#also because whichever interpretation speaks to you as you read the story

[yuhenglesbian]

The naming of ‘Oshi no Ko’ is so so clever. I'm sure people have talked about it already but every time I think about it I am so genuinely impressed at Akasaka's cleverness.

The most direct translation is of course "My Idol's Child". It reflects the surface-level view of the story so well: An isekai-esque story about a man who has been reincarnated as the child of his favourite idol.

But then you have "The Girl that You Support". And it really lets you see the whole story as something you must unravel as a reader from the point of seeing Aqua's and/or Ruby's and/or the rest of the characters' actions as manifestations of the desire to love and to be loved.

Especially because "��" in Japanese isn't just used for the girl child — it isn't a gendered term to the best of my knowledge. "子" is child, so the title may also read as "The Child that You Support". And it is the story of children — or people who have been children — who haven't been supported wholly, and who are looking for ways to support each other.

Whether it is Ruby and Aqua's desire to avenge Ai, who was barely an adult when she was killed. Whether it is Aqua's own fears about the women in his life, all of whom are in the showbiz and his attempts to make sure they are protected even at the cost of him being harmed. Whether it is Akane's willingness to go wherever Aqua goes because she wants to share the burden of his pain, or the way Arima doesn't leave the revived B-Komachi until she is sure that they will be alright without her. And even the smaller singular arc-limited instances: Yuki choosing to calm Akane who is having a breakdown and later the entire Love Today cast being immediately onboard with saving Akane's reputation.

Throughout the story, the children consistently step in to protect each other when the adults have shorthanded in or are unwilling to do so. Over and over again, the horrors of the industry everyone is placed in is touched upon through a child/teenager in the business and as a viewer, you are made to witness these horrors and the way it impacts them.

Everything about the story is so very well done, it almost makes me a little ill. It's so very brilliantly thought through.

[one-million-kruge]

my six of crows hcs

I need to read Crooked Kingdom but I can't for at least another week and it's killing me so take this very self indulgent list

Kaz Brekker

-He finds it really hard to apologize so he literally buys a gazillion super expensive gifts for whichever Crow, refuses to elaborate, and walks away. Matthias is mystified by this.

-Kaz hates emotional attachments with people because he could easily lose them like he lost Jordie, so he made them with his cane and gloves instead.

-For a while as a coping mechanism, Kaz legitimately treated 'Rietveld' Kaz and 'Brekker' Kaz as two different people. When he was triggered by something or other he told himself it was Rietveld messing with him.

-He researched Saints so that he could know and understand Inej's religion, even though he had no obligation to. He also pretends he hates hearing her talking about it but just hearing the passion in her voice makes Kaz happy.

Inej Ghafa

-Similarly to Kaz, she has emotional attachments to her knives because after her time at the Menagerie it became really hard for her to trust people.

-Inej learned how to walk silently at the Menagerie because she needed to sneak around in order to get stuff she needed to survive, whether it be food or something to stitch herself up with.

-She enjoys being on the sea because it gives her a sense of freedom similar to how acrobatics made her feel.

-Inej has never once pitied Kaz, just felt anger for what others (*cough cough* pekka rollins) had done to him. Every time she sees him panic she feels a mixture of sadness and pure rage.

Jesper Fahey

-Jesper has a diary because he feels emotions in a very big way and he needs some way to get them out. He hides it under his bed and let me tell you it is bright pink.

-When he is stressed (often) he plays with his guns. Like, safety on, but he flips them around in his hands and whatever because it reminds him of his mother and her memory makes him feel safe.

-When on heists, Jesper legit takes any opportunity to wear high heels. There is no need to. The Crows make fun of him for it. He does not care.

-Jesper is typically very fidgety but whenever he's near Wylan he's just automatically much calmer. Wylan is like Milo for his stress but better. It's even better when he's touching Wylan in some way, shape, or form.

Wylan Van Eck

-If Wylan hears a phrase or saying or something of the like that he thinks is nice or cool, he writes it in musical notes (similarly to how he labels chemicals and such) and tacks it up on a wall or something.

-When he was younger and his father would use horrible tactics to try and get him to be able to read, he just took it and assumed it was normal because he didn't have a frame of reference (not being able to read books or make friends very well). Some days he felt he deserved it.

-Wylan loves symbolic art because it's a way for him to take in a story without having to read it. He loves making up interpretations of symbolic paintings and connecting unrelated ones into a continuous story.

-He is really not assertive at all and finds it hard to read the room, so Wylan always asks Jesper before he does anything affectionate. He sometimes gets embarrassed about it, but Jesper always reassures him that it's very cute and sexy of him.

Nina Zenik

-Nina is bisexual (canon) and in terms of her preferences she finds women to be hotter, but she loves men beyond physical attraction more often. Whenever people try to tell her that she's straight because of that she either punches them or knocks them out for a few minutes depending on how she's feeling that day.

-Nina loves fucking with people by speaking a language to them that they don't speak and then gaslighting them into thinking that she was speaking the language they do speak.

-She is like the #1 hype squad for Inej, and it's literally the only thing that Kaz and her can agree on. They literally get into compliment battles but they're complimenting Inej.

-Nina finds it hilarious how actually innocent Matthias is, so sometimes when they speak, she makes progressively more lewd innuendos to see how long it takes for him to catch on.

Matthias Helvar

-Matthias is super gullible and will believe almost anything someone tells him unless it is far too outlandish to be true. The rest of the Crows (bar Inej and Wylan) use this to their advantage often.

-Back when he hunted Grisha, everyone else said he was most definitely the least likely to become a traitor but also the most likely to be the nicest to the Grisha. Guess where they were wrong.

-Matthias tries his best to be mischievous and absolutely fails every time. He just feels bad about it and so he immediately apologizes even though all of his "mischief" isn't even that bad.

-Whenever Nina needs anything, Matthias will immediately do it/get it for her. Whether it's getting a book off of a shelf that she can't quite reach or committing homicide, he is always ready and willing.

[atamascolily]

Okay, so I was thinking about this after finishing the final episode last night, and I'm increasingly convinced that Drosselmeyer was fictional all along. Why else would the show dangle the possibility before us, right before Drosselmeyer walks off with Uzura, who was explicitly kicked out of the real world for being a fictional character??

It would explain why Drosselmeyer's design is so over the top, with his peacock hat, salamander coat, and jaws that are disturbingly like a real nutcracker--he's never been fully "real" to begin with. It would explain why he never grows or changes--in his own way, he's a puppet as much as Edel et al, he's just the one pulling the strings, too.

If Drosselmeyer is fictional, it would make him a kind of narrative parasite who attempted to encompass the "real world" through his story-machine, a reveal the show treats almost as an afterthought. It would also explain why he doesn't die when the machine is destroyed, since in theory the machine is what kept him alive and kicking after his physical "death".

If Drosselmeyer is fictional, it would also make me feel better about the fact that he suffers no consequences for his actions whatsoever and apparently learns nothing from his experience with The Prince and the Raven. As a metaphor for being an artist, his ending is great--when the story is over, you pick up and move onto the next one--but if Drosselmeyer is an actual person, it leaves a lot to be desired. Instead, he marches on in search of a new story, and I pity the poor denizens of whichever one he finally latches onto.

I suppose it is also possible to read his fate as a metaphor for death, but that seems wildly unfair to poor Uzura, even though she is, technically speaking, also a ghost.

Of course, the joke's on Drosselmeyer, because ultimately he IS a character--in the anime called Princess Tutu, if not in-universe--so perhaps that aside was a sly tongue-in-cheek reference to that and I'm reading too much into it??

IDK, it's so delightfully ambiguous, and there are a number of different interpretations, but the dramatic irony of Drosselmeyer being fictional himself is delightful.

[ficsforeren]

Girlie, hi. First off, love your works, they’re really good! But I have another question for you. I’ve been reading your stuff for quite a while and can see you hate eremika with a passion, so much so you’re basically discrediting all the foreshadowing and important scenes between them. That’s fine, I get that you’re coping, but how do you interpret chapter 50 and chapter 123 for example. Like, I get theories are cool and all, but there’s a writer and he’s put all these things there for a reason

Hello, baby! Thank you for loving my works ���️ Answering this below the cut so I won't trigger any more people than I already have.

This is also going to be the last time I'm explaining about this again because I'm really tired and I just want to have fun talking about my versions of eren.

EM and Mikasa stans, if you can't handle EH, please don't read this.

I think it's only a matter of perspective? Chapter 50 and Chapter 123 definitely had a romantic aspect to it because Mikasa loved Eren very much. It's supposed to be romantic because she had romantic feelings toward him. But there wasn't any romantic feeling from Eren's side.

When you see the whole picture of their relationship, there are a lot of moments where eren, again, verbally, mentally and physically abused Mikasa. This is the point that I'm having the biggest trouble with because Eren could be gentle. Look at the way he treated Historia. I'm sorry, maybe a lot of people are okay with Eren being toxic around her, but for me personally, I can't ship two characters like that. Eren and Mikasa never had any deep/meaningful conversations. Mikasa had an idealized version of him so whenever he tried to speak up his mind, she would say, "No, Eren, this isn't you." Eren had better chemistry and interactions with Armin, Historia, Reiner and Zeke.

Eren cared about Mikasa like how a brother would love his sister. You are very welcome to disagree with me, darling, you're allowed to ship the pairings you want to ship (and I can do the same) but this is how I see it. Plus:

I mean, Isayama said that years ago. Feel free to disagree, but Isayama had stated multiple times that he changed the original ending. EM was forced to be canon to please his readers. they had no build-ups, everything just seemingly came out of nowhere and Isayama contradicted himself many times just to make their relationship make sense. watch this video starting from 39.09 to know more about what I'm talking about.

I think I would've been completely fine with eremika if Isayama had developed their relationship like how he developed YmirHisu, Eruri or Erehisu's relationships. Isayama knew how to write a subtle, brilliant love stories. These three are the perfect examples, so why couldn't he do the same with EM?

"Like, I get theories are cool and all, but there’s a writer and he’s put all these things there for a reason." I can say literally the same thing to you about every EH panel Isayama has written.

even hange and armin (the smartest people in the show) knew something was going on between them, for example:

but ofc, people would say "Eren is just trying to manipulate historia so she won't interfere with his plan." or "eren cares about his other friends just as much as he cares about historia." and you know what? I don't think isayama would've wasted so many panels and dedicated a whole arc trying to build historia and eren's relationship if that's the case but again, it's only a matter of perspective. it's up to you to decide how you interpret the story.

and that's okay. you have your "what am I to you?" moment, and I have all my "I'm willing to give up my life if that can change something, but i'm not willing to sacrifice historia" moment. we can ship whichever pairing we want.

oh and this moment: https://twitter.com/rreisstoria/status/1495496345976811520

let me clarify one more time that the reason why I ship EH isn't because something as simple as "aww they look cute together" or "they care about each other" I ship them because EH being canon in the end would've made the story that much better. all of these parallels would lead to something:

historia's pregnancy would hold a significant importance because she would be carrying eren's child. their baby would be born on the same day rumbling happened, and god I think I've said this a million times before, but it would've made eren a much better protagonist because he'd be fighting the whole world not just for his people, but for his own child as well. anyway, go watch the ANR mv, I'm too tired to explain about this again lmaoo

if mikasa had all these parallels, these build-ups and if eren had treated her the same way he treated historia (or armin, at least), i would've shipped eremika harder than I've ever shipped anything else. but sadly, that is not the case. when i see EM, i see love between siblings and that's beautiful. but if you force me to think of them romantically, then all i can see is just eren being super toxic and mikasa being super obsessed/dependent on him, and as a huge fan of the show, I don't want to see my characters being written like that, I'm sorry. mikasa deserves a better man. she deserves better period.

though, i have to say, right now I just wished no romance ever happened in the story because shippers really did ruin AOT.

[thefirstknife]

Iron Lord Saladin Forge

Season of the Lost dropped some major lore about Saladin and I love every piece of it so I will make a huge post detailing stuff about and what's important.

The lore is on Iron Banner armour which you can see in-game when you go to the armour section. The lore is the same on each class so it doesn't matter which one you read. It's in the order of how armour is set, so helmet -> arm piece -> chest piece -> leg piece -> class item. There's some extras on Iron banner weapons that I'll add as well.

The rest under the cut due to length and also spoilers!

I'll link to the Hunter gear because I'm a dirty Hunter main and I read it from there and that's what I have open because I couldn't remember the names for other two classes, but the lore is the same on all of them. The set is called Iron Forerunner.

We haven't really had any substantial Saladin lore in D2 besides few lore pieces from Chosen and Splicer. Not nearly enough I think, especially since he wasn't properly introduced in D2 at all and it was kinda assumed that everyone would know about him from the Rise of Iron expansion in D1. He had plenty of voice lines, but with no real context. His voice lines in Season of the Chosen were interesting, but also made a lot of people think he's a bad person and a warmongering coward who sat on his butt during the Red War and was then preaching action for action's sake.

The situation is obviously more complex, but I've always said that it's Bungie fault for not explaining more about him prior to his involvement in the Season of the Chosen. Well, now we got some really interesting information at last!

Anyway, helmet first!

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We threw ourselves on the blades of tyranny so others may live free." —Lord Saladin

This is referencing the Iron Lords' fight against the Warlords in the Dark Age. Saladin is heavily influenced by his time in the Dark Age. It seems like some really old Guardians never get over the trauma of living through that (Drifter is another example). Side note: this could also be referencing the battle against SIVA since Rasputin is also known as "The Tyrant." It's not fully relevant tho, as Saladin was equally affected by both periods in his life.

This first entry details something we don't really think about when it comes to Guardians: death. It's a temporary thing with them so it doesn't really matter. But Saladin recounts how he remembers his deaths and how each one felt. Despite the fact that he will be brought back, the pain and struggle of dying are very real. There is also the associated trauma of the realisation that you will go through this over and over and over:

He laughed when his Ghost reassembled him. Then, he cried.

It's not something mentioned often, and definitely wasn't a point raised with Saladin. It gives some context to how seriously he takes combat, training and the lives of his fellow Guardians.

Saladin remembers the day he stopped counting deaths. "Something about you is different," Jolder had said, and put her hand on his.

This explains that his worldview of the role of Lightbearers changed the moment he was invited to become an Iron Lord. It's also important to remember that he loved Lady Jolder very much (in whichever way you want to interpret it) and that watching her make the choice to die a final death has had a heavy impact on him.

Saladin remembers all this and more when he looks at the Crow. He feels rage form a hot pit in his belly when Osiris tells him about the young Lightbearer's suffering at the hands of his fellow Guardians. Osiris asks him if he can keep a secret.

"I don't like secrets," Saladin says, and that's the end of it.

Saladin doesn't really say this during Chosen and his interactions with Crow, but it's evident from this that he cares deeply about the young Light who suffered in ways Saladin only remembers people suffering during the Dark Age. It's also important to note that the Osiris he speaks to here is Savathun. Saladin seems to be uniquely unaffected by Savathun's schemes. This will repeat itself again later.

Second, arms piece.

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We were forged in the fires of a burning world." —Lord Saladin

Same thing as before. Referencing the post-Collapse Dark Age. The lore tab details a really tragic story of the Iron Lords burying bodies, including the implication of Saladin burying the body of a child. He recalls that these people were victims of Fallen Raiders.

"It's a vicious circle," Efrideet had said as she tied off a funeral shroud with great care. Saladin remembers the bundle being very small. "One day, I'm going to break it."

Saladin remembers how easily the body fit in his arms, how light it felt as he laid it in the grave. He remembers, with shame, pretending not to hear Efrideet's words so he wouldn't need to respond to them.

He remembers not having anything kind to say.

He obviously regrets not having a stronger stance on this in the past. Where Efrideet seems to have always been keen on ending the cycle of violence, he clearly thought differently and is now ashamed of it. This transitions into more about his relation to Crow:

Saladin remembers all this and more whenever the Crow talks back to him. Sometimes, he bites down on the inside of his cheek. Sometimes, he looks up to find his Ghost focused on him with a knowing look.

He doesn't say anything to his Ghost either.

Because Crow was saying things that reminded him of Efrideet. Breaking the cycles of violence, extending a friendly hand, not treating everyone like an enemy. It's evident that this turmoil is still inside of him as someone who spent most of his time fighting for survival, only to be told by those younger than him that there's a way out of that war. It's a very common struggle of people dealing with trauma and specifically PTSD to not be able to imagine and/or live in a world of peace and to outright reject the possibility of peace ever existing. Saladin is very clearly dealing with that and here, we see it from his own POV: despite sometimes being harsh to Crow, there were times when he chose to say nothing because deep down he knows that Crow is right. Accepting that is a long process though.

Third, chest piece.

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We rose from the ashes of a dying world to save humanity from itself." —Lord Saladin

Same again, but this is an interesting way to phrase it. He's talking about humanity being a danger to itself, not about any external threat. Ultimately, the Traveler's gift was the first thing that harmed humanity post-Collapse, despite later being the thing that saved it.

This leads into Saladin's thoughts on the Red War, something we've been sorely missing for a very long time.

Saladin remembers losing his connection to the Light. He remembers thinking that the Traveler must have discovered his most secret doubts; the darkest thoughts he shared with no one—not even his Ghost. He remembers the strange sense of relief that had washed over him until his radio crackled to life just moments later.

His deepest secret? Probably that Light is a burden. When he lost the connection to the Light, he specifically thought it had only happened to him and then felt relief. Freedom from the eternal war he has to keep waging. I'm sure he feels incredible shame for thinking it would be better to just lose the Light and die a final death, but alas, he is bound by duty. Especially a Titan's duty.

He stands there thinking about it for a while before finally deciding to embrace that duty. And now we know what he was doing during the Red War:

"Saladin," his Ghost said again, and Saladin remembers moving. He remembers clutching his radio and rallying survivors—those strong enough to make the journey—to the Iron Temple.

It's been abbreviated as him "sitting out" the Red War because he didn't fight. Of course it was strange that the last remaining active Iron Lord did not show up to the City to fight alongside all the others, both Guardians and ordinary humans. That Lord Saladin, someone who endured so many hardships and fought so many battles since the Dark Age, hasn't come to help humanity in its time of greatest need.

But now this hits different. He didn't fight, yes. He couldn't. Losing the Light wasn't just something that made him scared (like all Lightbearers): it was something that made him scared of how he might actually enjoy dying a glorious final death. To end the trauma and the memories of all the horrors he's been through. So instead of throwing himself into a reckless death, he chose to stay in the Iron Temple and protect survivors.

So yeah, he didn't fight, but he did something equally important. The Iron Temple is an extremely well protected fortress that's very difficult to reach and breach, so any survivor he gathered was perfectly safe there until the Red War ended. Sometimes "sitting out" is more noble than fighting.

Saladin remembers all this and more whenever the Crow challenges him on his cowardice during the Red War. He wants to break the young Guardian's back to teach him a lesson about what it's like to feel helpless, but something stops him.

He remembers hearing stories about the Crow's life on the Shore before he arrived at the Tower, and does not raise a hand against him.

The lore entry ends with telling us that Saladin was clearly very agitated about Crow's teasing. But in the end, he remembered what Crow has been through and realised that Crow already knows what it's like to feel helpless. He did not need a reminder and Saladin decided to take the teasing without a response. It truly frames some of those voice lines in a different light, knowing this background.

Fourth, leg piece!

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We crossed a burning world with sword in hand, bringing justice and blood." —Lord Saladin

Once more, we are told that Saladin was mostly forged (eheh) through his experience in the Dark Age.

The lore page details a bittersweet memory Saladin has of him with his fellow Iron Lords and friends enjoying some good time over a meal and song.

He remembers Radegast asking him to sing the song taught to them by the people of the blacksmith's village, but agreeing only when Jolder and Perun promised to join in. Their voices rose like wolves in the night and were so raw by morning that none of them could speak.

This is honestly heartbreaking. Saladin being this happy and free to sing and enjoy himself: compared to how he is now. But even with that, he has retained the need to do it again sometimes, if he ever finds people to be comfortable around.

Saladin remembers all this and more when Zavala tells him Amanda has taken the Crow out to drink in the City's streets. He wonders what song they'll sing, if it's anything like the one he's heard everyone humming lately—even though he hasn't tried it himself.

I love how he projects his past joy onto the two young people and wonders if they'll do the same as he did once. Here we also get another hint about Saladin apparently not being affected by Savathun's viral chant. It might be a point relevant in the future.

Finally, class item!

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We crushed the Warlords beneath our heel so that they may never rise again." —Lord Saladin

Nothing new here. Just Saladin recounting how hard they went against the Warlords.

The rest is a very poignant lore page that details the relationship between Saladin and Zavala. Zavala studied under Saladin who was his mentor and it's been repeated often that Saladin has retained a "soft spot" for him.

Saladin remembers the first time he met Zavala. He remembers thinking that the Awoken had regal bearing like the stags he once hunted on the Steppes. His shoulders were broad, and his chin held high. When he moved, he did so with the strength and purposeful deliberation of someone with the power to determine his own place in the world.

"You'll never have a son," his Ghost had said, "but it isn't too late for you to take an apprentice."

I love when non-Awoken describe Awoken, there's always something ethereal about it. But I'm mostly putting this part here because of what Saladin's Ghost says.

First, I am incredibly soft for older Guardians adopting younger ones as kids and teaching them. Easily my favourite dynamic ever. Saladin seeing Zavala as a son makes me cry a thousand tears.

And second, is this finally a full confirmation that Guardians cannot bear children? It's kind of a strange place to put it, but it seems to be the implication. It makes sense they wouldn't be able to, but it's also nice to have some direct lore information about it in case it pops up as a question. I'm sorry if this ruins anyone's fics.

Saladin remembers their sparring matches. He remembers how Zavala always got back on his feet, no matter how many times Saladin put him down. He remembers refusing to offer the younger Lightbearer a hand up. Until the day Zavala finally bested him in combat.

He remembers lying flat on his back, left shoulder dislocated and ribs shattered, a strange pressure on his chest that made it difficult to breathe.

"Finish it," Saladin had commanded because that was the way of things. His Ghost would revive him.

Saying nothing, Zavala hauled him to his feet instead.

I love how this is placed at the end, paralleling the beginning of Saladin remembering his deaths and the pain of dying. But instead of "finishing it," Zavala pulls him back up. It's definitely something Saladin hasn't experienced before, especially not before becoming an Iron Lord, when all of his deaths were just gruesome ends to a struggle. Then seconds after, he'd be back up. He took the revival for granted, until Zavala offered him the alternative. Again, an interesting perspective about something we don't usually think about much. I do wonder how Saladin healed afterwards though.

Saladin remembers all this and more when his former apprentice calls him into his office and tells him about the face behind the Crow's mask. Zavala says he knows that Saladin doesn't like secrets; that it's unfair to ask him to keep one of this magnitude, but there will come a time when the Crow needs someone—the way Zavala needed Saladin.

"You never needed anyone," Saladin insists.

Zavala only smiles.

This page ends with the two bonding again. Despite their differences and disagreements, there's mutual respect between the mentor and the apprentice. The father and the son.

And Saladin thinks Zavala never needed him, but that is obviously not true and Zavala tells him so. He also tells him that Crow, and implied Guardians like him, will need the same guidance.

It gives us a full circle back to Saladin's musings about his purpose as a Guardian and Lightbearer. He may have doubted his place in the world before, but seeing as he's still here with us and actively participating and helping; training us through Iron Banner, helping with the Eliksni, refusing to side against the Vanguard despite the difference in opinion, now serving as Zavala's ambassador for the Cabal and easily bonding with someone he would've considered an enemy not long ago...

I think Saladin knows his place. He's one of the strongest Lightbearers and most principled among them. He is not swayed by lies and deceptions, he does not abide by them and speaks plainly. He has deeply rooted beliefs in justice and he will not compromise himself, even if it means conceding his position to make peace with a former enemy when that enemy proves their worth, honesty and good intentions to him.

He is a Guardian.

He is an Iron Lord.

[guzhuangheaven]

Hello! I've seen many posts here on traditional clothing, but also on other topics, so I hope this is an appropriate question to ask. Could you please explain about different diminutives and terms of endearment in Chinese, like Xiao- (小), A-/Ah- (阿), -Er (兒), Lao (老), Lang (郎), and -Ge/-Jie/-Di/-Mei (哥/姐/弟/妹) (between non-biological relatives)? When would you use these, what is the difference between them and why would you use one over another, and how do you know which part of the name to pair?

The easy bit to tackle is the ge/jie/di/mei which when used socially are just an indicator of your relative age to the person you are addressing. So you would call a social acquaintance/friend who is slightly older than you ge/xiong or jie, and someone slightly younger than you di or mei. Ge/xiong and jie can also be used for someone around the same age as you as a sign of respect. I would say these honorifics imply a more informal relationship, but it is not such a close relationship that allows a more intimate diminutive or nickname like Lao X. If on an English-speaking scale of formality between calling someone Mr/Miss X, their name, or calling them dude or bro or some other affectionate insulting nickname, you’re somewhere in the middle. It’s basically the equivalent to being on a first name basis with someone, it’s just that the cultural values requires an honorific like ge/jie/di/mei to clarify the social relationship.

Regarding other terms like xiao/ah/er/lao/lang, it’s important to be aware that there are no hard set rules about how to use any of them. Most of the time diminutives of names evolve organically through social interactions. There isn’t any rule that X name has to be paired with xiao or er, any more than there are rules that a person named Robert can only be nicknamed Rob instead of Bob or whatever. Whether you’re called Rob or Bob or Bobby, or whether only your mum calls you Bobby and everyone else calls you Rob, entirely depends on whatever arbitrary reason you chose that name as your preferred name or what those around you decided to call you.

That said, of course there are certain connotations to be read when certain diminutives are used in certain contexts.

Diminutives like xiao and er are often given to children by older generations of their family, and can stick around until adulthood. If you’re a man, and unless your name is actually Xiao X, if you are still called xiao and er into adulthood, this is likely because these diminutives were childhood nicknames that stuck around, and would only be used by those very close to you anyway. An example of this is in Nirvana in Fire, where you have people from Lin Shu’s childhood calling him Xiao Shu because that was his family nickname when he was young. It’s probably also meant to emphasise that Lin Shu as an identity is perpetually stuck at age 19. In any case, cute diminutives like xiao and er may be used for a grown man by members from older generations of his family such as parents or grandparents, but would unlikely be used between peers or those from the same generation. Between peers, grown men would be more likely to use each other’s courtesy names rather than diminutives.

Xiao and er can be more often used between those of the same generation/peers as diminutives for women but even then, it often also implies a close relationship. Of course, I would say the spectrum of formality for addressing women is a lot narrower than men, as historically women would have more limited avenues of social interaction. You’re probably working with two extremes of “very formal title” and “intimate nickname/diminutive” with very little in between. Between two women, it’s probably easier to move into using the intimate nickname. But for a man to address a woman he is unrelated to with a diminutive such as xiao and er would probably imply they have either known each other all their lives or otherwise have a very intimate relationship. The exception would only be if everyone called her by those diminutives and there’s no other more formal option.

Ah is usually used to tack on to the given name of people who have a one-character given name, and you don’t want to call them by their full surname + given name, because that would be too formal. It can be used as a diminutive for people who have two-character given names as well, but I think that’s less usual.

I would equate lao to something like the modern English dude or bro, in that it has that back-slapping male vibe to it. As a nickname, it certainly is more often used between men and paired with the surname or the numbering position you hold within your family.

(Not to be confused with lao when used as a term of respect for older people, which is another story.)

Lang is an interesting one, because it can be very social or very intimate depending on the context. I personally tend to associate lang with a certain period around the Tang and Song dynasties, though I’m sure it was used in other times as well. Lang can be paired with your surname and/or your numbering within the family and used by people when talking about you or to you, simply to denote that you are a male member of that family. So for example, in The Story of Ming Lan, Gu Ting Ye is often referred to socially as Gu Er Lang, which basically is just a way to indicate that the person is referring to the second son of the Gu family without saying his full name (which is rude) or calling him by some more formal title (which might sound stuffy in a close social context and/or not quite appropriate if the person talking is a social/generational superior). So there’s nothing special about someone like the emperor or Gu Ting Ye’s stepmother calling him Er Lang, because it’s just a mode of address.  But at the same time, there’s a whole plot point of Gu Ting Ye trying to get Ming Lan to call him Er Lang after they are married, because between a couple, lang is a much more intimate term of endearment.  

In terms which part of the name you would pair with any/all of these pre/suffixes, that also highly depends on your name. If you share a generational name with your brothers/sisters/cousins, usually your diminutive would most likely be paired with the other name that is unique to you. Alternatively, some people’s diminutive name might derive from the first character of their given name, others might be from the second character, simply because whichever character it is flows better with the diminutive term, or because it’s just randomly chosen. Since if you have a two-character name, both are your names it doesn’t really matter which you turn into a diminutive.

These are just some points that come to mind, but again, these terms can be extremely fluid, so there are no rules about how they must be used, which also means that their usage is often open to interpretation. A term of endearment might also become special because only X person uses it, not because the name per se is special. If everyone calls you Tonks and there’s that one person who’s allowed to call you Dora then obviously you have a different relationship with that person.  -H

[lyrebirdswrites]

Shrödinger’s Nobara

So we got an update on how Nobara is doing. It was not the update I wanted to see.

My first impulse was to consider this a point blank confirmation of her death. I still think there’s a high chance she will not be recovering, and I would advise all Nobara stans to prepare emotionally for the possibility that she really is dead if you have not done so already. However, I also think it’s possible to make a case for her survival based on the information in this scene and the context from previous chapters, and I’m going to do my best to do so. Hopefully I can provide some comfort to anyone who might be freaking out over the implications here like I was at first.

Megumi doesn’t say she’s breathing or we don’t know or even it doesn’t look good - he says nothing at all. That does not fill me with confidence. But he doesn’t directly say she is gone either. This is a good time to remember the cardinal rule of character death; it’s not confirmed until we see the body. I think until we actually have indisputable proof of her death, we should continue operating under the assessment Nitta gave when he halted the damage caused by her wounds - don’t get your hopes up, but it’s not a zero percent chance.

I don’t consider Megumi’s pessimism to be indisputable proof. It’s damning, yes. But he is also highly subjective, inclined to assume the worst, and not an omnipotent force in the narrative. This isn’t me saying that the only reason there’s ambiguity is because she’s definitely still alive—that would be a wrong assumption to make. But if Akutami is still in two minds about what to do about her, or if he knows but doesn’t want to tell us, this scene is a neat way of sidestepping the need for a definitive answer right now. There’s enough plausible deniability in the framing of this exchange for Megumi’s answer to be read as she’s 100% dead, OR as she’s alive but in super fucking bad shape and it doesn’t look good. Whichever result it turns out to be, the scene can work in retrospect either way.

Which brings me to my not-retroactive interpretation of Yuuji’s immediate reaction. I think he would have been way more distressed if he perceived megumi’s silence as confirmation that she was without a doubt dead. He pulls himself together remarkably quickly for someone who full on had a mental breakdown mid fight at the sight of her injury. In the comments section over on readjujutsukaisen (credit where credit is due, not my analysis) commenter Asinine said “I think Megumi's non-response indicated the severity of her condition. I think Yuji's reaction revealed his pain followed by hope (clenched fist) she'll pull through.” That makes more sense to me than Yuuji thinking she’s actually dead and only having I get it!! to say about it before we rush on with the plot.

I’d really like to read the original raw version of this chapter, because it’s worth noting that the unofficial fan translation phrased Yuuji’s question like this: how is Kugisaki’s condition? It matters whether his question is past tense or present tense, because that positions Megumi’s answer as either past tense or present tense too. Megumi could be looking sad because, past tense, what happened to her was bad. Or he could be looking sad because, present tense, her condition is bad. I think the nuance there definitely affects how we as the audience should interpret this exchange and consequently Nobara’s chances. If anyone knows where I can read the raw scans please tell me.

Speaking of Nobara’s chances—structurally and narratively there is still more than enough room for her in the plot. When she was first taken out by Mahito, I figured she’d be fine because I thought her frequent references to people ‘messing up her beautiful face’ and her argument with Momo about scars on female jujutsu sorcerers/sexism in the jujutsu world were foreshadowing her having to live with that massive scar and a missing eye. If Akutami wants to continue exploring themes of feminism and sexism, as he has indicated through his characterisation of the broader zenin clan, Nobara now has a unique role to play in that aspect of the story: being treated differently after getting scarred.

Similarly, there are some interesting implications when it comes to her cursed technique and the current arc. Theoretically, she could use resonance on any of the newly awakened sorcerers/vessels and do some serious damage to The Brain, because they’re all strongly linked to him through the powers he gave them. She might provide an avenue to attack him later via that method—or Akutami might be deliberately sidelining her for the duration of this arc with the intent to have her recover later, because he saw this massive plot hole coming and he needs to thin out (cull) the crowd of awakened sorcerers first so she doesn’t have such easy access to a really powerful weakness in a major antagonist.

It’s also possible that he saw the plot hole coming and is killing her to fix it. But if that was the case, he wouldn’t have said in one of his interviews that he hadn’t made up his mind yet whether she was dead or not (?? That’s the translation I saw iirc, but I can’t vouch for its accuracy because I didn’t personally translate or cross check it myself).

Every other character’s death has been clear in a very gut punch kind of way, but ever since Nitta showed up this one has been SO ambiguous the whole way through. In my opinion, this scene does far more to increase the ambiguous tension than release it. It’s too vague. Akutami has been pretty good about giving his characters a fitting send off up to this point. I would be genuinely surprised if he broke the news about one of the main trio officially dying via one page in one chapter which doesn’t even give a status update though words, let alone through an actual drawing of her corpse/grave/ashes/funeral. Which loops me back to the cardinal rule of character death: it’s not confirmed until we see the body.

And let’s face it—if Akutami plans to keep Nobara alive, I am 100% sure he would drag the reveal out as long as possible and make it look as unlikely as possible in order to inflict Pain™ on his audience. Of course, if he plans to kill her off, the situation would look equally grim. But you know he wouldn’t hand us her recovery on a silver platter. Things seem bad (and like I said nobara stans this is your wake up call to start preparing for the worst case scenario now) but that doesn’t automatically mean that they are as bad as they seem.

In summary:

[newswcanonprompts]

Children Fall AU

Padawan Anakin with a group of initiates all ‘Falling’ at the same time

Maybe a Gathering gone wrong or something. Everyone is captured. Pirates or bounty hunters or just awful people.

No knights or the knights are killed.

Anakin is trying to protect the younglings.

Sacrificing himself if he can.

Falls in the process.

The kids are too young. They're not supposed to be in the field yet. There's a reason you're supposed to be a certain age before field missions. Before being chosen as a Padawan.

They can't handle their emotions.

They try to save Anakin right back but Fall, too.

Maybe they get overwhelmed by Anakin's Falling, since he is a supernova? And their shields aren't enough to protect them?

They survive and everyone is dead or dying but Anakin stands among a group of children, all with eyes of gold and he doesn't know what to do.

I want there to be like a noble reason for it?

Maybe but that definitely doesn't help the situation.

Maybe he remembers the tales of the Sith and executions.

He takes the kids and runs.

He doesn't know what he'll do, he just wants to protect them.

Maybe he Falls because he can't defeat the pirates/bounty hunters otherwise

They are kids, they can't be that dark, could they Fall by a Coruscanti Jedi point of view? Not so much Dark as too much attached, multiple Force Bonds attached? The question is more along the lines of Anakin knowing that, though.

They are holding each other together so closely that they would break if you tried to separate them? The pieces make a coherent whole together, but otherwise they would just be broken?

What if the younglings fell first and Anakin fell so that they wouldn't be alone.

Like the idea that the younglings would be hunted or at the very least isolated and he couldn't let that happen (Bariss and Ahsoka could be part of that group, they are in the right age range, right?)

He promised to protect them and he kept them alive but ultimately failed in the way that matters most to the Jedi.

It also could be about healing and building far away from what you used to know and considered home.

So the situation is too much too soon and they all fall. And Anakin with his too big heart and shields that still don't block emotions as much as they should is overwhelmed and he could fight it but…

But these kids need him. They're scared and terrified and he knows that they aren't going to risk heading back to the Jedi, not with the horror stories told about Sith and Dark Side users.

He can't leave them. They need someone, anyone. Even if that's probably him.

You could have them pick up other Force Sensitives kids in bad situations as they flee and protect each other. Like a travelling clan of Forces Sensitives.

The use of the word clan makes me wonder if this version of Anakin would look into alternative Jedi philosophies, like Vizla.

And the Jedi mourning Anakin plus the Initiates because they think they're dead.

The Jedi eventually track down the pirates, but the base has so much blood and darkside surrounding it that they assume that the pirates were blindsided by a dark force user/sith and the children were taken. The Jedi finding the building and feeling the overwhelming about of dark side energy that was used there.

Privately the Council almost hope they're dead because they think that it would be a kinder fate than to be tortured and broken by the Sith.

Quinlan not being able to get a read on anything because it's so heavy with pain and dark side energy.

All he sees is gold eyes and screaming.

He doesn't notice that it's more than one pair. Doesn't realise that they're each filled with tears and oh so young.

Obi-Wan is convinced that Anakin is still alive because the bond didn't snap but it might as well have because it's never been so solidly closed to him.

Anakin was always leaking emotions and thoughts through the bond and now all that meets Obi-Wan is a durasteel wall.

Also, Anakin becoming a bounty hunter to make sure the kids get enough food

If he looks into the Mandalorian Jedi, as a way to teach the Fallen kids, he could become Mando and do the bounty hunting as a way to take care of them. Just an idea, though.

What if they all become bounty hunters and no one realises that they're Sith or Dark Side users? Until a fight ends in a helmet being knocked off.

I like the thought of the kids forming a new Order of nomadic Force Users, you could fit so much Force worldbuilding here as they figure things out away from Coruscant.

What if dar jettii Ani and his gaggle of kids has a run in with Jango Fett. Depends on canon or fanon interpretation really.

I would imagine that Jango would absolutely adopt this smol child (teenager) and his band of even more smol children.

Wouldn't that be hilarious? Jango with 8 new kids?

One sullen teenager that refuses to trust. And then he plops Boba in Anakin's arms and Anakin just freaking melts and it's all over from there.

So, this Jango has his hatred of Jedi balanced by his love of children?

Or is it part of his plan against the Jedi to encourage Force users to create an alternative that won't make the same mistakes the Jedi did that led to the slaughter of his people?

I don't know since Anakin & Co. here aren't exactly Jedi. Though I think this Jango would have his hatred of Jedi balanced by his love of his 8 foundlings.

Jango as the Mand'alor.

Anakin pitches a fit when he finds out about the clones and Jango doing right by them

And all eight new kids have lightsabers, but they're not Jedi, so..........Boba/Jango might get the Darksaber in this!!!

Anakin finds out that Vizla has a Jedi artifact and just gets it back.

Hands it to Jango: “Like what? You needed this, right?”

Jango is a tired new dad. So Anakin is just like running around doing whatever and causing his dad stress.

What if Jango adopted them and didn't tell them?

Like, he said the words and Anakin didn't understand. The others did too, because they had that class, but Anakin didn’t

I mean Anakin would jokingly call him "buir" or "dad" at one point or another and Anakin is like "why do you even care".

He gets it eventually.

When he sits the fuck down and stops running around trying to protect everyone and puts the time in to sort his shit.

Read: When Jango gets the kids to sit on him when he starts looking like complete shit.

Yeah, Jango absolutely enlists his siblings' fellow former-Jedi to get him to slow down and relax.

They have it out at some point that Jango adopted him probably when he's gotten himself injured and doesn't understand why Jango won't leave him

and Jango's like "You kriffing di'kut, you're my son" and Anakin's like "?!?!?!? What?!?!"

Anakin can speak several languages but not mandoa. Jango tries to teach him, but his accent is atrocious.

Anakin can understand Mando'a and he sometimes uses some words, but he can't speak it.

Plus, he sometimes crosses Mando'a with another language or several and it just becomes an incomprehensible mess unless you understand all the languages he's crossed Mando'a with.

how about Mando'a's too close to something else he knows.

He keeps getting it super confused with another language.

Like french and spanish, but there's no cross meanings, so it might sound the same, the meanings AREN'T.

At this point, everyone just goes "you need a translator droid if you want to speak with Anakin"

However, he will offhandedly speak in another language or start writing in one language and end in another no matter how fluent he is.

And his accent is still atrocious. The closest comparison is the bastard compromise between Texan and Yorkshire.

Anakin is that one person who will use words from whatever languages are the best to speak about any given subjects.

Or whichever language he associates with a given subject. That's why he learned how to speak binary in the first place.

Boba becomes fluent in binary before speaking fluently in Mando'a.

I wonder how the discovery of Kamino would pan out in this.

Anakin accidentally starts a clone rebellion, and oops, it looks like there might be a Revolution on Kamino.

Slave rebellions are always very very good.

Dex: Ah yes Kamino, or how the Mand’alor got his groove back. Outer Rim politics got wild a while back let’s just say. Long story short, the Mand'alor adopted eight new children, one of them pitched a fit about clones, and things devolved from there.” 

The Clone Wars are going to be a wreck.

There’s an army missing!

Sheev running around his office like: “Now, where did I put that”

He is furious because there's an army missing, his future apprentice is missing, his future apprentice has a stable support system

basically, his plan just collapses.

Obi-Wan starts to cry because oh thank the fucking force they’re alive but Anakin and the kids misinterpret it.

Anakin's just like "I'm sorry, I wasn't going to let them be hurt anymore! I wasn't going to let anything else happen to them!" Obi-Wan: "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

[lightsupinthenorth]

Damn it, I’m calling you mine

Read on AO3

*

When Alternate-Mobius (as Loki has taken to calling the Mobius from this timeline in his head) comes to get him out of his cell and lead him to one of the interrogation rooms for the umpteenth time in however long it is he has been stuck in this cursed timeline, Loki lets himself be dragged there without protesting.

Protesting got old fairly quickly, considering it accomplished nothing at all. It doesn’t even get on the nerves of the TVA agents and hunters as it did in the timeline Loki left against his will.

Alternate-Mobius’ grip on his forearm is firm, firmer than it usually is. As if he were afraid Loki was going to make a run for it. As if Loki were stupid enough to think it would be of any use, after all this time. Loki would be insulted if he could muster enough energy for such an emotion.

As soon as they’re inside the interrogation room, Alternate-Mobius locks the door behind them. That’s new, too. Loki’s eyebrows raise slightly, but Loki doesn’t question Alternate-Mobius. What is even the point? He’ll know soon enough what the man is trying to do. Probably.

Alternate-Mobius fiddles with his TemPad for a few seconds and a familiar orange portal opens in front of them.

“Follow me.”

Loki nods, ready to obey, but Alternate-Mobius doesn’t move. Instead, he opts to stare at Loki with a frown on his face.

“Really? You’d follow me just like that? You’re not even going to question it?”

It’s Loki’s turn to frown. Why would Alternate-Mobius ask such a useless question? Has he yet to register how Loki’s fire has died out ages ago?

He shrugs.

“Okay then, let’s go…”

Loki swears he hears Alternate-Mobius mumble “what the fuck have they done to him?”, but he doesn’t have time to think about it any further before he’s pulled by Alternate-Mobius through the time-portal.

Before Loki can blink, he’s in a living-room with Alternate-Mobius by his side. All he can focus on apart from that is his own confusion.

He hadn’t known what to expect, but he hadn’t been expecting something this benign.

“Where are we?”

“Oh, so you still have some questions then. Thank God, you had me worried for a second over there.”

Loki, instead of unpacking what Alternate(?)-Mobius just said, glares at him until he relents.

“We’re at my flat, it’s a long story, I’ll explain everything later. First, tell me if you’re okay.”

His gaze travels the length of Loki’s body, as if he’s assessing damage, and then he’s staring right into his eyes. Maybe he’s searching for the damage in his soul, then. There’s a lot to find, without a doubt.

The concern that radiates off of the man brings a realisation to life in Loki.

“Mobius?”

Of course, it’s Mobius. Alternate-Mobius is also Mobius. But what Loki is really asking is “are you my Mobius?” Because that’s how he thinks of the first version of Mobius he got to meet. He can’t ask that, though. Mobius couldn’t possibly react to such blatant (and misplaced) possessiveness in a positive manner.

“Yes.”

Loki wants to take the simple answer at face value, but he has to be sure. He has to be sure he’s got this right. He couldn’t cope if he accepted this as true only to have his fragile hope ripped away from him later.

Sylvie betrayed him, sending him to an alternate timeline where everything that had become familiar to him at the TVA was here and not here at the same time. It had been torture. Especially seeing Alternate-Mobius constantly. The other version of Mobius only served to remind Loki of what – of whom – he had lost.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

It’s not comfortable, being on this side of lies. Loki has a lot of experience as a liar and as the one being lied to. He far prefers the first configuration, it has to be said.

“What would I gain by taking you here and lying about which version of me I am?”

“Seriously Mobius, now is not the time to answer a question with another question.”

Loki is dead on his feet. He cannot fathom how he manages to stay standing. He fears it will not last much longer.

“I… I don’t know. Ask me something only your Mobius would know.”

Loki blinks a few times, trying to come to terms with this Mobius (whichever he is) saying “your Mobius” like this. Like it’s easy. Like it’s an evidence.

It turns out that Loki worried for nothing, earlier, when he kept himself from asking if this Mobius was his.

After a small eternity, Loki focuses on Mobius’ request instead of on this insignificant (but not for him) detail.

“How did we find out Sylvie was hiding in Haven Hills, Alabama?”

Loki could have asked Mobius a lot of things, but this question seems like a good option. No one knows about this but them. Loki doubts Mobius put it in the reports or mentioned it to anyone, because it’s just a detail, a clue that led them to Sylvie. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. But Loki remembers it, and he’d bet his Mobius would too. The elation they felt when they reached their goal is not something that can be forgotten easily, after all. At least, Loki hopes not.

“We found out because you’re clever and we make a great team, but I don’t see how that’s gonna convince you I’m your Mobius.”

Loki feels winded by Mobius’ words. The praise, the acknowledgment of their partnership, and the “your Mobius” (for the second time in a matter of minutes). However, he can’t let himself lose his focus.

“That’s very nice of you to compliment me, and we do make a rather spectacular team. But I’m asking you about the clue which led us to the right location.”

“Oh, you mean Kablooie?”

As soon as Loki registers the words, his knees buckle and he might have fallen down if Mobius weren’t there to steady him. He extends his arms and Loki instantly grabs them. His heart is beating so fast he’d fear a heart attack if he were human.

“It’s really you.”

Loki hears his own voice crack with relief, and his eyes fill with tears.

“It’s really me.”

Loki didn’t need the confirmation, but it is so on brand for Mobius to give it to him anyway that Loki gets the impulse to throw his arms around him and bury his face in his neck. He tries to resist the impulse for a mere second before giving up entirely and engulfing his Mobius in a (perhaps overly) tight hug.

Mobius wraps his arms around Loki in return, hugging him back. That’s when the tears begin to fall in earnest. Before he knows it, Loki is sobbing uncontrollably in Mobius’ embrace. It’s most undignified and he’s probably ruining Mobius’ shirt, but Loki’s too far gone to care. Anyway, Mobius has seen most of his life when he was working for the TVA, and Loki’s done his fair share of embarrassing things. This is not the worst one, by far.

Being vulnerable is still difficult for him, but he has no control over himself right now, so vulnerability is the only way to go.

*

Mobius has an armful of crying god, and he’s taking it in stride if he does say so himself. He’s been looking for Loki for so long, he’s been through so much to find him that he’s prepared to accept anything Loki throws at him now that they’re finally reunited.

“There, there. It’s going to be okay now.”

Mobius continues to whisper reassurances in Loki’s ear until Loki’s sobs subside. Mobius is loath to break their embrace, but they can’t possibly stay like this much longer considering Loki has looked on the verge of keeling over ever since he got up from the floor of his cell. When he saw him, Mobius had to make a conscious effort to reign in a gasp (the hunters guarding Loki’s cell would have found that mightily suspicious coming from the Mobius he was then pretending to be). Loki is thinner, there are bags under his eyes, and his skin has taken a blueish tint which, rather than being reminiscent of his origins, looks sickly. Now that Loki’s finally safe, Mobius wants nothing more than to take care of him and nurse him back to health.

“We should probably sit down. Would that be alright?”

Mobius can feel Loki nod, but Loki makes no move to separate himself from him.

Okay. Mobius can work around that.

He slowly walks them to the couch without letting go of Loki. They fall on it rather gracelessly, and Loki immediately rearranges himself so he’s lying down with his head face down on Mobius’ lap and one of his hand gripping his knee. He wishes Loki would let him see his face, but it certainly isn’t the time for requests.

Mobius passes the fingers of his left hand through Loki’s messy hair and Loki shivers against him.

“Is this okay?”

Loki’s only reply is a hum. Mobius interprets it as acquiescence, so he repeats the motion again, and again, and again. To comfort himself as much as Loki.

“Do you want something to drink? Or eat?”

Loki’s grip on Mobius’ knee tightens and he whimpers. Mobius’ stomach drops.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I… I’m fine. Just… can we stay here for a while?” Loki’s voice is hoarse and tentative, as if he were expecting Mobius to turn him down. As if it were a credible outcome. Preposterous.

“Of course, anything you want. But, please let me know if you need anything else, alright?”

Loki hums again, and Mobius goes back to playing with his hair.

*

It must be hours before either of them speaks again. Loki’s turned around by now, so he’s facing Mobius while still resting his head on his lap.

“Do you have a bathtub?”

“I do.”

“I could go for a bath… But…”

He’s reluctant to voice his desires. He’s been attached to Mobius as a barnacle to a rock for longer than he can tell, and Mobius must be tired of him by now. Maybe he’s been tired during this entire display of neediness and has only tolerated it for Loki’s sake. Mobius is decent enough that it doesn’t sound particularly far-fetched.

“But what? Go on.”

“Would you… would you mind staying with me while I’m in the bath?”

“Sure.”

Mobius looks unphased, but Loki still needs to ask:

“Are you sure it’s no bother? I know I’m being clingy and…”

Mobius interrupts him:

“Rest assured, you’re only the one clinging to me because you beat me to it. I don’t want to be apart from you anymore than you want to be apart from me.”

Loki frowns, as if facing a puzzle he can’t quite solve.

“Really?”

“Of course. Why do you think I looked for you for months?”

And it makes sense, from an objective point of view. It’s a wonder Loki can’t wrap his head around it.

“Oh” is all he has to say.

“Yeah, oh.”

Loki will wonder later how exactly Mobius managed to rescue him. He’s not strong enough to deal with that conversation at the moment.

“Come on, let’s get that bath running.” Mobius says, sitting up straighter.

Loki gets the message and pulls himself up. He only loses physical contact with Mobius for a handful of seconds before he reaches for his hand and slide his fingers between Mobius’.

They walk to the bathroom hand in hand and Mobius only lets go when Loki has to undress. Mobius looks away until he’s in the bath, hidden by the bubbles. It’s a sweet, if useless (Mobius probably saw Loki naked in countless occurrences on the TVA tapes), gesture.

Loki would ask Mobius to join him if he had the courage. He can’t find it in himself. He’s been bold enough as it is. Besides, it would definitely cross the line. To be honest with himself, he’s not sure this line exists anymore, but he ought to pretend it still does. For Mobius’ sake, if not for his own.

“Can I wash your hair?”

The prospect of Mobius’ gentle hands back in his hair is a pleasant one, to say the least. So, Loki immerses himself in the bath to wet his hair and comes back up, before replying:  

“Please, be my guest”, trying for a teasing smile that probably comes out looking wrong.

*

Mobius returns Loki’s fond smile, relieved to finally see a positive emotion displayed on this beautiful face.

He grabs his bottle of shampoo from the edge of the bathtub and squeezes some of it into his palm. It’s cheap stuff, with a cheap artificial apple scent. Surely not up to Loki’s standards. However, Mobius doesn’t reckon he’ll care after his forced stay in the Alternate-TVA.

When he starts rubbing the shampoo into Loki’s hair, Loki shivers again, and then moans. Mobius puts the reaction in a corner of his brain so he can examine it later. It might be a thing.

Mobius takes his time (which is to say, he takes far more time than is necessary), before he finally requests:

“Bend forward and close your eyes for me, please.”

Loki complies without a second thought, and warmth spread inside Mobius at the display of trust.

“Good boy.” Mobius says it without thinking, as he’s reaching for the hand shower.

Loki tenses up, and Mobius instantly regrets the words. They’re out, though, there’s no calling them back.

Thankfully, before Mobius can go into a full-blown panic caused by his own stupidity, Loki relaxes again, even though his breathing is now laboured.

That’s quite a lot to unpack there. Mobius will make sure to come back to it in the future. Until then, he focuses on rinsing Loki’s hair without making a mess. He then wrings the excess water out of it as gently as he can and grabs a towel from the rack attached to the wall.

He hands it to Loki and looks away again to give him some semblance of privacy. He hears Loki get up and say:

“It’s okay, you can look. I don’t mind.”

Mobius should decline, but he’s too weak. It’s so hard to not keep his eyes on Loki constantly when he has just got him back.

So, Mobius looks at him, and instantly notices Loki’s lower torso is covered in bruises. They’re stark against Loki’s skin, which is now back to its usual paleness, sans blueish tint.

Mobius must have visibly reacted, though he’s not aware of it, because Loki takes a glance down his own body and flinches.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think…”

“Don’t apologize. Not for that.”

Loki’s mouth clicks shut.

*

Once Loki’s dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants (both black, thankfully) that he borrowed from Mobius, he brushes his teeth with a spare toothbrush.

Then, Mobius manages to talk him into eating something and having a cup of herbal tea (camomile), even though it ruins the point of the aforementioned toothbrushing.

What would he not do to appease Mobius and keep him from worrying? Loki prefers not to know.

They retire to bed soon after that, tangling together under Mobius’ fluffy comforter. Loki’s about to fall asleep, lulled by the repetitive motion of Mobius’ fingers running lines on his back, when Mobius speaks:

“I… I know I should let you rest before broaching this topic but… I won’t be able to think about anything else all night if I don’t ask…”

Loki’s tempted to tell him to spit it out, but he refrains, letting Mobius continue at his own rhythm.

“The other me… is he the one who, you know… the bruises?”

“No. He wasn’t particularly nice, but he was never outright cruel to me.” That much could not be said about many other agents of the Alternate-TVA, but Loki refuses to get into that. “Nevertheless, he was… wrong in so many ways.”

Mobius’ hand stops moving up and down his back.

“How so?”

“He was... different. He hated Josta, he didn’t care about jet skis, he was right-handed… He was cold, warier of me than you were, and a bigger stickler for the rules. He… he just wasn’t you.”

His Mobius was everything this other Mobius wasn’t to Loki. He was trustworthy. He brought him hope. Because he had seen Loki, he knew almost everything that could be known about him, and still he believed he could be someone good. The other Mobius had not witnessed any of Loki’s numerous lies and betrayals, and still he trusted him far less than his Mobius did despite every piece of evidence proving he should not.

Loki can’t comprehend the undeserved trust Mobius has for him, but he is grateful it exists.

“He sounds like a jackass.”

Loki lets out a teary laugh.

“He was. Thank you for rescuing me from him.”

“You’re very welcome. I needed it as much as you did, anyway.”

“You’ll tell me how you did it, right? Tomorrow?”

“Anything you want”, Mobius says for the second time that day.

And, by the Norns, does Loki want. He wants so much.

He raises his head from Mobius chest and places his lips on his. He keeps it brief, pulling back before Mobius has time to react. The line is crossed, annihilated. What can Loki say? He’s never been good at denying himself what he wants.

“Was that okay?”

Mobius exhales slowly, his body going lax after tensing up from the surprise.

“More than.”

“Good.”

They stop talking, then. Loki falls asleep in a matter of minutes, hopeful for the first time since Sylvie pushed him through a time-portal to get rid of him. Things are still a mess, but there’s a slight chance they’re going to be fine and, for now, that’s enough.

*

Thanks for reading ;

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 1-16: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation

“Destiny is like a gust of wind… Red leaves flutter, flying away in the face of it.  And it is when the winds pick up ― That you meet once more…”

“Rather than daydreaming all day, thinking about how you can soar higher, perhaps you’d be better off first learning how to walk.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

I failed. And right when I was just a step away from becoming the champion too.

I felt an odd sense of heaviness overwhelm me during the long time it took for the curtain call to end, something that I’d never felt before. It was sort of a mixture of both an inexplicable sense of dissatisfaction and suspicion.

I don’t know how or when I got myself off the stage.

Sariel’s words echoed in my mind. He said that I’d completely disregarded the essence of what it means to be a Fashion Designer… But what exactly does he mean by that?

All the contestants walking in front of me were relieved beyond measure that it was all over now, but the more I thought about it, the more confused I got. I walked towards a quieter place alone.

The courtyard garden at the foot of the corridor appeared serene and mysterious at night. The bright moonlight filtered down, shining upon the flowers and leaves alike. The night breeze carried along with it the faint fragrance of flowers.

���☆———————————★❖

I lowered my head and glanced at the potted plant by my feet. It was a flower yet to fully bloom, with many smaller flower buds hidden beneath its wide leaves, which were gently rubbing against my ankle.

It was akin to a small pet that was showing affection to its owner in a bid to comfort them.

Despite knowing that the notion of comfort was merely an illusion caused by the night breeze, I still couldn’t help but feel my heart warm.

MC: Thanks…

It was then that I heard the squeak of the glass doors opening to admit another.

Illuminated under the moonlight, the lanky figure gradually walked closer

❖☆———————————★❖

A crisp white suit and a pair of icy eyes.

MC: Sariel…

He looked a little appalled to see me here, but that flicker of emotion was soon concealed.

Sariel didn’t speak. He directed his gaze past me, staring at the plants within the garden. His eyes reflected the faint moonlight, appearing as beautiful as coloured glass.

He looked surprisingly serene here, compared to the frostiness he’d displayed back up on stage earlier.

However, the cold comment he’d given me immediately flashed back in my mind just as I was musing about this.

❖☆———————————★❖

Sariel: You absolutely do not understand the meaning of your given theme at all.

❖☆———————————★❖

My head had been in a mess back then, so I totally missed the chance to enquire further about it.

Perhaps his being here right now was fate’s way of giving me another chance to do so.

MC: M-Mr. Sariel…!

Sariel silently turned his gaze over. His eyes were as calm as ever, the only difference was his slightly furrowed eyebrows.

MC: I’m (Y/n), one of the participating Fashion Designers of the contest today.

Sariel: I know.

MC: I really like your works, and I’ve always seen you as my role model.

Sariel: So?

MC: So…

★Night Choice: Read his body language and remain silent. 

I lapsed into silence the moment I met his gaze.

That look on his face spoke volumes. He didn't even bother hiding the fact that anything I said would fall upon deaf ears.

Sariel: Are you presuming that I'll understand just what it is you're trying to express in your work if I give you a chance to explain yourself?

I looked at him in surprise, nodding.

The sides of his lips immediately curled up into a sneer.

Sariel: The organizer prepared hundreds upon hundreds of material choices. You clearly had the choice of choosing a more suitable material, yet you still used the most unfitting material: 80 twist Black Chiffon.

MC: That's because I wanted to express the tenacity of "Fashion Designers".

Sariel: You're only creating this to realize your idea.

Sariel: Be it high twist Black Chiffon, or those blasphemous roses that clash so terribly bad that it leaves people speechless...

Sariel: Everything merely falls under your own "Design Ideas", with no consideration whatsoever about whether this is the right way to go about making it into an actual product.

☆Light Choice: Explain your design choice

MC: So, I want to know why you think I don’t understand the theme. I hope I can explain just what the ideas that went into my design are.

I originally thought that he’d outright refuse me, but he never interrupted me, and neither did he leave. He’d only watched me calmly as I rattled off. Does this mean that he acquiescences with me?

I mustered up my courage and started rattling off my explanation.

MC: I chose to use Black Chiffon with the highest twist available, 80 twists high, not just because it can attain and support the design I wanted to go for.

MC: It was also because I felt that it was a good representation of the tenacity of Fashion Designers.

MC: And as for the rose ornaments… I chose it because it represents why I initially wanted to become a Fashion Designer.

MC: I don’t know others will go about interpreting what the term “Fashion Designer” means, but to me, I feel that…

MC: There is no one answer to this, and there’s also no way one can take it too far in any whichever direction.

After hearing me out, the sides of Sariel’s lips curled into a blatant sneer.

Sariel: So, you think that the problem here lies with the way you think, and hence, your idea. That’s why you’re trying so hard to explain and make it clear to me, am I right?

MC: …Is it not?

Sariel: Your sheer lack of understanding is astounding.

Sariel: 80 twist Black Chiffon might be able to support and display the design you wish for it to. But for something that’s being made into a top hat, this high twist amount is the most unsuitable for the task.

Sariel: You’ve chucked the elegance aside, completely disregarded the volume it is supposed to have, and most importantly, it is utterly uncomfortable to wear.

Sariel: There are better ways you could represent “Roses” if you so wished. You shouldn’t have forcibly added this artefact that clashes with the whole outlook of the piece to your work.

Sariel: Only mediocre people will wish to attain recognition through their explanations.

Sariel: Everyone out there will only be able to grasp what it is you’re trying to convey through your work.

Sariel: In your work… That’s if we can even call that a piece of work…

Sariel: I don’t know why you have placed so much sentiment into it. So much, that it has totally lost its purpose as a hat.

He was surprisingly serious when it came to talking about design itself, much unlike the arrogance and iciness he’d displayed back on stage.

Sariel: Designers ought to know just what the product is being created for.

Sariel: You do not yet hold the qualities of what it takes to be a good Designer.

Sariel: Rather than daydreaming all day, thinking about how you can soar higher, perhaps you’d be better off first learning how to walk.

His words were like a bullet, piercing me right through the heart. I stared at him, stunned and unable to form a single word.

He was absolutely right. I’d always gone straight for the concept. Whilst my heart wanted to explore new concepts within the given theme, it’d also ignored the most important thing.

I bowed to him in utter seriousness.

MC: I understand. I will do my best to correct that. Thank you.

Sariel: … What you intend to do from now on is none of my concern.

It was as if he’d reverted back into the judge, atop a pedestal and far out of reach. A completely different person from the one who’d been seriously discussing my design with me just moments earlier.

Watching his retreating figure, I felt nothing short of conflicted.

It was almost as if I’d gotten the answer to the question that had been nagging at the back of my mind for some time now in this unpleasant exchange of ours.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-14) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-19 Light) / (Chapter 1-19 Night)

[aegonbeingfakeisracist]

I love all of your posts about Elia & the Martells, so I was curious about your take on the Elia/Arthur Dayne pairing? Personally, I don't like it because I don't feel like there's enough evidence in the story of Arthur having Elia's best interest in mind during the rebellion. I know he was following orders from his prince, but it still bothers me a bit, so I was just curious if you have a different interpretation! :)

Thank you!

I agree with you. It’s not that I don’t see the appeal - I want Elia to have had a good person that loved her, and Arthur’s reputation and public image were excellent. But the ship doesn’t sit right with me because he was Rhaegar’s best friend. He was at the tower of joy holding Lyanna hostage instead of being at King’s Landing protecting Elia and her children. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. There are unhappy marriages in this series where people find happiness with other people. There are people that have love within their marriages. I can’t ship Elia/Arthur because it would mean that neither of those things were true for Elia, and hasn’t she been through enough?

I don’t see it as a complicated romance or a struggle between love and duty or any such thing, because no matter what else he might have thought or felt, Arthur chose Rhaegar - and not just over Elia, but over her children, too. He continued to make that choice after the war broke out and after it became clear that Robert was winning and there was a real danger of harm befalling Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon. After Rhaegar’s death and the end of the war, we have no indication of any regrets being expressed about Elia - all we know is that he remained loyal to Rhaegar, who bore part of the responsibility for what happened, to the point that he was ready to kill Ned Stark to keep him away from his little sister’s side. To me, the ship is like rubbing salt in the wounds - not only did Elia’s husband not love her, her lover/the person she was really in love with/the person that claimed to love her/whichever version of this we’re talking about also ultimately did not choose her, and did not speak up to defend her interests. It feels insulting. Add in the fact that we know very little about Arthur as a person and what I end up wondering when I think about it is that we might as well cut out the middle man and ship Elia with Rhaegar. Rhaegar also had a fantastic public image and prioritized something else over Elia. So from what we know as fact, these ships feel like pretty much the same thing. Instead of making anything better, it seems to me to make things worse. Instead of just one person that owed her their loyalty and consideration failing completely, there would be two, and I just don’t see the point, similarly to how I don’t see the point of all the sexual assault and bodily trauma Elia went through.

Also, it feels like, “hey, why not pair her with the first other Dornish guy we see”? And the thing is, I often feel more comfortable when Dornish characters are shipped with other Dornish characters. If you look at Arianne fics - once you filter out enough of the nonsense that has nothing to do with her that clog up her tag - you’ll find that she’s treated infinitely better in fics where she’s shipped with Daemon Sand than anywhere else. Part of that’s probably because our first substantial introduction to Daemon is in Arianne’s TWOW chapters, so the people that care about the ship are people that care about Arianne as an individual enough to read her preview chapters, whereas oftentimes when she’s shipped with other characters, it’s for what she is, not who. So theoretically, I like the idea of Elia having a Dornish lover (though I have complicated thoughts on this that I will save for another time). But it’s one thing to pair a Dornish character with another Dornish character whom they have an actual, textual relationship with. I’m less comfortable with it when there’s zero basis in canon for it. And I don’t see a basis in canon which I don’t see with Elia and Arthur. Not having a canon basis is not really relevant to whether or not something is a good ship, but in situations like this, it impacts whether or not I can buy into something.

Oberyn mentions that he and Elia went on Starfall on their betrothal tour. He also said that the only one of Elia’s suitors that was halfway presentable was Baelor Hightower and expresses feelings of guilt about his mockery - he comments that someone should have cut out his “vile tongue”, a sentiment tied to how Elia had liked Baelor until he made fun of him. While it is far more probable that they were at Starfall for Arthur’s brother - or perhaps Ashara for Oberyn, especially  because they danced together at Harrenhal - this implies to me that Elia had no interest in Arthur. If she did, I’d expect Oberyn’s recollection of this trip to be very different - his sense of guilt over mocking and belief that Elia might have been safe had he refrained from mocking Baelor is a product of years wishing there was something he could have done differently to keep Elia alive. It wasn’t actually his fault at all. We know that Mama Martell was aiming for Jaime or higher and so all these other boys were never really an option. Elia Martell was not going to marry Baelor Hightower, fart joke or no fart joke. Oberyn knew that, too. But he still blamed himself. So it would seem crazy to me that, had Elia had any interest in Arthur, Oberyn wouldn’t have found a way to blame himself for that not working out, too. Especially because marrying Arthur - or his brother, for that matter - would have meant Elia would have never left Dorne. From what we know about Oberyn and Elia’s relationship, they were extremely, extremely close, so if she had an interest in Arthur, I think it’s a safe bet that Oberyn would know about it. So I think at most, she might have thought he was kind of cute. Fine, but not something I find a super compelling argument for them to be a ship. And I really hate all the “Rhaenys was Arthur’s daughter” stuff, but that’s a whole other story.

Then there’s the Lysa issue. Lysa Tully is a character who a) had a loveless marriage, b) underwent huge amounts of bodily trauma, and c) did not find happiness with the person they were really in love with, which is pretty much the exact same situation as would be the case for Elia in a situation where Elia/Arthur was a thing. Lysa’s marriage was unhappy, she suffered through a forced abortion and many stillbirths and miscarriages, her love for Littlefinger was destructive and unrequited, and she’s not treated very sympathetically by the text. She’s compared negatively to Cat by literally everyone - Brynden, Littlefinger, Jaime - and none of the brave things she does are treated as brave. She’s a tragic villain, but instead of being written sympathetically, all those things negative things people say and think about her are presented as true. Her story is a parade of humiliation and abuse, and in many ways, she exists to be a foil to first Catelyn, then Sansa. She makes “bad” (I’ve talked about how this isn’t necessarily true) decisions where they make good ones. She’s “cowardly” where they are brave. Their family favours them over her. So what would it mean if Elia was put in the same position? Well...all I can think of is that it would feel like a gross way of painting her as unworthy of happiness.

Arianne/Daemon gives me pretty much everything I find appealing about the idea of Elia/Arthur in a way that I personally find more compelling and less skeevy. They also cannot marry. They also fit the chivalric romance, lady and knight archetypes. They also have the shared understanding of what it means to be Dornish while one of them likely marries outside of Dorne. The difference is that Daemon chooses Arianne. His love for her is openly known. He does not pick someone else over her. Now. Is it possible that this whole thing is an elaborate ruse and Daemon will betray Arianne? I mean, I guess. But I don’t think there’s sufficient setup for that at all, because Daemon’s whole thing is that he’s a straight shooter. He wants to marry Arianne? He goes to Doran and asks for her hand. He finds out Doran has arrested the Sand Snakes? He demands they be set free. He’s offended by Arianne propositioning him? He bluntly points out that he was deemed unworthy of marrying her. He beats Arianne in a game of cyvasse when he knows that she’s smart and capable? He makes fun of her. And he gets down on his knees to beg her to let him go into danger in her place. Arianne matters to him deeply. I just...don’t get that impression from Arthur about Elia. Especially what with how in Jaime’s dream, the only people to bring up Elia and her children are Rhaegar and Lewyn.

As a matter of taste, I generally prefer Elia/Ashara, even though we know even less about Ashara than we do Arthur. Yeah, knowing Ashara’s real age would probably sink that, because Martin’s penchant for creepiness probably means she was, like, sixteen, but for me, it’s a lot more compelling and a lot less aggravating than Elia/Arthur (also, I think it makes more sense if she was twenty, twenty one-ish). Which is probably less to do with the ship and more to do with Ashara herself - we know next to nothing about her and everything we do know comes from the perspective of creepy dudes. To have her be in love with Elia would be a great angle and a sharp rebuttal to all those people that just saw her as a pretty face that would have swooned for Barristan Selmy if he’d given her some flowers. It would allow her to be humanized as an actual person, rather than an object. Tying back to Elia, Ashara didn’t choose anyone else over her. Unlike Arthur, Ashara bore no responsibility for anything that happened. It feels much more meaningful to me than Elia/Arthur could.

There are some excellent fics about Elia/Arthur out there. I totally get why people ship them. But I can’t bring myself to do it. I’ll read and enjoy some of the fics, but the ship itself really doesn’t do it for me. I could go for Elia/Ashara, or maybe even Elia/Anders Yronwood - I’ve written a bit about how I think it’s possible they knew each other fairly well, and lately I’ve been wondering if the nickname “Lord Lazyeye” that Oberyn gave one of Elia’s suitors was directed at him, because his son is the only other character I can think of that is described as having a lazy eye - but Elia/Arthur just isn’t really my thing.

[hashtagartistlife]

Do you have a license for all these hot takes? ▲ Unleash the other meta conversation. Please give use Ichigo.

Or not, apparently I don't know how to read and missed that you already did one for him. Oh well.

Even though I’ve already given my Hot Take about Ichigo (see here), I figured I can take this chance to write that meta I promised re: ichiruki’s double protag status, the meaning of ichigo’s name, and what it means to be a shounen hero. This will also sort of addresses the debacle a few months ago in regard to the Only well-worded, moderately coherent and somewhat valid IH meta I have read, which is also primarily about the meaning of ichigo’s name and how that ties in with the overall theme of protection throughout the manga. (I think the basis for the IH meta – that Ichigo only ever uses the serious form of the word ‘to protect’ for ORIHIME as an individual, and that the other times he uses them are for broader swathes of things—has been debunked in the comments, but since I don’t speak Japanese I really can’t figure out the validity of either side of the argument so I’ll take it as it is. Also, when I say ‘somewhat valid meta’, what I mean is in the context of the narrative I don’t think it’s valid at all, but at least there aren’t major glaring logical fallacies in the meta itself. The bar is so, so low for IH meta. I’m not even sure we can call most of their…. text-vomit… meta at all. 

Anyway. Petty and off-topic.) 

So, here goes: the meta about ichigo’s name and how it correlates to the theme of protection throughout the manga, what it means to be a shounen hero, and why and how those two things tie in with ichiruki’s double protag status! 

Ichigo’s name is comprised of two kanji – one obviously the kanji for the number one, the other a kanji that means ‘to protect’. We all know this. This leads to Ichigo’s name potentially having two interpretations: ‘one protector’ (or as the official eng translation put it, the one who protects), or ‘to protect one thing’ (the translation used in the scanlator’s versions + official kr translation). Both would make sense given the context of the entire story, but I tend to think the latter version is slightly more relevant (not necessarily more accurate— just more relevant), mostly because in chapter 19, straight after hearing the meaning of his name, Ichigo goes on to single out one thing (one person) that he wants to protect—his mom. 

(And why does he single out his mom for this honour? Because his mom always protected him. This is relevant a little later.)

He then does go on to say that as his sisters were born and he went to the dojo and got stronger, the list of things he wanted to protect grew, so it’s absolutely valid to read his name as just meaning ‘protector’. But, despite that, it’s very clear in the text that Ichigo always has one thing (person) that he wants to protect above all no matter what. This is the ‘one’ thing that he associates his identity of ‘protector’ to. Initially, it’s his mom—because when she dies, despite the ‘growing list of people he wants to protect’ still existing, Ichigo loses his sense of identity as ‘the protector’. Sure, he still protects his sisters, but it’s duty driving him— he no longer thinks of himself as a protector. How can he, when, in his view, he’s the one who practically killed his mother? His ‘growing list of people to protect’ halts to a stop, and years later, we see him telling Rukia that he’s ‘not a good enough guy to stick his neck out for other people’. This is a lie, as we all know, but it’s important that Ichigo is espousing this rhetoric. He has stopped actively wanting to protect. 

So, despite Ichigo having an innate desire to protect, I would argue it’s conditional – 1) dependent on the one person he wants to protect the most (e.g. his mom, and, as I will argue in a moment, Rukia) being alive and well, because otherwise he just falls into despair and rejects his identity as protector, and 2) initially dependent on the subject of protection being someone close to him. Ichigo, despite having progressed to ‘I will definitely protect everybody’ by the tybw arc, did not start there—it was a progression! He starts off very small and quite selfish – first, the person most important to him, his mom. Then his family. Then his friends. Then friends of friends, then acquaintances, then—and so on. This is why I said Ichigo is self-centred: everything he does is dependent first and foremost on the things and people that are most important to him. (Which is fine for a normal person! Maybe not so fine as a shounen protagonist, though that part comes later.) Ichigo doesn’t start off with some lofty ideal to protect the whole world – compare that to Rukia, who lands in the story and immediately demands him to protect everybody, regardless of distance or convenience. As dux put it in his excellent meta, this is an instinct towards protection versus a philosophy of protection. Ichigo has an instinct to protect, like most people do! But Rukia has a philosophy of protection, which most people can’t even begin to fathom or try to emulate. (This will, again, be important for a later point in this post, but for now, back to ichigo’s name.) 

So basically, we have established so far that: Ichigo’s name means one who protects or protector of one thing. But whichever interpretation we go by, it’s evident in the text that Ichigo has a… tether person, of sorts, that he ties the meaning of his name and his identity of ‘protector’ to—a person he wants to protect above all. Initially it’s his mom. But after his mom dies? 

It’s Rukia. 

It’s blatant. Ichigo being unable to save Rukia in ch56 broken coda is DIRECTLY paralleled with him being unable to save Masaki. At the end of the arc, in having saved Rukia, Ichigo regains his identity as protector finally gets some closure re: the Masaki era of his life: ‘the rain’s finally stopped’. It’s very clear that Rukia’s importance to his identity as protector is equivalent to the importance that Masaki had on it. Rukia has now become his ‘tether’; Rukia is now the person he wants to protect above all; Rukia is the one, who, should he fail to protect her, he would fall into despair and reject his protector identity again. He WAS a little down about being unable to protect Tatsuki, Chad, and Orihime in the HM arc, but it was nothing like the abject despair he experienced at Masaki’s death + Rukia being taken away for execution, and as soon as RUKIA comes back and affirms his identity, despite the fact of his failure still existing, Ichigo perks straight back up. Basically, failures to protect people other than Rukia get Ichigo down, but it’s not enough to keep him down as long as Rukia’s still standing. 

Ichigo also consistently goes apeshit over Rukia’s safety in particular. He’s not spurred into action re: going to find the Vaizards until Rukia becomes hurt. He thinks of Yammy and Ulquiorra, but his eyes don’t glaze over black until he thinks of Grimmjow, who has hurt Rukia. He refuses to split up and Rukia specifically calls him out  that it’s out of concern for HER safety. As soon as he feels Rukia being cut down, he immediately throws away the mission to go save her instead. And most importantly – what’s the main criteria for Ichigo deciding on the one he wants to protect the most? It’s the person who protects HIM. Rukia is one of the only people in the text who consistently protects Ichigo, physically, mentally, and emotionally. (She is also the only person that the text refers to as having ‘saved’ Ichigo. Nobody else gets this distinction.) 

Alright! So Ichigo’s instinct towards protection has a self-centred bent to it, and the person at the centre of this instinct has gone from being Masaki to Rukia. So what now from here? 

A little bit of a tangent: when I first read the chapter regarding the meaning of Ichigo’s name, I was a little taken aback, because – what a selfish name for a shounen protag, for someone who’s supposed to go on to become a hero of the world. Heroes don’t get to protect just one thing, they have to protect everybody! How is Ichigo going to be a shounen protag saving the whole world, if he’s only going to protect one thing? 

To answer this question, we need to have a look at what makes a typical shounen protag. Look at Naruto, whose ‘ninja way’ has rehabilitated countless people, who eventually became Hokage, so that ‘his ninja way’ officially became adopted as the whole Leaf Village’s ‘ninja way’. Look at Luffy and his crew, whose carefree attitudes and ride-or-die comradeship between their crew members is widely admired and emulated. Look at Fairy Tail, where Natsu’s guild is the ideal for what a guild should be, and many guilds have reformed in their image with their values. What makes a typical shounen protagonist, I would argue, are two main things: an indisputable, unshakeable, almost inhumanly good ideal widely recognized within the canon as the way that things should be, and the faith, power, and drive necessary to rehabilitate people to this ideal and change the world so that it becomes closer to this ideal. 

Naruto is the ideal of a ninja. Luffy and his crew are the ideal of a pirate crew. Natsu’s Fairy Tail guild is the ideal of a mage guild. 

Is Ichigo the ideal of what a Shinigami should be? 

Not initially! Initially, he’s just a prickly little kid with a shitload of trauma and depression to boot! Initially, his instinct to protect has a self-centred bent to it! Initially, he’s not even a Shinigami at all! 

This is where Rukia comes in. Rukia and her philosophy of protection is the ideal of this series – she is what all Shinigami should be. The text isn’t even subtle about this—Rukia canonically has the most beautiful sword (soul) in all of Soul Society. Realistic or not, Rukia is the ‘absolute good’ of this universe—her ideal is, theoretically, the universal ideal. 

But idealism alone doesn’t make Rukia the protagonist-- Rukia lacks the faith, power and drive necessary to turn people to her way of thinking and enact change, which is the other key component of a shounen protag. This is the part that Ichigo supplies—his complete and utterly unshakeable faith in Rukia and her values, the power necessary to back those values, and the ability to spread these values far and wide so that other people start to take up these values as well. I said above that Rukia’s philosophy of protection is so far-fetched that most people can’t even begin to fathom or emulate it—but Ichigo is not ‘most people’. He’s a shounen protag, goddammit! He has the ability to take up an ‘ideal’ that for most people would be impossible, and actually enact change towards that ideal. 

This is why Ichigo and Rukia are double protagonists. Not because they were designed to be matchy-matchy or because of their avalanche of matching titles or whatever else. This is why. They are literally two halves of one shounen protagonist. Kubo called them sand and rotator in the side A and B poems, and he could NOT have picked a better analogy for them. Think of a watermill (or a sand mill, as the analogy is given), which is used to grind grain. The mill by itself cannot perform its purpose any more than the water by itself can magically grind the grain. The water needs to be driven by the wheel through the right mechanisms, and the wheel needs the water to actually function. Rukia drives Ichigo, points him in the right direction with her values, and Ichigo supplies the force necessary to enact change. Rotator, and sand. One protagonist, split into two. 

(As a completely unrelated aside, I don’t know what it’s like in Japan, but in Korea ‘grinding the grain’ is a euphemism for sex, and watermills are inextricably associated with illicit liaisons. They’re the eastern world’s equivalent to the western world’s stables- any raunchy business conducted outside is usually conducted in a watermill.) 

This is also why Ichigo’s name wasn’t something more all-encompassing. He can ‘protect one thing’ and still be a hero – as long as the ‘one thing’ he protects is Rukia. He wants to protect Rukia above all else, to the detriment of others, even (as evidenced by him turning away from rescuing Orihime to rescue Rukia)—but Rukia tells him no, no, I refuse to be protected by you, you have to protect the whole world. This is why it HAS to be Rukia for Ichigo – anyone with less than the absolute selfless ideal that Rukia has could never make Ichigo into the hero. Rukia turns Ichigo’s head to the whole world, opens his eyes to the possibility of protecting more than those in his immediate circle, makes him selfless enough to go through with it. Rukia makes Ichigo the hero. (Big aside: I’m not using ‘hero’ and ‘protag’ interchangeably here. Ichigo is the ‘hero’ of the narrative, but BOTH ichigo and rukia are the ‘protagonists’ of the story.) 

But that isn’t the end of it. I have mentioned, in the past, that Bleach is not typical shounen, that it is structured more like YA lit and should be analysed as such. ‘But Sera! You just spent like 2 A4 pages talking about why Ichigo and Rukia are Standard Shounen Protags together!’ Ah but you see, that’s only initially. INITIALLY, Ichigo and Rukia need each other to become One Whole Stock Standard Shounen Protag. Rukia lacks faith and drive, Ichigo lacks ideal. They need the other to support their flaws, initially. To be completely honest, this is an excellent way to start an unhealthy codependent relationship. The most beautiful part about Ichiruki is that they don’t go down this path at all. They start becoming a whole shounen protag individually, by adopting the other person’s strength as their own. Rukia’s ideals inspire Ichigo, and by tybw, he is as avid about protecting everybody as Rukia is. Rukia sees Ichigo’s unrelenting faith in the fact that she is a good person worth saving, and starts believing in it herself and reciprocates in kind in HM and FB arcs. This is where the YA component comes in—YA protags, unlike typical Shounen Protags, don’t start off with an unapproachable ideal and the power+faith+drive necessary to change the world with it. They GROW into it. That is what Ichigo and Rukia are doing—they are both growing throughout the whole story to fit their protagonist roles, so that eventually, they can become One Whole Independent protagonist on their own. 

It’s a beautiful, perfectly balanced, ironic jigsaw puzzle: Rukia had the ideal, but didn’t have the ability to turn others to this ideal. The only person she turned to it was Ichigo, but that was enough—Ichigo turns everyone else to it as well, overcoming centuries of tradition. Ichigo had the faith and drive, but no-one to put it behind. The only person he put it behind was Rukia, and that was enough—she and her values guide his choices and actions, and he becomes heroic. Ichigo and Rukia each failed one criteria for being a shounen protag, except with each other, BUT THAT WAS ENOUGH. Affecting and changing just one person—each other—was enough to set everything in motion.

A couple other points that I couldn’t find a place to fit into the essay cohesively, but think they’re still worth a mention:

Rukia says ‘all souls should be protected’, and she enacts this by protecting Ichigo, who is a hybrid of all the different soul types present in the narrative: human, quincy, hollow, reaper. Ichigo, despite being such a mixed entity, identifies firmly as shinigami, not because the shinigami convinced him with their ironclad, lofty morals but because Rukia did. 

If Ichigo’s main flaw is being self-centred and tunnel visioned + a weird sort of superiority/hero complex, then Rukia’s main flaw is probably the exact opposite - despite having this incredible ideal, her lack of faith in herself + her tendency to obey the system in all but the most dire, life-threatening situations. Even their flaws are a perfect balancing act, mitigating each other out. (Rukia’s main flaws I probably want to go into in a bit more detail some other time, since it’s not something the fandom in general has much discussion on.)

So! In summary, the tl,dr version: 

Ichigo’s name means ‘protector’ or ‘to protect one thing’ (both versions have been used in official translations). The latter is more relevant, as I have explained above. This ‘one thing’ initially is his mom, but by the end of the SS arc, it has very firmly become Rukia, again evidence listed above. 

This had the potential to be problematic, as it’s not very heroic of someone to want to protect just one person, to hell with everyone else. BUT the narrative sidesteps that by making Ichigo and Rukia two halves of one shounen protagonist, and making them work best when they are together.

Shounen protags require two components: an ideal, and the ability+desire to enact that ideal. Rukia had the former, Ichigo had the latter. That’s why it’s not problematic for Ichigo to want to protect just one person most— because that one person is actually the ‘ideal moral standard’ of their entire universe, and she keeps telling him to use his powers for good and not just her. 

But that’s not even all. Initially, they need the other to become ‘whole’, so to speak— but they don’t stay that way. Ichigo and Rukia have an immensely positive impact on each other, and help each other grow to adopt the best traits of the other and become a hero in their own right. Again, this is why they are both protagonists— because both of them kept growing and changing, right up to the final arc. 

So, even though it’s been said a million times before, it bears repeating: Bleach genuinely is a story about Ichigo and Rukia, both of whom felt a little displaced in their own worlds and had trouble making connections. They connected with each other, and only then could their immense capacity for good could start changing the world. That’s really the crux of it— that it had to be each other for these two, not anybody else. Nobody else could bring out the best in them except for the other. They would never have become this extraordinary had it not been for the other person recognising their inherent value. It absolutely had to be Rukia for Ichigo, and vice versa. It’s always going to be the Ichigo and Rukia show.

[shiftytracts]

Stop Wanting More, part 2 of 2 (T/M/A fic)

In which season-four Jon tries to quiet his hunger for live statements by gorging himself on paper ones, and Daisy tells him what she used to do when she got shaky between hunts. Part one here.

Content warnings for this half:

Nausea, and brief descriptions of prior vomiting

Vague discussion of Daisy’s passive suicidality

Animal cruelty and death: Daisy talks about hunting rats for sport

—

“Statement of Alice ‘Daisy’ Tonner, regarding—”

“Shhhh! You’ll wake the tape recorder.” Her hand clapped over his mouth so hard his teeth buzzed like mugs in a cupboard. He did his best to say Ouch. The salt on her palm made his inner lips itch. Daisy sighed: “Too late; I can hear it hissing.”

At once the cushions began to lurch again, and his stomach contents with them. On her way past him off the couch Daisy managed both to step on his trouser leg and elbow him in the sacrum. Chills curled up in the shadows of heat she’d left on his forehead, stomach, legs. Her way back into her prior position went smoother, though. She even remembered how tightly to press his belly with hers. Why did returned warmth always make him shiver?

“Alright—skip the spiel. Just Ask.”

“What did you used to do when—” Daisy cut him off with a hollow laugh, which Jon seconded. As soon as he’d begun to speak the tape recorder clicked back on, as he’d suspected it would.

“Whatever; just do it.”

“You won’t be too self-conscious?”

She shrugged. “Won’t matter; I’ll be compelled.”

Jon bit down the wave of remorse and resentment her words stirred inside him. She’d agreed to this—cajoled him into it, even. He could examine those feelings later, when she’d gone to bed. When he was alone, and warm, and.

Unbidden into his head came the passage from Tristram Shandy about the “beds of justice.” He’d never read it before, having got through hardly ten pages of that book, and wondered now for half a second how Beholding could have thought this would help, until there thundered across his mind the words, I write one half full,—and t’other fasting;—or write it all full,—and correct it fasting;—or write it fasting; and Jon swallowed, as if that would make it stop. Less than a second later he could feel his stomach trying to expand around it.

Last week he’d tried reading an encyclopedia—vore-ing it, cover to cover. No good; he quit a third of the way in, when it bored him so much he caught himself fantasizing about its giving him a paper cut he’d have to get up to attend to. Eating fear-free trivia was like trying to fill up on tic tacs. Only when stuffed could he even feel it going down.

He told himself if he didn’t Ask her for her story now he’d only spoil his dinner with more useless facts.

“What did you used to do when you got shaky between hunts?”

“I hunted rats around my flat,” Daisy said at once, in the expressionless way of compulsion. In a voice more like her own, she went on, “Not inside, not at first, just—around the dumpsters. First my building’s, and then some nights the whole block. However long it took before I got too slow to enjoy chasing.

“Then one night I thought I saw one dart past in the corridor. So I left out bait for it, half hoping it’d attract more rats into the building. It worked; I found three in there that week.”

“What do you mean bait?”

Again her first sentence emerged as though she were reading it off a list. “Leftovers, mostly. Wasn’t hard—I didn’t have much appetite for” (in one-handed air quotes, with a huff of laughter) “'people food,’ anyway. I’d just make sure to leave a few bites unfinished, and stick them under the mat at the top of the stairs. Sandwich crusts usually, nothing gross. When I got Chinese takeaway I’d use the cabbage they put in the box.”

To make air quotes Daisy’d had to fish her hand out from under the blanket. Now she returned it to its slot on the side of his gut where hip gave way to bloat. Jon almost wished she hadn’t; he feared the reminder might weigh him down. He felt giddy and light, like if he stood and walked, hell, ran, it might not hurt his legs and chest. Like if he flapped his hands instead of wringing them he’d bump the ceiling. For Daisy to comfort his body he’d have to remember he had one.

“How did you catch them? It does—uh.” Whichever Watcher department took charge of compulsion seemed to know his question ended here, because Daisy responded before Jon could finish his follow-up sentence. (It doesn’t sound like you laid traps, he’d meant to say.)

“By the tail. I ran after them and stepped on their tails and then.” She paused for an entire second and closed her eyes tight, but by the time Jon realized what this meant she’d already concluded: “I snapped their spines with my shoe.”

That was all she said, but not all he learnt about it. The Eye let him—made him hear the crunch. For an instant it shared with him the satisfaction Daisy’d felt at the finality of that sound. It had been a sore spot for her, a then-recent wound, how many monsters didn’t die when you broke their necks.

Then her satisfaction left him, and he felt intensely sick.

“Stop—don’t say any more—I’m sorry Daisy, I didn’t—”

She snarled a sigh. “Yeah, I know. Guess I should’ve told you not to ask about that part.”

“Oh. No, it’s. I'm alright, I just meant, it looked like you… didn’t want to tell me that.”

“No I didn’t,” Daisy concurred, in a tone so flat he wondered whether he’d somehow compelled it.

“Is there anything else you don’t—er. What other questions about this would you prefer I didn’t ask.”

She shrugged. “Everything else is fair game.”

“Okay,” Jon said, wishing that answer reassured him more. “You don’t—need a minute, or?”

Again she shrugged. “Yeah, alright. You look like you might, anyway. How’s your gut feeling.”

It took him a moment to realize she meant his actual gut, not like. When he did he answered without thinking: “Not bad? Ignorable, mostly, but. That in itself is.” He looked down at his fingertips for some loose skin to peel. “I’m… stronger, now, already, my. My limbs feel like.”

Daisy nodded. “Like they could carry you without having to think about it.”

“Quite,” Jon agreed, though he wished as soon as the word left his mouth that he’d picked a different one. Something that sounded less like he wanted to talk about the phenomenon’s downside, its sinister implications. He very much did not.

“The rats, did you… eat them?”

“Ew, Jon,” she replied, like it was obvious. “Not literally, no. Didn’t have to. You don’t literally eat statements either, yeah? I just killed them and it… fed me.”

“But didn’t satisfy you,” Jon suggested.

“No. They didn’t make me less hungry, just made it easier to sleep. And they made my belly swell up like yours.” (She patted his; he huffed in pretended offense.) “That’s why I only did it after I’d gone home for the night: it made me slow. I’d know I’d had enough to go to bed when I couldn’t run after them anymore. When I tried to go without—I couldn’t keep my eyes closed. Soon as I stopped thinking about it, they’d fly open. Or at least, it never felt like I slept. Guess I must’ve done, though, ‘cause sometimes I’d find myself chewing on the bedding.” Daisy shook her head, with a sigh interpretable also as a laugh. “Think I’ve started doing that again. I keep finding holes in Basira’s sleeping bag.”

“Not yours, though?” Jon knew she and Basira slept with the edges of their two sleeping bags zipped together. (A frankenbag, Daisy called it.)

Daisy grinned: “No. Hers is a better texture.”

“Thought you said you didn’t remember doing it.”

“I don��t, but mine looks like it’d be grosser to have in your mouth.”

In reality, Jon had never seen her sleeping bag up close, but now Beholding showed him what it looked like. Once kelly green but now faded grayish, like a pond; the fabric was all over pills. It smelled like wood smoke, Ritz crackers, and the lone sock one finds at the bottom of every suitcase.

“That’s fair,” Jon allowed, hoping the strain in his voice would sound to her like a laugh. Somehow this piece of information, about the godforsaken sleeping bag, had brought his stomachache back way above the “ignorable” waterline. The nauseating smell, maybe? He tried to steady himself with a deep breath, but, well.

“You look sick.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“You’re not subtle, Jon,” she scoffed; “you gasp and writhe.”

Jon tried to shrug, tried to laugh. “I’m fine. It’s just… a lot. I’m alright, I’ve just never.” What, been this full? Compelled an eldritch snack after having already eaten his weight in paper? As if that weren’t obvious. He drew in breath to speak, but still hadn’t thought of an end to his sentence. Then he felt Daisy’s hands—both of them—start to dig shallow trenches, one up each of his sick sides. His breath came out in a shaky sigh.

“That help?”

“Yeah.”

Each time they reached his ribs—or, in the left side’s case, the place where his ninth and tenth ribs used to be—her hands turned back, in a slight arc so that they made narrow ovals, each a little closer to his stomach’s center than the last. Until they met in the middle, then worked their way slowly back out to his sides.

“Could you… keep doing that while I hear the rest of your.”

Her laugh had an edge to it that miiiight have been contempt? But she said, “Sure. What do you still want to know?”

“Uh.” He pretended to have to think about it. “Why don’t you hunt rats now?”

“I don’t want to kill things just because they’re weaker than me.” Daisy’s hands had frozen in place while she spoke these words; now they resumed. She sighed, but Jon wasn’t sure at what. “Rats are fine, they don’t need to die.”

“I wouldn’t say they’re fine,” Jon scoffed; “pretty sure they serve the Corruption. They spread hantavirus, ratbite fever, lymphocytic”—he paused to swallow a wave of nausea, hoping it was the ugliness of these facts and not their sheer bulk that sickened him. He hoped also that she’d assume his voice had caught on the pronunciation, rather than. He cleared his throat and continued: “Lymphocytic choriomeningitis, and leptospirosis. And the plague, of course, though not without help from.”

Daisy groaned, her teeth bared to the canines. Jon could feel her fingers curl into fists, though thankfully none of his skin got trapped between her nails and palms. “That’s exactly the kind of judgment I’m trying not to make anymore. They’re—they’re also good, okay? Rats. Had a friend with a rat once, when I was a kid.” For an instant Jon wondered if she meant Calvin Benchley. Then the Eye told him she did. “You can teach them tricks. Like dogs. His knew how to fetch, roll over, go through mazes to find treats. And they’re affectionate, friendly. The tails are weird, but—they have sweet eyes.”

A huff of laughter tumbled out of Jon’s nose. “All animals have sweet eyes. That’s a pretty low bar.”

“Don't flatter yourself.”

The Ceaseless Watcher seemed to side with her on this, showing him the eyes of lemurs, flies, goats, anglerfish (the regular kind).

“Either way, I hardly think that outweighs the plague.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Daisy insisted, still sounding querulous. She’d retracted her hands now, and held them balled together close to her chest—like Jon himself did when he felt too shy to stim outright. If they hadn’t been talking about rats the attitude probably wouldn’t’ve struck him as rat-like, but.

“It doesn’t always need to matter which one of those things is more important,” she went on. “It feels like it does, but—sometimes that’s just a habit we get into. Some things just are, okay? I like not having to think about it anymore.”

“Right, that makes sense, we can….”

“Besides. I didn’t care about any of that when I was hunting them. The diseases or whether they’re part of the Filth or whatever. I just knew they were gross, and that people were scared of them. That’s the main reason I killed monsters, too.”

“What if you just… caught them and let them go?”

“Monsters?”

“No, rats.”

“I don’t want a substitute, Jon. I’m alright going cold turkey.”

“But it’s not cold turkey, it’s—no turkey.”

Daisy looked at him for the first time in what felt like a while, and smiled, but furrowed her eyebrows. “Just what do you think ‘cold turkey’ means?”

“I know there’s no actual turkey,” Jon sighed, trying to ignore the Eye’s barrage of suggestions for where the phrase might have originated. God, his stomach hurt. He missed having her hands there to rub away some of this nausea and ache. Wondered what he could say to bring them back. Doing it himself at a time like this would’ve felt so. “I just mean, withdrawal is—different. It can kill you, but you’re still abstaining from something that people in general don’t need to live.”

“Aaaand you think people in general need the Hunt.”

“Of course not. I know you know what I’m getting at,” Jon persisted. “You’re talking about starvation—which, unless for some reason the Fears are too sentimental to throw their old husks away, means it will kill you. Not just—‘can.’”

“Maybe. Probably, yeah. If some monster doesn’t come around to kick me off the wagon first. I’ve told you that before, though.”

“…Okay. Yes, you have, that’s. Yes. So then—?”

“What?”

“Why are you giving me a statement!?”

“To commiserate,” Daisy recited first, in the flat tone of compulsion—and then, “Shhh!”

“Tape recorder’s already on.”

“Yeah but Basira’s out there; she might—be asleep. It’s not a statement,” said Daisy. “Just a story.”

As usual Jon let himself fall into the trap. Was it a statement? By Institute standards, maybe not; he wasn’t sure it counted as a supernatural encounter, except from the rats’ perspective. And most of the fear in it was the rats’, too. He supposed you could call it an encounter with her own changing nature? Statement of Alice ‘Daisy’ Tonner, regarding her supernatural hunger and how she.

“But why would you feed me a story when the answer you come to at the end of it is that it’s better to starve?”

This time he didn’t mean to compel her—was sure he’d phrased it indirectly enough not to. But Jon was surer yet Daisy wouldn’t have given the answer she did except under compulsion:

“Because I felt sorry for you.” Then she winced, bared her teeth, shook her head; Jon wondered if she’d felt that one. It seemed like people usually didn’t—just heard themselves speak words they hadn’t meant to, and surmised what had happened from that. But maybe after so many in a row she’d begun to feel the static.

“For what? Why?”

“For feeling evil. Because it reminded me of me.” In her own voice: “Think maybe I wanted it off my chest, too.”

So, what? The moral high ground was alright for her, but he was too weak for it? Or, or not, what, spiritually advanced enough to walk that plane? Because he hadn’t been conscious for his six-month limbo between life and death, like she’d been in the coffin?

“But you resist, so—? Why wouldn’t you think I should starve too?” On the ocean floor of his stomach something evil emerged from its hole. “Hhh—wait, don’t answer that, I’m—”

Too late. “Because eating the statements doesn’t hurt anything. The ones already written down—just recording them, it’s harmless. And you can’t give me bad dreams anymore, so—ugh.” Jon opened his eyes to find Daisy clawing at her temples. She shook her head, to the extent she could without knocking into his. “I told you I'm trying not to do that anymore.”

I’m not ready, Jon had meant to say. But seeing how little she liked having answered, he wished he could claim it was for her sake he’d tried to stop her.

He still wasn’t ready to hear or think or talk about this, really. The top half of his belly seared with such pain he couldn’t think straight; lower down it squirmed. He felt perilously sick. His whole body wanted so badly to curl into a ball that his legs wouldn’t quit twitching against Daisy’s. He pressed his elbows into his sides, while his hands hovered, pathetically he was sure, just over the top and center of a stomach he feared would pounce if he dared touch it.

But he felt like owed her some proof he’d been listening. “Do…?”

“Judge people. Decide what’s right for them.”

“I see,” Jon lied; that was all he could manage for now. In truth he needed a break before he could even parse what she had said.

“Turns out I can’t lie to myself under compulsion either. I didn’t think that was the reason?—thought I was just not judging you.”

“I think”—he pushed himself back from her, sure for a second that he was about to be sick. It passed, but his breath caught on it as on panic, so he couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened.

Especially not since Daisy too shot upright, her nails loudly scraping the cushion behind her as she hurled herself against it. “Shit—turn around—not on the couch—”

“I’m okay, it’s.” He did turn around, just to ease her mind, but the motion required had quite the opposite effect on him. Jon heard the sounds of ragged breath and whimpering, then recognized his own voice behind them.

Daisy’s hands came to perch one on the back of his shoulder, the other on his side between rib and pelvis. “Don’t worry about it, just get it out. We’ll clean it up later—just like last time, remember?” The fingertips of the hand on his side twitched back and forth at his stomach’s very outer edge.

“N—o, I.” He swallowed. “I think I’m alright.” Tried opening his eyes. Nope, not ready. His breath shuddered again. Daisy’s hands vanished from his shoulder and side; he heard the flapping sound of a blanket being shaken out, then felt it flutter and settle on top of him. Must’ve got dislodged when he rolled over, though he was warm enough now he hadn’t noticed. Dimly he recognized this as a victory.

Her hand moved to stroke his back; she kept saying Shhh, but not in the harsh way she had earlier. “You, uh.” Again Jon swallowed, though what ailed him was a lack of spit rather than excess of it. “You weren’t nearly this nice last time.”

“What?” The hand on his back stilled. “I was too! I tied your hair back for you! I let you ruin my jumper by wiping your pukey mouth on it! I sat with you, on the cold hard floor, in front of the toilet, and let you babble all your egghead theories to me about vomit and the Corruption, even though I’d been sick not two days before, and could barely stand the smell even without you philosophizing about it—”

“No, I meant—the time before, when you. Never mind.”

“Oh—when I had to clean it up?” Jon nodded, hoping she’d be able to tell that from the back of his head. “Yeah, well. Guess I like you better now.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

“Me neither.” And yet she scooted closer to him, hooking her chin over his shoulder. Her hand came to rest on his belly again, its heel in the hollow at the edge of his pelvis. “This okay? You alright with touch right now?”

In response Jon felt around for her hand. When he found it he slotted his fingers between hers, pulled her hand to a sicker-feeling place a few inches higher up, and left his there on top of it.

“Right,” Daisy laughed—“my mistake.” She dragged their combined hands very gently back and forth across the place he’d brought them to. “This where you’re feeling yuckiest?”

His breath caught again, but with surprise and relief this time. With his free hand Jon covered his eyes, willing himself not to think about how ridiculous he must seem to her right now. “That’s, er. That’s perfect, yes.”

“Sure.”

“Though actually—do you think—maybe a slightly… longer stroke?”

Again she laughed. Her hand went limp under his. “Backseat driver. Alright, show me how it’s done.”

It took him a minute to determine that himself. He tried pulling her hand back and forth past his navel, but that grated against something sharp inside. Supposed he couldn’t consult the Oracle for this. Up and down, maybe? Yes, that would do. Or a circle perhaps. Anti-clock—? No, clockwise, definitely. Much better.

Once they’d got that sorted out, Jon said, “I wonder if… you’d let me Ask. One more question.”

“Seriously? I can feel how stuffed you are; how could you possibly want more? Five minutes ago you nearly puked.”

“I’m just—curious, alright? I won’t be sick, I promise.”

“Fine.”

“Did you ever… throw them up?”

“I didn’t eat them, Jon. Told you that already.”

“Alright, poor choice of words. Did you ever—” he tried to think how best to phrase it. “When you threw up regular… people food. Did something of the rats ever come up with it?”

“Yeah. I only got sick once in the time I was doing it, but, I think so, yeah. Thought I was just really out of it at the time though. They didn’t make me sick, I don’t think—just another stomach bug, like the one I gave you. One of those bugs where everything has to come out? And it came on me in the middle of the night, so the last thing I’d”—a pause to sigh; her hand slipped out of his, presumably to make air quotes, but then took it again before he could think of somewhere else to put it—“‘eaten’ was the rats. Not as many as usual; I was already feeling slow that evening. But, yeah. They… it wasn’t their actual bodies, though, okay? I thought I was just dry heaving at first—you know when you’re hanging over the toilet bowl because you know you’re gonna be sick—”

Jon squirmed, fighting a temptation to cover his ears. “Yes, thank you, I’m familiar with—”

“—but you can’t get anything solid up yet, you just retch and drool and cough into the bowl. Well it started then, and then, some of it got mixed up with my sandwich. It was like I… felt their fear, like I—became them, for a second. Each one of them.”

She’d been right; it was too much. God, please don’t make him be the rat! Jon bit his lip ducked his head to his chest curled his toes bent his knees, anything, trying to barricade the doors against the onslaught of information. He pressed his and Daisy’s combined hands hard into the place where his stomach jutted forth from ribs for fear if he didn’t try to equalize the pressure inside from without he might burst like a sheep in clover and flood this whole room in half-ruminated text, a cloud of serifed letters scuttling heinously all over himself and Daisy like half-formed spiders.

“I don’t know how I knew that’s what it was,” Daisy went on. “It wasn’t like I saw the scene again, or heard the crunch, or felt the. Anything like that. I just—was the rat. I was prey. Just for a second. And knew that I—me, as in.” Again her hand slipped out of his. “The Hunter, was about to kill me. And… then it faded and I was me again until the next one.”

Her hand returned to the dome at the top of his gut where he’d last set it, but its ghosts on his palm and between his fingers remained cold. She brushed the hand up and down his belly, airily—oblivious to how its muscles clenched and undulated. Jon panted and forced himself to focus on her hand and nothing else. How it bumped and shuddered when his stomach’s shape morphed under it. How at the end of his every exhale her touch became so light it tickled. This was the present Daisy, and the present Jon. Here on this couch in the Institute basement. Both thin, her bony ilium pressed closer to his sacroiliac joint than was quite comfortable. Warm, except up one leg where the blanket let in a draft.

The one who’d tried to prey on him was long gone. If anything he was the one feeding on her, now. And they just laid on the couch together, massaging her horrors into more comfortable shapes inside him.

“That enough?”

Jon grunted an incredulous huff. “Too much,” he admitted, unable to keep the strain out of his voice. “You were right—I, uh. Didn’t know stomachaches came this size.”

Her laugh sounded affectionate. The lines up and down his stomach morphed into circles around it. “Ha—look how much higher your belly comes up on this side. That must be where your ribs were.”

“Yes, I’ve. Noticed that before, thanks.”

“Think you’ll keep it all down?”

“Hope so.”

“Good luck. Wouldn’t want you to have to relive the rats again.”

Oh, god.

“The less said about it the—better I’ll feel, I think.”

“Well that’s a change,” Daisy mused, patting his stomach as though in summation. “I should get to bed. Be alright on your own?”

“Er.” No, no, no, god please no, not alone yet with all these? “Yes, alright. I should be fine.”

She laughed again. “I’ll stay til you fall asleep.”

--

(For Daisy’s take on “the time before,” when she had to clean up his vomit, see Abyss of Possibilities; to view the drawing in less-bad resolution, see this post)

[freewilllife]

A missed opportunity..

I love getting asks! So many different opinions and point of views that either agree or disagree with my point of view! Nice!

However, I have read the chapter now two times and I do think that you could interpret some of the events differently...

I say it at the beginning: This is merely the try of an explanation! I did not nor will I ever think that murdering people for whichever reason is right... Explaining the behaviour of people does not mean justifying it!

First I would like to address, why Kusanagi most likely let the priests have honest and good intentions. They did not seem to be a threat, right?

So why?

Because it is a missed oppurtunity...

I deem this part of the story like a drama, where we can see how the older generation commits serious mistakes that will lead to severe consequences for them, but also for the whole country.

The meeting between the priests and the descendants of Hiryuu could have let to a beneficial relationship for both parties...The priets seemed to enjoy the presence of the descendants, even though they could have perceived them as a threat...but they did not!

And the descendants could have found the reason for their existence again!

But in the end...the priets were burnt alive...and that because Yu hon feared them...feared that they could have been a threat to Yon hi.

Well...there is some relation to the present drama...speaking of “missed opportunities”

I would also like to address what Yon hi´s presence means to Yu hon.

Yon hi´s meaning to Yu hon

I do not know exactly why Yu hon was so distant to his family members, but it really seemed he had nobody to rely on...

I do think that Yu hon was aware what people expected from him...

That they considered him to be their leader, the strongest warrior...a ruler....

putting him on a pedestrial up high...

(Guess...who did inherit that...)

But that is pretty lonely...

And so....Yu hon chose Yon hi for the reason, that she is a woman he could rely on...

The selfish reason of the people ...(to protect and be protected)

His fear that something could happen to her or her people - the people, swore to protect...

(Yu hon simply wished to be with Yon hi no matter what and in order to be able to...he swore to protect her people and her...Not exactly a selfless wish...)

It is interesting that the wish to protect and therefore “sacrifice” the life of certain people is a well-known topic in the manga...only the sacrifice and their numbers differ...

Hak, Yona and Soo Won all wish to protect...in Hak´s and Soo Won´s case it is not necessarily portrayed as something positive in contrast to Yona´s murder of Kum Ji.

Everybody has his reasons to protect...Hak wishes to protect his friends and family, Soo Won wishes to secure the country that had nearly fallen apart and Yona wishes to protect “many people”...

Hak has never the chance to act according to his urge, since he is “rescued” by Algira...

Every character here thought the murder was “necessary”..But was that the case?..Even in Yu hon´s case there are some voices that try to justify his decision...

“The populace” supported Yu hon and therefore “justified” his actions.

( I remember that it was not rare to kill even the children in order to avoid the existence of people who could take revenge...)

More or less this lady implies that it doesn´t matter who dies = is sacrificed as long as the populace of Kouka is alright.

That is the source of Yu hon´s unbelievable influence inside Kouka! Remember King Junam was ready to most likely punish him...but the people defended him...

So that is the other side of the medal - We already know the other extreme and its consequences:

Well...just giving in and merely show weakness did not end well either...

But is Yu hon´s brutal way to crush the enemy completely really the right way?

Well...there are consequences demonstrated directly in front of our eyes...

The consequences of Yu hon´s deeds...

Yon hi´s mother committed suicide, when she heard of Yu hon´s deeds...She blamed herself...for something she could have done nothing to prevent it...

Yon hi blames herself...and lives with a feeling of guilt, even though she could have hardly guessed that he would react like this...

Guess...who does this too...blaming herself even though she could have done nothing to prevent it...

It could also be that Soo Won has internalized some of his mother´s issue that he has to bear along with his own wrongdoings...( I guess it was @sorasan000​

that suggested that idea)

I wonder if Soo Won learnt from his parents past and decided to detach himself from other people in order for him to be a good king...

The loss of important bonds...

Similar to Soo Won, the rift between Il and Yu hon became unbelievable large...

the loss of reason for the Hiryuu village....

and the fact that he burnt innocent people alive...(that may harbor anger and hate regarding Yu hon...)

Truly a thing a “monster” would do?

Really? Does the mangaka waste an entire chapter just to show us a case between “beauty and the beast”, where the beast stays bad?

A moral question I guess and I tend to not answer moral question...so if you think that he is a monster, I guess that might be alright...

To sum it up:

It is hard to decide and sometimes a moral dilemma if violence is justified

The past events demonstrate many parallels of the present problems

The three friends have to overcome their past (They are supposed to be the positive trio...actually 4 people when we count Lily in!)

[jelly-space]

Here are some of my headcanons for Oliver because I adore him so much. I love how differently he is interpreted and drawn by the fandom, these are just how I tend to imagine him. Forgive the bad writing, I've only written academic essays and like one fanfic one shot when I was 12 so it may come off as awkward to read.

♡ Super self conscious about his looks. Doesnt understand how to take compliments but wont stop someone if they decide to lay on the love. Do it enough and he'll be smitten in no time.

♡ Will go to many lengths to get someone he's fallen for to do the same to him. The harder he falls the more he forgets that people typically dont like being stalked and def arent into murderers.

♡Will get upset if object of affection starts to avoid him. If they keep steering clear of him it wont end well. Will start with denial on his part and end with a mess for his "sweetheart"

♡ Vicious cycle of baking to destress and feel less lonely, not having anyone to give his treats to and then getting stressed about eating too many sweets. Will leave suspicious looking bags of goodies on random countrys doorsteps to avoid it as much as possible. America and Canada have become masters are sneakily discarding said treats when he gives it to them in person.

♡Amazing baker but not such a good cook. His food is edible, and he has a few dishes he excels at but he tends to make everything too sweet or bland. Part of that may have to do with the fact that he can not stand most spices(he's in the cilantro tastes like soap party) and because he will regularly put sugar in his recipes thinking its salt and will not taste to check.

♡ Personal space? What's that? He may be bashful to strangers but the second he gets closer to someone, personal boundries go out the window. He's touched starved so anyone that talks to him more than once should expect a lot of too close for comfort moments.

♡ Tries to be a good listener but gets distracted so easily. On the other hand he can talk for hours.

♡ Doesnt label himself as anything because he's not very up to date on almost anything nowadays, but would be considered pansexual.

♡ Give this man an inch and he'll make a mile. Tell him more than two compliments and hes already planning the first date. Many unsuspecting humans end up being a target for his infatuation, none of them have ended all that well though.

♡ Has had and still has a crush on many different countries, but considering they're a bit more volatile/uninterested, he's a lot less certain and outgoing in his affection. When hes frustrated over not being able to be with someone he'll purposefully go out looking for humans to be with.

♡Is good at hiding his emotions when he wants. Is a master at smiling away his problems, at least until he gets home. Then he will either A: start panicking to himself B: try to distract himself with a hobby C: Call up Allen, Matt or Francois to vent D: go out to "vent" his frustrations on some random human or E: Drink, and let's hope it never gets to that

♡His body is as soft as can be. Oliver is, as he would say, pretty chubby. He has a slightly protruding stomach(not a hard fat stomach but a soft fat type if that makes sense), thick thighs and fat built up in his upper arms. He also has a double chin and chubby cheeks.

♡His hands, on the other hand, are surprisingly thin and nimble. If you were to ask him what part of him is the prettiest he'd likely say either his eyes or his hands.

♡Is very high maintenance with his nails and hands in general. Lots of sweet smelling lotions, nail filling and nail polish is used to keep them looking nice even with all the work they go through with his baking. Usually will go with clear but hes got an arsenal of pastel polishes he'll use when he's feeling cute.

♡Calling him fat is the easiest way to get on his hit list. He'll except being called chubby by those closer to him but it's best not to mention it at all unless you're gonna give him nothing but complements for an hour straight.

♡Freckles, freckles everywhere. This man is covered in them and he's endlessly self conscious about them. He's grown accustom to the ones on his face since they've become quite popular in recent years and hes been getting complements on them from humans he passes by while out. But gets rather shy about the rest of his body and will usually only show his arms because he really is covered in them head to toe. He'll even avoid rolling up his sleeves while baking so he doesnt have people seeing them.

♡Speaking of freckles, there's another reason he tends to leave them alone now. Centuries ago he had used makeup to cover his face, but the ingredients used...weren't so kind to his skin. Luckly his face healed over time but now he gets flashbacks whenever he sees foundation.

♡Is a master manipulator. He may not be good at catching small details because of him getting easily distracted, but he is good at reading people in general. Enjoys messing with people's emotions and steering then into whichever way he wants. It helps that he acts and looks kind and attentive, people think he has good intentions when hes really just twisting how they feel and act to benefit himself.

♡Oliver can be very delusional in many different ways. He wasn't always like this but since he had to deal with a lot of terrible stuff growing up as a country, it's how he copes and rationalizes his life. The delusions can rang from mild to severe. Someone looks at him for a second too long? They must think he looks silly in his outfit. Person runs away when they find out he's stalking them? They're just playing coy. Allen wants to seperate from him and become independent? Francois and Matt, and who knows who else, have brainwashed Allen into hating him will have to fight to bring him back to normal.

♡Like his 1p counter part, Oliver does dabble in magic but to a lesser extent. He focuses more on potions and spells that he can use against others or to spy, but as magic can be unpredictable and unreliable at times(at least for him) it's usually a last ditch effort.

♡Can see magical creatures and has a few that he is close to. He feels a connection with the fae; he thinks they have a lot in common. But he tries to keep them out of his home for that very reason. He was afraid of them stealing away Allen and Matt when he left them home for too long. Now they both have fears of fairy's because of all the scary stories they've heard over the lifetime.

♡Gets pretty stressed when things are too loud and hectic, would probably need to excuse himself at least once during a 1p world meeting if he ever went to one.

♡When it comes to technology he is absolutely clueless and refuses to learn it. The newest stuff in his house is his new oven that took him a solid year to fully understand and small stuff that Allen has bought like his new tv. Allen is usually the first person that Oliver goes to for advice on technology since Matt is not much better than himself.

♡On that note he is a sucker for older technology, his favorite thing besides his kitchen is his gramophone that he'll use to play the massive collection of records he owns. He'll listen to music from any place he can get his hands on but he had a particular love for French music.

[coconutjelly]

Inspiration

Ohgodohgodohgodohgod.....I did a thing.

I haven’t written published fanfiction in like a decade. Side note - when did we stop having to give disclaimers? I feel like I’m cheating, somehow?

Not the point. I published on AO3. It’s just a cute little oneshot I’ve been sitting on for a while, and it’s live, and if anyone would like to read before I dive headfirst into my Geraskier K*nk Bingo card, it’s below the cut, or on AO3.

Now, if you’ll all excuse me...I’m gonna go sit in the corner with my anxiety tummy ache.

Rating: General Audiences Additional Tags: Inspired by a The Amazing Devil Song, Song: The Horror and the Wild (The Amazing Devil), Friendship, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Gen or Pre-Slash Summary:

Geralt doesn’t always know what inspires a particular piece of Jaskier’s music.

Some, of course, are obvious.

After another fight about Jaskier joining during a hunt leads to a new composition. Inspired by The Horror and The Wild, by The Amazing Devil.

Geralt doesn’t always know what inspires a particular piece of Jaskier’s music.

Some, of course, are obvious - ballads of Geralt’s own history, never more than half accurate, or odes to whichever fair lady had stolen Jaskier’s heart that month. He sings just as much of heartbreak, which would make sense, given how often he takes a new lover, except that he rarely seems torn up at the end of an affair.

Others though, are more abstract. Last season’s ballad about the frozen beast of the winter wastelands being bested by a golden sun, for example. For a man who hated the cold, Jaskier wrote a lot about snow and winter - probably, Geralt figured, because he hated the real thing so much, he wanted to romanticize it. 

Songs that don’t tell a story at all, with solemn lyrics of an ancient wood and wistful dreams of empty beaches, Geralt assumes those are poetic metaphors for...something. He never examines those close enough to puzzle it out; he gets enough wordplay from prophecies and sorcerers.

It seems that the young bardling is always composing something, and it doesn’t always result in a literal interpretation of events, or even of the world around him. Which brings them to this moment - Jaskier holding his pack, looking furious as Geralt mounts Roach, armed for battle.

“And just what am I supposed to do?” he rages.

“Make a stew. I’ll be hungry after the hunt. And be ready to run if it goes bad.”

“I will not!” 

“You will stay with the camp, and that is final.”

“You-you brute! You are not my keeper, Geralt of Rivia!”

“And yet, I keep you alive.”

“Oh, haha, save a man’s life a handful of times, and suddenly he can’t take care of himself.”

“You know that isn’t true,” Geralt sighs.

Jaskier softens visibly, looking touched. “You really mean that?”

Geralt grunts wordlessly, then, “You couldn’t take care of yourself before I found you.”

The discordant shriek of indignation that leaps out of Jaskier at that would ordinarily be enough to make him smile, but he’s too tired of having this same argument over and over. 

“You, my muse and wonder, would deny me inspiration?”

“You’ve written nothing yet from the last hunt you joined.”

“That,” Jaskier grits icily, “is not the point. I can’t control when the music speaks to me.”

Geralt is utterly done with this conversation. “Maybe you just can’t hear it,” he snipes, guiding Roach around at a canter in the direction the alderman had indicated. He shouts back over his shoulder, “Have you tried talking less?”

He tries not to hear the insults that Jaskier throws at him as he disappears between the trees.

-

It’s dark by the time Geralt returns with the head of his bounty, and he’s guided back to their campsite in part by the aroma of stew and in part by a melody unlike anything he's heard.

When he glimpses the bard at the edge of the clearing, Jaskier is playing his lute in a way Geralt has never before witnessed. He plays as though he must punish the elven-made instrument for a mortal offense, alternating between plucking the strings and slapping the flat of the wood like a drum. His notebook is open beside him, and Geralt can see a large smear of ink where Jaskier hadn’t let it dry before turning the page.

“Planning to murder another lute?” he asks casually.

Jaskier’s gaze slices to him with a vitriol that indicates the lute is not the victim he has in mind. 

“I’m writing a song about what an arse you are,” he spits.

“Won’t do much for the public image, will it?” he quips.

Geralt swears he can hear Jaskier rolling his eyes. “I’m an artist for a reason, a wordsmith of the highest caliber. The meaning will be hidden in metaphor and imagery.”

“So only you will know it means I’m an arse?”

Jaskier grumbles something that isn’t quite words but still manages to convey an unpleasant meaning.

“Would you kindly let me work out my emotions in my own way?” He turns away from Geralt, which unfortunately is also away from the fire. After a few moments, he turns back to his only light source and continues strumming, drumming, and scribbling. 

As Jaskier works, Geralt silently removes and cleans his armor and ensures his bedroll is prepared, before sitting in front of the fire to find steaming stew already waiting for him. He grunts his thanks as he takes his portion. He can feel the tension in the air, can smell the sullen rage still simmering in his companion. He has nothing constructive to say on the matter though, so he decides to let Jaskier speak when he’s ready. As anticipated, it doesn’t take long.

“I’m sorry for calling you a brute,” Jaskier says quietly. “And an arse.”

Geralt lifts an eyebrow. “And a pox-riddled horsefucker?” 

The bard at least has the good manners to wince and look abashed. “Heard that, did you?”

“Hm.”

“I’m sorry.”

Geralt shrugs, going back to his stew. “You say a lot of things you don’t mean.” He lets the silence fall, guessing correctly that Jaskier is not done expressing himself, and knowing that he will speak again when he is ready.

“I’ve always been hungry for adventure. That’s why I’ve been with you, to be free,” he says sulkily. “But you treat me like a child who can’t manage himself out in the woods. You flit about the Continent as you please, yet tell me I oughtn’t do the same.”

“I don’t flit; I’m not a bird,” Geralt huffs. He sets his elbows on his knees, looking contemplatively into the fire. 

Jaskier leans over to clasp a hand on the back of his neck, pressing their foreheads together, a gesture Geralt mirrors. It is a greeting of Witchers, and one Geralt taught him. It is the only intimacy they allow themselves, the only grounding touch on the Path. Jaskier stares him firmly in the eye as he says, “I am a man grown, Geralt. I know the dangers I’m facing.”

Geralt sighs, grinding his teeth and trying to keep in the words that might make Jaskier understand; the words that might finally send him away. Instead, he curls his fingers through the fine hairs at the base of Jaskier’s neck and presses his mouth to the young man’s forehead. It’s too harsh to call it a kiss. It isn’t passionate, nor is it chaste, but it is fiercely emotional and filled with frustration and concern.

He pulls back, still gripping Jaskier’s nape, and is both pleased and frightened to see the wide-eyed expression the unexpected gesture has earned. “I’ve walked the Path for five of your lifetimes,” he reminds the bardling. “You are a child, in this. Most humans would see what I see only in their nightmares. The Path is a parade of horrors.”

“I’m not afraid,” Jaskier whispers hoarsely. “I know I’m safe with you.”

Well that’s...that’s a new concept, entirely, and one for Geralt to Think About Later, but it’s exactly the point he’s been trying to make. “I can’t always do my job and protect you at the same time. Some hunts, I can’t afford the distraction. If I have to make a choice in an instant to protect you or to stop a beast from hurting more innocents…” He shakes his head, disgusted with himself.

“I know you’ll always protect the innocents first,” Jaskier assures him. “You’re a Witcher, it’s what you--”

But, “No, I won’t. Not if it’s you or them. Nor if it’s you or me.”

Geralt finally releases the other man, who weaves a bit on the spot, chewing his lower lip. "What if I learned to fight, to protect myself? You could teach me."

That does earn a frustrated chuckle. “You are a bold thing, I’ll give you that. Get some rest, little one. We make for the alderman at daybreak."

They bank down the fire and settle into their bedrolls after that. Geralt prepares to meditate, too exposed here in the woods to risk full sleep. 

“I’ll keep asking, you know,” Jaskier says into the dark. 

Geralt isn't sure if he means learning to fight or coming on a hunt. Either way, "Maybe in a few years, once you’ve got more of the wild in you.”

-

Jaskier’s new song debuts as a hit. The tavern’s patrons are all on their feet, stamping and clapping, roused by the passion and feral energy of the newest piece. As he predicted, not one member of the audience seems to realize it’s about Geralt being an arse. 

Geralt is positioned with the best view of the room, as always, so Jaskier has the best possible vantage point to stare him directly in the eye while singing some of the more pointed lyrics of the number.

He finally sees a spark of recognition in Geralt’s eye the third time through the chorus, and knows the message has at least been partially received.

He’s called up for no fewer than three encores before he is allowed to return to his seat across from Geralt and the cold ale he gratefully accepts from the stoic man.

“Your review?” he prompts, thirst sated. “Three words or less.”

Geralt tries to glare, but feels a bit of a smirk steal onto his cheek. “Old man?” he chides.

“Well, you know…” Jaskier looks down into his ale, then back up through his eyelashes in a way that Geralt knows he knows usually gets him forgiven. “Artistic license.”

Geralt doesn’t always know what inspires a particular piece of Jaskier’s music.

Some, of course, are obvious.