#its often more a matter of taste for me than it is any real flaw in the game

[metanarrates]

Hiii I see you're playing isat!!! As an orv+utena and more recently isat fan this is very exciting. I love your meta posts. How far are you into isat? Spare some of your thoughts so far?

im on act 4 and I've got some mixed opinions on it! as a certified Timeloop Story and Ludonarrative Mechanics enjoyer, I think the execution in those departments is great! as a certified Character Driven Narrative enjoyer... I can see what the author is going for but I don't always think the execution is fantastic. I like a lot of the characters but the humor and prose/narration/dialogue styles are often grating to me, and there's a strong tendency to spell things out that I think the viewer would be better off figuring out for themself. i also tend to wish that some of the interparty character relationships were more nuanced, because theres stuff there that could be interesting but I'm not sure will ever be touched upon.

isat's concept is difficult to pull off well. I have a lot of respect for the author, because I think there's a ton of fantastic ideas in the game and I appreciate the ambition it takes to tackle something like this. however, starting a game like this in media res creates a difficult situation where I'm expected to immediately be invested in these characters as a found family with an entire unseen adventure's worth of bonding behind them, and their relationships so far aren't compelling enough for me to feel that kind of investment. I feel like there's a lot of gesturing at common rpg party tropes and going "you know, they're like this" and while that's fine, i can't help but wish the developers had found a better way to introduce me to their relationships. it ends up feeling a little unintentionally fanficcy.

that said, the mystery and fantasy elements? the spiral that siffrin undergoes while being trapped in a time loop? the grief and unrest underneath everything? super fun. i'm officially hooked on that. I also think loop, mirabelle, and odile are all wonderful characters and I love seeing them on screen! art, game design, and music direction are also A+. it's a great project! i just think it was something that the author might have benefited from a bit more writing experience in order to make it really shine.

[ko-existing]

Running in Circles, Searching for What?

Readers often describe feeling trapped in a loop: searching, chasing, doing more to get somewhere. Hoping for progress, proof, or an improvement that justifies all the effort. But here’s the real question:

Has it brought you anywhere?

Take a moment. How long have you been seeking? Months? Years? Have you "found" anything, or is it just more seeking, more questions, more frustration? You run in circles, chasing shadows, hoping the next practice, insight, or realization will be "it."

It’s not wrong to feel this way, but consider this: the very act of searching implies you think there’s something missing—something you lack that needs to be attained. But what if the assumption itself is flawed? What if the one seeking is the very illusion you’re trying to unpack?

Let’s step back and look at the nature of a "dream".

When "you" seem to "dream" at night, no matter what the "dream" looks like—whether it’s exciting, terrifying, or mundane—"who/what" is always "present"? Who is there in every "dream"? And how do you even know it’s a "dream"? You can feel sensations arising, hear the sounds, and even "think" within the "dream". Sounds familiar, no?

Now look deeper: where is the dream coming from? What gives it its apparent existence? When the dream ends, where does it go? And in those moments of so-called deep sleep, when you say, "I didn’t dream at all," how do you know that gap was even there? What remains?

In every dream, there’s an undeniable Knowing—a "presence" that holds it all, isn't there? The dream is fleeting, but the Knowing of it isn’t. It’s there whether the dream is "vivid", "faint", or "absent" altogether. And that same knowing is "present" now, reading these words, isn't it? You don't have to use any thoughts to notice.

So.. what are you really searching for? The next “aha” moment? A tangible shift? Something to confirm, “Yes, now I’ve got it”? But who would "get it"?

All there is, is this—this effortless "awareness" in which everything arises and disappears.

All seeking starts to dissolve when you see that what you’re looking for isn’t "out there." It’s the same presence that’s already aware of the seeking, the frustration, and the loop itself. Just like in a dream, you’re chasing answers without realizing you’re the space in which the entire dream unfolds.

Here’s the thing: I can tell you this over and over again, and I can write endless words about it, but at the end of the day, you have to see it. Nothing I say or anyone else says will make it clearer to you than seeing it directly.

Think of it like this: imagine I tell you about the taste of a "Tsampa" (tibetan foodstuff). Let me try to describe it—Tsampa has a simple, earthy taste—kind of nutty and a little smoky because it’s made from roasted barley. It’s pretty dry on its own, but when you mix it with butter tea (bo cha) or milk (or water), it turns into a creamy porrdige that’s super satisfying.

Do you now know how it tastes based off of this short description? No matter how much anyone tries to describe it, you wouldn’t really know what it’s like until you actually try it yourself. You might feel like you “get it,” but until you actually taste Tsampa (-Porridge) for yourself, it’s all just words. The actual direct experience is yours to have, and words will never compare to it.

It’s the same here. Look at the loop you feel stuck in. Look at the dreamlike nature of every experience. Look at what’s behind the looking itself. And notice: the seeking, the searching, and even the apparent struggle—what is all of it arising in?

The dream at night is your perfect clue. Who’s been there in every dream, in every scene, in every story in and out of it? Who’s the constant presence beneath it all? If you truly see that, will there be any questions left?

[vidames]

céline's interview!

Warnings for Engage spoilers below, please don't read on if you'd like to avoid spoiling anything for yourself.

What has led you to where you are today?

The interview is informal, set in what looks to be some sort of common room at the monastery. Despite the monk’s insistence, Céline insists on preparing the tea. A gentle, rose petal blend, the aroma of which is an instant balm to her frayed nerves. Here she is, at an esteemed academy for the best and brightest far from home and Céline tries desperately to swallow down the truth. That she must prepare for the day all her worst nightmares come to pass. A day when it is her duty and obligation to the people of Firene to sit upon that lofty, lonely throne.

A day when her brother leaves her, forever.

For now though, Céline plasters a well honed and practised smile on her face. Stifles the tremors in her hands as she pours two cups of tea and inhales. Chases such awful thoughts to the back of her mind and leaves them there, locked in place where they cannot hurt her. Where she can pretend all is well.

“Firene has always been a nation that prizes peace above all for its citizens. Which is precisely why I’m here. There are times when one must fight for one’s ideals, no matter how peaceful and benevolent those ideals are.” Céline raises the cup to her lips in a delicate, fluid motion and takes a sip. The taste reminds her of home, of the serene and bountiful pastoral fields of Firene. She reminisces on tranquil, jaunty days undercover to try her nation’s best tea and food with Chloé. Her smile relaxes a little, warm, genuine and pleasant. “As Firene’s princess, it is my duty to protect our people. Despite many treaties and much negotiation on my mother’s part, war still found its way to our doorstep. Towns were ravaged by invaders. I made a promise, at Florra Port Town. That I would never allow that to happen again.”

“Mother and Alfred are so often hard at work with leadership. I wish to be of as much aid to them as I possibly can.”

What do you believe are your greatest strengths? Your greatest weaknesses?

Your health, the pernicious voice in her head cries out. Céline’s smile drops for a fraction of a second before she puts the mask back into place. Small hands reach to her eye line as elongated fingers push the hair away from her face. A soft exhale and her composure is back in place. Firene’s princess does not have the luxury of showing such weakness.

“I’d say my greatest talents are in diplomacy and negotiation. I’m not green on the battlefield, I’ve never tried to shy away from my obligation to our people after all,” Céline’s hand rests around her cup, warmed by the sweet, floral beverage within. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before continuing further. “I’m fairly skilled in both magic and swordplay although I’m sure I have much to learn and room to grow. I’m more confident in my political skills and ability to reach out to others.”

Weaknesses? Surely they realise a woman of her position cannot freely admit to any real glaring flaws, lest her frailty be used against her. The smile on her face sharpens in response, eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“Surely you don’t expect me to reveal anything too vulnerable. One must always be discreet in their manners. However,” Céline is not exempt from showing a little self-awareness. If only to convince her interviewer that she is capable of deeper introspection and reflection for the sake of personal growth. “I suppose I can disclose one I’m working on and trust your good intentions, kind sir. I have always been rather emotional. As a child I would burst into tears at the drop of a hat.”

“I am no longer such a crybaby but I can confess to being plagued by fear and worry, or carried away with joy. I’m cautious enough that it rarely hinders me in carrying out my duties but it does still make some of my personal relations more fraught than they have to be.” Her tongue is sharper than any blade she has wielded, a fact she knows. A tendency to lash out in fear, especially to dear Alfred. Céline knows deep in her heart that he understands, he does not take any of her barbs personally. Yet her worst fear, more than being left alone to rule, is that her last words to him will be pointed and hurtful. “I’m rarely impolite to people, especially strangers but I can be sharper than I’d like with those I care for. Especially in emotionally charged situations.”

If a story were to be written about your life, what role would you play?

It’s easy to discuss the role she should play. The one she wants to, side by side with her brother. Helping their kingdom flourish and their people prosper. Yet there has always been an unspoken agreement between herself and mother that she was as much heir to the throne as her older brother. Shrewd, hale and healthy - the child who escaped the looming spectre of death and disease for much of her life. They’d been raised so similarly and whilst her mother could make excuses, try to insist that it was simply so Céline would be primed and ready to support her brother, she knew the truth. That one day, perhaps terrifyingly soon, Alfred would be snatched away from them just as her father had been.

She had become strong for both of them. The once soft and gentle princess had been honed as sharp and durable as a blade.

“Forgive me, I was lost in my own thoughts for a moment. A story about my life, you say?” Yet even now she sounds bright and cheerful and she hates it. Despises her falsehoods and fake positivity to the core of her being. But if she cannot open up to her closest allies and dearest friends, how can she be expected to open up to a nameless, faceless monk who will not remember her tomorrow. Whom she will not either. To many that would make him safe and harmless but few sit in her position. Few have to consider themselves potential rulers. “I have worked hard all my life to be able to protect my people and my family. Losing my father so young was painful but it strengthened my resolve.”

“I would never abandon my mother, or my dear brother, no matter where the world takes us. I will always support them and our people, so dear to all our hearts,” Céline tilts her head, a fond, wistful smile on her lips. She yearns for a life in blooming fields without a care in the world. That was never a possibility though, far out of the question. The least she could do was devote herself to protecting the gentle, happy families of Firene and their pastoral ways. The flourishing crops and abundance of beauty her kingdom had been gifted with had always seemed like a religious blessing, from the Divine Dragon Queen who was so close to her mother. Céline would continue those ties into the future, providing for her people the protection and grace they needed. “I wish to be their sword, shield and flames, so they can live joyous lives. A princess at her brother’s side, providing him with both wisdom and might in kind. Whatever he should need.”

[comicaurora]

How do you deal with going from story eater to creator of story? What do you do if your audience sees flaws or perceives lack of depth, finds potential you never saw and feel it's wasted, or can't find what you thought you were writing? Problems you didn't realize? Mistakes? Of course people are positive but i think people who see negative are also valid to say so bc they say it for a reason and often care. But when to balance that? Do your thoughts matter at the end of the day abt the story?

Of course they matter.

The short answer is you cannot be worrying about this when you write. Your goal when writing should be telling the story you want to tell, not telling a perfect story that is completely above criticism and could never be improved, because that is impossible.

You could bake the most beautiful red velvet cake with exquisite frosting and a moist crumb and someone will tell you "you should've added another tier" and someone else will tell you "this cake would taste better if it were square" and someone will add "I think this'd be a little better if you'd used more baking powder" and someone else will say "I don't like cream cheese frosting, you should've used chocolate buttercream instead" and if you try to change your cake to please every one of those people you'll end up with a big pile of frosting-y crumbs. Plus, the people who actually like your cake fine will be disappointed that you took it away from them to "fix" it and they ended up with much less cake than they wanted.

Your audience will have opinions on your work, and you cannot and should not pre-empt those opinions. It's not your job to control how the audience sees your story - your job is just to tell the story. Criticism is good and being open to it is good, but ultimately you need to keep sight of what you want from this story. Do you want to tell a perfect story, or do you want to tell this story? In the pursuit of art, if you compromise your own enjoyment of the creative process too much, you will burn out, and then nobody gets any cake.

To address the other part of your question, the shift from fan-side media analysis to writing helped confirm something I kind of already knew: transformative work of any kind is orders of magnitude easier than building an original work from nothing. This is a huge part of its appeal, of course - if someone wants to flex their writing muscles without doing a ton of heavy lifting to establish setting and characters, they can just grab some established characters and write about them, or take an established plotline and say "I'm gonna tweak like 10% of this and see what happens." It's a way for the audience to engage with media that lets them consume it on a deeper, more personally satisfying level than just watching or reading it - it lets them digest it, turn it into part of their own creative process. I've sketched fanart of characters and scenes that were parked in my head rent-free because it gave me creative energy to do so.

And that's all well and good. It's nice clean fun. But telling your own story is very, very hard. You don't just have to build the world and characters and establish them from the ground up - you also need to guide their movements into satisfying and thematically consistent character arcs, keep the pacing tight, establish stakes that are actually concerning, build up mysteries with actual solutions that intrigue without being frustrating, dodge the yawning trope pitfalls so you don't fall in and drag the story down with you. And then you need to keep doing it as the story gets heavier and heavier and longer and longer behind you, keeping track of all the stuff you've previously established and all the trailing plot threads you haven't resolved yet and planning for where you're gonna lug the whole thing in the future.

And, to put it bluntly, it's real easy for someone chilling with a brisk glass of lemonade watching you drag this enormous tangled mass along inch by inch to sidle over, tap you on the shoulder and say "I can't believe you didn't spend more time on Guard Number 3."

Everyone who ever reads your story will have a version in their head that they think would be absolutely perfect, and some of them will complain at you that their theoretical perfect version is very different from yours, and every one of these people's perfect versions will be completely different from each other's. You cannot take it as a catastrophic personal failing that someone wishes 2% of your story was a little bit differently shaped.

Don't categorically reject all criticism, but you have to engage with that criticism critically. Some of it'll be pointing out legit mistakes (since, as mentioned, you're dragging a huge unweildy pile of tangled plot threads and big heavy chunks of worldbuilding, so you will fuck up occasionally) but some of it will just be personal preference or criticisms of the form "hey I haven't actually read your story but based on what I think it's doing I am very mad at you" and "I think this story would be better if it was a completely different story." You cannot treat all critiques as equally useful, and I'll be honest - in my experience, almost none of it will ever actually help you. Criticism like that is generally for the benefit of other fans and future storytellers learning from other people's mistakes. Your job in those circumstances is to serve as a good example and to just deal with the fact that it stings to be a good bad example.

And in general, anyone who tells you "your story would be so much better if you did my fanfic idea" can be politely and categorically disregarded.

[merakiui]

hii could we get an angsty scenario/hcs of xiao and scaramouche/any characters you prefer! who are basically head over heels for someone but that person keeps getting with the wrong people and constantly getting their heart broken? Preferably with a good/fluffy ending but it’s up to you!

cw: angst + heartbreak  note - decided to go for scenarios! (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*

[Xiao] 

One Call Away—

The sudden shout of his name had brought him out into the open, where he finds you sitting in a field of wildflowers, your head hung and quiet sobs racking your hunched form.

“You called?” The gruffness in his voice startles you and your head snaps up. He notices your pained expression and the tears that refuse to cease, and it gives birth to a strange feeling within his chest. “What happened? Surely I am not too late.” And then he shakes his head. “No, I’m never late.”

“Ah... I’m sorry.” You sniffle, pitifully rubbing at your eyes. “I guess your name slipped out. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just didn’t mean to call for you either.”

Xiao raises a brow and then surveys the surrounding area. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re in any mortal peril. In that case, I’ll leave you to—”

“No!”

Your sudden shout startles the both of you, with you drawing back and Xiao’s eyes widening ever so slightly. He wonders why you’re crying when beautiful scenery surrounds you. Are you truly that pathetic? Are mortals usually this weak-hearted? Xiao can’t wrap his head around the idea of grief; he’s an immortal who has seen plenty of hazardous scenarios worth grieving over. Yet with the passage of time he has learned to let such emotions drift away on a wind current. Emotions are useless to an adeptus.

But now he’s stuck with them.

“No?”

“D-Don’t go...” Your voice wobbles and you wipe at your reddened eyes. “I don’t want to bother you, but could you stay here with me? For a little while, at least. It’s all I’ll ask...”

He feels like he should decline your desperate plea before it spreads its perplexing roots throughout his system. The words are practically on the tip of his tongue and he struggles to verbalize them. If he could, he’d shake his head and vanish from your sight. There’s something about your expression that forces him to stay, and he truly detests the way his emotions run wild at the prospect of something he can’t quite comprehend.

“Fine.”

And so Xiao listens to you. It’s something he does best; his eyes and ears are open as he gives you his full, undivided attention. Half of him observes your reactions as you explain what happened and the other half zeros in on the way your subtle hand motions. While he might not be anywhere near a cupid—and he would never be caught giving out relationship advice to mortals, which is something he couldn’t do even if he tried—he is still a being of immense power. From what he’s able to understand from your explanation, your loved one decided to part from you because they believed it just wasn’t working. And you, having been struck with an immense sadness, failed to call out to them to clear up any misunderstandings.

Eventually, after internally wrestling with his own thoughts and feelings, he asks, “Do you want me to teach them a lesson? Should you need them to feel the same amount of despair you’re feeling—”

“Oh, no! No. No. They don’t deserve to be punished for that. I understand now that our feelings weren’t the same. We really weren’t working and that’s okay. It just...hurts.”

Xiao tilts his head, an innocently childish show of confusion. “Where?”

“It’s not a physical pain, Xiao. I mean, it could be. But...this is more emotional.” Your hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around his wrist. He stares down at your hand and he almost pulls away. Before he can even consider what’s happening, you’re guiding his hand to where your heart is. “In here. It hurts now, but I’ll overcome it eventually. I’m used to it anyways...”

The straight-faced adeptus remains still as he feels the fast-paced beat of your heart. Mortals have always been weak in his eyes: feeble beings who break at the slightest inconvenience. Although you don’t seem close to shattering and that confuses him more than he’d like to admit. Perhaps you are one of the more resilient humans he’s come across in recent years. It’s strange when he feels your heartbeat, so very certain and alive with the sour feelings a heartbreak brings. He’s never understood that either. Heartbreaks and relationships. The differences between friendship and romance. Both can be seen through to the very end, if fostered healthily.

So then why are you so sad?

Truthfully, you’ve always seemed sad to Xiao. As an adeptus, he’s never been able to fully grasp the meaning behind human emotions. They’re insignificant in his eyes, mere flashes of feeling that can hurt and blind. They’re troublesome and useless—certainly not something he would ever want to experience. But those emotions can heal and bring cheer. They’re not all entirely bad, nor are they as evil as he seems to think they are.

Xiao realizes his hand has been on your chest for a while now and he’s been staring at you so much that you’ve begun to shrink away, partially embarrassed to have him analyze you with so much scrutiny.

“Is...something wrong?”

He shakes his head slowly at first before retracting his arm. And then he notices you’ve stopped crying. He’s not sure when this happened, but he’s oddly relieved to see your neutral expression. Somehow your crying face is painful and it wounds him in a way he never would have imagined.

“Thank you for listening to my rant. I know this is probably meaningless to you, since you’re an adeptus and all, but it really means a lot. So I’m glad I was able to get these things off my chest. I feel a lot lighter now.”

“You’re not sad?”

“Ah. Well...” Your gaze flickers, eyes darting to and fro while you struggle to look at him. “I’m still sad, but I’ll get over it! Don’t worry! I’m resilient!”

Xiao’s brow furrows in confusion. As he has thought plenty of times before, mortals are far too complex. Eventually he sighs and says, “It’s okay to cry. Don’t keep that inside, okay? You’ll just hurt yourself even more.” Now he’s avoiding your gaze and there’s a barely noticeable tinge of pink dusting his pale cheeks. He’s really not good at consoling humans.

“Oh, Xiao.” You pull him in for a hug and he stiffens, trying to squeeze out of your arms like a cat near water. But then he feels your fingers digging into his arm and he realizes that you might actually need this hug. Despite the fact that he’s not used to freely giving out hugs—or even cheering up mortals, for that matter—he is definitely out of his element. “Really, thank you. I promise to make you an Almond Tofu as thanks.”

“There’s no need for that.” Hesitantly, as if he’s worried he’ll break you, he wraps his arms around your form. “I’m just helping you because you called my name. That’s all.”

But that’s not the full truth. Hidden in those words is the real reason why he even bothered to stay despite the false alarm. And it worries Xiao when he thinks about the implications. He really does like you and this admiration has surpassed platonic love. As long as you’re okay, though, he’ll swallow his feelings in favor of making sure you’re always happy. It’s one of his duties as your friend.

Friend. A word Xiao never thought he’d ever use, but it feels nice. He likes it.

Yet The Distance Remains Harrowing.

[Scaramouche] 

To Mend a Broken Heart—

You’re spilling your emotional guts in front of the Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, tears freely running down your cheeks like two faulty water faucets. It’s a pathetic sight, really. Scaramouche witnessed this exact show just a few weeks ago when you were so certain that that fisher was the one. Now, after meeting and getting together with someone else for a short time, you’ve come out of yet another relationship, unhappy and unsatisfied.

He’s jealous. There’s no denying the envy he feels when you talk so highly of these people and then wail about them a few days later. It’s a vicious cycle of mending a fragile heart and then breaking it into pieces all over again. With no end in sight, you fall victim to your own demise in the pursuit of love. He wonders if you’ll ever learn to choose your next partner carefully rather than settling for anything with a pulse.

“This is exactly what I said would happen, was it not?” he says with a sigh. “Oh, woe is you. If you were smarter, this last relationship might have lasted longer.”

“That’s rich coming from you. I’ve never seen you in a relationship before,” you mutter, wiping angrily at your eyes. His eyelid twitches at the not-so-subtle jab. “Ugh!I hate being so unlucky! This is the worst.”

“Rather than your foul luck, I think the problem lies within you and your taste in partners.”

Sniffling, you lower your head onto the table, hoping to just melt into the crafted wood before you end up making even more of a fool out of yourself. It’s rare to be in the company of Scaramouche, considering how often he’s assigned missions that require swift travel and a covert profile. But whenever you do find yourself sitting across from him, indulging in light snacks and tea, it’s always because you’ve lost your latest lover; and your own sadness requires the nullifying effects of Scaramouche’s cynicism.

“They’re good people! I just don’t know why it never works out. We’re happy and we both like each other—it doesn’t make any sense. Am I missing something? Is it my fault? They probably got tired of me because I’m not a good person.“

“Perhaps.” He takes a moment to sip his tea and you muster a weak glare. Only Scaramouche can delight in his beverage while you’re holding back another onslaught of tears. “Your crocodile tears are hardly flattering and your apparent need for consistent affection might come off as clingy. And you have a tendency to find flaws within yourself whenever something doesn’t go your way. Adding onto that, you doubt yourself a lot and you’re always quick to take the blame for things that are out of your control. In a way you are partially—”

“I get it. I’m not a good person.”

“I never said anything of that sort. Now you’re just asking for pity.”

Oh, how close you are to punching that smirk off of his face.

“Then since you seem to know everything, my oh so helpful friend, why don’t you tell me what I’m missing?”

“With pleasure.” His cup finds the surface of the table as he ponders your demand for a moment. “You’re missing someone who meshes well with your personality.”

“That’s not true. Everyone I’ve been with so far—“ His skeptical look makes you stop short. “Okay. Maybe we forced it because we thought it was love. But that’s besides the point! There was still an attraction! I think...” You huff and bury your face in your arms, nearly almost sprawling on the table. You’re too depressed to even consider how impolite your actions look, and Scaramouche scoffs at your poor display of manners. “Where am I even going to find someone who ‘meshes well with my personality,’ hm?”

“I’m sure you’ve already found them.” He clears his throat, tracing a finger along a sanded knot in the wooden table. “You’re sitting across from him.”

Whether he intended for you to hear that whispered part, you can’t say for sure. But your head perks up and you fix him with a lopsided grin. “You’re kidding.”

“Hm?”

“Me and you, a couple?” A small giggle escapes your lips and you swipe the remaining tears out of your eyes. “Don’t joke about that. I’m trying to be sad here!”

It wasn’t a joke, he almost says and he catches himself, suddenly self-conscious.

“I don’t think we’d work out,” you continue, motioning between you and him. “We’d hardly see each other and you don’t seem like the type for romance. Besides, I’m not attracted to you in that way. You feel the same, right?”

Scaramouche stares into his cup before he meets your gaze, a tight smile gracing his expression. “Of course. Your inability to settle isn’t all that attractive.”

Your eyes roll and you finally pick up your own cup to take a large gulp of lukewarm tea. The bitter Harbinger observes your actions with narrowed eyes. There’s a distinct pain that taps at his hardened soul, splitting it apart as your words echo within his spinning head. I don’t think we’d work out. I’m not attracted to you in that way. Why is he suddenly feeling...upset? He’s not one for pitiful emotions; he’s a Harbinger, not a lovesick fool! He ought to glare at you and storm off, demanding the two of you never speak again. But he won’t say that because he doesn’t want to hurt you. Because he cares for you. Because he loves you.

You feel the same, right?

No, that’s not right. This is the love he’s been wallowing in since he first got acquainted with you. It’s strange when he remembers every event that has led up to the blossoming feelings that reside deep in the epicenter of his heart, but it’s even more strange that he can’t find the courage to voice his own opinion.

“We wouldn’t mix,” he reaffirms your statement with a cold tone. There is no warmth in his eyes. “After all, your taste in tea is as bad as your taste in partners.”

And even though he wishes you could see through his walls—just this once he’ll allow you to tear them down for the sake of a half-baked confession—you just sit there and grin, no longer teary-eyed and forlorn. How odd. His heart feels far heavier than it’s ever been before. And you’re already scanning your surroundings, hungry for a love that will never keep you sated. Perhaps you weren’t even sad in the first place.

Upon realizing this, Scaramouche wants nothing more than to disappear into the wood like a feeble worm and never come back out.

You Must Break Another.

[sam-t-a]

Okay. 

*Deep breath* 

I think I’m finally calm enough to put into words exactly why I hated the finale and why I wasn’t completely surprised that I hated it. 

(Heads-up: this is really long and pretty negative. If you disagree, I would of course appreciate your point of view and love to hear it, but just thought I’d let you know in case this is the kind of post you would like to avoid.)

To me, it felt like every character on the show got betrayed in some way or another, but the main ones are Han Seo (devastatingly), Chayoung (obviously) and Han Seok (bear with me). 

Cha Young: 

She started out as a solid FL who annoyed some people for sure, but who had so much promise as someone unconventional and bold. The way her mother’s death affected her and caused a clear shift in her personality was a super interesting plot point that really never got explored. We have no idea how she came to sacrifice her morality in joining Wusang, just that she wanted to spite her father, which is a very superficial exploration. She gets cute idiosyncrasies in lieu of an actual character and an actual character arc. 

We also, halfway through the show, seem to forget that her father's death was the initial trigger. Cha young does not suggest bold ideas or intricate plans, she doesn’t fill the gaps Vincenzo is incapable of filling (because that would require that Vincenzo have flaws, and that’s not something the writers can abide), and she’s literally victimized in episode 19 and bedridden in episode 20, and that is IT. 

Someone who started out supposedly as Vincenzo’s equal just became another piece in his chess set, no matter how important a piece she may be. 

So her role as a badass avenger is trashed. That leaves her role as a love interest. Now, as Vincenzo’s love interest, she was supposed to get kidnapped in like episode 5 or 6 at the most if the villain has any brains whatsoever (Han Seok may or may not, more on that later). We need a reason for that not to happen too early. Cue villain is somehow in love with her for all of 15 minutes or so throughout a 20-episode series because a love triangle is inconceivable with the show’s current structure and for its purposes. 

So, she spends 15 or so episodes making the first move on Vincenzo, every time, putting herself out there, creating cute moments, getting nothing in return, and then he leaves. No confession, nothing much, he wasn’t even going to say goodbye or give her the choice of coming with him. 

I’m sure more chayenzo-oriented fans have already expressed all the necessary outrage over this, so I’ll move on to the part that I’ve personally been way more emotionally invested in from the get go: the Jang brothers. 

Han Seo: 

I was among the minority that  hated the “Vinny hyung” angle from the get-go and I’ve ranted about it in another post, so I won’t get into it here in-depth, but basically it was because I felt like Vincenzo hadn’t earned it, so to have the last words Han Seo hears be “You deserve to be my brother” or whatever the fuck he was on about PISSED ME OFF. It’s VINCENZO who doesn’t deserve to be Han Seo’s brother and hasn’t done a single thing to earn it. He was a good ally. The situation he allowed Han Seo to be a part of was beneficial to him, but Han Seo’s attachment to him was neither healthy nor heartwarming, and it certainly wasn’t returned on the level he offered it.

Vincenzo’s disregard of his death didn’t strike me as odd because I never saw enough indications that this was a two-way street and Han Seo’s safety and well-being came second so often that I didn’t get the impression Vincenzo was doing much to keep him alive. This is what I meant when I said the show was glorifying a torture survivor’s trauma responses. Han Seo himself, as a torture survivor, meant nothing to them. He was just there to create one more contrived comparison between Vincenzo and Han Seok. Instead of recovering from the trauma, it’s simply employed to someone else’s favor. He doesn’t go to prison for Han Seok, he takes a bullet for Vincenzo, and we’re supposed to see that as so much better.

All of that might (JUST MIGHT) not have ruined the show for me if he’d died better. 1) It was narratively pointless and totally avoidable, 2) they could’ve framed it as heroic, but instead Han Seok’s hand patting his head is pushing it down, so he can’t even get shot with his chin up and his back straight, Taec’s already taller, so the angle’s fucked and the whole cinematography screamed “kicking an injured puppy” and most certainly NOT “survivor finally stands up to his abuser”. The final nail in the proverbial and literal coffin is that he is mourned by no one. They’re FLIRTING not 3 MINUTES LATER, it felt so tone deaf and left such a bad taste. As I said, I didn’t expect significant mourning from Vincenzo (gotta say, I didn’t expect no mourning, that was a shocker), and Cha young and the tenants had no real interactions with him and no reason to mourn him, which left only one person who could. 

Which brings me to Han Seok. 

Han Seok started out as a solid villain, clear goals, clear skills that help him achieve his goals and basically make him a villain worth defeating, and a very complex relationship with both his own psychopathy and his brother. 

Let me get it out of the way: I do not believe Han Seok is capable of killing Han Seo because he had every reason and every opportunity to do so in previous episodes and couldn’t do it (I say couldn’t because a certain degree of reluctance is in itself inability). Han Seo’s danger far outweighed his material value the minute he shot Han Seok and then completely lost any value once he came out to the world as the chairman and it became clear that the prosecution would be going after him if anything happened, and not his brother. But time and again, he’s proven he’s all bark and no bite when it comes to Han Seo (killing-wise, specifically). 

The scene where he asks him to beat Vincenzo to death could be interpreted as him wanting to give Vincenzo the “painful death” he would have given him, but honestly, I think he was way past that point. He just wanted him dead in the “You crazy? we have to kill him before he kills us” sense. To that end, killing off a key ally of Vincenzo’s, who betrayed you and almost got you killed a bunch of times, should take priority, but Han Seok’s priority is reclaiming Han Seo by forcing him back onto his side. Now, much like his “love for Cha young”, Han Seok’s keenness on not killing his brother was essential to the writers so that Han Seo can justifiably make it this far and still be useful to Vincenzo (he can’t help if Han Seok completely excludes him from all events, plans and management processes, so Han Seok needs to want to keep him on his side enough not to do that even when it’s more prudent). 

All of this isn’t to say it’s unbelievable that he would kill Han Seo, but it’s DEFINITELY unbelievable that he would stay the same man after killing him. Someone here (I’m sorry, I don’t rememebr who) once said that Han Seo had become, over time, far more of a foil to his brother than Vincenzo was. To me, this means that Post-Han Seo Han Seok would be out of balance (tilted screen), unhinged in a way he never was before. The Han Seok we see shrugs and “oh, well”-s and moves on in a flash, not really any different from the villain he was four minutes and a whole brother earlier. 

This is very consistent with the way the show has been de-humanizing him from the start. I’m not saying this to defend Han Seok in any way, he’s a serial killer, an abuser and a total maniac. But you can be all those things and still a human being. In fact, you can ONLY be those things if you’re a human being. The show used its villain vs villain idea to justify a lot, but in the end, Vincenzo had to be a protagonist. He had to follow up every “I’m a villain” with a contrived “but at least I’m not (insert something worse)”. 

On the level of humans:

1) Vincenzo is supposedly different because he doesn’t hurt children or women (unless the women deserve it, and shooting a parent in front of their kid doesn’t count as hurting.) 

But we never see Han Seok hurting women or children either. In fact, if we proceed with the “chayoung is the myung hee of the good guys” comparison, he hasn’t hurt any women nearly as badly as Vincenzo did. 

2) Babel vs Mafia 

Babel’s corruption is compared a lot to the mafia, with Vincenzo commenting repeatedly that the people are WORSE than the mafia...which is bullshit. Babel is a set of companies that provide goods and services, but use illegal means to maximize their profit, so they hurt/kill people in the process because they want more money and care about money more than ethics. The Mafia is an inherently criminal organization that functions PURELY on the basis of its criminality. Every single dime Vincenzo spends is blood money. None of it is clean. And while we’re on the topic, I find the whole “taking Miri under his wing” thing pretty unreasonable too because he tried to have her killed you guys, I cannot believe we’re just glossing over that. He had everyone who worked on that vault killed, just random fucking construction workers. And he’s not sorry. And the show tells you he shouldn’t be. 

3) Repentance

Han Seok says outright he won’t atone, and while Vincenzo says no such thing out loud he just...doesn’t repent, I guess. He keeps the blood money, he goes back to being a full-time mafia dude doing mafia things. He leaves the same man he arrived. 

So, if on the level of harm inflicted upon humanity, Vincenzo and Han Seok are pretty much equal (and Vincenzo might actually be worse), then why should we root for Vincenzo? 

Well, my friend, that’s where the dehumanization comes in! 

I was initially very excited to see their portrayal of a psychopath because of the very interesting ways in which the informal moral code and official justice system surrounding a psychopath/sociopath/narcissist affect their behavior and their chances of not turning out rotten, and the show looked like it was looking at corruption in general. 

But as the show went on, the villain vs villain thing proved not to be enough, Vincenzo has to be better in some way (or if you’re as obsessed with him as the writers are, then ALL ways), so it became a villain vs monster narrative. Vincenzo isn’t ethical or fair or in any way interested in having a remotely positive impact on society, but at least he’s A HUMAN BEING unlike SOMEBODY. So, the characterization goes to shit, Han Seok becomes a cartoon card-board cut out of a villain and emphasis is put on how pointless his violence is, as opposed to how purposeful Vincenzo’s is. 

This is dangerous on multiple levels (and I promise this is the last point I’m making). 

1) For people in general, dehumanizing abusers/murderers/etc. makes us very liable to forget that you don’t have to be “a monster” to cause harm, and it makes people complacent in their belief that they are “not bad people” since they aren’t total monsters. The Banality of Evil is a thing, and in this series, it goes completely ignored. No one is inherently incapable of good or inherently undeserving of humanity. 

2) For victims of abuse in specific, it’s dangerous to portray abusers (including serial killer and non-serial killer ones) as entirely bad and unlovable, because it poses the dual risk of making victims less likely to acknowledge their abuse if it comes from someone who cares about or loves them on some level because the idea that someone cannot both love and hurt you is so stereotypical. Your abuser can genuinely want you in their lives and need you and, on some level, love you, and IT DOESN’T MATTER if that love doesn’t stop them from hurting you. 

On the other hand, portraying the victims of abuse as capable of flipping an off switch and hating the abuser with no hesitation or second thoughts to the point of unapologetically and cheerfully helping someone kill them and having no mixed feelings about it sends the message that if you CAN’T do that, then are you really abused? Are sure you’re not complicit in your own abuse? Do you even want to get rid of them? 

So this is basically why the way the show ended was so painfully disappointing for me. And the main reason it hit so hard was that it was initially so good and had so much promise. I really expected more.

[spaceorphan18]

You see,Klaine was the thing that made me interested in show in the first place. I’ve always thought they are one of the healthiest couple in the show and considered many of their scenes iconic. I have only one issue; every time I watch Break Up I get a bit upset with Blaine. I know Kurt also wasn’t without fault in the build up to the break up,but it just makes me mad that they decided that Blaine of all characters would actually cheat. How did you react when the episode came out? Were you upset at Blaine too? I would like to forget about that unfortunate Eli incident but every time I see Break Up,it leaves a bit of a sour taste in my mouth. And I am a bit mad too,because from what I saw,anti b constantly use the cheating excuse to badmouth Blaine,even though he also did many good things

Hi! Okay, so there are a lot of components to this answer.

First of all, my reaction when I first saw the episode was different than how I feel now. I was mad, in general, that the show wanted to even break them up. I wasn't mad at Blaine at all. Just frustrated that the writers would throw in something that, to me, felt out of character.

The thing though - after talking with a lot of people who relate to Blaine more deeply than I do - is that depression and low self worth can lead to hasty and questionable decisions. And cheating was a symptom of a much bigger issue going on with Blaine.

I'm, personally, not even bothered by it any more. I've had a lot of time to reflect and accept and understand the whys that it happened.

I'll explain a little - but before I do, I want to say this. Anyone who is anti-Blaine, or anti-your fav is always going to find something to needle them with. And the cheating is always the lowest hanging fruit when it comes to Blaine. But - these people's opinions shouldn't matter. They don't want to like him, so even if you pointed out every virtue possible, they will double down on their hate. So why waste the energy on these people? Who cares. You are not wrong for loving the character. And good characters always have flaws. <3

So... here's my thing about the cheating.

First of all, it's important to understand that this is a trope often found in the writing style of Glee, and that the writers often relied heavily on it when they went to cause conflict in their relationships. EVERY couple on the show has issues with cheating. Because the writers didn't seem to know how to write things other ways. So, you have to take the story in context and that its more normalized within the world of Glee.

Secondly - it's okay to be mad at Blaine for cheating. It's not a good thing - he hurt Kurt, but he also hurt himself. But no one is perfect, and no character should be perfect. And it's okay to be upset when someone (or a fictional character) did something wrong.

It's also important to remember though that Blaine grew from the experience - and became a better person and better partner by learning from his mistake. Yes, our actions matter. But how we emerge from those actions also matter. And Blaine and his relationship with Kurt ends up being stronger because they made it through their difficult situation.

Thirdly - how you personally feel about cheating plays a part in it. For some people - cheating is the ultimate deal breaker and there's no coming back from it. For other people - they can forgive and move on. Kurt forgave Blaine and decided that the one instance wasn't a deal breaker for him. He didn't 'settle', etc. He made a choice that he wanted to stay with Blaine.

It's okay if you don't feel the same way about those actions. And it's okay if someone can't get past that. But - Kurt did. And it's up to you whether or not you feel you can forgive the action. But, as a reminder - these are fictional characters living in a world where cheating just is viewed as differently than in the real world. Context is always important.

At the end of the day - Blaine does do a lot of good things. Sure, he fucks up along the way, as we all do, but we shouldn't be judged solely by our mistakes. The quality of our character is important, too. Love Blaine for being a complex character who falls and gets back up again, and at the end of the day, grows into a wonderful person after working his way through challenges.

And as I said above - you can be mad or frustrated by a single action. But don't let people who are already prone to their hate dictate how you feel about something. They aren't going to change their minds - so why should you let them change yours?

<3

[sigynpenniman]

Julian Bashir Playlist Time!!

Apple Music playlist (if you're a heathen and subscribe to apple music like me) here

I know that there's plenty of people making playlists, but I really feel like this is an under-utilized brand of fan content. Instead of attempting to create a list of songs that Julian would listen to, or a playlist of songs which were all lyrically directly applicable (though there certainly some of those in here) regardless of genre, I tried to create something which captured, above all, his vibes instead, by choosing songs that balance at least somewhat relevant lyrical content with the energy or feel that I associate with the character. What it means matters, but not as much as how it makes you feel. That said, I signed up for apple music and read a TON of those overwrought iTunes store album review descriptions while I was making this, so I have a whole lot to say about all my choices here. In depth explanation of my symbolism and methodology behind each song under the keep reading. (I love tumblr. I want to write 1,000 words of analysis about why I picked songs to represent Julian Bashir and some of you are gonna read it. This is where I get to pretend to be one of those iTunes music writers. I feel joy.)

Good Morning - Two Door Cinema Club TDCC's Gameshow is high on my favorite albums of all time list for nebulous reasons I myself don't really understand. It was this album, though not this song (but one that will pop up later) that actually inspired me to make this playlist to begin with, as for some reason, from the color scheme of the album cover, to the overall vibe, to the ever-present references to illness, injury, surgery and healers in the lyrics, the whole thing feels inescapably Julian to me. And with an opening like I'm a sinner/I'm the victim/I'm an alien when I'm myself/I'm a healer/I'm a fixer/I'm a present danger to my health/I'm so strong/Doing what I'm supposed to do/ There's something wrong/With somebody like me, it's hard NOT to think about Julian when you hear this song, and I can't think of a better way to start this off.

Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood I think there's a joke somewhere about bisexual people all liking Sweater Weather, and yeah, I resemble that remark. Sweater Weather is just good. You'll notice there's a sort of chill-indie-alt-electronic thing going here, and that is very much the vibe I'm sticking with. Sweater Weather slots in beautifully, both sonically and thematically. As the singer looks to warm and protect the person he's with from the cold, you can't help but feel a loving coziness coming off of this one. It always makes me feel cozy, at least, so it's here.

Gooey - Glass Animals I have nothing to analyze here because the artists themselves have said that the lyrics of this song have no meaning, they're just meant to capture a vibe, and capture it they do. Close your eyes and ride the vibes of this one. The energy is right, I love it, it belongs here.

Blue - Mika I could probably write a couple hundred words on Blue alone, in any context. This might be my beloved Mika's magnum Opus. Opening the song with the inherently counterintuitive lyric Blue is a feminine color, Mika manages to pack it ALL into this 3 minute song: questions about gender; concepts of sadness, joy, and their intersections; of the perception of melancholy as a flaw and loving people despite, or maybe because of, those "flaws" and anything else about them; a powerful first person reassurance that made me start weeping in my car the first time I heard it; just the phrase "why are humans cruel to you." And oh boy, ARE there questions of gender. Why is blue NOT considered a feminine color? Is that a good thing, a bad thing? In 3 minutes of artful poetry, Mika manages to wrap up sadness, love, joy, pain, the feminine that exists within the masculine and the masculine that exists within the feminine, in the simple color of blue and then, in one lyric, validates it all. And on a much simpler and more obvious note, this is in fact all a philosophic musing on the symbolic meaning of the color we see Julian wearing almost all the time (when he's not in uniform, almost all his civvies are also shades of blue.) I feel like this is one of those songs that's hard to analyze because it does what music and poetry does best - communicate something that cannot be communicated any other way. With these broad themes of loving others around the things they can't love about themselves, you can decide for yourself if this one is coming FROM Julian or directed AT him, either works. I find myself struggling for exactly the words to explain this one, but listen to it; you'll understand.

Little Dark Age - MGMT Another choice with no obvious lyrical relevance, but the tonal fit was just too good to pass up. The vibes pass.

The City - The 1975 This song is one of several present because it leans on medical symbolism to get its point across, though I would be lying if I said I fully understood what that point was. But the entire second verse, apparently about the song's subject suffering from some kind of illness and reassuring him that the next one's the M.D./You'll be feeling just fine, seems somehow to transmit the discomfort of illness directly to the listener. I don't know how or why, but the effectiveness of the empathy the second half of this song elicits, in me at least, puts it squarely in the "odd medical vibes" category.

Surgery - Two Door Cinema Club THIS is the song that inspired this whole playlist, mostly because of its title and general vibe. Another example (of many) of medical/anatomical references in this album (another of the songs is called Fever, etc), this song just feels like Julian to me.

The Other Side Of Paradise - Glass Animals I really like Glass Animals. That is probably becoming obvious. Aside from its delightfully cohesive vibes, this song opens with what's simultaneously the slyest and most brazen gay lyric I have heard on the radio recently, as the male singer says When I was young and stupid my love left to be a rock and roll star/HE told me... The song seems to be about a man whose male lover left him in pursuit of fame and fortune, and eventually ends up with a woman, leaving the singer behind. It's got simultaneously subtle and obvious gay themes, it's got confused love affairs, it's got so much bisexual energy. I cannot think of anything that could be more Julian.

Sit Next To Me - Foster The People Kind of like Sweater Weather, this whole song is built around a rather cute and sweet "sit next to me," and you can't help but feel a bit warm and cozy when you listen to it. I think it pairs with sweater weather well, and slides in with the rest of the picks very nicely.

Nothing Better - The Postal Service (the original band of the lead singer of Death Cab For Cutie) Another example of heavy surgical symbolism, the very first lyric of this song is Will someone please call a surgeon. This is actually a duet, and the singers speak of their real hearts to represent their emotional ones. Something about Your heart won't heal right if you keep tearing out the sutures always gets me and always will. And it vibes good. It vibes so, so good.

&Run - Sir Sly Sir Sly's &Run is my favorite song for driving too fast. It does an amazing job of musical onomatopoeia, talking about running while making you want to run. It's a song about running out of plans and running as far as you can instead, which is all very "I'm illegal by definition so I went to the farthest possible reaches of space." And like everything else here, it just feels good. It's also one of the only highlights here that I can actually see Julian listening to.

Cosmic Love - Florence and the Machine It's no coincidence that it seems like most of us who are invested in Julian Bashir are some flavor of genderqueer, be it trans, nonbinary, questioning, or something else entirely - the man's got a Gender with a capital G, and there's a whole lot going on in there. Between the words that were written for him on the page, and the words that were actually spoken, and the way he carries himself, Julian always seems caught between the white, western, and frequently toxic masculinity that the writers often seemed to want to imbue him with, and the very different, racially and culturally distinct masculinity Sid actually brought. But there's an undeniable element of the feminine in Julian too, at least by a traditional definition. The presence of this part of him at all, much less the fact that, in-universe, it's the more traditionally "feminine" parts of himself - the caregiving and nurturing aspects - that Julian seems proudest of or to like most about himself, is a large part of what makes his character so interesting, at least to me. So there was no way I was getting out of this without acknowledging that somehow, and I can't think of a better way to acknowledge a complicated relationship with the feminine side of one's own gender than with this world's own Celtic divine feminine, Florence Welch. I can't think of any better artist, at least that I know of, to represent femininity as a nonspecific ethereal goddess-concept. I basically spun the wheel of Florence here, as anything would have worked, but Cosmic Love felt very appropriate for a character who does in fact live in space. There could even be some Garashir in here, I think.

Dream Sweet In Sea Major - ミラクルミュージカル, or Miracle Musical, a sister act made up of members of Tally Hall I also couldn't leave off without acknowledging Julian's affection for classic lounge music, especially since it's the only thing about his taste in music that we actually know. But instead of tacking on some rat pack, instead I'm polishing this off with the incredibly chaotic and somehow also perfectly cohesive and calm Dream Sweet in Sea Major. It's got all of the vibes of a lounge singer but gone completely off the rails, which just seems perfect somehow. And it's also a very nice feeling to be left with, so it seems only right to put it at the end.

and if you've read all of this, I love you. Y'all didn't know I was this into music did you. but I am. oh boy. I AM.

[scandeniall]

story of us

pairing: suna x reader

the story of ur relationship <3; alternatively (more) dating sunarin headcanons but this time is somewhat of an order and talks good and bad 2K+ worth lol

a/n: i had more planned but half of these have been sitting in my notes for months and its kinda fucking long already bc he lives rent free!!!

warnings: uh the usual aged up (in ur 20s time skip type beat), language, yeah

Meeting

Now when y’all met suna was not looking to love at all. That man was just living his life and so where you. The two of you pretty much meet through komori. You’re a friend and it’s his birthday so him and a few of his friends go out for drinks bc why not. Young hot pretty financially stable v-ball players. Nah no ones there for any type of hookups literally just there celebrating a great guy.

They rent out a section at a relatively nice bar tbh. Not the cheapest and you can actually hear conversation. But also not a super expensive one where the patrons are middle aged with jazz music and the occasional track to relive “youth.” Komori’s a sweetie and will come outside to get you when you text that you’re there. You’ve met washio and ofc sakusa Before so you greet them casually then you turn and there’s Suna and a few others you haven’t met.

That greeting isn’t anything special I promise. Just “hey I’m so and so” and vice versa. It’s one of those meetings where you just think “he’s cute” but it’s such a fleeting thought. Y’all don’t even really talk that first night tbh. At the next practice Suna mentions offhandedly that he didn’t know komori was dating someone and komori is like: huh? Yeah sorry. I love (Y/N) and all but were just friends. Suna just shrugs not really caring to be honest until Komori just asks what did he think of you.

“Don’t really remember much man. Seemed cool though” he didn’t think he’d really see you again. Yeah you were close enough to have been at Komori’s birthday but if that was his first time ever meeting you, he figured you weren’t from around there are present very much. Yeah he was wrong.

Suddenly you were on Komori’s snap story more often, or maybe he’d just been noticing more. Too bad he couldn’t even remember your name 💀. Then it turned into you occasionally popping up where he was. He’d been told your name at least 5 times already but wouldn’t remember it the next day. Whenever he’d see you again he’d get a strained look like: “what is this mf name again” just laugh and tell him again bby.

That changed at some random house party by another mutual friend you two apparently had? You two were the only people just around the fire pit trying to catch some warmth in the chilly night. He’s probably just on his phone head bobbing his head to the muffled music from inside. And you’re just like “remember my name yet?” All jokingly. This sparks the tiniest bit of interest in him and he lets out a low chuckle and just admits “not at all.” I also feel like this is the first time he really looks at you and he’s like 🤨, wait you’re actually kinda cute.

That night y’all just kinda talk and vibe. The conversation comes easy as you two jump back and forth from talking about the music playing to sneakers which he brings up to stuff that you like. He’s actually really easy to talk to. So easy that u can forget about him not remembering your name despite meeting several times. You mention that you’d hung around komori before while they were gaming and that he seemed pretty cool. That leads him to asking “how do you know him anyways?”

“I used to date Sakusa”

Mentally he’s just like— ‘yeah I’m not getting involved in this. Time to go.’ Until you just start laughing.

“I’m kidding. He’s not really my type. We met after being paired together for a project in school.”

The two of you spend quite a bit of time just talking that night until you are joined again by some friends and it’s deadass like y’all weren’t just talking for almost an hour straight.

Getting Together

The process of getting together is like a cat and mouse game. You two start getting closer than friends and then something happens and you’re not talking for weeks. Whether it be life just getting busy, and then someone ending up on some random tinder date or so be it. Definitely one of those things were somehow someway y’all end up just hanging on one of your couches watching a movie. At some point there’s definitely a hint of sexual tension but neither of y’all act on it (later on you find on his finsta that he used to post several “i wont you 😔” memes  Folks can’t tell if hes joking or not (hes not))

You probably gotta tell that man you like him so if that ain’t you I’m sorry. Y’all not dating 😹. It’s something casual, y’all going to pick up some snacks for a movie night and why this mf keep looking at you out the side of his eyes instead of the road. You def texting the groupchat asking if you should confess. They tell you to boss up and just do it baby.

You literally end up confessing in that parking lot. Like right when he shuts the car off and starts swinging his keys on his finger and you kinda just blurt “I like you. Like like you.” He just kinda nods before his eyes widen. “Wait are you fr?” Like no you’re joking tf. It gets a lil awkward so you just go to get out the car and he’s like “I like like you too.”

I definitely don’t think either of you ever officially asked the other out it’s just at some point the understanding that you two are a couple. Like when you’re hanging out just you two hes more touchy, and then y’all start kissing and holding hands at some point. Then when you’re with friends he almost exclusively sits next to you and your friends notice the whispers in one another’s ears at the loud bar that seem just a hint too intimate for ppl who are just friends. Then y’all start arriving and leaving places together and people just at some point get the message (it’s later confirmed by you tweeting some shit like: I hate Rin why is that mf my boyfriend)

As far as anniversaries y’all draw straws to pick a day in the ballpark of the time y’all both think you became official. That’s the day you stick with even if it’s not true.

Relationship Flaws

A fault in the relationship is sunas kinda poor communication when it comes to things that matter. How he feels. Arguments. Love sure as hell don’t come east with anyone but when your partner won’t let you in? Yeah that’s like hell. That’s something you struggle with. And then on your end, it’s the impatience with him not letting you in. You try to wrongfully rush it.

 There’s definitely been arguments that stem from him just being upset about something unrelated to the relationship then coming to you for comfort without actually telling you what’s wrong. He kinda just wants to lay with his head on his chest but at some point that’s not enough. Y’all are in a relationship and should be able to talk about your bad days too.

You’re not innocent in this issue either because sometimes it comes off too pushy. Yes it’s from a place of care but sometimes that silent comfort is necessary. The walls will break in due time and y’all both know that deep in the back of your minds But then there’s a part that’s like— yeah we can’t let this become the norm

“Rin, can you please talk to me”

He will have literally told you “whatever” and that he “can’t deal with this rn” several times as he just shrugs and is like yeah “I’m gonna just go home. I’ll text you later” with an awkward ass pat on your shoulder if it really ruined his mood. If he’s leaving before he gets super upset and uncomfortable just some half assed kiss in your cheek

Another thing is I feel like he could be passive aggressive and let’s be real other folks doing it causes you to do it to. Y’all probably drag eachother on your finstas where you can both see it lol

But when it comes to making up he cracks first and apologizes when he started it. Or as y’all get more comfy with communication. If it’s not anything major he’ll just hit you with a text like “I��m bored come hang”

More Relationship Things

I feel like he love/hates driving. Likes the ride not always driving though. So if you ever proposed a late night drive he’d be down (if you offer to drive). He does let y’all take his car though. He reclines the seat pretty far back. Alternates between just closing his eyes vibing w/ the music or kinda just looking at you (he the type of bf that makes u nervous no matter how long y’all been together)The way he looks at you makes you nervous cause that man is fine as hell and you can just feel his eyes on you.

He films you on Snapchat and sends the video to you like “you look hot”

If he’s not ‘resting his eyes’ he’s mumbling along to the music because he has the aux. if y’all music tastes are different he occasionally throws in something you really like bc he likes how you perk up at one of your fav songs

Moving on. Y’all dap eachother up after s3x because it’s “modern romance” (boy stfu). You two came up with a sex playlist together and it’s on both of your phones. Sometimes one of you will add a troll song that the other doesn’t know and put it in the lineup. (Stole my heart by 1D has definitely played before and you were practically in tears laughing at his reaction. That was one of those songs he was like ‘yeah alright i think we’re done).

At some point you two develop your own handshake and it’s cute. Whenever either of you have to travel without the other that’s always the last thing you do before you leave eachother. There’s vids of your friends daring y’all to do your elaborate ass handshake drunk and doesn’t matter what’s in your system, you both know it like the back of your hand.

I think he values quality time a lot so there’s so many nights where you’re both just chilling in his room just doing your own things. He could just be at his desk watching some game highlights and you’re just doing hw on his bed with your own earbuds in work all spread out and he’s content. He’s also attentive so if he calculates that you’ve been working too long he’ll just take ur earbud like “hey let’s go get something to eat.”

People definitely think he’s the lazy one in the relationship but it’s 100% not true. Like stated above, he’s very attentive and can pretty much gauge how you’re feeling in the blink of an eye. He knows when you need alone time but won’t go without reassuring you that he’s here whenever you’re ready. When you do just need him he’s there without a second thought. If you’re more touchy he’ll have your head in his lap his arm running up and down your as you tell him what’s wrong. He knows when to joke about a minor inconvenience and over the course of your relationship knows when to cut the jokes and be serious with you.

He’d never admit it but he knows your coffee order by heart (he keeps up his image my asking wtf do you get everytime. Just let him LOL). He the type to peek at what you plan on wearing and ‘accidentally’ color coordinate then pull some shit like “why are you copying me”

Y’all def shit talk together. See someone doing something completely out of pocket in public— straight to ur phones you go (pack it up shade room). To the public it just looks like you aren’t paying any attention to one another on your dates but y’all are. Just over the phone so u don’t piss off ur target 😌

Y’all are very comfy in your relationship that you just say stuff. Y’all don’t even think.

“Rin, what if i crashed us in this car rn 😹”

“Do it. Might be fun”

When you two finally move in together it’s almost like how your relationship starts. Slowly more and more spares of stuff for you end up at his. He does sorta make the move near the end of your lease and is just like “you’re here more than me anyways.” (hes nervous but swears he’s not. Bby you’re literally shaking). Him moving you in is like hell. This mf takes sooooo long to help with boxes. Picks up 1 then sits for like 15 minutes. You ask for help the first few times and he’s just like “I got you” while continuing to scroll his phone.

Sleepy Shoulder kisses in the mornings. Only form a greeting you get but it’s ok

this is like my 100th dating suna hc and im still going this is SICK. it was so hard to not drop old refs bc i still believe in them 100% yes i do!!!!

[rphelperblog]

The beautiful series

“And the infinite captivates us because it allows us to believe all things are possible. That true love can last beyond time.” “It's easy to lose sight of what's real when you're lost in the stars.” “She was no lamb. She was a lion.” “Trust in this important lesson I learned long ago: Rage is a moment. Regret is forever.” “When life becomes difficult. the only source of strength we have is love. Love of others, love of self, love of life in its entirety.” “We forget our dreams, but our nightmares linger with us evermore.” “One day, someone should tell you how beautiful you are in the moonlight,” “We must taste the bitter before we can appreciate the sweet.” “I am not so captivated by the beautiful for I know beauty is only a moment in time.”
“All the best saints are sinners.” “I have learned to appreciate how the city seemed to come alive the moment the sun dipped below the horizon. Not a normal kind of alive, like sunshine and laughter. But a sinister, sensual kind of alive. A warm caress and a cool whisper.” “Each time you evade me, I only want you more. You cannot escape. You are mine.” “Men are wretched, my dear. I've sworn off them entirely. I'll keep them as friends, but they remain forever unwelcome in my heart.” “For never was a story of more woe.” “And tomorrow?" "We'll return to cloaking ourselves in comfortable lies.” “The simplest words often carried the most weight.” “Love is affliction.” “But even in its perfection, it was her, for better or for worse. Reckless, incomplete, and inappropriate.” “I am not ungrateful. For it brought to bear two of my deepest truths: I will always possess an errant young soul, no matter my age. And I will always be the shadowy creature in darkened alcoves, waiting . . . For you, my love. For you.” “The infinite captivates us because it allows us to believe all things are possible.” “Do you have a habit of dragging darkness with you everywhere you go?” “I’ve heard many people say tragedy shapes us. But I am not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, nor am I the worst thing I’ve ever done. Nothing in life is that simple.” “But if a monster takes a life, what kind of creature refuses to save one?” “I’ve heard many people say tragedy shapes us. But I am not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, nor am I the worst thing I’ve ever done. Nothing in life is that simple.” “Hang society. Well, hang it halfway at least.” “What I am has no bearing on who I become.” “But never is a long time, when you have eternity to consider.” “she walks in beauty like the night..” “Real love may be a choice, but I plan to choose someone who steals the breath from my body and haunts my very dreams. That is the only kind of love worth having.” “And is that not the best gift any trial in life can give you? The power to love yourself today better than you did the day before.” “Men were the worst kid of heroes. Riddled with flaws they refused to see.” “Then why have you given me the choice, against this inclination?” “Because I should not make your story about me.” “One must die so the other may live.” “Another moment. And another. My life is reduced to nothing but these stolen moments.” “There is a moment that forever marks your life as before and after.” “A true hero would find a way back to her. Would seek a path of redemption for his lost soul. A chance to stand once more in the light. “There is no such path. And I am no one's hero. So I choose the way of destruction.” “I want to love and hope and die with all the limitation that make such a life worth of living.”

[flowercrown-bard]

To give without knowing (12/?)

word count: ~10k

read on AO3

previous  / next /  masterpost

content warning: self-deprication, fear of abandonment

The tap room was smaller and quieter than the average one Geralt encountered on the Path. It was a nice change. People enjoying their quiet meant that Jaskier didn’t leave Geralt’s side too often to play and when he did, he was not once met with angry criticism or things being thrown at him.

Right now, Geralt was leaning back on the bench at the edge of the room, watching Jaskier perform with a quiet smile that no one but Jaskier would notice.

Jaskier was sitting perched on top of a table with some sailors banging on the surface in rhythm of the sea shanty they had requested. Today must be one of the rare days that they asked for more music than usual. Perhaps as a last farewell before going back to sea the next day.

Whatever the reason, Geralt didn’t complain, not when Jaskier had found such an appreciative audience.

This was so different from how Jaskier usually performed, but it was obvious that Jaskier was enjoying himself. His face was flushed and every once in a while he interrupted his singing and let one of the sailors improvise a new verse. As he sang foreign songs of sailors longing for their loves they had left behind on land, he kept glancing at Geralt.

It sent a shiver down Geralt’s spine and he couldn’t have torn his eyes away from Jaskier if he had wanted to.

Geralt wasn’t foolish enough to let himself believe that this eye contact meant anything. Jaskier just wanted to share this happy moment with his friend, nothing more. And it should have been enough, really. But there was no harm in imagining that there was more to it. If Geralt’s eyes lingered on the curve of Jaskier’s smile a little too long while he imagined what it would feel like to taste that smile, no one needed to know. Jaskier would never need to find out that for just this moment, Geralt let himself dream that maybe Jaskier wanted to kiss Geralt until his perpetual scowl turned into a smile of his own.

With the way Jaskier’s eyes were shining with joy when they found Geralt, it wasn’t hard to pretend that Jaskier didn’t want to ever look away from him.

But he did.

Vaguely, Geralt was aware of the door opening. It didn’t really matter until Jaskier’s eyes drifted to whoever had wandered in. His entire face lit up with the brightest smile and something cold settled in Geralt’s stomach. He had gotten too used to that smile being directed at only him that he had forgotten what it felt like to see Jaskier look at someone else like that.

Without meaning to, he turned to follow Jaskier’s gaze. The pit in his stomach grew when his eyes landed on the woman. There was no reason for him to scowl at her and will her to go away, but apparently the selfish part of him that wanted to keep Jaskier’s smiles to himself didn’t need a reason.

He wanted to get up, to disrupt Jaskier’s song and ask him to leave; anything to stop him from talking to her.

But as he watched the woman return Jaskier’s smile and wave at him, Geralt knew that it was already too late.

Which was fine. Geralt had no right to stop Jaskier from talking to others, especially not when the sight of them evidently made him happy.

Even in the dim light of the tap room, Geralt could see the woman’s strikingly blue eyes that were almost as bright as Jaskier’s. At least that was true for the one eye Geralt could see. The other one was hidden behind a strand of light blond hair that fell into her face. It was the sort of thing that Jaskier would be able to sing countless ballads about. The sort of thing he would take as a temptation. In his mind Geralt could already see Jaskier brushing the hair behind the woman’s ear before leaning in for a kiss.

Geralt’s insides twisted, even though he told himself that his worries were unfunded and unfair. Jaskier was just greeting her, nothing more. Even if he did kiss her, it was none of Geralt’s concern. Jaskier could kiss whomever he wanted. What was it any of Geralt’s business if that was anyone but him?

Despite his pathetic attempts to calm himself, the twist in his gut didn’t go away. His treacherous thoughts were bad enough, but the reality of the situation was so much worse.

Jaskier stopped playing mid-song. Jaskier never interrupted a performance – except, of course, for when Geralt came into a room bleeding and covered in monster innards, but that hardly counted. It wasn’t as if any attention would stay on Jaskier if Geralt appeared like that.

Now, though, Jaskier jumped from his spot on the table and left the sailors to continue the song on their own. He swung his lute onto his back and spread his arms wide as he walked towards the woman with purpose.

“A sight for sore eyes,” he declared with a grin.

Before Jaskier could reach her, she rolled her pretty eyes at him. “Don’t think you can distract me with compliments from the fact that you stopped playing as soon as I came in.” She quirked an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “Scared I’d leave again if I had to listen to you sing?”

Geralt’s frown deepened with every word and he gripped the edge of the table tightly to stop himself from getting up and putting himself between Jaskier and the woman who dared to insult him like that. Jaskier could handle insults well enough on his own, but that didn’t chance the fact that Geralt’s insides twisted at her words. Just moments ago, Jaskier had been brimming with happiness. He had been so excited about learning those new songs and having appreciative company to sing with.

Geralt’s chest clenched at the thought of Jaskier’s face falling at the woman’s words.

But Jaskier’s face didn’t fall. His shoulders didn’t slump and he didn’t turn tail in dejection. Instead he threw his head back with a hearty laugh, as comfortable as if he had known the woman for years. As if her words hadn’t been insults at all but intimate teasing, not unlike the way Geralt bantered with Jaskier whenever he asked him for a review for his songs. But that was their thing.

Once Jaskier’s laughter subsided, he breached the last bit of distance between himself and the woman and pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her cheeks.

Geralt couldn’t see Jaskier’s face when he pulled back, but he was certain he knew exactly how Jaskier looked at the woman. It must be the same way he had looked at countless other pretty people. The same way that Geralt looked at Jaskier.

Except contrary to Geralt, Jaskier was allowed to admire, to touch, to kiss.

This was... This was fine. Good even. Jaskier shouldn't have to admire from afar. He deserved to be happy. And oh, he looked so happy right at this moment.

And Geralt... He was happy for Jaskier. It didn't matter that his smile had turned into a thin-lipped line or that his hands were clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his own skin painfully.

When Jaskier gestured over to him and took the woman by the hand to lead her to Geralt's table, he forced himself to relax. He didn't know what to feel. A part of him was preening with satisfaction because Jaskier had remembered him even though he had the attention of a beautiful woman on him. Another bigger part of him wished Jaskier could have forgotten about him and went somewhere else instead. He dreaded what was surely to come. It was one thing to know what Jaskier was up to while he was out of sight. It was something else entirely having to sit at the same table and bear witness to how Jaskier looked at and touched someone else into he was Geralt longed for.

An ugly green-eyed beast reared its head inside Geralt’s chest and it took all of his willpower to stop himself from scowling at the woman who sat down next to Jaskier, opposite of Geralt.

Jaskier deserves to be happy. He repeated over and over in his mind. I can't scare her off. She’ll be gone by tomorrow morning anyway.

“Geralt, this is Essi. The second-best bard on the continent,” He gave Essi a playful smirk that only got wider when she elbowed him in the ribs, “and a dear friend of mine.”

Geralt’s clenched fists relaxed and the frown slowly disappeared from his face. Of course. She was a friend. Not everyone Jaskier met was someone he’d want to kiss – Geralt was living proof of that. The hint of a real smile tugged at Geralt’s lips. It was nice to meet a friend of Jaskier’s instead of an old lover for once.

Evidently encouraged by Geralt’s smile, Jaskier added, “Maybe you’ve even heard of her before? Though probably under a different name. She goes by Little Eye, for obvious reasons. She might be the second-best bard, but alas, even I can’t pretend that she isn’t the one with the prettiest eyes.”

Geralt almost opened his mouth to protest, when he froze. It was – no. It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be her.

With all his might, Geralt tried to keep the memory out of his mind, but the lines Jaskier had sung so many times, praising his beloved and longing for them – for her – came back to him unbidden.

Lines about blazing eyes that were beautiful enough that Jaskier wanted to spend all day looking into them.

How often had Geralt scoffed at those verses, not only out of jealousy? He had always thought that no pair of eyes could be remarkable enough for Jaskier to fall for them so deeply. But now here he was, attempting to make his friend blush with sweet words about her eyes.

He looked at Essi more closely, desperate to find something that would disprove his dreadful suspicion.

But Essi’s blond hair could surely be described as moonlight-strands and the way she moved was undoubtedly graceful, maybe even as deadly elegant and dancelike as Jaskier called it in his song. Jaskier’s rhymes for his beloved spoke of bravery and kindness. Certainly, no one who willingly followed Jaskier to sit at the same table as a witcher could be anything other than brave and kind.

With every second spend trying to find some flaw in Essi, some hint that she couldn’t be the one Jaskier had yearned for for who knew how long, Geralt only found more and more evidence – more and more reason for Jaskier to be fascinated by her, to adore her.

In one word, Essi was beautiful. Exactly the type of person Jaskier would fall in love with with naught but a glance. Geralt had seen such a thing happen countless times before, but foolishly he had hoped that he wouldn’t have to witness it again. Now that he knew what it felt like to fall in love, he didn’t think he would be able to bear seeing Jaskier do so again.

There had been verses about gentle and talented hands that created the most wonderful things– and what hands could be gentler than those of a bard who was able to create music out of thin air? After all, Geralt had stared at such hands before, craving their touch. Why wouldn’t Jaskier do the same?

And what better reason to come to the coast than to finally find the woman he had been singing about for months?

As if Jaskier had read Geralt’s thoughts, he said, “I’ve been meaning to visit her for ages.”

Essi lifted one perfect eyebrow in amusement. “Is that so? I was under the impression that you were avoiding me. Or rather, you were avoiding introducing me to your companion.”

Jaskier spluttered something unintelligible and rubbed the back of his neck, but he didn’t deny the accusation. Geralt’s heart dropped. He knew that Jaskier enjoyed his company, but he also had other people that were important to him. Loved ones that evidently he hadn’t been able to see in a long time because of Geralt.

Was it because despite liking spending time with Geralt, he was ashamed to be seen with him? Surely there was a difference between appearing together in towns were no one knew them personally and showing his friends who he was travelling with. Or had Jaskier hesitated to let Geralt meet his friends because he knew that Geralt would make them feel uncomfortable?

Hadn’t Geralt known that all along? That his looming presence was the thing that kept Jaskier’s beloved away from him?

Whatever the reason, Geralt had been the one who had kept Jaskier away from people that were important to Jaskier, even without meaning to.

He couldn’t ruin this for him, not again, not now, not when he had been so happy to see Essi.

Geralt couldn’t bring himself to thaw his smile, but he nodded at Essi in greeting. She didn’t seem to mind his rudeness. As if Geralt’s behaviour was perfectly normal and polite, she leaned forward and looked at him with barely concealed interest.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to meet you." Her cocked her head to the side and the strand of her fell away from her face. "You know, Jaskier normally doesn't hesitate to talk about the people he lo-"

Before she could finish that sentence, Jaskier cut in. "Ah, Essi, dear, could we maybe talk about that later?" His eyes darted between Geralt and Essi, while he tried and failed to look nonchalant. "Somewhere a little more private? Alone?"

Jaskier wasn't especially subtle in telling Geralt that he and Essi would need a room later nor was this his best attempt at flirting. If Geralt hadn't known any better, he'd even say that he wasn't flirting at all.

Except that Jaskier flirted with everyone. Almost everyone.

Perhaps he had known and courted Essi for long enough that there was no more need for subtlety. She certainly didn't seem to mind the clumsiness of it, if the widening of her grin was any indication.

"By the way, Jaskier, you're looking gorgeous today, as always." Jaskier gave her a confused look, but then he blanched and gave her the tiniest but still empathetic shake of the head that she ignored. "Wouldn't you agree, Geralt?"

Geralt's throat went dry. He couldn't - what was he supposed to say? He couldn't very well tell her the truth, that there was nothing as beautiful as when Jaskier laughed and that he didn't want to ever look away from his eyes when they sparkled with joy. He couldn't say that. Not to Jaskier and certainly not to the woman who probably got to see his smiles far more often than Geralt did.

So instead he just let out a grunt that came out more strangled than it should have. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Jaskier's shoulders fall, probably in relief that Geralt hadn't said anything incriminating.

Geralt didn't want to know how Jaskier would react if he had told him the truth.

Essi didn't seem to mind Geralt's non-answer. She was clearly having the time of her life watching Geralt squirm uncomfortably, for her attention didn't drift back to Jaskier as it should.

"So, Geralt, tell me about what it's like travelling with Jaskier. It must be wonderful to spend so much time with him. Surely something one would want to do for the rest of their life?"

It was wonderful. The best thing that had ever happened to Geralt. And lately, ever since Jaskier had started talking of how he would stay with Geralt, he has started to hope that he could have this. That he could keep Jaskier by his side for the rest of his life.

Now he wasn't so sure anymore. When Jaskier has said those things, there had been no pretty woman sitting next to him, implying that he could stay with her instead.

Geralt's jaw clenched and he did his best to ignore the sound of Jaskier drumming a nervous rhythm onto his own thigh.

He swallowed thickly and searched for what he could say that was close enough to the truth but far enough that it wouldn't make Jaskier uncomfortable in the presence of his conquest.

"It's... different. I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

How could he, when all he had known before were cold, quiet, lonely nights and sneers, shouts and stones?

Despite his best efforts to keep his tone neutral, his voice must have shown some of what he felt, for Jaskier let out a shuddering breath and Essi’s brows furrowed.

"That's it? Different?" she asked in disappointment. "But different how? What are the best parts of being with Jaskier? What do you love most about him? I'm sure there is a lot to love after all and –“

"Essi," Jaskier said quietly and his face was unreadable as he placed a hand on her arm. "Please." Something shifted in her expression. It became soft and almost protective. She put her hand on Jaskier's hand gave it a gentle squeeze as she nodded.

With seemingly no trouble at all, she steered the conversation in a different direction, but Geralt paid no attention to it. His mind was too preoccupied with the question that had sounded so innocent and that was so impossible to answer at the same time.

There was too much that he loved about Jaskier. The way he leaned against him while laughing about a particularly bad joke. The way he would quiet down when he noticed that Geralt needed it. The way he was dishevelled in the mornings, uncaring that he didn't look as perfect as he normally did. To Geralt he did then too. Maybe even more so than when he dressed up for balls or banquets. It wasn't Geralt's favourite part of travelling with Jaskier - it was impossible to pick just one - but the way Jaskier would blink up at Geralt in the mornings, maybe grumble a bit as he hid under the covers, might just be Geralt's favourite part of each day.

It made Geralt want to brush his ruffled hair out of his face and kiss him.

Gods, how Geralt wanted to kiss him. In the mornings when they were both barely awake, when his eyes shone during a performance, when it was just the two of them in a quiet forest clearing, when they were surrounded by other people and Jaskier was the only safety beside him.

It was just a fantasy - an impossible one at that, now more so than ever - but Geralt treasured it, even if all he could do was watch Jaskier and admire him from afar even as they were sat right next to each other. Even so, Geralt knew he wasn't allowed to look at Jaskier in the way he wanted to. In the way everyone else was allowed to, those people who might give Jaskier coy smiles and openly admiring glances until in return Jaskier gifted them with a kiss and his love.

Geralt wanted that. He wanted it so much it hurt.

But maybe he had something even better. Because Jaskier didn't stay with his lovers. They didn't keep his kisses and undivided attention for long.

Geralt, however, Geralt has had Jaskier by his side for years. No matter how alluring a lover was or how much they begged Jaskier to stay with them, he would always return to Geralt.

Some days, this knowledge was the only thing keeping Geralt's chest from splitting wide open when he watched Jaskier approach someone else with a smile and the clear intention to charm and fall in love. Knowing that Jaskier always came back, even though all Geralt could offer was friendship and a hard Path, might be what Geralt loved the most about Jaskier. It wasn't much but it had always been enough, just how Geralt for some inexplicable reason had always been enough for Jaskier to return to.

Except now it - he - might not be enough anymore. Jaskier obviously knew Essi, had clearly held her dear for a long while. And he had come back to her. From the way he looked at her now and joked with her easily, Geralt was sure that Jaskier would happily return to her again and again. Worse even, with his song Jaskier had unmistakably declared that he would want to stay with her forever.

Would Geralt now become one in a long line of people left behind heartbroken by Jaskier while he stayed with someone he held more dear, forgetting all about him?

Geralt had thought having to watch Jaskier fall in love would have been hard, but this was so much more painful. Jaskier was already in love. Maybe even with one who would finally drive him from Geralt's side.

Essi was stunning. She clearly was talented, if the way Jaskier had praised her before was any indication. She was someone Jaskier might just stay in love with.

Cold dread pooled in Geralt's stomach. It was just as clear that Essi loved Jaskier - and how could she not? She knew that Jaskier was beautiful, she already imagined living with him forever, just like Geralt did. Except he was sure that Jaskier wasn't imagining living with him forever, no matter what he said. With Essi however...

Geralt wanted him to stay. No matter how selfish and unfair, he wanted Jaskier to never leave him.

"And this is the first one I found after the bear broke."

Jaskier's voice tore Geralt out of his thoughts. His eyes left Jaskier's face just long enough to see that he had taken out the wooden bird Geralt had carved so many months ago. Essi's eyes widened.

"You found two of them?" she asked, her voice full of wonder. She hesitated for a heartbeat, asking Jaskier for permission with her eyes before she reverently touched the bird. Something inside Geralt grew hot and acidic at the sight. Luckily, Essi didn't notice. "They are so rare! Most people are lucky if they find one."

Jaskier's smile became smug and his lifted his chin. "Oh, my darling Essi, I have found far more than two. The others are in my room. I just like having the bird with me for good luck while I sing."

"How... Jaskier that's incredible." She took a sidelong glance at Geralt. "Is it because you're travelling together? A witcher and a bard, that must be something the fae would find interesting."

Jaskier hesitated before sharing a knowing look with Geralt, though Geralt couldn't figure out for the life of him what exactly that look was supposed to mean, what secret knowledge they were supposed to share.

"Well, I can't really tell why I'm getting all those gifts. But they appear more often when Geralt is happy. Or they seem to make him happier after I got them."

Essi's lips twitched. "Better keep him happy then."

Jaskier blushed furiously but didn't respond.

He didn't need to. Geralt spoke up before Jaskier could even think about opening his mouth.

"It's not about me. Those are for Jaskier and only him. To make him happy, not me."

Both bards looked at him dumbfounded for a second. Essi was the first to get a grip of herself, turning her attention back to the bird in Jaskier's hands. Jaskier on the other hand kept his eyes on Geralt, an unreadable expression on his face that made Geralt want to lean forward and trace the small crease between his brows with his fingers until it disappeared under his tender ministrations.

"Have you ever found any carvings, Geralt?" Essi asked him curiously.

He shook his head, grateful for the excuse to avert his eyes from Jaskier's burning gaze, though simultaneously he mourned the loss.

"I have no need for them. Witchers don't need luck. We don't get gifts." With a hint of bitterness, the next words slipped out before he could stop himself, "We don't get to have beautiful things."

He forced himself not to look at Jaskier at those last words. It didn't help that he heard his soft gasp anyway and that Jaskier's hand found his where it was balled to a fist in the table. He relaxed under the almost tender touch and it took all of his will power not to turn his hand and intertwine their fingers.

When he met Essi’s eyes, he tensed. There was something in the way she looked at him that unnerved him. Her eyes drifted to where Jaskier was touching him and then back to his face, searching. Then, her eyes widened in recognition and Geralt’s stomach dropped.

She knew. Somehow she knew what he felt for Jaskier.

Cold sweat tickled down his neck and he forced himself to pull his hand away from Jaskier’s touch despite how desperately he wanted to keep him close. With Essi watching him like a hawk, he knew he wasn’t allowed to indulge in this hopeless fantasy anymore. He wouldn’t hinder Jaskier’s happiness with Essi by making her think Jaskier would stay with someone like him. He wished Jaskier would want to. He wished Jaskier’s assurances that he did could be believed. And he had believed them. He had trusted Jaskier; he still did.

And maybe that was the problem. Jaskier had promised Geralt he’d stay by his side. Geralt didn’t doubt he had meant it. But now…either Jaskier would break his word and Geralt’s heart or he would keep his word and break his own heart.

Geralt knew which one he preferred.

When he had first heard the song about Essi, he had been torn about what he’d do if he ever met the object of Jaskier’s love. If he was being honest with himself, he still didn’t have a clear answer. A part of him still wanted to make sure Jaskier would stay with him. Another part that put a heaviness into his chest knew that he wouldn’t be able to do that. Maybe he wouldn’t be strong enough to tell Essi to confess her love to Jaskier, but he wouldn’t be able to do anything to keep them apart.

He wanted Jaskier to be with him, more than anything, but not at the cost of his happiness. Geralt couldn’t be Jaskier’s happiness. But maybe Essi could.

So Geralt plastered the hints of a smile on his face, trying desperately to ignore the way Jaskier’s face fell when Geralt pulled away from him and turned the conversation and Jaskier’s focus back to Essi where it belonged.

Too bad the only thing Geralt could think to say, was still related to his own aching heart.

“Have you ever found one of the fae-gifts?”

He cursed his own words as soon as they had left his lips. He didn’t know what answer he feared more. It was irrational and petty, but he didn’t want Essi to have one of his carvings. For years it had been none of his concern who kept hold of them, but now it seemed to be of utmost importance that Essi didn’t have one of them.

But maybe worse than that would be if she had never found any. True, Jaskier was protective of his collection, but he had given away the sheep to someone who was practically a stranger. There was no guarantee he would hesitate to give one of his animals to Essi.

Perhaps the bird, to compliment her undoubtedly beautiful singing voice. Or maybe he would give her the cat and make a play of words on a cat chasing a songbird or something of the sense. Surely not the fish, because Geralt couldn’t for the life of him figure out a way in which Jaskier could possibly give Horse to Essi without it coming across as an insult. The same was true for the snake.

Geralt’s stomach churned. He couldn’t even bring himself to think of the possibility that Jaskier might give away the wolf. The mere idea was enough for nausea to rise up in him.

So lost in his own thoughts, Geralt barely caught Essi’s reply.

“Sadly not. Not all of us can get so lucky as Jaskier.” She grinned at Geralt as if they were friends, as if she wasn’t about to take the most important person in Geralt’s life away from him. “Then again, he needs all the luck he can get and then some.”

Jaskier squawked in indignation, utterly undignified in the particular way he normally only was when Geralt complained teasingly about his music. “Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?” He huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, but after a brief pause and a glance at Geralt that Geralt tried his best not to read anything into, Jaskier’s eyes softened. “I believe I can count myself very lucky. Probably the luckiest man on the continent.”

Geralt snorted before he could stop himself. The very notion of Jaskier being lucky was ridiculous. Jaskier didn’t need luck. He was charming and talented and beautiful. He had earned every single good thing that had befallen him.

Geralt on the other hand still didn’t have the slightest clue what had earned him Jaskier’s presence in his life. Out of the two of them, Geralt had no doubt that he was the lucky one.

Thankfully, before Geralt had a chance to run his mouth and voice any of his incriminating thoughts, the sailors from before called out for another song.

Jaskier looked at Geralt as if asking for permission to get up and play again. Geralt did his best to give him a look that conveyed that he was good enough and needn’t fear playing in front of Essi despite her teasing. It must have worked, for Jaskier picked up his lute again before turning to Essi.

"Will you join me?" The teasing twinkle was back in his eyes. "Play a little duet to determine once and for all which one of us is better?"

Essi snorted, her lips curling up. "I think we both know who is superior." She waved him off with a hand and a mischievous grin. "You go play first. I wouldn't want to take all the glory away from you without giving you a chance to get some applause first."

Jaskier hesitated, his eyes darting between Geralt and Essi.

"Fine," he sighed eventually when the shouts demanding another song continued. "Be nice, Essi."

"I always am."

It was strange that Jaskier didn't warn Geralt to not scare her off. Maybe he didn't think it would be of any use. After all, he had known Jaskier for long enough to know that Geralt's attempts at being nice weren't very successful most of the time.

Jaskier bit his lip for a second and looked down at the bird he had still clutched in his hand. Geralt's insides twisted. Any moment now Jaskier would hand the figure to Essi.

He didn't. Instead he held it out to Geralt, as if it was the most natural thing; as if there wasn't a pretty woman right next to him who would love to hold the figure in her hand.

Geralt's heart stuttered in his chest and he had to will it to slow back down when Jaskier gave him an indecipherable look.

"Take care of the songbird?"

Geralt enclosed the bird with both of his hands and his fingers brushed against Jaskier's as he slowly let go.

"I always do." Geralt's voice was more serious than the situation called for, but for whatever reason, Jaskier approved, for he gave Geralt one of his brilliant smiles before he left, a song already on his lips.

A lump formed in Geralt's throat as he watched Jaskier take his place in the middle of the room once more. His attention was so fixated on Jaskier that it took him embarrassingly long to notice Essi scrutinizing him curiously with her chin propped up on her hand.

When he finally noticed, she lifted an eyebrow knowingly and her lips twitched.

"Oh, don't let me stop you from watching him," she teased. "He is a bit pretty, isn't he?"

Geralt didn't reply, not knowing what kind of answer would be acceptable.

Still, something must have shown on his face, for something shifted in Essi's expression. Her gaze dropped to the songbird held carefully in Geralt's hands.

"He seems to think you need luck talking to me," she said with a nod to the bird.

Geralt's brows rose. "Do I?"

He was sure that he already knew the answer.

"That really depends."

Dread pooled in Geralt's stomach. "On what?"

"On whether or not you're planning on hurting him." Essi's eyes narrowed and the easy smile from before fell away, revealing a calm sort of sternness that would have intimidated any man who wasn't used to facing worse than an angry woman. It might even come close to the look Vesemir got before scolding the younger wolves. "Because if you do hurt him, no amount of luck in the world will keep you safe."

The words were clearly meant as a threat, but something unwound in Geralt's chest. "He's really important to you, isn't he?" he asked quietly. "You won't let anything happen to him?"

"Never," she said heatedly. "I'd fight the world before I'd let him get hurt. I'll fight you if you ever so much as think about hurting him."

"I won't," Geralt said and it felt like a confession.

He didn't have Essi's empathetic words, but he had this certainty in his chest that whatever he did, he would do everything in his power to keep Jaskier safe. Then again, travelling with Geralt was the most dangerous thing Jaskier could do. Even if Geralt would never hurt him, he couldn't promise that no harm would come to Jaskier as long as he was with Geralt.

A wry smile twisted Geralt's lips. "But I don't think you'll have to worry. We both know he won't be travelling with me for much longer."

Not if he could be with Essi instead. Geralt didn’t want to think about this possibility, but it wouldn't be fair towards Jaskier to drag him away from her. Geralt wouldn't stand in Jaskier's way, even if it led him away from Geralt.

"Why?" Essi asked with sudden urgency. "For years Jaskier had only talked about you but he refused to let me meet you. Why now? What has changed between the two of you?"

Geralt faltered at the question. His mind was racing, trying to come up with an answer, but he found none. Nothing had changed with Jaskier. He had been happy as ever.

It was true, he had sung more of those yearning love songs but that wasn't anything irregular. Nothing in his behaviour had even hinted at him wanting to leave Geralt anytime soon. If anything, he had been more adamant than ever to stay, touching him with increasing confidence and laughing with him more carefree than ever.

So if Jaskier hadn't changed that only left one conclusion. The problem wasn't Jaskier's changed feelings, it was Geralt's.

Though they hadn't exactly changed either. Geralt had just finally realised what had been there all along. He had finally found a word to the feeling that had been creeping up on him and ensnared him without him realising or resisting.

But Geralt had thought... He hadn't behaved any differently, had he? He hadn't said anything to let his secret slip and he hadn't let his eyes and hands wander to Jaskier too often. Or maybe he had?

He must have done something wrong to tip Jaskier off.

Fear's icy claws plunged into Geralt's chest. Jaskier knew. Of course he did. He sang about love and yearning constantly. If anyone were able to recognise Geralt's emotions, it would be Jaskier. Perhaps he had even known for longer but had been able and willing to ignore it as long as Geralt hadn't acted on it. But now that Geralt knew what he felt as well, maybe Jaskier was uncomfortable being around him? It was one thing being a witcher's friend, but it wasn't unlikely that even Jaskier drew the line at being loved by one.

An abyss opened up in Geralt's chest. Was this truly it? He didn't want to believe it, but it was the only explanation he could come up with that made sense.

Judging from his songs, Jaskier had been yearning for Essi for a while now. So what better excuse to get away from Geralt than to pursue his own love? If Jaskier broke Geralt's heart in the process and made sure Geralt would stay away from him because of his hurt feelings, then that was just an added bonus. Perhaps he even wanted Geralt's protection to get to the coast, a convenient way to get there safely.

Geralt couldn't imagine that was it, didn't want to imagine. Jaskier was many things, but he wasn't cruel. He was Geralt's friend and Geralt trusted him.

Or perhaps this was Jaskier's way of being kind, of letting Geralt down gently? If Jaskier showed him now whom he had to compete with - as if Geralt could ever have any hope of winning Jaskier's heart even without competition - then surely Geralt would forget about his feelings before he'd do something stupid like confess his feelings and make them both uncomfortable and miserable.

Well, if that had been Jaskier's goal, he had failed. Though not too long ago Geralt himself had thought that he would be able to get rid of this ache in his chest when he saw Jaskier with his beloved, he now knew better. He wouldn't be able to forget this feeling, whether he had his heart broken or not. And he didn't want to forget. He'd rather watch Jaskier be in love and still admire how his eyes softened when he looked at his beloved than never feel that warmth in his chest again, however painful it was. Jaskier was too important for him to just forget.

But oh, how painful it was. Right at this moment, as Jaskier sang if love and the fear of loss, his eyes drifted over to them - no, not to them, to Essi - so full of longing and aching and love.

How could Geralt not recognise the look when it was the same one he gave Jaskier when he wouldn't notice? When it was how he wished he could look at Jaskier openly? When it was how he wanted Jaskier to look at him?

But he didn't. He never would. Geralt could fantasise all he wanted that he was the one Jaskier's eyes were resting on with so much wanting, but he knew it wasn't the truth. He knew the real object of Jaskier's longing was sitting right across from Geralt, still waiting for an answer she wouldn't receive from him.

Maybe she already knew. Judging from the way she looked between him and Jaskier there was no hiding from her. It didn't matter anyway. Geralt knew he stood no chance against her. He was no threat to someone like her.

She must be aware of that too, for her eyes crinkled with a smile that unnerved Geralt more than any threat could.

“It must be the fae-gifts,” Geralt blurted out. It was an obvious and pitiful attempt to distract from what he felt, but it was better than letting the truth hang between them. It was better than giving Essi the chance to say it out loud. “He started finding them in spring. He said that those who find them will find their true love within a year.” And evidently Jaskier had known perfectly well where exactly he had to search for his love to find her.

Something shifted in Essi’s expression and for a moment she looked like she wanted to say something before her mouth snapped shut. There was a question in her eyes, then a realisation.

Geralt’s stomach sank and he was left feeling cold.

Essi hadn’t known. Somehow, through some miracle, she hadn’t known what Jaskier felt for her, even though his affection was as clear as day to anyone who bothered to look at him for longer than a second.

And now Geralt had brought forth her realisation. He didn’t know what was worse; the guilt of taking away Jaskier’s chance to confess his feelings properly or the fact that she now focussed back on Jaskier, a determined look on her face and stood up.  

“Excuse me,” she said, sounding not at all apologetic, “I believe it is time for me to join Jaskier.”

Geralt didn’t protest, though his fingers twitched to hold her back. Not that it would make a difference. It was already too late for him, whether Essi joined Jaskier or not.

Still, it was a special kind of torture watching her lean in close to Jaskier and whisper something in his ear that made his eyes widen and a blush spread across his cheeks.

Geralt’s mouth went dry when Essi started playing the intro of the next song while Jaskier still stood frozen, watching her, transfixed.

It didn’t take long for Geralt to understand this reaction. It wasn’t just that Essi was good, it was that the song she was playing was the song. The one about beautiful eyes and moonlit hair. The one about her.

Jaskier threw a helpless, almost panicked look over at Geralt who offered him an encouraging and apologetic smile that hopefully didn’t look as forced as it felt.

Jaskier accepted Geralt’s smile and silent apology with a small nod. Though he didn’t appear any less anxious, his voice was clear and full of feeling when he joined in the song, harmonising perfectly with Essi.

With a sudden jolt of his heart, a calm washed over Geralt that was almost enough to push the agonising burn in his chest away.

This was what Jaskier deserved, standing on stage with another bard. Someone who could be close to him and understand him in a way Geralt would never be able to. Someone who could compliment his voice with theirs just as they could give compliments to him; words that weren’t clumsy and almost insulting even as they were meant to make him feel appreciated. This wasn’t just what Jaskier had yearned for. It was what Jaskier deserved. Essi was.

They looked beautiful together. Like they belonged together. Whereas when Geralt stood next to Jaskier, the bard’s beauty only made Geralt’s flaws all the more apparent. No one would ever look at Geralt and think that he could belong to the beautiful, brilliant bard.

Essi however…she looked gorgeous. Someone Jaskier didn’t have to be ashamed of being seen with. As long as he was with her people would throw roses instead of stones and praise instead of insults.

Geralt averted his eyes. They fell on his own twisted reflection on a dirty window.

His jaw clenched. He wanted nothing more than to flee. He didn’t. There was no doubt that Jaskier would notice if Geralt stormed off, even if his eyes were trained on Essi and Geralt couldn’t risk ruining this moment for him.

When the song finally ended and the two bards returned to their table, Geralt let out a relieved sigh. Not that watching them touch and smile at each other this closely was any better.

But for some reason, Jaskier didn’t stay close to Essi. Instead he slid onto the bench next to Geralt, so close that their thighs were almost touching. Geralt had to resist the urge to breach the distance. It wouldn’t do to lean into him. Especially not now that Jaskier’s love was letting herself fall into a seat opposite him. Perhaps that was the reason why Jaskier had sat down next to Geralt; not to be close to him, but so he could better look at Essi. The gods knew she was more pleasing to look at than Geralt.

Especially now that she leaned forward and brushed the strand of hair behind her ear, revealing both of her sky-blue eyes that Jaskier was so enamoured with.

“So, Geralt,” she began and tipped her head to the side, “we need you to be our unbiased judge. Which one of us it better?”

Geralt risked a glance at Jaskier out of the corner of his eye. His cheeks were tinged with pink and his tongue darted out to lick over his lips, undoubtedly nervous that Geralt would say something wrong.

Geralt’s jaw worked as he frantically searched for an answer that would help Jaskier with Essi, even though a small treacherous voice in the back of his mind told him that this was his chance to say something that would let him keep Jaskier.

But that would never happen. Either he would lose Jaskier to Essi or he would drive him away by keeping him from his happiness. Either way he would lose him. The only difference was whether Jaskier would remember him with affection or disdain.

His hand clenched around the bird he was still holding onto tightly, as if it would fly away if Geralt weakened his grip. As if it was the most important thing in the world to keep for as long as he was allowed to. A poor substitute for the real songbird that was slipping through his fingers at this very moment.

“I think…” he said slowly, doing his best and failing miserably to avoid Jaskier’s anxiously expectant gaze, “I think that I might be the least unbiased person in this room.”

Essi’s smile grew wider. “You really like Jaskier’s singing, don’t you?”

Yes.

But Geralt was afraid that if he said as much as that one simple word, he wouldn’t be able to keep its true meaning out of his voice.

He plastered a sarcastic smile on his face, hoping against hope that it would be enough to fool the two masters of acting. “Maybe I’ve just heard him often enough to find him boring by now.”

“Boring!” Jaskier gasped in outrage and swatted Geralt’s chest. “How dare you accuse me of such a horrible thing.”

Jaskier’s indignation was familiar. Soothing.

Geralt’s smile became more real. “I said ‘maybe’.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at him. “Nice try to save that. You still owe me a better apology.”

“Oh?” Geralt leaned closer to Jaskier. He pretended not to notice the way their shoulders brushed. “And what do you want me to do to make it up to you?”

“Oh, that’s easy, my friend. You already know what to do.” Jaskier lifted his chin, a triumphant smirk on his lips. It took all of Geralt’s strength not to let his eyes linger on his lips. “Give us an honest review. Three words or less.”

 Us.

There it was again. That reminder that this wasn’t a moment Jaskier and Geralt shared. It was one that Geralt intruded on.

He drew back again, putting enough distance between himself and Jaskier so that they wouldn’t be able to touch accidentally.

“You’re good together,” he said in a hollow voice. Geralt swallowed thickly and pushed himself off the table. After a painful moment of hesitation, he let go of the songbird and put it on the table between the two bards. “So I’ll better leave you to it.”

Jaskier’s hand shot out and grabbed Geralt by the hand. “What do you – Geralt, where are you going?” Inexplicably, dejection flashed over Jaskier’s face and the fingers of his free hand started fidgeting. “I thought we wanted to go stargazing later?”

Geralt’s stomach twisted painfully as he gave Jaskier a meaningful look. “I don’t think I’m the one who wants to look at the stars with you.”

It was a lie. But Geralt had been telling a lot of them lately, whether with his words or by pretending with his actions. It was for the better. Geralt might want to spend the night with Jaskier looking at the stars and watch in wonder how Jaskier’s face shone in the pale moonlight, but Jaskier would be better off doing it with Essi who might find a way to describe to him how breath-taking he looked with the moonlight illuminating him.

Maybe when Jaskier left him, he would remember Geralt as the one who had helped him get into romantic situations with Essi. It wouldn’t have been romantic with Geralt. Jaskier wouldn’t have been as happy with him.

And perhaps there was a little pettiness involved as well as Geralt pulled his hand out of Jaskier’s grip and made his way to their room with pointed casualness.

As long as Geralt occupied their shared room, Jaskier wouldn’t bring Essi there to spend the night. It was a small consolation to know that they would go somewhere else to do what Geralt didn’t even want to imagine, but it was a consolation nonetheless.

It didn’t help keeping the images of the two bards together out of his head. All he could think about was Jaskier holding Essi in a lover’s embrace in a different room or maybe even underneath the moon. He would kiss her and whisper in her ear how beautiful she was, how perfect. Maybe he would even repeat the words of his song to her, intimately like a promise. And she would be allowed to return those words to him. She would be allowed to run her fingers down his back and pull him ever closer.

All the while Geralt would be alone in this room that was too big for one person. He stared at the bed in disdain and let himself fall onto it. It was too big. Too cold. Too empty. He should have shared it with Jaskier. They should have traded jokes and whispered stories before falling asleep within reach of each other and maybe entangling their limps as they slept.

Perhaps, if Geralt was lucky, Jaskier wouldn’t stay the night with Essi. Maybe after they were done, he would come back here and Geralt would get to hold him again, despite him smelling of Essi and the joy Geralt couldn’t give him.

It was a stupid thought. Jaskier wouldn’t return. He would spend the night with his love and in the morning he would only come to Geralt to tell him that he would stay with Essi.

It had been a while since Jaskier had last sought out company for a night. Geralt had known, of course, that it had only been a matter of time until Jaskier fell into bed with someone again. The thought hadn’t bothered him. Too much. But now, with her, it was different. From the way Jaskier had sung about her, his beloved wasn’t someone he’d forget after a night. She was someone he wanted to be with for as long as he’d allow him to.

Despite himself, despite his aching heart, Geralt hoped that Essi would keep him forever. She would keep his heart safe and if there was one person Geralt trusted to keep Jaskier happy, it was this woman who had threatened a witcher should he harm Jaskier.

A long breath that was almost a groan left Geralt and got lost in the too quiet room. He had to squeeze his eyes shut as if that could stop the pictures of Jaskier and Essi intertwined from forming in his mind.

It felt like hours of restless tossing and turning until he finally sat up. As much as he had wanted to find refuge in this room, it now felt suffocating to him.

Surely by now Jaskier and Essi won’t be downstairs anymore. They must have either found a bed to fall into or gone to the beach to look at the stars, like Geralt had planned on doing with Jaskier.

But wherever they were, there was little to no chance that Geralt would come across them. There would be no harm in going to the stables to clear his head talking to Roach. Or in trying to get drunk instead and dulling his thoughts until none of the ache and the poisonous images of Jaskier looking lovingly at Essi were left.

He shouldn’t have hoped that it would be so easy. Too lost in his own glum thoughts, Geralt didn’t notice Jaskier’s familiar heartbeat in the tap room until it was already too late.

Geralt should leave. But his body wouldn’t obey him. He stood transfixed in the shadows at the edge of the room and stared at Jaskier and Essi who sat in an even more secluded corner than before. Jaskier leaned heavily against Essi who whispered soothing nothings into his ears and petted his hair comfortingly. Lovingly.

Geralt’s stomach churned at the sight.

He knew he shouldn’t listen in. He didn’t want to.

But the look on Jaskier’s face was so strange. Geralt would call it heartbroken if he hadn’t known any better. Maybe it was just a trick of the dim light, but Geralt could have sworn that his eyes were red-rimmed. There was no reason for Jaskier to look like that. Geralt had left him alone with his love, he had made sure they could have a romantic night together. He had done all that he could. Jaskier should be happy.

Evidently, he was not.

“Thank you for listening.” Geralt had to strain his ears to hear the words Jaskier muttered into Essi’s shoulder. His voice sounded tight and choked. “I really needed this. It feels good to finally tell someone.”

“Why not tell him?”

Geralt’s breath got stuck in his throat at Essi’s words. It was the same question prodding at his own mind. Why hadn’t Jaskier come to him to talk about what bothered him so much? Geralt knew he was horrible at giving advice, but surely Jaskier knew that he cared. Surely, he knew that he could trust Geralt.

Then again, could he really? After all, wasn’t Geralt eavesdropping on him at this very moment? Hadn’t he toyed with the thought of whisking Jaskier away from his beloved?

“You know I can’t. He’s…he wouldn’t want to hear something like that.”

Geralt’s chest tightened and he had to press himself against the wall to not do something stupid like cross the room and assure Jaskier that he would listen to him, that he always would be there for him when Jaskier needed him.

“I think he’d listen to you,” Essi said softly and brushed Jaskier’s hair out of his forehead. Gently she lifted his chin so that he would look up at her. “You said you were friends, didn’t you?”

“Yes. We are,” Jaskier’s voice broke off. Their faces were so close and Jaskier looked so desperate. “But, Essi, I’m in love.”

He sounded so broken, so hopeless.

Geralt didn’t want her to say it back. He didn’t think he could bear it if she did, if he had to watch Jaskier’s face light up at her confession and kiss her.

What Essi said instead was worse.

“You always are.”

Essi smiled and Geralt’s blood turned to ice. She wasn’t taking Jaskier seriously. Yes, Geralt too had been consoling himself with the knowledge that Jaskier’s loves were fleeting more often than not, but he wasn’t the one Jaskier was in love with. If he was, he would treasure every second he was granted being loved by Jaskier, however briefly. And Essi who had Jaskier’s love, who had his trust, who had said she’d fight the world to keep him from hurting… she was breaking his heart.

“Not like this.” Jaskier looked so lost. So small. And yet, despite Essi’s dismissal, a bittersweet smile danced across his lips. “It has never been this beautiful. It had never hurt like this. Gods, it hurts. I’ve been in love for years and sometimes I think it might be requited, but then…we could be watching the stars right now. And instead I am a mess sobbing at your shoulder.” His voice became quiet enough that even Geralt could barely hear his next words. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You’ll fall out of love again.” Words meant to soothe made Jaskier wince like they were cutting into him like a knife.

“I don’t want to.” With a jolt, Jaskier sat up straight and stared at her imploringly, begging her to understand. “This time it’s different. I want to stay and I want to love and I…I don’t want to ruin what we have. It’s too important to me.”

“You won’t ruin anything,” Essi cupped his face with her hands, stroking tenderly across his cheeks with her thumbs. “I promise you. You are one of the most amazing people I know. You are a wonderful bard and an even better friend. Anyone who wouldn’t love you back would be a fool. You know how important you are to me. I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I promise.”

Jaskier was quiet for such a long time that Geralt began to wonder whether he would speak up again at all. A hint of hope flickered across Jaskier’s face and his voice wavered when he asked, “How could I not ruin it?”

“You could just say it.”

Jaskier let out a bitter laugh and a sour grimace twisted his lips. “What, just like that? I should just say I love you?” He shook his head and his smile became softer again. Geralt couldn’t see it from where he was, but he could have sworn that Jaskier’s eyes would be full of fondness as he looked at Essi now. “That’s not enough. That doesn’t even come close to what I feel. I want to say so much more. Words aren’t enough for this.”

Essi tilted her head to the side and one of her hands wandered back to Jaskier’s hair. “Why don’t you show it then?”

Geralt couldn’t do it. He couldn’t watch this anymore. He wouldn’t be able to bear watching Jaskier follow Essi’s advice. He couldn’t watch them kiss.

For once in his life, he wished that his heart was truly as hard as people said. Then at least it couldn’t shatter as it did now.

How foolish he had been to think that the ache in his chest would ever go away. Geralt doubted he would ever be rid of it. Perhaps it would be the only thing he would get to keep of Jaskier; a painful memory of what he had lost, of what had never been his to begin with.

Without another look at Jaskier, he pushed himself off the wall and fled.

---

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[nevertheless-moving]

This Crackship has Inspired Me

inspired by this by @maulusque which is the funniest star wars ship i’m somehow only learning about just now.

Palpatine listened with the same idle half attentiveness he always reserved for Skywalker’s ramblings about his wife, smiling and nodding genially at the appropriate intervals. At least his rants about blasted Kenobi or his monstrous little Padawan yielded tactical insights into the Jedi Order’s weaknesses. 

There was very little he could do with ‘shine of Senator Amidala’s hair’ or the ‘brilliance of his speeches.’ Of course, he always found something to use but there was an awful lot of nonsense to sift through.

“...I still can’t believe she married me. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more...” Skywalker trailed off.

“You deserve every happiness, my boy.” Palpatine said kindly.

Anakin looked down, a shadow falling over his face. He stared into his drink.

“What is it?” Sidious pried gently.

Skywalker hesitated. “Can I tell you something...and can you promise not to...think to badly of me for it?”

Palpatine leaned forward, disguising his keen interest behind a reassuring ‘genuine-warm-smile.’ “Of course, Anakin. I couldn’t lose my confidence in you anymore than you could lose yours in me.”

The anxious Knight took a fortifying sip of Soulean brandy before leaning forward and confessing in a low whisper, “I was happy of course during our wedding- but- more than that- I felt. Satisfied. Victorious. I mean.” Skywalker took another gulp. “Jedi aren’t supposed to get, you know, possessive of people. And slaves...its complicated.” 

“Whatever you say, I promise it will never leave this room.” Palpatine encouraged him with his best grandfatherly-tone.

“On Tatooine...” Skywalker’s voice was barely audible, and Palpatine had to restrain himself from shaking the words out of him. The boy typically preferred not to discuss his most easily manipulated vulnerability.

“In the slave quarters...the most valuable thing a person can own is themselves. And even if you can’t be free- you can choose to have a different master. It’s not- it’s not the most common form of s-secret marriage. Or even the most approved. It’s actually a little taboo.”

Skywalker hunched in on himself and Sidious kept his face gently neutral.

“But- I remember feeling so good when I won that podrace. I earned something important and it was me who did it. And this was better than that. Padme- she didn’t even love me that much at first - I think I was always going to let her have me, if she just asked. It was one of the first things I thought when she walked in- It was one of the first things I thought when anyone wealthy looking came in the shop, ‘what if they buy me?’ And she was so clean and beautiful and I thought that if it was her maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But somehow I won her and she chose to bind herself to me. So...we both kind-of have each other but-”

Skywalker dropped his head in his hands.

“It’s probably wrong- I know it’s wrong- but winning her? A smart, headstrong, gorgeous person who should by all rights want nothing to do with me- I don’t think I’ll ever match that sense of victory. Of power. No matter how many battles I win or enemies I destroy. And- that’s what I felt during my wedding.” 

Palpatine leaned back, impressed despite himself. He had always despaired over the boy’s seeming lack of desire for power for its own sake. But that was almost...poetic. He had never been much for ‘romance’ but he did very much enjoy when his enemies chose, under their own power, to play into his hands. Making that happen on such an intimate level... well he could almost see the appeal. 

Out-loud he said, “I think that feeling is perfectly natural, my boy. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Really?” Anakin said, pathetically hopefully.

How to phrase this...

“I myself enjoy a sense of, well, power, over others. From time to time. Of course, I know its not the same, but when I manage to pass a tricky piece of legislation the feeling of winning over another often personally overshadows my anticipation of the joy my work will bring. It’s perfectly normal and harmless. It’s not as though that feeling of victory over another diminishes the good my actions do. And you and the Senator are so very good together. Don’t let shame yourself for a...harmless bit of perceived darkness.”

He clasped Anakin on the shoulder and the idiot beamed back at him adoringly. 

Long after the evening ended and his future Apprentice departed, Darth Sidious sat in his office musing.

A simple probing into an exploitable flaw had revealed a dimension of power Palpatine had, shockingly, never considered. Sex was enjoyable, but ultimately not a priority. And rape was one of the less creative forms of torture. But love- tricking someone into falling in love- earning someone’s absolute devotion- there was a certain appeal. 

Obviously he had sycophants by the score, but Skywalker had incredibly said it himself: ‘a smart, headstrong, gorgeous person who should hate him.’ Now that would be a triumph. And Senator Amidala even knew about her husband’s less traditionally tasteful sides! Anakin really had pulled off a bizarre coop, hadn’t he? His pretty face probably helped give the whole process a boost, but Sheev had a rather impressive amount of personal wealth in need of a new mechanism for display that should serve the same function. He decided to keep the matter under consideration.

A week later, during a briefing with Commander Fox- who he would decommission for the sheer number of senatorial secrets he possessed were he not proving so uniquely invaluable at suppressing food shortage riots- the idea reemerged.

It would tie up a number of loose ends if those secrets were wholly under my control- and there would be a delicious irony in having one of my most elegantly designed weapons choose to serve me so completely before the choice was taken away...

Palpatine was nothing if not patient, and decided to bide his time, carefully observing before committing any real energy or resources.

Another week after that, the Commander came in for another meeting, absolutely professional but clearly projecting the wincing sensation of a hangover as well as...nerves? The over-promoted clone was usually freakishly adept at maintaining natural mental shielding, but apparently the over-indulgence had weakened him. 

Throughout the briefing the nerves gradually hardened into determination before his typical mental walls came up to block any other easily-gleaned insights. Palpatine was intrigued.

After the conclusion of their scheduled business, Fox cleared his throat. “That’s a very...flattering robe you’re wearing.”

Palpatine raised a brow. The commander usually didn’t try flattery on him, not because it never worked, but simply because he seemed to find it beneath his skills.

“That’s very kind of you to say, Commander.”

“I can be very...kind. When the mood strikes me. And red is a very...striking color on you.” Palpatine blinked rapidly, genuinely shocked for the first time in quite a while. That was absolutely a suggestive tone of voice. Could his mere idle thoughts somehow have already manifested themselves?

“Oh?” Palpatine responded calmly. “I can’t say I knew that, Commander.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, sir.” He drew out the last syllable in a... new way. Typically when the Guard Leader said ‘sir’ it was either sarcastic, neutral, or inexplicably pronounced like a slur. This time he seemed to caress the word in a manner that wouldn’t be out of place in a bedroom.

Before Palpatine could think of how he wanted to reply, the clone bowed lowly and marched towards the door. At the exit he paused and pulled off his helmet.

Free of the vocalizer, his voice was much smoother, “And please, when we’re alone...feel free to call me Fox. Sir.”

“Thank you, Fox. Safe travels,” Palpatine called weakly as the figure slipped away.

Palpatine leaned back, grinning wickedly. Well. This was an interesting development.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Absence of Words (Sawdust of Words 12)

At very long last, we have a new "Sawdust of Words" story!

Absence of Words, 13.5k, rated G.

London Sunday after the Apocalypse

They've survived an attempted Armageddon and near-executions, confessed their feelings, and now Aziraphale and Crowley are ready to spend the rest of eternity together.

But thousands of years of abuse are not so easily shrugged off. If this is going to work, if they're going to last longer than a few hours, Aziraphale and Crowley will need to learn to communicate.

It may be their greatest challenge yet. -- This fic takes place immediately after the "love confession" story "Finding the Words," and is my first real exploration in the series of what 6000 years of abuse and unhealthy communication becomes when you're abruptly free of your abusers AND starting a new relationship on the same day. Spoilers: it goes badly.

(However, I assure you all - it does have a happy ending and they will get better in the future!)

I shared the first scenes a few days ago, so the excerpt below is from slightly later, 1.3k of Aziraphale settling his emotions upon returning to the shop after the extreme thrill of walking hand-in-hand with Crowley for almost an hour. Hope you enjoy!

(CW for references to Heaven's emotional abuse/manipulation/gaslighting, and particularly to the fact that Aziraphale is still thinking in the ways they conditioned him to)

--

Aziraphale pushed the door of his shop closed and breathed a sigh of relief. Home again. His own space, where everything always made a little more sense, felt a little more secure.

Despite the fire, everything was exactly as it should be. Every book, every figurine, every speck of dust perfectly in its place. Even the rug he’d moved aside to contact Heaven lay flat in the center of the floor where it belonged, as if the entire horrid day hadn’t happened.

He paused for a moment, fingers resting on a stack of books, and took another deep breath. He didn’t feel quite settled yet; a cup of tea would really help, though he wasn’t sure if he had the time to make one properly.

Fortunately, as an angel, he had other options.

His favorite tea mug already sat on the desk by his favorite chair. Perfect. A quick miracle filled it with warm black tea, a blend of leaves with a hint of roast chestnut, something a little sweeter but more subtle than sugar, and a few buds of chamomile and safflower petals to help him relax. Then he settled into the chair and took a slow drink, letting the flavors linger on his tongue.

Yes, precisely what he needed. A moment of calm amidst the whirlwind, something Crowley would certainly understand once he’d had a chance to explain properly. Five minutes and he’d be ready for whatever excitement the world threw at him, or that he threw himself into, as that seemed to be something he did now.

He wiggled his shoulders, burrowing more comfortably into his pillows, pleased at his own boldness, wondering what he should try next. He’d played football once, years ago, perhaps they could find some energetic youths and play a match. Or he could learn a musical instrument, spend a day as one of those street-corner musicians. Not that he’d ever really wantedto, but he could if he liked, and the possibility was thrilling.

Or he could do something really audacious, like run his fingers through Crowley’s hair. That possibility made a great deal of heat rise to his face as he eyed the sofa where the demon liked to sprawl.

As he did, Aziraphale noticed a few things out of place. Nothing major. The blanket, usually draped across the sofa, lay neatly folded over the arm. The odds and ends across his desk had been properly stacked. The nearest bookshelf had been re-organized so that the books ran from the smallest on the left to the largest on the right. Even this mug, he realized, hadn’t been used for at least two days and should be sitting spotless in its cupboard.

Several possible explanations came to mind, particularly that in recreating the destroyed shop Adam had put a few items in the wrong spots. But he knew Crowley had spent hours waiting here this morning. Perhaps he’d done a little tidying, then sat and made himself a cup of tea.

That brought another fascinating blend of emotions. A little alarming, to be drinking from the same cup. Not proper at all, in today’s society, though it would have been more acceptable in the past. But in modern society, there was something intimate about it. And he found he didn’t mind that at all.

Not intimate, Aziraphale thought, eyes drifting across the shelf again. Domestic. Now there was an interesting idea. Crowley making himself at home in the shop. Making himself a snack, lounging about and being rude to customers, doing his little cleaning routine when he felt nervous, helping himself to a glass of wine in the evening or padding around in bare feet after waking up in the morning…

Instinctively, Aziraphale clamped down on the whole line of thought, burying it, glancing about to see if someone had somehow noticed.

But…there was no one to notice anything. No one to worry about. Not now, not ever again.

I’m…free.

He set down the mug and pressed his hands together. He’d never really considered himself trapped in the first place. Yes, he’d needed to be careful to avoid notice, judgement, but that was his own fault for not being the right sort of angel, for failing to measure up again and again.

And yet. There was no longer any reason to be careful.

No longer any reason to lie.

That was all Crowley had asked, wasn’t it? That Aziraphale stop lying?

Honesty. Now there was his most audacious idea yet.

“I…” He put his fingers to his lips, not quite sure he dared. But he could. He could. “I…love…”

His voice hitched over the word, his mind filling with caution, with warnings not to go too far.

“I lo-love…” Why was he shaking? He could hardly be reprimanded for it now. “I love…Crowley.”

The name seemed to hang in the air, echo off the walls. This was madness, of course, he had taken no precautions. He had every reason to think Gabriel might come back, for a check-up, for some final business, and Aziraphale would — would disappoint him, and that was worse than any punishment.

Only. Only that didn’t matter, did it? What was Gabriel’s disappointment, compared to a garden, a bright sky, and Crowley leaning down to brush his lips…

“I…I love Crowley!” It came out louder and more defiant than he intended, as warmth and excitement rushed through Aziraphale. “I love him! And he loves me!”

He gasped, just a little, to hear it out loud.

He loves me.

Sinking back into his seat again, Aziraphale rubbed his eyes. The mask of calm that had carried him through the Apocalypse fell away, and now he found himself quite close to actual tears.

He’d wondered for so many years. 78 years, 3 months and 14 days, to be precise. Did Crowley love him? Could Crowley love him? Did he feel even a fraction of that powerful force that Aziraphale often worried would destroy him, destroy them both?

It frightened him, sometimes, the love Aziraphale felt, warm and insistent, brash and bold, at times quite needy. Nothing like the pure love of Heaven, patient and kind, austere and a little distant. Not something to be freely given in exchange for a smile or a box of chocolates, but something to strive for, to inspire one towards improvement, towards one’s best self.

He’d tried, of course, oh how he’d tried. Every assignment, every duty, pouring every last bit of himself into whatever they asked of him with such good intentions, hoping for a sign, a bit of praise, a brush of that loving warmth. He always failed, of course, flawed and imperfect angel that he was.

He couldn’t resent Heaven for holding that love in reserve; that, too, was an expression of love, for how could one grow and develop if everything were simply handed to one?

But it had been lonely. So very lonely for so very long.

Not anymore.

Crowley loved him, right now, with all his faults and flaws. He couldn’t say it — such was the nature of the Fallen — but love wasn’t about words. He could feel it in Crowley’s touch, hear it in his tone of voice, taste it in his kiss. And that was enough.

He treasured it so, that love, that trust that Crowley had shared with so few. It was Aziraphale he found worthy, Aziraphalehe gave them to, and Aziraphale would do anything to show they hadn’t been misplaced.

My best friend, Crowley had said; what could be more precious than that? A greater honor than Aziraphale had ever expected.

He just wished he could hear the words in a different tone of voice, one not laced with all-consuming pain and loss. Wished he could think of them without remembering how he’d sat there stupidly, a corporationless angel floating in a void, unable to offer any reassurance or comfort, unable to even let Crowley see his face. Useless, as he’d always been.

That, at least, ended today. He loved Crowley, he was with Crowley. Nothing would ever come between them again.

He wiped his eyes one last time and went to find Crowley’s surprise. And perhaps some biscuits for the road, one never knew when one’s…companion (even that word made him blush) might get hungry.

Read the rest on AO3!

Or read the whole series here!

As always with Sawdust of Words - mind the tags and CWs.

[paradife-loft]

why the nie sect leaders’ inevitable death by qi deviation isn’t (just) about the sabers

(now at AO3!)

So, okay, this is a meta I’ve been working on/wanting to write/dropping hints to various people about now for quite a while! I think it’s significant thematically to some of the main questions MDZS/CQL asks, about cycles of justice and vengeance, the tension between personal agency and aspects of a situation outside one’s control, and good intentions often not being enough on their own, particularly to forestall problems resulting from imperfect or fatally flawed means to an end.

As a fantasy story, I think one of the strengths of MDZS/CQL is how it uses magic to reflect aspects of its thematic questions in certain cases as literal external forces, events that exist in a format outside just a character’s internal journey. The metaphors and proper social and personal orders these characters live by, have very real physical consequences in the world that result from the existence and manipulation of magical/spiritual energies.

And to my view, the part of this that I want to make the case for here, is how this relates to the Nie sect’s cultivation practises, and why I think the clan’s history of leaders succumbing to instability and qi deviation is a more complicated interplay of a few different factors, rather than just an externally-imposed illness whose source is purely their saber spirits.

* * *

Like, okay. The characters and narrative do, in fact, spend a lot of time discussing the Nie sect leaders’ early violent deaths in the context of their sabers’ spirits becoming angry and aggressive and affecting their mental and spiritual stability. So it makes sense to focus on those actual items as the essential reason behind why they qi deviate and end up dying the way they do. But there was something… logically unsatisfying to me about the idea that just the number of edges on your bladed weapon would make such a difference that sword spirits (also generally used for killing! because they’re also deadly weapons!) are apparently morally neutral but sabers, on the other hand, just Cannot Stop with the killing once they’ve gotten a taste of it.

But if you take an experimental step away from the idea that sabers must somehow be Inherently Different from swords in their response to violence - what possible explanations are left? Or, asked a different way - what makes the Nie sect’s ideological cultivation focus distinct from other sects’? The Lan focus on regulation and self-restraint as the path to goodness; the Jiang focus on self-knowledge and following what you know as right even against difficult odds; the Jin seem to emphasise value in beauty and unique rarity… and what the Nie seem to place the most value on, is dispensation of justice and abhorring evil, even to an extent that refuses attempts at compromise.

The only problem is, the justice that they (and plenty of others) seem to focus on most often, is justice for capital crimes - paying with a life for a life - and no matter how righteous and justified the motives, what this still ends up with is a spiritual path that spends a comparatively awful lot of time on seeking others’ deaths. And we see, throughout the story, more than one thematic hint that this is maybe not the best method for moving toward harmony or immortality.

Lan Qiren’s impromptu quiz of Wei Wuxian when the latter is fucking off in class. His example problem specifies the resentful spirit was an executioner in life (societally-sanctioned to kill others for heinous crimes), and Wei Wuxian notes that one who’s killed so many is a very likely sort to become a resentful corpse; meanwhile his many victims also remain tethered to cycles of vengeance and anger, able to be easily stirred up into a force of resentful energy that would target him if their corpses were disturbed.

The dialogue between Wei Wuxian and Fang Mengchen in the Burial Mounds after the attempted siege turns into the major sects being saved from a trap. It’s all very fine and good to hold a grudge, to see a lack of justice for a harm that can’t ever be undone or repaired when the one who caused it gets to be alive and well (or even not!), but as Wei Wuxian says - what are you going to do about it? It’s so easy for there to always be a wrong that needs righting (in a real or alleged guilty party’s blood). But will it get you anywhere? Can a person, can a society, mete out justice or vengeance once and have that wipe the slate clean, or will the wound reopen again and demand yet more suffering? Where does it end?

The discussion about the Nie’s ancestral saber halls with Huisang, where Wei Wuxian notes that the method of suppressing the saber spirits edges rather close to demonic cultivation. In literal terms, that question seems to be directed at the actual use of evil individuals’ transforming corpses to contain the sabers’ power. But I think the entire conversation, and Huisang’s need to swear them to secrecy and enlistment as backup if other clans find out and get angry, contains a certain amount of thematic subtext reflecting not just on the saber tomb itself, but the Nie clan’s cultivation as a whole. These are significant and revered family heirlooms, not easily or justly discarded, but maintaining them isn’t without cost, and the spiritual fallout rests on the edge of a knife, needing the perpetual presence of an evil to fight to remain in balance: the saber tomb is both the literal and metaphorical end result of the clan leaders’ cultivation path.

“But why,” you may ask, “if the principles underlying the Nie sect’s whole culture have an edge that’s sharper and more harmful to the user’s qi than other cultivation philosophies of the rest of the sword-using sects, do we only see “death by qi deviation” as an issue for the sect leaders, and not more widespread among a larger portion of the disciples?”

And that’s where the “(just)” part of the title of this post comes in, because that aspect is where the difference comes down to the sabers - or, specifically, the named sabers that have spirits of their own. The spiritual sabers aren’t bloodthirsty and excited to haunt and/or kill people right out of the gate, but rather, as Huisang explains, they become restless after spending their wielder’s lifetime destroying evil. A cultivator and their spiritual tools develop a relationship over time, as their cultivation is practised and refined - they bond, they recognise one another, and crucially, they seem to be able to share a kind of spiritual feedback loop, with the energies and intentions of one connecting to and ideally bolstering the strength of the other. The Nie clan in general seems marked by particularly strong relationships between individual cultivator and weapon, considering the sabers’ refusal to allow a clan leader’s descendants to inherent them, and both the circumstances of Mingjue’s father’s death and his own trauma reaction to that death.

So in this case, the illness and eventual qi deviations the Nie clan leaders suffer, the way the saber spirits come to weigh on their minds and emotions, make sense to me as a confluence of the particularly close bond and almost spiritual symbiosis between wielder and weapon, and the particular subject of emphasis that the clan leader lives by in how they train with and use that weapon. Focusing on justice as killing, as violent destruction of evil (the last resort one should aspire to after other solutions have failed, per Lan Qiren’s lesson), may not be the most spiritually healthy in any circumstance, but it’s only when you have half a lifetime’s worth of a mental feedback loop between you and this external, semi-sentient part of yourself that’s reinforcing the spiritual toll of that path, that you actually end up with a resulting qi deviation and death.

* * *

So, anyway, I do want to be clear having put forth this argument, that my point here is not to condemn the Nies, nor for that matter blame the sect leaders for their own deaths - that’s very much not in line with how the text itself displays flaws and virtues as two sides of the same coin (at times divided only by the context around them), and shows how destructive consequences can result from the best of intentions. For that matter, each major sect has unquestionably valuable basic principles at its heart, and just like microcosms of any culture, society, or group, displays instances of those principles being distorted, misaimed, or taken to extremes in ways that cause disharmony and pain to those in their path.

I think the way it plays out for the Nie clan just interests me in particular because of the way their uniqueness in cultivation method plays such known havoc with its members’ bodies and minds, and the way it straddles the divide between upright and demonic cultivation. MDZS asks, I think, more questions than it offers definitive answers to, and a significant one of those is, even if vengeance, even if death-as-justice is righteous, where do you balance all the harm done to others (up to and including) the justice-seeker in deciding whether to continue down that path of action?

And if it’s the Nie sect’s spiritual focus in combination with the spirits of their sabers that wear down a slow stream of damage to their qi, rather than simply the external threat of the sabers alone - that seems congruent, to me, with the suggestions offered elsewhere in the story.

[bltngames]

Review: Hotshot Racing

(For this review, Hotshot Racing was played on the Nintendo Switch and the Personal Computer)

If you were to ask me what the most important features of a racing game are, somewhere near the top of the list would be artificial intelligence. Racing games are one of those genres, like fighting games or shooters, where simulating how real human people play the game is vital to the experience. They are inherently multiplayer concepts, even if you’re playing by yourself.

Focus on multiplayer artificial intelligence has waned over the last 15 years. With the rise of the premium multiplayer subscription, it’s more important than ever before to drive players to play matches with flesh-and-blood human beings online. Thus, advancements in “bot” (simulated human player) development hasn’t just slowed down, but in some cases actively regressed. Epic Games, once home to some of the smartest, most robust first person shooter bots in Unreal Tournament, now features bots in their popular Fortnite Battle Royale that fumble around the map with low attention spans and aim like they're blindfolded.

Humans are hard to simulate. The basic functions of a player are easy to emulate -- navigation, aiming, and so on, but it’s the organic logic underneath that proves to be the primary challenge. Humans have lapses in judgement. Humans make mistakes. Mistakes compound on other mistakes. A person wins or loses a given game because of a constantly cascading sequence of decisions, all feeding in to and out of themselves. Whether they realize it or not, every individual person is their own infinite web of chaos. For a computer, which operates in a binary of either perfect success or total failure, no amount of processing power can make for an accurate duplication.

As such, artificial intelligence has to “cheat.” Flaws are introduced into the simulation in order to throw the player a bone. Intelligence almost doesn’t even enter the equation; instead, it’s more about developing a bot that the player simply believes is human, like some kind of a magic trick. It’s a tight balancing act -- if the bot is too good, it looks like an unfeeling terminator. On the opposite, well… compare my Fortnite example up above. There’s a sweet spot that must be hit: smart, but not too smart. Dumb, but not too dumb. It’s easier said than done.

Racing games are a special category here. On top of simulating a human, they must also simulate an automobile, with all of its physical interactions. Tire friction, suspension bounce, weight distribution, and horsepower efficiency just to start. I’d argue that this lends to a much greater tendency for natural mistakes to occur, as the two different simulations (vehicle and player) interact and bounce off of each other. This has led to racing games relying on a handicap known as “rubberbanding.” Essentially, if the player is doing a little too well, the game will start giving tiny advantages to the computer-controlled racer. A boost to top speed, a reduction in weight to improve handling, whatever it takes to ensure the player does not remain unchallenged for very long.

Which finally, at long last, brings us to Hotshot Racing. Developed by Lucky Mountain Games, with assistance by Sumo Digital, it attempts to capitalize on the growing faux-retro-3D trend. It promises visuals to remind you of Sega’s Virtua Racing or Namco’s Ridge Racer, but with decidedly modern vehicle physics and a bit more content than any of those old games could muster.

It honestly makes for a weird first impression. This is a retro-looking game that does not feel like any retro racing game I’ve ever played. Some would undoubtedly argue that’s for the better; like with most sports games, there’s this sense that more simulation is always better. Even modern “arcade” racers like Need for Speed or Wreckfest run pretty robust physics simulations under their hoods, even if they do not necessarily adhere to the rules of reality. But I’ve honestly never seen a problem with this -- I will readily go back to something like Daytona USA or even Stunt Race FX on the Super Nintendo, and never feel especially bothered by their primitive simulations. To me, racing is often more about the sense of speed, how well the controls respond, and the track design than any notion of feeling “realistic.”

That’s not to say it’s really a negative that cars in Hotshot Racing have some vague facsimile of modern weight and “realism” applied to their driving physics, I guess. It’s just something that takes a little bit of getting used to, because seeing these cars drift and sway like the racing games of today is a little anachronistic to the era being called back to. If you still burn a candle for the eventual release of the long-lost Kickstarter darling “90’s Arcade Racer,” know that this isn’t that game. I think it’s fair to say it’s trying to scratch a similar itch, but it’s doing so in a very different way.

One of the more important things Hotshot Racing brings to the table is a roster of personalities to race as and against. When you think of characters in a racing game, your mind probably more naturally gravitates towards something like Mario Kart or some other similarly kid-friendly cartoon racing franchise. For most "serious" racing games, your opponents are unknowable, faceless competitors, but Hotshot gives them voices and identities. Every character in the game has a garage of four cars unique to them, in addition to having their own story to tell. It’s nothing especially deep; most plot manifests in a single cutscene played at the end of a given grand prix, sort of like what you'd get for finishing arcade mode in a game like Street Fighter 2. It’s just a snippet, a taste of what motivated these people and what they’re going to do after winning, but it’s enough.

It goes back to what I said earlier, and how it’s important for the player to believe the artificial intelligence is more than just a computer. Making the racers into characters, with identifiable personalities, faces, and dialog goes a long way to fleshing things out and makes you connect with what’s going on just a little bit better. Or at least, that’s how things would work in theory.

The problem is… well, none of that matters. Put simply, the actual artificial intelligence you race against kind of sucks. In fact, it’s hard to even call them competitors, because your opponents seem to be running a different race where you straight up don’t exist. During any given event, your rival computer drivers seem to be totally blind to your presence, as they will spend the entire race trying to drive straight through you. I don’t know how else to explain it. This isn’t a simple case where the computer drivers are a little aggressive, because they usually aren’t racing to be destructive. They never seem to specifically go out of their way to attack, they just don’t seem to be able to see where you are, and make no effort to react to your presence. You happen to be in their way, so they plow through from behind, ram from the side, and generally just knock you around as if you were invisible.

A side effect to this is something I’ve started noticing in games that bear the Sumo Digital name: computer drivers can hit you way harder than you can hit them back. Whether rubbing against a rival car or engaging in a full-on collision, computer drivers always seem to be able to overpower player vehicles no matter what. In Hotshot Racing, I’ve encountered multiple scenarios where a computer driver shoves me around with little effort, but any attempts to return the favor and my car may as well be made out of styrofoam for how little impact there is. I know Sumo Digital only assisted Lucky Mountain Games on the back half of developing Hotshot Racing, but this has been a consistent element I’ve noticed in Sumo’s Sonic Racing games, too. The computer can be as aggressive (or as blind) as they want, but human players are never allowed to retaliate in a way that feels meaningful.

The worst, by far, is what I mentioned earlier: rubberbanding. “First place” in Hotshot Racing is an often endless war of attrition, where no matter how fast you drive, there are always cars nipping at your heels. Hotshot Racing has a boost system, wherein by drifting or drafting you charge up a segmented meter. Once a segment is full, you can burn it for a burst of speed. I’ve spent 2, 3, even 4 consecutive boosts in a row and the same three opponents were still right behind me, aiming to blindly smash my car out of the way. Hard, medium, or easy mode, it doesn’t matter. They are always there, just a few feet from your rear bumper, magically closing the distance to constantly steal your lead.

From a game design perspective, I understand why rubberbanding exists. It’s to keep the player feeling challenged and engaged. Spending too long in first place going unopposed can start to feel boring. Some game designers view that as a turn off. Races are meant to be battles. At the same time, being able to totally shut out my opponents and gain huge leads makes me feel good. Hotshot Racing robs you of that sense of total domination because of some artificial rule of competitiveness. It’s not that the computer-controlled racers are better than you; they don’t seem to race with any sort of great care or skill. Instead, they catch up and pass you strictly because the Hand of God bends the rules to accommodate them. That doesn’t feel very challenging and it certainly doesn’t feel fair.

That being said, the pseudo-realistic physics mentioned earlier do have their own downside: I found it a little too easy to lose control of my vehicle and spin out. If you brush against a wall wrong or get bumped by a rival during a drift, you often find yourself in a tailspin and unable to recover. Combined with the blind artificial intelligence and the rubberbanding, you have a recipe for getting frustrated. I want to feel confident in my losses, not because I couldn’t predict what Mr. Magoo was going to do next. To add insult to injury, the rubberbanding only gets more prominent as you move up in difficulty, so expect to get spun out more and more as you progress through the game.

There also isn’t a lot to do with your vehicles, either. For many, tuning is an important aspect of racing games, going all the way back to 1989’s “Super Off Road” in the arcades. No upgrade path is available for any of the vehicles in Hotshot Racing, with a basic unlock system geared towards limited cosmetic tweaks. There's tons of tracks to race on, and you constantly earn currency for winning races, but I never cared about spending any of it, because there wasn't much worth buying. Arguably the specific mid-90′s era that Hotshot Racing is aiming at wasn’t really heavy on upgrading or modifying around vehicle stats, but neither were they focused on visual customization either, so it does feel a little arbitrary what they chose to modernize about this experience and what is intended to be a retro tribute.

Beyond standard racing, Hotshot does offer a few alternative modes, but none of them are spotlight features. “Barrel Barrage” has you earning an explosive barrel to drop behind you at every checkpoint until the track becomes a minefield. “Drive or Explode” takes the concept of 1994’s “Speed” and straps a bomb to your car that will explode if you slow down for too long. Finally, “Cops & Robbers” is a confusing push-and-pull where you must steal money as a robber and alternatively wreck other racers as a police officer. Of the three modes, “Drive or Explode” is the clear winner, as it most easily fits into the standard three-lap structure the game centers around. “Barrel Barrage” is merely okay, and benefits more from an increased number of laps, as things slowly get more and more dangerous as you progress. These modes would also benefit if I didn’t get thrown back to the menu after every race; they really needed some kind of Grand-Prix-style playlist.

“Cops & Robbers” deserves its own entire paragraph for what a weird idea it is. It’s less about stealing and arresting and has more in common with the “zombie” modes seen in other games, where everyone gets converted to a specific team until there are no more players left. The idea is that you start with a pot of money that slowly depletes, and you have to race to the next checkpoint to cash out. The faster you get there and the higher amounts you cash out with, the more the cops specifically will target you. Once they wreck your car, you become one of the cops, and it’s your job to wreck the remaining robbers until they all become part of the cop team. Once all the robbers become cops, winners are tallied based on who stole the most money. On paper, this works, because it plays into the game’s slap-happy nature, but in practice I would find myself miles ahead of my fellow robbers and once I finally switched over to a cop, I had to slam on my brakes and wait for everyone else to catch up. By then, the computer-controlled cops had usually done most of my work for me and I lost for... being a better robber than a cop, somehow? It left a lot to be desired.

All of these modes can be played online, where presumably human players would make them more balanced and fun, but finding random pick-up games proved difficult in the time I spent with Hotshot Racing. Now, to be fair, I didn’t try especially hard -- racing games have always been a single player experience for me, as should be obvious by my spiel on artificial intelligence. But I did spend a couple nights trying to match into an online “Quick Race” on the Switch, where I universally came up empty handed. On the PC version of Hotshot Racing (which I received as part of a Humble Bundle), the application completely froze upon trying to start a “Quick Race” lobby, forcing me to ALT+F4 to close the game. For what it’s worth, the Switch version does also include a “local multiplayer” option for playing wirelessly with friends in the same room, and all versions support traditional split-screen.

Despite all of these shortcomings, I just can’t bring myself to hate Hotshot Racing, and it’s hard to pinpoint why. I’m definitely in love with this aesthetic -- the retro visuals, the upbeat music, the blue, blue skies (that I see), it all appeals to a certain part of my brain that likes razor-sharp, ultra-clean polygons. The introduction of named racers with backstories and character-specific “endings” is a really smart, fun idea. I just wish it was more fun to actually, like… run a race in this game. I understand the necessity behind concepts like rubberbanding, but it feels like the artificial intelligence cheats just a little too much, and as a player I don’t feel like I can do a lot to fight back. Running a good race isn’t always good enough.

Some games deliberately incite a feeling of disempowerment in their players, and that can be a totally valid design decision. But should that really be the goal of this kind of racing game? I guess I don’t have an answer for that, but I do know that I probably won’t be going back to Hotshot Racing very often.

[unnursvanablog]

Vincenzo / kdrama review

This is just my opinions on the kdrama Vincenzo. Thoughts below are pretty much spoiler free, but if there are spoilers, I will put up a spoiler warning first.

It is always fun when any form of media completely surprises you and sweeps you of your feet, and just exceeds all your expectations. With Vincenzo I was expecting something very melodramatic, boring and quite typical legal drama that I would stop watching for a few episodes because I was dying of boredom but what I got was the exact opposite of that. It was so off-kilter.

The drama actually sounds as crazy as it sounds on paper and yet I don't think the description does it justice. Usually, I do not like such makjang type dramas or over the top soap opera style shows, but here it is done with so much humor and skill so instead of getting on my nerves I got this weird mix of soap opera, thriller, and comedy and then a group of weird, flawed and morally gray characters. It is a weird mix, but it works surprisingly well together. There is a good balance between all these different factors, and it makes quite a cohesive story.

Despite all the laughs and the absurdity that the drama throws at us, it never seems as if it is mocking the story or this soap opera world that is had crafted around it. It's more playing with it and really take advantage of it. smart. Because it takes itself quite seriously with it tone, and yet it does not because it's main goal seems to be making the most entertaining story, and achieving that is not easy. It's shows a certain strength within the story and the vision the people behind it had. And that shines quite clearly within the story and makes Vincenzo quite stylish.

The story goes in circles a bit. Sometimes things just seem to happen just because the story needs them to happen just for it to move forward. Some things feel too convenient but the show seems to be very aware of it that you kinda don’t question it too much. It feels wonderfully self-aware of it's genre, which also helps you suspend your disbelief and keeps you thoroughly  entertained while even the most convenient plot points are happening. The story sort of manages to be logical within this small world it has created.

It plays with the soap opera formula and the clichés that comes with those stories and tales of the mafia, to take the story and comedy to another level, making things more exciting, crazier, without making fun of it. It has all done to entertain us or to provoke sort of reaction out of the audience.

But I think it is the characters that really make this show what it is. They are just so fun or interesting! Every single character, whether they are supporting characters or not, have their own quirks and darker sides, although to varying degrees. They are all quite ridiculous and complex in their own way.  

Our hero Vincenzo is more of an anti-hero and even the antagonist gets some nuances and quirks that even if you sort of hated them you also enjoyed watching them. I have personally not enjoyed a villain in a kdrama this much for quite some time. They brought so much tension, drama, and comedy into the show that I was almost more excited to see what they would do more than our protagonist.

The same goes with the supporting cast. I enjoyed every scene, every little side-plot that they had going on, which does not always happen. Sometimes they feel like fillers to extend the story for no good reason, but here the supporting characters get to control both the humor of the episodes but also the heart of the show. They all felt important, flawed, and interesting in their own way. They are not just comic-relief,

The romance in Vincenzo is slow and never takes over much of the story itself, although it is very often lingering in the background and the drama is always alluding to it. However, it is never the center of the drama. It is not the main story or focus, and I have to say for my part I am usually fonder of a slow-burning romance and that really worked well here with everything else going on. I love some good pining and longing because the character does not want to admit that they are in love or have not realized it. And there was more than enough of that in Vincenzo. Both are learning to trust others and become good people. Although no one is really a good person in this show.

Do I feel like the drama could gave allowed Chae Young to save herself a little more instead of always having Vincenzo come and save the day and the drama itself had a tendency to rely a little too much on the charm and the visuals of Song Joongki for my taste. It became a bit too repetitive after a while.

Vincenzo is a style of kdrama that I rarely see. And although it contains many basics of soap opera storytelling and other types of kdramas out there, I feel it does stand out because I have never quite seen this mixture before. No matter what the drama did it was always exciting to see what happened next and it always kept me surprised even though I thought the story went in some circles and brushed over certain things along the way. I never felt like they truly ran out of ideas to entertain me and entertain me it certainly did. It never really dealt all its cards.

Vincenzo is not flawless, but it is a hell of a good time. There is always this tension within it, you kept on wondering what would happen next, what these characters would do. You have no know what is going to happen. There is always a lot going on and so much high drama, such high stakes, yet still always so filled with humor. It was a real roller coaster ride from start to finish. 

Vincenzo grabbed me completely and did not want to let me go until the very end. I have not enjoyed a kdrama and the discussions that took place around this much it for some time now. And that is what I will take from it; it was just pure fun. It was pure entertainment for me.