#i almost tried to commit suicide the following day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

j0eyj0rdis0n · 7 months

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DARK THEMES AHEAD!!!

How do you think that the CP fan favs

(Jeff, proxies, E.J. you can add if you want :D)

Would react to their S/O threatening to commit suicide (shooting themselves of stabbing) because they couldn't deal with them kidnapping and taking away their freedom or rights?

(Sorry for this depressing ask, im feeling angst-y and you're one of my fav writers on here. Cheers!)

No! I absolutely love asks like this and this is honestly some of my favorite stuff to write! Thank you so much for the ask and I hope you enjoy! 🖤

TRIGGER WARNING AHEAD

CREEPS REACTING TO THEIR S/O TRYING TO COMMIT SUICIDE

JEFF THE KILLER:

When you stole his knife from atop his dresser he almost felt fear. Well.. He did but he’ll never admit it.

The look of wild fear and confusion was splayed all over his face as you threatened to slit your wrists right there. Right in front of him.

“I hate you! I hate you so much!” You pointed and jabbed the knife at him through heavy sobs. “I didn’t want this! I don’t want you!”

He could barely find the words. Should he take it from you? The question really was could he take it from you.

When he finally came to a conclusion he muttered roughly, “Y/N. Give me the knife.”

A simple but hopefully effective sentence

When you didn’t listen and began to press the knife to your wrist, watching the blood slowly pool. He lunged. Ripping the knife from your hands by the blade.

He didn’t care that he’d cut his hands open, blood pouring onto the carpet and his hands burning from the deep cuts.

He just wanted you safe.

You could see him wince as he looked down at his bloody hands, trying hard to play it off with a crooked smile when he looked up at you.

“Come on sweets, let’s go see EJ. He’s good with this kinda thing.”

EYELESS JACK:

He came home to you frantically looking through his medicine cabinets

He stood in the doorway silently, watching you closely to truly get an idea of what you were up to

When you poured an obnoxious amount of hefty pills into your small hand he let out a low growl. A warning one. One you’ve heard many times before when you’d try to escape

He watched you turn around with tears in your eyes

“I can’t do this anymore… Find someone else.” You choked out as you brought your hand to your mouth, letting the pills fall in

It was in an instant he was on top of you, snarling wildly. He yanked your jaw down, immediately sticking his clawed fingers down your throat.

“Throw it up!!” He shouted. It was the loudest you’d heard him speak before…

The pressure from his fingers deep in your throat brought more tears to your eyes as you threw up.

He stroked your back and held your hair as the acid and pills burned your throat coming back up

After that day, all the cabinets had heavy padlocks on them and only Jack carried the keys

TIM/MASKY:

He decided to let you drive, just this once. Just because you begged and he loved you so much he couldn’t tell you no.

You followed the route he gave you, trying to make him think you two would actually be going to the mission site.

When you began speeding up obviously far over the posted speed limit, Tim began to grow suspicious

You’d never been this eager to go on a mission.

It was only when he saw tears falling down your cheeks that he knew what was happening.

“Y/N turn the car off. Pull over. Now.”

When you didn’t do as he instructed he harshly moved to get the car to a stop. Pulling the emergency break and throwing the car into park before ripping the keys out of the ignition

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?!” He shouted angrily.

When you turned to look at him there was rage in your eyes. “You ruined my life!! Now I don’t want one at all!”

He felt his heart sink when he listened to you. You didn’t want him… He thought things were going well between the two of you…

It was only then that he called off this mission, ready to take whatever punishment the Operator had for him

BRIAN/HOODIE:

You’d tried this sort of thing before… He knew you didn’t like it here but he needed you. He’d wanted you for so long he couldn’t just let you go

The first time you two were on a mission you’d tried to jump from a bridge, he was lucky he grabbed you in time. Thank god he was fast…

After that day he essentially baby proofed the house, not allowing you around the other creeps and certainly not on missions anymore

One day he got sloppy though. He was tired, it was mission after mission and all he wanted to do was come home and rest by your side.

He forgot to lock up his gun like he always does. Placing it on the nightstand instead and getting into bed with you in his arms

He’s a pretty light sleeper so it was odd that you could get out of his arms and grab the gun without him knowing

It was only when he heard the click of the safety and your soft sobs that he woke up. Sitting up straight and looking around the dark room.

You were on your knees on the floor facing way from the bed, gun placed to your temple as your body shook with sobs.

He was thankful you didn’t realize he was awake. Otherwise he knew he wouldn’t have been successful in his attempt to take the gun.

When he snatched it from your hands you got up, clawing at him to get it back.

He held you to his chest, subduing you from your attacks.

“Go back to bed sweetheart.” He whispered softly, locking his gun up and taking you back to bed in his arms

“TICCI” TOBY:

You heard him coming down the hallway, back from another mission. He wasn’t stealthy in the slightest when he was home.

You tried your hardest to make it quick as you were trying to make sure the rope was secure while stepping up on the chair

“Y/N?!” Toby ran to you, snatching you off the chair.

“No!! Let me go!!” You fought him like a damn bull, kicking and flailing and scratching.

His lack of physical feeling came in handy in the situation. He pressed you down on the bed, practically sitting on you to make sure you couldn’t go anywhere

Your sobs only slightly hurt his heart. He was more upset by the fact you wanted to leave him. How could you?? Did he not give you enough? Was he not good enough for you?

“How could you do this to me?? I thought I was what you wanted!” He shouted angrily, pressing down harder when you continued to fight.

“I want nothing to do with you! You’re a fucking monster!”

He felt something inside him snap. “You’ll never leave now. You’re mine Y/N.”

#creepypasta #marble hornets #creepypasta headcannons #creepypasta requests #creepypasta hcs #marble hornets headcanons #tim wright #masky marble hornets #brian thomas #hoodie marble hornets #jeff the killer #jeff woods #eyeless jack #jack nyras #asks open #anon ask

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farahtissaiamyloves · 1 year

Text

Rave'N

Young Larissa Weems x reader

Now with part 2.

You were a student at Nevermore. A school hosting all kinds of outcasts.

Your skin was pale, as white as a new whiteboard, your eyes a dark shade of purple, and your hair pure black.

You were very similar to a ghost.

Lonely, always present yet unseen.

You preferred to keep quiet and let others do the talking for you.

You weren't very fond of the company of anyone.

Well, almost everyone.

Larissa was a living, breathing and excruciatingly smiling exception.

She, alongside her best friend, were the most popular girls of the school.

To your great surprise, she was meeting with you in the library.

You started spending time together as you were doing assignments or studying for various tests.

You had a tiny liking at her beforehand, her extraordinary hight, her polite behavior and her willingness to help everyone.

You were not usually fond of people, but somehow her presence was pleasant.

But this changed.

Rumors started spreading.

Rumors suggesting Larissa being in a relationship with Gomez Addams.

Before you were given a chance to ask her about it; you heard more.

Your roommate told you that a friend of hers had heard from one of her friends that they were seen kissing under the moonlight.

The following day, you heard two girls saying that they saw Gomez late at night, heading to Larissa's room.

You were heartbroken.

Yet, your neutral, murderous expression did not even falter.

You were as cold as you had always been from the outside, even though your whole inside was burning and burning.

You wanted to commit suicide right there on that spot.

After this specific rumor, you took the hard decision to return to your previous loneliness.

You let a person in resulting in your internal destruction.

You were to never repeat your mistake.

It was with a heavy heart watching Larissa spending more and more time with that disgusting, little, stupid, naive, annoying boy.

You were fuming.

The Rave'N was coming closer and closer and everybody was sure that Larissa and Gomez were to make it official during that ball.

In the beginning, you didn't want to go.

However, after lots of pleading from your roommate and even if you were never going to admit it out loud, you considered her a loyal and caring friend, you gave in to her and agreed.

She had done so many things to make you feel welcome, you could at least do this little favor to her as a way to show her your gratitude.

You were infamous for being as cold and unapproachable as a stone, not a monster.

So, you went shopping in Jericho and found the prettiest black dress you had ever seen.

But as you and your roommate grew closer together, you failed to notice Larissa's attempts to approach you.

Larissa tried to talk to you after lessons, or run into you alone in the library, only for you to dodge her without even sparing a second glance at her direction.

You were simply protecting yourself, you regretted nothing.

But when the Rave'N came, not only the whole school but also you were confused.

Gomez didn't go to the dance with the girl you liked so much, but with her best friend and roommate, Morticia.

You were confused beyond words.

What about Larissa ? Weren't they together ?

You sweared you had seen them spending more time than usual lately.

You looked around the dance room in a desperate try to find her.

" What are you doing ? " Your roommate inquired noticing your lack of attention on her.

" Searching for Larissa. " You replied without even looking at her.

She crossed her hands over her chest. " But you promised me to dance. "

" No, I didn't. " You noted.

She sighed in disappointment. " No, you didn't... But oh ! Come on ! At least a tiny one. Please... I want to make Brian jealous. " She pleaded.

You shook your head. " Sorry, but I have to go. "

You said and with no further word, you stormed off the room.

If Larissa wasn't in the dance, she would probably be in chambers, so that's where you needed to go.

You walked quickly through the empty corridors toward her room.

You couldn't help but ask yourself.

Did Gomez prefer Morticia over her ?

Was she crying, heartbroken right now ?

You swallowed hard finally reaching her door.

You silently walked to the wooden door and knocked softly.

Then you waited.

You couldn't hear anything behind the door, so you knocked on it again.

You didn't call out in case she didn't want to talk to you.

Again, no response.

You were on the verge of knocking again, but you heard footsteps and mumbling coming from the other side of the door.

The door opened to reveal a tired Larissa with puffy eyes in her pajamas.

Her eyes widened the moment she saw you standing there.

The highest girl in the school looked down at your extremely short figure.

Eyes wide open gazing back at her expectantly, head slightly bent on the side in interest.

But her eyes fell on your dress, it was complimenting your figure so much that she thought it was made for you.

" Larissa ? Are you okay ? " You questioned feeling a little awkward under her scrutinizing gaze.

You weren't used to people watching you that closely and it was making you feel uncomfortable.

You looked at the ground, avoiding her gaze and tried to hide yourself with your hands.

Your movements got her out of her daydream.

" I... I am fine. So... Do you need anything ? How can I help you ? " Larissa offered you one her famous smiles.

" I'm fine. It was you I was worried about. " You assured her nervously.

Larissa raised an eyebrow. " You. You were worried about me ? Me !? "

You silently nodded. " Gomez dumped on you. I thought you would be sad about it. "

The higher girl blinked tilting her head to the side. " What ? No he didn't. "

You sighed. So she didn't know that Gomez was out there dating Morticia. " He came in the Rave'N with Morticia. He kissed her in front of everyone and danced with her. "

Larissa's expression stayed the same. Not even a slight change. " I know. " She simply told you.

Your eyes widened. You just told her that her boyfriend cheated on her in front of the whole school and she didn't blink.

" We were never together in first place. I don't know why everyone kept talking about us being together. " She told you leaning against the doorframe.

You were more confused than ever before, yet, you felt a little feeling.

It was like a spark.

A spark of hope.

You pushed it away immediately.

" I don't understand. " You responded looking up at her eyes with your puppy ones.

She sighed in defeat, of course you wouldn't. Larissa knew you were smarter than most of the students together, but when it came to matters such as this...

Your inexperience was showing.

" Gomez and I were never together. He was just giving me dance lessons. He and Morticia fell in love at first sight. " She explained to you.

You frowned. " Why did you need dance lessons if you were not to come at the dance ? "

Larissa stepped forward and tilted your head upward, locking eye contact with you.

You felt your cheeks burning and your temperature rising.

Your usual 35 Celsius rising slightly at the 35,5.

" Because I intended to ask someone to the dance. " Larissa replied.

You bited your lower lip, movement that did not go unnoticed by the girl in front of you. " May I ask who ? "

Larissa gave you small smile before bending her head down to press a light kiss on your lips.

It was just a little touch, yet you wanted to chase her lips for more.

You pressed your lips against hers and Larissa was more than happy to reciprocate your kiss.

You wrapped your hands around her neck and stepped on your tiptoes; you didn't want to tire Larissa by bending down that much.

However, she had other plans.

She took your waist in her hands and lifted you up effortlessly.

Larissa pulled you inside the room, closing the door behind her but never pulling away from the kiss.

A high-pitched sound came from your lips when she pushed you against the door.

You broke apart to breathe and looked at her light blue pajamas.

Larissa followed your gaze and caught on.

" Just a sec and we can go to the dance. " She said, rushing towards her closet.

You looked at her picking a formal dress from the closet and entering the changing room.

Then, you turned and approached her mirror.

You looked at yourself.

Your gaze falling on your swollen lips.

You couldn't help but raise your hand to touch it as you relived the kiss you shared with Larissa moments ago.

You couldn't believe it.

She was practicing just for you and you repaid her by showering her with disinterest.

Truth be told, you were disappointed in yourself.

But, somehow, just somehow, things worked out.

Larissa got out wearing her dress, some short heels and her accessories.

You refrained from looking at her, feeling the need to do so when she will be fully ready.

She didn't tell you anything while sitting in front of her vanity doing her makeup and hair.

" We're not getting married ya know. You can look. " She suddenly spoke.

You abruptly turned only to look away shortly afterwards.

Larissa chose to tease you as she was looking at you through the mirror applying her lipstick.

" It will ruin the surprise. " You murmured unable not to turn to gaze at her again.

She smirked at you, squeezing her lips and checking on her lipstick.

" You know... Morticia will sleep at Gomez's tonight... You can spend the night here, if you'd like. " She suggested getting up and walking to you.

You frowned at that. " I don't understand. Why would someone do night rituals after a dance ? "

Larissa laughed at your innocence shaking her head.

You were capable of murder, torture and maiming, but had no idea about sex. It was a little funny for her.

She shook her head. " I don't know dear... I do not know... "

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #gwendoline christie #wednesday #principal weems

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pararororurun · 14 days

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Hi, hi!!! I saw you have an inbox now omgggg, can i request mikoto, mido, and john (orekoto) x reader (siblings) just. Handling their sibling that almost committed suicide and has self-harmed themselves? I needed comfort :3

If you can't write for the three of them just pick one of ur favs! Thx for ur service and 👋 (i think u know me :3)

Kayano Mikoto, John, Midokoto & Reader

Summary : the worst thing to happen ended up happening.

Note : this is like. REALLY long. Maybe longer than usual idk that's rlly up to you guys

──────────────────────────────

Mikoto :

"Are you feeling any better?" He said as he hands you some warm tea.

It's been a few days since you.. You know. The first time Mikoto saw you distressed was probably the worst memory he's ever had of you. His younger sibling, trying to go beyond the limit of hurting yourself.

The feeling of dread when he saw you starting to limp on the floor, and reaching out to him. That memory playing over and over again in his head while he was waiting for you at the hospital.

He was lucky enough for the boss to let all the workers have a few days of vacation. An odd order from the boss but he took it nonetheless. Imagine his shock when he finds you with a wound on your chest.

Were you okay? And why hadn't he seen the signs earlier? It should've been obvious.. If he truly cared and loved you he would've known why you wanted to do it. He should've—

"Mr. Kayano?" He looks to his side to see the nurse walking into your room. "Please excuse me, I'm here to replace the IV." Mikoto lets the nurse in as she changes the IV.

When the nurse walked out of the room you mumbled to Mikoto about something. Mikoto couldn't hear you the first and asked politely if you could repeat what you said. You apologized, for being such a 'burden' and making worry so much.

Out of nowhere, he embraced a hug with you as he tried to comfort you. "Don't say stuff like that.. You're still young. You haven't discovered yourself fully, and there's probably a lot of things that's stressing you out."

"I'm sorry for not seeing the signs earlier.. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you.. I'm sorry I'm always working late hours. I should've spent more time with you, everything's so stressful right? Let's just forget about it. What matters is now."

You hugged him back and cried into his shoulder, apologizing. He soothe your worries and apologized back, and tells you how you don't need to worry about 'those' things anymore. Everything will be alright.

──────────────────────────────

John :

It's been a few days and you were finally discharged from the hospital. The doctor gave you some medication, to which you were a bit skeptical of, but he assured you how it won't cause further pain for you.

When you returned home, the smell of curry filled the entire house. At first, you thought your mother was home, and rushed to the kitchen to find your brother cooking in the kitchen.

You walked over to him and asked when did he get home, and why he didn't pick you up when you were discharged from the hospital. He turns around to look at you before realizing you were there at all.

"Oh, sorry. I wanted to come pick you up, but I got a call from the doctor telling me that you already went home." He stops cooking for a bit. "How are you." He went to the fridge and opened it, giving you a bottle of water.

"Sit down. It took you a while to get here didn't it? So you should rest first." You followed his suggestion and sat on the couch. Going back to the house didn't feel as relieving as you thought it'd be, maybe it's because mom wasn't here.

But there's no way you'd be upset over that. Sure mom isn't here for a bit but she's definitely arriving home earlier, I mean her child was just out of the hospital what mother wouldn't want to see their child then?

.. Right?

"Here." He puts a plate of curry and rice down at the table in front of you. "Eat up. You're going to need it after everything." His tone of voice sounded a little harsh, but his words were.. Nice? Maybe? You don't know.

He sat beside you as you ate your food. The quiet atmosphere was a little awkward, and you expected your brother to start talking more, but even he looked puzzled on how to start a conversation.

After a few minutes of silence, he opened his mouth and asked you a question. "Is there... Anything you want to tell me?.." You look at him confused while still eating your food. "You know, since you've uh, did that.. I was wondering if there was something you wanted to talk to me about. How is it going with mom? Are you two doing well?"

His voice sounded uncertain, as if he was asking himself if it was that was the right thing to ask. Then, your eyes started to swell, and tears were starting to build up in your eyes. You were about to cry, before stopping yourself and wiping the tears with your sleeve.

'Mikoto' noticed how you've hesitated on answering and looked down, he tried to look at you in the eye only to be met with the sound of you sniffling. He quickly grabbed onto your shoulders to make you look at him and see tears already running down your face.

"What... What happened? Why are you crying?.." You try to shake away from before he let's go of you, realizing how accidentally strong his grip was. "I'm.. Sorry. Did I hurt you? Did I say the wrong thing?.." You shake your head and told him how he's done nothing wrong, and that you were just 'sad'.

His eyebrows furrowed as he remembered his question from before. "Is it mom?.. She didn't do anything bad to you did she?" His voice started to sound slightly irritated as he finished his sentence. Why did he make it sound like he'll hurt mom if she did do something bad to you?

You told him no and gave him the actual reason on why you decided to do it. He looked at you in disbelief and kept on asking you on why you didn't tell him sooner. He saw how uncomfortable you got and backed away a bit, apologizing briefly.

"If there's anything wrong.. Just tell me, tell 'us'." He emphasized the us to you loudly, as you got confused. 'Mikoto' just sighs and hugs you quickly, before holding onto your shoulders.

"Listen. If anything happens, don't be scared to tell me. I'm your brother, no matter what kind of situation you'll be in I will always help. Do you get that?" You hesitantly nod your head.

"Good. Now go to sleep, I already cleaned your bedroom." You felt a pang of guilt stab your chest as you realized you left all the hard work to 'Mikoto'. Before you could apologize 'Mikoto' turned his head at you and glared. "Don't even think about apologizing."

You kept your mouth shut and walked to your bedroom, leaving 'Mikoto' in the living room alone.

"Jeez those two are exactly the same." John muttered under his breath.

──────────────────────────────

Midokoto :

You slept on your bed, yet your eyes were still awake. You fluttered your eyelids from time to time, it felt so surreal. You nearly ended your life, and now you're here sleeping in your bed like nothing happened?

No one was at fault, really, it was just you. It's always been just you. Mom isn't usually home, since she's always working from day to night. Mikoto also works out side the city, you didn't even know he was home, you thought he went back to his apartment to continue working.

Don't even start with dad, that guy left the family like it was nothing. He was too busy with work and couldn't always be there with the family? Bullshit. Nothing but a two-faced bitch who's willing to make empty promises to his childre—

"Hey, you there?" A knock was heard coming from your bedroom door. It sounds like your brother but not exactly?.. You tell him to come in and he opens the door, strangely his bangs were shaped differently, like it was trying to cover one of his eye.

You brush off this 'new' look your brother had and asked him why he knocked on the door. "Was trying to check if you were asleep or not, turns out you weren't. It's 12 am you know? I don't think someone who was just discharged from the hospital should be awake at this hour."

You groan and tell him how it was because he knocked on the door when you were about to close your eyes. "No I doubt that. Even if you were about to sleep you wouldn't be able to hear the knock since you sleep like a log."

You ask if that was supposed to be an insult to which he replies by shrugging and sitting on the side of your bed. Now that you were awake you didn't know what you should be doing now. I mean your brother is just sitting on the side of the bed saying nothing.

What has been going on with your brother? He's been awfully quiet for the past few hours. You wouldn't be too surprised if he saw a cat got run over by some- "it's a weird feeling huh." You look at him, his back facing you.

You ask why. "Well, your life nearly ended, but you're just here trying to sleep. Is it not an odd feeling?" You stare at him for a while before staring back at the ceiling. "Sorry. Too harsh?" He looked through his shoulder to see you wipe your tears.

"Ah, right. You're.. A little bit more sensitive than 'me'." When you finished wiping your cheeks you look at him in confusion. He phrased the sentence really.. Weird? Maybe you're weird.

You both sat in silence. "Didn't 'I' tell you to sleep? You should sleep now." There's that weird phrasing again. He ruffled your hair before standing up, be looked back at you, smiling. "Don't sleep too late, you don't want to miss breakfast do you?"

You tell him okay, he nods and walks to the door, walking out and closing it behind him. You watched as the door closed, and the sound of silence fills the room, but this time it feels eerie.

Like there's really nothing, just nothing, no one to talk to... No one to feel the presence of.

God.. This is terrifying.

──────────────────────────────

Note : this took longer than I had anticipated. Sorry friends. ALSO THIS WAS SOOOO POORLY WRITTEN BECAUSE I WROTE IT ON SEPERATE DAYS WHICH MEANS I WAS ON SEPERATE MOODS WHICH MEANS MY WRITING STYLE WILL CHANGE OHHH MY GOD

#milgram #milgram x reader #mikoto kayano #bittersweet ending #mikoto kayano x reader #john milgram #john milgram x reader #john x reader #midokoto #midokoto x reader #I have never been more slower than I am today

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dont-look-up-at-the-sky · 6 months

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(reblogging from the toxic yaoi tournament poll) @rabbityshen I've noticed your tags and I'd like to share my thoughts on this, just because you raised a good argument and not to make you change your mind! I hope it's fine!

My point is, while on a first look it could seem that Suzaku and Lelouch started as a sweet and functional friendship, I don't quite agree looking more in depth at their relationship since the very beginning.

They've met as 10 years old when Lelouch was sent as an hostage to the Kururugi shrine. They were sons of the leaders of two nations at the opposite sides of an impending war, so bounded to be enemies by birth.

Now, Lelouch was an already traumatised child, he had seen his mother die and his sister becoming blind and crippled after the attack, then was abandoned and strumentalised by his father. Japanese were no kind to him to say the least—I mean, being secluded in a, what was it, an old shed, with really poor care for the children wellbeing except for the basic needs to make them stay alive because they were useful pawns? He was beaten on a daily basis, insulted and stepped on. He was followed by men who stood by and watched as he was being battered since their job was not to be his bodyguards but only to prevent him from killing himself, damn!, as if it were a perfectly reasonable and contemplated eventuality that no one cared to avoid by providing a bit of support, but just by blocking him from committing suicide if he ever tried! A 10 years old kid.

In a word, he was miserable. And at the very start was Suzaku any different than all the other Japanese? No. He bullied, beated and insulted him. He called him a weakling, he also said to him that he didn't even have the right to address him and speak to him, because he was the son of the Prime Minister and Lelouch a nobody. Sign that he was somewhat aware of the disparity between them and that he was taking advantage of that power unbalancement rooted to those racial differences and political issues that would soon escalate into war. Obviously as a kid he couldn't really understand all of this, he was just mimicking the adults, and let me stress that I don't want to condemn him, I LOVE his character, and if I don't go into a more detailed analysis here it's just because it's not the point of my argument.

What I intend to say is that not only they didn't start "on the right foot", but the premise of their future friendship was already bitter. That rivalry had more serious roots than that of the two usual kids that at the beginning don't get along well. Yes, Suzaku soon regrets being cruel to him, take pity on him and decides instead that he "must protect him". But the fact itself that a child as broken as Lelouch was immediately grew attached to whom until the day before was his BULLY speaks of emotional issues. It's because of Suzaku that he realises that since his mother died he too wasn't laughing anymore, not just Nunnally. He needed that friendship as you need water (pun intended, if you've watched the OVAs :D).

Then the war broke out. They even spent a short time surviving together in the middle of a war-torn country covered in ashes, blood and corpses, a traumatising experience that can really bond two (three, in this case) people in an extremely strong, visceral way. What makes so important the shared memory of that "summer of joy" is that it's been the last glimpse of their innocent childhood before it was brutally stripped from them. If it wasn't for that, it would be almost laughable the level of mutual obsession they have for each other only on the basis of– what, a few months spent playing together and having fun as if they were two normal kids that briefly met on a summer camp 7 years before?

To Lelouch, Suzaku has been his last chance at being still a child when he was already miserable, a light in the dark. To Suzaku, though, Lelouch has been probably a sunset before nightfall, since everything started to collapse for him the moment they met (in this regard, I find it "funny" how Lelouch has been the unintentional cause of it, since him and Nunnally presence was just a trap, a false sign of submission and guarantee of peace on Britannia's part to make Japan lower their defenses. Which is why the sudden attack was so effective. Japan was no weak, actually it was an economically powerful nation (the most) with strong alliances, they've been just caught by surprise).

Then they meet again as 17 years old, they even become schoolmates, but by then they're already denied the chance to truly be just normal, functional friends, since they're unknownly enemies.

To quote Suzaku own thoughts, a pov that takes place BEFORE the SAZ massacre and Euphemia's death, and which proves that deep inside he already knew Zero's true identity (for how long?),

An accident of birth tied you to me as my first enemy, and now… you have become the worst friend I’ve ever had.

:,)))

#code geass #suzalulu #suzaku kururugi #lelouch lamperouge #lelouch vi britannia #suzaku x lelouch

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wito-chan-bla-bla · 2 years

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The Red Thread of Fate

Inspired by this art. (Artist: https://www.pixiv.net/users/57905513).

You are meant for another person, completely another. And Satoru Gojo knew it, saw it perfectly every time you talked to him. But who is fate to argue with the most powerful sorcerer?

Au, where 30% of people are connected to each other by the red thread of fate, which can only be seen when approaching soulmate

Warnings: a little yandere!gojo and light themes of violence

For the first time Satoru found out about the existence of such a thing as soulmate when the groom came to one of the maids of the estate. Gojo then walked down the corridor and almost tripped over a red thread, which was now not hidden from his sight. The boy grabbed the thread and followed it until he found that it connects people happily chatting with each other.

Satoru asked his mother why the maid and some guy are connected by a red thread. The elder Gojo explained that they are soulmates.

–Approximately thirty percent of people on earth have soulmate. They are connected by the red thread of fate, which is visible only when people destined for each other by fate approach each other close enough. You probably see them because of your Six Eyes, Satoru.

–Why don't I have soulmate? Am I not the chosen one?

–In fact, not having a soulmate is not so bad. You are not attached to anyone and you can choose with whom to spend your life.

–What if I fall in love with someone who already has a soulmate?

–Oh, that will never happen, Satoru. The red thread of fate is too strong. Even if you fall in love with someone who already has a soulmate, sooner or later fate will bring people destined for each other together. I'm sorry, but even you can't ignore it.

For a long time, little Gojo was unhappy and sulked, often kicking red threads when he saw them on the street. However, then he realized that not having a soulmate is quite convenient. And let the elders put pressure on his brain, he is free from the need to forcibly meet with someone! How wonderful it is!

Satoru thought so, enjoying his free life, until... he met you.

You were just the child of a sorcerer who was part of a small clan. The man didn't even belong to the main branch, and therefore you were an innocent child who didn't know anything about the games of the "strongest" and just tried to arrange his life.

At first, Gojo didn't pay attention to you. You were just his kohai, an unremarkable sorcerer, why should he be interested in you? Yes, you could make him laugh almost every time you talked to him or went on missions together, but no more. You were just a person who deserves his attention fleetingly, once every few days. No more than that.

The sorcerer began to walk in parks and cafes, looking at couples who have already found their destiny. He saw how happy they were to the point of disgust. Gojo wanted to believe that people without soulmate also live well, but statistics from the Internet showed that those who did not get into the main thirty percent are more likely to be disappointed in life, love, are more susceptible to various mental illnesses and more likely to commit suicide. The lucky ones with soulmate, of course, also had problems, but there were much fewer of them than those who were given a choice.

But then he saw you with shining eyes telling Shoko about how you see your first meeting with your soulmate. You showed her the little finger of your left hand, from which a short and abruptly ending red thread protruded, visible only to your eyes. Ieiri, who did not have a person assigned to her, only nodded and rejoiced that her kohai could rejoice and continue to be a child in this cruel world.

Something hit Satoru.

–Maybe I can't control my fate, but I know for sure that somewhere out there there is a person who will love me anyway! The thought that under any circumstances I will have a person next to me who will take care of me and support me inspires confidence! And I am also so warmed by the idea that fate will send me the most romantic meeting with my soulmate!..

Sometimes the right to manage their own lives did not bring only advantages.

Satoru watched your happiness and did not understand whether it was caused by the presence of a half existing somewhere there or just by your character. When Gojo asked about this, you answered with a smile that made his heart jump:

You continued to chatter without paying attention to Satoru. The sorcerer carefully watched the happiness on your face and realized that he hated it. Why is it so easy for you, a weak sorcerer, to be happy? He, Satoru Gojo, has or will have everything. Is he really missing some half sent by "fate" now?

Satoru left that day without telling you anything. You worriedly asked Shoko to ask if the white-haired sorcerer was offended. The girl brought you good news: the strongest did not hold a grudge against you.

(But you bought him a cake the next day anyway).

Satoru has been watching you for a long time. I watched the power with which you could barely expel the second rank. I watched how you still continue to smile happily and take care of people who were "strangers" to you. He watched and did not understand.

–Hey, Gojo-senpai, I heard you like sweets. I decided to make a chocolate cake with cherries… It turned out to be pretty good, so I want to share it with you!

Satoru looked from dessert to you and back to dessert. He held out his hand, and you put a plate on it, touching someone else's palm with your fingers. Gojo didn't understand why his heart jumped when your cold fingers touched his skin. But he would like it to happen again.

And it happened. He stuffed the whole piece of cake into himself at a time and took your hands with his own, starting to warm them. At first you didn't understand what was going on, and then you smiled gratefully. You didn't even blush. There was only one person for you, and that was your yet-to-be-discovered soulmate.

You were so kind and sweet that Satoru began to get annoyed and envious that fate had not destined such a person for his great one. And if all this kindness is given to a disgusting person whom you will trust, whom you will love only because he is your soulmate? For the sake of the safety of his kohai Gojo, he must find out who fate has bound you to!

He teased you, but there was not only playfulness in his voice, but also... tenderness? Of course, it was tenderness towards kohai. (No).

Well, or he tried to convince himself that he was doing it only for your safety.

By that time, you were his good friend, even if you continued to be an average sorcerer. You kept Satoru company on difficult missions, not understanding why he takes you with him every time, technically a burden, but still trying to absorb all possible experience. Gojo smiled, seeing that you are afraid of another curse.

Satoru easily picked up your thread stretching from your room where you were reading some book. Gojo went ahead, putting headphones in his ears and turning on the music to the maximum, just not to hear his own thoughts saying that the person who is trying to take away your kindness without making any effort should be destroyed.

Satoru had to walk to another city on foot, but for the strongest sorcerer, such a walk was actually not particularly difficult. (Besides, he wanted to be as far away from his sensei as possible with his serious look and shouts: "SATORU, QUICKLY GOT UP AND HANDED ME AN ESSAY, WHY WON'T YOU BREAK THROUGH WALLS FOR A JOKE IN PUBLIC PLACES FULL OF ORDINARY PEOPLE ANYMORE!")

So, Gojo has found your soulmate.

This person turned out to be an ordinary high school student who was sitting and calmly drinking soda with his friends in some park. The guys didn't look like truants, many of them had textbooks sticking out of their bags, as if they had hastily shoved them there to join the conversation. The people sitting on and around the bench looked like a mix of athletes and school nerds, and your soulmate was clearly the most uninteresting mix of the two groups.

Satoru clenched his hands into fists, watching the group of friends from behind the bushes. Your soulmate looked pretty cute and nice, the perfect match for you! And from this thought, Gojo's eye twitched.

He returned towards nightfall, forcing Yaga to strain his throat again. Satoru just brushed it off by walking to your room.

–Hey, (Y/N), – you almost shouted at the whole dorm when the sorcerer suddenly appeared next to you, – how do you imagine your soulmate?

You blinked a couple of times in surprise, not understanding why Gojo is asking this. Usually only Shoko was genuinely interested in your fantasies and maybe even Nanami, who found your enthusiastic voice an island of energetic calm in the ocean of house life.

But in the end, you don't think that Satoru will do anything bad with this information - especially since almost all the students of the school knew that you want to find your soulmate – and start telling your expectations.

Gojo sits and listens attentively, feeling his head start to hurt. That guy was almost the same as you described him! (At least at first glance).

By this point, Satoru cared a lot about you, without knowing the reason himself. At the end of your explanation, he just nodded and patted you on the head like a younger sister. You gave him another sweet smile, and Gojo's heart beat faster.

He left without saying anything.

And Satoru couldn't put up with it.

Satoru started following your soulmate, hoping to find some disgusting trait that would allow Satoru to dissuade you from looking for your soulmate in your free time. But the high school student didn't have anything that you might not like. The only thing you might not like was that the guy wasn't wearing glasses!

Everything else is fine. Your soulmate really was the perfect match for you, sent by fate.

He felt that you deserved better. Yes, that high school student was an ideal option for you, but he himself was not perfect. And who is perfect in this world? Just him, Satoru Gojo.

These feelings... grew so slowly. But with every smile you gave him, with every sweet grape juice and homemade cake, with every friendly hug, with every cry of fright and a request for help, Satoru fell deeper and deeper into the abyss of love madness.

And he didn't mind at all.

When he decided to go against fate, you were finishing school, and he was already working as a professional sorcerer. Satoru continued to communicate with you, protecting you more than before. And everything would be fine if one of the days when you were baking cookies for him, you didn't decide to say:

–Do you think, Satoru-senpai, I will be allowed to take a little vacation after graduation from school?

–M? Do you want to go somewhere to relax? If anything, I can keep you company!

–Oh, thank you, but I have to refuse! I was planning to go in search of my soulmate after the graduation ceremony.

You raised the little finger of your left hand and pointed at the red thread with your eyes. You still didn't know that Gojo could see the threads of fate, so you giggled when Satoru almost dropped his juice.

–I know, I know, senpai. Now you will say that I am too weak to travel all over Japan alone in search of who knows who. But don't worry! I have become stronger over the years!

You snorted contentedly, getting into a fighting stance. Gojo felt that fate was mocking him. He wanted to strangle the person responsible for the red threads right now.

But instead of all the words, the sorcerer just smiled at you and laughed merrily.

–I'm sure you will succeed. By the way, did you know that sometimes the threads of fate do not appear immediately?

–What are you talking about, senpai?

–There are many books about soulmates in the library of my clan. And one of them says that sometimes a red thread can suddenly appear in a person.

–Really? And what is the reason for this?

–Usually with the death of another soulmate, – you shuddered, and Gojo hurried to pat you on the head to calm you down. – But it can also be related to "decisions of fate". It may happen that your ideal partner is actually another person. But don't worry, as long as you have the tip of the thread, you will find your love!

–Thank you, senpai. I didn't know about this, – you pressed your left palm to your heart and smiled broadly. – I will definitely tell my soulmate that I have a very good friend whom he must meet!

Satoru smiled at you, pleased that you easily believed his lies. In fact, the thread of fate could really disappear in the event of soulmate's death. But it cannot be changed.

Gojo patted you on the head one more time before telling you it's time for him and disappearing from the kitchen.

You were left standing in the middle of the room and saying into the void: "What about cookies?.."

Meanwhile, Satoru moved to another city, easily finding your soulmate. He calmly walked home, humming under his breath. Gojo called out to him and the guy turned around to get a punch in the nose.

The high school student clutched his nose, from which blood began to flow. His eyes widened, he tried to ask what was going on, but Satoru continued the fight. Your soulmate had to start fighting back, but he was weaker than Gojo, even if the sorcerer did not use the cursed energy.

Sitting on a beaten high school student, the white-haired man realized that he had finally gone crazy. The phrase about how pathetic your soulmate is flew off his lips automatically. Soon, Gojo got up, kicking the beaten one before heading off.

The books about soulmates in his clan's library were almost completely useless, except for one "but". The old volumes talked about special scissors with which you can separate other people's destinies. And Satoru planned to find them.

It turned out that the scissors were an ancient artifact used by the heads of clans so that their children and strong family members would not even begin to meet with their "weak" soulmates and not "spoil the blood". Gojo spent a huge amount of money, nerves and time to get them by buying them from a collector of similar pieces. But now the artifact was in his hands.

Satoru quietly made his way into your room, as he did all the days before, admiring your sleeping figure. He slowly raised your left hand, running his fingers along the red thread. After rewinding a few meters, he cut off a thread that has no end or beginning, and you winced painfully in your sleep. Gojo had only a minute to tie the thread around the little finger of his left hand, but he managed.

The beautiful bow was now visible to the sorcerer. He smiled madly and happily, which was actually the same thing, looking around at his work. He giggled softly, but immediately covered his mouth with his hand as soon as you moaned in your sleep.

The white-haired man began to slowly move backwards, checking whether the red thread was following him. It kept stretching like you were his real soulmate. Satoru chuckled contentedly once more before teleporting away to his room.

Sitting on the bed, the sorcerer looked at the bow, which should disappear in a few weeks, turning into just a ring tightly enveloping his finger closer to the knuckles.

This was the worst part of the scissors method. A knowledgeable person will immediately understand that Satoru destroyed the happy future of two people… But Gojo didn't care. Because he believed and always will believe that you will be happy only with him.

Now you will be with him and only with him... forever.

He appeared before you only at the graduation ceremony. You raised your pure and innocent eyes to him in surprise, slowly lowering your gaze to your red thread. It led straight to Satoru, who was smiling with one hand in his pocket.

You couldn't see, but his eyes were filled with happy madness. He opened his cage-like arms wide as you ran to hug him.

#gojo x reader #yandere!gojo x reader #yandere!gojo #satoru x reader #Jujutsu Kaisen #yandere!satoru x reader #x reader #soulmate #soulmate au

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shiftytm · 20 days

Text

Realized I can post anything so

Junkie timeline ‼️‼️

//CW for mentioned: Drug addiction, Faked suicide and mild amounts of angst (putting here just in case)

-Junkie is a normal dude, hanging on by a thread after being fired from their job with rent due. (Fired because chronic pain made them bad at job.)

-Junkie hears about the club and the dealer from their shady coworker when packing their stuff from the break room.

-Being desperate and anxious about their overdue rent they decide to go, either they make rent or die trying.

-Dealer is neutral to Junkie at first, only really finds them amusing at their massive lack of confidence and constant awkward smiling.

-Dealer grants them leave when they suffer a gunshot wound upon loosing the second round, the non fatal shoulder one. He finds them pitiful and silly, truly someone the universe finds glee in with pulling its constant sick jokes on.

-Upon being jobless and almost homeless the junkie decides to grab a few things from their apartment and leaves a fake suicide note so nobody looks for them and they have closure so it's not the agony of them just missing. (Police investigation ruled mental illness caused them to commit, body location unknown.)

-Junkie returns to the club, hiding out in the bathroom during the days and challenging the Dealer to buckshot roulette every night so they don't get booted.

-Dealer and Junkie grow to enjoy one anothers company, occasionally playing a card game when Junkie gets badly injured enough.

-Dealer could fully be cruel and follow the rules but the prospect of someone coming back nightly and never looking at him with fear or disgust is too good to pass up.

-Eventually Junkie is missing for three nights straight, the Dealer is worried but doesn't do anything until the third night.

-Dealer searches the club and finds them in a bathroom stall all beat up and weak, he's not too happy the person who plays with him is like this but doesn't show it.

-Dealer just takes them to his hide out deep within the club and let's them rest on his bed. He gives them pain medicine (the good stuff) and continues life as normal besides checking on them every few hours.

-Junkie takes about three days to come to properly, first freaking out they're somewhere unfamiliar before seeing the Dealer and calming down. (Dealer starts crushing here,denies it)

-Junkie explains they got beat up for trying to steal some guys wallet, just so happened that it was the wrong guy that time.

-Dealer thinks they're dumb and sad, forcing them to stay here until further notice. He gives the excuse that he needs someone to watch his guns for security.

-Junkie happily accepts, happy to sleep in a bed and get consistent food for the first time in months.

-Junkie spends the days sleeping with the dealer (like literal sleep, mind out of the gutter/lh), and gets lonely at night when he's gone since they're on temporary ban until further notice.

-Snoops through his bedside drawer out of boredom one night, finds a hand mirror and sees reflection for first time in months (bathroom mirrors were too dirty and cracked, only showed blurry reflection)

-Junkie assesses themself and breaks down for the first time in months, lamenting their old life that was boring but at least normal.

-Blames themself entirely (truly it is their fault even if they were desperate and just trying to get by)

-Dealer comes back and kinda doesn't know how to deal with crying so he just tries to tell them all the things he likes about him, everyone loves flattery.

-Junkie calms down enough, first night they do anything with any level of intimacy (they're hugging and whatever, Dealer is secretly terrified if he did anything now he'd scare them away)

-The two keep growing closer, Junkie gets the temporary ban lifted and all is normal.

-Both develop mutual feelings the other doesn't know about.

-All is well until they receive the eye injury, Dealer is upset because he's afraid he's getting soft when his automatic response is panic.

-Junkie is very much intoxicated, joking about how they can't feel it and it'll be fine.

-An argument is sparked, Dealer snaps when Junkie makes a self deprecating joke about how "I'm not with much more than the gauze you're patching me up with."

-The two bicker and Junkie ends up getting upset despite what they're on. They get taken back to the hideout where they further argue and Dealer ends up pulling the "Because I love you or something okay?"

-Junkie denies it, accusing him of just saying that so he keeps them happy and the two end up ugly making out after arguing in one anothers faces.

-Both feel awkward when they wake up, Dealer tries to move on like nothing happened but Junkie is getting clingy before Dealer leaves for the night.

-Junkie wallows and gets embarrassed, scared that them being vulnerable annoyed the Dealer to the point of kicking them out.

-The entire night is torture for them, making them scared that this is their last day before sleeping in the bathroom again.

-Dealer comes back and finds them panicked and begging him to let them stay, he's confused and decides to do something for them .

-Dealer takes them to the roof of the club for fresh air, Junkie hasn't been outside in about a year so they're beyond thrilled.

-Dealer ponders briefly if he messed up with Junkie, knowing he was the technical reason they stayed here.

-The two kinda just unofficially date at this point, Dealer buys them new clothes so he can take them places (weird bars and restaurants that never seem to have humans)

-Junkie seems to get better with a semi normal life, more lively during Buckshot Roulette and in general.

-They end up relatively happy, unable to win due to the Dealer's massive unspoken insecurity they'd leave but given a few hundred with every round so they can get nice things.

-Junkie runs secret late night games, they don't really loose the Dealer just drags Junkie off and tells the player to go home.

#buckshot roulette #Dealer is heavily implied mammon in this thank you smorsie #Junkie is like cosmically lucky #buckshot roulette oc

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xxaraaq · 1 year

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𝘽𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧

Sorry that I didn't post anything for like three months, but it dont matter anymore, cus I'm here now

MILF! Ochako Ururaka x Black!Fem!reader

┍━☽【❖】☾━┑

At the ripe age of thirty two, Uruaka Ochako would consider herself to be a great mother. But with her boys, nine, seven, and four – she’s so fucking tired. Tired of not being able to catch a break, tired of not being able to live her life as a young woman, and really fucking tired of having a man child of a husband who couldn’t give less of a shit about her and their kids.

She’s tried to be okay with it, but she just cant be. But when she voices it, all she's met with – ‘it’s not like he's cheating on you, he probably just doesn’t find you attractive anymore.’ or ‘just lose some weight or offer to do more, he’s obviously distant for a reason’. And she’s tried all these things, so, so many times. But nothing ever worked, so she’s just given up. And maybe she just had shitty friends, but the two of you first, she had actually felt something.

“So wait – you're telling me that you haven’t had sex in how long?” You whisper, choking on your drink “Eleven months.” She sighs, taking a drink of her mimosa – she hadn’t touched her husband intimately in almost a year, and it was getting to her. She was getting antsy, and she was getting tired of pleasuring herself on her own.

“I would commit suicide, like, actually kill myself. Are you ok?” and Uruaka knows that she’s not, but there isn't anything she could really do.

“I’ve been so stressed out that I don’t know what today is, I’m not even joking.” She says, the fatigue apparent on her figure

“I seriously don’t know why you won’t get a divorce, I will literally move in with you to help out with the kids if that’s what it takes.” And your serious, the look in your eyes directed right at her

“If I could just get one day, that’s all I would need.” She groans, dreaming of the day where that happens

As the conversation goes along, her husband, m/n, comes up. “Hey honey, me and the boys are gonna go watch the game at Mikey’s house. I’ll be back later.” He says, turning away soon after. With an eye roll and shooing hand, she sends him off with malice in her heart.

“He really gets on my fuckin nerves.” You say, side eyeing him as he walks away with his friends.

“I genuinely don’t care anymore.” Ochako says, getting up to go to the kitchen

Following after her, you close the door behind you, pulling down the blinds

“What’s wrong?” You say, opening your arms for an embrace

“I am so sick of him.” She says, a shake in her voice

“I know baby, I know.” You say, rubbing soothing circles on her back

“I get that he doesn’t care about me, but can he at least fucking act like it.” She cries into your chest

“He doesn’t deserve you, not like I do.” and she knew it was true

“Lemme make you feel better, how bout’ that?” You ask, pulling back from her

“W-what?” She, wiping the tears from her face

“You heard me, Ochako. Let me help you, you need it.”

The both of you know that anyone could walk in at any moment – but that didn’t stop you from kissing her – nor did it stop her from kissing you back. By the time she gained her senses back she was in her shared room.

“We can’t, everyone’s outside.” She says in between kisses

“We already are, and who cares, no one’s gonna come in here.” You shush her, attacking her neck with hickeys

She moans, grasping your hair in her hands – she doesn’t know why she keeps denying herself, she can’t even remember the last time she came by someone else’s touch.

“Fuck.” She moans, the feeling of your hands traveling over her breasts driving her mad.

You pull down the top of her light blue sundress, exposing her front to you.

“So pretty.” You groan, capturing her breast in your hand, rolling her nipple in between your fingers

Ochako whimpers at the feeling of your fingers toying with her, her getting wetter by the second.

“Take it off for me, yeah?” You ask, tugging at hem of her dress

Nodding, she quickly strips down, throwing it to a random spot in the room.

“So fucking gorgeous.” You utter, hands finding rest on her hips

“Don’t be weird.”She says, wrapping her arms around neck

She kisses you – passionately – as you lead her and yourself onto the bed. You suck on her neck as you make you way down to her thighs, lifting one onto your shoulder.

“Can I?” You ask, playing the fabric of her underwear

“Don’t ask me stupid questions.” She groans, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you smile

Taking her answer as a yes, you pull her panties off onto one ankle, licking a slow stripe up her slit. You rub slow circles on her thighs as you continue your assault on her cunt.

“Ohhhhh fuckkkk” She whines, throwing her head back in her ecstasy

“Tastes so good.” You mutter into her, the vibrations of your voice going straight to her core

She doesn’t know why she hasn’t let you touch her sooner – the fluid movements of your tongue making her delusional. But the best part is, all she has to do is sit there and take it.

You massage your thumb around her puckering hole before inserting two into her. “Shitttt” she mewls, holding both her legs up to her chest

“I can’t, s’ too much.” She slurs, her legs shaking as you slurp and suck up her excess

“You can do it mama, cum for me.” You say, moving your fingers in and out of her at an even quicker pace

“Shittttttttt” She screams, squirting onto you and the sheets

“Damn, I didn’t know you could squirt like that.” You say, licking her off of you

“I, I didn’t know either.” She exhales, letting her legs drop onto the now wet sheets

“Uh uh, why’d you let go.” You say, rubbing slow circles on her now puffy clit

“W-wait, we can’t keep going, everyone’s still outside.”

“And they’ll stay outside, I never said I was done with you. Eleven months is a long time y’know; I can’t let go now.” You explain, Entering her once more

Ochako moans as she thinks about what she got herself into. And she really, really hopes that everyone knows exactly where the bathroom is.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

Yayy I post. Dont expect me to post until summer now byee.

-Nene

#Nene #boku no hero academia #urakara ochako #bnha ochaco uraraka #mha ochako #x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x fem reader #mha x black reader

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murphyismz · 5 days

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TW I TALK ABOUT HOW I USED TO BE SUICIDAL HERE

ok hi people who follow me. and hi irls LOL this is so awk to post (not rlly) but also this is the platform that the least irls follow me on so.

it has been almost one year since the last time i tried to commit! which might be like “wow that was so recent” and also “good god it happened enough that there was a most recent time” but shut up and let me talk

i have not gone over 6-8 months without being hospitalized since fall 2021? i think? so this is a massive fucking milestone. fingers crossed but 2024 might be my first year since i was 15 or 16 that i stay out of the hospital all year. like wowza

to be quite honest i still have very bad days when i have bad ideation and even more often are the days when my depression tries to trick me into ideation (by like telling me i should be suicidal idk u know how sometimes anxiety is like gee what if you thought of the scariest thing ever rn and then it makes u scared. its that but depression)

but like i dont act on these at this time. i sit and clench my fucking teeth and i let it pass. i force it to pass. i want it to pass.!

so anyways. i am proud of myself for this. i have been dealt a shitty hand (like not in the grand scheme of things of course but in my relative terms) and i am trying to cope and things are looking up for me!

anyways um. just sappy i guess. i am glad i am still here. i cannot imagine myself before all of the people ive met and things ive done this year. ive hit very bad points but ive also just felt so much. i love you all (i love me also)! yay me! yay life! happy one year ish to trying to live !

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aita-blorbos · 9 months

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AITA for ruining the cumulation of my father's lifetime of work and the chance for a better world?

My [10F] father A [~30M] and his 'partner' B [~30M] were part of a scientific research group lead by an extremely charismatic preacher I'll call C [~30F], whose primary goal was to try and help out a lot of downtrodden people in our city and ultimately fix the extremely unjust political and socioeconomic situation here. C believed that everyone in the city had a "disease of the mind" - I'm not paraphrasing, this was what she called it - and that by delving deep with experiments into the human collective unconsciousness, her group would be able to discover a way to release this "light" into the world and empower people.

I can't overstate how charismatic C was - everyone who met her loved her and believed in her cause. One of her closest followers was K, who was essentially a one-woman PMC and an incredibly feared name in our city. I also do have to establish that I didn't exist at this point, so a lot of the details here are secondhand, but they're important.

As progress slowed down, the research group began experimenting on humans - all volunteers, at least initially - but when they had trouble finding enough people for it, a homeless boy [E, ~9M] who'd essentially been adopted by the entire research group volunteered himself and died. C then committed suicide; supposedly she was 'overwhelmed by despair' but I don't know if I believe that. At this point, A took C's place as the head of the group and decided to keep trying to follow her mission the best he could. A few members of the group died at this point for various reasons - one [J, 20-30F] tried to help with research that was way too advanced for her and ended up dying, causing one of her colleagues [R, 20-30M] to spiral into paranoia that wound up killing him. Another colleague [V, 20-30M] volunteered for an experiment that might resurrect C but ended up as a vegetable on life support when it didn't work.

One of the junior researchers [M, 15-20F], who was the second youngest person there after E & E's best friend [L, ~9F], finally cracked under the pressure of what the group was doing and reported them to the top authority in our city. That company ended up sending G [??F] to investigate, who destroyed the research facility and killed everyone there except A and B. During this, K managed to almost fight G to a draw; K died, but G was almost dead.

A and B then performed brain surgery on G to extract any information she had about how to avoid the company that sent her; to stabilize her, they placed her brain in a mechanical body. They determined the best way to avoid that company would be to become one of the 24 major companies that work with it... but there were no open slots available for a new company to step up.

At this point, B started a war for A. This is not exaggeration. People call it the 'Smoke War' now, but it was so traumatic that many of the veterans involved can't talk about what they saw and experienced to this day. This ended up causing one of the 24 companies to close, and A & B' had already founded an energy company to replace it, based on their old research group. I was born around this time. When A saw I looked like C but did not remember or act like her, he refused to treat me like a human being in any way, although B was kinder to me.

A and B had also figured out at this point how to pull off C's original plan - or what they understood to be it, anyway - which would be to spread self-actualization through the entire city by having people work through it on personal scale & generate massive amounts of energy. As part of this, A wrote a "script" for the main facility of his company that I was made to direct; R, J, K, V, E, L, M, G, and a few other people had their memories mostly wiped and they were placed into mechanical bodies that would oversee departments of the company. The goal was that, if enough energy was collected and each of these people was able to self-actualize with help, their knowledge and experience could be sent to the entire city and people could improve their situations. In order to get enough energy before the company that had originally sent G found out, they made a deal with companies who had figured out how to compress and loop time, meaning that the scenario could play out as many times as needed until the unknowing "actors" finished performing the "script". A himself wiped his own memory so that he wouldn't have preconceived notions about the "actors". (B eventually decided this had gone too far, but he was too in love with A to kill him, and attempted to run away. At this point, I was also forced to "kill" B and place him into a mechanical body like the others.)

I was made to unwillingly antagonize these people in order to carry out A's "script", to a degree that many of them still resent me for. My job was to make sure they had personal breakdowns so severe that working through them was cosmically significant. I was also forced to work as the amnesiac A's secretary, who did not know or remember his relationship to me. Every sentence I said to everyone was scripted; I was not allowed to make my own choices.

Anyway, when all the energy was eventually collected, before it could be fully released to the city to allow people to... something, I interrupted it and took the energy for myself. Releasing this energy would have killed everyone remaining in the facility, including me and R, J, etc.; we were intended to sit back and patiently await an eternal sleep. This was the first time I had been allowed to choose my own actions essentially ever, if it matters.

AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality #suicide mention

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whileiamdying · 7 months

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Remembering Maria Schneider, the Star of “Last Tango in Paris”

Photograph by Jack Mitchell / Getty

In a new book, translated by Molly Ringwald, Maria’s cousin recalls the fame and turbulence that followed the release of Bernardo Bertolucci’s controversial film.

By Vanessa Schneider

April 13, 2023

Did you know, Maria, that you were almost not cast in “Last Tango in Paris”? You weren’t Bernardo Bertolucci’s first choice. Legend has it that he originally wanted to do a story between two men before quickly abandoning the idea. He was a hot director at the time. His film “The Conformist,” from 1970, which starred Jean-Louis Trintignant and Dominique Sanda, had been a great critical success. With “Tango,” he wanted to show the dark side of the sexual revolution, exploring sex and psychological violence between two people in a Parisian apartment: a run-down forty-five-year-old man named Paul, whose wife has just committed suicide, and a young woman named Jeanne.

In the beginning, the Italian director went to Paris, hoping to re-cast Trintignant and Sanda as Paul and Jeanne. Bertolucci recalled that Trintignant turned it down, saying, “In your film, they’re having sex all the time. Sorry, but I just can’t go nude.” Sanda was pregnant and declined the offer as well. Next, Bertolucci tried to meet with the two biggest actors in France, Jean-Paul Belmondo and Alain Delon. Never the type to waste time, Belmondo refused to even see him. “I don’t do porn films,” he said. Delon’s response was more ambiguous but classic Delon—he said neither yes nor no. Bertolucci’s casting process broke down. And then someone suggested Marlon Brando. The mythic actor of American cinema was older and heavier than he had been in his prime. A string of commercial flops had placed him in the category of Hollywood “has-beens” and he needed cash after having purchased a Polynesian island, which had turned into a money pit. He didn’t know it yet, but his comeback was just on the horizon, percolating in the desire of two young filmmakers—Francis Ford Coppola, who thought of him for the title role in “The Godfather,” in 1971, and Bertolucci for “Tango.”

The first meeting between Brando and Bertolucci took place at the Hôtel Raphael in Paris. Bertolucci described the project to the American actor as the story of a man and a woman who renounce their social identities and only communicate carnally, through their bodies. Brando told him that he wanted to first watch “The Conformist,” so Bertolucci set up a screening for him the same day. Afterward, Brando invited the director to his home in Los Angeles, to discuss the film in detail before the shoot in Paris. The actor agreed to play the role of Paul in exchange for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and ten per cent of the film’s gross—a significant sum of money at the time.

The director first caught sight of you in a photograph with Dominique Sanda, who had become a friend of yours. His Parisian friends tried to talk him out of casting you. “Everyone said that she’s just a girl who spends all night dancing at Castel’s,” he recounted years later, referring to the Parisian night club. “No one saw in her what I saw, something wild behind the androgynous body with the enormous breasts.” At one point, before you started filming, he asked you to have breast surgery to “re-do” them. You refused. It was your sole act of rebellion. From then on, nothing would be asked, only demanded.

You hesitated to do the film at first, you later admitted, since you “didn’t totally understand the script,” though you did recognize that it was daring. Your agent swept away your reservations. “You can’t refuse a leading role opposite Marlon Brando!”

You’re nineteen years old, still a minor, about to embark on one of the most scandalous films of the nineteen-seventies. Your mother had to sign the contract on your behalf so that you could accept the role.

The first scenes you film are with Jean-Pierre Léaud, the favored actor of Truffaut and Godard, who plays your fiancé and an aspiring filmmaker. Bertolucci didn’t want to put you face to face with the icon right away, fearing you would be intimidated.

When you do meet Marlon Brando for the first time, it’s on the Pont de Passy, just as you’re about to shoot the film’s opening sequence, where your characters cross each other on the bridge. You find it funny that he’s wearing lifts in his shoes and think, Oh, he’s not as big as all that. There’s a childlike sweetness you perceive in him as he initiates small talk with you. He asks you what your zodiac sign is.

“Aries,” you tell him.

“Me, too,” he says. “Rising?”

“Libra.”

“We’ll get along just fine,” he says, “which is good, because I believe we have a few intimate scenes. . . .” He gives you a kiss on the cheek, as a father would give to his daughter.

Your first real scene with him takes place in the apartment. Any doubt about the nature of the film is immediately gone. For the sex scenes, or any scenes with nudity, Brando requests a closed set and Bertolucci complies, making the set off limits to anyone not directly involved with the film. Photographers and other onlookers wait on the sidewalk every day for the actors to appear. Some even rent apartments across the street, hoping to get a shot.

Gossip spreads throughout Paris that the Italian director is making something risqué and disturbing.

Brando imposes rules and conditions for everyone involved with the shoot. He does away with the usual hierarchies of film production. It’s out of the question for him that the crew should eat less well than the actors. During breaks, he offers drinks and sandwiches to everyone, paid for out of his own pocket. “He respected all people,” you later say. “No matter how big or small. . . . I’ll always remember him as generous, a man of integrity.”

Brando goes back to his hotel every day at 6 p.m. and refuses to work on the weekends. Bertolucci doesn’t object. For you, however, there is no such reprieve. You film take after take until midnight, and on Saturdays you film with Léaud. It’s more brutal than a marathon. By the end of the three-month shoot, you’re drained and exhausted and you’ve lost twenty-two pounds. The crew often finds you in tears. Some try to comfort you with a word or a look; others say nothing, pretending not to notice. She’s lucky, this little unknown, sharing the screen with the great Brando. . . . She doesn’t get to complain. Once you dare protest to the director: it’s too much filming, fourteen hours a day, every day. You later tell me that Bertolucci responded without even looking you in the eye. “You’re nothing. I discovered you. Go fuck yourself.”

The Italian director knows that he is making something volcanic—as captivating as it is incendiary. The crew members must have been sworn to secrecy. The pairing of you and Brando works well, and Bertolucci is jubilant. The girl is docile, he thinks, and the actor brings his wounds to the role with an intensity beyond the director’s wildest dreams. Brando gives him advice about camera placement and actors’ performances. Bertolucci is fascinated by the experience of this Hollywood giant. You observe their dynamic, intrigued, watching as Brando asserts his authority. At the last moment, you are brought in to shoot your scenes. Eventually, Bertolucci barely speaks to you, only to Brando.

The director is fixated on the cinematography. He wants the film to be orange, the color of the seventies—of hippies, of the California sun, of Indian spices. The first rushes are reassuring; they have the tint he’s looking for, but he’s not quite satisfied. In the apartment, with the shutters closed, it seems that he still feels there’s something missing—some climactic event that can push the film beyond what would be considered merely audacious.

One morning, Bertolucci takes Brando aside and suggests a scene that isn’t in the script. The men agree that nothing should be said to tip you off—that it’s better if you are taken totally by surprise. Did you sense a particular atmosphere on the set that day, see complicit looks among the director, actor, and crew? Or were you too tired by that point to question anything? Who thought of the butter? Was it Brando, Bertolucci, or both?

Rolling, action . . . . You and Brando are lying on the floor, dressed. Suddenly, Brando turns you over, roughly pulls down your jeans, and, grasping a mound of butter in his hand, he shoves it between your legs while thrusting his pelvis against your backside. You fight, you scream and cry. It’s impossible to escape; Brando’s body is pinning you to the floor. Bertolucci keeps the camera trained on your anger and terror. There’s only one take. It doesn’t last long, but for you it’s an eternity. Brando releases his grip and you scramble up, staring at the two of them with murderous rage. In your fury, you destroy the set. After, you go to your dressing room and remain prostrate for hours. The director couldn’t care less; he got what he wanted. He couldn’t have dreamed of better. “She raged against me, against Marlon, against all men,” Bertolucci would comment years later, remembering the scene.

You come out of the filming shattered, sensing this one scene has marked you forever, like a bad tattoo you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to cover up. It doesn’t matter that the sodomy was simulated—it makes you feel dirty and violated. You don’t understand that you could’ve prevented this scene from appearing in the film, since it wasn’t in the script that you had agreed to. You could’ve called a lawyer, filed suit against the producers, and made Bertolucci cut it, but you’re young, alone, and poorly counselled. You know nothing yet about the rules and regulations of the film world. The perfect victim.

Rumors swirl preceding the film’s release. It’s the return of the great Brando! A beautiful, provocative newcomer lights up the film! Bertolucci has really gone too far! At the French première, a few weeks before Christmas, people rush to find a seat. During the opening sequence, a malaise settles over the audience. Jean-Luc Godard storms out after ten minutes, furious and outraged, yelling, “Horrible!” You’re waiting outside the theatre and don’t hear him. You’re probably wearing jeans with boots and a coat that’s too thin to keep you warm. You pace and stomp your feet to prevent them going numb, smoking cigarette after cigarette, listening to the muffled noises coming from the screening room. At the end, the audience departs the theatre in embarrassed silence. They pass by without looking at you.

There’s only one person who approaches you: the actress Jean Seberg. She’s fourteen years your senior, as fair as you are dark. You’ve seen her in Otto Preminger’s “Saint Joan,” Godard’s “Breathless,” and the Romain Gary films. You don’t know it, but the two of you have Marlon Brando in common. It was her admiration of Brando that made her decide, at twelve years old, to become an actress.

Seberg, the American icon of French New Wave cinema, looks different. Her face has been ravaged by a series of sad love affairs and a chronic depression that she attempts to drown in alcohol. She divorced Romain Gary, and two years before the release of “Tango” her baby daughter, Nina, died. In September, 1979, after multiple previous suicide attempts, her naked body will be found wrapped in a blanket in the back of her white Renault, on a street in the Sixteenth Arrondissement.

It’s the first time you’ve met her, but she wraps her arms around you and holds you tight against her chest. She’s small and bony like a malnourished child, but the warmth of her body feels familiar. She buries her face in your brown curls and whispers in your ear, “Take care of yourself.”

“Last Tango in Paris” comes out in theatres on the fifteenth of December, 1972. It fails to pass the censors and receives the rating “forbidden for anyone under eighteen,” which only piques the public’s curiosity. Immediately, it becomes the preordained object of scandal. Catholics mobilize, and a complaint is filed in Italy, which the far left views as an affront to freedom of expression. “Tango” becomes the latest symbol in an ancient fight between the guardians of a certain moral order and the defenders of the artist’s right to create—the wet blankets versus the squeaky wheels. An Italian court condemns Bertolucci, Brando, and you to a two-month suspended prison sentence. Copies of the film are destroyed.

For Bertolucci, the controversy is a triumph. His film has succeeded in garnering the passionate response he desired. It’s discussed in bars and restaurants, debated by artists as well as by elected officials. It’s forbidden in the dictatorships of the Soviet Union and Franco’s Spain. Democracies, on the other hand, make a point of defending it. The film is released in New York in only one theatre, where tickets are sold out weeks in advance. It’s your first taste of success, but you stay on your guard. It’s hard for you to know what to think when you are as likely to be booed as you are to be showered with compliments. You’re twenty years old.

Meanwhile, just as your career is taking off, Brigitte Bardot, a friend with whom you’ve been staying, announces that she will retire. She’s had it with films. From now on, she wants to devote her life to animals, insisting they are far better than humans. You don’t bother to try to talk her out of it, since you know there’s no changing her mind. She goes on to say that she’s moving to Saint-Tropez, where she vacationed with her family as a child and where she filmed her great success “And God Created Woman.” When you leave her apartment on the Avenue Paul Doumer, you’re not sure where you’ll go next.

The release of “Tango” is an explosion whose shock waves consume you within a couple of weeks. Nothing has prepared you for what’s coming. The insults on the street, the aggression, and then, conversely, the adulation and the fawning. Doors suddenly swing open, offers come from the directors everyone is dying to work with. There is suddenly too much of everything in your life, too much desire, too much temptation, too much violence and criticism. With the wild grasping of someone drowning, you fall back onto a clichéd pun to explain the excesses of your behavior. “Il vaut mieux être belle et rebelle que moche et re-moche.” (“It’s better to be beautiful and rebellious than ugly and ugly again.”) It’s delivered with a sardonic smile, like you only half believe it.

Since the press has portrayed you as a wanton muse, you play the assigned role. You will be as electric and without boundaries as what’s expected of you. Your first public statements whet the appetites of the gossipmongers. A girl who has grown up too fast, who still has the bloom of youth, taking aim at everything. As a journalist now, I shudder when I read the interviews. You settle the score with your father, the actor Daniel Gélin, with all the rage and sadness of a neglected child. This father who took so long to acknowledge you, who now, as his film roles dwindle, cozies up to the smoldering fire of your success. You take him down with an assassin’s precision: “A bitter man jealous of his own son.” Your famous co-star fares no better. “The Brando myth? Whatever! . . . He’s obsessed with getting old and pays special attention to his makeup. Every morning, someone had to go get him; otherwise he wouldn’t come. He’s also lazy and slow. He never knew his lines; he just improvised. Between takes he went back to his dressing room, supposedly to ‘center himself’ . . . Marlon is temperamental, a big drinker.” I can easily picture the journalists laughing nervously, unsure how to respond.

The press can’t decide what to make of you—whether to love you or to hate you. Feminists wage war over the film. According to them, it goes too far under the guise of sexual freedom. Pointing out your youth—the apple cheeks and the look of confusion in your eyes about what’s being asked of you—they wonder whether what was captured on film was not art but abuse. They underline the nearly thirty-year age difference between you and Brando and note that in almost every scene you’re naked while he remains clothed. And then there’s the infamous sodomy scene. Some sense genuine protest and suffering in your cries.

In our home, we don’t speak about the film. The first time I hear anyone mention it is on the playground when I’m five or six years old: a group of kids laugh and yell, “Pass me the butter!” At first, I pay no attention to them, though what they say confuses me. They repeat it, day after day, and I don’t know why. Finally, I ask my mother about it.

“It’s because of the film,” she snaps, annoyed, then quickly tells me not to worry about it.

This scene becomes your cross to bear. For your entire life, you will have to endure unsavory jokes and cruel pranks. Once, in a restaurant, a waiter asks, with an obnoxious wink, whether you’d like some butter. On an airplane, a smirking flight attendant puts a pat of butter on your plate when you haven’t asked for any. In Rome, where you are filming René Clément’s “Wanted: Babysitter,” you’re insulted on the street. More than once you are physically attacked. Faced with seemingly endless questions about it, you hide your pain behind a forced laugh and respond with a quip: “I only cook with olive oil.”

As a child, I keep everything about you in a red plastic folder, the kind with the two rubber bands angled at the corners to keep it closed. Inside are photos of you that I’ve torn from magazines, along with interviews and press clippings from your films. I’m in elementary school, and I collect everything ever written about you with a perseverance that borders on obsession. I beg my mother to entrust me with the pictures of you at my age, along with your first drawings, and I decorate the folder with star-shaped stickers and rainbow glitter. On the front of the folder, I glue a black-and-white photo of you from a newspaper. In the picture, your cheeks are round, your smile radiant. I cover the picture with Scotch Tape to safeguard it from age, a childish attempt to protect you from life’s contamination.

On the rare occasions that I open my red folder in front of friends, I receive looks of bewilderment and suspicion. Who is this supposedly successful actress whom no one’s ever heard of? I’m suspected of lying, of inventing a famous relative to get attention.

Over the years, as the file grows, I notice with disappointment that each piece I collect has less to do with your films and more to do with the turbulence of your personal life. The features and reviews are replaced by tabloid stories with salacious headlines. As I get older, even these articles begin to disappear, and there’s rarely anything new to put in the red folder. Occasionally, you have a role in the kind of low-budget international film that’s sure never to be released in France, but you’re no longer considered for lead roles, and after a while you cease to interest even the journalists. Like so many others of your generation, you join the troop of discarded stars, rejected by a new era that has no place for rebels. You’re no longer the celebrity of my childhood, the one strangers recognize on the street with a frisson of excitement and envy, but you remain my special cousin for whom I harbor a tender and morbid fascination. A precious, broken family jewel, hidden away in a secret drawer.

I keep the red folder at our family’s house in the French countryside. The old farmhouse is a repository of memories. In a room that’s ostensibly my father’s office (although I never saw him work there), he keeps the archives from an extreme-left Maoist political organization to which he once belonged. There’s also a collection of drawings, some by you, thrown together in colorful disarray, alongside stacks of the very first issues of Libération, the left-wing newspaper founded in 1973 by Jean-Paul Sartre and Serge July, where I will later work as a journalist. The farmhouse suits you: wallpaper with big orange and chartreuse flowers, patched furniture, salvaged objects. There’s a sprawling, overgrown garden, which during my childhood was regularly transformed into a hippie haven, a place where men and women dressed in tunics gathered around a campfire and strummed guitars while smoking enormous joints. It seems the perfect place to keep the folder safe.

Throughout my adolescence, I keep track of the red folder—a testament to your former glory. I read and reread the fragments of your life. I don’t always recognize the girl in the stories that the press chooses to tell. They are half-truths, approximations, fantasies, and some blatant falsehoods. But, even so, there is usually some element of truth. A young girl ravaged by an explosive public début.

In a profile from Elle in 1972, the journalist Marie-Laure Bouly, perhaps in an attempt to reconcile the public’s fascination with Maria Schneider and the scandal of “Tango,” begins her article with a systematic evisceration of the movie: “A crude film that further pushes the limits of just how far is too far.”

She goes on to describe you as both a capricious child and a femme fatale, dressed in a dramatic fur coat bought at Kensington Market in London. You’re free-spirited—too free. The journalist doesn’t seem to have found much to sink her teeth into, so she sprinkles her feature with quotes of yours taken out of context, which she doesn’t bother to explain. Then the story comes to an end with the sudden departure of its subject. Bouly concludes: “Maria Schneider is always on the go—already well on her way.”

Every time I visit the house in the country, I perform my ritual of taking the red folder out of the drawer to examine its contents. As the years pass, the smell of dust grows stronger. The photos fade, and the paper begins to erode from the humidity. One day, I can’t find the folder at all. It seems to have vanished entirely. I’m heartbroken. I can’t shake the feeling that the folder—the pride and embarrassment it brought me, its comforting omnipresence, its gradual, eventual disappearance—somehow represents you. Once the folder is gone, I know that one day I will write about you. Not the story that you would write, which belongs only to you, but ours. ♦

(Translated, from the French [Tu t'appelais Maris Schneider], by Molly Ringwald.)

This is drawn from “My Cousin Maria Schneider.”

#The New Yorker #The Last Tango in Paris #Bernardo Bertolucci #Marlon Brando #Maria Schneider #Vanessa Schneider #Tu t'appelais Maria Schneider #Molly Ringwald

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kob131 · 1 year

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I dunno why I’m doing this at 2 AM but fuck it. You guys get to deal with it on main.

To the people saying that RWBY handled suicide poorly, I better see you decrying Gurren Lagann’s depiction of depression/suicide yesterday.

So, from what I can gather, people’s issues with how the Ruby-Tree plotline is-

1. It ‘trivializes’ suicide by having Ruby come back from it.

2. Made the rest of RWBY look uncaring

and 3. Resolved Ruby’s depression too quickly.

However, I find that when holding these examples up as universial signs of a bad depression/suicide arc, people should be bashing Gurren Lagann., specifically episodes 9-11 (the aftermath of Kamina’s death).

1. While it is true that Simon doesn’t commit suicide in this arc...that is very much the undertone of what is happening. Simon is throwing himself into combat constantly, talking about living up to Kamina all while Lagann is shown to be losing power as Simon fights. The thing is- Spiral Power is basically the will to live and thrive. It’s the energy of evolution made manifest. If Simon is throwing himself into combat while losing the will to live and thrive-

You can basically see it as Simon attempting suicide out of guilt.

Yet Simon recovers from this just like Ruby does. In basically the same fashion with the same themes and the same arc. Yet no one complains.

2. This is were the arguments starts looking REALLY bad for Gurren Lagann.

Weiss and Blake both tried to cheer up Ruby when it was evident that she wasn’t feeling well, with Blake trying to cheer Ruby up after her outburst in the Paper Pleaser’s village. And Yang tries no less than twice to help her sister, once after Ruby regains consciousness and once after her outburst after meeting up with Jaune again.

This is three more attempts to help Ruby than Team Dai Gurren tried helping Simon after Kamina died.

I’m not joking. If you go through Episodes 9, 10 and 11- You will not find a single moment where a member of Team Dai Gurren tries to comfort or talk with Simon. The most you will get is Kiyoh scolding Kittan for saying Simon caused Kamina’s death and throwing that in Simon’s face. You will find them showing more concern for Nia, someone who they’ve all just met, than the brother of their beloved leader who watched as the closest thing he had to family die.

Oh, remember when people got onto Jaune’s case for throwing Ruby’s failures back at her? Yeah, Kittan did the exact same thing but worse...and unlike Jaune, never admits he was wrong for doing so. He even tries bossing Simon around to interrogate Nia, who has done more for him in like...a day than Kittan has done since Kamina died.

I mean, Rossiu tries to help. But both times he shows concern for Simon, someone from Team Dai Gurren stop him from helping. One is Yoko, who above everyone else should know Simon needs help but does nothing for him until arguable the end. And the other is Leeron, who outright says that Lagann is right for not helping Simon if he lost the will to survive (more suicide parallels...) with the implication that they’re also right in doing so.

And they both end the same way- with the parties showing gratitude and happiness at the hero’s return. ... Except in Gurren Lagann’s case, Yoko takes this moment to take a jab at Simon’s emotional speech. Which should be seen as massively insensitive and also very fucked up of Yoko given the circumstances of Simon’s recovery.

There is no way to escape this. If what WBY and Jaune did was some horrible crime that makes the show disgusting then Team Dai Gurren’s actions are beyond horrible and Gurren Lagann is beyond disgusting.

Yet no one complains.

3. The argument is that you can’t get over depression that quickly and resolve it therefore Ruby’s big return is a spit in the face.

... The framing, plot beats, execution, musical choices and even themes are all almost exactly the same in Gurren Lagann. It’s the same trope, using the same methods, following the same themes- It’s the same. Damn. Story.

Hell, even the argument that it makes no sense for Ruby to just get over inadequacies because of a story about Summer applies to Simon because it’s implied HE recovered from Yoko’s story about Kamina. It’s actually worse in Gurren Lagann because unlike with the Blacksmith in RWBY, Yoko knows what the problem is, is around for the whole arc and personally knows Simon. And yet she never brings this story up beforehand? Even as Simon gives his side of the same fucking story and just sits there looking sad?

By this logic, the ENTIRETY of Gurren Lagann should just be one massive failure because the anime is DEPENDANT on this scene working (as everything before it was just working up to this point and everything after is built on it).

And yet.

No one.

Complains.

And I know what some of you are thinking.

‘Well, it works in Gurren Lagann because that anime’s good and RWBY bad!’

Well, quality doesn’t work that way. Writing doesn’t become good because it’s in a show labeled ‘good’- a show is good because the writing is good.

You also can’t apply different standards and arguments for different pieces of media. If X depicts suicide and depression badly then ALL depictions of suicide and depression like X’s is bad.

And as someone who loves Gurren Lagann more than RWBY- it should be considered worse than RWBY. The differences between them are either semantics (giving up on life is basically suicide) or make Gurren Lagann worse (Team Dai Gurren’s, especially Yoko and Kittan’s actions).

I know that this isn’t the case since I know what Gurren Lagann is going for: that Simon had to stand back up by himself to get that catharsis. That Team Dai Gurren were meant to be wrong but still human in their actions and that Simon’s instant recovery is meant to be glorious return by the true hero of the story as he asserts his development and his lessons.

But the same analytical skills tell me that RWBY’s depiction is also not offensive or even bad. So if I’m wrong on RWBY, I have to be wrong on Gurren Lagann.

So you better either start bashing Gurren Lagann and it’s depiction Simon. (Which is basically paint a giant target on your back) or shut it about RWBY.

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ayvi · 2 years

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Hint: Y/n as a character's senpai (Dazai, Chuya, Atsushi, Akutagawa, Rampo)

Dazai Osamu

If Osamu considers you his "senpai", then this is already a huge achievement in your life. Dazai always strives to show himself in all his glory. In short, he builds a perfect guy in front of you, but if it still works on other girls, then you know perfectly well that this is a complete show-off and you tell him about it directly, but this is Dazai. Will he, having heard such words, retreat from his own? Of course not! Therefore, not only his charm and innate attractiveness are always used, but also his childish character, with which he tries to either soften you or melt your cold heart with his puppy eyes, which shout "Senpai, please notice me" or "Senpai, give me your attention." And so it is every single day. And moreover, the former mafia always wants to be with you. You go on a mission, he's with you, you go to lunch, he's with you, you go home, he'll take you. Oh, yes, he's also always looking for praise from you. He wants you to stroke his hair and tell him he's smart. And it doesn't matter what he did, saved the world, wrote reports or didn't try to commit suicide for 30 minutes

Chuya Nakahara

Chuya is radically different from his former partner. He does not build puppy dog eyes in front of you, does not beg you to pay at least a little of his attention and does not run after you with a tail. However, he still tries to be the best in your eyes, to show you how good he is. So he constantly goes on assignments that he tries to do perfectly. He always gets praise from his boss for his efforts, but not from you. All he needs in life is for you to praise him for the work he has done, say that he is doing well. For this, he is ready to at least become a partner with Dazai again, and this is a huge sacrifice from the outside Nakahara. As I said earlier, he does not make cute eyes in front of you and does not beg for attention, but still with embarrassment he always tells you "Senpai, please praise me!" or "Senpai, why am I worse than other mafia workers?". Although he may rarely be a little rude to you, saying that he does not need your recognition, but by doing this he tries to hide his jealousy, because he does not really like the fact that you pay more attention to others than him.

Atsushi Nakajima

Atsushi is a very nice and calm guy. He is not one of those who almost throws himself at his senpai's feet and begs them to recognize them or praise them. But still, he would be over the moon with happiness if you said what a great guy he is. For him, this is the highest reward. No money, no letters, none of this will replace your tender words to him that he did a great job. However, he, too, in some way looks like a lost kitten, always follows you with his tail, but this is not in order to attract your attention only to his person, as Osamu does, but because he worries about you. No, he does not doubt your abilities and powers, but still there is some residue of anxiety. Of course, you tell him that there is nothing to worry about, but he always tells you the same thing with an embarrassed face, "Y/n-senpai, I don't want anything to happen to you, so let me be near you." It's a real miracle that I can say more about this.

Akutagawa Ryunoskees

lf Akutagawa considers you to be his "senpai", then it's better for you to move to another city, and it's better to immediately go abroad, change your appearance, gender, first name, last name so that relatives don't find out, and he even more so, and all this is because he won't leave you alone. You're kind of second to him Dazai, only 2 times no, even 5 times better. He just craves your recognition, like Dazai go to the next world. Akutagawa is just always there for you to show himself in all his glory at any convenient moment or situation, to show that he is the best of all and all for the sake of you saying one phrase about how well done he is. Ryunosuke, of course, doesn't make cute eyes for you, it's not in his nature and he thinks it's stupid. But, like many others, he also calls you "senpai", but he uses this word as a suffix to your name "Y/n-senpai", although he is very often embarrassed when saying it. Also very jealous. He doesn't like it at all when you spend more time with others or praise someone else. He can even be compared to Higuchi in some way

Rampo Edogawa

Another seeker of attention and your praise. Rampo is also in some way a big kid looking for your attention to his person. And no matter how he does it, he follows you everywhere with his tail, whines that you don't appreciate him at all and a million other similar things. For Edogawa, the opinion of his "senpai" is always important, even if it may not be entirely correct. In his eyes, you're just a goddess, an angel, a fairy or something like that. And just like the others, he wants to earn your praise for him. And he does the same with you as with Fukuzawa, starts working only when you praise him or promise to do it after he completes a particular task. And after you say that he is smart and well done, he will walk for a long time with a smile of a Cheshire cat and a satisfied look, his "senpai" praised him. And by the way, he also always uses the word "senpai" as a suffix to your name, which in his opinion is a more gentle and affectionate address to you, and especially if he asks for something, for example, "Y/n-senpai, can you go on a mission with me today?" Or "Y/n-senpai, I will do your errand if only you praise me. Do you agree?". In a word, a cunning fox.

#bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bsd atsushi #bsd headcanons #chuuya nakahara #bungo stray dogs #dazai osamu #atsushi nakajima #atsushi x you #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa ryuunosuke #rampo edogawa #bsd rampo #bsd edogawa rampo #female reader #Reader #hedcanon

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x0401x · 2 months

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I think I've said this before, but I always reply to asks. No matter how long it takes. In this case, it took me a year. I can barely believe it. The way that grad school and living in Tokyo completely sucked away my free time is surreal. To be honest, I was expecting this, but I was hoping I'd be able to get back on track sooner. Words can't possibly express how sorry I am for the truly ridiculous delay.

Okay, now without further ado...

So, episode 11. By this point, it’s clear that the anime is trying to convince us that Eisuke is single-handedly guiding Tsujimine to the top. This unintentionally disregards the other members of the team and relegates them as nothing more than his less important supporters. That’s the same kind of narrative suicide that season 1 committed, except with Seiya instead. In S1, Seiya is the only character with a personality, basically because his canon personality is butchered and he’s turned into an amalgamation of other characters’ good traits, plus some weird yandere shit that the screenplay pushed onto him. The narrative makes him a participant of just about everything that happens, while dimming down everyone else, even the very protagonist of the story. It’s clear that KyoAni (read that as director Yamamura) couldn’t handle giving the spotlight to one character at a time and making them as rich and colorful as the original work, so they decided to invest all of the good stuff into just one character and make the fandom obsess with him. Which failed miserably, but we all already know how that went.

In the case of S2, this pattern is a little worse, even. The other boys of Tsujimine are barely there, and whenever they’re there, it’s to make Eisuke’s character shine through, never their own. And when it comes to team performance, almost like the team consists of just Eisuke, as if they’re part of the team only because there aren’t five of him. He’s basically a genius who does everything - he’s an individual archer, a team competitor, the team leader, the club counselor in place of their teacher who knows fuck-all about kyudo, and a coach, since their team has none. And he excels at all of that, which is not only unrealistic but also contradictory. It’s unrealistic because, like all Zen types of martial arts, kyudo takes experience and experience inevitably requires time. There’s no way a high school kid would be on the same level of knowledge and skill as certified practitioners and be able to look after four people while simultaneously doing his own practice. This is literally unheard of in the history of kyudo. And it’s contradictory because it was established in earlier episodes that Eisuke was taking advice from his uncle for coaching Tsujimine, so how come the story just forgot about this and started branding Eisuke as the one and only patron saint of his team?

In the book, Eisuke manages the team coaching by filming practice, showing it to Shigeru and getting precise advice every day, which he follows by heart. The team coach is actually Shigeru, not him. He’s also not the team counselor, and although he’s the most proactive member, the thing about Tsujimine is that they’re not a conventional team. All the boys have very outstanding personalities - one could even call them self-centered -, to an extent where it doesn’t seem like there’s an actual leader in the team. Everyone is just doing their business and none of them are particularly close to each other, but when it comes to kyudo, they all trust one another and nobody tries to meddle with each other’s way of doing things. Against what appearances might suggest, harmony comes naturally to them. This is something very unique of Tsujimine and it’s sad to see this dynamics ruined.

Other than that, this is one more example of the anime treating kyudo like a sport. Everyone keeps fawning over Eisuke, even people from other teams, and telling him that he should be proud of himself for his achievements. I could argue about how unnatural it feels to see teenagers behaving like that all the fucking time, but I don’t think I have to. And it’s all the more ridiculous when it comes to anything Zen-related. Being proud isn’t the point. Achievements aren’t the point. There’s no point but enlightenment. KyoAni seemed to be making an extra effort to show respect towards kyudo this time around in the first episodes, so I really wish they could’ve nailed this, but it’s hard to take the story seriously when it fails to understand the most basic thing about its core theme. So many things in this anime are such a blatant “don’t worry about it” that I have lost count, especially about the fundamental elements of kyudo.

Most important, though, is that this “Eisuke is God” thing is a disservice to Minato as a character. And I’m not even talking about the fact that Eisuke, the character who was supposed to be the “bad guy” of this arc, is getting more background story and emotional investment from the narrative than the protagonist himself. I mean the fact that he’s being given a role that was supposed to belong to Minato in the near future. Yes, I’m talking about his career plan to become a Shinto priest and a kyudo coach. It was set up from the very beginning in the novel. Throughout the whole story, we get glimpses of him already being on the path for that by being the kind of person who inspires others to shine their own colors. He gives prep talks to Ryouhei and Kaito, acknowledges Nanao’s efforts and lets Seiya indulge in his patience and forgiveness. He also gives people advice, like with Manji when he was about to get target panic. A lot of people seemed to interpret this as Minato being savage, but it was a candid warning. In volume 3, though, we get to see Minato actually do something very close to coaching. The way he encourages Hikaru in the most non-obvious, roundabout and abstract manner possible is exactly how kyudo coaching should be. He never tells Hikaru to do anything, just says things that might sound vague, but actually mean to stir Hikaru’s spirit. The pacing of this scene is kind of a mess and its contents might be confusing for some (as Zen always is, to be fair), but what Minato does in it is honestly beautiful. He doesn’t even seem to realize what he’s doing; he just does it (very Zen of him, as usual) and it hits home. It’s a glaring sign from the author that he’s a natural at this (again, can’t get more Zen than that).

All of this careful build-up is wasted in the anime, given that Minato’s “natural talent for realizing people’s needs and spilling pearls of wisdom onto them” is now Eisuke’s in the show. I might sound harsh here but I gotta spill the beans on this particular load of bullshit: the anime lowkey hates its own protagonist. The one thing I thought KyoAni could’ve learned from last time was to stop giving other characters’ roles and personalities to whoever the director decided to pick as fandom darling for the season, but I guess this was too much to ask once again. Still, as you guys know, my motto for S2 is “disappointed but not surprised”. I do realize everything that’s wrong with it and don’t like it, yet I maintain what I’ve been saying since the beginning: I’m taking what I can get. It’s a miracle that a sequel even exists, anyway.

More bullshit ensues as Eisuke is confronted by Seiya by the toilet. It’s kind of amusing to see the anime finally try to portray Seiya as his own person in this season, only to do a full backtrack and put him again in the one-dimensional condition of “caring about nothing but Minato”. It’s also kind of weird to see Eisuke going through the trouble of attempting to pick a fight, especially when it concerns Seiya, whom he has no reason to hold contempt for. He resents Minato and Shuu because Saionji took them in as disciples when he (she, in the anime’s case) wouldn’t take him. What’s his reason to be a prick to Seiya, even when unprompted? It’s never explained or implied. The scene itself apparently has no reason to be there other than to imply that Eisuke attacks people because he’s putting up a front, as shown from the toilet mirrors and the composition of the shots. In putting up a front, he’s keeping himself from moving forward, which thankfully aligns with canon.

Then the dialogue shoots itself on the foot by suggesting that Seiya is moving forward because he sticks to his weird obsession with being Minato’s guardian.

I could talk about how obsession is a negative point for anyone who practices any Zen martial art and that the anime is once again treating kyudo like a sport here, but I’d just be repeating myself. What annoys me here is that the show continues to miss the point about Seiya. Sure, he’s a caretaker by nature and he worries about Minato more than anyone else, not just because Minato is his best friend, but also because Minato is a dumbass and a catastrophe magnet. But from the moment he and Minato have The Talk in volume 1, his attitude changes drastically. He’s a mother-hen but he’s got a life outside of Minato. He’s his own person with his own problems, like a normal person would be. By turning Seiya into a Minato-hen, the anime makes him feel unnatural and forced. Even Ichikawa Aoi’s line delivery is stiff as hell here. It sounds like fiction, and it’s not supposed to. This is a slice-of-life.

And so, after wasting half an episode with this boring repetition of information that goes absolutely nowhere, we finally move on to what matters. Or what should matter: the goddamn tournament.

It’s not a ganglion but a broken nail in the anime. The brief moment of Minato assuring that everything is fine and the one where he helps everyone regain their composure are the closest things that the anime gets to portraying him faithfully. Minato isn’t the glue that keeps everyone together because there’s no such thing in any of the teams in Tsurune, but he is very much a force of nature in it. He stirs things up and makes shit happen. I dare say he’s as much of a source of inspiration for the club as Masaki is. But it lasts for only a few minutes before Yamamura’s bias steals the spotlight again. It’s amazing how everything is about Seiya even when it’s supposed to be about the whole team. And by “amazing” I mean it makes me want to rip my hair off. In order to keep my sanity from flying off the nest, I tried to distract myself by keeping count of how many times Eisuke has said or thought the phrase “Tsujimine will win as Tsujimine”. It’s been three or four times, just in this episode.

Speaking of Tsujimine, I’m losing my mind at how the way it’s depicted far surpasses the way Kazemai is, from an artistic standpoint. The way the flashbacks are perfectly timed, the watercolor explosion, the fact that Shigeru is watching it from the hospital in real time… it’s such a stark contrast to the bad water CGI from the Kazemai side. Everything connects just perfectly. The show wants you to cheer for them and not Kazemai. I maintain my point from waaay back ago, but KyoAni (again, read that as director Yamamura) has next to no interest in Minato. It doesn’t dive into him, doesn’t explore him beyond surface level and is not invested in making him captivate the viewers. By extension, the same happens with Kazemai. The creators clearly find it to be a boring club, completely blind to the fact that they’re the ones that made it boring.

Anyway, this is my take on episode 11. Now here’s a bonus: a review of the movie.

Being back home for the summer means I finally, at long freaking last, got to watch “Hajimari no Issha”, since it was not on Netflix or Chrunchyroll. I wrote down my thoughts about it as soon as I watched it, which was about half a year ago. If this isn’t a testament to how little free time I’ve had for the past year, I don’t know what would be, lol. It’s surreal how long this has been sitting untouched in my iPad notes. As compensation and apology for taking so goddamn long to post the remainder of my reviews on S2, I’m leaving this here.

First of all, I’m happy that the glow-up in the art style actually began with this movie and not really in S2. The extra scenes are clearly animated better than the recap ones. The contrast is ridiculous. It honestly had me torn between “wow, thanks for the consideration” and “so you really could’ve done better from the beginning and decided not to, huh”.

I’m also happy that it humbly offers bits of information and character development that we’d been given in the novel up to that point but were left out of S1 (well, at least the part of it that doesn’t contradict the anime, which is a lot). Minato’s mother, the time when he and Seiya were going to the same grade school as Ryouhei, young Masaki and his grandfather, etc. Many things we were supposed to have had in S1 are here.

The first parts go back and forth in time, but the initial content is new. New scenes, new dialogue, but still with a certain degree of deviance from the source material. The funny thing (it really ain’t funny at all) is that the deviations mostly don’t have a reason to be there. Hardly any of them have anything to do with the alterations made in S1. Thankfully, they’re small and not very significant, just minor bothers.

But if they’re so unimportant, then why do they bother, y’all may ask. Well… because they’re constant reminders of how much KyoAni doesn’t get this story. Or its characters. Or (yeah, it’s getting old, I know) Zen.

First one was the way Minato got into archery. So I guess anybody who read the novel has been able to tell, but the characters kind of stand on a ladder when it comes to how enlightened they are. Masaki is at the very top, of course, and right bellow him are Minato and Shuu. As the author’s bias - I mean, the one who’s closest to the Zen-Buddhist ideal of enlightenment, Masaki found his way to archery without any reason. He had contact with it even before he became aware of his surroundings; it happened naturally, as if that was just the obvious way to go about life for him (and it was, in a sense).

As the not-so-close second, Minato got into archery in the same way as Masaki: by sheer coincidence (just happened to be present at a kyudo ceremony) and influenced by a loved one (his mother). They also were inspired by the same person (Akihiro) and fell in love with archery at the very same place (Yata Shrine). The difference is that Minato decided to pursue archery consciously, unlike Masaki, who was just doing it before he even realized it, as though he’d been born already with a bow and arrow in hands. And that was that. It’s simplistic and pure and the peak of innocence. It also defines the whole story because this shared beginning, translated in the form of Akihiro’s tsurune, is basically what ignites Minato’s whole world and connects him to everything and everyone he loves. And then comes his mother and her past doing kyudo, which adds fuel to the fire but it’s not really what kindles it. Because then that’d be just ordinary and not as Zen as what the author was going for.

Second alteration that I noticed was the rubber mountain rat that Masaki gave Minato, which in the anime is a rubber ball with a mountain rat mascot printed onto it. As I’ve mentioned a thousand times before, saying that S1 was lackluster and wasteful in terms of Masaki’s teachings and his relationship with Minato is a gross understatement. I’m glad KyoAni tried to make up for that here by giving him a little more spotlight being an actual coach, not just teaching the bare minimum and fucking up. The mountain rat is given quite a bit of importance in volumes 1 and 3, as well as everything else that Minato receives from Masaki, so I guess KyoAni can no longer pretend that these things don’t matter. Except the timing wasn’t the best. In the novel, Masaki gave the mountain rat to Minato when Minato hadn’t yet joined the club, and there’s the whole subplot about Minato being haunted by the things Masaki gives him and does for him, because he’s afraid he’ll lose Masaki at some point. But the opportunity to explore it has long been missed.

Something else that is very different from the original is the way that Seiya is being portrayed as similar to Masaki. This is also a thing in the drama CDs and promotional audios for S2, for some reason. Yet in S2 this is thrown out the window and Masaki is portrayed as similar to Shigeru instead. KyoAni tries so hard not to make the right comparison it’s hysterical.

Speaking of Masaki as a character, it’s always amusing to see the many ways that KyoAni misses the mark about him every single time. It’s literally impossible to understand what they’re trying to do with him. One example of the many incoherences in their depictions of him (aside from trying to brand him as similar to two characters who are completely different from each other, with neither of them being the characters that he’s actually similar to in canon), is the scene where Ren calls him a narcissist. ‘Cause that’s totally the number one quality of a priest. I lost my mind at this one. Where do they pull this shit from? When did Masaki ever act that way, even in the anime itself? Are they just throwing words around? Make it make sense.

There’s one fleeting moment where Masaki is compared to Minato in this scene. Except it’s not because of their personalities or form, but because of the target panic. And Masaki doesn’t really appreciate that. Yeah, that’s definitely the same Masaki who decided to take on teaching because he saw himself in Minato, especially due to the target panic. Who knew exactly what to do and how to help him because of his previous experience. Who puts prayers into everything he does for Minato so that Minato will overcome it as soon as possible. That Masaki.

“Don’t know her,” says the show.

Most frustrating of all is that this happens because Ren says kyudo is overly complicated for something that’s “all about hitting or missing” and Masaki retorts with, “Yeah, but that’s what makes it interesting”, which prompts Ren to joke, “Said like a true narcissist” before Masaki elbows him. This is a nod to volume 1’s “The way of the bow is steep, but that’s what makes it interesting”, but by God, does it backfire in the worst possible way. He could’ve just said that kyudo isn’t about hitting or missing. Actually, the last thing kyudo would be about is hitting or missing. Hitting and missing don’t fucking matter. Masaki is the last character who should be saying this, considering that he’s not only the best archer of the club but also that the literal reason why he and his grandfather started fighting was that Akihiro accused him of only caring about hitting the target. This isn’t western archery. Get your own culture right, I’m begging you.

Breathe in, breathe out. I’m fine. We’re fine. This movie… isn’t fine, but S1 was by far the worst offender. Second place is S2. And none of these three are in the same ballpark. This wasn’t exactly good but it also wasn’t bad.

On the positive side, I like the care and detail that was put into this production as much as I like the care and detail put into in S2. Despite everything I just said, KyoAni is definitely paying a lot more attention and respect to the original from this movie onwards. Is it enough? Absolutely not. But it’s something.

Like the first shot of S2, for example, which is a throwback to the scene of Akihiro adjusting himself into his draw. The camera angles are identical. This is a very nice and well-thought detail not just for the sake of parallels, but because of something Tomio says in volume 3: that an archers’ form tends to resemble the one of their teacher. He comments that everyone from the team resembles Masaki a lot when they shoot, which indirectly means that they resemble Akihiro too.

I also really like that they gave Minato’s mom a little more screen time and lines. I’d almost forgotten that she was voiced by Matsutani Kaya ‘cause she barely ever talks in the other two titles. But it would’ve been for naught if she hadn’t been put in her rightful place as a big influence in Minato’s life. Especially the bicycle scene. It’s kinda obvious that this one was both a metaphor for kyudo and for life.

That’s about it. There wasn’t much going on in this one. It feels like bait to rile up the fans for S2, because it was, to be very honest.

#tsurune #kyoani #kyoto animation #tsurune tsunagari no issha #tsurune hajimari no issha #narumiya minato #takigawa masaki #takehaya seiya #fujiwara shuu #nikaidou eisuke #onogi kaito #yamanouchi ryouhei #kisaragi nanao #fuwa koushirou #fujiwara sae

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