#there's a whole other section to it too

[moonlightdoesgenshin]

"Come sit with me." It wasn't a question. Wanderer didn't ask for things. He simply demanded them.

Childe raised an eyebrow, but complied, following him to the edge of a cliff that towered over the rest of Sumeru and sitting on the edge of it.

"Well, the view's pretty," the harbinger commented, aloof. Wanderer scoffed.

"Of course it's pretty," he snapped, "It's why I come up here so often. When I need to think."

Childe shrugged, "As good a thinking place as any, I guess. Why'd you bring me here?"

This is where Wanderer paused. He thought for a second, looking over the view. Wondering if Nahida would be proud of satisfied with what he was doing.

"I... you said you remembered me," he muttered, much less bite to his voice than there had been before. Childe shrugged again.

"Thought I did. But, well, you made it very clear how stupid that was."

He had. And he regretted it, now. Oh how he regretted it.

"Do you know what Irminsul is?"

Both eyebrows raised, this time. So he did know. Good. That made things easier.

"I know the basics, y'know, giant tree underground, connected to leylines and all that. Not much else, though."

Damnit.

"Alongside the leylines and some other properties, Irminsul collects and stores memories and information." And now the really hard part, "When you erase something- say, a person, from Irminsul, that thing will completely disappear from everyone's memories. The thing itself won't disappear, but if it was alive, it won't even remember itself."

Wanderer waited for it to click in Childe's head. Apparently, he still wasn't the best in the intelligence department, and he just sat there looking confused.

He huffed, forcing away any emotion that wasn't the general annoyance he carried around like a shield.

"You don't remember me. Or- you shouldn't. I erased myself from Irminsul, months ago. I should've been completely erased from your mind." He took a deep breath, "But apparently, your skull is too thick for it to fully work. Or something. So you do. Or- you at least know that something is missing. Which shouldn't be possible."

They stared at each other for a couple minutes, the beautiful view in front of them going completely ignored. Wanderer had stopped breathing.

"Look," Childe said, voice tired and sad and so wrong for the person he was, "Thanks for trying to help, but that's a pretty far-fetched story, and I've been tricked one too many times to fall for it. Hope you find what you're looking for, though."

Wanderer inhaled sharply, the words feeling like a punch to the gut.

Childe got up, and he was walking, walking away, away from him, leaving him, like so many others had before, and he wished he could call it a betrayal but it was his fault in the first place, but please no I can't lose you too-

"Ajax, wait!" He was calling out the name before he even processed what he was saying, desperate and panicked and so alone- "Please, you said you wouldn't leave me."

And, by the grace of whatever good luck he had left, Ajax stopped in his tracks.

~~~~~~

Ajax. How did he know that name? Who told him that name? Why did the tone of his voice make Childe want to turn back and comfort the stranger?

A headache brewed, as it usually did when he questioned those little gaps in his memory, but this time it pounded harder, and harder, and harder- until he felt a pop! and a memory forced its way into his mind's eye.

They were fighting about Tartaglia's upcoming mission to Liyue. Scaramouche never liked the idea of him leaving Snezhnaya, and he was so sick of it.

"Her Majesty literally gave me the mission, I can't just refuse!" Tartaglia growled.

"You're the vanguard, it's best to have you here where you could protect us if things go wrong." The other harbinger snapped, refusing to look at him.

"Yeah, I'm the Vanguard, the last line of defense. Her Majesty would be able to call me back long before they'd actually need me!"

They had reached an impasse, and they both knew it. Tartaglia sighed.

"I can't just stay here forever, Scara. She needs me in Liyue to get the geo gnosis. I don't know what your obsession with me staying in Snezhnaya is about, but-"

"I just don't want to lose you too, okay?!" Scaramouche snapped, before freezing. He didn't cower, he never cowered, but he was still as a statue. All the fight that was left in Tartaglia died.

He approached Scaramouche slowly, making sure not to startle him. When he was close enough, he reached out to touch his face- stopping a couple inches away. When he was given the most minute of nods, he let his hand rest on his cheek.

The other hand came to rest on Scaramouche's back, pulling him close. He tilted the puppet's face up to meet his eyes.

He was terrified. Outwardly he looked annoyed, sure, but Tartaglia knew him well. Ajax knew him well.

He leaned down to press a soft, innocent kiss to the other's lips, knowing it was the exact opposite of what Scaramouche was used to.

"I'm not gonna leave you, Scara," he whispered, completely sincere, "The world would have to do a whole lot more than sending me to a different nation to make that happen."

Scaramouche relaxed, if only slightly. "Ajax..."

"Shhhh," his voice was slightly playful now, "This is my last week here, yeah? Forget about that for now. Let's make use of the time we have. C'mon, we're going to my room."

He moved his hand from his partner's face and grabbed one of his hands, pulling him slightly towards the door.

"Ajax, I'm really not-" Scaramouche started, but Ajax waved him off.

"You're calling me by my real name, I'm well aware you're not in the mood to do that. I'm bringing you to my room because I have the better bed, and you need some serious cuddling."

There were no further protests, and Ajax smiled to himself.

Back in the real world, Ajax was gathering his bearings. He could hear the stranger's- Scara's -heavy breathing in the background, and that's all it took to trigger him into action.

He turned around very quickly and almost ran back to the edge of the cliff, not even bothering to ask permission before he had- Wanderer? Is that what he called himself when they met? Fuck it, his partner's face in his hand, forcing them to lock eyes much like he did all those months ago.

His eyes were the same as they were on that day. Blown wide, panicked, terrified that this was the end. That he had finally gone too far.

"I'm never gonna leave you," he murmured, voice hard and resilient and loving, "Even if you erase yourself from the world, I'm never going to willingly leave you. You'll have to try harder than that, sweetheart."

There was silence for a few seconds, and then there were arms around his waist, and a face in his shoulder, and- was Scara crying?! He never cried!

"Fuck you," he muttered, and yep, his voice was wet, he really was crying, "Fuck you for making it impossible to get over you and fuck you for remembering enough to make me hope."

Ajax chuckled, wrapping his arms around the shorter, holding him close just like he always would.

"Well, I, for one, am very glad you didn't get over me, because otherwise I would've gone the rest of my life wondering what was missing."

"And fuck you for saying stupidly sappy things."

Ajax grinned, "You like them."

"Shut the fuck up."

[horsechestnut]

Anyway, if you're a fan of Bruce and Steph having a father/daughter relationship you should probably go read about Oliver and Mia.

[m1d-45]

will you promise that i'll see you again?

summary: your people refuse reason, and their damage refuses to heal. when it seems as if the whole world has left you, your dutiful knight still remains by your side.

word count: 2.3k

-> warnings: implied suicidal ideation (reader + unnamed side character), reader's previous deaths are mentioned in somewhat graphic detail

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @yuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

“you’re one of the only things keeping me going, you know.”

dainslef turned to you in surprise, the even neutrality to your tone a sharp contrast to the rapid pace of his heart. he wasn’t a fool, he knew that the hunt had to be taking a heavy toll on you, but this…

this was more than he expected.

he knew he was one of a pitiful few who saw through celestia’s false puppet, who knew you for you and not their mirage. he knew that the entire world was hellbent on erasing you from existence, that you’d been forced through your own death countless times as teyvat pulled you apart and pushed you back together far from the scene of your would-be murder. he saw the golden scars across your skin, the dried remains of blood lining the wounds you hadn’t been able to patch yet. he’d been the one to wash them away, not minding the refuse soaking into his gloves if it meant your hands could be clean.

he recognized the dull exhaustion in your eyes, the same as the ones he saw in the reflections of lakes. tired, worn, barely there, hanging on by one solitary string that was wound so tightly around a desperate hand.

you had always been his reason for continuing. when the traveller broke down and the ruler of the abyss hid from the sun, you were there. when the chasm’s mud clung to his boots and the memories in his head burned as nails forced between his eyes, you were there. his rosary was kept tight to his chest at all times, familiar prayers pulling him up in the morning and forcing him to sleep at night. he was alive for far, far too long, but you made it bearable. you were his duty, his promise.

he never once thought that he’d be yours. then again, he never thought that he’d have to defend you from the ones you once called friends. time never did pass how he expected it to.

“…leading light?”

you looked down, twirling blades of grass around your fingers. he had led you up to a mostly desolate area of sumeru, west of bayda harbor. it close enough to the sea, forest, and desert that you could reasonably make an escape through any of those routes if need be, while also providing a rather pleasant view. the sky was bleeding red and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, a remarkable sight that fell on blind eyes. there was no use trying to enjoy nature’s beauty when he still kept one hand on his sword and both ears pricked for the slightest sign of danger.

you shouldn’t have to worry about your safety. you shouldn’t have to prioritize based on how likely you are to get hurt, or how easily it would be to make an escape. you still flinched when the wind blew a little too quick, used to it heralding armored footsteps and battle cries. in another life, you were welcomed with open arms, able to enjoy yourself without constantly being on high alert. teyvat did what it could to adapt; the air was still, frozen in time, barely a bird chirping for miles. it was meant to be comforting, he thinks, but dead silence was more unnerving than any breeze.

“i mean it.” he could hear every shift in his cloak around your shoulders, the heavy fabric doing little to soothe your stress. it was yours more than it was his now, to the point he felt claustrophobic wearing it. how long had he been traveling with you? the days blurred.

“i don’t doubt you.” he never would. never could. he’s not sure, even if he somehow wanted to, that his body would allow him to treat your words as anything less than fact. “but i don’t understand what you mean.”

you were a god. the creator, the first, the one that shaped the sovereigns scales and laid the foundations of earth. you predated the archons, celestia, the very skies themselves…

and he, somehow, was a driving motivation for you?

his words must have been funny, a sharp laugh tumbling out of your mouth. it was bitter, humorless, and somewhat raspy. he made note to find some water for you later. “what else could i mean?” you turn to him, some of his confusion lost as your eyes found his. even this burnt out, deep bags set beneath them, you still managed to steal the very air in his lungs. “you’re the only reason i’m still here.”

he didn’t know what to say. what was there to be said, when you were you and he was him? when the world had abandoned you, it made sense you’d cling to what remained faithful. it was merely coincidence he happened to find you first, that’s all. coincidence that you trusted enough not to run from, coincidence that you allowed to care for your injuries. there was nothing to say, because you held nothing for him in particular, only leaning on him out of need. he had to believe that. what was he left with if that wasn’t true? an awkward truth hid beneath his well-known lies, too large for him to see the edges, let alone to contain.

“please… do not say such things again.” to ask of his god what he could not ask of himself was surely some form of heresy, as was willingly laying aside his guard when he was the only one who was tasked with protecting you. he pulled his attention from the tide below, from the rustling trees, holding faith that the world would not be needlessly cruel. he stepped forward, kneeling beside you. even up close, you still seemed painfully small. “it is your own resilience that has allowed you to persevere.”

it’s the earth that leads you from danger.

it’s the water that follows you wherever you go.

it’s the leylines that whisk you to safety.

it’s the wind that warns you of what’s to come.

it’s the you from the past that protects the you in the present.

it’s the you in the present that provides for the you in the future.

it’s you, from everywhere and everywhen, continuing to fight.

and yet you sigh. you look away, across the sea, tracing fontaines skyline. “it really isn’t. i was lucky to run into you when i did.”

you had just crossed the wall back into the forest, burning hot and shaking. he was the lucky one, in truth, to be able to pick your figure out from the sand below. perched on a high cliffside, even mitachurls were reduced to small brown flecks.

you had worn a cryo mage’s cloak, which was what initially drew his attention. abyss activity wasn’t uncommon in the area, but a cryo mage in the desert… that was cause for intrigue. he stepped forward and slid down the steep face in front of him, a slight puff of dust marking his landing in the desolate sand of old vanarana.

he didn’t know what to expect. you stumbled around the jagged remains of a tree, heading for the statue of the seven. he followed, only growing more confused. cryo and dendro did not react with each other, and there was no way to “slow” a statue. a scouting mission, maybe? but why a cryo mage, when pyro would have been far more advantageous in the case of an attack?

he leaned around the corner carefully, prepared for the sight of a staff or the chanting of abyssal magic filling the air. the entire world seemed to be holding its breath, frozen in place and waiting for some trigger to continue.

he saw none of that. you were collapsed at the foot of the statue, faint wheezing only making it to his ears by virtue of the standstill around him. you held no staff, commanded no magic, your chest barely moving with air.

he’d never seen a mage seek out the archons when dying. one hand squeezed the handle of his sword as he crept forward, ready to strike should the situation turn against him. the sand barely shifted beneath his feet, his own heart sounding too loud to his ears. you did not move, showing no signs that you had noticed his approach. he still didn’t trust it.

your cloak was tattered and torn, with thick gloves atypical of a mage. they reminded him more of hilichurl wraps, which was strange considering you wore no mask. your face was instead covered by what looked like eremite cloth, just as stained and dirtied as the rest of your clothes. what he could see looked almost human; in another life, he could believe you were a weary traveller, lost amidst the sand.

he was acting foolish. if the abyss had a human tool, he needed to figure out why. he reached down, undoing the sloppy knot of your veil and letting the brocade fall limply to the grass.

…grass. he blinked, eyes flickering between the ground and your face, not sure which was harder to believe. flowers had bloomed around you, protecting your body from the blazing sands, and he’d be a fool not to recognize the face plastered all over every bounty board.

he didn’t understand. if nothing else, he thought the archons would have enough respect for their creator to know when they were being lied to, yet before him was barely living proof of the inverse. sweat beaded along every inch of exposed skin, deep-set heat exhaustion burning you from the inside out. how could you be a threat? how could they be so blind?

he looked again, the shine of elemental sight straining his eyes, catching flickers of the dendro energy pouring from the statue. you were the only one the archons would feed. you were the only one to make the very earth break its own rules, allowing lotuses to bloom from barren soil. something painfully similar to rage threatened what remained of his rationality, and it took all he had to push it aside.

that didn’t matter. if he went off on some banal revenge quest, he’d be no better than them. your safety mattered more. he picked you up and set aside how calm his curse felt, beginning the trek back to his camp. behind him, the flowers already began to wither, losing their persistence without you to foster it.

perhaps that initial meeting was luck. but these was no luck involved in your trust in him. when you woke up and saw him at your side, you chose to trust him. you chose to believe that he was not like the others, that he would protect you, and he was forever grateful for that trust. nobody could fault you for being angry, for being spiteful about what you were put through and choosing to lash out. nobody would have the right to be upset if you chose to vent your wrath against those that had hurt you.

but you didn’t. you chose, again and again, to believe in the world. you chose to let them live their lives, even if it meant getting hurt again in the process. you chose a quiet life traveling with him over the comfortable life on your throne. to willingly choose to travel with a disgraced knight to spare your people guilt… he couldn’t decide if it was noble or reckless. either way, he was selfishly happy that he was the one to stay by your side.

“i won’t try to convince you. but, please.. do not give up on yourself so easily.” i know far too many who have died by the same hand. “the world and its opinion does not define you. only you get to decide where fate leads.”

you lean towards him, and he thinks you might have passed out- but no, your head lands on his shoulder with far too much precision. he stiffens, not used to existence without a constant pain beneath his skin. “how motivational. you tell all your soldiers that?”

his heart is beating too quickly, thoughts unusually hard to grasp. you’re the only one who could have this effect on him. he only wished it wasn’t now, when your belief in yourself was on the edge. “i mean it. none of this is your fault, and neither are celestial actions the people’s fault. i know that you are hurt, but i don’t want you to accept that main needlessly. you shouldn’t have to view your creation with such pain.” slowly, carefully, he raises the hand closer to you, doing his best not to disturb you as he settles it on your arm. he’s can only hope that the contact brings you as much comfort as it does him. “if nothing else, believe me. promise you’ll at least try.”

he doesn’t think you’ll agree. why would you make a promise to one who represents the heaven’s betrayal? why would you let him hold you close at all, when you can surely sense the bindings of those who tried to kill you wrapped tightly around his soul? he doesn’t know. all he can do is hope.

“…alright, dainslef. i promise.”

twilight has long since fallen, and yet he smiles for the first time in centuries.

[astranauticus]

stultifera navis rerun AKA thinking about Iberia hours again because a lot of the Iberians have such fascinating relationships with the concept of home but specifically Thorns and Lumen are eating at my brain. like where do you call home when the place that is your home Just Fucking Hates You? Elysium's rewinding breeze specifically makes a point to hammers home how differently Iberia treats its Liberi and its Aegir

(which is especially interesting since this comes right after a conversation where Purestream commented on how despite Leizi being a high ranking government official, there are still some experiences that are universal for all Yanese people - because the experience of what Iberia itself is like isnt universal for all Iberians)

But all that being said, Thorns also straight up states that Aegir is not his home, and yeah, how could it be? How could a place you've never been to, never truly known, ever be your home? How could it ever feel like a home?

so where do you go when the place that you are from hates your people and the place your people are from is completely unfamiliar and alien to you? Thorns' answer at the end of the conversation with Aya is: my home is where i chose it to be. my home is where there are people I care about and people who care about me

in the complete opposite direction, Lumen's oprec asks: why do you still stay in a place that wants you gone? because the people of Gran Faro like Jordi well enough but when push comes to shove, they will want the only Aegir in town gone

and yet, when Rald the messenger offers him a chance to leave Jordi turns him down and when he's forced to escape Gran Faro after the people there literally try to send him to his death (or worse) at the hands of the Inquisitors he keeps trying to go back because like everyone in stultifera navis, Jordi is clinging to his own dreams of a golden age

but the shape of that dream is unique to every character and for Jordi, his dreams are deeply, inseparably bound to the Eye of Iberia, the legacy his parents left behind

and it's this dream of becoming someone great, of bringing about that golden age that his parents devoted their lives to help create that ties Jordi to this nothing town because despite everything, despite the mistrust of the townsfolk and the hostility of the Inquisition and the danger from the ocean, he simply cannot leave it behind

(or, because i personally dislike the official translation,)

"I just see this place as my home"

so yeah. not sure what overall point i was trying to make here i'm just. deeply in love with these stories about chosing what is and isn't your home, of saying you will not call a place your home because it has given you no reason to or saying you consider a place your home even though it has given you every reason not to. deeply unwell about them <3

[mustardyellowsunshine]

In today's episode of Shut Up Robin, Nobody Cares:

I finished Maison Ikkoku back in February, and I had a lot of feelings about the series. (It's good, do yourself a favor and go read it if you haven't.) As I read through it, I couldn't shake the thought: this is the caliber of romantic development Rumiko Takahashi can bring to the table?? We could've had this kind of relationship development in InuYasha??? 😭😭

The other thought I couldn't shake: InuYasha fans who still question the sincerity and depth of InuYasha's feelings for Kagome might benefit from reading Maison Ikkoku all the way to the end. They should read the final chapters of Maison Ikkoku, think for awhile about the blatant parallel themes found in InuYasha, and then try reevaluating InuKag's dynamic.

Now, I should clarify: I think the InuYasha series already makes it abundantly self-evident that the Inu/Kag/Kik "triangle" (🙄) is a complex situation that puts InuYasha in an extremely difficult position. (Well, it puts all of them in a difficult position, but you get the idea.) You just have to read the series with your brain on to see that. To review: teenage boy is tricked and terrorized by a demonic murderer; that demon successfully murders the boy's ex while masquerading as him; later his ex is revived from the dead against her will, wanders the earth as a vengeful spirit for awhile (who wouldn't be pissed about being brought back into that bullshit?), and is actively stalked by the demon who already murdered her once; teenage boy is falling in love with someone else when this happens, but he still wants to save his ex from being re-victimized by the demon who already brutally murdered her once. Anyone who sees that situation and describes it with a straight face as "InuYasha needs to make up his mind already" is probably never going to reconsider their assessment of InuYasha's character. They've already formed an opinion in defiance of the evidence. That ship done sailed.

But for some folks, I think experiencing the way Maison Ikkoku explores the same relationship themes—and particularly how it resolves those themes in the final chapters—could help them re-evaluate the emotional nuances in InuKag's relationship, and maybe help to re-contextualize the Inu/Kag/Kik conflict.

The parallels between Godai/Kyoko and InuYasha/Kagome are pretty obvious—Rumiko Takahashi consistently revisits this relationship dynamic in her work (it's present in Mao to a lesser extent). But I think Maison Ikkoku more directly confronts the emotional complexity of that dynamic. You can feel the difference in how RT more directly explores the messiness, complications, and pain of a) grieving a former relationship even while falling in love with someone else, and b) loving someone who is still tangled up in grieving their past. The InuYasha series obviously deals with those themes too, but Maison Ikkoku brings more focus and resolution to its exploration.

This may be for two reasons: 1) Maison Ikkoku had an older audience, as it was published in a seinen magazine geared for adult men between 18 - 40 years old, and 2) the relationship tension between Godai/Kyoko pretty much constitutes the main story of Maison Ikkoku; in InuYasha, the plot (such as it is) revolves around a vengeance quest and the monster of the week, and the relationship tensions between InuKag are second to that. Maybe that's why RT was more willing to get into the weeds with Godai/Kyoko and to more directly resolve the tension.

InuYasha does have some standout chapters where it explicitly deals with the tension of InuKag's situation (e.g., chapter 78, chapter 124, chapter 176, chapter 286, chapter 458, etc.), but there's this distinct hesitance in the narrative to resolve that tension in a substantive way. That's one of my beefs with the InuYasha series: it gives us moments of standout, concrete relationship development which then doesn't impact the future narrative all that much. The same relationship conflicts play out over and over again, well past their narrative expiration dates. See: Miroku flirting with women right in front of Sango after they've acknowledged feelings for each other; also the entire Kaō arc, which just... I do not understand the narrative purpose of that arc when it just exacerbates tensions that already existed and resolves none of them. Anyway. I digress.

You could argue this hesitance to permanently resolve relationship conflict comes from the episodic nature of InuYasha's storytelling. There's some truth to that, but that's not a satisfying explanation for why the main couple's relational status quo remains inert for the latter half of the series. Maison Ikkoku also does this to an extent—the "will they, won't they?" tension is strung along for as long as possible—but in general Maison Ikkoku does a better job of allowing relationship development to actually affect the narrative. Moments of emotional revelation and growth do change the relational status quo between Godai and Kyoko. They don't stay in quite the same relationship limbo that InuYasha and Kagome get stuck in for the latter half of the series. (It probably also helps that Maison Ikkoku is significantly shorter than InuYasha.)

All that to say: I think Godai/Kyoko is actually a useful mirror for examining InuKag, because they share the same themes and relationship dynamics without sharing the same narrative failings.

Okay, so: big time major spoilers ahead for Maison Ikkoku. Stop here if you don't want to see the conclusion of that series.

I want to look at how Maison Ikkoku's conclusion simultaneously revisits and resolves the main conflict between Godai/Kyoko.

Ahhhhhh my feelings!!! Man I love this series.

Okay, let's review the major takeaways from this scene:

• Notice how the tension between Godai and Kyoko—Godai's struggle with insecurity and Kyoko's feelings for her deceased husband—mirrors the tension between InuKag. And notice that the reader is encouraged to sympathize with both Godai and Kyoko. Godai is not "at fault" for struggling with insecurity and feelings of jealousy. That's a natural human feeling to have, especially in a relationship that hasn't been anywhere near secure until very recently. And despite whatever jealousy or inadequacy he may be feeling, Godai tries to see things from Kyoko's perspective. Part of Godai's struggle—the heartache of it—is his understanding that Kyoko is also not at fault. It's not her fault that she married before she ever met Godai, it's not her fault her husband died, and it's not her fault that she's struggling with the grief of that tragedy. She's trying to reorient herself to her new life after loss; she's falling in love with Godai, but she's also scared of betraying her husband's memory. (Let's hold that mirror up to InuYasha now, shall we? SHALL WE?) Moving on from Soichiro emotionally represents to Kyoko a breach of duty to a loved one.

• To reiterate: neither Godai nor Kyoko are "at fault" in this situation. That's precisely why it's a tragedy. They both have to process painful, messy feelings; both their feelings are valid and understandable. (Hold that mirror up to InuKag, girl. HOLD IT UP.)

• Notice how Godai explicitly acknowledges that loving Kyoko means loving the Kyoko who once loved Soichiro. "On the day I met Kyoko, you were already within her. That's the Kyoko I fell in love with." It's impossible to divorce Kyoko from her feelings for her former husband: that part of her life significantly shaped her into who she is. And I just love that Godai is hashing out his feelings at Soichiro's grave: it shows a sort of respect for Soichiro's memory, but more importantly it also shows that Godai knows his negative feelings can't ultimately be "fixed" by Kyoko. If she could fix them, he'd be having this conversation with her. (And by this point in the series they have had this conversation.) But Godai knows he's the only one who can truly work through/resolve his insecurity—especially now, when Kyoko has already assured him that she loves him—and I love how the scene's setting subtly demonstrates that. Soichiro's ghost is haunting Godai's feelings, not Kyoko's, and Godai is trying to work through that with Soichiro himself. There's no love triangle to resolve here: what needs resolving is Godai's own feelings of inadequacy which no amount of assurance from Kyoko can ultimately "fix." This is his ghost to fight. (We get an echo of this kind of inner conflict in chapter 458 of InuYasha: Kagome directly wrestles with the "ghost" of Kikyo and struggles toward some resolution of her own insecurities.... Only for the Kaō arc to come along later and materially damage that resolution and character growth for no clear reason, BUT I DIGRESS.) And this scene shows that Godai wins that fight: he comes to understand that loving Kyoko has to include accepting her past. Kagome reaches a very similar understanding in chapters 175 and 176 of InuYasha.

• To reiterate: Maison Ikkoku's conclusion is not the resolution of a "love triangle." It's the resolution of a series-long conflict, which is completely different. In order for love triangles to work—to actually function as love triangles—two competing love interests have to be viable options. This is quite evidently not the case in Maison Ikkoku: Soichiro is dead at the start of the series. It's literally impossible for Kyoko to choose him in any meaningful way. RT blatantly acknowledges this early in the series when Kyoko's father-in-law tells her she has to live her life. I cannot stress enough how self-consciously the series is not about a love triangle between Godai/Kyoko/Soichiro. (Mitaka is another matter entirely, for a different post.) Rather, the series is about the damaging power of grief in our lives, the rocky and painfully non-linear journey to healing from that grief, and how messy, fraught, and ultimately profoundly beautiful it is to love another person for exactly who they are — past pain/trauma and all. (Please for the love of heaven hold that mirror up to InuKag.)

• No, you know what? I'm not leaving that at a parenthetical. I'm just gonna say it: exactly as Maison Ikkoku is not about a love triangle, InuYasha isn't either. For the same reasons as stated above, the Inu/Kag/Kik dynamic is not ultimately a love triangle because Kikyo is dead at the start of the series. And while her spirit is magically revived—in an altered/diminished form—she is still not truly alive. The story conspicuously communicates this: her body is literally created from decomposing bones and cannot sustain itself (she needs to consume souls—other deceased spirits—to remain animated), symbolically suggesting she is of the dead even as she walks among the living. This is a facsimile of life. RT is not subtle about this. Kikyo is a tragic and complex character whose arc can be interpreted in many ways, but I think it's fair to say that the series self-consciously represents her as a past which can't be recovered. The damage has been done. She is dead, time continues to move forward, and there's no reversing that. (That's, again, why it's a tragedy.) Even her resurrected body symbolically represents this reality via death imagery. Ergo, from the very start of the series—just as we see in Maison Ikkoku—Kikyo is not a truly viable option for InuYasha. He can't choose her in any meaningful way. To "choose" her would be to essentially choose death—abandonment of life—just as Kyoko choosing Soichiro would make her "a wife who hadn't died yet." Kikyo represents an irrecoverable past just as Soichiro does. And the main thematic trajectory of each series does not suggest that Kyoko/InuYasha should give up on life by choosing death — it suggests they should choose life. Godai and Kagome conspicuously represent life, the possibility of living into the future. (Kagome is literally from the future, that's how unsubtle RT is about this.)

(A quick aside while we're here: no, Kikyo's not being a viable option does nothing to diminish the sincerity of InuYasha's feelings for Kagome. Kagome is not a "second choice," for the love of God the series blatantly addresses that very thing many, many times—like it's right there y'all—and I have already written a long ass post about why Kagome's insecurity over InuYasha's feelings for her shouldn't be taken as gospel truth.)

So, rather than being an actual love triangle, I think the Inu/Kag/Kik dynamic is a complicated emotional landscape that explores the same themes Maison Ikkoku does: how grief and trauma affect our lives, how painful and messy it can be to heal from that grief, and that loving someone—choosing to take that mutual risk with them—means trusting that they mean it when they tell/show us they love us, and choosing to trust them more than our own insecurities.

It's just that Maison Ikkoku explores those themes a little better. 😅 Which is why I think it makes a good mirror for re-examining InuKag: all the same themes without all the narrative failings and missed opportunities. ✌🏼

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

The Sword of Kaigen

standalone fantasy set in a rural mountain village at the edge of an empire that still holds traditional values, with families of powerful water/ice magic warriors

follows a powerful young heir who begins to question his beliefs about the empire when a new boy comes to his village from the city

and his mother, a housewife who has tried to forget her youth as a warrior and vigilante in the city since she moved back home to a loveless marriage

when there’s a violent attack on their village that they’re unprepared for, everything changes, and she has to embrace her old skills to protect her family and people

[phoenixcatch7]

The thing I like about my writing is that I never write a story the same way twice. Everything I write demands a different flow.

For example, of the two stories I'm writing now, one wanted present tense (which I am, it turns out, terrible at) and lots of Internet slang/grammar, and the other one decided it had to be made of very short snippets, with one or two longer scenes forming naturally and lots of run on sentences. Both of them I originally tried in my 'more typical' style and both times it failed miserably to click until I scrapped it entirely and restarted.

Ironically enough, the present tense one I'd been intending to write in more episodic bursts, and the snippets one is the start of a long and twisting story delving into deeper themes than I ever have before. But that's the way they wanted to be written! It's more thinking on my behalf than I might have wanted (I am truly fighting my instinct for past tense), but in return I'm finding a rhythm and pattern that's working so well!

I guess the morale of the story is that if you've just started a story or art piece or whatever but it's just not working out, try approaching it from an unusual angle, something you haven't tried before. Something about it isn't clicking, so try a new method entirely!

But most importantly, have a folder somewhere you can move all the little bits and pieces you made but had to take out. It's old advice, but the problem is usually further back than you think. Doesn't mean you have to lose your progress.

[ravencromwell]

The poem evokes human greatness and human vulnerability. People are “godlike” in their courage and skill, but even the greatest mortals fall and clutch the dust between their bloody fingers. The beautiful word minunthadios , “short-lived,” is used of both Achilles and Hector, and applies to all of us. We die too soon, and there is no adequate recompense for the terrible, inevitable loss of life. Yet through poetry, the words, actions, and feelings of some long-ago brief lives may be remembered even three thousand years later.

--Emily Wilson's introduction to the Iliad

[tea-cat-arts]

I'm willing to at least hear out most of the "xyz plot point is heavily tied to abc cultural context" brands of posts but the "wwx isn't meant to be read as morally gray" and "the western fandom made up Sizhui being wangxian's son" brands of post make me feel like my cultural ignorance is being used to gaslight me

[ciderjacks]

argh. This comic writing is taking me way longer than usual. I keep editing things and it doesn’t feel right.

[danielnelsen]

update: peach is doing very well!! she's eating and sleeping normally (sleeping more than normal, really, but that's to be expected)!! after 3 days of not sleeping and a few changes in painkillers, she finally just napped for an hr then, after another day, slept through the whole night (and most of the next day). she's started following all her usual routines again and is very keen to eat! still on some painkillers, but they're not having any horrific side effects anymore

now that im not staying up to keep an eye on her all night (while also dealing with upgrading my computer and my phone and also my sister preparing to go overseas and the dogs barking and howling constantly due to all of the above), i finally got some decent sleep too and slept for about 14 hrs. so today ive got that weird shakiness that i get from sleeping too much, but hey it's better than the whole of the last week

[rolandkaros]

anyways. andy roddick everybody

Transcription:

[A: As you're saying the devil's in the details and homosexuality is illegal, but we have openly gay players. Uh...[Daria] Kasatkina, came out last year, now, if she goes there and play[s], are we just telling her to take a week off of her sexuality? I mean how do we even...how do we protect our own players who are, you know their—their life choices are viewed as criminal, when they enter this place? It's like, how do we protect those mechanisms, and, can whatever is said now be trusted when it's actually in practice?]

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[toxooz]

breaking out into hives gnawing at my enclosure bars i Need to work on my comic again to physically see what happens next

[sparring-spirals]

uhoh empire sib meta time.

Courtesy of that last rb by @iinfernal thinking very hard (very affectionately) about love in the form of, we are going to work to keep each other on track. Especially with Caleb and Beau. Because like. its not just about newfound acceptance, people who will give you the benefit of the doubt and help you improve, people who see your worst and love you anyway, people who will forgive you.

Like its about that! But its also about- i trust you to drag me back if i stray. i trust you to call me out, to push back. i am putting my back to you- you will protect it, and you will also pull me back if i wander.

The first big backstory reveal between Beau and Caleb was an exchange, not a kindness. it was, tell me why you are afraid of fire, and ill get you into the library. Caleb laid out some of the corners of his guilty conscience, to Nott, with all of her faith in him, (he is my boy), to Beau, with her skepticism and brusque curiosity, and it was not meant as a soft gesture. It was not a call for forgiveness, or absolution- it was an item for barter, a warning, an admission of guilt.

and Beau- still unsure, still rough around the edges and rude and defensive and angry, shell-shocked and out of her depth did not provide forgiveness, or kindness. She said something along the lines of- good god, you know thats fucked up, right? i didnt ask for this, what the fuck.

She said something like: you know what you need to do now, then, right? prevent this guy from hurting more people. This is what you've gotta do now, I think- this is what we'll do-

And Caleb gets into the library, and casts haste on Beau in a bar fight, and there is something to be said about love shaped like a willingness to disagree, to push back, to say things wrong but try to say it anyway.

Caleb, and Beau, arguing. Beau is suspicious and Caleb is ready to run, and "the problem with friends is you have to care about them". Running into old injuries and boundaries, working to learn them, to fight to communicate. Apologies that are awkward but sincere. Kindness that is misshappen but intentional.

Caleb and Beau, butting heads, poking fun, trusting the other person to be suspicious of them, when it really counts.

"Can we keep each other straight?"

Some fifty episodes apart: have faith in us, just a little bit? dont run.

follow your own advice. don't go.

Caleb, vision and hearing gone and flung out ahead, placing a hand on Beau's shoulder. Lead me well, lead me straight, bring me back if I stray. Caleb and Beau, going in circles about what to do as the world ends, ambition and magic and time and guilt, and entities at war. Worried about evil, about going wrong, needing the clear vision of someone who loves you and will not eternally forgive you.

"I'm worried I am exactly what he said I was."

"Not yet."

God just. Love as keeping each other on track. Beau and Caleb, as the only ones to get the eyes, afflicted by searching too hard for knowledge. what a horror, to have you and your tether tossed into an unknown spiral. what a comfort- if it was any of them, at least it was both. The Mighty Nein, making contingency plans, Yasha sticking close to caleb and cooing over his animal forms and ready, ready, for the worst. What a nightmare. Thank god. "Im glad it was us."

"You drove me insane."

"I hated you. You sucked."

What love. What immense care. Years on in, and it all still comes back to:

"You got my back?"

"What's the play, Beauregard?"

[sskk-manifesto]

:)