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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 10 months ago

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I DREAM, NOW, OF A NORMAL LIFE WITH YOU ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; suguru isn’t a lightweight. this is your first time actually seeing him drunk — though maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d be the sappy kind.

word count; 9.4k (..... i got carried away ok)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader (shoko calls u "girl" but in a "girl help" way not a gendered way), written w a no curses au in mind, sugu is a sappy emotional drunk i said what i said, sickening amounts of fluff, depictions of intoxication, reader is averse to alcohol, sugu wants to marry u so bad it makes him look silly, lots of emotions & lots of love <33

a/n; this fic has been ROTTING in my drafts for the longest time but its super precious to me and now i finally get to post it!! @softgirlgonehaywire & @hayakawalove ily ty for being interested in sappy!sugu this is a treat for u <33

the bar isn’t all that far off from your apartment.

it’s a short distance, really. walk straight ahead, until you reach the record store that suguru likes to frequent, and then take a right; a minute or two uphill, and then you’ll be able to see the blue of the sea. once you’re there, all that’s left is to look for mellow golden lighting and descend a set of stairs.

which is what you’re currently doing, popsicle in hand, loose clothes and comfortable shoes on as you wallow in the mellow summer evening. everything is blue — the dark shade of the sky, and your ice pop, pastel and sweet, tasting of pure youth. the hoodie you threw on is a rich cobalt, suguru’s in name but yours in spirit. he only wears it when you complain that it doesn’t smell like him anymore.

humming a jolly tune, you take a sharp turn, allowing the summer sensations to curl around your subconscious. blissed out and content.

you were so, so bored — stuck at home with no one to keep you company, no one to mumble snarky commentary about the show playing on tv, no one to run their fingers through your hair while your head rests in their lap. pure torture, really, being faced with the consequences of your own actions. after you stupidly told suguru you’d be okay on your own.

he even asked you twice, just to be sure, even told you that he’d prefer you to join him on his night out. and again, you declined; because it’s been so long since he had some time alone with shoko and satoru, and you were feeling a little tired anyways.

so he gave in. heading out, with a promise to bring back a tub of your favorite ice cream, leaving you with the apartment to yourself. did you come to regret your little white lie? maybe. possibly.

but everything worked out in the end.

a pleasant breeze caresses your skin, brushing against the apple of your cheek, and you watch as peach blossoms dance in a faraway park. cicadas cling to every tree in sight, buzzing a pleasant tune, mingling with the giddy giggles of high school students enjoying their summer vacation. it’s been raining for a couple of days; you can still smell it in the air, feel it in the low tinge of humidity clinging to your skin, still hear suguru’s insistence that you bring an umbrella with you to work — just in case.

but today, the skies were clear, and it’s late, not too humid but not too chilly. and the stars are out, glimmering in that fuzzy sea of mellow cerulean, leaking out like little marbles cast into space. falling down, down, down, close enough for you to see. from here, it looks as if they’re waving. you resist the urge to wave back.

peace. bliss. a nostalgia so vibrant you could drown in it, feel it lick at your ankles like soft sea foam.

eager to scratch a certain itch in your brain, attention span zipping from one street vendor to the pop music blasting from a couple streets away, you take your phone out from your pocket. absently scrolling through your messages, until you get to the ones shoko sent you just ten minutes ago. the ones that brought you out here, into a summer evening soon to slip into nightfall, ones that have you walking to the bar you chose not to join them at.

messages that still have you pushing back a bout of giggles, chewing lazily on your ramune ice pop with a giddy smile.

sho 🚬: come get ur man sho 🚬: he’s drunk. sho 🚬: like DRUNK drunk

you: …… um. you: what happened to hi? hello?? good evening???

sho 🚬: no time for that. look sho 🚬: [ image ] sho 🚬: he looks so goofy lol

unable to resist the temptation, you press the pad of your finger against the screen — opening the image attachment, just to drink in the sight once again. what you see is a certain man, slumped over in his seat, cheek smooshed against the wooden table in front of him. messy hair, no longer tied into a bun, cascading down his shoulders and back. from the little you can see of his face, his skin is flushed a light pink, and his eyes are closed, fingers still curled around an empty beer jug.

like a sleepy puppy.

a coo tiptoes on your tongue, but you bite down on your lip in an effort to stop it, just grinning at your screen with pure adoration in your lovesick eyes.

he’s drunk, alright. an unfamiliar sight, but not at all unwelcome. because he’s cute, terribly so, so cute that it hurts, even when he’s obviously wasted. it’s almost funny — you know their drinking habits. shoko holds her liquor so well that it’s a little horrifying, and satoru can get wasted if he has more than a sip of it. and suguru?

suguru never gets drunk. he barely even drinks. out of consideration for satoru, maybe, or you. probably both. that’s just how he is; you thought he hated fish for years, because he was always so eager to give you the best bites of the sushi rolls you ordered. turns out he was just indulging you.

so, to be frank — the idea of him suddenly being drunk is a little bit of a shocker. but it’s also kind of exciting, in a ridiculous way. new, fun, just what you need when you’re bored out of your mind.

(or maybe you’re just happy to have an excuse to go see him.)

you: NOOOO you: MY BABY 😭😭😭 you: what did u guys DO to him???

sho 🚬: satoru and him made a bet 😐 you know how they are sho 🚬: he drank like a divorced mother of four ive never seen something so beautiful

you: …. you: have i told you that you’re both terrible

sho 🚬: u love us <33 sho 🚬: anyway he’s been asking me where u are for the past ten minutes pls come i can’t stand him sho 🚬: he’s crying.

you: HUH???????? you: WHY????????????????

sho 🚬: dude i dont know sho 🚬: please come get him he’s being so sappy that satoru’s abt to throw up

you: ???? okok 😭 you: im omw ig??

sho 🚬: girl hurry he just told me he genuinely appreciates my presence in his life 😐

an exhale — laced with deep amusement — drops from your lips and spills into the summer air. it tastes like a memory from long ago.

slipping your phone back into your pocket, you raise your gaze, searching for a glimmer of goldish light. soaking up the scent of the ocean, sparkling on the border of your peripheral. salty and sweet.

no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is that certain someone, waiting for you to pick him up. your mind keeps drifting back to the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his hair falls over his face when he leans down, the sound he makes when he stretches in the morning.

you want to see him. badly. you want him near, want to feel the familiar warmth of his presence, want to see him smile and laugh and sigh and raise his eyebrow at your antics.

so there isn’t any time to waste. you’re walking towards that familiar set of stairs before you know it, shoes hitting the asphalt with a mantra of satisfying thuds.

and when you step in through the opened door, you’re immediately engulfed by a sense of overflowing comfort. mellow, warm lights, the soft buzzing of static from an old radio, low citypop beats trailing through the air. the bartender by the counter gives you a curt nod in greeting, before motioning towards a certain table. it’s over in the corner, covered in beer jugs and fancy glasses, with three beauties seated around it.

satoru notices you first.

a bright grin finds its way onto his face, and he waves you over giddily, happily. barely contained excitement in the motion. shoko’s gaze follows his, flitting over to meet yours — and you think she mouths an oh, thank god, before taking another sip from her glass. she brings a hand up in greeting when you come closer, and you can’t see her smile, but there’s a crinkle to her eyes; a warmth in them that you’d never miss.

”hey, guys.”

”yo!” satoru chirps, beaming in a way that’s so distinctly him it makes you soften. he looks so comfortable in his seat, with a cocktail you know is non-alcoholic and probably too sweet for anyone but him to stomach. giggling to himself, leaning over to poke suguru’s cheek, with a teasing declaration of your chaperone is here!

and there he is.

the man you came here for, still slumped over in his seat, unresponsive. not for long. as the lilt of your voice reaches his ears, his eyes flutter open, in a bout of recognition — even in the drunken state he’s in. an immediate sensation of familiarity creeps into his veins, rousing him from his cozy, half-asleep stupor.

he doesn’t even grumble over the way satoru keeps poking at his cheek, interest and attention focused solely on a certain someone. you, your presence.

and when your eyes meet his, he lights up.

it’s precious, you think, how his eyes widen, blooming with genuine affection, so endearing you could kiss him right then and there. his face is flushed, and his hair is tousled, and the warm lighting of the bar paints him in a golden hue. so perfect for him, your star in the sky.

a smile spreads across his lips, big and happy and warm, and you can’t help but mirror it.

(gosh, he’s cute.)

with a dizzy kind of eagerness, suguru sits up, palms flush against the table to support his weight. he stumbles out of his seat, paying no heed to satoru’s amused huff of careful! or the rattling of fragile glass.

it only takes a few uncoordinated steps for him to reach you, where you haphazardly lean against the wall, watching him amusedly. that delighted smile never leaves his lips, as his arms go to curl around your waist, big and heavy, his jaw finding its rightful place on the curve of your shoulder.

”baby,” he drawls, fond and affectionate. breathing you in. ”sweetheart. my angel.”

a flustered puff of laughter slips from your lips, stumbling a little under his weight. his voice is syrupy sweet, overflowing with love and adoration, soft in a way that has your knees buckling. a little raspy. murmured right into your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

he’s too sweet for you to handle, really, even sweeter than satoru’s overpriced cocktail. and he smells the same as always; a blend between coffee grounds, cigarette smoke and rain, one that never fails to soothe you. even when it’s tangled up with a vague but vivid stench of alcohol, courtesy of the drinking he’s been doing until now.

you crinkle your nose, but don’t let go of him, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head. words buzzing with warmth. ”hey, sugu.”

suguru only squeezes you tighter, content to have you in his arms. finally, his world makes sense again. all he can do is bask in your voice, warmth, scent — he’s just so enamored by it all. almost in a trance, heartstrings dancing along to the beat of your presence, your very existence, that appears to him as something almost angelic. soft and familiar, something that feels right at home when it’s tucked into his embrace. where he can keep it safe.

”missed you…” he murmurs, sleepy, smearing an open mouthed kiss against the crook of your neck. ”i love you s’much…”

a chuckle. ”i love you too,” you echo, running a steady hand over his back. your voice is laced with something teasing, but awfully fond. ”you really are drunk, aren’t you?”

”mm…” he only hums, cheek pressed flush against your soft skin. ”’m sorry…” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. he sounds a little guilty, and it makes you want to coo. pull his cheek a little.

instead, you laugh. amusement vowen into the bubbly noise. ”it’s fine, sugu. c’mon — let’s go home, alright?”

at that, satoru visibly reacts, placing his glass on the table with a soft clink before getting up to stretch. he grabs suguru’s discarded jacket, letting it hang off his arm as he walks over to the two of you.

”i’ll help you carry him,” he smiles, always so dependable. so ready to be of service. maybe a little too eager to carry suguru around like a sack of potatoes.

a smile blooms on your face, and satoru gives you a playful wink. shoko just leans back in her seat, stretching idly. it feels like home with them there.

”i’ll stay here,” she hums, a faint grin tugging at her lips. ”he’s your problem now.”

”got it.” you meet her lidded eyes, sharing an amused look as satoru tries to coax suguru away from you, pulling at his cheek while he whines and clings to the fabric of your clothing.

finally, he relents, and you look back at the table with a grin. ”see you later, sho’.”

a smile is the only response you get, but it’s enough. it’s her, the same as always, still sipping from a glass of expensive whiskey and raising her hand in a silent see you. relaxed and cool, and so very lovely.

with one arm over satoru’s shoulder and the other clinging to your hoodie, suguru stirs.

”shoko…” he groans, craning his head to look back at her, even as satoru makes a move to leave. ”don’t drink too much. and watch out for strangers…”

he trails off, blinking drowsily, a protective tone to his voice. worried. awfully like him. neither you nor satoru can resist the chuckle you indulge in, but shoko just rolls her hazel eyes.

”i don’t need to hear that from you,” she scoffs, tinged with amusement and what you’re almost certain is embarrassment. there’s a fondness to her snark, one you’d never miss.

(shoko will always be shoko. you know that she appreciates suguru’s concern, even if she doesn’t want to show it.)

”alright, c’mon,” satoru quips, slapping suguru’s back with a grin. ”there, there, big guy. let’s get you home, hm?”

just as you suspected, he doesn’t let you help, doing all the heavy lifting on his own. not breaking a single sweat, flaunting his strength as he hoists suguru up the steps — while you do nothing but follow, a light jacket hanging off your arm.

cold midnight air embraces you, slathering your cheeks with the essence of summer as your shoes meet the asphalt. satoru smiles, a low exhale escaping him, dusting off his hands. ”there we go.”

suguru stumbles towards you, no longer caged in, slumping against your shoulder with a satisfied sigh. blinking slowly, as you link arms, his muddled senses adjusting to the outside world. a pleasantly blue sky, a sun long set, and a string of lamp posts to light up the street ahead of you. artificial fireflies, watching over the town you love so dearly.

you part your lips, and a soft exhale slips out, dripping with fondness. ”thanks, satoru,” you smile, meeting his gaze.

”don’t mention it,” he waves you off, but you know he appreciates it; always eager to be praised. ”can you bring him back by yourself?”

”yeah, we’ll be fine. it’s close, anyway. don’t worry.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, and his cobalt gaze drifts upwards, to bask in the starry sky. a moment passes, and then he’s looking back at you and suguru; a soft and earnest smile playing at his lips. so sincere you want to reach out, cup his cheek, make sure he knows how loved he is.

”i’ll go back to shoko, then,” he chirps. bubbly and graceful, giddy and playful. always so lovely. ”gotta make sure she stays out of trouble.”

a chuckle. you mirror his smile. ”of course.”

and with that, your precious best friend makes a move to return to the bar, taking a decisive step away from you. before he can get too far, though, a certain hand reaches out to hold onto his sleeve — keeping him still.

satoru turns around. blinking once, then twice, in confusion; faced with none other than suguru, still slumped against you. a little out of it, sleepy and disoriented, yawning quietly, but his eyes are as clear as ever. caring and sentimental.

his gaze cuts to the bone of things. it’s something you’ve grown used to.

”thanks, satoru,” he murmurs, letting go of said man’s shirt. the words that spill from his lips are straightforward, a little tactless, but overflowing with earnest appreciation. ”you’re my best friend.”

a moment passes. the stars burn in silence.

satoru blinks.

then he sighs, with what you know is nothing more than feigned annoyance. masking his embarrassment, the same way shoko did, the same way suguru always does. your repressed, beloved little losers.

”yeah, yeah. i got it,” he pats suguru’s shoulder, once, twice. not looking at him. ”you’re such a sap, you know that? geez.”

a grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief blooming in your eyes. ”not gonna call him your best friend back?” you tease, a soft tilt of your head.

satoru gives you a glare, playful, one you can’t physically see from behind his shades but still somehow sense. ”don’t add fuel to the fire,” he grins, with a halfhearted flick to your forehead.

before you can bicker further, suguru yawns, loudly, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you. you share an amused look with satoru, until he shakes his head fondly.

”take care of him, alright?”

”i will. you guys have fun!”

and at last, satoru turns on his heel, coupled with a smile and a lazy wave. but suguru calls out to him once more, unwilling to part ways without saying his piece. so sentimental, so loving it comes to him like breathing.

”bye-bye, satoru,” he slurs, voice loud enough for the entire street to hear, tired and honest. raising his arm in a lazy wave. ”i love you!”

”go home already!” satoru shouts, descending down the steps with a flush to his cheeks that you’ll tease him for later. his soft laughter is carried away by the breeze, sweet and saccharine.

(satoru will always be satoru. you know that he loves suguru back, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud.)

with a faint chuckle, melting into the summer air, you tug on suguru’s arm. ”alright,” you chirp, looking up at him. ”let’s go!”

he seems a little more awake now, at least, trying to match your steps. meanwhile, you do what you can to support his weight; he’s stumbling a bit, but you don’t mind. if anything, his weight is a comfort, your arms linked together like a lucky charm. a safe harbour.

suguru is acting kind of like a big puppy, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. a little meek, clinging to you, trailing after you pliantly. he’s a little dizzy, still, and he needs you to get back home in one piece. it makes you puff out your chest, stand up straighter. makes you feel protective of your 6’2 boyfriend, all toned muscle and broad shoulders, the personification of scary dog privilege. but he needs you right now.

a soft bout of laughter spills into the air, as you try to ignore his heavy stare. it’s impossible, though — so you turn your gaze to meet his own, and he practically glows under the sound of your giggles, that cheeky smile you’re wearing. ”you okay, suguru?”

his eyes soften. silently, he runs a thumb over the knots of your knuckle, smoothing down your skin, thick fingers intertwined with yours.

he looks deep into your eyes, and a soft hum of affirmation buzzes in his throat.

”i’m just so happy,” he grins, with a sincerity that has your heart doing flips inside your ribcage. it flutters, flutters, flutters, in the wake of his unbridled joy. it buzzes like it wants to break out.

suguru has this dreamy look on his face, one you can do nothing but admire, painted over with fluorescent moonlight and pure summer bliss. one that reminds you a little of high school rooftops, midnight road trips, what it means to be in love.

you nudge him, softly, with the arm that’s tangled up in his own. tilting your head, teasing words on the tip of your tongue. ”you know, i never took you for a sappy drunk.”

suguru's only response is a cute little mmrn, steps heavy as he leans on you for support. trying his best to carry himself, not wanting to inconvenience you, but it’s just a little tough. especially when he feels this soft, this grateful — this blessed.

a giddy, dreamy smile tugs at his lips. his amber gaze travels up, towards the little pale dots of star clusters all across the night sky, gleaming like milk poured over rich coffee. then he exhales; a soft, blissful little sound. ”i’m so lucky.”

a moment passes, silently. in the distance, cicadas buzz. with a patient smile, you admire him, the reflection of starlight in his eyes. suguru has this forlorn look, etched into his expression, like he’s seeing something that isn’t quite there.

”i have satoru and shoko…” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue, as if he can’t quite believe them himself. that’s how lucky he feels, sometimes.

a nod. ”they love you a bunch, you know?”

(they do. they’re both horrible at saying it out loud, but you know they do. you know that they love suguru, just as much as he loves them, even if none of them are good at putting it into words. perhaps they don’t really even need to, in the first place.)

suguru mirrors the soft nod of your head, bangs falling over his eyes as he does. ”and i love them, too.” his smile grows. ”they’re my best friends.”

absently, you reach a hand out, brushing away the strands of hair obscuring his vision. and suguru stirs, his gaze shifting until it falls on you. like a moth to a flame. there’s something indescribable in his eyes, soft and heavy and tender and true.

”— and i have you.”

a stutter of your heartbeat, a jolt throughout your chest. his stare almost burns, but you can’t avert your gaze — suguru looks positively lovesick. admiring you with a dreamy gaze, as if he can’t believe you’re real.

he reaches a hand out; cradling your face with one big palm, the rough pads of his fingers smoothing down your skin so very gently. smearing his fondness from your jaw to your cheekbone, so loving your breath hitches in the back of your throat.

a soft, content sigh spills into the air, like a prayer that doesn’t need any words. his smile is serene.

”my angel.”

as the words fall, that peaceful smile of his changes shape, shifting into a big, giddy grin. it lights up his whole face. a chuckle leaves his lips, content and delighted. ”i’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

and for a moment, you fear that your heart will stop beating entirely. frozen, listening to the lullaby of your heartbeat resounding in your ears.

suguru has always been frighteningly good at flustering you — but isn’t this a little unfair? you clear your throat, hoping to regain some composure. it’s tough, though. your words could never measure up to his, could never flow as freely, but they’re honest. wholly and thoroughly. and maybe that’s enough.

”we’re the luckiest in the world, too, then,” you echo, smiling, words barely above a whisper. willing yourself to meet his gaze. ”since we have you.”

suguru looks into your eyes. there’s starlight inside them, he thinks, shining brightly, gleaming in the dark. with the hazy filter of intoxication clouding his mind, it’s all he can think. you’re his northern star, his lighthouse. his one and only saving grace.

(you’re so, so pretty.)

a pause. after a silent moment, spent etching your features into his retinas, suguru tilts his head. his expression is unreadable.

— he boops your nose.

you blink. once, twice, caught entirely off guard; and suguru giggles. soft, giddy little breaths falling from his lips like marbles, strewn over the sand of a warm beach. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, and his smile is sweet, meeting your surprised gaze with a honeyed coo. ”you’re so cute, baby.”

silence. you look up at him.

then you sigh, exasperated, more flustered than you’d like to admit. god. okay, he’s really out of it. for some reason, you still thought you could get a good one-liner in, but of course he had to ruin that by being a little tease.

you grab onto his bicep. gaze fixed straight ahead, giving it a tug. your steps are more decisive now, and suguru follows you happily. ”alright, alright. c’mon,” you beckon, slightly gruff. ”we’re almost there.”

when you finally reach the familiar front door of your apartment, you exhale a deep sigh, laced with pure relief. limbs tired from dragging suguru up the stairs, mind muddled and sleepy and senses practically engulfed by a man still clinging to you like his life depends on it.

after fumbling with your keys and hearing the click of the lock, you take a victorious step over the threshold, and a familiar scent greets you. soothing, comforting, a blend between fresh laundry and leftover curry and blooming hydrangeas. filling your senses with a fervent kind of bliss. of course, suguru’s does the same; intimately intertwined with the scent of home. that everlasting, never-changing blend.

with him clinging to you like this, it’s almost suffocating — but you truly don’t mind. suguru’s warm, and sweet, and being close to him like this makes you feel at peace. his hands rest on your hips, his jaw on your shoulder, and he adamantly refuses to let go of you for even a second. it’d be annoying if he wasn’t so cute, if he wasn’t suguru geto, if you weren’t so horrendously weak for him.

what you don’t know is that suguru has an agenda. one that isn’t just i want to hug the love of my life, although partially that as well. suguru has a plan, one he’s been absentmindedly dreaming of for the past five minutes; he’s a man on a mission.

but he’s patient. always has been, always for you. so he waits, and waits, for you to hang his jacket up, for you to kick your shoes off your feet. and when you’re finally, finally finished, suguru leans in to kiss you.

— you block his mouth with the palm of your hand.

a moment passes. silent, almost tense. in his stupor, suguru’s mind can’t quite seem to comprehend the situation before him; he doesn’t understand why he isn’t pressing a kiss to your lips, right now, why he’s kissing the skin of your palm. he doesn’t understand why you look so troubled, a faint guilt simmering in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand.

all he can do is blink, dumbly, surprised. a question written on his features clear as day.

”well, it’s just…” you sputter, sheepishly. avoiding his gaze, a little guilty. ”you know. since you’ve been drinking, and all…”

and it hurts, you think. it hurts a lot more than it should. it hurts to reject him, hurts to see the way he deflates at your clarification. like a big kicked puppy. like you just threatened to throw him out into the street.

suguru removes your hand, gently, holding it in his own as he speaks. those amber eyes are downcast, and a soft pout rests on his lips. the sight alone feels like a dagger to your chest.

”but…” he frowns, voice awfully meek. he looks so sad. ”i wanna kiss you…”

a soft sigh leaves your lips, before you can think to hold it in. oh, he’s being so unfair. guilt clings to your mind, an itch you yearn to scratch, and all you want is to kiss his pout away. but you really, really don’t want to kiss his alcohol-soaked lips.

so you settle for the second best option.

”’m sorry, sugu,” you coo, reaching a hand out to cradle his cheek. he leans into your touch, still pouting, and you tug a little at his bottom lip. wasting no time in closing the narrow distance between you.

the kisses you press against his skin are soft. peppering kisses all across his face; ghosting your lips along his jaw, trailing towards his cheekbones, and settling on his forehead. tiny little pecks, wherever you can reach. your voice is soft, muffled into his skin between butterfly kisses. ”tomorrow, okay?”

and suguru seems to brighten up a little, melting under the contact, exhaling in pure bliss. he fervently returns the treatment, planting open mouthed kisses all over your face, respecting your wishes and avoiding your lips. they’re a little sloppy, but you don’t mind.

it does make you a little flustered, though. with his palms cradling your face, engulfing you, there’s nothing you can do except drown in his affection, the love he showers you with. it tickles — and suguru’s smile only grows, at the sound of your soft giggles. his cheeks are starting to hurt.

the state he’s in is just a little bit hazy. despite his initial dejection, he no longer minds that he can’t feel your lips against his, disappointment warded off by your smile and laughter alone. he thinks you’re so, so cute, and all he wants is to kiss you forever.

but you have other plans.

and before you know it, you’re both curled up in bed, limbs all tangled up beneath the blankets, bodies pressed together as suguru cages you in. he squeezes you tightly, hugging you close, practically melting into you. usually, it’d be so easy to fall asleep like this. with suguru cradling you, covering your body with his own, warm and safe. he’s like a furnace.

but right now, it’s a little tough. you’re kept awake by open mouthed, ticklish kisses pressed against your skin, supplied by the love of your life. it’s sweet, but he’s being far too distracting — as soon as your consciousness begins to fade into the fuzzy realm of sleep, he leaves a sloppy kiss against your collarbone, and you’re jolted awake once more.

”suguuu,” you whine, dragging his name out with childish inclination. ”we need to sleep…”

”sorry,” he only murmurs, muffled into your skin. he doesn’t stop, though, planting a wet smooch on your cheek, and then another. you squirm a little in his hold, and he emits a shaky breath. ”jus’ love you so much…”

suguru knows that he needs to stop. he knows that both of you need to sleep, that you need to rest up. that he needs to recover from the intoxicated state he’s fully aware that he’s in — but he just can’t seem to follow through with it. every cell in his body burns with a certain desire, a need to shower you in love, and it’s unendurable. with every kiss, every giggle he manages to pull from your lips, suguru’s heart fills up just a little more.

your presence surrounds him, like a weighted blanket, and he clings to it with a desperation he never knew before you.

in the midst of his feverish consciousness, you’re all his muddled mind can think about. the way you fit together with him like a puzzle piece, like he was formed in the shape of someone meant to hold you. like you were formed in the shape of his embrace. with you pressed up against him, limbs tangled with his, everything feels so right.

but it’s so overwhelming.

you’re so, so close, so close he’s practically engulfed by your scent, your touch, everything that makes his heart burn with devotion. it’s beating so viscerally in his ribcage, stirring the protective instinct inside him; he just wants you to stay close, by his side, wants to keep you safe and happy. wants to make you feel loved.

suguru’s heart feels wet and raw and bare, fully exposed for you to see. beating just for you.

with the alcohol inside his veins, and the nostalgia of the summer evening on his mind, everything weighs on him just a little too heavily. everything feels just a little too much. every sensation, every emotion, every sappy thought. all of it together is almost too much for him to handle.

all he can think of is you. how lucky he is, to have met you, to have gotten to know you. how much you’ve changed him, changed him for the better, how much of him is directly tied to your existence.

suguru never truly appreciated his name until you came into his life. it was always no more than a simple fact, a gift from his parents that he hadn’t asked for. something natural, that he didn’t question, didn’t think about.

but you say his name with such warmth.

he wants to hear you say it, over and over again, forever. suguru — in that sweet, lovely voice of yours. better yet, just sugu, a cutesy, silly nickname he could never bring himself to actually hate. he just wants to hear you call out to him, with that warmth of yours, the one that never fails to soothe him. no matter how tired he is, how stressed. how much everything else weighs down on him.

at the end of the day, he’s simply your sugu. and that’s all he ever really wants to be.

with a hazy filter clouding his senses, coaxing him into closing his eyes, suguru should give in. he should fall asleep, let you fall asleep. but he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about it; he just loves you so wholly. who you are, what you do. as an equal, an individual, a little galaxy tucked into a body made of flesh and blood. no matter what you’re doing, no matter where you are.

and right now, you’re here, with him. curled up in bed, in your shared apartment, inhaling the same air, exhaling at the same time. by his side, when you could be anywhere else in the world.

his heart is yours. that’s all suguru can bring himself to think, the only coherent thought he can cling to and echo in his head. his heart is yours. forever and ever.

he makes no attempt to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes, even as he feels them cling to his lashes, even as his breathing clogs up in the back of his throat. they’re proof of his devotion, his carefully nurtured love. growing over the years, into something almost sacred, a kind of faith. something so fervent he wouldn’t dare deny himself of feeling it.

he can’t hold in a faint sniffle, either, just barely audible. one that breaks your heart in two. it aches, aches, aches. suguru is gazing at you with glassy eyes, a sight you aren’t used to seeing — but he also looks so genuinely glad. his tears aren’t ones of sadness. you know, because you know him.

”aw, honey…” you coo, the pads of your fingers reaching out to cradle his cheek. despite your efforts, your voice wavers when you speak, little more than a whisper. ”don’t cry... you’ll make me cry, too.”

suguru places his larger palm over yours, choking on another sniffle. the sight renders you completely helpless — you want so desperately to stop his tears from falling, but a part of you is too touched to speak. too mesmerized by how beautiful he is, translucent tears illuminated by softly flickering moonrays, lashes glimmering like shooting stars.

all you can do is smooth a thumb right under his eye, wiping away a stray tear with enough tenderness to stitch his heart back together. suguru emits a shaky breath.

”’m sorry,” he sniffles, closing his eyes. nuzzling into the crook of your neck. ”i’m just so happy… love you so much… you mean so, so much to me, i…”

an exhale, a little breathless, tears soaking through the material of the shirt you’re wearing. his shirt. that realization makes him cry even more, a shuddering breath that shatters like glass when it drops from his tongue.

and then, in a voice so quiet you barely hear it, a soft whisper worth a million words:

”i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

and it hurts. your heart aches so sincerely, thorns curling around your ribcage, because suguru is crying, and he’s telling you all this. with such an honest intonation that you don’t dare doubt him, even for a second. heavy thumps of blood rush through your veins; he’s still clinging to you, sniffling into your neck, and you’re so in love with him that you almost can’t comprehend it.

all you can do is press a kiss to his shoulder, chaste and tender, and hug him just a little tighter. echoing his words, in earnest, desperately trying to keep your voice from breaking apart. ”i love you, too. more than anything.” a sigh, full of wonder. little butterfly kisses scattered across the expanse of his neck. ”you mean the world to me. honestly.”

with a smile against his skin, you hope so tenderly that the soft kisses will comfort him, will stop the tears from falling.

”my sweet boy,” you murmur, lovingly, because he is. the sweetest boy you’ll ever know. suguru shudders when you press your lips against his jaw. ”i’m so, so lucky.”

with the combined efforts of your kisses, the alcohol slumbering inside his veins, and the tears running down his cheeks, suguru begins to feel awfully tired. sinking into sleep’s embrace, like a sailor lost at sea. comforted by the glimmer of a lighthouse, just out of reach.

everything feels right. he’s safe, and happy, and in love. so hopelessly, blissfully in love.

the exhaustion creeps up on him, tidal waves embracing a shore, beckoning him into closing his weary eyes. a yawn leaves his lips, and he shifts a little in your hold. you’re smoothing down the back of his head, almost protectively, and sleep is only a flicker away for the both of you. with the last of his strength, suguru snuggles just a little further into you, nose pressed up against your neck, close enough that he feels the flutter of your heartbeat.

”wanna be with you forever,” he murmurs, sleepily, stifling another bout of yawns. his smile is sweet and dreamy. ”gonna marry you one day…”

a moment passes.

for a second, you think your heart does actually cease beating entirely.

swallowing a gulp, you allow yourself the luxury of an inhale — and fresh air fills your lungs. grounding. all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart, heavy thumps reverberating in your ears. warmth flows through your entire body.

marry.

the word is spoken so casually, so sincerely, as if he’s said it countless times before. as if he’s repeated it, over and over again in his mind, just to get used to the idea. as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. marriage. something so foreign, so scary, enough to send shivers down every narrow of your skeleton. such a large step to take.

(but suguru says it with such tenderness.)

”… okay,” you whisper, at last. breathless. ”i’ll be waiting, then.”

there’s nothing else to say. you don’t know if suguru is even conscious enough to hear you, let alone understand the full weight of your words, of his own words. but you don’t mind.

a soft smile lingers on your lips, as you stroke his hair, mind hazy and limbs heavy. nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head, full of affection. dripping from your hands down to the column on his throat, through his windpipe, down to his heart.

”goodnight, sugu.” you press a kiss to his messy hair, tender and chaste. ”i love you.”

an incoherent mutter leaves his lips, in response, one you can’t quite make out — but you don’t need to. because you already know what it means, in the same way you know that the sky is blue.

(an echo buried deep within his subconscious, voiced without effort, as easy as breathing.

i love you, too.)

the sizzling of a pan and the whirring of a coffee machine form a beautiful morning symphony, bouncing off the walls of your kitchen. to your ears, and your still sleepy brain, it’s a soothing sound — coaxing soft little melodic hums from the depths of your throat.

with such a tantalizing aroma in the air, a blend between espresso and pancake batter, you can’t help but buzz with a mellow, groggy kind of joy.

honestly, you're beginning to understand suguru’s fondness for the morning hours. waking up to his soft snores and content expression was more than enough to give you the energy you needed to get out of bed; all sleepy and relaxed and pretty, with hazy morning sunrays kissing up his bare skin, caressing his messy bedhead.

a rare sight, awfully precious. a part of you wanted to stay in bed and admire him all morning, but the thought of taking care of him coaxed you into leaving. it’s the least you could do, really — after seeing him so sincere, so open and vulnerable.

hopefully, his headache won’t be too brutal when he wakes up. you left some hangover pills on the nightstand, courtesy of shoko’s advice: just get him ibuprofen and coffee. works like a charm. are you a little worried about her nonchalance? maybe. but you trust her judgement. they’re a handful, but you love them — even when they’re drunk or hungover.

which is why you’re standing in the kitchen, engulfed by the morning sunlight, in front of a sizzling pan. trying your very best not to burn the pancakes you’re making, patiently waiting for the coffee to be done.

in your blissful stupor, caught up with thoughts of suguru and breakfast and forevers, you don’t notice another presence coming up behind you.

two arms wrap around your waist, and a jaw attaches itself to the curve of your shoulder. you startle, a little, jolting at the contact — but then you recognize that telltale scent, the familiar weight of his arms, and immediately melt into the embrace.

suguru breathes out a raspy chuckle, amused at your surprise.

a sigh slips from your lips, content. ”good morning,” you hum, placing the palm of your hand on his forearm. suguru shifts a little, getting more comfortable as he leans against you. tenderly, not too much weight. he’s delicate like that.

”g’morning,” he rasps, leftover sleep clinging to the syllables. the usual smoothness of his voice is coupled with a deep, rough kind of tilt, one that always accompanies it in the morning. your heartbeat picks up, silently.

suguru smiles. dreamy, giddy, because you just looked so pretty, in the morning light, hair still a tad messy. humming happily, swaying slightly side to side. so irresistible. he’s beginning to understand why you love sleeping in so much; getting to wrap his arms around you like this, instead of the other way around, doesn’t feel bad at all.

he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping it’ll convey his gratitude. there are holes in his memory, last night no more than a blurry sequence of still images, but some bits and pieces remain intact. he remembers getting drunk in a way he hasn’t since he made that bet with satoru back in high school — and he remembers that you were there to take care of him.

a smile tugs at his lips. a little giddy, butterflies erupting in his chest. he’s so damn lucky.

”thanks for taking care of me yesterday, sweetheart.”

a hum. you smile, sheepishly, patting his arm. ”don’t need to thank me for that. how do you feel?”

suguru smiles. you feel it, against your skin, a chaste kiss on your neck. ”better.”

the low purring of the coffee machine has stopped, but the sizzling of the pan remains. from beyond the opened windows, you can hear the chirping of cicadas, melodic and serene. singing a summery tune. both of you soak in the preciousness of the moment, the fragile silence, before suguru breaks it.

”everything from last night is kinda fuzzy,” he admits, clearing his throat. just a tad sheepish. you simply hum, a low noise of acknowledgement, and he continues. ”i don’t really remember anything… ’m sorry, baby. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

your lips curl up into a tiny smile. such a sweetheart — always worrying about you. always so caring and attentive. eager to reassure him, you smooth over the skin of his arm with your thumb. ”not at all.”

then you’re taking a couple steps back, moving from the stove, and suguru follows. you turn yourself around to meet his gaze, his arms still attached to your waist, a comforting weight.

a grin blooms on your lips, a little teasing, and a flicker of mischief shines in your eyes. ”you were cute, you know.”

suguru blinks, before emitting a low chuckle. a raspy little thing. ”was i?” he drawls, as you brush his bangs away from his face.

”mhm,” you chirp, eyes crinkled as they meet his own. you just can’t help but want to tease him, a little bit. just a smidge. ”kept going on and on about how much you love us.”

hands moving to cup his face, you squeeze his cheeks softly. and suguru lets you, too tired to resist, only giving you a lazy raise of his brow. there’s a sense of amusement in his eyes, and something in you knows he likes the attention. your teasing words buzz with endearment, akin to a purr. ”my sweet lil’ sugu.”

all he does is lean into your touch, allowing himself to melt into the tenderness of the physical contact. even as you pull at his cheek, earning you a very gentle pinch to your side. but he lets you have your fun. you’re warm, and sweet, and he’s so in love with you he’d probably let you tug his body around however you please.

still, your words leave him just slightly perplexed. he’s still smiling with half-lidded eyes when he asks you to elaborate, basking in the feeling of your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. ”us?”

your grin widens, by a tad, something deeply amused glimmering in the depths of your iris. ”yep,” you answer, popping the p. for some reason, suguru dreads the teasing edge to your voice. ”me, and shoko, and satoru.”

a moment passes. he stiffens, for a second or two, mind processing the words. then he groans, softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

it makes you laugh, soft and amused, and he can’t help but smile along. despite the dreadful realization you present him with. no wonder he was met with so many notifications when he tapped at the screen of his phone — he didn’t read through any of them, but now he’s apprehensive to do so at all. shoko and satoru can be so goddamn obnoxious when they feel as if they have blackmail on him.

he can see it now, in his mind’s eye; shoko nagging him to run her errands, satoru reminding him of his words every time they have a slight disagreement.

(grab me a coffee. three shots of espresso, one cube of sugar. got it?)

slacker.

(we both know i’m right. don’t be so stubborn, suguru! it’s okay to be wrong sometimes.)

asshole.

(c’mon. you said you loved me, right?

so mean. and here i thought you loved me!)

idiots.

(he does love them. more than anything. even when they’re being absolutely insufferable.)

suguru just sighs, deep and fatigued, already anticipating his doom. ”they’re never gonna let me live it down, are they?”

a giggle slips from your lips, and his heart flutters helplessly. ”probably not. my condolences.”

another sigh. it only makes your smile widen. there’s something awfully delighted, in your eyes, as you cradle his face in your hands. ”well, i thought you were very sweet!”

”yeah, yeah…” he mutters, vaguely amused. placing one of his large palms over your hand, where it rests on his cheek. ”i won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

a chuckles bubbles up from within your throat. ”aww,” you pout, giving way to a teasing grin. ”that’s a shame. i wanted to hear you talk about how much you love me again.”

suguru blinks.

then he smiles. a very particular smile, characteristic, one you’ve come to associate solely with him. resting somewhere in the intersection between a soft grin and a teasing smirk. a flicker of mischief shines in his eyes, and you realize your mistake.

you can tease suguru all you want; but he'll always turn the tables on you, at the end of the day.

”oh?” he chuckles, fondly, thumb smoothing over the lines of your hand. his eyes gleam, looking straight into yours, shining with something mildly devilish. ”i don’t need to get drunk to tell you that, baby.”

in a smooth motion, one you can’t help but silently envy, suguru intertwines his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his lips. he never once breaks eye contact, gaze heavy as he basks in your flustered expression, planting a soft kiss against your knuckle. reverent.

”i love you. more than anything,” he purrs, lips still lingering on your skin. warm enough to burn. ”you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

a pause. heat crawls up your spine, and a flush rises to your cheeks. you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

”my everything,” he continues, intent on flustering you as much as humanly possible. voice low and smooth, honeyed and deep, and worst of all; terribly earnest. lips trailing over your knuckles, against every knot, so soft that you barely feel it. ”my entire world.”

”okay, okay!” you sputter, an embarrassed hue to your cheeks, your gaze landing on the windowpane to your right. his stare is just too heavy, too deeply in love. overwhelming. ”point taken. nevermind.”

suguru laughs, genuine and full. warm and amused, deep and real, and you catch yourself thinking that you don’t want to go a single day without hearing it. even if it’s at your own expense.

a coo rests on his the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, opting to lean forward instead. he trails the pads of his fingers along your jaw, touch like a butterfly, lifting your chin up ever so slightly. then he closes the distance between you.

in your throat, your breath hitches.

— but he doesn’t kiss you. suguru stops right in front of your lips, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, taking a moment to simply look into your eyes. and despite how flustered the close proximity makes you, you can’t bring yourself to look away. heart fluttering madly, a string of staccatos against your parted ribs.

a tilt of his head. amber eyes gleaming, crinkled and fond. ”can i kiss you, now?” he asks, grinning softly. hand smoothing down your hip, big and warm, teasing. ”i made sure to brush away all the alcohol. or do you still not want to?”

you pause.

”hey, what happened to not remembering anything?” you pout, narrowing your eyes. the corner of suguru’s bottom lip twitches upwards.

but he only shrugs, feigning nonchalance, a playful glint in his eyes. ”guess i was just that disappointed.”

a giggle flows from your lips. he drinks it in, gazing at you with pure contentment.

”alright, alright... c’mere,” you coo, smile honeyed and sweet. tracing your fingertips along his jaw, brushing a silky strand of hair behind his ear. you take in the sight of him, meeting his lovesick gaze. he squeezes at your hips softly, a little impatient — so you finally lean in.

suguru’s lips are warm, when they meet yours. they taste like sunlight, devoid of any alcoholic flavour, just like he so kindly assured you of. and it’s a little amusing, the thought of him in front of the bathroom sink — desperately scrubbing his teeth, just to get his kissing privileges back. such a dork.

he’s your dork, though.

suguru sighs into the kiss, smiling giddily, satisfied at last. a sound you can’t help but mirror. he deepens it, ever so slightly, fingers squeezing gently at the plush of your waist. a hum of approval buzzes in your throat, and his smile only grows.

when he pulls away, that smile is all you can see, along with the ever so slight flush to his cheeks. a hint of peach dusting his skin, framed by the sunrays caressing his jaw, highlighting his handsome features. breathtaking.

before you have a chance to protest, he’s leaning in again, to press one more chaste kiss to your lips. your heartbeat picks up.

everything finally feels just right.

the warmth of the sizzling pan, the fragrance of freshly made coffee and now-burnt pancakes. the light of the morning sun, scattered across the open space of your apartment, splotches of life painting everything in a heavenly glow. the love in the air, all soft and light and comfortable.

domestic bliss. with suguru, who never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. if you could live in this moment for the rest of your life, forever and ever, you’re sure you’d die happy.

and wow, is that a heavy word. forever.

(but suguru makes it feel so very, very light.)

forever feels a lot more real, like this. cradled in the midst of a drowsy morning, bumping elbows with the man you love most, after getting to take care of him in his most vulnerable state. accepting every part of him, and having him accept you just as fervently.

just this moment alone is worth far more than you could ever comprehend.

suguru, with his warm hands, his familiar embrace. your shared laughter, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen as you try in vain to save your scorched pancakes. and his smile, his fervent devotion, coaxing him into eating them even though they’re burnt at the edges and don’t taste even a quarter as good as his. because you made them, for him, and that makes them taste sweeter than anything.

you stare at him, from across the table, admiring the sight you’ve grown so used to; suguru, with his slightly tousled hair, mug in hand and smile painted on his handsome face. drowned in sunlight, pink petals flitting in through the opened window. you don’t want a single day to ever pass without you seeing this. what does that mean, exactly? you think you know.

it means forever.

(forever, forever, forever. what a pretty word.)

marriage. you think of it, again, let it linger in the depths of your skull, bounce around until you grow just a little more used to it. and it’s a scary thought, for sure. a terrifying thought, even, something so foreign that it makes you nervous. but you truly wouldn’t mind doing this forever — not one bit. not if it’s with him.

and, unbeknownst to you, maybe that promise of forever isn’t all that far off.

maybe it’s only a couple rooms away, hidden within the depths of a certain drawer, until suguru finally gets the courage to bring it out. and maybe, just maybe — that day isn’t all that far off, either.

(suguru smiles at you, from across the table. he thinks you look ethereal, sipping from your morning coffee, blinking tiredly. so sweet and angelic.

all he can think of is forever.)

#finalllyyyyyyy took the time to finish this r u proud of me 👉👈#im very very soft for this sugu in particular :< kinda takes place in the same universe as the breakfast sugu fic !!!!#he’s ur smitten husband-to-be <333 i love to see suguru geto thrive and be happy i think being a househusband could save him #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #jjk fluff #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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twig-tea · 16 days ago

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East Palace, West Palace in ep5 of Blue Canvas of Youthful Days

I have been punched in the solar plexus by Blue Canvas of Youthful Days episode 5. So much happens in that episode that is overwhelming, from Qi Lu setting up a Netflix-and-chill date with the clear intention of making a move, to his putting on the famous film East Palace, West Palace (1996), to Qi Lu hiding Qin Xiao in the closet, to Qi Lu's panic at his father realizing he's been lied to, to the devastatingly practiced way Teacher Liu steps to Qi Lu being abused and handles his father, to the way Qi Lu shuts down, to the way QIn Xiao keeps sending mixed signals and Qi Lu calls him on it directly. And nobody else in this episode let me rest either; Tan Fan trying to ask Teacher Liu to wait for him and Liu brushing him off AGAIN, and Turtle trying to call out

@lurkingshan was already more coherent than I can be right now about what happened in the episode in her post.

So instead I want to focus on some queer cinema history that this episode evoked by using East Palace, West Palace as the film that Qi Lu shows to QIn Xiao.

For those who don't know, EPWP is considered to be the first realistic depiction of a gay man in film by a mainland Chinese production. It is to my knowledge the first time a gay man says "I love you" to another man on screen. It was made before being gay was decriminalized in China (1997), and it was filmed by an independent production company and smuggled out of China to France in order to be finished and distributed. It ended up at the Cannes festival in 1997, but the director's passport was seized and he was placed under house arrest to prevent him from attending. Despite pressure to pull the film, it still aired that year. In 1998, the Film Law was passed to prevent anyone from making films outside of the studio system (and therefore censorship review), effectively preventing anything like EPWP from being made in the future.

The film is about a gay man who cruises in the notorious bathrooms in the parks on either side of Tiananmen Square getting harassed by police officers (a situation extremely familiar to the historical queer experience in Canada [where I'm from] as well) and playing what I'd describe as a psychological game with one of them; A Lan kisses the cop, runs, and then gets caught a second time, and uses the second police confession as an excuse to tell his life's story in the public record, all while pushing the police officer a little further into deviance. As far as I'm aware, this film has been banned in China since being made and never shown (please correct me if I'm wrong about that!).

This is hitting me hard because of the much more recent history of Blue Canvas of Youthful Days itself. As most of you know, but I'll capture here for posterity, episodes 1-4 of this show aired on iQIYI (a China-based app) on August 6, and within 24 hours they were pulled from the app with no information about the future episodes being shown. When I watched episode 5 today, after waiting for it for 3 months, I was immediately hit with a wave of anger that this gorgeous, emotionally moving and powerful episode had been held back from public consumption for months, for the same reasons that the film being shown within the episode had been withheld from viewing in its own country.

Censorship is such an ugly thing, it's hard to articulate but the emotions around it are so strong because we know, when they pull or refuse to show media that depicts our lives, it's because they don't want our lives to be real; they don't want us to exist. It's a very real threat. And to have this episode--which is all about an abused boy who is in very real danger but so bravely insisting that he shoot his shot and take his best chance at love and happiness anyway, using the iconic confession scene from one of the most famous banned films in Chinese queer cinema history to do it--to have this episode be the one that was prevented from airing......I am overwhelmed.

In the scenes they watch in episode 5, A Lan tries to prevent the officer from uncuffing him, and then the officer lets him go, but A Lan doesn't go far and comes back. He declares his love to the officer's face, and demands that his love be acknowledged and not dismissed. And the officer does not know what to do with it and reacts with violence, which is partially what A Lan has been angling at all along. The show really played with this by having all three of the couples in the show stymied by having their overtures dismissed this episode, but we almost didn't get to see it.

I'm so grateful this got distribution now, and on multiple platforms. Blue Canvas of Youthful Days is airing Saturdays and Sundays on GagaOOLala and Youtube (note, as per @thisonelikesaliens's excellent language posts, the subs on Gaga are much better), and on Mondays on Viki. I know there is an avalanche of content right now, but this show is so good and worked so hard to make it to us, please give it some love!

#blue canvas of youthful days #east palace west palace (1996)#typed so that i can stop thinking it #queer history

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eekshade · 6 months ago

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hey!! sry for not writing anything for 5 months, school has been yucky, but im back!! i started with an alphabet bc it was an easy way to ease myself back into writing. also happy gay month 🫶

Bucky Barnes Fluff Alphabet

bucky barnes x m!reader

word count: 4.4k

warnings/info: letter J depicts a make out sesh ig, internalized homophobia is mentioned, Buck cries, use of you/your for reader but is said to be male, there are scenes after the hcs for a little bit but I gave up on that lol, made in my notes app so sry for any formatting issues, not proof read

A - Admiration. (what do they admire about their S/O?)

☆ Bucky loves your hands. He likes how "innocent" they are compared to his. He adores when you hold his hand, especially the vibranium one. It makes him feel all warm and soft inside. It causes his stomach to ache (in a loving way), and it makes him want to love himself.

The two of you are slowly making your way through the crowded farmer's market, somewhat resembling a can of sardines. You were walking in front of him, taking notice of a small clearing off to the side, grasping his metallic hand, pulling him behind you. He follows without question, a small smile pointed at your two interlocked hands.

Once stopped in the empty area, before you could even think of letting go of him, he pulled you into him, placing his cracked lips onto your own.

"You know I love you, right?"

"Of course I do."

He kisses you again.

B - Boldness. (how bold are they in regards to their S/O? who confessed first?)

☆ Bucky was a confident man in his youth, always the one making the first move. Ever since he started living in Brooklyn again, he started to notice the anxiety crawling up his throat whenever he interacted with others. This is why he wouldn't start talking to you, even if he's interested in you, so you would need to initiate the first few (dozen) conversations before he starts to feel comfortable around you. That being said, given that you've been talking as friends/acquaintances, he'll have no problem asking you out, it might just take me some time.

☆ Once in a relationship he is extremely bold, there are still some topics where he would be more hesitant to talk about (such as the full extent of his past), but when it comes to you he won't having any problem charmin' you like there’s no tomorrow.

Bucky lingers in front of your shared apartment building hoping to catch you on your way home after a day out, he nervously switches from leaning on a tree to sitting on a bench, then back to the tree. He only waits for about five or so minutes before he notices you walking on the pavement leading to the building, but after locking eyes with him, your course changes.

"Hey, Bucky!"

"y/n! I'm glad I caught you, can I walk you up?"

You simply smile and nod in the direction of the door. You smell like newly washed clothes, but to Bucky, it might as well be heaven. You break the silence by asking him about his day, he breifly responds, giving you some of the highlights, you two chit-chat for bit, not able to dive into much as the trip is rather short. By the time you two reach your door, he realizes that he longer can try to find the perfect segue so he might as well just go for it.

"...Well, thanks for walking with me." You smile at him, reaching for the door handle.

"Wait, y/n, I wanted to talk to you about something." You raise your eyebrows as a sort of permission for him to continue.

"I hope I wasn't misreading this, but would you like to get dinner together sometime?" His voice remains unwavering, with a sly smile dancing across his face.

You roll your eyes at his tone, but it's hard to hide the smile forming at the corners of your mouth,"I guess I don't see why not."

"Yeah, yeah," he snickers, "here." It's his number written on the back of receipt, a small smiley face had been drawn next to it, then erased.

"See you, Bucky."

"Bye, y/n."

C - Comfort. (how do they comfort their S/O?)

☆ Bucky is more of an advice guy than a comfort guy, this is due to him getting extremely awkward/uncomfortable during touchy, feely situations (and not because he doesn't know how to confront his own emotions!!). However, he does understand the need for warmth during hard times, he just opts to show it through acts of service instead.

Your thoughts thrash against the walls inside your head, the throbbing only getting worse as you slowly pull yourself out of his bed. Your face caked in sweat and dried tears, your bloodshot eyes drift to the phone resting upon the on of the nightstands, your unsteady hand grips the device, checking the time.

The late afternoon sun coats the walls in an irritable light, despite the curtains being mostly closed. You notice on the second nightstand that he left a glass of ice water (which was mostly melted now) and a note, which read:

"EVERYTHING NEEDED FOR A BATH IS ON THE BATHROOM COUNTER - ILL BE BACK WITH YOUR FAVORITE ASAP :)"

D - Dates. (do they prefer going out or staying in? do they prefer fancy or simple?)

☆ Bucky has a really hard time with this one. All he is used to are the classic dinner and a movie type dates, but in his heart, he likes the more intimate, at home, kind. Over time, he finds a sort of balance between the two, like a picnic at a drive-in movie.

"Bucky, where the hell are we?"

The two of you are currently driving down backroads you've never seen before. The road is slightly too narrow for anyone to get fully comfortable, the night sky darkening the path. Bucky has been relatively quiet, letting you do all the talking, and control the music; he never has liked modern music, but there's something special about when you play it.

"Well, if I tell you it's not really a surprise, is it?" He answered, turning his head to you slightly. The smile on his face is almost aggravating, if it had been anyone else's, you would've jumped out of the moving vehicle.

"You're not funny," you playfully roll your eyes, "if I didn't know you any better, I'd say you're trying to kill me." You pretend to study him as if trying to find a motive.

"Well, I can promise you I'm not doing that." The smile changes to softer, genuine.

The car is almost silent for the rest of the way, the soft music leading you two down the road. The car pulls into an unpaved parking lot, bringing you back to reality. You look around and see a white screen proudly standing twenty or so feet ahead of you, realizing what's going on, you turn to Bucky. A nervous grin shines back at you, he's holding a basket filled with dinner, and movie snacks.

"You like it?"

E - Equal. (are they more dominant or passive?)

☆ Due to Bucky growing up in the 40s, he does still have quite a bit of internalized homophobia. Therefore, he tends to try and be the stereotypical, manly, provider. He does unconsciously feminize you to make himself feel better, but the second he realizes, or you tell him, he'll do everything to stop, as well as profusely apologize.

☆ Other than that, I do see him as being in the middle. He can obviously take control when he needs to, but also because of his past, he loves when you take the pressure off, and take care of him.

(I can't think of a scene for this rn, and I rlly need to finish this so sry, if anyone want more about this just ask)

F - Family. (do they want to start a family?)

☆ Bucky loves kids, and is great with them, but he doesn't want to have his own, at least until he's stable. So for now he's okay with being the cool uncle.

After spending a lake day with the Wilsons, it was noticeable that Bucky wanted to say something. He looked uncomfortable, nervous even as he waited for everyone to finally call it a night. A little after the kids were put to bed, Sarah called it in, then Sam. You went to follow, seeing as it may be weird to stay up longer than the hosts, but Bucky ushered you to follow him to the back deck.

You sat on the stairs next to him in silence, waiting for him to speak, the warm air surrounding you two. He bit his lip and looked at you, studying you.

"I love you," He smiles at you, his tone signifying a second part of what he needs to say.

"But?" You laugh, nervousness now making its way into you.

"But I can't give you this." He has tears in his eyes, threatening to fall if he says anything else.

"What does that mean?" Confusion grips you tightly, his face giving nothing away.

"An apple pie life," he laughs at his own words, "I can't give you the house, and two kids, dinner by 6, it's all too much for that." He looks to the lake as if it could help him.

"Bucky," you gently take his chin, making him look at you, "what makes you think I want that?"

"The way you looked at me," he wipes a fallen tear from his cheek, "when I was playing with Cass and AJ today.

"Oh, Bucky." You kiss a tear away from the side of his nose, "I don't need any of that, hon. I just need you."

G - Goofy. (how serious are they when it comes to a relationship?)

☆ When it comes to a romantic relationship, Bucky can be pretty serious, while he is smooth/sly, 'goofy' isn't really the word I'd use to describe him. Not to say he wouldn't be funny, but I feel as though his humor is more sarcastic than anything.

(same thing as before)

H - Hugs. (how do they hug?)

☆ I imagine Bucky's skin to be cold, so that transfers to his hugs, but he's cold like a soft breeze on a hot beach. His hugs would also be very firm because of obvious reasons. If he's in an emotional mood, they may be slightly too hard, but never enough to hurt you.

You shiver slightly as his arms wrap around your frame, his head resting upon your shoulder. You two stay like that for a moment before he shifts his head into the crook of your neck, leaving a chaste kiss on it before planting his nose to touch your skin; eyelashes softly tickling you as he blinks.

"I miss you."

I - Interests. (what Interests do they want to share with their S/O?)

☆ Bucky's a fucking nerd, his main interests being motorcycles, fantasy novels (reading in general), folklore, and ancient history.

Bucky smiled widely as he firmly gripped some obscure fantasy novel with a dragon on the cover, unintentionally waving it around. He's excitedly explaining the novel to you, about how well written the book is, about how interesting the character dynamics are, and so on. You mirror his smile as you watch him talk, hanging on to every word that falls off his tongue.

You stand, your smile never wavering as you walk toward him, he stops talking, confused. Once you reach him, you pull him into your grasp, kissing his cheek, holding him close.

"What?" His voice lacking confidence, his smile now unsure.

"Keep talking." You mumble into him, "I like it when you talk." He grins and continues his rant.

J - Jealousy. (do they get jealous?)

☆ He can get jealous, this is do to his trust issues, but he's mature enough that he won't be a bitch about it unless you want him to, he'll just talk to you, and the two of you will work through it one way or another. He does get rather clingy when jealous, though, wanting to touch you in some way.

You and Bucky are currently at your workplace, your boss decided in order to boost morale that a company party was needed, and you (thankfully) convinced Bucky to go, promising it'll be quick.

Both of you were chatting with one of your work friends when they asked you to come help them get refreshments, leaving Bucky alone with their spouse. Bucky wanted to be nice, he did, but the spouse would not stop going on and on about some shit Bucky had never even heard of. So, naturally, his eyes wander trying to locate you, hoping that you'll come back and save him from this dreadful conversation, and that's when he saw it. Your co-worker was basically feeling you up, their eyes traced your figure as you bent over to grab a couple of waters from the case on the floor, and when you stood back up they grabbed your waist to "move you out of the way" of someone walking by.

The final straw was when you attempted to walk back to Bucky and their spouse, they grabbed you by the elbow stopping you from moving, the grip wasn't very hard from what Bucky could see, but the look on your face was enough to get him moving.

Bucky walked away from the spouse mid sentence. They called out at him, but he paid it no mind. He reached the two of you, and you smiled at him, saying something along the lines of "What couldn’t stand to be without me?" Bucky rolled his eyes when the co-worker asked what he was doing.

"Sorry to cut this short, but honey, we got to go." Overpronouncing the pet name, as he pulls you toward him.

"What? You just got here!" The co-worker joked, "Come on, y/n! The night is still young." He whined out.

"I'm sorry, but Buck's right. I promised to make dinner tonight in order for him to come." You laughed, pulling Bucky's hand into your grasp, "See you on Monday though." You smiled at them, causing Bucky to tighten the grip of his hand around yours.

The second the two of you walked out of the building Bucky pushed you against the wall of it, just barely out of view from the window, kissing you harshly. You opened your mouth in shock, giving Bucky the opportunity to slide his tongue in. His hands roam your body in search for nothing in particular, he smirks when you moan into the kiss, motivating him to pull as much of those pretty little sounds out of you as he can. He thinks of your co-worker, the slimy bastard, they could never have you like this, this thought makes his smile grow as he attaches to your neck, and slips his knee in between your legs. Once he's satisfied with your disheveled state, he silently walks away to the car, leaving you to follow him, confused, calling out for him to slow down.

K - Kiss. (how they kiss/favorite place to be kissed, and vise versa.)

☆ Bucky’s kisses are tender/soft, this is attributed to him subconsciously not wanting to hurt you in any way, so any time he touches you it's rather gentle. His lips tend to taste a little like blood, because he has a habit of biting them.

☆ His favorite place to kiss you is on your cheek, specifically with his hands on your hips as a form of greeting.

☆ His favorite place to be kissed is his neck, it feels special, a place just for you and no one else, it's a form of intimacy he hasn't been able to truly experience until now. He especially likes it when you hug him from behind kissing up from the top of his spine to his nape hairline.

Bucky uncomfortably cleaned the kitchen as he waited for you to return from work; he had recently moved in to your place, and it was just now starting to hit him how serious you guys were. You and him have been dating for quite a while, he stayed over more times than not, so it was only natural for you to ask him to move in. He said yes of course, how could he not? He thought about the two of you, about him no longer sleeping in your bed, but sleeping in his. Next to you. It's driving him insane, oh god - when did he start crying? Seriously though, how could you chose him? He just doesn't understand how this happened, how could you, of all people, want him? More tears. God, Bucky, pull yourself together man.

His thoughts screech to a halt as he hears the door open, he hears you call out his name, he doesn't respond, wiping the tears, this proved to be a lot harder to do as one's tears are still actively falling. You find him within a few seconds, he's facing the sink, you snicker at his concentration; you walk up to him, making sure not to be silent, though there’s not a doubt in your mind he knows you're there. You wrap your arms around his lower torso, placing your chin on his shoulder. His hands stop moving as he leans into the touch.

"Hey, Buck." You softly whisper, "You get out today?"

"Of course I have." He turns his head down slightly, trying to avoid eye contact, "You worry too much." He grumbles, he attempts to move his arms forward, but stops when he feels your lips graze his nape.

"I like worrying about you." Another kiss. "It keeps me grounded." You laugh into his neck.

"Please." He drags out the word in an almost whiney tone, moving his head back to get even closer to your mouth, "Please don't stop."

You consister teasing him, turning his chin to look at you, but stop when you see his wet cheeks you decide against it. You leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth as a sort of apology, before going back to what you were doing to the back of his neck.

"God, Buck, you know how much I love you?" You mumble into his skin after a few moments.

"No, I don't think I do," He smiles at the wall, "how much?"

You unravel your arms from around him, placing them on his shoulders, turning him to face you. You deeply press your lips onto his nose, causing him to scrunch his face, the kiss makes a humming sound, before a soft pop of your lips.

"That much, times like a thousand." You giggle at his soft expression.

"Wow. That's a lot." He remarks with faux amazement, trying to make it seem like you didn't just make his heart nearly beat out of his chest.

"Yeah it is." You exaggerate the words, gripping his cheeks for one last kiss.

L - Love Language.

☆ Bucky's love language is definitely acts of service. He enjoys doing things for you, and putting his skills to use, I think this can been seen in fatws when he helps Sam with repairing the boat, and getting him a new suit. He likes surprising you with household takes already completed when you get home, he absolutely basks in the praise you give him for doing this.

(yuck. This is where I officially give up on the scenes, as said prior if you want to see any specific ones just ask!!)

M - Meals. (kitchen dynamics.)

☆ Bucky doesn't like to cook with other people, you can watch for sure! But he doesn't like to share the space too closely, it just annoys him when people do things he believes he can do more efficiently.

☆ The two of you will most likely do A/B days when it comes to cooking and clean up, unless one person is pampering the other/it's a special occasion.

N - Nicknames. (what do they call their S/O?)

☆ His nicknames for you are obviously older, and slightly feminine (unless you tell him off), he starts you relationship with names like, doll, darling, and dove. As time progresses he will start incorporating handsome into his list of pet names. All that being said, I don't think he's too into pet names, for the most part he'll just say your real name.

O - Openness. (how open are they about their past/emotions with their S/O?)

☆ He starts telling you about his past in the form of jokes (like that one date scene in fatws). He's able to tell you about everything in a factual tone a few months into dating (just so he knows he trusts you), as far as his emotions surrounding it - that does obviously take longer, but in my opinion not by that much. The amount of emotion shared does vary, but maybe a month or two after he tells you about it for the first time, he'll start venting about his nightmares and such.

☆ also it does depend on how you view/retain media, because you might have already recognized his face/name.

P - PDA.

☆ Bucky is in the middle when it comes to PDA, he likes holding your hand, will give you goodbye kisses and such, but he doesn't go father then that. Half due to his social anxiety, half to him wanting the more intimate things to stay private.

Q - Quarrel. (how they apologize/ how long it takes them to forgive their S/O?)

☆ If Bucky feels he's in the right he can and will be petty, such as brushing you off, or making sarcastic comments. He typically won't confront you because of the attitude he holds, but when you decide to apologize he's ready to talk it out. He accepts your apology in time, (depending on what you did) but he is still standoffish for some time after, due to his trust issues.

☆ When he fucks up he is all over fixing it. He starts the apology in a very formal manner, stating how he knows he what he did was wrong, how he'll do better. The second part of the apology is him being (too) nice for the next week, as said on L his love language is acts of service so he'll overcompensate, and do every task you needed done.

R - Rules. (boundaries they have.)

☆ His "main" boundaries are focused around his past, such as you're not allowed to pry when it comes to asking about it - he will talk about it in his own time. You're also not allowed (at least for a long time) to touch the scars he has next to where his arm is attached, or the attachment itself. As far as other boundaries go, he doesn't want you to go further than hand holding, and a quick goodbye kiss in public, and he hates it when you pity him out right - keep that in your head.

S - Security. (how protective are they of their S/O?)

☆ He is very protective of you, not in a weird controlling way, but he always checks in out of fear someone will use you to get to him for one reason or another. This protectiveness isn't really that obvious, more just him checking in on you, and keeping an eye out when you're out together.

T - Time. (how long does it takes to fall for their S/O?)

☆ Bucky does take quite a bit of time to actually fall in love, but him finding you attractive/intriguing is very fast if not immediate. It takes about 2-3 months for him to ask you out (though he does flirt for a while first), and about 5-7 months of dating to "love" you.

U - Upset (what things upset them in a relationship?)

☆ He can get upset from a few things namely; everything said in R, when you grab him first in his post nightmare state or during/after a panic attack (he wants to be the one to initiate contact, because sometimes he doesn't want to be touched), and if you disagree on politics - although Bucky isn't the kind of guy to compromise on those so it most likely won't happen, because he wouldn't be dating you in the first place.

V - Vacation. (what kind of traveler are they with their S/O?)

☆ Bucky's a NERD!! He likes to go to places with rich history/culture, and he won't take a second to rest, he just wants to see everything, can you blame him? If you're the kind of person who wants to spend a day relaxing by the pool, I'm sorry, but he will leave you behind without hesitation.

W - Words. (promises they make to their S/O.)

☆ Bucky promises to never hurt you in any way shape or form, he promises to protect you agianst others who wish to harm you, and he promises to never leave you behind as he doesn't want anyone, especially you, to feel how he felt.

X - Xenial. (how they make you feel welcome/what makes them feel welcome?)

☆ Bucky likes to do little things for you to make you feel welcome/comfortable around him. This comes in different shapes and forms, such as complimenting you in every which way, making mental notes of things you like, and always being ready to help you out with anything you may need.

☆ Bucky feels the most welcome when it's explicitly said that he is. You using your words to validate him, not even compliment him, but just say he's doing fine, it does more for him then you could imagine.

Y - Yearning. (do they miss their S/O easily? what do they do about it?)

☆ Bucky is able to survive being isolated for long periods of time, even going as far to do it intentionally, but you've weakened him. He misses you rather fast. Now, it's not like he's going to cry over it or anything, but he will sometimes sit up at night unable to sleep without you next to him.

☆ Let's say that you two, for whatever reason, can't call. Bucky is an old fashioned guy, he likes to keep a least one physical photo of you on him at all times. He says it's his good luck charm; he would never tell you however, is that when you two are separated he keeps the photo as close as possible at nights because it calms him down from his nightmares.

Z - Zzz. (sleeping habits/how they cuddle.)

☆ As said so many times throughout this list, Bucky gets nightmares, and sometimes he can't fall back asleep afterwards so he gets up to go do his own thing, because of this while the two of you do sleep near eachother, you rarely cuddle. It's not even that he doesn't want to cuddle, he does, it's the fact he feels like a burden any time he wakes you, so instead he lied and told you he doesn't like them.

☆ Other sleep facts about him is that he runs hot at night, somewhere earlier it's said he's cold to touch, but for whatever reason he can not have more than one blanket on him, plus your body heat.

☆ His typical sleepwear is a pare of shorts, and if you want to count them, his dogtags. During the colder months he'll add a long sleeve shirt, or even just a standard tee, depends on his mood.

MARVEL MASTERLIST

#marvel x male reader #bucky x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #male reader #bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #mlm fanfic #gay

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svsssfanonarchive · 1 year ago

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Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 3/∞

CANG QIONG MOUNTAIN'S TWELVE PEAKS HAVE COLOR-CODED UNIFORMS

Rating: CANON

Fanworks will often depict the disciples of Cang Qiong Mountain's twelve peaks in matching, color-coded uniforms to each of their peak. This is not something that is often mentioned in the novel itself, but it is canonically accurate.

However, we do not know many of the peaks' signature colors. The fact that they do have specific uniforms in specific colors is canon, but many of the colors used in fanworks are, in fact, fanon.

In the text, only two peaks have canonically-designated uniform colors.

It is stated that there are set uniforms for all of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect's disciples:

Though the disciples on the peaks had to wear uniforms, there were also many acclaimed cultivators who weren’t subject to these restrictions...

and

Thankfully, on An Ding Peak, trivial matters like assigning rooms and uniforms to newly accepted disciples didn’t require the peak lord’s involvement.

and also a passage here:

Several hundred disciples in uniformly colored robes and furious expressions surrounded the invaders

In the original, the phrase "uniformly colored robes (服色统一)" could be read as all of Cang Qiong Mountain's disciples wearing the same-color uniform, but it could also be read that they were all dressed in uniform, as 服色 denotes both color and style of clothes (notable that "color" in Chinese is a more abstract concept than in English).

This passage isn't clear on its own, but there are other places where it is confirmed that the colors worn by the disciples of various peaks are different, and can be used to tell which peak a disciple belongs to:

[Shen Qingqiu] held his breath, attention rapt, and watched a youth in black rush out... ...The color of his robes confirmed that he really was from Bai Zhan Peak...

Aside from this, Qing Jing Peak's uniforms are the only others that are given a description:

Enveloped in Qing Jing Peak’s many-layered teal uniform, [SQQ] was immaculate and slender, with a great deal of graceful beauty.

While this passage describes the Peak Lord's attire and might not necessarily extend to the disciples, another passage shortly after this says:

A group of teal-robed boys and girls ran down Qing Jing Peak in a trailing conga line, one after another.

This confirms a uniform color used by the peak's disciples.

These passages, however, are the only ones which definitively state a uniform color for any of the twelve peaks-- meaning that we only know that Qing Jing Peak's uniforms are teal (青色）and Bai Zhan Peak's uniforms are black (黑色). Anything other than this is fanon and headcanon.

One more side note-- Luo Binghe is described as wearing white:

A seventeen-year-old youth, slim and tall and graceful, dressed in white robes

But this description only begins after the timeskip at the beginning of Chapter 4 (7S TL). Luo Binghe is, as of now, still a disciple of the sect, and thus would be required to wear a uniform. However, one important change had occured during this time-- Luo Binghe, at the time of the Immortal Alliance Conference, is Qing Jing Peak's head disciple.

The only time another head disciple's appearance is described is regarding Shen Qingqiu:

Shang Qinghua suddenly heard the tinkling of sword tassel pendants, and a youth wearing Qing Jing Peak’s uniform slowly approached him... ... His black hair was neatly tied behind his head with a light-green ribbon...

The color of his uniform is not stated, other than it being Qing Jing Peak's, and the "light-green" color of the hair ribbon is 青色，which is the same color translated as "teal" when describing QJP's uniforms above.

Therefore, one interpretation could be that head disciples of Cang Qiong Mountain's twelve peaks wear white uniforms with accessories in their peaks' designated color.

This, of course, is not explicitly canon and should still be taken as headcanon (I would categorize it as supported or neutral fanon on this blog).

However, the idea that the twelve peaks have each their own uniform colors, and that QJP's is teal and BZP's is black, are canonical facts.

#fanon exposed #svsss #cang qiong mountain #canon

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radioactive-earthshine · 4 months ago

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"Bart's aging has always been everywhere so it's not invalid to draw him like this [9-11 years old]."

Incorrect. While Bart's aging has been variable throughout the comics it has always been explained by a very clear and blatant events preceding the aging.

The youngest Bart has been in the comics barring flashbacks, and literal one-off aging time shenanigans, is 12 which was a thing for all of 3 pages then he rapidly aged to 14 and was stable for a long, long time.

Bart did not experience any changes in his aging (baring one gag issue where he was a toddler, and the Sins of Youth arc where he was an adult temporarily) for at least two years comic-time.

After apprehending Superboy Prime, Bart was aged to an adult, against the advisement of Geoff Johns and Mark Waid he spent time as The Flash until he was given a mercy kill.

Bart was brought back to life by Brainiac 5 in Legion of Three Worlds where he was reset back to his original age before he was aged up, landing him around 16-17 years old.

Flashpoint happened and he was taken out of comic continuity.

Bart come BACK into comic continuity but we are uncertain what his age is - and this is also something he himself is noted as saying he's not sure what his age is either. Logically, if he never aged while in the Speed Force then when he popped back out he would still be around 17 years old. This is the youngest he can be. Tim, Cassie and Cissie meanwhile aged around a year since Flashpoint and their ages are nebulous. Kon's age as well is uncertain.

Realistically, the Core Four should be in the 18-20 range at the youngest, but if we're going to be 'fair' and accept the reboot fucked age relationships up - then their last posted ages anywhere from 16-18 would be valid.

Bart is not being drawn anywhere near that age group currently in the current run of The Flash and is consistently being depicted as smaller than Jai. This could be valid, as 13 year olds can be VERY BIG and for some completely at their adult height - but the thing is Bart is being drawn SMALLER than he was pre-Flashpoint.

I am so sorry I am so agitated. Even being FAIR it doesn't add up or make sense.

Fixed typos and an error.

#bart allen

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chatonarya · 14 days ago

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I love Enciodes's module. It adds so much to his character. It paints such a vivid picture of this lonely, grieving, frustrated, hurting youth, who nevertheless doggedly kept the spark of hope and idealism alive in his heart.

It's called "Snow Realm Fowlcare Kit," and is told from the perspective of Enciodes's perpetual companion: Tenzin. The image depicts an assortment of bird-related paraphernalia which Enciodes used (and perhaps still uses) to take care of Tenzin.

When it awoke, it found itself lying in a warm room. The unfamiliar environment frightened it and it wanted to leave, but it was in so much pain it could not move. The door opened, and through it strode a Feline boy with silver hair and a thick tail. He approached it with liniment and gauze in hand, applying the medicine in the bottle to the wound before bandaging it up. It struggled a little at first, but was too weak to do anything but accept the boy's treatment before falling into a deep slumber.

We open with how the two met: Tenzin awakening in Enciodes's room, afraid and hurt. Tenzin is first introduced to Enciodes with an act of kindness: cleansing and wrapping the bird's injury. We don't know what kind of injury it is, but considering how Tenzin is in pain too overwhelming to even move, I can only presume it's a grievous wound for a young bird, likely one which would lead to the creature's death if left untreated.

So right off the bat, we have the impression that Enciodes is the kind of the person who would come across a severely wounded animal and rescue it in the hopes that he might still be able to save its life. While Enciodes himself draws a distinction between his childhood self and his adult self, not unreasonably, this is something that we can still see the glimmers of--positive and negative--in him later on, not only in the way he saves Degenbrecher but in the way he seeks to save all of Kjerag from ruin.

On the second day, the boy took it back to where it had been found. They wandered through the woods for an entire day until the boy was exhausted and gasping for breath, but in the end found only the remains of two adult fowlbeasts. He built a small grave for them, then turned to it and said: 'Now, both of us are in the same boat.' The boy took it back to his room, and the tiny nest inside became its new home. The boy would come check on it every day. He liked to gently wipe its plumage while chatting with it, unconcerned with whether it could understand him.

Enciodes was so determined to return this baby bird home that he spent the whole day searching to the point of exhaustion to try to find Tenzin's parents. Not only that, but when he found them dead, he took the time to build them a grave. It's so sweet and pure of him to spend his time like this for a mere bird, particularly as we can see by the mention of them being "in the same boat" that this happened not long after the accident that took Olafur and Elizabeth. No doubt, struggling to cope with grief is what sent Enciodes wandering in the woods and finding Tenzin in the first place. And immediately, he finds this to be the point of connection between them: they're both orphans now. I can't help but wonder if Enciodes building a grave for the dead birds was a form of closure for him--Olafur and Elizabeth died in a train accident. Was there anything left of them to bury at all (if the Kjerags bury their dead)? Possibly not. At least he could give the birds a proper send-off.

And with no other choice, he doesn't hesitate to bring Tenzin back home with him, resolved to care for this feeble creature that he rescued, because who else would? They're in the same boat, after all.

It's also clear that caring for Tenzin gave Enciodes a much-needed psychological outlet, a form of healthy distraction from the many burdens on his shoulders and the loss of his parents. Looking after an injured animal even more helpless than himself and wholly dependent on him must have been a form of therapy and comfort for him, especially because it was someone he could talk to and who would listen and not judge him. Every single day, without fail, he wiped Tenzin's feathers and presumably changed the dressing of its wound, talking to it about his troubles--because he had no-one else to talk to.

...... Like that one night, when the boy approached it with a sullen face and said: 'I'm confident I have what it takes to be a strong clan leader or a good brother, but I cannot guarantee I can do both at once.' The boy sighed as he spoke. He contemplated for a long time, before finally running off to return with a box that smelled nice. Inside was his sister's favorite dish.

This one stings, and it wouldn't surprise me if this is foreshadowing for the final reveal of what was the argument between Enya and Enciodes the night before she went on the Saintess's trial. Enciodes, who has been groomed to become the clan's leader since virtually the moment he was born, has come to the painful realization that he has to choose between being a good leader and being a good brother, because he cannot do both at the same time.

This plays into a recurring theme in the Kjerag stories: choosing between family and leadership. We've seen it in the conflicts between the Browntail sisters and how they envy each other's position but most clearly with how Ratatos feel hollow and deprived of her sister's mundane happiness; in the way Arctosz chose to send Tatyana and Rosalind back to Ursus, as even being leader of Paleroches wasn't enough to guarantee their safety after the Silverashes were targeted; in the way Enciodes complains as a child that his own father can't even smile when he's with his family; and of course, in the ongoing conflict between Enciodes and Enya and how they must set aside their blood relation to each other in their leadership roles, and how those leadership roles further divide them from each other and from Ensia.

While for now, as he retrieves Enya's favorite dish, Enciodes is trying to do what he can for his sisters while he still can, we know his choice is a foregone conclusion: he chose to become a strong clan leader over being a good brother. Ultimately, he chose the clan and chose Kjerag as a whole over his relationship with his sisters, no doubt in part because he believes protecting Kjerag from the threats posed by the outside world is the best thing he can do for the country and for them as a whole, and in part because it was always his dream that Kjerag should, could, and would be more, as is seen in Gnosis's oprec. Enciodes has always been dissatisfied with Kjerag's standing in the world, and has always wanted to change this.

But we see here that as I said in my previous essay, he did not make that decision lightly and it was a decision that caused him emotional anguish. This module as a whole, as well as Gnosis's oprec, demonstrates painfully clearly that Enciodes was a normal child. He had his dreams, his quirks, his interests, his struggles--and he did, in fact, care about his family a normal amount. But he was forced to make a choice, and make a choice he did.

...... Like that one afternoon, when the boy approached it with a tinge of melancholy in his voice: 'I want to graciously wish Gnosis success on his new journey, yet I selfishly hope for him to stay.' Perhaps because he had been bottling it in for so long, the boy spent the next half hour explaining to it the situation of the Edelweiss clan, the difficulties facing Gnosis, and his reluctance to part ways with his best friend. In the end, he sighed again and said, 'Alas, you're the only who can hear me out. I'd better think of a farewell gift for him now.'

I talked about this in-depth in another post, so I'll try not to repeat myself. I'm glad to see it explicitly stated that Gnosis is Enciodes's best friend; likely, at this point, still his only friend, too. It breaks my heart how Enciodes is so stressed and has been bottling up his feelings about Gnosis in the wake of the blame being pinned on the Edelweisses that he pours his heart out to Tenzin for half an hour. Tenzin is the only one whom Enciodes can talk to about the Edelweisses and their hardships, which underscores just how bad their situation in Kjerag was and how awkward Enciodes's position must have been as the ostensible victim of theirs. It must have been difficult for Enciodes to even go on seeing Gnosis, much less openly associating with him as the son of his parents' murderers, after everything happened.

Enciodes knows the polite thing to do is bid Gnosis good luck going abroad, but he's unable to do this just yet because he selfishly, desperately, hopes that somehow Gnosis will stay. This is how much Gnosis means to him: even though it's possible that Gnosis's life will be in danger if he remains in Kjerag, his companionship is so important to Enciodes that even knowing all of this, even knowing that the Edelweisses are at the epicenter of all of Kjerag's hatred right now, Enciodes still wishes he could stay. He doesn't want to be alone. He doesn't want to be without Gnosis--his one friend, the one person who shares his dream and the one person who understands him and with whom he shares a deep connection outside of his family.

But alas: there is nothing Enciodes can do. He can't keep Gnosis there. Sooner rather than later, he has to bid Gnosis good-bye, and make him that promise one last time, "I'll come find you," probably fearful deep down that they'll never see each other again.

I wonder, also, what was Enciodes's farewell gift to Gnosis. (I'd be over the moon if Gnosis's second module was about this.) Gnosis probably gave him one of the traditional Edelweiss family knives if he hadn't already, but what could Enciodes give him? Something to remind Gnosis of him, their friendship, their shared dream, their promised future together.

...... And like that day when its wounds healed, and the boy took it out to the snowy plains to practice flying. When it was about to take off, he took out a black silk scarf, tied the fabric around its neck, and asked: 'Will you come with me?' —At that moment, the boy had already decided to set aside the burdens of being a clan leader and depart from the Snow Realm to study abroad. It simply cocked its head and looked at him. Of course, it did not know what the boy was worried about, why he was anxious, or why he was sad. But perhaps, it sensed that the boy, just like it, did not wish to stay confined in a warm room. He wished to soar beneath the blue sky— It spread its wings and leapt forward. Then, to the boy's happy, surprised shouts, it took off with the wind. On that day, it learned to fly once again.

As soon as Tenzin's wounds have healed, Enciodes takes it out to practice flying. If Tenzin was just a baby when Enciodes rescued it, it never even had to opportunity to learn to fly from its parents, but Enciodes is clearly resolved to find a way anyway, or maybe believes that Tenzin will somehow be able to do it through instinct. Yet first, he must ask it a question, as he's already made up his mind to continue on the path he'd previously chosen.

I love how he straight-up asks Tenzin if Tenzin will go with him. He's cared for this bird for probably weeks, spoken to and petted it on a daily basis, given it a home because it has no other--for all intents and purposes, it belongs to him now and will never be able to survive in the wild again, and even the scarf he ties around its neck can be taken as a symbol of ownership rather than a token of affection. Yet still, approaching the verge of departing Kjerag, he sees fit to ensure Tenzin can fly and has its own free will to choose whether or not it wants to go with him. Undoubtedly, Tenzin went with him to Victoria, and I'm sure Enciodes was happy to have his beloved pet as company in an unfamiliar country, particularly given how nervous and uncomfortable he is there.

It's beautiful as well how Tenzin is a metaphor for Enciodes himself in this last section. Through their long time together, even if Tenzin doesn't fully understand Enciodes's words or complex problems, it understands his emotions, and shares his joy and his sorrow. And through this bond, Tenzin feels that Enciodes, too, longs for freedom, for more beyond the comfortable isolation and willful ignorance of Kjerag--he, too, wants to fly. And Enciodes's determination, however battered, is inspiration for Tenzin to fly once more. They're one and the same in this last moment: two creatures both wounded albeit in different ways, seeking the earliest opportunity to spread their wings, literal and metaphorical.

(Here I must also note that this bird metaphor and seeking of freedom is a potential callback as well to Gnosis once more, as he also receives similar imagery in his EP and his oprec.)

And as Tenzin takes off, we know that Enciodes will soon take off as well, perhaps inspired in turn: the greatest changes to his character and person, not to mention the beginning of his practical experience and the true real foundation of his great endeavor, began when he departed the "warm room" of Kjerag and went to Victoria. As Tenzin learns to fly once more, Enciodes too will also learn to fly.

Reading the module, it's abundantly clear now why Enciodes is accompanied by Tenzin at almost every turn. Not only does he love Tenzin so much, he's cared for Tenzin since Tenzin was a little chick, and Tenzin chooses to go with him wherever he goes. (Similarly, I think I can say my headcanon of Enciodes lovingly choosing Tenzin's bandanas to match his own outfits is more or less confirmed.) They're inseparable companions.

It's also incredibly sweet how reading this, we can see that much as Enciodes hand-raised Tenzin, Tenzin has also watched Enciodes grow up: from a frustrated child into the powerful adult he is today, listening to his thoughts and secret worries all the while, at many instances being his sole comfort and confidante. I'd like to think that Tenzin harbors just as much affection for Enciodes as he must hold for it...

#arknights #silverash #tenzin #my essays #arknights essay

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thedovesaredying · 8 months ago

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Flames of Green | CoD x GoT/HotD | Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader x John "Soap" MacTavish | Part 1.

Artwork by Elizabeth

You're the heir to the Iron Throne, the eldest child of the current king with the blood of the Targaryens flowing through your veins. Unfortunately, you're due to be married off to a mysterious Northern lord by the name of John MacTavish. At least your closest friend and member of your guard, Simon Riley, will be by your side throughout it all.

A/N: I'm back in my House of the Dragon era, so I'm mixing hyperfixations. The Cannibal doesn't get enough love, he's a nasty bastard and he deserves to cause some chaos. It will eventually be a Ghost x Reader x Soap relationship and likely a bit of a slowburn. Literally just for my own entertainment, but I hope y'all enjoy.

Warnings: None

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

It’s times like this that you mourn the loss of your youth. Forced to sit in silence while discussions are held by old men around a table, weighing up the advantages and disadvantages of your future marriage to every potential high lord in Westeros. Your opinion is never considered, let alone asked for by any of your father’s advisors, your compliance expected regardless.

If you had been born a man you could have your pick of any woman in the kingdom to take as a wife, but instead, you’re forced to simply accept whatever man is placed in front of you. Such is the burden of being the princess and heir to House Targaryen. You will be made to give up the right to rule the kingdom to the high lord assigned to you, never to touch the ever-elusive Iron Throne that should have been yours by right.

You had never really taken the prospect of marriage too seriously in your youth, always considering it a problem for the you of the future to deal with. You didn’t care to forge lasting alliances with other ladies and lords, too busy dragging your poor best friend, Simon, through the gardens and dirtying your extravagant dresses.

But those days were over.

Talk of wedding a powerful lord and bringing forth the next line of Targaryen children is all that fills your ears now. You’re forced to entertain every man, young and old, that wishes to gain your favour with a polite smile and feigned interest. You don’t even have your dear Simon to offer you his companionship and a break from the cruel realities of the world. No doubt he would have entertained you with his dry remarks about each man set before you.

It has been years since you last saw Simon. He was taken from the Red Keep by his father and sent to squire for another lord in the hopes of teaching him the art of warfare. Lord Riley was a foul man, constantly berating his son for spending his time with the Princess rather than roughhousing with his fellow boys. He considered the boy too soft and squeamish at the sight of blood to make a good future lord of their keep.

You disagreed, of course, Simon was perfect just the way he was; gentle and kind to all those around him. Your friend couldn’t hurt a fly, but he was still one of the bravest people you knew.

You dread to think just how much he would have hated being drawn into battles, forced to kill other men with his own hands. The letters he occasionally wrote to you always steered clear of depicting the violence you were certain he must have been subjected to, but you’re far from naive enough to hope he has yet to participate in any bloodshed. As the years dragged on, word from him has grown scarce, however, to the point where you can hardly remember when you heard from him last.

What you do know, is that he had been sent to offer assistance in maintaining peace throughout the Stepstones, killing raiders and pirates that would endanger trade routes to King’s Landing.

But that was almost six months ago, and there has been little else to soothe your vexed nerves over his safety. He had made a promise to you the day he left, that once his training was done he would return to your side, this time as a knight who would offer himself to your Queen’s Guard once the time was right. Never again would he leave you, more than happy to forfeit the ruling of his own homeland if it meant he could keep you safe.

You had clung to that promise every day for years after his departure, but with each passing moment it become harder to hold out hope of seeing him again. After all, what is one promise between children in the grand scheme of things?

It’s a blessing when you’re finally relieved from the meeting, escaping from the suffocating air within the council chambers and fleeing to the safety of your room. You don’t even pause to ensure one of your guards is following you, getting straight to stripping from your dress and replacing it with your riding gear.

As the carriage carries you away from the city and toward the Dragon Pit your nerves begin to settle. The constant odour of sweat and excrement quickly gives way to fresh air the further away you get. It’s a beautiful day, with hardly a cloud in the sky and wildflowers blooming all along the road. It’s a genuine shame that your day has started so poorly, otherwise you’d have loved to wander the palace gardens and enjoy the midday sun.

The ground is rocky outside of the dragon pit, and you’re jostled around a bit until the carriage comes to a stop. Although this is your destination, the dragon you seek is not here. Your dragon is far too large to be housed within the Pit.

Unlike your younger sister, you were not blessed by the Gods to have your dragon egg hatch while you were in the cradle. All throughout your childhood you sat next to it and prayed for the hatchling to come forth, promising you would care for the creature and love it more than anything. But the baby dragon never arrived.

Many said that it was a sign from the Gods, that you were unfit to be the heir if even your own dragon refused to hatch for you. It was a heavy sentence hanging around your neck, weighing you down and making you feel as though you are worthless, despite the fact you have more power than most of the people laughing at your situation.

None of them are laughing now.

You see your dragon stretched out atop one of the nearby ridges. He’s so large that his wings and tail drape over the edge of the rocks, entirely unconcerned by the humans fearfully gathered beneath him as he snoozes away in the warmth of the sun. His scales are like coal, absorbing every ray of sunshine that he can.

The Cannibal may not be as large as Vhagar, but he’s far older and, as many would argue, far meaner than the old girl. Where most dragons have vibrant, golden eyes, you’re greeted by a pair of sinister green the moment you draw near. His go-to reaction to most things is aggression, and you’ve seen many people meet their end in a blast of emerald flame for merely disturbing him.

It’s for that precise reason you’re stunned to see someone standing beside the grumpy old beast. There’s only one person other than yourself who could get anywhere near the Cannibal without immediately being swallowed whole. The man pauses his rubbing of your dragon’s scales the moment he sees you, only to earn a displeased whack from the Cannibal’s snout. You bite your lip to force down the grin that’s threatening to spread across your face when the man drops down to one knee, his head bowed respectfully.

“Lord Riley,” you nod, “I do believe that’s my dragon you’re touching.” That earns a groan from the Cannibal, his massive head twisting away from you both, as though already bored of the conversation.

“A thousand apologies, princess,” Simon grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth, “your dragon was growing impatient.” The dragon in question huffs, his tail twitching like an agitated cat.

Simon looks so different from the last time you saw him. He’s both taller and broader, completely filled out with muscles. When he stands again, you’re face to face with the rather intimidating bone mask adorning his face. You’re not certain if it’s real bone, but at that moment you could have cared less, throwing yourself at the large man.

He catches you easily, holding you tightly against his larger body. It’s entirely improper and if anyone other than your guards witnessed such an interaction there would no doubt be whispers abound. Perhaps it’s a good thing Simon decided to meet you somewhere so private.

“When did you get back?” you ask, leaning back just long enough to look him in the eye.

“We docked late last night,” he answers, and you can feel the way his chest rumbles with each word. His deep voice soothes something within you, your stress dissipating like mist at dawn. “We received word that the King’s Guard now has an open position,” he continues, and then much to your shock adds, “I’m here to fill that position.”

You pull away from him almost completely, only your hands still gently curled around his gauntlets, “but I heard that your father was recently taken ill, don’t you need to return home?”

While the mask hides the majority of Simon’s face, you can still see the way the skin around his eyes crinkles slightly, “I made a promise to serve my future Queen,” he takes your hand from his arm and presses the back of your palm to where his lips are beneath his mask, “if you’ll have me, princess.”

You can feel your face burning with the intensity with which Simon stares at you. “I’m certain my father will be delighted to have such a well-regarded warrior in his service,” you smile, gently pulling your hands away from the knight, despite the urge to keep holding onto him.

Before you can continue the conversation, the Cannibal turns his head back to your again, nudging at you with an irritated huff. His breath is scalding against your skin, yet it doesn’t burn you, thankfully. You place your hand against the beast’s snout, feeling the thick scales shift under your leather gloves. “Gīda,” you coo to the dragon, waiting until he lowers his wing to the floor to provide you with a way to climb onto his back. He’s far too large for you to mount the same way you would a younger dragon.

Once settling into the Cannibal’s saddle, you grin down at your friend, “I look forward to seeing you in the keep, my lord.” You only have the time to see Simon’s quick nod, before your dragon is leaping from the edge of the ridge, forcing an end to your conversation. You can feel his clear exasperation through your bond and ensure to give the old dragon a scratch to the neck.

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #reader insert #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #game of thrones #house of the dragon #crossover

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major-wren · 1 year ago

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I love the "ARK siblings" concept and I love cute lighthearted fanart of them being siblings but I feel like a lot of people forget that they literally canonically share a soul and that her death is, in my opinion, I think supposed to represent a part of one's self dying and that they're supposed to be, symbolically, a lot more than siblings.

I always saw Shadow's story as a symbolic way to express the way your inner child and innocence is sacrificed in order to survive complex childhood trauma. Maria's color scheme and the way she's written is, I think, clear to all of us how she's meant to represent innocence and youth. I mean, she doesn't really function very well as a stand-alone character or realistic depiction of a child, shes always been more of an.. idea.

I'm not sure if it was purposeful, but the moon's "Maria" are craters that formed from the moon repeatedly taking the hits of asteroids at it's points of gravity. These points of gravity attract asteroids and draws then away from the Earth. The craters are mostly on the side of the moon we see, so the dark side of the moon, or "shadowed" side is better protected because of that. I feel like this is an extension of Shadow and Maria's symbolism. She took the bullet for him, protecting him, the same way Maria takes the comets, and the same way your brain will sacrifice your inner child (or freeze/rush your mental development) in order to survive intense childhood abuse. I know it all sounds extreme lmao but at the end of the day characters and storytelling are used to explore and express hard emotions and I don't think this randomly tragic character sprung out of nowhere for the Sonic games, which, before that point, always had very lighthearted positive characters (except for the echidna extinction in the game right before Shadow's). Having a character that was easy to approach, yet could represent scarier concepts as a child-friendly stand-in, felt like a very important tool to me growing up. I just hope that that writing can be appreciated in his character, with an understanding of how messy production can be and how a character can get pulled between many different people and ideas. I do think this symbolism was intentional to some degree, especially when it gets to the blatant soul-sharing and how characters insist that Shadow can't be a weapon because Maria's soul (his inner child and true morals despite the damage done to him) makes him "good hearted."

There's other things that uphold this symbolism of Maria dying as representing his inner child being killed, like the rushed/suspended mental development in the face of trauma being illustrated by the fact that Shadow was forced into a dormant cyro slumber right after Maria's death, symbolizing the way he had to basically skip childhood or hit pause on development until he could escape the people controlling him. Much like how victims will have to pause everything and go on autopilot with only a goal of survival until they can escape their situation; only after they feel safe can they begin growing as a person and find their identity. In the Japanese language, there are different types of pronouns people can refer to themselves with instead of just "I" or "myself." In the Japanese dub of SA2, Shadow's creator said in an interview that he had been very insistent on Shadow using the pronouns reserved for young boys, despite Shadow's menacing villain role in the game, because he felt it was important to show Shadow's purity and his lack of experience in life so far. That "live and learn" theme.

And then in his self titled game, Shadow is searching for a way to reconnect with his past and to find the truth about this Maria person he keeps seeing in flashbacks, but in the end he throws away her picture and accepts himself as he is now, forever changed and stained by his past, but more than just a product of his situation. He is "all of him," including the negative impact he never asked for, and including the parts of himself he lost, but also the parts of himself he chose to become. Your environment and childhood shapes you even if you didn't want it to, but that doesnt mean you cant have control in your identity and recover your inherent nature once you've escaped the negative influence (nature vs nurture theme). He will never be the person he used to be, or could have been, (represented by Maria as a pure and untouched youth), but he still has a say in what that grows into.

I just feel like a lot of Shadow's identity issues and inner conflict stem from this whole soul sharing situation with Maria and that his character ends up inevitably being misunderstood if you water them down to just siblings. Especially considering that it was never answered if Shadow actually even ever met Maria or if they're just memories planted by Gerald or caused by the shared soul. In Sonic Battle, it's also said in Gerald's diary that not only do Maria and Shadow share identical souls, but that Gerald literally modeled Shadow after Maria out of his love for her. I'm not sure to what degree or in what ways, but Shadow is supposed to share purposeful similarities with Maria, likely through the content of her character and her morals. That's what makes them so much deeper than just psuedo siblings, he's not only made for her, but designed after her too. It can't really be compared to, for example, Sonic and Tails.

I also think its what makes Shadow's character so substantial and meaningful. His self titled game's entire theme was purity, morals, what is good and bad. This question of purity and morality spreads into his appearances in other stories too- This question that, if you were badly hurt in your youth and shaped by evil- does that leave you impure? Stained? Destined to continue that cycle of harm and cruelty? I think these insecurities feel very real and relatable, and that it's even more realistic that despite these insecurities, that hurt and damage is actually what fuels him to protect others. Just as he said in Sonic Battle, "There's no need to repeat past tragedies! Nobody else ever needs to go through the things that I have!"

Statistically (despite media portrayal) abuse victims RARELY become abusers, because they understand the pain on a deeper level and can't bring themselves to force someone else into experiencing that same pain, knowing the permanent damage it causes. However, childhood abuse leaves people socially stunted and conditioned to harshness, which causes them to accidentally hurt others without meaning to. Or they end up hurting people out of desperation if they feel endangered (like Shadow's "means to an end" approach where he'll prioritize violence if it means reducing the end-impact). Also, they are more susceptible to being abused again after escaping the first abuser, because they are so susceptible to manipulation- Just like how whenever Shadow does switch sides, its usually because someone manipulated him into it or literally brainwashed him. I think Shadow conveys all of this so well, and that Maria's true role is an integral part of it all that can't be ignored or misunderstood, or else Shadow ends up reading as unnecessarily violent or overly obsessed with her when you interpret her as just a sister-figure that he knew for... who knows how few years.

I think this symbolism runs deep with his writing. Just like Maria's meant to be that inherent purity and inner child, I think the black arms DNA is that stain that abuse or trauma can leave on you, that causes you to act out or feel like you're always holding back and trying to keep control over some darker part of yourself that was left behind in the damage done. Especially since they literally have a mind link with Shadow. In the Sonic Universe comic, they succeed in brainwashing Shadow and turn him against his friends. These mind-links, soul-sharing, and brain-washing from both Gerald and the black arms... To disregard the fact that he's deeply connected to these people on a metaphysical, identity altering level is to water down his character and leave it feeling as though his motives are too weak to justify his harsh actions. I've seen people poke fun at his amnesia or insecurity in his identity, as though his confusion isn't justified, and I think it's because people don't realize he has these... literal fragments of other people inside of him, that that's pretty much what he's made of, kind of franken-steined together between a little girl's hopes and morals, an alien race's hivemind greed, a weapon-hungry government and a revenge maddened scientist's painful grief, and even the chaos emeralds which we all know are spiritually whacky and potentially connected to another alien race's memories and energies (the ancients from sonic frontiers). With all of that going on, plus some amnesia mixed in and his memories having been altered by Gerald- I mean.. you'd be searching for the "truth" of your identity too, who you really are. And of course, prone to frustration and aggression, or even a "wish-washy inconsistency." I think there's always a constant tug of war inside of him and that his whole development was a game of tug of war between Gerald, G.U.N and the black arms too. "Am I a cure, am I a death-bringer, am I earth's protector, am I it's destroyer," etc etc

Idk I just think a lot of problems people have with Shadow's writing stems from not realizing how deep things go and what they symbolize. Not to say that something like his boom characterization is of good quality or anything, but I think it's unfair to call him inconsistent when a confusion in his own identity and purpose/goals is kind of the point. And I think people not realizing Maria's deeper, physiological connection to him and influence might be part of the problem.

#major mumbles #shadow the hedgehog #ark siblings #maria robotnik #gerald robotnik #sonic the hedgehog #sth #shth #sonic adventure 2 #shadow the hedgehog headcanon #sonic headcanon #sonic analysis

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yamayuandadu · 1 year ago

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Demon king, demigod, drunkard, dōji: exploring the archetypal oni, from Ōeyama to Lotus Eaters

By popular demand, I wrote an article covering the background of Shuten Dōji and his underlings, and how it influenced Suika’s character and the idea of the Four Devas of the Mountain in Touhou. It was initially scheduled for last month, but I’ve experienced unplanned delays. Read on to learn if you want to learn what Suika has to do with Yamata no Orochi and Mara, if it’s true that oni never lie, and more. I will also explain why making your own fourth Deva of the Mountain is entirely fair game and anyone telling you otherwise is wrong about the source material which inspired ZUN. The article contains some spoilers for WaHH and a number of other Touhou installments, so proceed with caution if that might be an issue for you.

Ōeyama, or Shuten Dōji: origins

Shuten Dōji, as depicted by Sekien Toriyama in Konjaku Gazu Zoku Hyakki (wikimedia commons)

It perhaps seems a bit silly to start this article with an inquiry into the identity of Shuten Dōji (酒呑童子, “wine-loving youth” or something along these lines). After all, while Touhou characters are often based on obscure figures, Suika is hardly an example of that category. Shuten Dōji is arguably THE archetypal oni, known even to people with limited familiarity with Japanese mythology and folklore. And yet, the matter is nowhere near as clear cut as it might seem at first glance. From a certain point of view, Shuten Dōji might not even exactly be an oni, strictly speaking. A book from Nara simply titled Ōeyama ("Mt. Ōe") offers a detailed account of Shuten Dōji’s origin. His father was not a man or a demon, but rather a mountain god, Ibuki Daimyōjin (伊吹大明神). That’s not all, though - according to a local belief, Ibuki Daimyōjin was actually Yamata no Orochi. How does that even work? Contrary to the more widespread tradition, the inhabitants of the area around Mt. Ibuki from the Muromachi period onward believed that Orochi survived his confrontation with Susanoo and hid in the mountains. That’s actually not even the most unusual variant tradition about Orochi. A widespread belief through the middle ages was that he eventually managed to redeem himself, becoming a divine dragon (shinryū, 神龍) residing in the dragon palace under the sea. In that capacity, he was sometimes associated with emperor Antoku, with the latter even claimed to be his reincarnation, for example in a local legend associated with the Atsuta Shrine, preserved in the noh play Kusanagi. In esoteric Buddhist doctrine Orochi was sometimes perceived as a local manifestation (suijaku) of the buddha Yakushi - much like Susanoo was. Ichijō Kaneyoshi in his Nihon shoki sanso (1455–1457) went into yet another direction, presenting the snake as identical with the naga girl from the Lotus Sutra. Apparently, he specifically means the version of her from Shaku Nihongi… who is identified there as Susanoo’s wife, down to being equated with Kushinadahime (this was not unusual in itself - Susanoo was equated with Gozu Tennō based on similar character, so it was sensible for their wives to be seen as analogous). This effectively created a scenario where Susanoo married his nemesis.

A Japanese depiction of the naga girl offering a jewel to the Buddha, as described in the Lotus Sutra (wikimedia commons)

Anyway, back to Shuten Dōji. According to Ōeyama, Ibuki Daimyōjin, before he even came to be known under this name, fell in love with the daughter of a local feudal lord, Sugawa. He started visiting her at night and she as a result eventually became pregnant. The identity of the visitor was unknown to her father, and out of frustration and fear that nefarious supernatural forces might be involved he eventually contacted various religious officials to perform exorcisms. Needless to say, Ibuki Daimyōjin was less than thrilled, and decided to display his divine wrath through rather conventional means: Sugawa was struck by illness. He once again summoned various Buddhist monks and onmyoji, this time to attempt to heal him. They concluded that the disease will disappear if the deity who caused it is properly honored, and established formal worship of Ibuki Daimyōjin, which apparently did indeed help. Sugawa’s daughter eventually gave birth to Ibuki Daimyōjin’s child. The child started to cause problems at the age of three: his love of alcohol manifested for the first time, earning him the moniker of Shuten Dōji. By the time he was ten, his misdeeds were too much for his family to bear with and his grandfather decided to send him to Mt. Hiei to become a novice (chigo). The monastic lifestyle didn’t really change much though, and Shuten Dōji continued to drink. Eventually he managed to convince three thousand monks (sic) to drink with him and to join him in an “oni dance” during which everyone put on masks representing demons. The festivities lasted seven days. When Shuten Dōji woke up afterwards, he realized his mask had fused with his face, and he was no longer able to take it off. The other participants fled out of fear of his new form.

Shuten Dōji’s Mt. Hiei career was subsequently cut short by Saichō, the founder of the Tendai school of Buddhism. After learning what happened, he prayed to the buddha Yakushi and to Mt. Hiei’s protective deity Sannō Gongen to banish Shuten Dōji. It's worth pointing out that presenting young Shuten Dōji and Saichō as contemporaries is basically standard, and pops up in multiple legends. There are variants where Kūkai, the founder of Shingon, plays a similar role instead, to. They actually lived some 200 years before the other historical figures who appear in Shuten Dōji narratives, but this is not an oversight. It is a given that a partially divine being would live for much longer than a human.

A Heian period portrait of Saichō (wikimedia commons) As a result of Saichō’s success, Shuten Dōji had to flee. He tried to return to his grandfather’s residence, but this was no longer an option for him. He temporarily hid on Mt. Ibuki, but eventually left for Mt. Ōe, where he finally became a veritable "demon king".

The reason why Shuten Dōji was rejected by his family is that he was recognized as an “oni child” (鬼子, onigo). In the folkloric sense, this term refers to supernatural beings which are nonetheless partially human by birth. Not necessarily part oni, though. Another well known onigo, Sakata no Kintoki, was the son of a yamauba, for instance. However, Yanagita Kunio noted that this term also referred to children born with teeth (a real, though very uncommon phenomenon), who were believed to turn into oni - much like how Shuten Dōji did. He states that especially before the Edo period this lead to cases of child abuse or outright murder. In some cases sending the child to become a member of Buddhist clergy was seen as a remedy. For example, a twelfth century monk named Jōjin in a letter relays that he suggested this to the mother of such a newborn. It is not hard to see that Ōeyama likely consciously references this custom.

The other origin of Shuten Dōji

Yet another tradition is preserved in a variant of the standard Shuten Dōji tale which switches the location of his demise from Mt. Ōe to Mt. Ibuki: here Shuten Dōji is not just any demon, but a manifestation of Mara. As in, the opponent of the Buddha and demon king of the sixth heaven, not some other accidentally similarly named figure.

Mara, as depicted by Hokusai in Shaka-goichidai-zue (wikimedia commons)

It is presumed that this portrayal of Shuten Dōji might be tied to medieval Japanese traditions pertaining to Mara. They might sound unusual today: he was both a “demon king” (魔王) obstructing enlightenment, as expected, but also a jinushi (地主), or “landholder deity”. From the Buddhist point of view, jinushi were ambivalent figures: on one hand, their presence was responsible for bestowing specific locations with holiness. On the other hand, they could resist Buddhism as demonic forces, and had to be subjugated or converted to prevent that. Mara was the ultimate jinushi, the king of the world as a whole. A role already attributed to him in earlier Buddhist sources was basically adjusted for this framework. The jinushi version of Mara originated among proponents of the imperial court and mainstream Buddhist institutions, but it curiously also gained traction among the opponents of these structures. Mara became somewhat of an anti-establishment icon more than once, essentially. A legend links him with (in)famous rebel Taira no Masakado (who you may know from SMT) for this reason.

Masakado, as depicted by Kunichika Toyohara in Sen Taiheiki Gigokuden (wikimedia commons)

Other similar examples are also known. A local legendary figure from the Tsugaru peninsula in modern Aomori prefecture, Tsugaru Andō (津軽安藤), who after a failed rebellion fled to Hokkaido, was proudly described as a vassal of Mara by local officials who claimed descent from him. Prince Sutoku, a banished opponent of emperor Go-Shirakawa, swore a vow to become like Mara. Oda Nobunaga famously referring to himself as the “demon king of the sixth heaven” in a letter to Takeda Shingen is likely another example. Reportedly a related belief that praying to the jinushi version of Mara can spare one from conscription persisted as late as the early 20th century, though generally he belongs to the realm of “medieval myths” which faded with the ascent of a new system of values in the Meiji period, in which the early imperial chronicles were favored. Even though it is largely forgotten today outside of specialized scholarship, there is much more to this Mara tradition. It led to the development of one of my favorite Japanese myths with no popcultural reception, but you will have no wait a few more weeks to learn more. It has been argued that behind the identification of Shuten Dōji and Mara might reflect a historical event of the sort which led to associating the latter with figures such as Masakado. In other words, that Shuten Dōji in this case might be less a demon and more a demonized form of some opponent of imperial or religious authorities.

It has been argued that the Ibuki version was the result of combining an original oral narrative, a precursor of the textual versions we are familiar with today, with the memory of the death of a certain Kashiwabara Yasaburō, a bandit leader, in 1201. It has in fact been argued that even the mt. Ōe version might simply be a particularly fabulous reinterpretation of a punitive mission against bandits robbing and murdering travelers. Such rationalist explanations are not exactly new - Ekken Kaibara already argued in the Edo period that the legend of Shuten Dōji must have been the reflection of the downfall of a real bandit who perhaps wore the mask of an oni while committing robberies.

It’s important to bear in mind to not go overboard with this speculation, though. Ultimately the Mt. Ibuki version has a more pronounced religious character than other variants in general: Shuten Dōji’s nemesis Raikō’s is identified as a manifestation Bishamonten or Daiitoku Myōō (in the latter case, Bishamonten and the three other heavenly kings correspond to his four retainers), emperor Ichijō with Miroku (Maitreya), and Abe no Seimei, who plays a minor role in vanquishing the demon, with Kannon. These equations reflect the idea of honji, or “true nature” of Buddhist figures, who were believed to take various guises through history to help people reach nirvana, for example these of local deities or historical figures. The best known example of application of this doctrine in Japanese Buddhism is obviously the historical phenomenon of honji suijaku, which was focused specifically on kami.

A Kasuga mandala representing the correspondences between Buddhist figures and local kami (source; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

The legend of Shuten Dōji

Regardless of which mountain is identified as the residence of oni, and of whether the dramatis personae are identified with Buddhist figures or not, the plot of the various versions of the legend of Shuten Dōji surprisingly does not vary all that much. While it is reasonably well known, I figured it won’t hurt to summarize it here anyway, especially since the information above should make it possible to view it from many new angles.

The oldest surviving version, Ōeyama Ekotoba (“Illustrations and Writing of Mt. Ōe”), presumably based on preexisting oral sources, comes from the fourteenth century, specifically from the Nanbokuchō period. However, the story only reached the peak of its popularity a few centuries later, in the Edo period. This was a part of a broader phenomenon: preexisting tales about warriors matched the sensibilities of the new ruling classes and were kept in circulation by them, but eventually they also became a part of urban popular culture. Many adaptations were produced, including noh plays and ukiyo-e. To put it very colloquially, the heroic warriors and demon quellers from the previous periods became the Edo period counterpart of contemporary superhero media. This is a genuine comparison employed in scholars, for clarity, not a joke. As remarked by Bernard Faure, the most widespread version is basically framed as if it was a tabloid story from the Heian period. In 995, young women (and in some versions men too) disappear whenever a particularly violent storm occurs, and nobody knows how to stop it. Not even the power of Buddhist exorcisms is enough. Seeing as in the portrayed time period that was pretty much the universal solution to supernatural problems, this is a big deal.

Abe no Seimei (right) in the Fudo Rieki Engi (wikimedia commons) This is a source of distress for a certain official, Ikeda Kunikata (or, in some version, Kunitaka), whose only daughter is among the kidnapped women. He decides to seek the help of the Heian period superstar Abe no Seimei, arguably the most famous onmyoji in history. Alternatively, the expert contacted is a certain Muraoka no Masatoki, who to my best knowledge is a fictional character and doesn’t appear anywhere outside of some variants of this tale. Either way, thanks to this intervention it is possible to identify the culprit as a demonic being residing on Mt. Ōe (or alternatively on Mt. Ibuki). In one of the versions featuring Seimei he specifically identifies him as a tenma (天魔), “heavenly demon” - a term commonly used to refer to tengu (as ZUN does in Touhou) and to servants of Mara (overlapping if not identical categories, really; stay tuned for a future article exploring this). However, onmyoji arts are not enough to stop the crisis; all Seimei can guarantee is that Kunikata’s daughter will survive, but he has no way to confront the demon directly. Kunikata therefore decides to bring the case to the attention of the emperor, Ichijō. He holds a meeting with various ministers, who note that in the past a similar case was solved by Kūkai (recall his already mentioned association with Shuten Dōji). However, there are no monks of equal skill left, so his feat cannot be repeated.

It is then concluded that the only way to end the demon’s reign of terror it is to send the strongest warrior they were aware of, Minamoto no Yorimitsu (Raikō) and his four retainers, Watanabe no Tsuna, Sakata no Kintoki, Taira no Suetake, and Tairi no Sadamitsu, on a mission to kill him. Raikō is also assisted by Fujiwara no Yasumasa (Hōshō) and his anonymous attendant, but these two never gained much prominence as characters in this narrative. Additionally, in some versions other figures from the same period - Taira no Muneyori, Minamoto no Yorinobu (Raikō’s younger brother) and Taira no Korehira - are namedropped as potential candidates considered by the emperor, but they all reportedly decline to partake out of fear.

Raikō and Kintoki, as depicted by Yoshitoshi Tsukioka (wikimedia commons)

Preparations started with prayers in Sumiyoshi, Kumano, Kasuga and, in some versions, Hie shrines. They did not go unanswered. Raikō and his retainers subsequently encounter a group of shugenja (mountain ascetics) who turn out to be the manifestations of the deities they paid honor to: Sumiyoshi Myōjin, Kumano Nachi Gongen, Hachiman (here addressed as a bodhisattva) and, if the Hie shrine is included in a given version, Sannō Gongen. They explained that to safely enter the fortress of Shuten Dōji, Raikō and his men must disguise themselves as shugenja (that’s because the legendary first shugenja, En no Gyōja, famously had an entourage of demons). They also provide him with supernatural wine. They state the oni will inevitably drink it due to their fondness of alcohol, only to end up poisoned as a result. In some versions they vanish afterwards, but in others they continue to accompany Raikō. The protagonists then encounter a woman washing blood stained clothes. In some versions she is described as elderly, and states she has lived for 200 years as a servant of Shuten Dōji. In the most widespread Edo period version, she is young and says she was only kidnapped a year earlier, though.

Encounter with the woman washing bloody clothes (NYPL Digital Collections) Regardless of her age, she reveals some additional information about Shuten Dōji, though that also varies depending on the version. In some, she explains that he looks like a human during the day, but takes the form of an oni at night. His human form is specifically that of a dōji, literally “child”, but we’ll get back to the full context of this term later. In any case, I think it's safe to say the shape and size changing is where Suika'a ability came from. In another variant, the woman warns the heroes that Shuten Dōji is enraged by Abe no Seimei’s actions, as the onymoji apparently figured out in the meanwhile how to keep the people of Kyoto safe by employing a number of shikigami (a standard part of his repertoire). There are no further stops on the journey, and shortly after the encounter with the woman of variable age Raikō and his men enter the mountainous land of the oni. Especially in the older versions, it’s a place completely out of this world, with all four seasons occurring at once. Once they enter the fortress located there, they instantly encounter Shuten Dōji… and ask him for a place to stay for the night.

Distinctly human-like Shuten Dōji, as depicted by Yoshitoshi Tsukioka in One Hundred Ghost Stories from China and Japan (LACMA; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

Rather unexpectedly, he instantly agrees. He then tells them about his past; this largely a shorter version of the legend already discussed earlier, though with nothing predating the Mt. Hiei section mentioned. We also get a specific date for his arrival on Mt. Ōe, 849. This doesn’t last long, though, and soon he invites the protagonists to partake in a feast with him. This is obviously not a regular party, and while the individual versions can be more or less graphic, it is clear that the oni are consuing the flesh and blood of their captives. Despite various horrific sights, Raikō maintains composure. He uses the opportunity the feast presents him with to offer Shuten Dōji the sake he received from the three (or four) deities earlier. As expected, Shuten Dōji gets drunk, and leaves to rest in his chamber.

The other oni continue to party. In some versions, some of them try to approach the protagonists by disguising themselves either as a group of courtly ladies or as a dengaku troupe, but Raikō’s glare is so intense they quickly relent. Eventually all of the oni give up on attempting to engage with the alleged ascetics and end up drunk. That’s when the heroes decide to free their captives. These obviously include the women from Kyoto. However, as it turns out, Shuten Dōji’s rampages actually extended beyond Japan, to India and China, though only captives from the latter area actually appear. Multiple versions additionally mention that one of the prisoners was a young acolyte of the Tendai abbot Ryōgen, who was protected by assorted deities. This doesn’t really come into play in any meaningful way, though. Once everyone is freed, the heroes draw their weapons and enter Shuten Dōji’s chamber.

Sleeping Shuten Dōji (National Museum of Asian Art; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

The protagonists finally witness Shuten Dōji's oni form. He is five jō (around fifteen meters) tall, has fifteen eyes and five horns. His head and torso are red, his right arm is yellow, his left arm is blue, his right leg is white and his left leg is black. This might be a reference to the five elements. Alternatively, he could be described as entirely red, which might either be yet another way to reference his love of alcohol, as in the case of the shōjō, or an indication he was comparable to a “plague deity” (疫神, ekijin). The manifestations of the deities from earlier show up again, this time to hold Shuten Dōji in place so that Raikō can strike. He cuts off his head, but to his shock it rises into the air and starts talking.

Confrontation between the heroes and the floating head of , as depicted by Yoshitsuya Utagawa (wikimedia commons)

Shuten Dōji actually mocks the heroes: “How sad, you priests! You said you do not lie. There is nothing false in the words of demons.” Needless to say, his final words are pretty directly referenced in Touhou. Oni, at the very least, claim they do not lie. Mileage of course varies, though. ZUN is not the only author drawn to this element of the legend. It would appear that even the Japan Oni Cultural Museum has advertised itself with the words “there is nothing false in the words of demons” in the past. As noted by Noriko T. Reider, emphasizing this apparent honesty (or naivete) sometimes serves as a way to make oni sympathetic or even relatable for modern audiences. However, it's worth noting that in the noh version, Raikō pushes back against Shuten Dōji’s words, and points out even the claim oni do not lie is a lie. He has a point, considering some versions outright establish oni capture their victims by disguising themselves as people close to them, imitating their voices. It probably also should be pointed out that in Konjaku Monogatari, oni are said to be scary precisely because they can tell apart right and wrong.

Anyway, oni ethics aside, it turns out that to kill Shuten Dōji for good, one has to gouge out his eyes. Once that is accomplished, Raikō's mission is finally complete. After killing the other oni, the protagonists take the head with them to Kyoto. Obviously, they also take the freed captives with them. The young women return to their families, and the Chinese men head for the coast to find a ship which could take them home. They promise to let the emperor (the Chinese one, for clarity; that would be Zhenzong of Song in 995) about Raikō's heroism. In the versions where the woman washing clothes was elderly, rather than simply one of the young captives, on the way back the protagonists learn that she has passed away in the meanwhile, since her lifespan was unnaturally extended by Shuten Dōji. Once he died, so did she.

Transport of Shuten Dōji's head to Kyoto (NYPL Digital Collections)

Before the head can enter the capital, a purification ritual has been performed. Abe no Seimei thankfully knows how to do that. Thanks to him, all the relevant authorities can examine it. The emperor decides it will be best to store it in the treasure house of Uji. This location pops up in multiple legends. The severed heads of the two other equally famous malign entities, Ōtakemaru and Tamamo no Mae, were also stored there according to legends focused on them, in addition to various Buddhist relics and mundane treasures. In an alternate version, the head never reaches the imperial court. Raikō and his retainers encounter the bodhisattva Jizou, who tells them it is too impure to be shown to the emperor, and suggests burying it. The location selected, a hill on the northwestern limits of the city, came to be known as Kubizuka (首塚), literally “head tumulus”. Shuten Dōji actually came to be enshrined there as Kubizuka Daimyōjin (首塚大明神), and in this divine guise developed an association with learning and ailments of the head.

The Kubizuka shrine in 2019 (wikimedia commons)

There is yet another variant tradition about the final fate of Shuten Dōji: after his death he became a vengeful spirit, and then turned into a tsuchigumo, just to be defeated by Raikō and his retainer Tsuna for a second time.

Raikō and Tsuna battling tsuchigumo, as depicted in Tsuchigumo no Sōshi Emaki (wikimedia commons)

Interestingly, it has been argued the tale of Shuten Dōji was at least in part based on that of the tsuchigumo Kugamimi no Mikasa (陸耳御笠), who resided on Mt. Ōe according to Tango Fudoki Zanketsu (丹後風土記残欠). The tale is not preserved fully, though, so all we know for sure other than the location is that the hero opposing him was Hikoimasu no Miko (日子坐王), a stepbrother of emperor Sujin (he is also attested in other sources). A second tsuchigumo, Hikime (匹女) is successfully defeated, but the fate of Mikasa is left unspecified in the surviving sections. This obviously makes further comparisons difficult. The topic of tsuchigumo cannot be dealt with here due to space constraints, but I promise I will return to it in a future article.

The supporting cast of Shuten Dōji

Shuten Dōji in his human form and his oni henchmen (NYPL Digital Collections)

Something that requires further discussion is the matter of the underlings of Shuten Dōji, since it is a topic directly relevant to Touhou. You might have noticed I actually avoided referencing them in any meaningful capacity in the summary of the legend. That’s because they actually do not play a major role. There also wasn’t any consistent view regarding their number or names. However, the version which came to be standard in the Edo period lists four of them - an obvious mirror of Raikō and his entourage. As a matter of fact, both groups even share the same moniker, Four Heavenly Kings.

This idea predates the Edo period, though. An earlier variant based on picture scrolls created by Kanō Motonobu already lists four servants of Shuten Dōji: Gogō, Kiriō, Ahō, and Rasetsu (yes, an oni named Rakshasa). However, two additional oni at his service are also listed, Kanakuma Dōji and Ishikuma Dōji. They are described as his personal guards, and as, well, dōji. It is clear the term is used in a literal sense here - they are said to look like “overgrown adolescents”. Two different subordinates are mentioned in another picture scroll: Kirinmugoku (麒麟無極) and Jakengokudai (邪見極大). However, they do not receive any characterization, or even physically appear in the narrative. Shuten Dōji shouts their names when he is about to die, and the very assumption that he’s referring to his oni subordinates is conjectural. The same version states that there were at least ten oni in the fortress so it’s not like it’s an implausible assumption.

The group of four oni returns in the standard Edo period version, where their names are Hoshikuma (“Star-bear”) Dōji, Kuma (“Bear”) Dōji, Torakuma (“Tiger-bear”) Dōji and Kane (“Iron”) Dōji. There’s also a fifth oni who is not a member of the group of 4, but shares the same naming pattern, Ishikuma Dōji. He actually gets a handful of lines, though they do not really provide him with much of a character beyond establishing he likes sake, that he eats humans, and that he is loyal to Shuten Dōji. Kane Dōji also gets a single line… explicitly alongside Ishikuma and multiple other nameless oni, though, and it boils down to announcing they will go down fighting because without their leader they no longer have a place to go.

Defeat of the oni (NYPL Digital Collections)

Ibaraki Dōji: Shuten Dōji’s only equal?

Watanabe no Tsuna battling Ibaraki Dōji (wikimedia commons)

A further unique case is that of Ibaraki Dōji, who actually acquired some fame as an individual character, and today is sometimes cited as an example of an oni equally archetypal as Shuten Dōji. Despite being portrayed as a close associate of Shuten Dōji, Ibaraki Dōji to my best knowledge isn’t counted among the Four Heavenly Kings in any version. The character of the connection is evidently more nebulous. I know an assertion that a tradition presenting Ibaraki Dōji as Shuten Dōji’s wife is attested is repeated as fact on wikipedia and various at least semi-credible websites, but there is never a citation provided, and no version of the narrative covered in articles and monographs I have access to includes such an element. I am not claiming it is impossible, though I do feel the fact it doesn’t come up in any paper or monograph discussing either figure I have access to doesn’t mention to might indicate it’s either a recent reinterpretation or a very obscure local variant. Note this is not meant to be an argument against any Touhou ships. What I can say with certainty is that Ibaraki Dōji’s gender is actually a matter of occasional academic dispute. In the versions of the basic Shuten Dōji narrative which mention this oni, he is pretty firmly male. However, he is said to be capable of taking the form of a woman. Noriko T. Reider argues that on this basis it can be effectively assumed that at the very least this specific oni can be considered genderless or capable of freely changing their gender, though she tentatively extrapolates this ability to oni in general. While Ibaraki Dōji’s gender changing adventure is technically its own legend, a reference to it was incorporated into the basic Edo period version of the Shuten Dōji narrative. During the feast, the latter mentions in passing that the former, his trusted ally, lost his arm in a fight with Watanabe no Tsuna during one of their Kyoto raids, after failing to abduct him while disguised as a woman. He clarifies that the arm was later recovered, but not particularly many details are provided. The rivalry between Tsuna and Ibaraki Dōji subsequently comes into play after Shuten Dōji’s death, when the protagonists are about to exterminate the other oni. Ibaraki charges him and they two fight without a clear winner for a while, until Raikō intervenes and kills the oni. I would argue that despite him being responsible for dealing the killing blow, it is Tsuna who should be considered Ibaraki’s nemesis, though. Interestingly, at some point ZUN considered featuring a character based on him in Wild and Horned Hermit (source). That obviously did not come to pass, though. Tsuna already fights an oni in Heike Tsuruginomaki, and many other variants of the story were written subsequently, with the noh play Rashōmon being the most famous. Curiously, the oldest version makes no reference to Shuten Dōji, and the oni actually resides on Mt. Atago, but by the Edo period the two were regarded as allies operating from Mt. Ōe. The details are otherwise generally similar across all of the sources. Raikō sends Tsuna on an errand. He encounters a woman on the Modoribashi Bridge in Kyoto, but as soon as he offers to take her with him she turns into an oni. Thinking quickly, he cuts off the creature’s arm, which is enough to make them flee. He keeps the severed limb as a trophy. Some time later, he is visited by an old woman who he assumes is his aunt... but who turns out to be the same oni, who uses a brief moment of confusion to recover the arm and fly away.

Transformed Ibaraki Dōji, as depicted by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi (wikimedia commons)

The legend of Ibaraki Dōji was evidently reasonably popular in the Edo period, and could even be utilized to comedic ends. One example is an Edo period satirical pamphlet, Thousand Arms of Goddess, Julienned: The Secret Recipe of Our Handmade Soup Stock, written by Shiba Zenkō and illustrated by Kitao Masanobu. Here the one-armed Ibaraki Dōji is one of the figures interested in leasing one of the now detached additional arms of the Thousand-Armed Kannon, who has apparently fallen in dire straits (“business slumps are inevitable, even for a Buddha”, comments the narrator, alluding to the financial conditions of the 1780s). As we learn, after making a purchase Ibaraki is disappointed by the lack of hair, and promptly hires a craftsman to add it:

Original translation by Adam L. Kern; reproduced here for educational purposes only. I am not responsible for the typesetting.

In my recent Ten Desires article I’ve already discussed the oni of Rashomon as a character in legends about Yoshika no Miyako, which I won’t repeat here. It will suffice to say that this conflation effectively made Ibaraki a penchant for poetry and fine arts, and that it indirectly put him in the proximity of the pursuit of immortality. Whether this is why ZUN made Ibaraki’s counterpart a wannabe immortal (“hermit”) is difficult to ascertain, but it does not strike me as impossible. The oni of Rashomon actually appears in at least one more legend which similarly portrays him as an enthusiast of the arts, though to my best knowledge this one never came to be reassigned to Ibaraki Dōji. It is centered on a famous biwa player, Minamoto no Hiromasa, who has to resolve the case of mysterious theft of an instrument from the imperial palace. As you can expect, it is revealed to specifically be an exceptional biwa, which bears the name Genjō. Hiromasa surveys the city in hopes of finding it, and eventually hears its distinct tones while passing near the Rashomon gate. He quickly realizes an oni is playing it. He politely asks if he can have it back, since it’s a treasure of the imperial court… and the oni eagerly obeys, thus bringing the story to a happy end. However, we are told Genjō acquired supernatural qualities in the aftermath of the theft, and only played when it felt like it, as if it was a living being. There is a variant which reveals that the oni of Rashomon was in fact the ghost of Genjō’s original maker, a craftsman from India. In this version, Abe no Seimei has to intervene to recover it, and the oni only agrees to return it after being promised a night with a woman he fell in love with who resembles his deceased wife. There is no happy ending here, though, as the woman’s brother convinces her she needs to kill the oni. She fails, and meets such a fate herself instead. It seems that the reader’s sympathy is actually supposed to be with the oni in this case.

Conclusions, or why you should make your own Deva of the Mountain

Obviously, there is nothing novel or clever about stating that the two figures this article is focused on, Shuten Dōji and Ibaraki Dōji, correspond to Suika and Kasen respectively. You can learn that from the official media itself, after all. Funnily enough, it seems this might have been even more blunt, judging from unused ideas for referencing the legend to an even greater degree in WaHH, with the defeat at Mt. Ōe as the explanation why oni reside… well, elsewhere (source). Granted, it would also be a disservice to ZUN to say he only created anime girl versions of the classic oni. He effectively created his own versions of both Shuten and Ibaraki - for every similarity between the irl background I’ve described and Touhou, there is also something brand new. That is part of what makes Touhou compelling, I would argue. Naturally, the fact that the group Kasen and Suika belong to is referred to as the Four Devas of the Mountain shows clear inspiration from the Edo period version of the original legends. However, Suika and Kasen are counted among the four, which is obviously an innovation. Additionally, while Yuugi is naturally named after Hoshikuma Dōji, who you were able to meet earlier, save for the name she is effectively a fully original character. Her ability references the Analects of Confucius, rather than anything directly tied to Shuten Dōji. And, on top of that in all honesty, she has more character than any of the additional oni appearing in the real legends. ZUN, as far as I am concerned, created a more than worthy addition to the classics. What about the much discussed fourth deva? I think it’s safe to say that in the light of the discussed material there simply isn’t a single most plausible option. As I stressed already, there’s no consistent group of oni appearing alongside Shuten Dōji, and it cannot be said that the Edo period version is clearly what should be treated as true in Touhou. ZUN picked what he liked from many versions. For what it’s worth, so far all of the oni forming the Four Devas are based on those who share the moniker of dōji, so that’s the closest we have to a theme. As I already said earlier, this term can be simply translated as “child” (or “lad”, though I think a gender neutral option is more apt since we are talking about Touhou here, ultimately). However, it has a more specific meaning when applied to supernatural beings. In this context it refers to a category of ambiguous figures characterized by “vitality, (...) hubris, and (...) unpredictability”, as well as fondness of violence, as summarized by Bernard Faure. Shuten Dōji, and by extension his underlings, are obviously the dōji par excellence. However, the term could also be applied to benevolent, or outright divine beings. That, however, goes beyond the scope of this article. I personally think despite the possible dōji theme the fourth slot will never be filled, ultimately. ZUN likes leaving gaps in established groups - there are types of tengu which were a part of the background for well over a decade, for instance. I think these are left as paths to make ocs with an instant excuse to interact with canon characters. Despite ZUN’s generally pro-fanwork stance I do not think I’ve ever seen anyone make this point. As far as I am concerned, the conclusion is clear: it’s entirely fair game to invent characters to fill the empty spot. There’s even a solid case to be made for reinventing oni from other legends as members of the Four Devas - remember that much of Ibaraki Dōji’s character was borrowed from a nameless oni from a legend about the Rashomon gate, as I discussed last month.

Bibliography

Bernard Faure, Rage and Ravage (Gods of Medieval Japan vol. 3)

Michael Daniel Foster, The Book of Yokai. Mysterious Creatures of Japanese Folklore

Adam L. Kern, Thousand Arms of Goddess, Julienned: The Secret Recipe of Our Handmade Soup Stock, written by Shiba Zenkō and illustrated by Kitao Masanobu (translation and commentary), in: An Edo Anthology: Literature from Japan’s Mega-City, 1750–1850

Keller Kimbrough and Haruo Shirane (eds.), Monsters, Animals, and Other Worlds. A Collection of Short Medieval Japanese Tales

Irene H. Lin, The Ideology of Imagination: The Tale of Shuten Dōji as a Kenmon Discourse

Michelle Osterfeld Li, Human of the Heart: Pitiful Oni in Medieval Japan in: The Ashgate Research Companion to Monsters and the Monstrous

Noriko T. Reider, Shuten Dōji: "Drunken Demon"

Idem, Japanese Demon Lore

Idem, Seven Demon Stories from Medieval Japan

also check out the scans of an amazing Shuten Dōji picture scroll from the NYPL collection here!

#touhou #suika ibuki #kasen ibaraki #shuten douji #ibaraki douji

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c-l0wnery · 9 months ago

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Two popular headcanons about Sophia's character suggest she was either a love interest or a big sister/mother figure to P. While both interpretations hold value, I personally believe she served more as a big sister/mother figure to P, and here's why:

Sophia and Geppetto:

One notable difference is their approach to P's transformation into a human. Sophia encourages P's choices, even if they involve lying, recognizing his progress, while Geppetto often demands obedience and no lies from P (I am certain he is well aware that lying is what makes him human), even so that he becomes distressed over the occurrence that P's hair is growing and not knowing how to deal with his metamorphosis of becoming human. Sophia's supportive nature contrasts with Geppetto's rigidity, indicating a maternal influence.

Granting Life:

Both Sophia and Geppetto played roles in giving "life" to P, akin to parental figures bringing a child into the world.

Carlo:

Sophia's long-standing connection with Carlo reveals her nurturing demeanour, which was made clear at black seaside, akin to a big sister comforting him in times of distress. (Yes, I am aware that P and Carlo are in fact not the same person, but I do believe that Carlo has influence on P his actions because Carlo his ergo is infused with his heart, we have seen this with multiple puppets such as, the puppet maid Camille, Romeo The King of puppets and even Sophia when P decides to fuse her ergo with the doll, it did not create an entirely different being, Sophia stayed Sophia because that is what ergo makes possible.) This dynamic parallels her relationship with P, suggesting a maternal influence.

Statue:

The imagery of Sophia cradling P mirrors the Madonna della Pietà (the Blessed Virgin Mother Mary cradling the mortal body of her son Jesus Christ after his Descent from the Cross.), symbolizing her maternal role in P's life, particularly evident in the True ending.

Original Story:

Sophia's multifaceted portrayal in the original Pinocchio story aligns with her nurturing and maternal characteristics, further supporting the big sister/mother figure interpretation.

Appearance:

Sophia's mature demeanour contrasts with P's youthful innocence, emphasizing her role as a guiding figure rather than a romantic interest.

Record Shadow Flower:

While Sophia's record hints at a love story, it is not to be forgotten that Alidoro, brother of Eugénie, gifted his sister a record with a song depicting a love story about a wolf who went an a journey to propose to a girl.

In essence, Sophia embodies the parental guidance that Gepetto fails to provide, making her a more fitting parental figure for P. While the romantic interpretation is valid, viewing Sophia in a nurturing role offers a refreshing perspective, highlighting her depth beyond mere romantic tropes.

#lies of p #pinocchio #sophia monad #lies of p alidoro #lies of p eugenie #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p geppetto

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jubileemon · 9 months ago

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Helluva Boss: The Controversy Around Stella's Character

After "The Circus" premiered, there was a decent amount of controversy regarding her portrayal. There are a decent number of fans who were upset that Stella is portrayed as the bad guy in Stolas' marriage. This is mainly due to people hating Stolas because he cheated, not caring that Stella abused him for their entire marriage and made him miserable. Others aren't as mad, but wish Stella had more personality.

While others aren't as mad, some people wish Stella had more personality. Another group knows that Stella was always evil due to her prior appearances and were expecting something like this.

Stella Goetia's malevolent nature was evident from her youth, as depicted in a disturbing photograph where she is seen strangling her pet dogs. This early sign of cruelty foreshadows the abusive tendencies that manifest in her adult life. If that picture was meant to endear Stolas to the prospect of marrying her, it suggests either that Paimon has no qualms about animal abuse or that said cruelty has become "normalized" in the Goetia household.

As it turns out, Stolas only married Stella because his father Paimon arranged it in the hopes that Stolas would father a powerful new addition to the family. As this episode shows, their marriage was absolutely miserable, to the point that Stella threw parties about how they hadn't divorced yet and talks trash about him to her friends while he's in earshot. While Stella gossips with her friends, she tells them how terrible in bed Stolas was, and how he just blankly stared at the ceiling while she did all of the work. She then gloats how happy she was that at least an egg popped out of her so she didn't have to pretend like she wanted to have sex with Stolas, but all Stolas can do is glower and order something stronger than wine to calm himself.

Special mention to the part where Stella merely refers to Octavia as "an egg", further hinting at the neglectful nature of Stella's relationship to her own daughter at best and viewing her as little more than a necessity to the family at worst.

For many years, she has belittled and humiliated Stolas. As for why Stella's still hanging around the mansion at this point, well, if her behavior at the parties in the past didn't make it clear, she likes to see him suffer. Her admission that she derives pleasure from tormenting her husband reveals her sadistic tendencies. Even when faced with the consequences of her actions, Stella's response is to threaten further aggression and leverage her status to intimidate. Even if their marriage was arranged and he wasn't at all happy, even if he only tried to preserve it for the sake of Octavia's home life, Stolas has had enough and demands a divorce.

Stella's reaction doesn't make it much better. Not only is she more upset about her stung pride than anything else, she takes a vicious satisfaction in pointing out that Stolas has pretty much ruined his own reputation by now, and that he'll be punished for it. She also moves to try to hit Stolas for demanding a divorce and standing up to her, the fact he catches her hand so quickly as she tries to slap him suggests that she likely has physically abused him before. In a drastic escalation of her vindictive behavior, Stella hires an assassin to murder Stolas, showing a callous indifference to the emotional trauma this could inflict on Octavia, especially at a time when father and daughter are mending their relationship.

Stella is also rather single-minded and short-sighted in her efforts to kill Stolas. She was willing to demand Striker to kill him over the phone with both her husband and daughter present at the family’s dinner table, not even being sneaky about it. In "Western Energy", her inability to grasp the consequences of her husband's potential assassination, as pointed out by her brother Andrealphus, suggests a lack of understanding of the ramifications of her actions. This raises questions about her awareness of the inheritance laws in Hell, which would see her daughter Octavia inherit everything, leaving Stella with nothing post-divorce.

Stella's reliance on her brother Andrealphus during critical moments, such as the divorce proceedings and the decision to call off a hit on her husband, indicates a dependency on external guidance for decision-making. Andrealphus appears to be the voice of reason, prompting speculation about whether Stella's actions are driven by emotional impulsivity rather than calculated intent.

Now that we know Stella hates being married to Stolas as much as he hates being married to her, why didn't she signed up for divorce as soon as Octavia was hatched? Stolas endured for the sake of Octavia having a normal life, but for what reason Stella stayed? It couldn't be for the prestige, since Stella using her brother as leverage against Stolas implies it's actually she the one with a higher ranked family. So my theory is that Stella's life was in the line unless she accepted to marry Stolas. Probably her family only saw her as an exchange piece in the game of power, and if she didn't play along until death do her apart from Stolas, it would be her the one to be disposed of.

It will explain why she's just so angry all the time and the reason why she resents, belittles and abuses Stolas: she sees him as the reason of her own imprisonment in this unwanted marriage. And before someone says it's too much of a stretch, remember this is Hell. If she can contract a hitman on her husband within earshot of him and he doesn't bat an eye, who can tell nobles don't dispose of troublesome children that don't fall in line to the family's desires? After all, Paimon has a lot of kids, so the other families might as well; they have plenty of spares.

Stella is a cautionary tale about people being born into privilege who think their status allows them to get away with everything She'll genuinely believe that because she's a denizen of Hell who's born into royalty, Stella can get off with abusing Stolas scot-free.

#helluva boss #stolas #stella #helluva boss analysis #helluva boss stella #helluva boss stolas #stolas and octavia #character analysis #character writing #female villains #villain #female characters #royalty #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #hazbin analysis #double standards

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theycallmeazalea · 7 months ago

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My thoughts #1

Nezha’s age

I’ve noticed something, and it involves an infamous thing about lmk Nezha that everyone in the fandom knows about. His age.

It’s known that Nezha has a mischievous personality in the myths and is also seen as a jokester. Making him sometimes regarded as the god of trickery, even in Buddhist (and I think Hindu) myths as he is said to be a sexual trickster and the god of desire.

Him being the god of trickery intrigues me, and you may ask why does this have anything to do with his age controversy?

Well it’s obvious in the name that tricksters are people who misleads people, who makes someone believe in something so wrong while the truth is so plainly in sight, or causing chaos. As well as joking ofc-

We already saw it with Sun Wukong in lmk, his mocking personality that sets people off. Like a trickster.

But we never saw Nezha acting like a “trickster”, sure you can say that him acting like a sarcastic dick is his trickster god persona showing. But I highly doubt it.

But if you look very closely, or you overthink the whole Nezha age controversy, you realize he never actually had a canonical age in the myths. Only a canonical age range, him being a youth, which means he can either be a literal infant or a young adult. You can say that “being an adult doesn’t make someone youthful”, just a quick google search it says this :

The answer to his age is honestly plainly in sight. But still, what does this have anything to do with his title as the god of trickery in some legends?

Well basically, what I mean by that is : Despite Nezha not being real and only apart of a fictional story, he somehow caused havoc and chaos amongst the lmk fandom by just his age alone (like a trickster) despite it being very clear that the myth Nezha doesn’t have a canonical age, and Lmk Nezha is his own character and is a version of the Myth Nezha, an depiction of the Myth Nezha. It shows how fiction can still affect people’s view and beliefs in the real world.

Also dumb thought : Sun Wukong causes havoc in the show with his mocking personality, but Nezha causes havoc irl with his age. It’s also funny how they share the “god of trickery” title 😭

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk nezha #monkie kid #nezha #lego monkie kid nezha #ne zha lmk #nezha lmk #monkie kid nezha #thoughts #my thoughts

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minhkhoas · 1 year ago

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THE GHOST-MAKER: a deconstruction of his identity

2.2k words | An analysis of the stereotypes & tropes surrounding Minhkhoa Khan

Minhkhoa Khan, also known as the Ghost-Maker, has been a rather significant part of the Batman mythos since his debut in Batman (2016) issue #100. The Ghost-Maker is introduced as the supposed antithesis to Bruce Wayne’s vigilante identity of Batman— he’s described as self-centered, sadistic, and cold, not holding any ounce of empathy for those around him. He kills without remorse, something that sets him apart from his Gotham counterpart, and refers to himself as having been diagnosed as a psychopath at the age of eight.

“Ghost-Maker sees Bruce as a spoiled rich brat. Bruce sees Ghost-Maker as cruel, selfish, and wildly self-important. He is more hedonistic than Batman. He is bisexual, sleeping with anyone that catches his attention. He drinks. He does drugs. He enjoys all the selfish pursuits of life. He is a PSYCHOPATH. He does not experience empathy for other people. He says that that is his strength over Bruce. Ghost-Maker is a vigilante because he enjoys being the best he is at what he does. He is like Sherlock Holmes, caring more about the art of the mystery than the victims of the crime. Ghost-Maker is most concerned with perfecting his craft. Batman is trying to fill an emotional void, and that is why Ghost-Maker sees him destined to fail.”

— James Tynion IV

On paper, it’s clear that Tynion intended for him to serve as a simultaneous ally and enemy to Batman, his allegiance swaying just as his morals do. Tynion describes Minhkhoa as centering his entire crime fighting philosophy around the need to be the best at what he does, which leads him to constantly seek to outdo Batman. The first blatant sign of his involvement in Gotham comes in the form of a message to Batman— one that involves the killing of over a dozen men, a rather brutal way to announce his presence to one of his oldest acquaintances. Whilst Batman discovers the carnage, we see Ghost-Maker complaining in length about the inefficiency of Batman’s work and the overall state of Gotham. He takes a keen interest in Bao Pham, a seventeen-year old boy who’s donned the identity of Clownhunter, a vigilante who takes justice into his own hands by killing those who conspired with the Joker. This, combined with the aforementioned massacre, is the first indication of his personality and overall lack of empathy. He shows no hesitation in his plans to seek out and kill a teenager in order to essentially shock Batman into realizing his efforts are useless.

The extent of his alleged ‘psychopathy,’ as it’s referred to both in-canon and by the creator of Ghost-Maker himself, is further explored following his initial stint in Gotham in the form of a flashback. It is then that readers understand the depth of his and Batman’s relationship; it’s clear that they met in their youth and trained together, only to separate after Minhkhoa’s penchant for killing divided them. Their relationship is once again shown to be competitive, with Minhkhoa and Bruce using physical violence to settle a disagreement. Throughout the altercation, Minhkhoa taunts Bruce and seemingly uses his emotions to his advantage whilst remaining levelheaded. All of these details develop him into a character who finds amusement in violence, and feels little to no guilt at manipulating others.

A shift in Minhkhoa’s depiction arrived with the publication of issue #4 of writer Chip Zdarsky’s Batman: The Knight, a ten-issue storyline following Bruce Wayne as he trained around the world in preparation to become Batman. We see Minhkhoa and Bruce meeting as young teenagers with the shared goal of pursuing crime fighting, journeying together across the world. Their friendship blurs the line between platonic and romantic expression on multiple occasions, with Minhkhoa nearly kissing Bruce at one point during their training. It even extends beyond their time together in the form of one of Bruce’s mentors— Dr. Captio who, incidentally, was training Bruce to overcome physical pain despite him being incapable of overcoming his emotional pain— referring to Minhkhoa as “the little ghost that broke Bruce’s heart” following an argument that caused them to separate and ended in Bruce finding Dr. Captio without Minhkhoa’s help.

The topic of Minhkhoa’s name is another trove of information entirely, as Bruce only discovered his true name after months of traveling with Minhkhoa. Sometime following this discovery, Bruce inevitably begins to use the nickname “Khoa” to refer to him. Whether it was given to him by Bruce or pre-existing is unknown, but he is the first person to refer to Minhkhoa with it, suggesting that he did create it. The notion that Minhkhoa, who’s previously been described as not caring for other people, would allow this is just one of numerous plot points brought up by Zdarsky that slowly chip away at the one-dimensional caricature created by Tynion.

Minhkhoa is a brown, Asian, bisexual man, all of which is established by James Tynion IV throughout Batman (2016). He hails from Singapore, though the multiethnic nature of his name— with ‘Minh’ and ‘Khoa’ being Vietnamese names and ‘Khan’ having roots in South and Central Asia— suggests his ancestry stretches far beyond the city-state. It’s unclear if Tynion intended for Ghost-Maker to be so ethnically ambiguous aside from his clear Asian ancestry, that of which is truly confirmed by Minhkhoa’s appearance on an Asian-American Pacific Islander heritage month variant cover. His racial identity is rarely touched upon, which is simply the start of the slippery slope that becomes the fetishization and exotification of non-white men in Western media.

Minhkhoa is shown to sleep with both men and women in a rather careless manner, using sex as a form of meditation in order to solve crimes and further his own crime fighting agenda. He shows little to no emotional connection with the people he spends his nights with, and is significantly more promiscuous than Batman is. This in itself is a heavy propagation of the idea that bisexual individuals are unable to stay in committed relationships because their lack of single-gender attraction renders them incapable of forming meaningful connections. He appears in DC Comics’ 2023 Pride volume, in which he interacts with Catman— Thomas Blake— and subsequently sleeps with him, thus underlining the common theme of Minhkhoa’s relationships being limited to nothing more than a physical connection. This is emphasized especially when he’s seen leaving bed with both a man and woman by his side, whom he tells to make up grand stories about their time together in order to hyperbolize his feats and create mystery around his life.

His penchant for meaningless flings and physical connection is intrinsically connected to his status as a brown man, a member of a group that tends to be largely fetishized by Western audiences. He is visibly brown/tan when depicted with large portions of skin showing, often in the aftermath of a night of passion, yet he’s whitewashed when presented in other contexts. This pattern deviates in Batman: The Knight where we still see an aspect of sexualization when he’s seen seducing a man far older than him in issue #5, a tactic that could’ve been largely avoided and yet was likely used to emphasize his bisexuality. He is only allowed to be brown when it’s appealing to the audience, when his body is on display, and when he’s not meant to be an esteemed crime fighter.

On another front, his identity as the Ghost-Maker is largely debated by the global community, with most people believing he doesn’t exist. He’s treated as a myth— a man larger than life, despite his seemingly active involvement in Southeast Asia’s crime scene. The mere concept of the Ghost-Maker is treated as legend, similar to how the people of Gotham speculated over Batman’s existence during Bruce’s early days as the vigilante. However, it raises a larger question: Why is Minhkhoa Khan so elusive, and what were the motivations behind making him so?

The answer requires the consideration of several factors: the fact that there are less than ten living people who know Minhkhoa’s name and even less that have seen his face, the overall nature of his work as a vigilante with no qualms against killing, his status as a ‘foreign vigilante’ when compared to the other members of Batman’s circle, and the treatment of his overarching identity as a whole.

It’s clear that Ghost-Maker is far more secretive than Batman, most significantly in his personal life. Batman is inextricably tied to his public persona of Bruce Wayne, the former-billionaire CEO of Wayne Enterprises and “Gotham’s favorite son,” whereas Minhkhoa Khan is simply unknown to the world. When considered in the scope of his vigilantism, it makes sense: he commits objectively more ‘severe’ crimes than Batman, disregarding the fact that he doesn’t kill when working with Batman following his promise to refrain from doing so. However, when factoring in his racial identity, it quickly begins to unravel.

Comic books are far from immune from stereotypes, and even more well-known for orientalism in iconic characters such as Ra’s Al Ghul and his daughter, Talia, both of whom are portrayed with a certain mystique and air of exoticism. Though it may not have been intentional, there is something to be said about the tropes surrounding Minhkhoa Khan. He’s mysterious, alluring, and utilizes swords similar to katanas despite not being Japanese, adding to the air of foreignness surrounding him. Bruce states on numerous occasions that there’s something “broken” in him, and a large part of their arguments are founded on the basis of Bruce attempting to pacify or fix Minhkhoa and his efforts being rejected every time.

When Bruce Wayne is angry, it’s justified, often caused by an overwhelming need to survive in the instance of Batman: The Knight. When Minhkhoa Khan is angry, it’s out of malicious intent to harm others and is just further ‘proof’ of his innate inhumanity. He’s not allowed to be angry, not in the sense that Batman is, because his anger is violence and his violence is feral. His actions are driven by an inability for him to control himself, hence why he has no issue with sleeping around and killing people. There is always something inherently ‘other’ about him because he is brown, something that is even further emphasized by his juxtaposition to Batman.

Minhkhoa is without a doubt a complex character, as seen in the way he seeks out knowledge to understand the emotions of those around him— most notably Bruce— and effectively go against the harsh stereotypes surrounding him. The layers to his personality are deep, and yet they’re not immune to subconscious bias on the writers’ parts. He’s violent, almost alarmingly so, and is only “tamed” when he makes a promise to a white man. He allegedly doesn’t understand emotions and has to be told to make an effort to do so despite being a grown man, and this in itself is a disservice to two integral parts of his identity.

His presumed antisocial personality disorder is treated as one-dimensional and not multifaceted as personality disorders tend to be, and he only seems capable of experiencing one emotion at a time. He’s allowed to be harsh, but that harshness is dulled when he’s around Bruce, his alleged ‘pacifier.’ He’s shown to be emotionally stunted and incapable of caring for children despite being exceedingly smart in other categories, which is strange. It would be assumed that a man of his caliber would understand the fundamentals of raising a child, especially when he understands his own emotions enough to program an artificial intelligence to feel fear for him. Perhaps it’s intended to be a mirror of Bruce Wayne’s own inability to seek professional help, but Bruce is allowed to and has grown from their youth, while Minhkhoa evidently hasn’t.

There is an inherent issue within the overarching ‘Batman Family’ in that less popular characters are shunted in favor of placing Batman at the forefront, depriving his allies of the proper growth and characterization they deserve. We see it in Barbara Gordon and Selina Kyle, whose character development arcs have been completely shattered post-New 52 in order to make them more palatable love interests for Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne, respectively. It’s seen with Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain, who are often overlooked in favor of their male counterparts, and it’s seen in Duke Thomas, who has always been placed on the outskirts of both canon and fandom content despite being created ten years ago and being a fairly-established character.

Minhkhoa is no stranger to this trend, his personality and actions seemingly shifting based on whether he’s interacting with Batman or not. This could be explored in depth through a lens other than the precarious pacifier-pacified dynamic, yet DC Comics refuses to pursue anything further. They attempted to mold him in Batman Incorporated (2022) but fell short with a lackluster plot and prolonged continuations of the aforementioned tropes and stereotypes.

Ghost-Maker is a character teeming with potential, as are all of Batman’s allies, but he’s veering towards a dangerous characterization if DC continues to go down the path of hiring uneducated writers to portray him. There are several intentional aspects of his character, most notably found in his intentional color parallels with Batman, and yet they can’t seem to put in an effort to treat him and his experience with care and respect.

#mars.txt #dc #bruce wayne #ghostbat #minhkhoa khan #ghostmaker #UMMMMM. I was kind of insane ove rthis sorry

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