#because he's never thought that he could choose :
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new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)
You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior.
And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.
Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.
Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.
Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself.
He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.
The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any.
There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.
“Are we… alright?” he drawled.
What the fuck. He did not just sound like that.
He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.
Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”
“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.
“Okay, Rin.”
That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.
“Are you mad at me?”
“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?
“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.
You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)
“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”
“You so are!”
“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”
There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.
“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”
“Not to you, it’s not!”
A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting.
Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”
“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.
With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.”
“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.
“I’m not childish.”
“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”
Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.
“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.
“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind.
“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.
The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit.
They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.
He was now something more, something special.
A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.
It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for.
Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you.
It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim.
You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.
Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”
“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.
note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.
#☁️ my ode to you#i have more drabbles like this i am fucking insane about him#itoshi rin x reader#itoshi rin#itoshi rin fluff#itoshi rin x y/n#blue lock x reader#blue lock imagines#blue lock fluff#bllk x reader#bllk imagines#rin itoshi x reader#rin itoshi
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One aspect of Halsin's epilogue dialogue with a solomanced player that sticks out to me is Halsin saying that he fears coming will turn out to be a mistake, before explaining that he took the player from a life of high adventure to one that can be described as anything but. And then after being reassured, he says that he still expects to stir from the dream, or that part of him fears something MUST go wrong, depending on the option the player chooses.
Meaning... he had thought about this before and had wondered if it as a good idea, and had concluded that it possibly wouldn't. That going would quite possibly- maybe even probably- make the player realize they weren't happy with him anymore, leave him, and return to their life of high adventure. That he'd "stir from the dream" and be alone once more, because surely no one would actually continue to choose him? Surely he's too happy, surely something in his life must go wrong eventually?
He literally fears that going to the party could result in the player leaving him, and he still does it anyway not only because he loved and missed their traveling companions that much, but because he knows if that is what the player chooses, he'll have to respect it, even if it will utterly gut him in the process.
"You could have done anything. Gone with anyone. Yet you chose me."
And in that is an unspoken question- why? Did you really mean it?
And then... the player reassures him. They promise him they're happy. That they never looked back, that they chose him for a reason.
And maybe he's still afraid of stirring from the dream, but he at least knows it's going to last a bit longer.
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⋆ 𝓙𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵 𝓥𝓲𝓹𝓮𝓻: 𝓐 𝓙𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓣𝓼𝓾𝓶 ⋆
I wrote this for an OC of mine, but changed it to be a x Reader so that I could post it! Enjoy! ♡
⋆ It's scary how similar they are, you couldn't help but think, feeling a pair of eyes on you.
You're sitting in the lounge of Scarabia, playing with Kalim's tsum. Jamil's tsum sits a few feet away, watching you intensely. Kalim had an emergency club meeting to attend, the Pop Music Club's concert having been rescheduled to be sooner. The members were left scrambling to practice with the short deadline. Since Jamil had his duties to attend to, you offered to watch their tsums for them, Kalim thanking you and saying goodbye to his tsum before rushing off.
⋆ Jamil was more reluctant, hesitating for a moment before allowing it with a sigh. Him and his tsum locked eyes, staring at each other. They stayed that way for a minute, having a silent conversation before he left down the hall. Since they left, all Jamil's tsum did was stare at you, keeping his distance. It reminded you so much of Jamil, how he always seemed to watch you for some reason, never really approaching. It made you nervous, looking back every once in a while to see if the tsum was still there.
⋆ You weren't sure why it put you on edge, much like how Jamil's staring would. Perhaps it's because you're unsure what you did wrong, looking back again to see the tsum behind you, watching you still. You took a deep breath, doing your best to focus on Kalim's tsum. He was a little bundle of energy, never seeming to keep still as he bounced about happily. Watching him made you smile, laughing as you played. A chill ran up your spine as you felt Jamil tsum's stare, turning to see the tsum was looking at you much more intensely. It almost seemed like he was glaring at you, making you turn back to Kalim's tsum with a frown.
⋆ The happy tsum seemed to notice the change in your mood, laying himself in your lap as a way to comfort you. You looked down at the tsum, his eyes looking back at you as if asking if you were alright. A small smile came to your face, petting the top of his head. He was so cute, and reminded you so much of Kalim. You looked back to check on Jamil's tsum, doing a double take when you realized he wasn't there. You started looking around the room, trying to see where the tsum could have gone to and doing your best not to panic.
⋆ Right as you were about to get up and start searching the halls, Jamil's tsum appeared, carrying something on his back. As he got closer you realized it was a plate of fruit, the tsum sitting it down in front of you. You stared at the tsum in confusion as he nudged the plate, as if telling you to eat. You pick up a grape, realizing you were hungrier than you thought. Your chest grows warm as you eat the fruit, realizing the tsum had noticed you hadn't eaten in a while.
⋆ You turn to look at him with a shy smile, petting the tsum's head as you thank him. The tsum seems pleased by this, soaking in your touch. After a moment, Kalim's tsum hops in your lap, clearly wanting some attention too. You laugh at his antics, moving to pet his head instead. You feel Jamil's tsum staring again, just as intense as before. You turn to the tsum, wondering what was wrong. As you gaze at the tsum you realize his stare wasn't directed at you, following his line of sight to the tsum in your lap.
⋆ It takes a moment before it clicks, with you apologizing to Jamil's tsum and shifting your attention back to him.
"Ah, sorry! Did you want to sit in my lap too?"
Jamil's tsum seemed embarrassed at being caught, but didn't deny your offer, moving to lay next to Kalim's tsum. Though he didn't seem happy with sharing, pushing the other tsum out of your lap when you weren't looking. Kalim's tsum bounced back up a moment later, choosing to sit on your shoulder instead.
⋆ Jamil was done with his tasks for the day, heading back to the dorm lounge to check on you. He hopes Kalim's tsum didn't give you too much trouble, figuring his own wouldn't do much. If anything, perhaps his tsum helped you keep Kalim's in check. When he got to the doorway of the lounge he froze, taking in the sight before him. You sat on the floor, Kalim's tsum sitting on your shoulder while his own rests in your lap. You had a small smile on your face as you looked down at the tsum, petting his head. His tsum was clearly pleased with the attention, looking smug when he noticed Jamil in the doorway. Jamil couldn't help but cross his arms, shooting his tsum a look.
⋆ What he wasn't prepared for was you picking his tsum up from your lap, lifting the tsum close to your face as you eyed him affectionately.
"You really do look like Jamil! Same hair, same clothes. It's so cute!"
You press a gentle kiss to his tsum's forehead, setting him back in your lap afterwards. The sight causes his heart to pound in his chest, feeling flustered as he turns around. He'll come back later, after he's calmed down ♡
I might post the original one I wrote featuring my OC one day, but for now...
𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡
#♡.sheep writes#♡.twst#♡.jamil viper#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#jamil viper#jamil viper x reader#jamil x reader
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room for two | jjk: prologue
a series from the "Misfit Parent Collection"
⌞banner and dividers by @itaeewon
title: room for two
pairing: heir/retired boxer!jeon jungkook x single mother!reader
genre/rating: angst, slow burn, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, ceo!jungkook, divorced!reader, aged up characters (in their mid thirties), surrogacy/pregnancy au; 18+
summary: As you signed the contract, you thought all your problems were solved—and so did he. However, no one can predict what life will throw your way.
Despite your prejudices, this journey will reveal that the bond you share goes deeper than your womb.
wc: 1.7k
warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions a sh*tty parent, character death, borderline inappropriate workplace relationships but nothing has exactly happened, swearing, mentions boxing & knockouts, people either like jungkook or they hate him, let me know if i missed anything
release date: april 26th, 2024; 10:50pm est
note: the prologue is here !! i hope you all are ready for this ride. it's been a two year journey for me and i'm so happy you all get to join me. we have a lot to cover and so many people to meet. i hope you're ready !!
series masterlist | main masterlist | inbox | join the taglist? | read on ao3
One year ago.
The doors open to reveal the setting sun on the horizon. Shades of orange and red paint the sky as the faint presence of stars patiently awaits the giant orb's departure.
Jungkook steps out into the crisp evening air without regard for the gusts that violently displace his perfectly styled bangs.
His urgent steps have nothing to do with the conditions. After a long and exhausting day, he tends to enjoy a nippy pre-spring breeze.
When he approaches the exit, his energy is almost completely drained. The first step he takes out of the building is like an instant charge, and the wind hitting his face is like a slap that brings him back to reality.
If that isn't enough to wake up his brain, the sharpness of his security personnel's tone will surely have him alert.
Two men of large stature guide him to his Porsche. He can only imagine the twinkle in his eyes when they land on his baby—resting idly while she waits for him to claim his rightful seat behind the wheel.
Jungkook nearly bypasses his guards as he takes excited strides toward his vehicle. However, a muscular bicep forms a barricade directly in front of the young CEO, reminding him of the dangers of wandering ahead of them in public.
Only authorized staff are allowed on the premises. Still, even a company as large as Sport's 5 cannot dictate who stands on a public sidewalk. Fortunately, most of the people who choose to spend their time out here are harmless. However, he still understands the importance of safety.
Some people are so desperate they'd do anything to get a picture with the Big 5—a panel Jungkook used to sit on before being offered an executive position.
Sport's 5 comprises five individuals who have had exceptional professional sports careers. These are mainly retired sportsmen and women who still love the game.
Jungkook was offered a seat at the table before he could properly hang up his gloves. Everyone wanted to know his story, his input and opinions, and his firsthand account of the KO he delivered right to Joey "The Rhino" Reese.
Although it was the best highlight of his career, he's never publicly spoken on that night out of respect for the legend and his family. It'd be pointless to keep retelling the events when they're online for everyone to see.
Despite keeping his mouth shut about the fall of an icon, he still receives his share of hate from the boxer's diehard fans.
"Coward!"
He hears a man shouting insults from across the street, but most of his words are inaudible due to the distance. It can't be anything good because a family walking by promptly covers their child's ears every time the man opens his mouth.
Like on any other occasion, Jungkook shrugs off the spew of hate and gets into his car, wishing security a safe night. The engine roars as he pushes start. The sound of purring grasps one of the men's attention, and he turns around with a point, a silent compliment that Jungkook accepts with a nod as he speeds away.
With only headlights in his rearview mirror, Jungkook zooms through the city—wondering where his journey will take him. After the day he's had, home seems like a great option, but he isn't in the mood to spend a weeknight surrounded by silence in a large penthouse.
So, he drives downtown, aiming for any bar without a crowd. That shouldn't be too hard. Most people have work tomorrow, and they aren't in the mood for a party, and neither is he.
A distraction is all he needs to ease his restless mind.
He reaches the heart of the city and parks near the curb. Heads turn as he exits his vehicle, wondering who he could be. With his shades on and natural hair color, it's hard for people to recognize his identity these days.
Still, everyone is captivated by the car he steps out of. They could care less about his appearance. The real attention grabbers are the wealth that oozes from his body and his Porsche. Without money, he's just another guy.
Jungkook adjusts his suit as he scopes out the area. He notices the establishment across from him has upbeat music blasting through the speakers. Judging by the people lined up, waiting to get in—it's more of a nightclub than a lounge.
He sighs as he eliminates one place after another, eventually deciding to walk the strip and see what it offers.
He nearly misses it as he strolls aimlessly, but tucked in the corner—dark and rustic—is just what he's been searching for.
Somewhere laid back and secluded; just somewhere you go for a drink and maybe a few rounds of pool.
He can count the number of occupants in there on one hand, so before anyone can figure out who he is, he steps inside and removes his glasses. He scans the room and acknowledges those who randomly lock eyes with him.
Jungkook can't help but admire the way this place is set up. The outside doesn't do it any justice; he can't even remember the name on the sign. He'll have to check on his way out; tell some of his colleagues to visit so it can gain some more customers.
He'll have to look into that another time, though. He wants to spend only a little time here, so he makes his way to the bar.
Two women stand on each side; one is at the register printing someone's bill, and the other is already waiting for him to order.
The greeting he receives is warm and sincere. One you will only find in a few places. He offers a smile, the best he can give, at least.
"Hey. Just a Jack & Coke for me," he replies.
With a slight nod, the bartender begins preparing his drink.
While Jungkook waits, he starts going through his phone, checking texts he missed while he was up to his neck in paperwork.
Most of them are from associates, his trainer, and…
His assistant?
The number isn't saved because he hasn't used it, but he sees the name in a previous message—letting him know he's speaking with the woman he hired four months ago.
6:54 pm (###) ###-####: Hi! I think I dropped my earring in your car when we grabbed lunch today. Can you check?
He doesn't have to.
Jungkook saw when the earring "fell" between the center console and the passenger seat. It happened right after its owner dropped it there.
He can't help but laugh at the whole thing. Had he remembered, he would have said something immediately, but he has to admit that the low-cut blouse was a great choice. He can't count how many red lights he almost ran, sneaking glances.
Usually, he has no problem keeping things professional, but with all the flirting and teasing over the last few weeks, the temptation is becoming a bit unbearable.
Maybe he should take a detour on the way home and return the "lost" item.
7:49 pm Him: I'll look in a few
After he sends the message, his drink is placed before him, and he abandons his phone without hesitation.
"Tab or no?"
"No, love. That's it for me.."
He places a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and pushes it toward the woman behind the counter.
"Keep what's left," he insists.
She takes the cash and walks to the register, leaving him alone to sip his liquor and bob his head to some classic rock.
As soon as the glass touches his lip, he takes a large sip, and regret washes over his entire body.
"What the—"
"Don't drink that," the other bartender whispers sharply.
She rushes over and takes the glass from his hand, instantly replacing it with a new one.
"She's trying, but…"
Jungkook understands entirely. She's still learning. Everyone's been there, even him.
"Don't worry about it," he insists. "Let me grab my wallet—"
She declines.
"It's on me, sweetheart."
Before he can argue, she walks away and disappears with the horrible drink her coworker made.
Despite the little hiccup, Jungkook is glad he found this little gem. It seems like a nice place for a good time, but also somewhere to unwind. There's a bar, a dance floor, a billiards table—and whoever is in charge of the music has great taste.
He'll definitely be back, maybe even tomorrow.
The next sip he takes does exactly what it's supposed to do. "Goddamn it."
The liquor makes his mouth and throat tingle as it travels into his body. He can feel his body relaxing already. Now, all he needs is a shower and—
His phone buzzes in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Once again, the number is unknown.
Jungkook intends to ignore it, but his thumb accidentally presses accept. He stares at the screen in disbelief as he hears the faint sound of someone's voice on the other end of the call.
Slowly, he brings it to his ear and acknowledges the caller.
"Hello?"
"Hi, son."
Great, this is just what he needs right now. A call from his father, someone who basically disowned him for chasing the same dream that led to his wealth and success.
"Yeah, I'm kind of busy. Can I call you back?"
He lies so he can end the call. There isn't a drink here that can give him enough strength to put up with this man. He can't deal with this tonight, and he won't.
"Hold on!" he shouts through the phone, making Jungkook release a defeated sigh.
He's entirely prepared to hang up in his father's face if he has to, but he'll entertain him for a few more seconds.
"Look, I don't know who pumped your balls up so large that you have the audacity to call me, but—"
"It's your grandfather, Jungkook."
There's a pause.
There is a long, dreadful pause. It's as if Jungkook already knows what he's about to say, and unfortunately, his instinct is right.
"He's dead."
thanks for reading !!💕 now that you've read the prologue. check out this poll.
#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfic#jungkook smut#bts x reader#bts fanfic#bts smut#bts fics#jungkook fics#jungkook imagines#bts imagines#jeon jungkook smut#jeon jungkook fanfic#aaagustd.fics
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Change the Narrative
If people knew the truth, they would call her a selfish monster.
But Katara had sacrificed anything for the world, for an ungrateful husband!
This time she would always choose herself first!
Here is a little one-shot of my anger about what happened to Katara in canon.
I want to give her the end she deserves, so I hope you enjoy it!
Katara knew it was time for her to die.
She felt it in her old bones.
Alone she lay in her bed at the South Pole and watched how the snow was falling.
At least she would die seeing the beauty of her homeland.
It was a good death.
The old woman blinked tears away and tried to be positive about her nearing death.
She would see Sokka, her father, her mother and Gran-Gran again.
It was good.
She had lived a long happy life.
Something burning and unsettling spread through her chest as she thought this.
Was it a happy life?
How often did she and Aang argue over simple things?
How often did she beg him not to play favourites with Tenzin? Yes, their youngest was an airbender, but what about Bumi and Kya? They were his children too.
But no!
The Air Nomad legacy was more important than their two oldest children and their pain.
Once upon a time when she was a young girl and fantasized about the man and family one day she would have, she never would have guessed how she became the kind of mother, who didn't fight for her children.
Who didn't call out her husband for his wrongdoings?
However, she had so with Aang. Since she had met him, she always had mothered him, shielded him from things which didn't fit his narrative.
He was the Avatar, the only hope to end the war, with a track record of running away.
They couldn't lose him, so she had protected him the best she could.
And she did so to her children.
No wonder Bumi and Kya didn't even visit her and Tenzin didn't have much of a relationship with her.
Where did she go wrong in her life?
When did she become a shadow of herself in the name of love?
Why did she even choose Aang?
Was it because of Aunt Wu's prediction, she would marry a powerful bender or because she had a feeling Aang...deserved her?
He loved her and had ended the war.
Was it so bad to give him a chance?
Sadly after sacrificing her best years for him and being rewarded to die alone without her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren around her, it may have been the most stupid decision she ever made.
Spirits, was she a bad person to think that?
She loved her family, really she did, but deep down she had to admit...she wouldn't do it a second time.
Katara wouldn't sacrifice herself, her ideals, and her dreams for Aang's dream.
She had her whole life given and given and was now at the end of it rewarded with nothing.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, as she slowly closed her eyes.
Soon she would join her loved ones...
Just...
If she could...
If the spirits were so kind...
If dear Yue heard her...
She wanted a second chance.
She wanted to live a life for herself and herself alone.
Katara had given in this life all and more...was it so bad that she wished for a second chance to get it this time right?
Was she selfish?
Maybe.
Surely.
But anyone had a point in their life where they had to put themselves first.
Her only regret was that she did not realise it sooner.
Katara closed her eyes and felt the last beats of her heart.
Never noting how the moon was shining brightly down at her...
***
She felt pain in her head.
Katara hissed and touched her forehead.
Why did she get a headache?
Where was she?
She blinked to banish the shadows before her eyes.
Slowly she could see.
Ah yes.
She was outside General Iroh's tea shop in Ba Sing Se.
The waterbender had seen Aang walk out and wanted to join him.
It was high time that she gave Aang her answer about them being a couple.
She had been unsure a few days ago, but now with the war over...why shouldn't she give him a chance?
He was standing at the balustrade watching the setting sun, it was the perfect moment.
As the waterbender made her first step towards him, an avalanche of emotions and vision filled her whole being.
Katara gasped quietly, trying to make sense of this.
It was too fast and also too slow...however, she felt it in her bones...whatever she had planned kissing Aang and getting together with him...it would be the worst decision of her life!
No, she didn't want what she had seen.
How could she sell herself, her principals, and her honour for a guy?!
How could she be together with someone who would play favourites with their children?!
No, absolutely not!
Whether this was a vision from the future to save her from this faith Katara didn't know, but what she knew she wouldn't make the same mistakes twice!
So angry she walked up to Aang and tapped his shoulder.
The Avatar turned smiling towards her. He seemed so happy and hopeful and looked at her like she had hung the stars and the moon.
For a second she flatter, which only made the vision come forth again and made her anger tenfold.
Oh no!
Not with her!
"Aang.", she began. "I don't love you and I never will! Stop pestering me about us being a couple! If you don't accept my feelings I will waterwhip you do your next incarnation, do you understand me?!"
To say he was shocked was the understatement of the century. She could formally see the heartbreak in his eyes and how he tried to speak up, maybe to guilt trip her, however, she wasn't having anything of it.
"Nothing you will say and do will ever change my mind! So don't even try. I will go back with Sokka to the South Pole and rebuild my home. That's where I belong!"
Dramatically she turned around and entered the tea shop again.
The others tried their hardest to seem like they hadn't listened in, yet Katara saw through them.
She sends them all an annoyed look.
"What?!"
No one said anything for a few seconds before Toph snickered: "Oh sugar queen, I hoped you had it in you."
This makes Katara smile.
***
The next months of her life Katara rebuilt with her father and Sokka their home.
The Nothern Watertribe had tried to turn the South into a second North, except Katara was having none of it.
As a war hero, master waterbender and daughter of the chief she used all her power to stop this chances.
She was a force of nature!
No one had a chance against her.
Her family was so proud of her and she was satisfied with herself.
Yes, this was where she belonged.
Helping people and not being the soulless, passionless arm candy of Aang!
Katara was happy.
A voice inside her told her how she deserved it.
***
A year later found Katara as ambassador for her people at the first peace summit.
She was happy seeing Zuko again, they had written to each other, yet seeing each other in person was much better.
He had become her best friend.
And her wall against Aang.
As Avatar he was at the peace summit too. Of course, he tried to talk with her. Tried to sway her, saying he missed her and wanted to be friends again.
She saw right through him. Aang still wanted her.
Thank the spirits for Zuko having her back and distracting Aang.
When they enjoyed together a cup of tea in General Iroh's tea shop she thanked him for his help.
Awkwardly he waved it away.
It was nothing.
He and Mai had broken up and the black-haired girl wasn't happy about it.
Even if she and Aang weren't exes, Zuko knew how frustrating it was to have a person follow you like a shadow and demand to be together again.
In comfort, she petted Zuko's hand and told him he did the right thing to end things with Mai.
If she couldn't accept a no was she a good girlfriend?
A little crooked smile formed on Zuko's lips, and her heart stopped for a second, as he thanked her for her words and friendships.
Then he asked her to join him in the search for his mother.
***
Being with Zuko on a life-changing field trip again was... exciting.
They still worked flawlessly together, like when they had hunted down the murder of her mother, but now they were friends.
It changed a lot of interactions.
They were playful with each other.
Zuko was the only one who ever laughed at her jokes.
They were there for each other.
In the long days when they hunted down one clue after another and Zuko seemed to lose hope, Katara reminded him to never give up.
They shared the workload.
It was amazing not mothering someone and having someone help her around camp.
They were getting closer to each other.
They shared things they never told anyone.
Zuko told her how he got his scar and Katara hugged him, wishing Aang had killed Ozai.
Wishing Ozai was before her and making him pay for hurting her best friend!
Sometimes they just stared at the stars, inventing constellations, their hands inching closer.
Something new was born between them.
Katara didn't know what it was, but she would enjoy it.
It made her feel good.
After weeks on the road, they finally found Ursa.
And also a society of hiding airbenders.
Katara couldn't help but laugh in utter glee.
***
Was it really that surprising that Katara and Zuko fell in love with each other after their journey?
When she kissed Zuko for the first time, it was like coming home.
Warm, welcome, familair, intim.
It was the best sensation in the world.
Something inside her told her this was how it was supposed to be.
After two years of dating and being the ambassador of the Southern Water Tribe in the Fire Nation, they married.
All their friends and half of the world were invited.
Yes, even Aang.
Aang was so grateful to Katara and Zuko for having found his people and was busy with the air nomads to rebuild their society, and seemed to finally let go of Katara.
Now they really could be friends.
***
Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, master bender, war hero and Fire Lady became a living legend.
Not only the people in the Fire Nation adored her, but she used the power she wielded to make the whole world a better place.
She was the one who came up with the idea of Republic City, a place where all nations could live in harmony.
She revolutionized the art of healing with her bloodbending.
She installed fountains and aqueducts everywhere she could, so people had clean water.
Statues were built and universities, streets even neighbourhoods were named in her honour.
Katara taught new generations of waterbenders like her daughter Kya and people formally fought over to learn from the Fire Lady.
When their oldest daughter Izumi became Fire Lady, Katara and Zuko retired to Ember Island to live out their twilight years in peace.
They often had visits from their friends and families.
Their son Lu Ten, a nonbender, had married a waterbender named Mizuki and had with her five children.
So the proud grandparents helped their son and daughter-in-law raise the rascals.
It was fulfilling.
As Aang then died and was reborn as Korra from the Southern Water Tribe Katara and Zuko moved to the South to teach the new Avatar.
Korra loved Katara and Zuko like grandparents and loved hearing about their adventures.
After Korra goes to Republic City to learn airbending from one of Aang's sons he had with one of the hiding airbenders, the pair returns to Ember Island.
Zuko died a few months before her.
Katara followed him after the birth of their third great-grandchild.
Both died surrounded by their big and bustling family.
As Katara died, her oldest great-granddaughter, who was named after her held her hand, she couldn't help but feel happy.
She had lived a long and wonderful life.
Soon she would be together again with her beloved husband and her family.
And so the greatest and most beloved Fire Lady died in peace with no regrets in her heart, her story being told for thousands of years to come.
***
The Legend of Katara became a tale which young girls loved.
From a simple waterbender to a master, war hero and ruler over a nation, who changed the world only a few ever could.
It showed all girls, that they could do anything they wanted.
They could reach their goals and go even beyond.
This was Katara's legacy.
As it should have been.
If you liked this one-shot and want more Zutara, a badass OC, personal growth for Aang and the Gaang being amazing check out Yin and Yang!
Click on my profile and leave a comment.
I hope you liked this little One-Shot!
Let’s now scream together in the comment section how Katara deserved better and if it’s not canon we will give it to her in fanon! :D
#katara#atla katara#avatar the last airbender#atla#zuko#atla zuko#prince zuko#atla zutara#zutara#zutarian#katara deserved better#zuko x katara#katara x zuko#zutara fanfiction#zutara fic#zutara forever#anti bryke#anti kataang#anti maiko#bryke critical
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Hiya, Ollie! Hope you're doing good whenever ya read this. And if you're not, I have a fluffy request for you:
For the Brothers and dateables, where would they take someone for their first date, what would they do, and how would the day/night end?
Sending you hugs and cuddles, friend! Have a great day/night! ♡
Authors note: Hi I know you’ve requested this in September and I haven’t been writing in FOREVER, but I’m so happy I am finally feeling up for it again! Enjoy!! I’ll just start with the brothers first, if people still think I write decently after all these months I’ll write the letter rest! Also 700+ followers WOW I love y’all.
Lucifer💙
He likes his everything dates very organised. He plans everything out to a tea, he knows he will win you over, but it takes time if he wants you to love him exactly in the way he already fell for you. I think he would take you to a museum, then to a restaurant he somehow knew you wanted to try the food from. Making a reservation to guarantee the best table. He will subtly compliment you throughout the whole day. As a subtle way to tell you he is having a great time. At the end he will walk you to your room and bid you goodnight. His lips touching your knuckles as he kissed your hand. He is the eldest brother, but that doesn’t hold him back from thinking about you all night after the date ended.
Mammon💛
He will NEVER admit he was nervous even asking you out, but you knew. He likes to be flexible on his dates. Really going with the flow while subtly showing off how much he likes you. I’m mostly thinking of him taking you out to go shopping together, while he secretly takes pictures for the things you find ‘to expensive’ so he could buy you them later when he will make sure his debt declines. Then if you’re that kinda person going dancing together! Either way I think you two will both end up a little tipsy at the end, Mammon accidentally giving you a kiss on the cheek as he drops you off. Remembering when he finally fully sobered up in the dead of night. He would text you about it the next morning, preying you didn’t mind and maybe would want him to give one on the lips next time.
Leviathan🧡
I’d like to think he asked to hangout in his room and if you ask if it is a date, he would throw his phone the moment he replied with: “If you’d be okay with it!”. Safe to say he is scared shitless at just the thought. He preys Asmo will help him with the fact he is sweating buckets. It will most likely be a date in his room, watching a movie or playing a video game with him you expressed interest in. He can’t even enjoy the movie or video game most of the time, because he is constantly worrying if you’re enjoying yourself or not. I think he could finally calm down the moment he would see you smile while eating the take-out you and him ordered. If you ever suggest feeding him some of your food he will be flustered and nod. Avoiding eye contact as you feed him. When the date ends he tries not to be sad you’re leaving already.
Satan💚
He finds your comfort the most important thing at all times. He is extremely considerate, who said chivalry is dead? Because then he would be dead. He is still a little nervous, but that’s because you’re so attractive to him. The date will most likely be to a book store where the two of you would pick a book for each other to read. I think then he would take you to a cat cafe. Him paying all of it with a smile. Just don’t give the cats all your attention, because he wil get a little jealous. I think he would ask to hold your hand on the later part of the date, giving you his jacket as you two walk beside a river on the way home.
Asmodeus🩷
He is over the moon. He will must look his best because he wants you to be entranced by him every second that he is with you. From the outfit, the perfume, the make up and the hair. Everything is top notch. When he sees you, in his mind you couldn’t look better. It doesn’t matter if you choose something more simple to wear and he definitely lets you know how he feels. Our sweet Asmo is most likely taking you to shop together then a self care spa at the end. He is quite touchy the whole time if you don’t mind that of course. Holding onto your arm, complimenting you, he might as well yell to the whole world he is madly in love with you. He might take you to his room by the end if you’re comfortable with it.
Beelzebub❤️
He wil be smiling throughout it all. When you would meet up at the spot he would have his usual blank face, the moment he would see you his sweet smile would appear. His bouquet of sunflowers in his slightly happy and nervous shaking hands as he gave it to you. I think you and him would do a workout class or go to a sports game together. He really pays attention to the things you like and talk about as you two talk in between breaks. Taking you to eat your favourite foods at the end and sharing desserts.
Belphegor💜
This sneaky little cow is most likely showing you the stars constellations in the planetarium on your first date. Little picknick blanket laid out as he would explain all your questions about the stars. Having lavender and chamomile tea and biscuits beside the two of you. The conversation eventually deepening to the thoughts in your heads to the memories the both of you have collected over the years. Belphie eventually placing his beloved cow pillow under your heads as the sleepiness slowly overpowers any nerves you might have had. Holding your hand as the two of you drift to sleep under the starry night above.
#obey me x reader#obey me belphegor x reader#obey me shall we date#obey me x mc#obey me leviathan#obey me belphegor#obey me#obey me x gender neutral reader#obey me lucifer#obey me!#obey me lucifer x mc#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me mammon#obey me mammon x mc#obey me mammon x reader#obey me leviathan x mc#obey me leviathan x reader#obey me satan#obey me satan x reader#obey me asmodeus#obey me asmo x reader#obey me asmo x mc#obey me beelzebub x reader#obey me beelzebub#obey me beel x reader#obey me beelzebub x mc#obey me belphie#obey me belphagor x reader#obey me beel x mc
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I know this is gonna be mushy and overly emotional and I'm sorry for oversharing a bit, but I feel like it's necessary to put into words what rewatching We're All Doomed means to me personally. I watched the kiswe premiere event live and it was one of the most fun nights I've had in a while, even though my life felt extremely hopeless at the time.
And, look, here's the thing: when the WAD premiere dropped, I had completely given up on improving things. In fact, I was very much in the 'doomed' mentality. I had long accepted that there was no way my life would get better. So Dan's message really resonated with me: it's easy to settle for being at rock bottom and thinking that's all there is for me. I was happy to see Dan doing better, but deep down I didn't truly believe his words either, not really. I did want to, but I wasn't quite there. And I don't believe them all the time, as he himself said he doesn't, and doing the show many times hammers the point home into his head.
After experiencing it, I thought maybe, just maybe, I could stop only embracing the void, but start having the courage to exist as well. Putting myself out there more, trying to make a world for myself in which I'm not the :/ emoji all the time. So I applied for the jobs, I wrote what I wanted, I unapologetically embraced the nerdy things and the fandoms I enjoyed. I decided I can choose happiness in the smallest of ways, even when it sounds silly and unimportant. Because it isn't unimportant really if it means something to me.
Rewatching the show last night showed me how much it changed my life and the big leaps it helped me take in life. I have so much more to learn, but I keep telling myself to be brave (lmao sorry had to sneak the Phil reference) and have the courage to exist. Really truly exist out in the world, not hidden inside my room. And sure, some days are harder than the others, some days I really don't like myself at all. Even in those days, though, I tell myself: all I have to do is have the courage to exist.
I went in to watch WAD with no expectations, and I feel like the message of appreciating the little moments was so monumental, it truly absolutely had a huge impact in my own life. I have a job now, and some financial stability. To be honest, I never thought I'd get this job, I might not even have applied if I wasn't in this mindset. In so many ways, Dan and Phil have profoundly changed my life, and I think WAD is just one of those big examples.
I doubt the real humans Dan and Phil will ever understand the impact they've had on this world, but I'll forever wish them the best. I'll always support them, because their creations have irrevocably changed me as a person, and as much as I like joking around and stuff, I'm just thankful that we share this existence, and we get to have fun and be forever changed by it.
Thanks @danielhowell, you'll never know how huge the impact of this show was, but I am truly crying writing this and I hope one day I get to tell you in person how much you inspired me to keep going when no one else would.
#obligatory come to Brazil comment so I can meet you Dan#daniel howell#danisnotonfire#(lmao soz)#Dan Howell#We're all doomed#WAD#amazingphil#Phil Lester#Dan and Phil#phan#dnp#sheesh I'm crying now help ahaha#amanda yaps#personal
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Inspired by this pic made by @infernally_fond
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When the devil asks if you want to play, you’re supposed to say no. It’s a lesson most people learn as children. Some don’t take it to heart. They say yes instead because the devil promises he will give them something they desperately want in return.
Tav says yes because she fancies him.
That’s alright. They aren’t playing a game of life or death, and her soul isn’t on the line; just her dignity, and she never had much of that to begin with. Only an idiot would agree to a game they don’t understand. Tav isn’t stupid (honest!) but Raphael’s easy smile and request for her company – mostly the smile, it’s a dangerous weapon put it away damn you – chased off all her answers that weren’t ‘yes, of course, I’d love to play Lanceboard with you!’ So now she sits in his room at Sharess’ Caress watching him watch her across the table as she bumbles and bullshits her moves, losing pieces and losing her mind, because she knows he knows she has no idea what she’s doing but he hasn’t said a damn word about it.
He chooses a piece. She watches his long, deft fingers carefully position it on the board. Lucky thing. “Your move,” he says, languid. Everything about him is relaxed, even his posture. He’s resting his cheek on his fist, elbow on the table. Awful manners; must’ve been raised in a barn. His dark eyes glint in a way that makes it obvious he’s enjoying her squirming, her buffoonery. His expression is cooking her from the inside: not-quite-placid, could be conceived as bored if not for the subtle smoulder, a quirk of mildly sadistic amusement. If he keeps staring at her like that, she fears she might do something foolish.
She blindly grabs her piece. She doesn’t know which it is; knows it’s hers from the colour and that’s about it. Smacks it onto a square that’s (probably) alright. Nods, leans back in her chair, pretends to be confident with her approach, her strategy. “There. Your turn.”
Raphael blinks lazily at her. At the board. “Inspired. Truly,” he drawls, making his next move. “By madness, but nonetheless.”
Tav purses her lips. She doesn’t miss the way his gaze flickers to them. “What is madness but a denial of reality? That’s what you said before, right?”
His mouth twists with a lopsided, barely-there smirk. He surely doesn’t miss her glances, either. “Indeed I did. And what reality are you denying at this moment, little mouse?”
Knowing how to play this bloody game, she thinks, wishing he’d challenged her to checkers instead. “Letting you win,” she responds. Round peg, square hole – put her piece here, steal the piece she jealously witnessed him fondle, strangle it in her fist for its crime. He chuckles; rich, deep, raspy.
“A daring manoeuvrer, and highly illegal.” Yet he does nothing to rectify her blatant ignorance. (Actually, devil, what’s illegal is that chuckle). He simply makes his next move. “You know, it’s usually customary for one to be aware of the stakes of a game before they play it.”
And this, Tav thinks in resignation, is why he’s let me trample all over the match like a drunken elephant. She never learns. Somewhere, Wyll is shaking his head in disappointment.
“You didn't tell me there were stakes,” she accuses; considers pouting but doubts that would work on this crafty creature. “I thought we were just playing for fun.”
“And we are, my dear friend,” Raphael coos, terribly entertained (bastard). “What’s more fun than the thrill of a daring wager?”
“The security of knowing I’m not going to lose my soul?”
Raphael’s grin stretches; sharpens. “Oh, but I thought you were going to beat me. Where has your confidence gone, all of a sudden?”
He’s wretched. Vile. Despicable. Tav is so attracted to him it’s ludicrous. “I’ll win,” she snaps, “and then maybe I’ll take your soul instead. I’ll put it in a little jar and keep it with my other shiny baubles and all the things Scratch dug up. How’s that for a wager?”
“Riveting. Inexperienced, as far as eternal torment goes, but it’s a start,” the devil praises, pleased when Tav scowls at him. “Though, as delectable as your soul would be, it isn’t quite what I had in mind.”
“What, then?”
“Hmm…” He makes a show of drumming his fingers on the table in thought. Large, lithe, well-groomed; she likes his hands. Often wonders what other kinds of magic they can do. (Look away, Tav! This is serious!) “How about, if I win, you tell me exactly why you agreed to this game. Why you abandoned the safety of your companions and entered my den alone. Why you were so eager to say yes. And don’t think about lying, little mouse. I’ll know if you do.”
Well, shit. Letting him eat her soul didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore. One does not simply inform a devil that they like him – especially not this devil. He will use that knowledge, that power, for naught but nefarious purposes, manipulating her much more than he already does. The worst part is, Tav knows she’ll enjoy it. You’re well and truly fucked, mate, as Karlach would say.
Stomach in her shoes, Tav plucks up all the courage and stupidity she has left. “And if I win? What do I get?”
“That’s up to you,” Raphael says. He clearly thinks he has the upper hand. He’s right, but damn him anyway.
Fine, then. In for a penny and all that. “If I win, I want a kiss.”
She’s surprised him, she can tell. She’s surprised herself, scarcely believing she actually said that, but it’s out there now, in the open, lingering like a bad stink. She’s basically already given him the answer he wanted, but Tav isn’t under the illusion he didn’t know beforehand. The power, you see, comes from getting her to admit it aloud.
“A…kiss,” he repeats slowly.
“Yes.” She sticks to her guns despite her racing heart, sweaty palms, impending sense of doom. “From you, obviously.”
He considers it for a long moment, statuesque, giving almost nothing away. Tav does her best not to squirm out of her seat, pretends to be as aloof and unaffected as he is, to questionable success. The satisfaction glittering in Raphael’s dark eyes makes her grind her teeth. He’s toying with his food, as he is wont to do. Stretching out this moment until she’s at her most uncomfortable. Pulling her nerves taut. The split second before they break, he responds.
“Acceptable. Shall we continue, then?”
“Let’s.”
Tav expects a massacre. Tries to mentally prepare for him to pull the rug from beneath her feet, decimate her pathetic attempts, and then string her up by her metaphorical toes and bleed her for every pathetic confession and admission she can give while he gorges on her emotional turmoil (and masochistic delight). That isn’t what happens. Instead, she wins – in about as loose as the term can be used, but still.
“My, my!” Raphael exclaims, faking every bit of awe as he beholds the board, the claiming of his king, the crumbling of his miniature marble empire. “It seems my devilish wits weren’t enough to stop the might of the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. I’ve been bested. A villain, defeated. Quite the fitting end for this little tale. Don’t you agree?”
Tav sits in stunned silence. Of course he let her do this. She’s not completely delusional (yet), but the implications for why are taking their sweet time sinking into her holey grey matter.
“Ah, but I suppose the Hero wants what she’s owed,” the devil continues, sweeping his arms in a grand gesture. “Let it never be said that I am not a man of my word. Come then, Tav. Claim your prize.”
For a moment, Tav doesn’t move. In some ways this is worse than if he won. Raphael waits, a smirk teasing its way onto his face. He’s challenging her. Daring her. Come into my lair, said the spider to the fly. She’s already here, and she might be stupid, but she’s not a coward. Her knees only tremble slightly as she stands, makes her way to him.
He gets up, too.
He’s not much taller than her, but Tav feels like she’s approaching a mountain. The coals that have been simmering in her belly all evening catch flame. This close, the smell of him is overwhelming: cherries, smoke, fire. The heat he gives off can’t be anything but Infernal, despite his human guise. Anticipation sets her jaw, her throat dry. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking as he slowly, slowly, leans forward, dark eyes fixed on her mouth. His breath is hot as it fans across her face. Tav’s lips part unconsciously, eyelids closing. He’s but a whisper away, the silk of his sinful mouth a phantom against her own…
He kisses her cheek. The left one, high on her cheek bone, and though he’s completely composed, she can hear the brief huff of amusement leave his nose as he pulls away.
“There you are,” he says, jovial, almost business-like as she gapes at him, humiliated, flabbergasted, furious. “One kiss, its nature wholly unspecified, delivered as promised. I always deal fairly.”
This fucker’s trying not to laugh. Tav can see the tell-tale twitch of his lips (lips whose imprint burns on her cheek, entirely not where she wanted thank you very much) and the gleam of delight in his eye. Oh yes, he’s had fun with her today.
“Is something wrong?” He asks her innocently when she does nothing but glare at him.
“No,” she grits out.
“Good,” he purrs, unable to stop the shit-eating grin from spreading across his face. “I’d hate to hear that you’re dissatisfied with your victory. I did my very best to acquiesce. As a little advice for the future, from one thrill-seeker to another: you might try being more specific with the terms of your wagers. After all, what’s that saying you mortals are so fond of? Ah, yes. The devil’s in the details. Keep that in mind for next time, hm? Ta-ta.”
A click of his fingers, a spark of hellish magic, and she’s standing in the middle of their rooms at the Elfsong tavern.
“Arsehole!”
From where he’s lounging on a sofa, Astarion lowers the book he’s reading enough to raise an eyebrow at Tav. “Who’s the arsehole, darling, and what have they done?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tav mutters. “Where’s Gale? I need to learn how to play lanceboard.”
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Otome Game ~ *Idia Shroud*
Summary: It was Idia's idea to game with you. But when you ask him for help with your otome game, he can't help but notice some similarities between him and your favorite character...
Pairing: Idia Shroud X Fem!Reader
Genre: Fluffy Oneshot
Word Count: 1004
Warning: Otome gaming
Masterlist
Taglist: @savanaclaw1996 @goseew
It was Idia's idea to game with you, although he only asked because you mentioned that you had a new game that you haven't gotten around to playing yet. You were sure he had ulterior motives when he asked you to hang out, but you didn't bring it up with him as you didn't want to scare him off. Instead, you simply grabbed your game and met him at his dorm.
Ortho was more than excited to see you. You always held a special affection to Idia's little brother that didn't go unnoticed by both parties. On more than one occasion when you weren't around, Ortho would beg his brother to finally ask you out. But Idia was far too terrified to approach you with a romantic relationship. So he simply settled for a friendship that he would never ever, ever, EVER take advantage of.
Idia made sure to clean his room before you arrived and you were pleasantly surprised. Whenever you crashed the Board Game Club meetings, Azul would go on and on about how filthy his room was. Still, you didn't point it out to him. You didn't want to make him feel any more self-conscious than he already was.
After exchanging some casual pleasantries, the two of you fell into your gaming. It was calm and relaxing. You found yourself enjoying your time with the dorm leader of Ignihyde more than you anticipated. He was considerate about your own gaming experience and kept his reactions to his game quiet. Every so often you would look up and watch what he was doing, asking questions when you felt it was appropriate. He answered all of your questions with ease and even reciprocated by asking questions about your game. All and all, it was the perfect afternoon with one of your favorite people.
Then you hit a rough patch in your game. Your sigh of frustration alerted Idia, who knew exactly what it meant: you needed help. Now, Idia doesn't like to boast about his exceptional skills when it comes to video games, but surely he could appear like your knight in shining armor and lend you a hand?
"What's wrong?" He softly asks, his gaze still trained on the game he was playing.
"I'm stuck. I don't know which boyfriend to choose." You mumble, flicking through the different options in your otome game.
Idia thought it was a good thing you weren't paying attention to him as his hair flickered pink for a brief moment. He fumbled with his control to pause his game before finally addressing your issue.
"What, what do you mean?"
You showed him the screen of your game console. "So my new game is an otome game. I have seven boys to choose from. I just completed the intro and now I have to pick one, but I don't know who to choose."
He frowned and looked at your options. "Why don't you just pick one that you like and then do the other routes later."
"That's the problem. You can only choose once. If I want to complete the other routes, I have to buy another game. It's a major capitalism scheme, but I thought the game looked fun." You shrug. "Any idea who I should choose?"
"Uh... why don't you tell me about them and then I'll help you decide."
You nod with a smile that makes the tips of his hair turn pink again. "Okay in order here you have: Ryushi, the strict student body president who just needs someone to soften his edges, Ietsuna, the lazy slacker who only cares about you, Amane, the bad boy who likes to tease and torment, Kobo, the golden retriever who is the fan favorite, Michinori, the cultured exchange student who is a little fruity in my opinion, Masanobu, the secret prince of the school who would do anything for you, and Ichibei, the otaku with a heart of gold."
"Wow." He's surprised with how typical the choices are like every other otome game. He would normally say pick the one you're most interested in as they're pretty average, but considering you can only make one choice, you have to be careful. "I guess I'd have to say the choice is up to you."
You give him a pout. "You're really going to make me make such a tough decision all on my own? You're so mean, Idia!"
He panics at your words, not meaning to make you upset with him. "Well I mean it's your game! You should pick the boy you feel is the most special to you! I can't really help you make that decision."
"I suppose you're right..."
"Who do you feel is special?"
You shrug and glance back at your choices. "Well, I first thought about Masanobu because who wouldn't want to be a princess? But I felt he was trying too hard in the prologue to try and gain your favor. So I went through the options again and I'm stuck on two: Amane and Ichibei."
He tried to not let you know how surprised and flustered he was. "Oh?"
You nod. "I mean, I'm so like other girls when I say I love a bad boy, but Ichibei... he seemed so sweet and shy. I couldn't help but be drawn to him. I think he might be my favorite."
Your explanation was not helping the poor boy's rapidly beating heart. Based on your little description about him, Idia couldn't help but see similarities between him and Ichibei. Was this your subtle way of saying he was your favorite too? Was it too much to hope that that was true?
"I think you should go with your favorite."
You beamed at his words and his heart skipped several beats. "I think you're absolutely correct! Thank you Idia!"
"You're welcome." He mumbled and tried to return to his game. But he was distracted. Your words and your choice hit him harder than he anticipated. Perhaps Ortho was right. He should ask you out…
#Twisted Wonderland#Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction#Twisted Wonderland Oneshot#Anime#Anime Fanfiction#Anime Oneshot#Ignihyde#Idia Shroud#Idia Shroud X Reader#Idia Shroud Fanfiction#Idia Shroud Oneshot#Idia Shroud Fluff#Idia#Idia X Reader#Idia Fanfiction#Idia Oneshot#Idia Fluff#Gamer#Gamer AU#Oneshot#Fluff
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okay, just gonna say this now before i start this post: i have absolutely no problems with alternate universes, go ham with them, go wild, you can have fun, etcetc, they're called alternate universes for a reason, after all
however. HOWEVER.
i have a problem when people say something should have happened in canon, when canon itself disproves or goes against whatever these people want
the reason why im bringing this up?
the whole thing with how some people keep saying mirabel should have [insert the usual things people say here, hate, slap, punch, left, get revenge, etc, take your pick, there's unfortunately a lot to choose from] the family. in the canon movie.
again, i have no problem with alternate universes and seeing them in fanfics or whatever, you do you, could be interesting to see even
but when you start saying this should have happened in canon, its just. no. no.
god, it just frustrates me so much whenever i see these posts and comments, the ones that said she should have gone evil or villain or hate the family and all that stuff
because mirabel herself loves her family. she literally said it outright in the movie!!! its not in her personality and character to just go against them and hate them and want revenge. there will be hurt and hesitance and some resentment after everything she'd gone through, yes, but outright hate to the point where she'll hurt them?? absolutely not.
not with her character, her love and empathy and understanding, the traits we see her show in the movie.
like my friend once said: mirabel "he loved this family. i love this family. we all love this family" would NEVER hurt her family
say it louder for the people at the back!!
and thats not all i want to rant about tbh...the real kicker on this one?
whenever this statement is added on top of it all: "if i were mirabel—"
well, news flash people who keep saying these things, mirabel isnt you. mirabel is her own character who has her own experiences and her own feelings. maybe you'll be able to relate to her, especially with similar experiences, but that doesn't mean you can just copy and paste your own feelings onto her and say this is what she should have done in canon because thats what i would have done!!
we all project onto our favorite characters in various ways, which is completely fine, go at it and definitely not surprising for a story about family issues, but when you start to project so much that you throw away the character's actual personality and characterization in favor of said projection? yeah...no.
thats not mirabel madrigal anymore, that's a completely new character...or dare i say, a self-insert for some people... 💀:////
yeah, im just so frustrated with this AAAAAAA 😭
but anyway yes.
thats it, really. again, AUs are absolutely fine but if someone starts yapping about how canon should have [insert whatever those people keep saying here] instead while disregarding actual canon and proper characters and personalities, im going to become violent
anywho...thats my thoughts on this, went on a bit of a tangent but
yeah
anyway bye—
#encanto#mirabel madrigal#kept going through some comments and posts in the past and i felt violent#and decided to rant#uhhhh hope this makes sense#and that im not being insane or something#but yeah#whoop—#overthinking and doubting again but#i will prevail aaaaaaaaaaaaa#but anyway yes#this is all for the people who had comments on how “canon should have ended like this!!!”#im so done with them pls
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take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 6: beginning
ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev
chapter synopsis:
'“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be shy and scatterbrained, or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen, when in reality it’s just what I want to happen. But this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.”
You haven’t told her you love her too in years.'
'And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.”
“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.”
“You love him a lot,” Megumi says.
---
You and Megumi set out to prevent an emergency involving Yuuji and a cursed object. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen. But at least everyone is fine in the end, even if it means you'll have to walk away from almost everything (or maybe it's the other way around).
You're going to be all on your own. Still, now it seems like this will hurt less now.
word count: ~8k; tws: none for now :)
17-6-2018
The two of you walk down the lane. It’s midnight. There’s a loitering silence in the air, no words exchanged between you and him, and it twists your heart in brief moments of hurt when you’re not trying to keep your mind occupied with other things. Your legs move subconsciously without you caring to think of them, the route to the hospital ingrained in your mind as if intrinsically there.
At some point, you think your hand with its sweat and its grip is going to leave imprints like a marring on his skin, but it’s of your own selfishness that you choose to hold onto his wrist anyway.
There’s a million things you could say to him right now, things you’ll forcefully push to the very back of your throat, things you’ll keep under lock and key in a mangled mix of quiet anticipation and sombre anxieties. Right now you’re holding his wrist and that’s enough for you, to have him walking behind you if not beside, to be two people near each other— not together— in silence since any conversation is not an option; any conversation could lead to the last spark needed to be fanned into the flame for it to erupt bigger and brighter than ever before.
If you asked about Tsumiki right now, or why either of them never bothered to speak to you since 2016, it could break you apart, of that you’re sure. And even without words it threatens to do so to you like a chandelier of melting wax candles hanging above you being suspended precariously from the ceiling or light lightning soon to be thrown down mercilessly from the sky.
“The turning to Sendai Hospital is on the right.”
“I know the routes better,” you let out, and rather disappointingly it sounds brasher and more derogatory aloud instead of the unobtrusive tone you were aiming for— you hope it doesn’t hurt him but then wonder why you still even cared that much about how he felt about what you said or did anyway, “I got myself accustomed to taking the one on the left that leads you through. Quick shortcut and all.”
You’re not looking back, but the light pull of his hand from the hold of your wrist seems to suggest his slight reeling back in a small sense of surprise and an equal amount of shock, as if suddenly remembering the fact you were your own person, that you had your own autonomy as one, because somehow everyone thought you weren’t.
It’s strange to look back at how you were before: meek, timid. Too shy to speak up. Too innocent to be angered by anything. Always dreaming, mind bleary as if on a cloud in blurred skies, hiding behind the backs of others like a petrified forest critter.
And now you’re this— this person who frowns and disagrees and retorts at every little thing, and as much as you have to, as much as it was nearly inevitable the way you turned out, all you can think you share with the person you were when you first met Megumi and Tsumiki was your need to be useful— and even that has been exacerbated by how you’ve grown, how you’ve become this person you grew into. And a part of you— no, just you as a whole— doesn’t like yourself at all.
Your father was right. That little girl was hopeful, obedient, kind, caring— you don’t know why even then you were dissatisfied with the way you were, or why your dissatisfaction would matter because at that time you’d cared so little about everything besides caring for people and having fun with the pair of siblings that you were so rarely bothered by it, that it was still just a slight whisper from the back of your head that could be shushed or tuned out with library visits and nights in front of the TV and the glow of old cartoons. Your father was right and this is proved even more by the fact that the whole situation just infuriates you on the surface, and just makes you feel like an empty, hollow shell left behind when you reach deeper into yourself.
That little girl had potential, potential to be useful but kind, obedient and close to the people who raised her even if it meant abandoning her own ideals. But you’d been so devoted to them, you think, that she was killed and destroyed in the world she grew up in, and now there’s a space for her that’s left vacant due to the way she wasted away. You miss her, the girl you once were, you miss being her, how easy and lighthearted everything was and how all of you felt so content in every sense of the word. But you don’t want her back. Now that’s just what makes you miserable sometimes.
Self-reflection just made you feel revolted by yourself. You keep your eyes on the road.
“It’s here,” you state, pointing at the building in front of you.
Sendai General Hospital is an institution made out of bare concrete. Its walls are yellowed and close in on its wards like a prison, coloured using old paint that hasn’t been repainted over and is as pallid-looking as the skin of the people sitting on the beds it is inhabited by. Just being in it feels like a hit to the body and the brain and the senses, too. There are old-fashioned tiles on its floors, their pale beige hue muted yet the blinding shine on them harshly mopped clean. Inside it reeks of an imminent presence of sickness or death or illnesses and conditions never to be able to be defeated and sterile sanitisers. Looking at the latex-blue curtains in it feels like a blindfold unwantedly, forcefully pulled over both your vision and your ears.
“You and that Itadori seem close.”
“We are,” you say, then you add, not really knowing why, “He’s my best friend.” Maybe you’re trying to make him jealous, rile him up a bit. But even then you wouldn’t want him to be riled up, nor would you be satisfied if he were to keep silent. Maybe you just wanted to hurt him, to hurt him back or something, if only for something small, even if you’d already resolved not to do so.
You’ll make sure not to do that again, though.
Instead he does something else, takes another route instead. “Then it seems you visit his grandfather often.”
“Uh-huh,” you nod as the two of you enter the hospital, and you have to blink a few times as always in order to adjust yourself to the light and how it reflects off the detachedly clean floor. “My mother’s here, too.”
“Oh, I’m sorry— is she alright?”
“She’s okay, I… think. She… she got sick a while back and stays here now,” you explain, “Let’s not talk about that…—I mean, I… don’t really want to.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to keep saying that.” It just makes people feel worse.
He doesn’t push further and you suppose that’s okay. Your chest hurts a bit, like phantom pain on a wound that’s still there. There’s not really a way to explain it but almost everything makes you feel that way these days. Everything makes you feel horrible to some degree. Maybe it’s being a girl, maybe it’s being a teenager, but it’s not quite either, you guess.
“He won’t be here for a while,” you say, “He’s either still in the room where his grandfather is or he’s buying flowers for him.”
“Then I’ll just contact them and let them know the whole situation first.”
Who’s ‘them’?
“Okay.” You turn your back on him, “—wait.”
“What?”
“Do you have any emergency contact or something? Like, a trusted adult who could help you with any of this? In case things go really bad?”
“...why would you need one?” he questions.
You roll your eyes, “Just give it to me, damn it… if there’s anything I have nowadays, it’s probably foresight for stuff like this. For emergencies.”
He gives you the number, albeit a bit begrudgingly. Why’d he have to be so pissy about anything and everything?
“Okay, thanks. I’m going to visit my mother now.”
The air and the colour from it seems distant as always, the ward she was basically imprisoned in smelling of the indistinguishable mix of sanitiser and sickness. There her body chains her to her bed, and there is little she can do besides rely on and weakly cling to the nurses who assist her, a frail shadow of what she once was.
“Hi, Mummy.”
She turns to you, and your chest constricts. Her hair, once much longer, the type that you dreamed to have as it billowed in the wind, the type that invited you caressively to bury yourself in and take in that heady scent of roses that emanated from it— that hair is now replaced with a cloth wrapped around her head. Radiation. Chemotherapy.
The wrinkles on her face make the difference between her now and her years ago all the more stark. Every visit you come back here, you’ve forced yourself to be acclimated to this new reality, one where she isn’t waiting at home no matter how tedious the fights get or how exhausting it was eating with someone who remained silent, someone who chose to continue suffering if it meant she could hurt and turn her daughter to guilt (as if that would change anything). At least she was there.
Cancer is a terminal illness, especially the type your mother is facing— regardless of how much chemotherapy she would struggle through and how much you didn’t want to acknowledge a truth so plain and conspicuously bare, she would be confined to this bed until her final days, her illness like gyves tying her limbs and forcing her earthbound; the bed a cage she could never be liberated from.
Sometimes she made it a point to you that she didn’t want to liberate herself from it anyway, and you’d never been so depressed yet irked by anything else. (You’d regret everything— not spending time with her, not appreciating her nearly enough— except for your decision to be involved in the Jujutsu world, if not as a sorcerer then as a doctor. That was, and is— your ultimatum. Your end all be all of this whole situation.”
“Hello. Where’s that Itadori boy?”
“Not here today, he’s still with his grandfather— maybe later.” You swing your bag over your shoulder, rummaging through it a while before pulling it out. “I’ve something for you, by the way.”
“Oh! These,” she exclaims, and she smiles faintly, bits of colour rushing back to her face like watercolour dots on moistened paper. “I used to make them for you, sometimes. They used to be your favourite when you were really little.”
“I know,” you explain, “That’s why I made them. I don’t like them anymore, but… I can’t remember your favourite food or if I ever asked, and I know you don’t like the food they give you here as much as… I don’t know. Your own cooking, I guess.”
“It’s not my favourite,” she states, matter-of-factly, bluntly, “But thank you for the effort. My favourite will always be my own mother’s cooking.”
Silence.
“Now that I look back at everything, there are so many things I regret. Things I should have done but never did out of fear; things I should not have done and never apologised for out of pride. I’d like it if you could be different. Your grandmother went out the same way. At least, even if you had the same illnesses as we did, which I hope the genes for which have been curbed by your father’s— at least you would not leave the world with regret,” she looks down at her hands, staring down at them solemnly like a shadow, an excluded figure. “But it was a good life.”
“...then maybe you can tell me more. While you— while we still have time. What was your childhood like? What was your mother like?” It feels strange, imposturous, maybe— to be referring to someone basically a stranger as “grandmother”, to name someone so far away from you so intimate, even if the only generation between you, tying the two of you together, was your mother’s. If you had a daughter it would be the same for her, most likely. There’s a part of you that would find honour in becoming your mother once you’d grown, but there’s a part of you that would think being such would accost you horribly, for all time.
She sighs, “I’ll tell you later. There would be so much to say, like compressing all my words into one tiny paper. The stories have weight in them the same way letters and words in handwriting can be firm and large. But if I were to start,” she begins, “I’ll say that I was born as the daughter of two very powerful sorcerers. Now, I know how much this would sound like some nonsense spouted by your mother, but I think you should listen anyway.
“My parents loved each other a lot, but my mother had come from an obscure clan whose name I can’t remember, but who had high hopes in them having a child with a powerful cursed technique as their last resort, since, if I recall correctly, there had been a crisis within the clan for it to keep surviving.
“I still remember when they found out I had no cursed technique and how terrified they were. In me I had a bit more than the relatively normal amount of cursed energy most people have, and so I was expected to have techniques as powerful as they did. They loved me and treated me preciously, like a fragile object, so long as I was quiet and demure— and I guess to some extent I still was and still am today. They wondered what they could do to run from the clan, as if they didn’t have enough power when they were supposed to protect me despite my father’s bullheaded industry and my mother’s patience-formed strength. They lacked grit to grapple against them, and only in this did they lack it, I think; only against my mother’s family did they not have the ability to resolve things whether peacefully or violently. And eventually they just gave up and thought they would just… surrender me over when I entered my adolescent years. I was their daughter. I… suppose they didn’t love me enough. I know it sounds awful— thinking that they should have always protected me, through and through—”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“—when it could have been the clan itself that would have been mostly to blame.”
“But they were still supposed to protect you! They were your parents—”
“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be a shy and scatterbrained or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen when in reality it’s just what I want to happen, but this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.” You haven’t told her you love her too in years.
“But then when I was an adult I met your father, who was a bit like a country bumpkin, but a formidable sorcerer and a kind, honest person, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with the person he was both inside and out. And for the next few years we struggled to have a child until I found out I was pregnant with you,” she continues, “Even though by that time I was well into my late thirties, we were overjoyed and decided to keep you.”
Suddenly you wish there had been more time before things were ruined. Time for you to know her better, the beginning of your existence. You would have begged her for old photos, stories, mementos of her and your father.
“And now the clan’s faded into obscurity, finally. The younger members left and the older ones passed away peacefully. Happy story, right?”
“...yeah.” It all ended well, but you don’t know if you can say the same for your mother’s. At least, you hope, when she goes away, it can be swift and peaceful like the way her relatives did.
Then suddenly there’s a buzz in your pocket. An inconvenient one, out of the blue.
“You should go get that first,” she says.
“...okay.”
You lift it up to your face and feel like crushing the damn thing. Old number. Stupid number. Number you haven’t called in months because you’d given up on that bastard— oh. The two of you were working together now.
You turn away from your mother, creeping to the edge of the room. “What’s wrong?”
“I just talked to him, but I think it would be easier if you came back and was there with him too since you know him better than I do. And he… doesn’t seem like the brightest. He may think that it’s not important enough to hand over unless you ask him to or something.”
You muffle your voice with your hand and whisper, “Hey, you shut up, you know nothing about him. He’s way smarter than people give him credit for. But I’m— I’m with my mother right now. Wait for a second. Just ask him to wait for me first; he wouldn’t need any of my help for all of this yet. Make a friend or get a life or something.”
“...fine. But you’ll have to join us later. He’s bound to ask about you.”
“Then just tell him I’m with my mother!” you snap, still whispering.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Wh— you little— oh, don’t you hang up now—”
Weird thing is, he probably wasn’t even being so infuriating on purpose. And you wouldn’t have burst out at someone for being that way anyway. It was only because it was him, specifically.
You’d sworn to put that past you.
Your immaturity strikes once again.
“If you have to go now,” your mother says, “You should. Just come back again next time. I can tell you the rest. Thank you again for the food, [Name].” She doesn’t call you ‘darling’ anymore, doesn’t she? Just your name.
“Okay. Sorry.”
You swing the bag back over your shoulder, wearing it this time instead of taking it off, easing your way out of the room.
“It’s okay,” she assures you, “Goodbye. I love you.”
“...I love you, too,” you say, but it’ll mingle with all the other sounds in the hospital, and it’ll be drowned out like a ship in the middle of nowhere, your voice soft and thoroughly soused by the cacophony of bleak noises like telephone rings and beeps from electrocardiographs outside of her deafeningly quiet hospital room.
“Hi, Yuuji,” you greet them in the dimly lit waiting area, “...and Megumi. Sorry to keep the two of you guys waiting for so long.”
“Oh, hey; it’s okay!” he goes, although in his voice it seems that there’s been some of his usual energy seeping away from him. “Didn’t know the two of you knew each other until just now or that you were a part of some magic curse society. Are you guys childhood friends who met because of all that cursed stuff or something?”
“Something like that,” Megumi explains.
“It’s a long story,” you say, not exactly denying him nor conceding his words anyway. Once again, there’s a trace of anger despite your promise to be untethered to your puerility like this. “Anyway, are you okay, Yuuji? How’s your grandfather?”
He pauses. “Oh, about that… he just passed away.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Yuuji…” you hold the fabric of his jacket (sometimes it still feels wrong to try and hold his hand— it just makes your heart ache again like a scab being clawed at) and pull him into a brief caress, patting his back as gently as you can manage.
“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” he smiles as you pull yourself away, “Grandpa wouldn’t want me to be crying right now anyway. So don’t worry.”
“Okay, I won’t. But if you’re sad, just know you can always talk to me.”
He laughs, softer than the boisterous manner he usually does so in, “Yeah, I know.”
Megumi clears his throat, pointedly trying to make a sound, “Anyway. Itadori Yuuji—”
“Just call him Itadori. You don’t have to be so uptight.”
“Nah, [Name], I’m fine—”
Megumi sighs. “Anyway, we need you to give the cursed object now.”
“Oh, yeah, that,” you start, “So, Yuuji, do you have the thing that Megumi would have explained to you? The cursed object? We need it for everyone to be safe, and all.”
“Yeah! Hold on, let me get it. I told you I didn’t have it already, but here’s the box,” he says, tossing it over to Megumi.
He retrieves the box. It’s ancient and wooden, the craftsmanship behind it elite and adroit, and the paper on it has the words for a buddhist sutra written on it like an inscription. You’ve heard of it before, the kind of curse it was meant to seal, but it definitely couldn’t be—
He opens the box.
Holy shit.
“Where is it?”
“It’s empty…” Megumi panics, “Wait— hold on!”
Things are bad— as in, they couldn’t get any worse— not only was the school doomed by the loss of its cursed object, the cursed object was Sukuna Ryomen’s finger itself.
You blame your inadequacy, your inability to have stopped everything sooner— if not for that nobody would have gotten hurt. If not for that there wouldn’t even be a risk of anything happening anyway. You should’ve tried harder to sense it, and you should’ve focused more on it to keep the student body safe and sound.
It was your fault. No one else was to blame but your useless self, and even if that were wrong, you’d still have the most to be blamed for.
Megumi has a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder, keeping the other boy from moving, his breathing erratic and his eyes wide in frantic shock.
“...well, they were saying, ‘let’s open it up to see what’s inside it tonight’,” Yuuji clarifies, standing a few centimetres away from the door, “Why? Is that bad?”
Sasaki and Iguchi?
The air in the hospital feels particularly chilly tonight, gooseflesh terrorising your skin all over, and for all the kinds of reasons that would cause anything like such.
“It’s way worse than bad,” Megumi declared, fear and grim so thick in his voice they were tangible enough to be cut through with a knife. “Your friends are going to die.”
“We’ve got to go,” you rush, “Now! Quick!”
It passes by like a blur, as if you’re in that moment and out of it simultaneously. Your mind has been bombarded with and pressed so thoroughly onto the moment, like tissue on a wet surface, that it seems it’s being blanked out, while your legs continue to run despite your mind nearly forgetting, at this point, why you’re running— as if your legs moving so frantically to help them was something intrinsic, something you didn’t need your mind for.
Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger.
You didn’t know them all too well, really— just through Yuuji, and Yuuji himself wasn’t as close to the two of them, being their junior and all. And although a part of you was doing this just because you could, like the way you did when you first discovered your cursed technique, you knew that another was doing this for Yuuji. If in any way they were hurt or could not survive, he would blame himself to no end. He possessed such a kindness within him, so much that it hit the depths of your soul sometimes; shattered your heart so gently a million times over or heated it in the kindly way mothers heated pans on stoves despite the heat of it being greater than that of blue flame. If anything happened to them, no matter how much or how little he knew of them, he wouldn’t be able to live after that.
The two of them are near the barrier separating the school from the street before you (you struggle with catching up to them— one’s a star athlete and another has been training for much longer than you, you’re sure), the gates tall and enveloped in darkness. You didn’t think much of school except for when it came to your grades and being with Yuuji, thinking of these gates— the ones that you and Yuuji use when you’re running super late— in particular as just a shortcut entrance you paid little attention to, just something treated with indifference as you passed through them whenever you were late. Yet now they echoed denial, refusal, and slim chances— it was unlikely that they’d be alright, especially since this cursed object in particular was the finger of Sukuna Ryomen.
“Is that the building?” Megumi questions, “Where are they?”
“Fourth floor— guh!” Yuuji seems to come to an abrupt halt, nearly slamming into what seems to be an invisible wall. A veil.
“Yuuji!”
“I’ll handle this,” Megumi declares, hopping onto the metal wires, more directed to Yuuji than you. So even he can tell how selfless Yuuji is, even after only having just met him.
“I may not know those two that well, but—” Yuuji starts, “But they’re friends! I have to help!”
“You’re staying here,” Megumi commands, “[Name], if you could— get your father or any sorcerers you know to come here and help.”
He climbs over the gate.
He’s going away from you again. Slipping away from your grasp. And now, all you can do is watch. There’s nothing else— nothing else you can do, at all. If you went inside now, you wouldn’t be able to help except— what?— tend to their injuries? Manipulate your own cells into weapons? The former wasn’t possible with how much you’d strained yourself from running so quickly earlier, and the latter was too dangerous: you hadn’t even started with the basics of that yet, on your father’s obstinate insistence that even if he’d let you play doctor he wouldn’t let you manipulate any of the cells in your body into any kind of usable weapon. Any simple wrong move could make things turn south in the most drastically terrifying of ways. If you went in there, you’d just die, and there’d be more casualties, more trouble, more problems caused by you and you alone.
You can’t even call your father, either. That would always be your last resort— because even if you fought, you still needed him to rest. You didn’t want him overexerting himself by using his cursed technique at all.
(You were selfish. You didn’t want to lose your father. You didn’t want to have to visit not one but two parents lying sick and tired and grey in matching hospital beds.)
“Yuuji?” you start, turning to him. “You’re…deathly quiet. Are you okay?”
His lips quiver slightly, a faint whimpering noise coming out of him. Is he crying?
“Yuuji, look at me. Are you okay?” you ask, as gently and softly as you can right now, despite your ragged, unsteady, unathletic-addled breaths. You place a hand on his shoulder, slowly rubbing up and down from his shoulder and crook of his neck to his back. “It’s okay. …Megumi’s a good and… capable, strong person and jujutsu sorcerer. He’ll be okay, and they’ll be okay too. Just… just put your trust in him, okay?”
“I’m sorry, [Name], but I’ve got to go,” he tells you, “You stay here, and call for help or something. I’m sorry, but I’ve just really got to do it!”
He hugs you, quickly, deftly. And then he crosses the gate, leaving you all alone like Megumi did. You wish he’d hug you longer, that you could take care of him for a little longer— it was your last way to be useful now.
Still, there’s someone you could call, now that you remember him.
The emergency contact.
You snatch your phone out, resolute.
“Hello! Gojo Satoru speaking,” the voice on the other line says.
You’ve heard it plenty before by accident.
When Gojo and Megumi are back, Yuuji’s in the form of a figure slung over Gojo’s shoulders like he’s been reply entrenched into slumber, his body seemingly limp and his torso completely bare. There’s barely an ounce of movement in him, except for slow exhales and inhales you can see on his chest. Sasaki and Iguchi are both nearly the same, the former covered in bruises and in a deep, panicked haze, and the latter as asleep as Yuuji seemed to be while harbouring injuries he may never recover from.
The only non-roughed up one here is Gojo, it seems; Megumi has a stream of blood running from the top of his head in rivulets, staining his sweaty, scraped forehead.
“Wh— you two, what happened? Why are they all asleep? What happened to Yuuji? Are they okay? What—”
“Calm down, kid,” Gojo says, “They’ll be fine. I mean, there’s a 100% chance that your friend can be executed, but…”
“Executed?” you almost scream, “What the hell happened? You said things would be okay!”
“Uh-uh, again, calm down. I mean, we don’t even know when they’re gonna make him kick the bucket! He ate Sukuna’s finger, by the way.” He holds his arms up in faux surrender.
“Gojo you ignorant slut! Don’t you fucking dare tell me to ‘calm down!’ He ate Sukuna’s finger? Why weren’t you able to stop anything? What’s going to happen to him now? You know what— give him to me!”
“You know, it’s not like I’m scared of being hunted down by your father if you use your cursed technique— I mean, I’m leagues stronger than him— but the stuff was too strong. It’s not like you’ll be able to get rid of the finger in your little boyfriend.”
“He’s not her boyfriend!” Megumi interjects.
“Thank you, Megumi!” Your face is going hot like a campfire fanned by the wind.
“Oh?” Gojo adds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Anyway, we’re going to get him to a place where we can cover everything with talismans to surround him.”
They’re going to execute him at Jujutsu High after.
“I’m coming with you.”
“You sure?” Gojo asks, “Your father isn’t going to like you travelling so far away without telling him.”
Megumi shifts, a little sombre. “[Name], you don’t have to.”
“...I’m doing this for Yuuji, not for you.”
“You okay?” Gojo asks while the three of you are back in the hospital. (You hate this building so much.) Iguchi’s been transferred to a ward, Sasaki having woken up and insisting on staying with him. “I’ve got kikufuku if you want some. You must be really tired since it’s so late, huh?”
The whole situation is so incredulous you’re unsure of whether you want to burst out laughing or dismember someone.
“...nothing. Wait, let me see Yuuji again.”
Everyone is asleep, it seems— all except for you and Gojo. Yuuji’s been knocked out, and Megumi’s stuck in the world of his dreams.
You can’t sleep. There’s just nothing to put your mind at rest.
At least if there’s one thing you can do it’s this.
Gojo picks him up by the sides of his torso (now temporarily clothed with a spare white shirt) like a child with a heavy book. “Woah— he’s pretty heavy for a fifteen year old kid.”
You lay Yuuji face-up on the line of hospital chairs. There are thin scarlet marks right under his eyes— Sukuna’s eyelids, you’ve been told.
You should’ve done more to protect him.
Slowly, reticently, you kneel by the side of the chairs. You press your fingertips onto that pair of thin tiny lines.
Nothing happens. You can’t picture his cells being able to grow back. It’s as if there’s been a slit on his face and its outline has been replaced with brand-new skin. His cells don’t budge.
“Why don’t you help Megumi? I bet he’s got plenty of healable injuries.”
“…I don’t think I’ll be able to help much. I could faint if I try helping him now. It’s better to leave it to Dr Ieiri or something.”
“Pft,” he scoffs, “Shoko? She’s definitely not going to heal all of him. It’ll just be a waste of her time. You can just help him with the tiny scrapes and bruises first. And I’ll even tell her that you did it. She’s really fond of you, you know.”
You give him a shy, modest smile. “Thanks, then.”
It’s time to get to work.
Megumi’s skin is smooth like a baby’s just like the last time you felt it, though the frown on his face, ever-present, is bound to cause wrinkles there in less than a few decades’ time. You place your hands on him, bruised and bloody, watching in your mind and directing his cells as they work.
Once the smaller injuries have been dealt with, you stop. “I can’t really work on the one on his head, since then you’d get another fainted person to carry around, but he should be fine with some bandages and patching-up there, because I’ve already kind of catalysed the start of that area’s healing process a little. Other than that, he should be completely fine. I’ll give it, say… two weeks or so for it to get better completely.”
“Good work!” he smiles, the outline of his cheeks visible on his blindfold.
“By the way, Mr Gojo…”
“You know, I appreciate the respect you’re giving me now, but just Gojo is fine.”
“Okay, Gojo. Do you think Yuuji will be okay?”
“I mean, I’m pretty sure. And I’m going to ask them to suspend his sentence. I’ll just see whether he wants that or not once he wakes up.”
“That’s the thing. I’m not sure if he even will.”
Gojo laughs. “Don’t worry. He was really strong, and able to switch between being possessed by Sukuna and being himself at will. We haven't seen that kind of talent in a millennia! I’m sure they’ll listen to me, anyway.”
“Thank you,” you sigh. Thank goodness. “If you need any type of payment, um… teleport to my house whenever you get inconvenient little cuts like bruises and stuff. I can help.”
“Nah, reverse cursed technique’s got me covered.”
“Oh, wait— I forgot about that— um… I can…”
“Just leave it to me! No payment required,” he exclaims, holding both thumbs up. “And for the record, the one who wanted to save Yuuji was actually Megumi.”
You wouldn’t have imagined that would happen. Megumi— pragmatic, serious, unkind when he needs to be (no matter how kind of a person he actually is— no, was— at heart), different from Tsumiki in so many ways. There was no way he would have been the one vouching for Yuuji, someone he’d only just met, to be spared.
“Really?” you ask, “I… wouldn’t have thought he was the one who would do it. I thought, maybe, you were just… really kind tonight or something…”
“Well, maybe it was because he saw how much you cared about Itadori and did it for you, or maybe he had met Itadori, liked him, and just wanted to save a good person,” Gojo suspects, “But if there’s one thing for sure it’s that your old friend saved your new one.”
“...oh.”
You’ll have to bring it up with him next time— maybe, if he’s still there tomorrow…
“I know you’re mad at him, but a lot has happened,” Gojo states, voice lower, softer like a schoolteacher’s, “Still, I won’t tell you that you have to give him a chance or any of that. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to thank him or anything. I’m sure he did it out of his own volition without expecting anything from you. He knew he probably didn’t deserve to if it were you.”
You pause. “No, it’s just… I’ll talk to him again the next time I see him. Alone, most likely. And I can figure something out. I think that would be the best way to go around things. Thank you, Gojo.”
18-6-2018
The aftershocks are still there, although you’ve come out unscathed.
Last night was a mingled mess, a blur. You’d tried your best to help Iguchi by the time Yuuji was placed in the room of talismans and you could come back to the hospital and visit, but in the end he still needed better help than that. His injuries were too large of scale for how you were at that moment, already tired after healing some of the numbers done on Megumi.
(You were useless. You couldn’t help anyone. You couldn’t prevent Yuuji from being hit with such soul-striking guilt., couldn’t help Sasaki from being traumatised, couldn’t help Iguchi enough for him to be back at school soon—)
Sasaki’s injuries were limited to bruises and scrapes, but though you could help her physically, there was nothing you could do to assist her emotionally.
You stayed with them for a few hours in the ICU and then one of the hospital wards (a floor under your mother’s), your father calling you once the sun had risen.
“Gojo Satoru told me about everything that happened.”
“Yeah. I know you’ll scold me, but… not now. I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.” You hang up.
For all you spoke of wanting to be useful, the night when your powers were needed the most was when you were at your most useless— you couldn’t help them, you couldn’t help attack the cursed spirits, and the only thing you could do was call for an adult’s help like a little, scared and helpless girl.
You needed to train, and train harder than you had been doing for the past few years.
There’s a knock on the door, a dot-dot-dot-dot-dot. dot dot. It’s Yuuji, you know it is. How ever could you not?
Timidly, movements quiet like the room itself, you pull the door knob, seeing him there, relatively unscathed. You sigh in relief, a moment’s respite before you return to the panic you had been living in before since you deserve the respite less than other people do— no, you don’t deserve such a break at all, you’re absolutely sure of that, not after what you pulled, how horribly and utterly useless you were, you’ll remind yourself of that again and again and again— the heart-piercing guilt and the worry and the constant need to care for the people around you, almost like a mother, maybe, but you don’t like that thought as much as you think you should. Maybe if your own mother knew, she’d disagree— maybe she’d tell you that you should be a mother, maybe she’d ignore that you were also a child at certain times— the most convenient ones, probably. When she thinks it good that you, a child, were someone’s caretaker because women should take pride in and appreciate that, she would encourage you to be one; when she thinks it bad that as a caretaker and a so-called ‘adult’ you can have your own autonomy, agency and opinions, then maybe she’d remind you that in her eyes you knew nothing of the world. But maybe, just maybe, there was also a chance that she wouldn’t be like that in any way.
But you wouldn’t put it past her.
“Yuuji, are you okay?” There are questions about to spill out of you, tears about to fall like gushing rivers, but you’re just happy he’s alive at this point.
“Yeah.” His voice is soft. Your chest twinges; it hurts like an awful, intransigent little bruise. “Hi, [Name].” It feels so unignorable, the way it’s filled with such sorrow and worry that it weighs his usually loud and boisterous voice down.
“I thought that—” you start, lips trembling, “I thought there was a chance I couldn’t lose you. The only thing I could do was—” you sniffle, “Hope that they could delay it or something.”
“Yeah. I’ll explain it later,” he says, his voice sincere.
You squeeze the wrist of his sleeve. “Don’t do things like that ever again,” you plead, “Promise me that at least.”
“I promise.”
“And keep your promises.”
“I will.”
“...want to come inside?”
He walks inside, and you step back to make way for him.
“Sorry I came so late,” he says to you and Sasaki, who shakes her head in reassurance. “Hello, Sasaki,” he greets, “Is Iguchi okay?”
They speak for a while— you don’t feel like it’s much of your right to join their conversation, since you did nearly nothing at all when they were most in danger, so you leave them be for a while. It would be better not to bother them right now, anyway. They’ve both been traumatised until it reached beneath their bones within the past twenty-four hours.
When you leave the hospital, Sasaki tells you that she’s going to stay. You tell her to take care, squeezing her hand one final time.
You let her, patting her on the back. You’ll call them later— she’d given you her contact— just to check on the two of them.
“Where’s Megumi?” you ask Yuuji.
“Oh, Fushiguro? I’m not too sure, but that Gojo guy said he’ll be there soon.”
“Where, though?”
Sheepishly, in peak Yuuji fashion, he scratches the back of his neck. “Actually, another reason why I came here was also because… I mean, I know you and him weren’t close, but I’m going to the place where they’ll keep Grandpa’s ashes, and I think… you know, you could come with me. I… I don’t think I’d be able to do it really well alone, even though he had definitely made it clear he seriously didn’t want me moping around after his death and all. Gojo and Megumi will probably be there, but I thought it would be better if you were there because I know you better than those two, and you’re my friend. So… could you come with me? I know that he never really showed it, but I think he had always liked you a lot. Like, he was happy we were friends and stuff.”
“...mhm. I’ll always be happy about that,” you tell him, before pulling him into a hug. The guy must need one right now. You’ve never hugged him before. Your heart hurts.
The air is hot and humid with the breath of summer, bundles of mosquitoes bound to be breeding new ones these next few weeks. Up in the sky is the sun, bold and bright, glaring down harshly at the two of you.
“Before he passed away, Grandpa actually said something. He… kind of cursed me, if I’m being honest,” Yuuji starts. “He said I was a strong kid, so I should help people. And I’m going to do that. So that was why when Gojo asked if I wanted to be executed immediately or just eat all the fingers before dying, I chose the second option. I… I think I want to help people that way.”
‘You’ve already helped people enough. You helped me,’ you almost tell him.
You frown, because that’s the only thing you can do right now. You search for words to say the same way you do looking for dog books in libraries chock-full with those of other genres. “I’m… disappointed, I— I know I should be grateful, grateful that you’re still going to be alive and all, but… you’re still going to be in danger, and you’re still going to be executed one day. I mean, again, I know I should be happy you’re going to have more time alive and that I can still see you, but what if things don’t go as planned? What if you lose control of yourself once you reach, like, the fifth finger or something?”
You’re selfish like that. In a way, you’re just the way your mother is. You should’ve always known— you were her beloved daughter after all, and the people you know would be loved the same way she did you since the day she knew of your existence, and maybe even before that.
“Don’t worry,” he grins, wide as always. Even in an over-enveloping darkness he still manages to be the light. “I’ll be just fine. I’m a strong kid, after all. And we’ll always be friends!”
Gojo asks if he and Yuuji can talk in private for a while. You wonder if this was how your mother felt as she had to give the person she loved most away (but you will have to go away, one day), because you can briefly tell what Gojo is going to ask. You wonder if she felt this twice.
Yuuji can’t stay with you forever. In the same way you can’t remain by your mother and father’s sides for all eternity.
This won’t be the last time you’re here, you think. For a place of death, it’s quite a bit beautiful how there’s such large masses of grass and plants surrounding it.
Megumi nearly walks past you, his eyes on the old photographs of the deceased all around him.
“Megumi.”
He turns around.
“I just wanted to thank you for wanting to save my friend, even if you may not have wanted to do it for me, specifically… um… I didn’t expect that you’d still be here. Are your injuries okay?”
“I’m okay,” he answers you. “And also, I…” he hesitates, the first time he’s talked to you for something actually related to the two of you in a long time— nearly two years if you’re counting correctly, but the thoughts in your head are a bit too jumbled to count at the moment. “I didn’t really do it for you, though. It… it was for Tsumiki.”
“Oh.”
“Wait! I’m sorry, that didn’t… come out right. But I should also apologise for something else. You wouldn’t have been thrown into this world anyway if not for my own demon dogs years ago.”
“No, no, it wasn’t your fault. And I would have wanted to be in it anyway. There’s not many who can heal other people and all, so I just thought… even if I can’t do as much yet, since I don’t have reversed cursed technique and the drawbacks that come from mine are really bad, I can still help people sometimes if they’re dealing with relatively minor injuries. I can, um… make things easier for people. I can be useful like that. I’d keep to it anyway, because I’m stubborn, but… yeah. It wasn’t your fault, really.”
“Okay. That’s good to hear.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I’m happy to know that Tsumiki is okay.”
Silence again for a while. The air turns a little more sombre, and a lot more awkward.
“She is. And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.”
“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.”
“You love him a lot,” Megumi says.
“I do. He’s a really good friend. If there’s something I’ll always know I know that, at least.”
“I can see that. It doesn’t seem like he loves you back in the same way, though.”
“...wow. Way to be blunt, Megumi. And yes, I do know that, too.”
“Let’s just… change the subject.”
“You’re the one who introduced it in the first place.”
“Okay. How… how are you?”
“I’m good. Wait, I think you should… go back to them. Maybe they’ll need you there right about now. He’s probably going to have to go to Jujutsu High, right?”
He pauses. “Yeah. I’m sorry, [Name].”
“No, no. That’s okay. I expected it. It’s just that I’ll miss him a lot,” you tell him, “He took care of me, kind of. You know I’ve always been a bit of an awkward or shy person, but he still approached me since I was new and we ended up hitting off as friends, kind of. We did a lot of stuff together.”
Sounds pretty familiar, huh.
“If you want I can make sure he’s safe for you.”
“...you should be able to do that regardless of whether it’s my wish for you to do so or not…” you state, “But that would help, I guess. And I’m sorry for my attitude towards you for the past few hours or so. Thank you again.”
“...I’m sorry I never spoke to you for so long, by the way,” he says abruptly. ‘By the way’? Classic Megumi…
“I could tell you were. It’s… it’s okay. The two of you kind of have a habit of doing that.”
All your rage, your loneliness, your feelings of abandonment— and this is all you can do. This is all you can say. You can only just let it go, in the end.
“I’ll explain it all one day.”
“You don’t have to if it’s hard.”
He stays. “No, I will. I promise. And I promise I’ll start to talk to you again, as well. I was just… scared of a few things, maybe.”
“That’s okay.”
The two of you aren’t quite friends again yet, but it’ll happen soon. Maybe. And even if it doesn’t, you’re finally able to say, with an open, honest heart, that that doesn’t matter as much anymore.
“I guess this is goodbye again, then.”
“Not really.”
“Oh, right— promise to keep in touch, okay? My patience is running thin with you,” you chuckle at that last part, attempting to joke and make things lighter again.
“Promise.”
“I’m going to go home now, by the way. Please tell Yuuji that I wish him the best and I’ll visit when I have my own money to visit Tokyo and all.”
“I will.”
“And help me say goodbye to him for me,” you add, “Hope that’s not too much for you to do. Sorry for the trouble. It’s just that I’d actually just about cry if I had to do it in real time right in front of him. Be good to him and be good friends, okay? Keep that promise, at the very least. That’s the one thing that I wish for the most.”
“Bye, Megumi.” You turn back in the direction opposite of his.
“Wait—!”
His hand is on your wrist. Now you’re in front of him, like yesterday, and he’s holding your wrist, albeit a bit gentler than the way he used to pull it a whole eight years ago.
His eyes are cast away from you, slightly avoidantly and in a way that’s a bit abashed. “I’ll miss you, [Name].”
“It won’t even feel like I’m not there,” you say. Though his grip is slightly tight, he loosens it as soon as you try to slide it up, as if he’d let you be free of it if you want him to.
You squeeze his hand instead, turning to face him. It feels warm. It feels like there’s blood coursing through you, the sensation more tender and tangible than it’s ever been.
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, [Name]. I’ll… I’ll call.”
“Thank you.”
Now you’re the one slipping away from his grasp. You move your hand away and walk back. The door slides open.
2010. Springs, summers, autumns, winters. Hands on wrists, a back faced to your eyes, wide with innocence. Warmth and laughter and happiness and love. Days coloured with vibrant hues and time spent with dog books and in libraries. Frowns were greeted with smiles. Hesitance was non-existent. You didn’t feel a need to compensate for your uselessness. You were a child. You didn’t feel useless at all. You just felt this: a constant leaping in your heart, the corners of your mouth twisting up into a juvenile grin, braiding someone’s beautiful brown hair and tying it with a pretty cherry hair tie.
You want to cry as you walk back home.
You’re pretty sure you do.
taglist:
@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored
(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)
#ohhh my goodness i'm so sorry this took so long#aaa but life's going to get very busy quite soon#so i just decided to post the next two chapters on tumblr first because writing chapter 8 and posting it on ao3 will take a while....#take me back (take me with you)#jjk megumi#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#megumi fushiguro#megumi#fushiguro megumi#megumi fluff#megumi angst#fushiguro megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro x reader#jjk x fem!reader#fem!reader#ruer writes#megumi x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#megumi imagine#adding more tags this time hope it works out#fanfiction#jjk fanfiction
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How would Vil take their partner being discouraging about being intimate with them because their partner is insecure about their body, compared to how Vil's body is?
I'm sorry if that has been asked before or if it's weird, I was really really curious cause I have an idea but I want to see how others think as well!
Vil Schoenheit:
Vil is very direct as a person and as a partner, his communication direct on the topic. He doesn’t like the implication that you don’t like your body because you’re comparing it to his; it almost felt like an excuse. He’s aware that not a lot of people put as much effort into their appearance as he did but it also felt like you were doubting him and his taste, because he had been the one to choose you as his partner, hadn’t he? He understands that it can be hard and that being overly critical can lead to behavior that’s not productive, but he doesn’t want it to be that way forever.
He would ask if you have a plan and how he could help you with it. Did you want to get in better shape? He could help you come up with a regimen that fit your needs and wouldn’t be too hard on you (and he could even work out with you if you’d like). Were you just looking to increase your confidence in your body the way it was? He wouldn’t mind complimenting you more often because, as he had already said, he thought you were attractive as you were but would never deny you if you felt you needed to improve yourself. Confidence is key in a lot of scenarios and he hoped you two could figure out a way to build your confidence so you no longer felt hesitant during intimate moments.
You can be assured when Vil compliments the things he likes about you, from your personality to your physical features, that he’s not lying. He’d never tell you something was attractive when it wasn’t, never one to hide his distaste if you wore an outfit that didn’t quite suit you or make-up that was a little too heavy. He was gentle but firm when it came to you, again willing to help if you needed it but allowing you the room to figure out what you wanted on your own.
#Twisted Wonderland#TWST#Twisted Wonderland Imagines#Twisted Wonderland x Reader#TWST Imagines#TWST x Reader#Vil Schoenheit#Vil Schoenheit x Reader
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okay. let's talk about black terry jr.
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TL;DR: terry jr is black. that is something that should not be erased. regardless of your access to or willingness to search for the canon material that confirms this, you should not be depicting him as white. whitewashing terry by refusing to think of him as black creates an unsafe space for our black community members, and you should re-examine your personal biases if you choose to insist on continuing to see terry as white.
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terry jr is black. point-blank. and if terry jr is canonically black, then he should be depicted as such.
i will concede that it is something that you might not spot if you listen through the podcast casually. it's something that i didn't know was actually official in any capacity until recently. and i would like to note that i do not have and have never had access to the dndads patreon. i have not listened to any of the teen talks in full (even the ones released to the public. it's just not my jam.), and any information or spitballing contained within is something that i have either been told second-hand or am completely unaware of. i also didn't look at the official poster (the "everything is alright" poster) that depicted both terry jr and samantha as black.
but the fact of the matter remains that terry jr and samantha are black and have been acknowledged as such within the source material.
once again, i myself didn't seek this information out enough to know it was official canon. so then why have i always depicted them as black anyway?
well when i started engaging with the fandom, i saw what was being presented to me in the fandom was overwhelmingly that terry was indeed black or at least popularly interpreted to be black. and my first and only thought was that that was nice. so i decided to roll with it.
if i really wanted to check if that was canon and it being canon was important to me, i could always have asked around. i could've sought out information from official sources. because if they were black and i just missed it in some way, i would've wanted to check myself. especially because doing so would lead to whitewashing.
but i didn't feel the need to do that because i think that just the added racial diversity was really cool to see on its own.
for argument's sake, there is still the possibility that you'd think it is simply just popular fanon. let's say you chose to not check for yourself whether or not he was canonically black. or let's say that, for whatever reason, you think that what is available isn't enough to sufficiently deem him canonically black. so let's discuss why terry should still be depicted as black even if it was "just" fanon and there were no official artworks to go off of.
i am not of the opinion that fanon in general should be taken as gospel. in fact, there are quite a few things within dndads fanon itself that i personally disagree with and choose not to engage with. the reason why this interpretation in particular is a sore spot is the question of why, after seeing the popular portrayal and recognizing the ability to create racial diversity in a space where a good amount of appearances and identities can be up for interpretation, someone would still choose to depict him as white.
why do you choose to depict him as white? do you have any personal biases that make you think that he would or should be white? do you think that it is unimportant or inconsequential to not depict him as a person of color?
what would be so compelling about making him white that you would choose to go against this interpretation? why is it so important that you continue to see him as white?
who are you ignoring in the process?
i do not think it is deliberately malicious to initially think that terry jr is white. it is the unfortunate truth that white tends to be considered the default. but it begins to rub me the wrong way when anyone chooses to stick with that idea when presented with any evidence or argument to the contrary.
though i will admit that i am not black, i am still a person of color. and i think that creating a fandom space where we can highlight, create, and celebrate racial variety means creating a space where people of color feel safer. and because i would like to uplift the black fandom member who tried to voice their own personal take on this matter, i would like to link back to [this post from vivalapersistence] as the reason why i felt compelled to talk about this in the first place.
i don't want to talk over him, but i want to point out his statement that having this kind of solid representation is important and means something to him as a black person in this community. erasing terry as black means that you would be, intentionally or not, erasing and silencing black voices. it takes away that element of representation within the fandom and does real harm to the black people within when you decide that that representation isn't important. there are real racial connotations to the argument here, and it's frankly a little callous to pretend like there's not.
so maybe let's be nice to the BIPOC in our community spaces, okay?
and i want to make it clear right now. if you want to discuss what i say here, you can discuss this with me.
#sigh. i typically don't fuck around in quote unquote “fandom drama”#but i really wanted to make my stance clear#dndads#idc this goes in the main tag i want my stance heard too
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The entire Fandom needs to listen to this:
Percy having a thing for Rachel was so absolutely deserved like he should have been head over heels for her. Here's why?
First meeting? Runs her through with Riptide, and where anyone would have spent the whole time yelling and arguing, Rachel quickly gauged the situation, helped Percy hide, deviated the skeletons from their orignal path all at the same time.
Percy is so awed and he should be and Rick Riordan doesn't do justice to the whole thing.
It ends on Percy saying he owes her one, almost an indication that they would meet again.
Yet Percy is terrified of running into Rachel again because he isn't sure if he could answer all her questions, most definitely because he doesn't want to drag her into the whole thing. So much so that when he sees her at Goode, he calls her "my redheaded nightmare " .
Not only has he thought of her since they last met, but he may or may not have dreamed about her, not to mention he remembered her full name after listening just once.
When he does meet her again she yet again warns him about monsters hence saving both of them.
The most important thing is Percy, who all his life has been judged blamed ridiculed, and mocked is for the very first time understood so instantaneously by Rachel. She who has been put in mortal danger every single time she meets him doesn't blame him, doesn't judge him for it, and openly takes the blame for the burning school. Even Annabeth's first response to seeing the smoke is blaming Percy despite being around him and knowing well enough for 3 years; she chooses to blame him as if she doesn't know that it's never Percy's fault. Yet Rachel, someone who he has met only twice and that too for meager few minutes, understands him and his situation so well.
All the people in the Fandom ask yourself this: Will Percy Jackson not for all that he is be absolutely head over heels and in awe of someone like that?
He can barely give her any answers at the moment, but she agrees to a death quest to help him save the world.
Throws a literal hairbrush at the Titan King and stands her ground.
Stays by him and comforts him through his depressive thoughts about dying due to the prophecy.
Falls in love with him despite knowing he has little time left.
Does her best to help him while still keeping his mind off from spiraling into dark thoughts.
Rides a literal helicopter mid-apocalypse to get to him just to warn him of the dangers?
Percy would be so absolutely over the moon in love with Rachel, were Uncle Rick not so fixated on Percabeth agenda.
The last bit is for toxic Annabeth stans:
Rachel is a genius too.
She is ambidextrous and can draw with both hands and legs; probably has exceptional memory, and her composure and quick thinking are on par with Percy himself.
I hate bringing this to looks, but I will if I get to shut up toxic fans. Annabeth is certainly beautiful, and her grey eyes are quite unique, but Rachel is the most underrated and definitely the most beautiful out of all Percy Jackson females.
The woman literally won genetic lottery with red hair and green eyes, and the only reason Uncle Rick doesn't rave about her beauty is to not make Annabeth insecure.
Also, for those overly concerned about the Oracle celibacy thing, I will address that in my next post and how it's not a problem at all.
Expect more Pjo-centric posts along with Perachel headcanons and more.
#percy jackson#rachel elizabeth dare#annabeth chase#perachel#anti percabeth#percy jackson and the olympians#couple goals#perachel is the best percy ship hands down#percy and rachel both deserve to be with each other
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Some thoughts about Ch 419 - character agency and origin
I'm way behind, but wanted to add my 2c on the debate relating to the AFO "twist" and what it means for Tenko to have AFO at the core of his existence. It made me think once again of the Shouto-Shigaraki parallels .
I didn't take it quite as bad as some of the fandom, because:
we kind of already knew AFO was behind it, we just didn't know the full extent
unlike a lot of people, I didn't think that Tenko being saved by vestige magic hugs, sidestepping Tomura's adult personality and going hand in hand with child!Izuku to fight the big bad would have been a good conclusion.
I also don't think that Tenko not having any agency is necessarily a bad thing. You see, my favourite character, Shouto is a lot like Tenko. His birth, his quirk, the loss of his family, every trauma that shaped him as a child leads back to Endeavor. He's born to be his weapon to use as he wishes.
His lack of agency doesn't make him a boring character. In fact, I find it fascinating how the story shows us Shouto clawing back his agency, identity inch by painful inch, until he's able to stand firm and say - so I can AFFIRM the reason for being born. So let's look at saving Shouto, because I do think it's kind of a blueprint not only for saving Tenko/Tomura, but to Tenko/Tomura rising to save others.
And if we remember Shouto's journey - yes, it starts with a moment of a hero reaching out to him, reconnecting him to his child self who was told that he can choose who he wants to be, he can be a hero.
Notice though how being reconnected to his child self, is not an insta-save. Baby!Shouto doesn't just take over UA!Shoto and erase his personality or past mistakes. Shouto himself has to do the work. He has to face his own shitty choices, like giving the cold shoulder to Inasa or not seeing his mom for a decade and try to reconcile who he is NOW after the abuse, grooming and being driven by negative feelings. Taking ownerships of his mistakes (even if the source is Endeavor) is one of the ways to emancipation.
But it's also not a straight path. Shouto experiences being faced with his childhood dream as a nerf (just like Tomura did now lose to AFO) because of the trauma and doubts he carries. He momentarily loses his will to fight.
For people who never had agency in their lives like Shoto or Tomura, the simple truth that you get to make choices is hard to internalize and the constant doubt whether it's a choice you make by yourself or are you just walking down the path your "creator" set out for you remains.
And how could it not? Shouto wants to be a hero and wants to be not like his father who is the No 1 hero now. It's a contradiction, no? And it takes Shouto 200+ chapters to come up with an answer to reconcile the tension - he wants to be a reassuring hero - something Endeavor never was. Having this goal in his mind, he's able to accept more and more of the tools his father gave him - his quirk, Endeavor's techniques, even gear that looks like his father's - because as long as he's rooted in his own will, his own goal, he gets to keep his own identity, he gets to affirm his reason.
This is why I want not some idealized child Tenko to vanquish AFO. I think it's much more powerful if the person who makes a return is Tomura (who is also Tenko, but I use Tomura as a shorthand for his adult self, the person who he has become).
And while it's undeniable that AFO is deeply at the core of Tenko's origin (just like Endeavor is for Shouto), I also think he's gaslighting Tomura when he says Tomura never made a choice. And I'm talking about the League here specifically.
The bonds Tomura created with Touya, Toga, Spinner, Compress, Twice, Magne, etc - are fully choices he made. AFO let it happen - but the League (a place for outcasts to be accepted) are Tomura's choices.
Just as for Shoto the friends he made are instrumental in him earning his agency, being able to affirm his existence and not crumble from tragedy, the LoV is the key for Tomura to start to claw back his own.
And that's why I think it's narratively desirable for them to be part of Tomura's endgame (also to mirror Deku who would be fully an OFA/All Might creation if not for the friends and allies he made for himself and who all come to his aid in the end).
The League is also the place where the Tenko/Tomura faultlines can be reconciled into a whole. Tenko's desire to be heroic (to play with the outcasts) and Tomura's desire to stand with his allies/friends (the villains). So it boils down into a moment of wanting to be the Hero of the Villains. That's Tomura affirming himself right there. This is not AFO's path for him, but it's him reintegrating everything he has become, his truths and understanding of the world, his bonds that shaped him into that childhood dream. (It's like Shouto's "reassuring hero" moment).
And I think Tomura losing himself to the trauma, PTSD, etc. momentarily is ok too. He lost the rage that drove him forward (like Shouto in the final of the Sport Festival) and is untethered right now. He will need to find a positive emotion to become his drive to take him forward.
But his power will surface with the right trigger, just like Shouto showing up at the Stain fight wielding his newly liberated fire to help Deku was the real pay-off for their Sport Festival fight. (But only after Shouto digged deep inside himself and went to face his mother, face the existence he was given and the hurt it caused to his family with the actual reality.).
I think Tomura will also need a "deep dive" to compare his perception of the world to the current reality. Is society as passive and worthless as his perception of it? The heroes all fighting together, the civilians pitching in feels like there is a change compared to the passive hero society he remembers. But I think the real trigger should be / will be the LoV coming in. Because is it true that AFO made him choose them?
The LoV despite their bonds being real and deep couldn't save each other because they were all spiralling deep in their own traumas. But now Toga and Touya also had their own moments of reconnecting with their child self and having that child's original desire fulfilled (for Tenko - a hero came, for Touya - his family watched him, for Toga - someone accepted her as normal) but of course it's not a magic solution.
Because that moment would have saved the child they were, but not enough for their current selves. They will also have to make their own choices going forward. I think all of them can find the reason to face AFO now - Toga still wants to protect the things she likes, Touya maybe able to move beyond his father's reasons and look for his own, but not from a revenge perspective, Spinner is loyal, Compress I think will also come.
How, you ask? Well, Kurogiri is still black with bits of white. He still has in him the conditioning to protect Tomura, but also infused with Shirakumo's genuine care. I think just like Oboro helped the heroes to round up everyone, Kurogiri will round up Tomura's allies.
And once they are there, Tomura will rise up to them and will be the hero of the villains, joining forces with Deku and everyone to finally finish off AFO (and maybe save his friends). Because even with the little agency he had over his life, those choices were his alone, and he will be able to root his identity in that.
#bnha meta#bnha 419#tomura shigaraki#lov#todoroki shouto#afo#shouto shigaraki parallels#bnha parallels#shimura tenko#class1a reads bnha
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Negai no Astro Chapter 3: Some Thoughts
Another banger by Wakui. I'm enjoying this story and its characters a lot so far! Wakui always knows how to move me with his complex family plotlines and drama🥹Excited to see what's to come, and also afraid for the siblings and the angst that I'm certain Wakui is cooking, I mean we already saw a glimpse of it. It was resolved quickly though, yay (for now)
The family all look so tiny and cute aw🥰I really want to see more of their past before the rebellion started, them growing up together, bonding, just soft moments..I feel like Wakui will bring these forward during fights or deaths..we saw him do that a lot in Tokyo Revengers, to pour salt on the wound 😭 Anyway, we have the number of most of the siblings so far except the 4th, 6th and 7th adopted, and as far as we know they are 12, I believe one was shown this chapter but not given a number yet, and it is 12 adopted siblings and Hibaru if I am not wrong, I have a feeling the cute girl from the promo pictures is not related to them, but to the astro power. I would like to meet some characters outside the family, I love the concept a lot as someone who has enjoyed such stories, but I wanna see some friendships etc. like in TR, Wakui knows how to write such bonds so well🥹
+ Still no news of her..no name, no info, Wakui please..🙏🏻😔
He's like the little "I choose violence" “peace was never an option” duck meme😭 but damn, seeing a different side to Terasu this chapter sure was interesting..he can be pretty cold-hearted, unlike his angel of a brother..but they complement each other, as one of the TR quotes that I love dearly: "he compensates for what he's lacking."
While I stand with Hibaru on this, I need to know more about Terasu and his relationship with the siblings aside Hibaru because he does not seem to have any bit of a soft spot for them, and I wonder why. I mean, he went to the extreme immediately, but we also saw that Shio wants them dead, and who knows what else he witnessed the siblings do when Hibaru was in his coma. He definitely just wants to protect himself and Hibaru from Shio and the rest who wish them harm or want them eliminated out of the picture, but I did not like the "we're not blood related we might as well be strangers"..I understand his frustration, but adopted family is a family, and found family is a family..reminds me of the conversation between Shinichiro and Izana, when Izana insisted that blood means everything, and Shinichiro said blood does not matter, they are still family, be it adopted, or the family you choose..but also if your family wants you dead, it is a complicated situation in a dog eat dog world, as Terasu said, it's kill or be killed. I wonder what Hibaru will do when forced to face such a situation, cause surely the power of love and friendship wont stop Shio and the rest
Hibaru and Terasu's fight was fun to read;not fun emotionally was gonna cry if they did not resolve it but like, seeing Wakui's fight scenes again, I love it + I knew Terasu's astro power is a shield, I mean it was quite obvious since he survived a whole building crashing on him, but nice to see it confirmed lol. + so they are shield and strength, interesting dynamic.
Angel mc with a heart of gold🩷every chapter I love him more and more, I'll give him the world and keep him in my pocket🥹 I am afraid of him though, "never be so kind you forget to be clever", I hope he knows the limits of love to give those who wish him harm. but it warms my heart, how he says he loves Shio and everyone..my sweet boy, please don't hurt him Wakui..i hope some of the siblings will be on his side. I also love how his purity and kind soul reflected on Terasu and were able to turn things around and end the fight. I'm starting to doubt that Terasu would betray him (mentioning this cause I wrote before some hints that he could be a Judas kind of character later) I love angst, but I hope to not see them fight again. Also the way he sobs and calls him "jerkface" because he was so hurt that the family was called strangers..adorable precious sweet boy🫶🏻
Angry kitty😠
Hibaru is so cute and Terasu is like "free me I don't wanna be here"😭
grandpa is so funny the way he's here for the tea and encouraging the fight , I hope to keep seeing more of him
I finally know pretty boy's name! Shikaba! and the other brother is Taira, interesting to see they are presented together in both their appearances. they don't seem too mean like the other brothers. Taira so far seems like a Hanma type of character who comments about everything and enjoys the vibes lol. As for Shikaba, interesting to see his eyes are still closed 🤔
aaand him, Kuran, he sure is intriguing, as Hibaru referred to him as "a real man among men", and it shows he truly admires him and his strength. he's been quiet so far in all his appearances, but does not seem too friendly, we shall see
that's all, I adore Hibaru and Terasu sm🫶🏻
#anime and manga#negai no astro#ken wakui#manga#astro royale#astro royale manga#negai no astro manga#tokyo revengers#tokrev#hibaru#hibaru yotsurugi#hibaru negai no astro#terasu#terasu yotsurugi#terasu negai no astro#shio negai no astro#shio yotsurugi#shikaba yotsurugi#taira yotsurugi#wakui please don’t hurt terasu#i love this manga sm already
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