the clan. They were both ready to die for the cause if necessary.

I don’t know if I would choose him as the best boy for Enju as I think she needed someone more enthusiastic about life as Goemon, but I still have all the other routes to explore, so I may change my mind after doing the other LIs.

[kamaluhkhan]

jo.....my friend....just reading the summary i can tell this is going to be beautiful and heart-wrenching.....and i am SO ready

Little Luke, with bandaged knees and feet that move as fast as his motor mouth, amber eyes glinting like windchimes in the summer breeze.

this image of little luke....my HEART

Of course, you’re here, and the irony grips him by the neck almost as if to make it known why his home feels like home again.

always in awe of how beautifully you write trouble x luke and how they are just instinctively intuitively connected even given the circumstances!!!

Well, shit. He’s been leading demigods to their deaths every summer and you’ve been trying to cure his mentally ill mother in the time you don’t spend trying to stop him.

crying already. also i love how you incorporate trouble's powers/abilities as a child of dionysus and how she uses them to help may!! it reflects trouble's lingering relationship with/feelings towards luke, but also just shows who she is as a person, someone who deeply cares for others

While you were at the supermarket, he spent an hour trying to explain to his mother that he needed her blessing to swim in the River Styx. Through nuances and veiled simplicity in the words he weaved to convince her, there wasn’t much opposition in her half-empty, half-prophetic mind. May always knew that Luke loved to swim when she took him to the beach, and that was that.

alexa play "i know the end" by phoebe bridgers. i have no words, just more tears.

The silence goes on for a beat too long—he whispers, “You still talk about me? Your boyfriend must hate that.” “Why wouldn’t I want to talk about you? For anyone to get to know me, they have to know you.”

the chemistry !!!! even when they're on opposite sides of a war is UNMATCHED!!!

“Those things will kill you one day,” you mumble, watching him lean against the windowpane. It’s what he used to always tell you so that you’d quit, but old habits die screaming. It’s another vice you refuse to let go of. “Wanted to try something new before I…” his voice drops off. 

this is so tragic. i once again have no words.

He knew this body once too— every birthmark, scar, and dimple. Who else has had the privilege to navigate the ridges of your spine, to know the pressure of your kiss? A tattoo peeks out to say hello at your hip bone. There are new stories and new marks, there are parts of you unknown to him now. Luke thinks that must be what hurts most about each time he leaves you.  But then why does this feel so good?

jo you weave together these LAYERS of tension so beautifully?? the comfort and familiarity between them vs the tragic reality of them being apart and WHY and what's gonna come next??? once again in tears

“Damn spot wouldn’t get out,” you sniff, turning away to look out the window and think of anything but him, but he’s everywhere even when he’s not here, so much so that it suffocates you. Guilt lines every shaking breath you take until lavender eyes meet amber at the sensation of her clasping your red and raw palms with a dishtowel. 

okay lady macbeth!!! this is the only reference i caught....it's been a while since i've read it BUT i would love to hear more about the references throughout.

the greek AND shakespearean tragedy of it all..... also yes....this is VERY "the prophecy" by taylor swift coded my heart is forever shattered and i love it

anyways, jo !!!! thank u for continuing to bless us with your literary genius. btw i'm convinced that you could do macbeth but shakespeare could not do the trouble!verse....

love me dry

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.5k

summary: (post-TLT) The one where he meets you at his mother’s house, though both of you didn’t expect the other to be there. A glimpse into May Castellan’s perfect day (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: sorry for the hiatus! been on the study grind and didn’t even notice, but i’ve been working on this for a bit! macbeth references (comment if you catch them/or ask and i’ll yap) and slight suggestive stuff under the cut—but anyways let’s just say the prophecy by taylor swift came out at the right time.

(posted 4/19/24, semi-edited)

—

The drive to Westport has become almost an afterthought in these past few years— in the way you unconsciously reach for your favorite hoodie on the way out the door or tuck in your chair before you leave a table, almost automatic but ingrained with a touch of care. With letters to May Castellan occupying your passenger seat instead of the boy who wrote them, you’d make the drive multiple times but stop short just before the property line. It took months of parking at the bottom of the hill and just watching the sun set on the little house, so clearly being able to imagine a smaller version of him running around and wreaking havoc. 

Little Luke, with bandaged knees and feet that move as fast as his motor mouth, amber eyes glinting like windchimes in the summer breeze. His mom must’ve watched him play by himself through the bay window before calling him home when the clouds covered the horizon, wispy tendrils stretching over the rain gutter like how lovers hold hands. It must’ve reminded her a lot of his father, leaving nothing but the open air in his wake. Still, all of this was familiar to you too—despite having never stepped foot in the white house.

But knowing Luke meant knowing his home like it was a part of you.

The old hatchback’s engine gently rumbled against the quiet of the property each time you visited, and May would wait for you to come near— waiting for you to be ready to walk into a mausoleum of the boy you both once knew. You were familiar to her too, even as a blurry figure hunched over the steering wheel. She’s seen your face in the small glimpses between the shattering earth of her reality and the hazy foresight she lets herself succumb to remember what her son looks like. In every vision of him since he’s left, you’ve been there; and something about that quells the pain and anguish that it brings to her body when she sees it. But May Castellan is ever an observant woman, gift of prophecy aside. A mother always knows.

It also turns out that she makes excellent conversation over a plate of slightly singed chocolate chip cookies.

—

Luke Castellan is years older than the version of him that last sat at this kitchen table. He doesn’t know if he’s any wiser for it—wondering if he’s made a mistake in coming back here after all this time as he watches his mom hustle around the kitchen that’s suspiciously sparkling clean. A silver spoon clinks against the glass pitcher that May stirs mixed berry Kool-Aid in, his favorite, he remembers, and it makes him squint against the light that filters through the gauzy curtains of the windowpane above the sink. Luke could’ve sworn that there used to be badly patched rips in the fabric, but he attributes it to the dark corner of his memory he still hides away like a secret. Sitting there and taking it all in, he wonders what it would’ve been like to actually grow up here—to stay, for once. 

But that’s something he doesn’t have the privilege of knowing. When his mom turns to hand him a glass with her shaking hands, wrinkles and laugh lines are mapped across the expanse of her face. He’ll never know how they got there. The wooden chair creaks under him, groaning under the weight that he carries and Luke once again feels uncomfortable in a place he once called home. 

“Knew you’d come back. A mother always knows,” May mutters, voice disembodied like she’s floating just out of reach. Her hands clasped over his, rubbing her thumbs over the veins as if she’s checking his pulse (or the possibility of him being an apparition) and the crack in her smile mirrors his. But this isn’t the home he remembers—his frontal lobe was underdeveloped back then and the only plan it could form was the one to get him the hell out of Westport, there’s something different in the details. Tiny things, like the patio swing chain reattached to its post, a mended table leg, and ceramic tiles on the countertop unbroken and smooth. This is a home and a mother he once longed for as a kid, along with the feeling of comfort and safety you can only attribute to a place like this. Calculating eyes scan the perimeter of the kitchen, but no one knows he’s made the trip to Westport, not even his own crew. Surely nothing could mess this up for him, not here. This was his last step before his quest for redemption eats away at his physical body, and then it will all be out of his hands. 

There’s not much left for me here, he thinks— there’s not much of me left here, either.

Then Luke hears you before he sees you—the sound of you humming under your breath mixed with the jingle of keys turning in the front door. With bags of groceries leaving marks on your arms and a soft smile he hasn’t seen you wear in ages, for once you look lighter again. For a moment, the thought crosses his mind that this must be what you look like when he’s not around. Nonetheless, he breathes easier when you’re near. Of course, you’re here, and the irony grips him by the neck almost as if to make it known why his home feels like home again.

“Yeah hon, I’ll have to call you back,” you laugh into your headphones before tapping them with one free finger to end the call. In a split second, your eyes meet. Staggering back at the sight of him sitting at the table and the absolute grin on May’s face, you decide to continue into the space ahead and start putting the groceries away like nothing is out of sorts. 

“I see you have a visitor, Miss May. Is he staying long?”

Luke sips at his glass, juice extra tart just how he likes it. His lips pucker at the taste it leaves in his mouth and when he opens his mouth there’s a hint of blue. You try not to look too long.

“For the night,” he answers, even if you weren’t talking to him, but it makes May so vibrant with the notion of him not running again that she instantly hops to her feet and rushes to make the bed in his old room. “I won’t be in your way,” he swallows. You gravitate towards him like a moth to a flame, but move around his chair without touching him—further proving that Luke is, in fact, an obstacle you must overcome. He’s a stranger in his own home and you’ve found yourself at ease in it. You wonder if any of that will make a difference in the long run.

“She’s…”

“More peaceful. I’ve been practicing with my dad, so I do what I can to ease her fits but I’m not exactly equipped to lift a curse from Hades,” you mutter through a bitten lip. Luke stares at you but it feels nostalgic, like someone on the outside looking in. Well, shit. He’s been leading demigods to their deaths every summer and you’ve been trying to cure his mentally ill mother in the time you don’t spend trying to stop him.

“I don’t think I even remember the last time she made sense while talking to me,” he laughs hollowly. You purse your lips and shrug, “I visit her every two weeks. She still has her triggers, and she gets confused but she’s not in pain. Your letters helped.”

“Is that why you came here then?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” you joke feebly. It falls flat and yet he still smiles, even when you say, “They weren’t for me.”

“They were about you. All of them were.”

You know that too. May makes you read them to her before bedtime as you stroke her hair and send her off to Hypnos. You’ve relived your relationship with Luke a million little times, and he’s written about you and all of your yesterdays like it was the only glimpse of Elysium he’d ever reach. In those letters, you get to remember the good parts of being in love—laughing in the empty amphitheater, holding hands under the dining table, sneaking kisses in the strawberry fields. 

You used to understand each other so well: every dream, every feeling. But there is nothing you understand about the man sitting across from you now. The both of you sit at the kitchen table and there is nothing more to say.

Luke doesn’t have to stay. While you were at the supermarket, he spent an hour trying to explain to his mother that he needed her blessing to swim in the River Styx. Through nuances and veiled simplicity in the words he weaved to convince her, there wasn’t much opposition in her half-empty, half-prophetic mind. May always knew that Luke loved to swim when she took him to the beach, and that was that.

There was nothing more to say.

—

He knows it’s too good to be true when moments later May’s screams carry through the halls of the little house, down the stairway you’re currently clambering up to reach her. By the time his boots reach the second landing, he finds the two women he loves most in a huddle against the linen closet, his mother’s glowing green eyes and empty groans rattling him to the bone. If he were any smaller, he’d be shaking. Even now he doesn’t know what to do— feet frozen as he watches you brush her curls away from her face and lull her to solace.

“Can’t find Luke’s sheets—he needs the Toy Story ones…” May mutters as she rocks on her heels, “My boy needs to be home…He’s meant to be home!” Her fingernails are cutting into your wrists and then she silences with a wave of your hand.

“He’s home, Miss May. He’s right there,” you whisper. When your eyes look at Luke, you watch him crumble—the cracks in his fortitude tumbling like fallen rocks at the sight of the two of you and then you see him. The boy you met at 14 who was angry at the world for making him run away from his mother and the hands of fate until it crept up to snuff him out for the sake of a prophecy foretold by deities who will never understand what it’s like to be human. But there are no second chances, and there is nowhere left to run. “He’s here for you. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”

“I see it, the two of you together. The worst will be over soon, and then it’ll all make sense,” she says breathily, licking her lips and straightening herself like nothing happened. Even after you send her off to prepare a basket for the beach, Luke doesn’t move when his mother pats his arm and walks around his body and towards the stairs. Neither of you speak until your fingers touch his jaw lightly, and Luke doesn’t know if you’re trying to help him or inspect him. He tilts down to look at you anyway.

“She thinks we’re still together.”

He blinks. Somehow that’s the most shocking thing he’s heard today. Fate is most definitely cruel and fucked up because he never expected it to be like this—once upon a time he hoped he could take you home to meet his mother when everything was said and done; no shackles from Titans or pressure from the gods. It was supposed to be different.

“The letters probably didn’t help as much as you thought they would then,” he mumbles, calloused hands guiding your hands over to his swiftly beating heart. You scoff, “Neither does bringing up my boyfriend. She thinks it’s you.” He’d believe anyone who’d say they watched you yank his heart out of his chest with that statement, everything bloody in your hands. It’s still yours, even if you don’t want it.

“Kit?”

You shake your head and shrug, “That was forever ago. But he treats me well.”

Luke wants to ask more but by the tension in your shoulders, he knows not to push. He’s not entitled to know anything more than what you give him. It’s not his place anymore. So his brow furrows at your next suggestion.

“Just pretend, Luke. For the day, so your mom doesn’t get agitated. I’m not asking for much here.”

It’s a terrible, terrible idea—even you know that. But you both have always been good pretenders. Liars, a voice corrects in the back of your mind. You reason that it’s for May and insist upon that fact, even if the heartbroken girl you left at Camp Half-Blood is raging at you from deep inside the recesses of your mind that you hide her in. What’s one day with him compared to the many you’ve gone without? You don’t need to know the rest of why he’s here, or what more he’s going to do— and you don’t ask. 

Not knowing has always hurt less.

—

You’ve forgotten how good Luke is at playing the part of a good boyfriend. He offers to drive to the beach, carries the picnic basket and blanket for you all to sit on, and listens intently when May asks about your college classes. There’s no discomfort in the way he holds your hand as you walk in the sand or dusts your feet off before laying them across his lap. It’s easy to laugh at his bad jokes, it’s easy to act like the boyfriend you describe is anything like him (even if he’s the complete opposite), and it’s too damn easy to fall into the familiar rhythm that is you and Luke. The three of you lay down as the spring breeze covers you from the rest of reality, hiding away from the truth of a broken woman and two ex-lovers. By late afternoon, you find yourself enjoying it, and it’s cruel how the guilt isn’t rolling off you in waves, instead longing for him to follow you anywhere. 

He meets you by the shoreline with both of you waist-deep in the water. May’s collecting seashells but she turns to look at you two every so often like she’s framing this memory in her fragile mind. Without saying it out loud, the both of you hope it will hold. 

“She always talks about you, you know? Even without trying,” you mutter as saltwater pours from your fingers to the valleys made by the veins in his forearms. It’s like initiating touch without the consequences of actually doing it, and he immerses himself in the feeling as it spills over him, feet rocking against the tide. 

“I do too. Can’t help it.”

When the sea ripples once more pushing you against the wall of his body, you end up holding on, and he doesn’t let go. You both smell like salt and sunshine, pressed together and nothing has made more sense. The silence goes on for a beat too long—he whispers, “You still talk about me? Your boyfriend must hate that.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk about you? For anyone to get to know me, they have to know you.”

Your shirt is stuck to your skin in the surf and Luke’s hands brush over the waistline of your underwear, daring to reacquaint himself with your touch and spur a reaction from you. You may be the best actress he’s ever known but anything is better than watching you be complacent with the false niceties of the day.

“There isn’t much worth knowing.”

“I’d never say that, Luke,” jaw tensing, you let out a breath when his hands encircle your hips, hidden in plain sight in the deep of the ocean. He chuckles and the sound tickles your brain to remind you it's the type of laugh he spits out when he’s hiding his anger, “There’s a lot we’re both not saying.” Your name slips past his lips, sneaking past your defenses and hitting you head-on like a bullet.

“Why?”

Why are you doing this? Why are you helping his mother, why aren’t you actively fighting and turning him in, why are you letting him hold you if he’s only going to leave again—there are too many questions and only one clear answer.

“Because it’s out of our hands, isn’t it, Luke? You love your mother but you wouldn’t have come here unless it’s too late. Annie told me you went to see her in San Francisco.”

He was never here to make amends or save face. There was no version of him that was going to ask you to run away with him because he knows you deserve more than always running from fate. He’d do it all over again as long as you got this— the life you’re living with your college degree, your boyfriend, and your happy family— and Luke has no place in that.

A dry laugh bubbles from his throat, sticking like seafoam when he says, “You hate San Francisco.” 

You wouldn’t have come. 

—

By the time you get home for dinner, your skin is sensitive and tingly from the heat of the sun. May’s tracing circles into the back of your hand as she leads you up the patio steps. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that makes you sway against the doorway.

“Too much time having fun,” she mumbles, patting your cheek, “Take a cold shower dear. Join us when you’re ready?” Luke’s eyes follow you all the way up the stairs and then again, he’s left to his own devices.

Most of the said shower was spent thinking about what your friends would say about you for playing house with the enemy. The guilt felt like ice along your spine, paralyzing you for wanting to be selfish, to choose what makes you happy even if it fucks the rest of the world. But looking in the mirror afterward was scarier—you recognized the girl that stared back at you as someone you thought you’d never see again. A version you left behind years ago, with her head held high and so sure of herself with your Luke by your side. 

Surely, there’s no harm in indulging in this vice for the rest of the night. Not when you haven’t felt this relaxed in years.

Dinner is being served by the time you make your way back downstairs. It’s a simple dish you taught Luke how to make back at camp when you raided the kitchens at midnight. Nothing special, reminding you of your own home—but the fact that he remembered makes your smile widen as you take a seat and promise to wash the dishes. Luke chuckles the type that makes his eyes crinkle in mirth once he watches you dig into your meal, knees brushing under the table like old times. 

Everything feels easier after that.

“Today was the best day,” his mother mutters as you tuck the covers under her chin. May kisses both of your cheeks before she shuts her eyes and you gently fold the letter she chose tonight back into her nightstand for safekeeping. This time, you read her the story of your first kiss with Luke sitting at the foot of her bed in the dim light of her room. It’s less scary here than he remembers, but maybe it’s because this time there’s no screaming and him running to hide in the closet. Your voice is much more pleasant than those suppressed memories, immersing you all in a more pleasant one— the both of you in the amphitheater kissing on the stage with his hands in your belt loops. Luke could recite every word on that page if it meant he could go back in time, not with Backbiter but with you, just to live through that moment again. I think I’m falling in love with her, is how the letter ended but by then he already knew. Writing it down to tell his mother always made it real. 

This, you, right here—everything is real.

He’s silent even as he watches you smoke through the cracked window of his childhood bedroom, and you’re surprised when he steals a puff. His hands are shaking under the moonlight and suddenly it’s clear that he’s scared. Everyone feels fear, but in all the years that you’ve known him, Luke Castellan has never let you see it.

“Those things will kill you one day,” you mumble, watching him lean against the windowpane. It’s what he used to always tell you so that you’d quit, but old habits die screaming. It’s another vice you refuse to let go of.

“Wanted to try something new before I…” his voice drops off. 

Lose myself. 

Lose you. 

Luke coughs as the smoke enters his lungs, a momentary rush hitting him brought by the nicotine. Your hands go to cup his jaw as you set your forehead against his, a silent plea for him to just be honest if there’s truly nothing left to lose.

“I’m out of time, trouble. It’s out of my hands.”

Shuddering at the feeling of him tracing every ridge of your spine, you think the way he says your nickname sounds like the way he used to say I love you. It’s raining outside now, the harsh pitter-patter of wet drops drowning out the sound of your voice, “What can I do? Is there anything left for me to do?” When his head shakes, your noses brush, and your breaths intermingle, almost magnetic. Perhaps the rain is getting in from the open window and you feel it hitting your cheek until you see the shine of his eyes.

“You think I did this because of you. I know you do, but you need to know I did all of this for you, trouble. I choose you and me. Every time,” Luke gasps, intertwining his fingers with yours, the both of you pushing and pulling in this embrace like the moon with the tide.

“Luke…” 

You’re pressing yourself against him, face hidden in his shirt as your brain catches up to your heart, hasty breaths and every atom of your being screaming to be held together by him and then you’re on him, through tears and clenched fists tumbling towards the tiny twin bed. The only way he likens himself to his father is his yearning to be a true traveler, but what he knows best out of anything in this entire world is you. He knew this body once too— every birthmark, scar, and dimple. Who else has had the privilege to navigate the ridges of your spine, to know the pressure of your kiss? A tattoo peeks out to say hello at your hip bone. There are new stories and new marks, there are parts of you unknown to him now. Luke thinks that must be what hurts most about each time he leaves you. 

But then why does this feel so good?

Warm palms caress your waist, nudging your shirt up in the hopes that this will be enough compensation for all his misdoings—the tears you’ve cried, the anger you’ve felt, the things you had to do and will have to do because of him. Luke is someone who’s gotten comfortable with manipulating time, but time has manipulated him and all of his plans for the both of you. Sleepy setback bedroom eyes meet his own that glow in the gentle light of the lamp on the nightstand. Maybe if you pretend again his childhood bedroom can turn into the star-speckled darkness of cabin 12. You can just lay down and tuck underneath his arms waiting for him to fall asleep. But he stays up this time, making you hiss at the feeling of his lips against your neck.

 “We can’t… Angelface,” you say breathily, still leaning into the trail he marks across the valley of your collarbone, “We’re not together anymore.” 

A kiss is placed on your pulsepoint, knocking against the cord of your necklace.

“We shouldn’t… I have a boyfriend.”

Another kiss rests against the warmth of your forehead.

“We’re on opposite sides of a war… You’re my enemy.”

Finally, his lips meet yours, for a moment as if to test the waters.

“Not tonight,” he says, and there is no other option but to agree. There is a lifetime to make up for in a night, and fuck it—they’ll crucify you anyway. You were never meant to be a hero, that’s what he always wanted. You just wanted him. Your head hits the pillow and he looms over you until you’re pulling him in for more than what’s necessary to accept an apology.

There’s nothing left to lose.

—

Before your mind can wake up dreading the consequences of last night, your socked feet take you to the kitchen to clean up the mess you’ve both left behind. The old floorboards creak underfoot and there’s a method in the way you’re washing the dishes, hot water and soap starting to seep through your shirt sleeve but you choose not to notice. Scrubbing at the dirt and grime left behind on the porcelain until your fingers start to prune, a lump forms in your throat before you can stop it. Maybe if you scrub hard enough at the glass that Luke drank out of last night it can eventually be clean. But it’s taking you longer than you thought, jaw tensing and fingers turning white at how hard you’re holding on. May appears behind you, guiding your hands away from the scalding water, and though you resist— the glass drops into the sink and shatters with a loud crack.

“Damn spot wouldn’t get out,” you sniff, turning away to look out the window and think of anything but him, but he’s everywhere even when he’s not here, so much so that it suffocates you. Guilt lines every shaking breath you take until lavender eyes meet amber at the sensation of her clasping your red and raw palms with a dishtowel. 

You see him in her too.

“His fate is greater than the cards he’s been dealt with. You know that.” 

It’s the clearest and most sensible May’s spoken in days. Perhaps when it comes to Luke, she’ll always know better. Eyes darting elsewhere to fight the tears that brim at your lash line, you look down at your swollen hands, palm up towards the heavens almost imploring, “Why couldn’t it be me?” 

The question’s direction is unclear and you don’t expect to get an answer, turning away to grab some ice from the freezer and she remains standing there—staring at the windowsill at a compass that’s now found its home next to the faded picture of a man who’s left more times than there are reasons to stay. Just like his father, she thinks, a small smile quirking at the side of her lip where a scar would meet her son’s. Clicking it open delicately like how she used to hold his hand, there’s a photo of you and Luke resting against the cover ripped away from a memory frozen in time.

“It is you,” May says quietly, though you’ve already left the room.

A mother always knows, after all.

—

“Aphrodite,” I pleaded to the moon-drenched night sky. “Tell me; if love is meant to heal, then why does it destroy those who choose it?” From somewhere beyond the clouds, I heard the Goddess laugh. And I knew. -Nikita Gill

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 1/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is. 

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: Family death, cancer, absent father, cremation 

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t. 

“Do you want to say anything before we…” the operator asked her.

“No,” Y/N answered quickly.

“Oh, my assistant forgot to give you this,” the operator gave her a shy smile as he handed her a small cardboard box.

She opened it to find all of her mother’s jewelry that had been on her body at the funeral.

“Thank you,” Y/N told him.

“Ready?” The operator asked.

He had been so kind throughout the whole process. It was obvious he was used to people breaking down and being extremely emotional. 

But Y/N had been stoic, almost concerningly so. 

Though he wasn’t one to judge. Everyone grieved differently.

With the pull of a handle, Y/N watched her mother’s body going into the chamber.

“It will be a few hours,” the operator told her.

He meant it will it will take a few hours for her mother’s body to burn to ash. Then they would hand her a tacky vase with her remains.

Y/N just nodded. “I’ll go for a walk.”

As soon as she was outside, Y/N called her mother’s executor.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I was just about to call you.”

“I’m at the crematory,” she told him. “I figured we should discuss the bills that still need to be paid for.”

“Yes, of course. As I mentioned to you before, your mother’s life insurance covers quite a lot of it…” his words died out.

“But it’s still not enough,” Y/N finished for him. “I’ll get the money.”

She wasn’t exactly rich, but she also wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck. But people never realized how much money it cost for loved ones to die. It was honestly ridiculous.

“You might want to consider taking out a loan,” he tried to suggest gently.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Another thing, Ms. Y/L/N. There was an envelope with a name on it. And your mother left instructions on delivering the envelope to them.”

She stopped her pacing. 

“What name is on the envelope?” Y/N asked.

There was a pause.

“Bruce Wayne.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed.

Of course she knew who Bruce Wayne was – everyone in Gotham did, as well as most of the country. He was a billionaire playboy, only making headlines when he was a mess. But every once in awhile his philanthropy would sneak in there. Y/N always assumed those were only to help recover his image and not because he was a good person.

“You still there?” The executor asked.

“Yeah. I’m just a bit confused. But please pass it along to him, if that’s what my mom wanted.”

“I can’t. The instructions specifically say for you to deliver the envelop to him in person.”

“In person?” Y/N groaned in annoyance as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Why did all of this have to be so god damn complicated?

“Yes. Her instructions are…oddly specific."

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll pick up everything from your office before the work day ends.”

——————

Y/N stared at the envelop that she’d tossed on her coffee table as she sipped a rather large glass of red wine.

She was wracking her brain trying to think of a time when her mom mentioned knowing Bruce Wayne. But Y/N would’ve remembered her mom saying his name – even in passing. It’s not a name that one can drop casually.

Y/N pulled up her phone and googled him. But she looked at his history. Yes, he was from Gotham, as was her mom, but so were 10 million other people.

But then Y/N’s scrolling paused when she realized they went to the same high school: Gotham Academy. Not only that, they graduated in the same year.

‘Were they friends?’ Y/N wondered.

But just classmates or friends still didn’t seem to warrant a handwritten letter to be delivered after one’s death.

Y/N didn’t open the envelope.

Her mother’s instructions specifically told her not to. And if she put in that much of an effort to get this done after her death, Y/N wasn’t going to ignore such a request.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Fuck,” Y/N sighed before throwing back the rest of her wine.

——————

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t grant you access to the building without your name being in the system by the company you’re visiting,” the building receptionist told her for the third time.

“I understand. But I called his office 30 fucking times and they refuse to put me through to him or get me an appointment,” Y/N practically growled.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I already called their office to say you were here and they didn’t recognize your name. I can’t let you through to the elevators.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the security guard who stood a few feet away. He was eyeing her now that there was clearly an argument going on.

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes. She had a good foot on him – even without her heels on. And he looked like he couldn’t run a 50 yard dash without passing out or vomiting. If he thought he was going to physically stop her, he had another thing coming.

“Listen, I am not some crazy fucking stalker. My mom knew Bruce Wayne and in her will she asked me to deliver this to him,” Y/N’s voice lowered and became disturbingly calm. “I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the security guard finally stepped forward.

“Oh, fuck off,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the rent-a-cop.

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” he continued.

“Call me ma’am one more fucking time…” Y/N growled.

But the security guard was taking a step to her.

“Excuse me. What seems to be the problem here?” A voice suddenly interrupted.

Everyone turned to see a young man – younger than Y/N – glaring at the security guard just as he was about to grab Y/N.

“M-Mr. Drake, we were just escorting this young woman from the premises,” the guard stuttered out.

Everyone at the building knew every member of the Wayne family. But unlike his siblings, Tim Drake was at the office almost every day. As one should be when they’re the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.

“For what reason?” Tim Drake asked.

“She insists on seeing Mr. Wayne. But she doesn’t have an appointment. For security reasons, I cannot let her through, obviously, unless the company she is visiting has put her into their system and the building’s system,” the receptionist explained nervously.

Y/N frowned as if she was bored of the whole thing.

Tim stepped forward. “May I ask what your business with Bruce Wayne is?”

Now that he was closer, Y/N noticed how exhausted he looked. He was handsome still, of course. But she wondered when he last got a good night’s sleep. He was shorter than her, probably standing at 5’5. And she still believed he was younger than her, which was wild seeing as he was already the CEO and couldn’t be older than 24.

Y/N sighed before she grabbed the envelope from her black leather satchel, and showed that Bruce Wayne’s name was handwritten on it.

“My mother wished me to personally deliver this to him.”

Tim tilted his head slightly. “Why isn’t she doing it?”

“Because she’s dead,” she shot back without emotion.

But Tim’s face became sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve assumed…”

“It’s fine,” Y/N quickly cut him off before he could continue.

She was so tired of being on the receiving end of people’s sympathy. It didn’t help. And the words stopped holding any meaning to her.

“But I’m sorry. Bruce isn’t in today. And he probably won’t be coming to the office for the rest of the week.”

“Oh,” was all she responded with.

Of course Bruce Wayne didn’t come to work. Why would he?

This was a stupid idea. And now she had made a scene because of it.

“But if you give me your information, I will personally let him know that you are trying to reach him.”

“Really?” Y/N asked in shock.

Tim smiled at her surprise. “Of course.”

“Here’s my card,” she quickly grabbed one from her wallet and then a pen. “All my info is on that.” She wrote something on the back. “And that’s my mom’s name.”

He took it from her and nodded. “What was your mother’s relationship with Bruce?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to figure it out. Apparently they graduated in the same high school class. But that’s all I was able to find.”

He nodded.

“Thank you…Mr. Drake. For your help. Really,” she urged.

“Please, it’s just Tim.” Then he glared at the receptionist and security guard. “For you it is, at least.”

“Thank you again,” Y/N felt like saying it 30 more times still wouldn’t be enough.

“You don’t have to thank me. Someone will be in touch. Have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” she corrected with a smile before she nodded and started backing away.

He smiled at her correction and gave a final nod.

——————

Y/N didn’t expect to hear from anyone for at least a week.

If the Wayne family was one thing, it was busy.

They probably had parties to go to, meetings to attend, private jets taking them around the world whenever they wished.

Why would they ever prioritize a meeting with her, a stranger?

So imagine her surprise when she received a call from an unrecognized number the same day she gave Tim Drake her card.

“Hello?” She answered.

Usually she would let any unknown number go to voicemail.

“Hello,” a British voice answered. “Am I speaking with Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she,” Y/N sat up straighter on her couch.

“This is Alfred Pennyworth. I work for Master Wayne and manage all his personal appointments. I was told by Master Tim that you wished to meet with him?”

“Uhhh. Yes. Yes, I do. Is that…is that possible?”

“Would you be able to stop by Wayne Manor on Friday afternoon?”

Y/N already knew she had nothing going on that would stop her from getting this done. But she still paused to pretend to think about it.

“Yes, Friday afternoon should be fine. Are you sure he doesn’t just want me to stop by Wayne Enterprises?”

It felt oddly intimate to stop by Wayne Manor. Wouldn’t they want to meet her in a more secure location like a corporate building with security that already hated her?

“He is quite certain. Should I send a car for you Ms. Y/L/N?”

A car?

Y/N felt even more out of her depth now.

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to meeting you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Thanks,” she answered before hanging up and realizing that probably wasn’t the proper response to such a polite goodbye.

——————

“I haven’t heard that name since high school,” Bruce had muttered as he stared at the business card for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Yes, and the end of your relationship did not end on the best of terms,” Alfred commented.

Y/M’s/N Y/L/N had been Bruce’s high school sweetheart.

An she had seen the last moments of Bruce’s normal life. 

Upon graduation, Bruce decided to leave Gotham and that’s how his second life was founded. The two of them broke up before the summer after graduation had even ended.

Well, “Breakup” was a strong word.

Bruce stopped answering her calls.

She was his first love and he continued to love her.

But once Bruce realized where his life was going and who he wanted to be, he knew he couldn’t drag her into it. She deserved better.

And Bruce was a coward about relationships then. Maybe he still was.

“I am certain you did a thorough background check on her already,” Alfred commented with a smirk.

Bruce took in a breath before listing off all of her accomplishments. “Y/F/N Y/L/N. Graduated number one in her class at Gotham Academy. She was the star of the track team, breaking the regional record for fastest time in 100m, 200m, and 400m races. Also captain of her soccer team. Attended NYU’s photography program before dropping out after a year. Now she’s a professional photography. Her work’s been featured in Vogue, New York Times, National Geographic…amongst others.”

“Rather an impressive woman,” Alfred said.

Bruce nodded.

“I should get the tea and coffee ready for her arrival.” And with that, Alfred left Bruce in the drawing room.

30 minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Bruce glanced down at his watch: she was right on time.

He heard Alfred saying his pleasantries before he heard the clicking of her heels as she rounded the corner to enter the room he was waiting in.

For being a famous photographer, she could’ve been a runway model with her height and the way she walked into the room, completely owning it. She wore four-inch heels, only adding to her natural tallness. And her bright, red coat only added to her presence.

For a split second, Bruce was convinced that he was looking at an Amazon. Diana immediately flashed into his mind for a split second. Perhaps that was what Y/M’s/N needed help with: to get her daughter to her real people. But how would she have known Bruce Wayne had such connections? Unless she knew Batman’s true identity…

As soon as Y/N spotted him in the room, he rose from his seat.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Bruce greeted.

He took a step forward and held out his hand.

“You guys really love the formalities.” She said it with a dark evenness, but it was clearly a joke. “Y/N is fine, Mr. Wayne,” she added as she shook his hand.

“In that case, it’s Bruce,” he countered with a soft smirk.

There was something so familiar about her. But Bruce knew they’d never met. 

“Thank you for seeing me. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time,” Y/N quickly got to it. She opened her purse to grab the envelope.

“My mom wanted you to have this. And she wanted to make sure I was the one to give it to you,” Y/N explained as she offered it to him.

Bruce took it carefully, but didn’t open it. “Yes, I heard about her passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said hurriedly, making it obvious to Bruce that she did not want nor need his condolences.

Bruce nodded slowly.

There was a pause.

“Do you know what it says?” He asked her lightly.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t supposed to read it.”

“I see.”

“I should really be going. I have a flight to catch later tonight.” Most people that visited Wayne Manor wished to stay there forever. Or their curiosity got the best of them and their eyes took in every little detail.

But Y/N looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. And she wanted to get out as soon as she possibly could.

“Thank you again for seeing me,” she rushed out.

Without waiting for his answer, Y/N turned and started walking out of the room.

But she only got a few steps before she stopped.

Bruce watched her shoulders tense and her body move as she was clearly taking in deep breath.

Slowly, Y/N turned around to face him.

“Were you friends?”

Bruce gave her a watery smile. “She was my girlfriend in high school.”

Y/N seemed annoyed by that answer. “She never mentioned you. Not once.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed at that and his eyes zoned out as if he was revising the past in his mind. “I’m not entirely surprised. Things didn’t really end well between us.”

She nodded slowly. “Goodbye, Mr. Wayne.”

And Y/N turned and strutted out of the room without looking back.

As soon as Bruce heard her cab drive away, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

He barely noticed that Dick had walked into the room. “May I ask…Who was the extremely attractive and tall woman that just walked out?”

But Bruce didn’t hear him as his eyes raced across the letter. His heart sped as he continued reading.

“Bruce?” Dick asked after being ignored. “Is she your next conquest or what?”

It wasn’t until Bruce was done reading the letter for the third time that he finally looked up and acknowledged Dick.

Alfred had also walked into the room, unbeknownst to Bruce.

“You OK?” Dick asked, now concerned with how silent Bruce had become.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred also urged.

“That was…my daughter,” Bruce finally muttered.

Dick blinked before his eyes grew wide in shock.

Alfred seemed less surprised, almost as if he had already put that together.

“Excuse me,” Bruce told them and exited the room.

———

Dick and Alfred must’ve warned the rest of the family not to bother Bruce in the cave. Usually he would’ve been disturbed by now.

Bruce had been at the computer for hours.

Alfred was the first person to come down, carrying a tray with dinner and tea.

The butler wasn’t surprised to find Y/N’s face all over the screens.

If Bruce had left any available information hidden before inviting Y/N to the manor, it was all out there now. Bruce knew everything about Y/F/N Y/L/N that was public knowledge – probably even some things that were not.

“You know, you did not seem all that surprised,” Bruce said to Alfred as he put the tray of food down next to him.

“Seemed rather obvious, didn’t it?”

Bruce quickly turned to look at him. “It did?”

Alfred smirked. “Her eyes,” was all he said.

“The color?”

Alfred shook his head. “As soon as she walked into the manor, they were reading me.” He tilted his head in Bruce’s direction. “Observation. Perception. Attention to detail...That is all you, Master Wayne.”

“The way she held herself,” Alfred continued, "Shoulders held back, head high, walking with purpose. No hesitation.”

“Also me?” Bruce asked.

Alfred simply nodded.  

“I don’t think she liked me very much,” Bruce sighed.

He didn’t know how he felt about that yet.

“A lot of people think you don’t like them when you first meet them,” Alfred countered. “Because I don’t trust them yet.”

Alfred raised his brows and silently ask him, ‘Don’t you see my point?’

Bruce rubbed his face and reached for the tea on the tray, ignoring all the food.

“I don’t know why you’re so entertained by this, Alfred.”

“Yes, I was entertained. I just saw a younger, female version of you, Master Wayne.”

“I abandoned her,” Bruce shot.

“You didn’t know she existed,” Alfred corrected.

“And why do you think that is?”

Alfred’s face dropped a little bit when he noticed the envelope discarded on the far end of Bruce’s desktop.

He looked down at the ground as he asked, “Might I ask what the letter said?”

Bruce glared at the letter as if touching it would burn him.

But after a moment, he grabbed it and quickly handed it to Alfred.

Bruce,

If this letter has finally reached you, it is because I have passed.

I must admit that I wrote this letter mostly in the event that I leave my daughter before she is an adult. But once Y/N turned 18, I decided to still pass this along to you.

There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will get to the point.

The young woman who delivered this letter to you is your daughter, Bruce.

Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.

When I found out I was pregnant with her, I was only 18. We had just graduated high school. You had started traveling. You called less and less. And you grew more distant – physically and emotionally. Eventually, you stopped answering my calls altogether. I left you a voicemail, only saying that I so desperately needed to talk to you, that I needed you.

But you never called me back.

With no words at all, you made it very clear that you no longer wanted anything to do with me.

But there I was, a teenager who was pregnant with our child.

I would be lying if I said I never considered terminating my pregnancy. I was scared and you broke my heart. All I wanted to do was erase you from my life.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Once I decided what my future was going to be, I also decided that I did not want you to have any part in it.

I knew even if you pretended to play the doting father and the committed partner, you would grow tired of us eventually. You would resent me and our child for bringing you down. And you would brush us aside for yourself.

I realized I would rather Y/N have no father at all than one who would only disappoint her over and over again.

To this day, I truly believe I did the right thing for all three of us.

There are not enough words to explain the complicated woman that Y/N grew up to be. But I will try my best. I think I owe you that at least. 

Or maybe you have no interest.

I don’t know how she became so much like you, even when I never so much as showed her a picture of you or uttered your name.

She enjoys being alone – almost to her own detriment. I constantly catch her repressing her feelings, always staying strong for everyone else. It reminds me of you. She’s assertive and confident, never letting anything stand in the way of what she wants. Sometimes I don’t think she’s scared of anything. It worries me, just like it worried me when I thought the same of you.

I truly don’t know what you will do with this information.

But…if you have any desire to form some sort of relationship with her, then you should know this: she will not make it easy for you. She will push you away. And she might even hate you. I raised her to never need a man in her life, and she’ll make sure you know that.

I don’t expect anything from you. I never did.

But I would just like to know there might be someone who will be there for her should she need them.

Goodbye, Bruce.

Alfred slowly handed the letter back to Bruce when he was finished.

“I pushed her away because I knew what I was about to become,” Bruce explained darkly. “And I didn’t want her anywhere near it. She would’ve been in danger.”

“Y/N, as well,” Alfred added.

“But had I known…if I just listened to her–”

“Master Wayne, I thought we had agreed to never linger on the ‘what ifs.’”

That sure silenced Bruce.

“Now, what do you plan on doing, Master Wayne?”

———

Y/N frowned when her phone started vibrating and she recognized the name of her mom’s executor on her phone screen.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you?”

“Fine. How are you?” She was quick, wanting to get this over with. Surely, he had bad news. Another medical bill came in or some other expense that slipped by them.

“Good, good. Just curious…have you placed any payments to our various claims?”

“Uhhh…no. But I’m working on it.”

Y/N hadn’t expected to get a call nagging about paying bills.

“No, no, no. You misunderstand. They’ve all been paid,” the executor explained.

Y/N sat up straighter in her chair. “What? That’s not possible.”

“An anonymous donor. They somehow got record of all your outstanding payments and covered all of them.”

Y/N was stunned to silence.

“Ms. Y/L/N…this is a good thing.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Right. Yes, of course. I just…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank this guardian angel of yours.”

---------------------

Part 2

Let me know what you think!!!

[quirklessidiot]

Title: pretty eyes [short story] Pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn!reader [soulmate au; takes place eight years before the yuuji and sukuna fusion] Genre: josei, romance, fluff, comedy, and your normal tragic angst!

Summary: in which the right eye is mine and the left eye is yours and when we meet for the first time, you see your own eyes staring back at you. Warnings: language, blood, minor manga spoilers, mild ooc gojo and death

Notes:  can we all just sit down admire satoru? Like the eyes man, the attitude omg... Ah im so sorry in advance  if hes ooc here sksksk it is my first time to write about any jjk characters and I havent fully grasped them yet despite reading the manga anyways i wont be online next week and tomorrow so i decided to publish this ahead of time. ily all and again thank you for the love and support, it does mean a lot *bows down* see you all again when i’ve got time? jskskss i fucking hate college and online classes, satoru save me please soulmate au’s [not read in any particular order nor are they connected, they just share the same trope]  Pretty eyes [gojo vers.] ||  lasting blues [toji vers]

tragic soulmate au series || taglist 

“Pretty.” were the very first words you uttered in complete awe as you saw yourself in the mirror and no, this wasn’t directed to your physical appearance. It was directed to your left eye, the eye of your soulmate.

Contrasting to your normal boring color on the right, your soulmate’s eyes were ethereal and unreal. How could someone have such pretty eyes? It was completely surreal at that point that you refused to believe that someone with these eyes were actually human.

You placed one hand and gently caressed the left side of your face where the pretty eye rested, “You must be an angel.” you muttered, “Only angels have pretty eyes.”

Thus      like every child     you gave your soulmate a nickname, ‘pretty angel’  and every night before you slept, you’d wonder out loud how your pretty angel was doing, if they were nearby, or anything like that. You wonder what type of food they like, do they like to leave the window open for a cool wind or do they like their chocolate hot or iced.

Yet as you grew older, the pretty angel faded out into your thoughts. The pretty idea of soulmates and love disappeared like the story books you read as a child. The pretty blue eyes on your left is forgotten as life takes a toll on you.

They say death was inevitable, when your mother died in middle school, you watch as your father’s left eye turn to your mother’s color. You watched as he clenched her hand, like it was some last resort of plea. You watched him cry as he passed by the mirrors and you wondered, would it hurt like that too?

It baffles you how beautiful and cruel the soulmate system was.

How every time your father would stare at his own reflection, his left eye would be nothing but a reminder of your dead mother.

You let out a second meek cough in the quiet bookstore that night, the sounds of the car passing by were nothing but quiet noise to you as you immerse yourself in the literature book you were reading, your students would surely love this one.You let out another cough as you turn around to find a small space to read since standing for too long made you tired too quickly. 

You’re too enchanted by the words of the author that you don’t even notice the rather tall man in front of you.

You look up, ready to give a quiet apology but stop short when you notice how ethereal the stranger looked. Albeit he wore a pair of weird Lennon shades at this time of night, he reminded you very much of an angel with his snow white hair.

You don’t even notice how your left eye is returning back to it’s normal color, the stranger does though and it surely was odd to see his eyes on a stranger.

“Well,” the stranger has a shit-eating grin decorating his handsome features, he definitely looked like trouble for sure, “This is unexpected.”

He lowers his shades and your eyes immediately widen as you suddenly cup the left side of your face, you’d recognize those unique eyes anywhere, after all, you had those on your left eye since you were born, “Y-You.” you muttered, the shock momentarily eating you up.

“Yeah, me.” He grins, loving the sudden attention, “Wow, I was expecting something like fireworks or flowers to appear.” He suddenly teased, bending down to your level.

Now that you notice it, he was very, very tall.

“I…” You blink, trying to gain your composure, “Wow…”

“Did I pass your expectations?” it’s been a few minutes since you started talking and all he has been doing is teasing you. 

“You do look like an angel.” You complimented and his eyes widened at the rather out-of-place compliment, “Your eyes are very pretty, thanks for letting me borrow them for twenty-two years.”

Gojo Satoru thought he had the upper-hand, after all, you looked quite meek but when you said those compliments, he was sure that you were going to be the teasing one in this whole-soulmate thing.

So he tries to one up you.

“I’m Satoru Gojo but you can call me tonight.” He grinned, trying to tease you once again, the corny pick up line sounds suave but your blank expression says otherwise.

“I’m Y/N L/N and  think I should call you in the morning, it is quite late right now and I still have classes at eight am.” You mumbled, looking down at your watch, “How about you just walk me home, then?”

“Okay.” Satoru immediately raises his hands, signaling that he was giving up, “First off, you should be more hyper aware that I may be a serial killer.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you a serial killer?” you repeat, “That would be awfully disappointing if my soulmate was one since I’d immediately give you up on the police. I’m not interested in being in a Bonnie and Clyde type of thing and I think it’s too early for me to die.”

“You’re very upfront about these sorts of things.”

“Well, you’re very teasing for someone who just met their soulmate a few minutes ago.” you shrug, “So, are you going to walk me home or not?”

“Ah, bossy too. I love the attitude already.”

“We’re spending our whole lives together. You might as well get used to it.”

You’d think the idea of soulmates would scare you after the firsthand experience with your parents but curiosity always got the best of you and the white-haired man proved that maybe it would be different this time.

Throughout the few months you’ve spent with him, You’ve noticed that Gojo Satoru and you may be alike in some ways but in most ways, he was different. 

First, he was enigmatic. You’ve known the man for a couple of months now and you’ve been going out on dates but you don’t know much about him except that like you, he’s a teacher at a good school and he tends to be conceited when he talks about his personal skills as a teacher.

“...What are you doing?” Satoru asked, peeking from behind your shoulder as you type in the grades of your student for your class.

“I’m grading my students.” You muttered, it was after dinner at your place and he was lazing around your place, the sound of faint jazz music could be heard throughout your small space and the wafting smell of freshly baked brownies filled the room, “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something since you're a teacher?”

Satoru quirks a brow as if you had said something odd then it seemed like realization had dawn upon him at that moment.

“Ah, I’m not doing much since my students are on break.”

“Didn’t you say that last time?”

Silence filled the room and Satoru breaks it off with his very famous ‘heh’ that made you inwardly roll your eyes and chunk the pillow that you’ve been hugging towards his direction, “Stop slacking off, you’re a teacher.” You scold him mildly, followed by a small cough.

“Ah, Y/N-chan. You’re so mean to me,” He frowned, handing you the mug filled with water, “...No fair.”

“You're a teacher and you’re slacking off.” You deadpanned, ignoring his sly ways of trying to get you in his arms, “How is that even fair?”

“My students can handle themselves so well that I don’t need to babysit them.” He hmphed,  arms crossed and head held up high in a rather arrogant manner. You could only only scoff back a reply at his rather haughty attitude but you’ve gotten used to it to the point where you just roll your eyes.

“You’re a very bad teacher, Satoru.” 

“Hey, I am considered one of the best and it’s an honor-”

You clicked your tongue and just pinched his cheek in reply to get him to stop drawling on about his achievements. You wondered if you dated a man child or something.

Second, despite his teasing nature and good looks, he’s a rather shy bean and has some insecurities about it too, maybe it was because there were moments where you couldn’t really understand your soulmate and his puzzling life. He didn’t tell and you didn’t want to pry because you technically both had your whole life to get around that subject.

Luckily, you seem to have found a remedy for moments like that.

“Satoru…” You called out to your soulmate who was staring at the nutrition content of the wafers on his hand, “Satoru!” 

“Oh, sorry. What were you talking about?” he finally snapped out of his daze and turned to you who was standing there, hand on your hip. The crispy wafers on his hand are long forgotten. 

Your soulmate is good looking, alright. If anyone were to pass by him they wouldn’t see the minor zilch of worry in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” You ask, walking closer to him, completely serious.

“...You aren’t going to leave me, right?” 

You raise a brow at the sudden question, wasn’t he too young to have some mid-life crisis? Was this because of the soulmate movie you watched late last night about the soulmate leaving their other half to rebel against the system and because of his partner’s family?

“Why would I leave you?”

He blinks once, then twice, the only sound that could be heard was the familiar music playing throughout the grocery store, it was as if no one was there during the mid-day. Satoru proceeds to look away, “I don’t know. What if you realize that you don’t like me as your soulmate and you followed what the dude did in the movie?” he started to mumble, mouth pressed on a straight line.

“Ah, the whole rich in-laws.” you blinked, “Don’t tell me you’re a son of some huge clan in japan that’s loaded and I’m going to be a disgrace to your family name or something?”

It came out as a joke at first, it really did and you were going to laugh but when you notice the straight face he has on, you realize it was anything but a joke.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, Oh.” 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking that question then?”

“What?” He almost half-yelled, eyes wide behind his usual shades that he seemed to wear a lot, “That doesn’t make sense!”

“Neither does your question, Satoru.” You frowned, massaging your temples, “I should be the one asking you that, are you going to leave me?”

“Of course not.” He sputters out.

“Then there goes my answer too.” You replied, huffing out as you grab the sweet wafers on his hand to put into the cart, “You’re very weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“No, you are.”

“You seriously asked me if I’d leave you because of your rich family in the middle of the day.” You deadpanned, inching closer to him to the point where your lips are brushing against his.

“This is unfair.” He huffed, suddenly turning red, “You’re attacking me in broad daylight.”

“Oh dear.” Your beguiling eyes, enjoying his rather embarrassed state, “This isn’t attacking, Satoru.”

Then you closed the distance between you two, his eyes seemed to widen behind his shades at your forward approach, clearly you guys never did PDA. You took this as an opportunity to lick his lower lip so you could slip your tongue in and as he starts getting into it and placing his hand to cup your ass, you pull away with a big smile on your lips, “That’s attacking.” you grinned.

Satoru seemed to have regained his senses quickly after that rather heated public make-out session, he placed his hand on top of his mouth and feigned embarrassment, “My, My, I didn’t think you’d enjoy those types of things in public.” he was back to his normal teasing self.

Well, that seemed to have worked very well.

“Mhm,” 

Yet unknown to you those thoughts still lingered in his head, it wasn’t just his family that he was worried about, it was also regarding his job as a jujutsu sorcerer       something he has yet to mention, he’s not even sure if you’d believe him       it’s a normal occurrence for people like him to die in this occupation and he’s scared that one day, you’ll see your left eye turning back to his eye color with no valid explanation.

Not only that but the amount of people who’d go after you to get to him, he clenched on the shopping cart tightly

“I’m tired.” You cut his thoughts short and Satoru turns to you, unlike him, you weren’t physically active so you tire easily, even joking around that you were a granny in a child’s body, “Can we sit down after this and get some gyudon?”

“Sure Y/N.” he grins, giving you a one-arm hug and kissing your temple.

Third, he’s terrible with kids, period, no questions asked. 

Your eyes narrowed to slits as he brought in one of his students named Megumi, the boy is quiet and compared to your giant and teasing soulmate, he’s serious. In fact he was more serious than the tiny pinky of the white-haired man.

“...Are you kidnapping a third grader?”

“He’s one of my students.”

“You don’t even know the first thing of looking after kids.” You pointed out, “And didn’t you mention that you teach high school students?”

“Well,” he drawled on, “It’s kind of a long story but he’s technically a genius.”

You let out a stifling sigh, “You’re impossible.” you mutter, bending down to the small boy’s level, “Would you like something to eat in compensation for him annoying you?”

The boy nods mutely.

“I wasn’t annoying him!” He corrects.

“He looks very annoyed standing next to you.”

“That’s literally what he looks like!”

You roll your eyes in reply and turn to the young boy, handing him a pastry that you had brought earlier. You  watched Megumi eat his pastry in front of the television that played some child-friendly show as you let out a soft cough and pour yourself some water

“Are you alright?” Satoru asks, resting his head on your shoulders.

“Yeah,” You replied, “Why’d you ask?”

“You’re looking quite pale these days.”

“Maybe it’s the allergy season, already.”  you nonchalantly replied, taking another gulp of water, “You’re terrible with kids, by the way.”

“That’s why I’m a high school teacher, Y/N.”

This connects you to your fourth observation, he’s nonchalant and easy going but he harbors a rather deep worry for you to the point where you wonder if he was really your soulmate or your mother incarnate. Three years into the whole soulmate thing with him, you still couldn’t help but think that he’s doting nature was quite adorable.

You feel like you’re coming down with a cold these days, your head has been throbbing and your cough is worsening. Satoru’s eyes are filled with nothing but worry as he handed you some medication. Your soulmate was now a mother hen and if it were different circumstances, you’d laugh it off.

“We should go to the doctor.” He nagged you once again.

“I’m literally going to sleep it off.” You hoarsely replied, “I’ll be fine, Satoru.”

“You literally sound like you smoked a pack with your voice, are you sure?”

“I am.” You glared, “Don’t sleep-”

Before you could even finish what you were saying, he flops right next to you in the bed, “-I literally told you to not sleep next to me.” you scolded him.

“A mere cold won’t phase me.”

“I swear to god, Gojo Satoru. I’ll kick you out.” He ignores your ministrations and snuggles his head on your neck, his warm breath tickling it, “You’re impossible.”

“You love me.”

“Sadly.”

“Hey.”

“I’m kidding.” you let out a quiet chuckle, looking down at your soulmate and running your hands through his white hair, “I love you very much, you idiot.”

“Hard same.”

“Never mind, I take it back.” you giggle.

And after a rather short playful banter between you two, you find yourself sleeping and snuggling on his long limbs. You think all is well, you really do. That was until you wake up later at three am in the morning with a loud coughing fit. Satoru immediately sits upright and opens your nightlight but what he sees next, scares him more than the curses he has ever encountered.

Your sheets are now stained in blood from the coughing fit that had just happened and you're completely taken aback too, completely breathless.

“Y-Y/N…” He gulps down, quickly taking the sheets away from you, “Let’s go to the hospital now, please?”

“...L/N-san, have you been getting coughing fits before this?” the doctor asks, looking up from your chart. Satoru watches you shake your head as you clench the paws of his jacket, the doctor takes off his glasses, “How about coughs that don’t seem to go away? Getting tired too easily?”

Satoru doesn’t like where this was going, he doesn’t like where this was going at all.

“Um, just some dry coughs and I’ve always been an inactive person.” You quietly replied, contrasting to your usual bright and teasing demeanor, you looked too tired this morning and Satoru just hopes it’s because he dragged you out of bed at four am to get yourself checked asap.

“Y/N-san, has any of your family members been diagnosed with lung cancer?”

The whole room is silent and you could almost hear a pin drop, Satoru feels his knuckles suddenly turn white, “I recalled my okaasan died because of that.” You replied silently and the doctor nods feverishly.

“...Y/N-san...It pains me to say this but the reason you’ve been experiencing this is because of the tumors located in your lungs.” Satoru feels his heart drop when he hears those words, “We have to do further tests to confirm-”

“Do it.” Satoru cuts the old doctor off, his hands are visibly shaking already, he hopes that this was just a misdiagnosis, that this doctor was just a bad one or better yet whatever excuse his mind could make up at that moment, “Do all the tests needed for Y/N, please.”

Fifth, he’s very supportive towards you and your impulsive decisions. If he could join you in it, he would but you usually decide against it.

It’s another quiet night for you as you sit across from your soulmate at the dinner table. You’ve grown awfully thin and your hair was starting to fall off due to the chemoradiation, this day marked the third month since you found out that you have lung cancer just like your mother. Surgery was apparently too risky so the safest option right now was this treatment. 

You don’t deny the anxiety eating you up every day, specifically the fear of death, you’re even more worried for Satoru since not only had he been paying for your treatment but he had opt to take care of you, saying that his job would be fine without him since you were going to get better soon anyways.

“Would you still love me if I shaved my hair?” You asked, your voice still quite hoarse.

“You kidding me? I’d still love you even if you turned into a roach.”

You immediately crinkle your nose in disgust, “That’s disgusting.”

“Honest reply.”

Truthfully, the man had been your rock these past three months. You knew how hard it was for him to be happy around you, how he had put on a brave front and remained positive saying that this was just going to be a rough couple of months and you’d be back in no time despite the bleak outlook.

It kept you sane amongst the tragedy.

“I wanna shave my hair.”

“Like right now?”

You nod, “Can we use your electric razor?”

“You want me.” he points to himself, “To cut your hair?”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.” You grinned.

And that’s how you ended up in your bathroom after dinner, Satoru’s shades on the side and his concentration directly on your scalp. You had literally told him that he just needed to do it the same way as he shaved his beard but he was still scared. Apparently, he had never shaved anyone’s hair before.

“...Okay, Y/N. Here goes…” He proclaimed, switching the razor on. As bits and pieces of your hair fall to the ground, you feel your cheeks getting wet and your shoulders tense, Satoru is quick to notice the switch of emotion and immediately turns the razor off before bending down in front of you, “Woah, woah… Y/N….”

“I-I…” Your lips are quivering as the tears fall faster when you see his pretty eyes staring back at yours, you try to let out a laugh but instead it comes out as a choke sob, “Sorry, this is stupid. I’m literally crying over fucking hair.”

“No, of course not…” He replies, enveloping you in a hug, “Of course not.”

Satoru feels you start to shake in his arms and he knows he should keep his emotions in check, he’s a sorcerer for crying out loud but seeing you break down for the first time in three months had him shaking too, you didn’t deserve all this, fuck, you didn’t deserve any of this at all!

“Would you like me to shave my hair so you’d feel a bit better?” he asks. After recovering from your breakdown, you had asked him to continue shaving your hair because you might as well be done with it.

“Please don’t.” You reply, wiping your tears away, “We’d look like eggs.”

“Cute eggs, you mean.” He corrects, teasing you and trying to cheer you up, this was all he could do and he hates it. 

He really hates it.

What good was the title of being the strongest when he couldn’t save you from all of this?

Lastly, if you hadn’t highlighted it enough. He has pretty eyes, contrasting to your dull and boring ones, you always loved how different his eyes are. Sometimes you wondered why he dared to hide them behind his crappy and overused Lennon shades.

“Can I see them?” 

Your room is dimly lit as Satoru sleeps next to you on the hospital bed, you were growing weaker and frailer by the day and you could see the toll it took on your soulmate. You were heavily reminded of your father who was sitting right next to your mother on her deathbed.

“See what?” He yawned.

“Your eyes.”

“You’re awfully in love with them, huh?” 

“I’ve always been in love with them from the moment I saw it in the mirror.”

Silence envelopes the room with your statement and as requested, he takes the shades off and now you’re greeted by the most beautiful blue eyes that you love to look at in the reflection since you were a child, “Pretty.” You muttered, raising your frail hands slowly to cup his face, “Pretty eyes.”

Satoru takes in a deep breath as he places his hand on top of yours, the silence is heavy. You both know what’s about to come in the next few days, you’re lucky if you even last a night. Yet he doesn’t want to talk about it, he shuts the topic off quickly when you try to even raise it.

“Yeah.” he mumbles, staring at you, “Pretty.”

You let out a quiet laugh, “I doubt it, I’m anything but pretty now.” your voice hoarse, making him lightly squeeze your hands, “Will you be bringing Megumi tomorrow?”

“Yeah, the brat said he saved enough money to get you your favorite pastry.”

“That’s good.” you blinked, “I’m tired.”

Satoru feels his shoulder tense at your words, they were so plain yet at the same time so heavy, “Should I call the doctor?” he asks. You shake your head and just snuggle on his chest.

“No,” You mumbled, inhaling his scent and basking on his presence, “I want your warmth next to me.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“You know, you’ve always had prettier eyes.”

Yet you don’t reply and he feels your grip on his sweater lessen, he doesn’t even need to see his reflection to know that his left eye has returned back to your (e/c) ones.

taglist [if crossed out, it means you aren’t available for tags!]

@airybnb​ ;  @hcn421​ ;  @shinhiromi​

[ibitsunahaato]

Nimbus FUMBLE / Part 1

Tori: Ugh~ Sigh~ I can’t take this anymore… I’m gonna die…

I’m bored to death!!!

Yuzuru isn’t back from work yet. And I’m already done watching all the dramas and movies I had saved up…

And since there was nothing else to do, I watched every single one of the videos trending on this site. But this is it—I’m seriously bored by now~

I was super busy with work during the year-end and couldn’t catch a moment of break.

And then everyday, I’d wish for a day I could just relax, right? Yeah, I did but—

Now that you’re telling me that I actually don’t have to do anything, I’m bored out of my mind~!

But still, you know. It’s finally my day off after all, and simply idling around like this is…

I keep feeling like I’m wasting my time and I can’t stay still… As if my efforts are going to waste?

…Hm~

Yeah. I really can’t waste a holiday in this sloppy way! Lemme go out and try finding someone I can hang out with.

Tori: Tsk~ The theatre room is also empty…

My guess told me that someone’s here for sure and yet~!

Noone’s in the courtyard and bookroom either. So is everyone really busy with work at this time…

And if someone is around, they’re much likelier to be in the common room? Anyways, lemme go take a look.

Aira: …

Tori: (Ah! Isn’t that Shiratori sitting on that sofa over there?!)

(Yay ♪ I was searching around for anyone, but I found someone I’m close with—I’m so lucky!)

(Hm~ What’s he doing though? I can only see his back so I can’t really tell, but he’s not in the middle of work or something, right? Let me try calling out to him…♪)

Hey, Shiratori~ What’re you doing? Why don’t you hang out with—

Aira: …Waah… Sob…

Tori: HUH?! H-Hey! Shiratori, are you crying?! Did someone bully you?!

Aira: …Agh… Huh? Himemiya-senpai…?

Tori: —So… Basically, you were crying because you were moved to tears by a manga?!

Aira: That’s right.

Tori: What’s this~? You were crying so much that I got worried thinking about what might’ve happened~ Well, I’m glad it wasn’t because you were bullied by someone or something.

Aira: Ehehe. Sorry for making you worry.

Tori: And the manga you were reading—It’s this one? It’s the type to actually move you to tears?

Aira: ! Yeah, it is! It’s like a 4-koma manga that was first posted on socmed.

But the characters were so cute and a sequel was anticipated, so it kept growing.

As of now, the manga seems to have had an overnight success! My fans recommended that I read this one.

I asked for interesting manga suggestions online and lots of fans replied to me—

Ah! Wait, I gotta…! I need to post my reactions online while the feels are still strong!

Um…”I read the manga everyone’s talking about! I can’t say a lot cause I’ll end up spoiling it.”

“It was so tragic and painful that my chest hurt SO much! By the time I was done, I was a total mess covered in tears and snot. The classmate kid had me COMPLETELY hooked. Love~y ♪”

“Classmate for the win![1] Thanks for the recc!” —And, sent ☆

Tori: F-For the win…? Not “will win”? Sounds like a usage I’ve never heard.

Aira: Ah, “for the win” is like… It’s a popular thing to say right now? …It means something like “This is #1 and the best. Nothing can beat this.”

Like “My fave for the win!” is something often used.

Tori: Hm. Eichi-sama for the win! …Like that?

Aira: Yes, perfect ♪ That’s exactly how you use it, Himemiya-senpai.

Ah, but don’t say that in front of Fushimi-senpai, okay? If he finds out that I taught you weird language usages, I might get scolded~...

Tori: Huh~? I mean, there’s no way I’m gonna…No, wait, I might?

Aira: HUH?! I don’t like that?! Moreover, I don’t want Fushimi-senpai to hate me. Himemiya-senpai, please forget everything I just taught you~!

Tori: I was just messing with you. I mean, Yuzuru isn’t gonna get mad at something like this.

Aira: Agh… Are you sure? Then, I guess it’s fine…

Tori: Besides, Shiratori is super thorough, huh? You post things like detailed manga reactions on social media like this?

Aira: Even Himemiya-senpai shares lots of stuff, right? I always go through all of them ♪

Tori: Well, I don’t go as far as sharing manga reactions though.

…Ah, this is incredible. You’re getting tons of likes.

Aira: But even you get tons of likes, Himemiya-senpai. And I think you get likes at a much more incredible pace.

Tori: Hm~ You don’t really get it when it’s about yourself. But when you see someone else getting the likes, it feels really incredible, huh.

Aira: Well, even I get that feeling of others seeming much greater than yourself.

Ah, but now it’s like…

Tori: Hm? Did something happen?

Aira: It’s nothing at all, and I know that I shouldn’t be so hung up on it. There’s something I’m worried—No, it’s not that big of a deal…

Um, there’s something I’m a little pressed[2] about?

Tori: P-Pressed about?

Ugh~! Speak using words even I can understand~?!

Writer: Maiko Nishioka

story masterlist ✦ next →

Proofing: Maximum Cheese

Aira uses a Japanese internet slang term "しか勝ったん" here, which is often used to talk about your faves being the best, despite grammatically not making such sense.

Aira uses another Japanese internet slang "モニョる" here, which actually means to feel uneasy and troubled by something that you can't properly put into words. Slightly different nuance from "pressed" but it's a close enough English internet slang that worked.

[alberivh]

The gravestone of the wilderness — (scraps)

diluc x gn!reader — fluff, angst, comfort/hurt, death, implied werner syndrome, memory loss.

the second stage of diluc’s life, death and you.

a/n : a very very messy writing which were written by me for 2 days…? please listen to je te laisserai des mots while reading this, it would improve your imagination more <3

oh to be a normal couple. Lying in your frail shoulder, diluc exhales his heavy breathing. Trading the air with a brain of oxygen and beauty of life, he let your hands wrapped to his arm. Soothed his messy-red-hair and hearing the whisper of the freedom. Near the lakes of the winery, stand your figure and diluc seeing the sunset in mesmerized glances. It was a peaceful evening, even the birds seems too peaceful that it hurts your soul. The world isn’t fine, how come everything became so peaceful today?

“diluc, quick question..” , you called out his name. Stealing the sunset gaze from diluc’s eyes. His breathing is heavy, his heartbeat is unexpectedly warm. Yet you found his presence a little bit too cold..and too fragile.

“and..what is it?”

“who’ll die first, me or you?” , the question is simple. Like a sword to a warriors body, straightforward and cut short. You pay no attention to diluc’s tighten grip, avoiding his eye contact is the way you make his answer straight and honest. After all, you only want to hear his intentions, why did he still seek you even after your condition worsened? He could had the chance to escape from your affection 3 months ago but why did he stay? Did he pitied the unknown for not being the best of his life?

“you” cold and strong. His whole sight focused on your eyes. Anxiety fills it, tears could even force itself to leave your eyes if diluc told you how your eyes show everything. He seen through you and for so many time, he predicted your words. I don’t have any days left diluc.., is your favorite line. The one he thought to be a bullshit.

“just as i expected”

“but you do know i’m not your doctor right?”

“i trust my lovers instinct better than the doctors, they’re a bunch of creeps anyways” , the sunset falls to the edge of the winery before you could finish your reply. the infuse, the breathing machines and the ventilators were all beside you, accompanying you these past weeks. it was bothersome to bring them all together, but thanks to diluc, you could felt as if you were alive. and with no essentials-help you are fine.

diluc saw your anxiety trembles to sobs. the sunset was over and thus—began the starry moonlight which bright to the breezing sky of monstadt.

“thank you..diluc…” , you carefully clinge to his arm. Hugging it tightly without letting your infuse disturbed the warm of his body. your fingers gone numb but his warmth, it radiates so much energy and comfort to be alive. tears fall to his jacket, the moonlight was yet to be found and here you are pleading your lover to stay. Even if you’re both better dying off alone.

“dying off young is pretty tragic don’t you think? Like us..”, whispering your thoughts under the darkened sky and to diluc who was staring empty at your eyes. It was quite and clear to be hear in diluc’s ear but maybe he prefers to drown himself to your frail shoulder, so he could escape from the reality you were going out from his lines.

“y’know diluc, if i were alive till the 32 years of your life, i’ll be happy to laid on our deathbed together..” , a not so sappy thought to be precise. But diluc tries to understand from what are you implying to say, he doesn’t want to make himself fooled by the guilt of his past.

“and what makes you say that?”

“diluc we all know that i’m dying, i couldn’t always stay like this can i?” “I just want to be free that’s all..but diluc…i don’t wish for someone to forget about me…i want them to know i’m used to be alive and well, i want them to know i’m in love.” — i want them to know i’m in love with you diluc, i don’t want to leave you behind. I don’t want someone to abandoned me behind. I love you diluc. How many times have i told you that? I lost count.

minutes feels like seconds, under the starry night you felt nothing but warm. The warm of his heart and his radiance, although it seems like a facade to hide from your sharp-vision. He is beautiful. but with diluc’s lips under your dry mouth, You could feel more the presence of his fading-figure. Wandering through his palm, the space of his cold fingers and his salty tears. He was crying out of madness. He was frustrated that he couldn’t been able to save you from your draining thoughts.

the sharp needles inside your infuse feels numb. The breathing tube wasn’t as heavy as before. Diluc lips is the only thing you could feel. Under the moonlight, he drops his devotion to his knees. Hands wrapped to your delicate-fragile self. Under the days he left you behind, he apologize. As Now he is humming your lips with hopeless wishes. His kisses are soft, gentle as the wind. Pyro seems so warm to your cryo vision. Unknown for love and ambition to be bear. so this is how falling in love feels like?

the sunrise have awoken, another day has finally begun. Sitting at the balcony with his brother, reading letters and wishes from his inner family circle. Eyebags have grown to diluc’s glance, even his wrinkles start to form onto his charming face. His hair start to fall out to thin airs, leaving half of the once burning red to a pale-silver colored. Enjoying his time with the breeze of the sun, diluc realizes kaeya standing figure. he must be going somewhere..

“Kaeya where are you going?” , voice gone frail. His voice aren’t as strong as before. Even his flatter organs are better than the rusty voice kaeya heard.

“to visit someone, it’s their birthday afterall..want to join in, good-master di—“

“shut up don’t you say that name again” , crossing the words. He exhales his breath. Giving himself an opportune moment to breath the fresh morning air. He flinch to the song of the birds, watching them fly ti the air while the letters flew to the side of the tables. it was a peaceful day for diluc to rest, but nonetheless..he always forgot them. Them who aren’t here anymore. father..and..who are they again?

“Alright big brother diluc ragnvindr..just sit on your wheelchair and prepare your stuff, we’re going to windrise right now.”

“It’s not vennessa’s birthday kaeya, why’d you want to take me to windrise? Are y—“ cutting diluc’s voice, kaeya managed to give him the usual smug face on his sight. Making diluc seems more uncomfortable by his plan.

“Yeah yeah..just stick your butt on the wheelchair already mister, we’re going now woohoo!” , whistling to excitement diluc found his brother action to be quite..suspicious. The road was smooth, maybe because the land of winery belongs to diluc’s and his bloodlines, no? Windrise wasn’t that far from the winery, maybe it is far for someone like diluc to explore such an area in the first place.

Windrise, the inner nation of freedom. The location of free will and vennessa legacy. But why does it feel so..cliché for diluc to remember? He doesn’t remember anything about windrise. He doesn’t remember anything about dying, he doesn’t even remembered the gravestone in front of him now. The air was fresh. The leaves and flowers which grow from the small-location of the gravestone was unexpectedly beautiful. The name which were craved in it was unreadable, maybe it was..once. But never again it would be readable to diluc’s eye.

“happy birthday (name)..me and diluc is in here to plant some cecilia’s..would you mind? Ah if you do..you could breeze the bells there, please don’t mind diluc, he’s lost right now.” , kaeya pleaded to downfall of the gravestone. Whispering questions and rants for the owner of it to know. The bell rang and under the wing it sang. they gladly appreciate your visit, diluc. Kaeya steal his glance to diluc’s unfocused eyes, it look as if it were questioning every each of it’s memories. Who are they and why does kaeya think of them as one of the part of him?

Planting the seeds of cecilia under the ground of the suspicious gravestone. The Crystalflies even surrounded it with grace, as if they all belong to their first habitat, the gravestone of the wilderness. Who are they and why are their remenance so…beautiful?

“hmhm, goodjob. Thank you for accepting our birthday offer..diluc and i will go now, farewell for now, see you soon” , cleaning the dirt from the gravestone. Diluc once again asked kaeya’s answer. But nothing could be found from his brother mouth, it seems it was hidden for diluc’s sake.

“you’ll recognize them again diluc, sooner or after.”

soon never came. Kaeya wasn’t here, he was already gone from the resident, Taking diluc’s place aren’t that easy after all. pale and unrecognized, diluc came to his once work office which he never touch any longer. Searching for documents for kaeya to read for him later at night. His fingertips are still the same, numb and empty. I lack something but what are they…? This uncureable piece of shit was such a bothersome.

oh..what is this..?

a letter? — opening it with caution, diluc found the sight of something he craves. The writing of those who couldn’t be recognized by his mind, yet the feeling..it was warm. So warm and comfortable, that it even shakes diluc’s empathy.

to, my sweetheart, diluc ragnvindr.

i never knew when would you opened this but i think you opened it few years since i have died. I know the side affects of your ilness. So i wouldn’t mind if you forget me all along. It’s not your fault for leaving your old memories and life behind, your ilness is one of the part of your issues diluc and I totally understand that, better than kaeya, better than adeline or elzer. And if you forget about me, it’s fine. You don’t need to remember me, just read this all along alright?

Diluc, my swetheart. You probably found this crumpled behind your documents. Maybe kaeya would found it first than you do and it wouldn’t be much of a problem for me to bare, after all i’m dead and even if you apologize i wouldn’t dare to say i would forgive you. Cause diluc, i’m hopelessly in love with you. I love you diluc. Even if you forget me, even if you died in your old age and disastrous days, even if you don’t love me any longer. I’ll be very happy if you could still read this letter. Your curiosity is the reason i’m alive for once diluc. Your warm is the reason of my short-recovery diluc. You are everything. And if you forgot, then it’ll be fine. Read this letter everytime you felt lost, because no home without your lover, no? Ah nevermind that’s a shitty joke isn’t it diluc? Hehe

I’m very satisfied with what I’ve achieved in my lifetime. I got to be with you and your family. I feel like i’m apart of them, apart from who i become. I escape and i’m alright. I’m alive and it’s all because of you diluc. I’m happy. Very happy. But one thing i couldn’t regret more is the fact i couldn’t marry you and tell my devotions to the crowds. I want you foreve diluc, but our time is short enough for each other sake. Fate was cruel, but it’s fair and merciful. It gave us a time to met each other and i’m thankful.

So diluc, whenever you feel lost. Feel free to found me in the crystalflies and in the starry night of the winds. Whenever you need me, i’ll be there. just so let you know i’m the donor of your heart, please don’t regret the fact i’m sharing my life with you. I’m happy to know you are alive, diluc. As long ad you enjoyed your days and live a well-long life, i’ll be happy to give you my everything. I might couldn’t give you this year, but here. Open this envelope, it’s a present. For what exactly? For your own love, diluc. Accept it, would you? I don’t mind if you wouldn’t, but if you want to wear it, feel free to use it.

I’m very happy to be alive diluc, i love you.

The letters ended and so do his tears scroll through his cheeks. The crystalflies in the gravestone. Oh it’s you all along..? Why didn’t you cry out of regret? Are you happy for what diluc became? Are you, my dear…? He was scared of letting you loved him again. He deserve nothing but your hatred. The envelope, it was fill with your charm bracelet. The matching bracelet you used to talk with diluc.

The gravestone, the cecilia’s..? Aren’t those the promises diluc made before? i’ll grow garden of hundreds cecilia’s with you. But he forgot. Your existance are nothing to him anymore, he lost his senses, he lost everything. This heart..your heart. It was pounding rapidly, it even showed diluc emotions again. He was crying in pain. He was crying in sorrow. Oh god, i wish i’m not that weak. I wish i still love you the same as how those letter told me. Darling, will you love me again? No response. He was truly out of his mind to forget the ones who bring his dimmed eyes back alive. So once again he confesses, falling to his knees as he begged for his mind to remembered you.

The days have past so did you died in his eyes. Casket opened and emptied with your body, cecilia all over the ground. You are dead and yet the pounding heart of yours are the result of love. Strokes his body with empty thoughts, he began to murmured again his love.

your heart..it’s warm, My dear.

TAGLIST : @mikachuchu , @zierx, @childeluv @urujiako , @chichikoi , @noirkkat , @aphrodicts-imagination

[mass-of-men]

why do you think catch 22 (a show) so bad, especially in comparison to the book?

Excellent question! Now keep in mind I'm not an English major, I'm a History and Film major so I'm just looking at this novel as someone who has read Catch-22 around 10 times and I've watched the show in full around 4 times now and I talked about it when it first came out here.

I think ultimately it comes down to how the show represents ending. It is not only a change from the book, it is about as far from the book's ending as one could get. I talked about the ending here but to go further into just having it end with Snowden's death I think completely destroys the not just Yossarian's story, but the story of the war itself.

Heller's book is designed in the way that Snowden's death is revealed throughout the whole book and it is not until the end that we get to see what really happened. Now I'm not saying I would have needed flashbacks to Snowden's death like in the 1970 film, but Snowden's name is mentioned so many times that his death is something that clearly represents the fall of the war and the military industrial complex to Yossarian. Snowden represents the lives and the feelings of every young man who joined the war in order to be, doomed to die.

Hell, 35 pages into the book, Yossarian asks "Where are the Snowdens of yesteryear?". He is quite literally asking the high command, where are the young men you sent into battle knowing they would not come back. Snowden's constant presence is a reminder of what war cost, the same as the Dead Man in Yossarian and Orr's tent. The book does an excellent job of making it so we as the audience understand why he wants to escape but can't actually fathom why until the end of the book when during his surgery, Yossarian remembers Snowden.

Now for it being my favorite book, to be honest I'm not a huge fan of Heller's style. I think it makes perfect sense for this book, in that the American military industrial complex is as confusing and nonsensical as Heller's writing is but the end of the book gets me completely. "It was easy to read the message in his entrails. Man was matter, that was Snowden’s secret. Drop him out a window and he’ll fall. Set fire to him and he’ll burn. Bury him and he’ll rot, like other kinds of garbage. The spirit gone, man is garbage. That was Snowden’s secret."

It is because Yossarian learns Snowden's secret he truly realizes he has to leave. And that is the part that makes the deaths of all his friends(although I'm not sure book Yossarian would call any one there his actual friend) all the more tragic, he knows he has to get out and yet has to watch all the people he know die one by one as if counting down to him. He is going to suffer the same fate as every other man there and he will have no way in the matter.

Like I said in my other post about the ending, Snowden's death is the beginning of Yossarian's story, not the ending.

To go back to the show for a moment, the ending has me feeling empty, but not in the way it was trying for. I don't think any Yossarian, let that be the book, the 1970 film, or the miniseries, would accept death and more so his fate.

His most famous quote is literally "Live forever or die in the attempt", it is not death that he fears but not being in control of his fate. Being send to die by people who won't even tell him why. I think that's why the book(and film by extension) ending works so well. Yes, he could die trying to row from Italy to Sweden, but it would be Yossarian's choice to do so, he is in charge of his ending.

That's why the show's ending fails because it is simply not Yossarian accepting his fate to die but to almost welcome it with no one left. He is not alone in the book, he has Danby and the Chaplain and most importantly he has Orr waiting for him in Sweden. The show Yossarian is unwilling to leave to go to Orr for... some reason. That's it, the show never explains why Yossarian doesn't go AWOL. The book does an amazing job at highlighting every attempt by Yossarian to leave in an ethical(more or less) way and him going AWOL is the last resort. but it is the only way he will not die in battle. Yet the show Yossarian is just willing to die for Cathcart, Korn, and Scheisskopf because he's too tired to even try.

I feel like the show was trying to twist the story into being about these wacky group of boys being screwed over by the military and how they all tragically die because of it, but the book speaks to so much more. Catch-22 isn't All Quiet on the Western Front, and I don't think the show runner remembered that.

Now that's not to say there aren't parts of the show I liked. I loved the cast, especially Christopher Abbott as Yossarian, the cinematography was beyond beautiful, and I still listen to the soundtrack. I just was so beyond disappointed as a huge fan of the novel when the show came out because it truly didn't feel like it was made by someone who had an appreciation for the work itself.

[prodbyblush]

fall into it - arisu ryohei

ｎｏｗ ｌｏａｄｉｎｇ . . .

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100%

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

・❥・not requested

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: As a game dealer, you watched through your screen as the boy who caught your eye in the Borderland lose his friends

Genre: Graphic descriptions of death and violence, blood, angst

As a child, reading fantasy books was like an escape to your reality. Not wanting to do homework and getting away from stressful classmates, you often fantasized about waking up one day and you're the only person in the world.

Until it came to life.

You, Momoka and Asahi were suddenly brought into a world that looked very much like Tokyo, but desserted. No one but just the three of you still in your school uniforms, wandering around the used to be busy city of Tokyo, searching for answers to your questions.

Momoka decided to film everything in the hopes that one day, someone would pick up her phone and used their videos as an explanation to what is exactly happening. Though Asahi thought that these videos were useless, you agreed that Momoka should continue filming.

One day, a woman and a man approached the three of you. It was the first time you saw people in this strange place. The man wore rimmed glasses and had a stern look on his face while the woman he is with wore an all black outfit while holding onto a pink parasol above her head, eerily smiling at the three of you.

"Would you three...like to become dealers?"

As happy as you are finally getting to see people in this random world, you knew people like them shouldn't be trusted. One, you didn't know who they are and what they are trying to offer onto your plate. Two, what dealers was this woman talking about? And three, there was something in her voice that made you three be persuaded and followed them into the dark train station.

Memories filled into your head as you stepped foot into Oedo Line. You remember the after school activities the three of you cherished, getting boba tea's while gossiping about classmates, trying out the latest menu on your favorite coffee shop or just simply buying keychains to stick onto the zippers of your backpacks.

But this place is now dull and filled with people you didn't know. Why were they shouting and cheering in front of the many monitors in front of them? Who are these people that they are watching? Weren't visa's meant to be used when travelling to another country?

The woman and the man who brought you three into this place were named Kuzuryuu and Mira. Being the game masters, they informed you that they were kind enough to secure you a spot as a game dealer. Offering longer visa days than most players could ever have. If needed, they would send you out to the game arenas to confuse the players or pretend to be players yourselves.

And if ever you three die in the games that you got dispatched to, then that's just truly tragic.

Desperate and wanting to live, you watched how other game masters create the games and then watch the other game dealers make bets among the players in the screen. If all the players die, dealers would be given ten days visa. But if the players lived, dealers would get five days.

This wasn't the kind of life that you hoped for. But what could you do? The three of you were magically pulled into this world and hearing Momoka cry made you feel like crying too. Heartbroken at what you have to do in order to live, you cried along with her on the side tracks of the train station.

"The game is about to begin!" You heard one of the game dealers say. Silently, you went over to them and watched as five people took a hold on the phones provided.

Your heart skipped a beat seeing a tall boy with unkept long hair, wearing a light blue shirt and possibly long board shorts used to wear when going to the beach. He looked confused and was accompanied by two other people. Soon, they were joined by an older woman and a frantic school girl.

"Look at her! I bet she's going to die first"

"Damn I wished there were more players for this game"

Silently wishing to yourself, you hoped he would survive this game. Watching him closely enter the elevator then exit, as the game commenced, you gripped on the lower hem of your skirt. Anxiety filled you as you watched him play but his time would decrease by ten seconds everytime they enter a new door to exit the building.

"That burn looks bad. I feel bad for him though."

"Who cares? They all look like they are about to die"

Silently, you glared at the person who said that before averting your eyes back to the screen. Clasping your hands together, you jumped at the back as you watched him clear the game.

"They all lived except for that kid huh..."

"Whatever. My five days visa matters more."

You didn't cared about how many days you had, you badly wanted to see him again. It looked like the game he was in earlier was his first game, meaning he could have been pulled here into today.

The following day, you didn't see him. Having scanned the hundreds and thousands of screens that were displayed, you couldn't find him. Lazily, you sat down on the empty chair and just watched random people kill each other and slaying wild animals with weapons.

Two days after, you saw him again and you swore your heart made a leap. Very much happy to see him again, you took a seat and watched him play a game with his friends and the older woman they are with at a botanical garden.

"What game are they playing today?"

"A 7 of Hearts"

"Oh, the one that Kaho created?"

"Yep that one"

You slightly trembled in your seat. Kaho's games were mostly death games, and it didn't came to surprise you when the game was titled as sheep and wolf, one player would be wolf and the rest are sheeps, hiding for their lives to escape the wolf or try their hands at killing the wolf.

But knowing him, even if you didn't personally know him, you know he didn't had it in him to kill.

It was heart wrenching to watch him desperately trying to clear the game without killing them, watching wrack through his brain to think of a solution when time kept ticking on them.

And then the devices around their necks blew off except his. Blood splattering everywhere as now lifeless bodies fall limp on the earthy ground. The screen turned off as he lets out a shrill of cry. Distressed, you leaned back on your seat before turning your head to look at the screen of the phone you held.

5 days.

If only it was possible, you would have given him the card without playing the game.

[cleverpaws]

if you don't want to see my negative and VERY stream of conciousness No Beta We Die Like Whatever Happened To FC Hetch ask-response-turned-review of the founders cut then don't keep reading because dear god i don't even know what happened here

i won't lie i got more of a "zero is nonbinary" reading from them asking to be called zero rather than miss roads at the end (which tbh maybe is wishful thinking. but i hope we're getting representation of a trans character in a world with transphobia please dear god i need less perfect world escapism and more using transphobic society as an aspect of horror please please god)

but. god yeah hit the nail on the head with everything else. hetch's lines feel jarring and are overacted in places. the scenes where he's angry are good but then he somehow becomes too cartoonishly evil and it falls flat. ranboo is the main character because they're all the fans care about so they're the main character because they're all the Audience cares about right guys!! right!!! who needs those other guys!!! who cares about the content creation allegory not me!!! why the fuck would ranboo feel guilty for killing these people we had no time to get attached to. ranboo feels more like The Hero than our vessel through which we view his world which i understand was necessary in some sense but we only have their perspective. of everything. so we need more of our own context for why them standing by and watching them die is so horrific rather than just relying on the fact that these are supposedly ranboo's friends (which??? who knows!! maybe they fucking aren't!!!! showfall puts memories in people's brains so !!!!!!)

sneeg is no longer even mentioned as a starring role in the credits despite the fact that for the first two episodes hetch only appears for maybe 4 minutes combined tops. this show is about ranboo and hetch now!! and charlie!!! for some fucking reason!!!! just because he's There In All Three Episodes!!! sneeg is too he just fucking dies quicker so uhhh who cares its fine!! who gave a shit about that guy anyway sure.

niki's death even somehow felt less well-timed??? god maybe i'm crazy but that really threw me for a loop. how was there still a delay in the edited version??? i'm no editor but like. that?? should be a somewhat easy fix??? right. right????

this isn't even getting me started on all the things i think could have been done differently with the audio mixing--which i was GOING to say i was more normal about but guys. oh my fucking god. in og episode three there's a moment when they've locked themselves in that room with the double doors and ranboo fumbles and says "every of it" instead of something coherent. and while i was forgiving of this like i was forgiving of everything in the original tse production it Did always kind of stick out like a sore thumb and ruin the immersion a little. not that i really minded!! again like i said in one of my other posts i loved how scrappy tse was, i was just thinking the fc was going to polish up all the little mistakes like that.

but of COURSE now my immersion gets to be ruined every more by niki's voice in her introduction sounding like she's suddenly speaking in a closet!!! and they didn't even fix "every of it" !!!!! i don't understand

the founder's cut was disappointing and i'm not just saying that as someone who wasn't particularly looking forward to it after months of overpromising and shit like that on ranboo's part. this seems rushed. this doesn't seem like a labor of love anymore. when i look at the fc, i don't see the team effort that went into the social experiments. i see the Hero. because i guess that's all we're supposed to see. maybe that's the point. maybe it's a satire on how focused we all got on gl!ranboo and how tragic he is rather than the story itself. but from the way ranboo's been talking about it i'm not inclined to believe that. the irony of ranboo also releasing lore--and from the looks of it, an arg--behind a merch paywall, is also not lost on me.

i don't mean to say it was all bad. because it wasn't. it Did have its moments. like i said, hetch's voice acting was only insufferable at times (and there's an argument to be made that that's just nostalgia for his old lines talking, too, which would be fair) his short temper was definitely an interesting change, and his anger felt terrifyingly real at points. and maybe there are things i was missing. watching something live (i watched the premier like most) has always ended up with me missing some bits, so maybe i'm just missing context. i'm aware i only caught one of the photorealistic weird gore bits from the first episode which means i need to rewatch it as soon as i'm able to pay closer attention just to catch those, if nothing else (<- obsessed with weird gore)

but. yeah. this turned into a literal essay so i'm sorry to any poor souls that clicked read more thinking this was just going to be a crazed paragraph or so. erm. i'm a little disappointed chat. gotta get my thoughts out somewhere

if you disagree with anything here, awesome. this really truly isn't an attack on anyone who enjoyed the founder's cut or even ranboo himself (though i have my grievances) this is just me trying to put into words what exactly felt so... hollow. about this. it's weird being critical of things someone i used to look up to almost blindly created. there's more things i'm upset about but i'll save it for another day when i'm able to think a little more coherently

and. sorry anon for maybe jumpscaring you with. this. in response to your thoughts on a fandom confessions account LMAO

...guyss I feel like the founders cut was ranboo playing into what the fandom wanted a little bit... more ranboo and charlie and half of sneeg and carousel crews screentime being erased? more evil hetch? and zero being confirmed a girl after every one and their mom made zero and j into small town lesbians experiencing a mystery? and ofc i dont care if that was rans vision the whole time but it just feels really... coincidental??

.