#in a very literal sense)

[dyedhairanddoodles]

budget etho slab <3

[thatonebipotato]

tfw you have to fight off your demons except there's litterally a demon and he is inside of you. sometimes it's the other way around.

[miriael-the-cozy-witch]

Fear the Reaper, Part 5

This is part 5 of how my WoL made their pact with their voidsent, and became a reaper! I hope you enjoy it! Click here for Part 1! I couldn't remember walking out of Amdapor Keep.

Really, my memory of everything after that scythe had been placed in my hands was... broken. It was only once the lights of Gridania appeared in my vision, looking more like twinkling stars appearing in the night sky as the forest cleared, that I realized I was in motion at all.

My limbs were uncooperative at best, more akin to deadwood than the instruments of a destroyer of gods, only shuffled forward by the gentle tug of... Her.

It was a calming feeling, one of assured direction. That despite my lethargy, I was still capable of movement, even if it was at her insistence.

It was only a slight feeling of horror that matched with the subtle tug on my limbs, that there was this other within me able to subconsciously affect my will in such a way. But it was tiny, minuscule, ignorable.

Once I stepped through the Blue Badger gate, seeing the Roost rise out of the woods beside the great waterfall, it's great water wheel gently shifting turn over turn, I felt myself begin to come out of disassociation.

My first thought was a welcome one, growing from the chattering of the crowds of the aetheryte plaza, a noticeable buzz on the wind.

Home.

The voidsent inside me bristled, flexed a question in my minds eye.

"This? This is home?"

I didn't deign her with an answer, instead pulling my heavy limbs one after the other, my memory harkening back to the first time I walked into Blue Badger gate as a young woman.

I'd just left my family's home in Gelmorra, with nothing but the bloodied spear on my back. An Ixal attack had all but massacred the remaining members of my small community, leaving me with nothing.

No one to call on for aid.

So, with nothing left to me, the last of my family... I made for Gridania. Finally swallowing the Duskwight pride to accept it's walls for some semblance of safety. I heard Hydaelyn's call, got room and board at the Adventurer's Guild, signed up with the Lancer's guild, took missions from Mother Miounne... And the rest they say, was history.

It's as much as my home as any.

This answer seemed to simmer the 'other' in me, as I poked and prodded at the fact that there even was an 'other' consciousness in my person besides my own.

I could... feel her. I could almost taste her displeasure at Gridania, tinged with a bite of brief wonder.

What did she think of my home, this... creature?

"I will tell you my thoughts when you've earned the right to know. Right now, we need sustenance. Immediately. For that, we need to get to Drusilla."

Regardless of the frankly, horrifying fact that she could apparently read my thoughts, she wasn't wrong.

I was starving.

Now that I was more present in my body, the need for food was all consuming. I dipped immediately into the Roost, checked the time for the next airship to Ul'dah, and sat down to order... something.

The moment I sat down, Naoh, one of the servers was at my table waiting patiently for me to tell her what I wanted.

The moment I considered her gaze, it suddenly felt like everyone's was on me.

Miounne's from the Adventurer's guild desk, the other patrons, folks waiting for their airship, everyone.

My eye bounced from face to face, daring their gazes away, even though most were filled with smiles and nods of acknowledgement. My presence was welcome, accepted, expected.

Yet now... I felt like a foreign trespasser in my own city.

"Because you are."

"Miriael?"

I blinked, unsure of what to make of the voidsent's words in my mind, finally comming to grips with Naoh staring at me with concern.

"I'm sorry?" I mumbled out in a lackluster stutter. The miqo'te's ears flickered, whether in concern or annoyance, I didn't know. "I've been saying you name for almost a minute now. Are you okay?" She asked, her eyes wide.

I didn't know I could answer her honestly.

"Just... the usual please. With a side of bacon, I'm famished today."

Naoh gave me a brief but unsure smile, before turning away to the kitchens, leaving me alone with my thoughts as passerby to the airship dock below tried not to stare.

Or... As alone with my thoughts as I could be from now on.

"Oh please. It's not like I can dig through your memories. I can only get the general jist of what you're currently thinking about."

I wrinkled my nose as the smell of food wafting in from the kitchens began to make my mouth water. I hoped food would distract me momentarily from the horror of my new reality and the... thing I'd taken in.

What did I even call her?

Do you... have a name?

A feeling of mirth shot through the back of my mind, a chipped laughter.

"Names are useless. I am your avatar of destruction. The devourer of your enemies. I need no name other than what I am. Voidsent."

I sat on that thought, as Naoh brought out one of my favourites. A stack of pancakes, with indeed, the requested side of bacon, and a hot coffee.

I dug in as I continued my wordless conversation with my passenger.

You need a name. I can't just call you 'the being' when I have to inevitably explain your presence.

"I assure you I do not."

I swallowed a chunk of fluffy deliciousness soaked in syrup, lightly swirling the coffee in my mug as I debated.

You say you're an 'avatar'. How about... Vata?

The being inside considered, I could almost feel her thoughts. I silently sipped at my coffee, wondering if I could... just somehow make this work. That maybe it was the same as it had always been. Just picking up one more ally for the road.

"What would it cost me?"

I stopped with a forkful of pancake halfway to my mouth, frozen in mid-air. The question was unexpected, and frankly, absurd.

I shoved the fork in my mouth, hungrily swallowing, and immediately moving for more.

Nothing, as far as I know. Do you like it?

"The name? I'm... not sure. I think?"

Then you're Vata. Simple as that.

She seemed to still in my mind, retreating from my presence as I cleaned my plate. The feeling I got from her was now wonder. A brief bite of amazement. Apparently this small thing was bigger than I expected, and despite the clear violation of my body, it made me happy for her.

My own satisfaction felt hollow though, as once my plate was clean, I was still hungry. I asked for seconds, and got through that almost just as quickly.

It was only once I was halfway through my third plate, a plain look of concern on Naoh's face as she eyed me from the counter that I began to sense something was wrong.

I felt full. Like my stomach was set to burst.

Yet I was still starving.

"Vata."

I spoke her newfound name aloud, slowly setting the fork with sugar soaked pancake down. The presence in my mind jerked, unsure.

"What?" she demanded, her voice tinged with pretended offence, like I'd disturbed her from some long dead nap.

I stood from the table, nodding to Naoh as I put enough gil for a hefty tip onto the table, walking the few steps to the airship stairway.

What... Is happening to me?

My question burned in my mind, my inner voice seething with knowing anger.

"I told you. We need sustenance. We've wasted precious time on your fool world's version of 'food'."

Her tone reminded me of my mother, explaining the bare necessities to me over and over and over again.

"Our aether is one now. You, my darling, are eating for two."

I sucked in a breath through my teeth, just as my airship lurched into it's port.

"Son of a bitch." I cursed under my breath, wishing I could tear into my insides and rip every inch of her out.

"I'd like to think my mother was kind, but I was too young to know better."

The voice beside me startled me enough to reach for my blade, a phantom limb that was no longer there. I whipped around in an alarmed dash to find Estinien, standing there in his armour with his arms crossed, looking like he'd been standing there for hours.

The smile on his face slowly began to waver, before it shifted back into his more familiar brood, his well-trained eyes darting to where my fingers ached for my blade.

The blade that wasn't there any more.

"You... alright?" He asked, without any subtly. I didn't know if he was capable of it.

Vata swirled in my consciousness, as I forced my breathing to calm, my staggering heart to slow. I was in Gridania. I was safe. It was just Estinien, I could trust him. My shoulders only slightly relaxed for my efforts.

"I'm... I'll be better. Soon." I managed to mumble out, standing a little straighter.

He nodded, the worry not disappearing from his face entirely. "Good."

His one word response was almost exactly what I needed to hear. It was so... familiar. Estinien wasn't capable of lying, or imagining anyone else to lie. To him, if I said I'd be better, I'd meant it.

Even if I had no idea if that was anywhere even close to true.

"Heading back to Ul'dah?" He asked, a bite of curiosity in his voice.

I nodded, beginning to step backwards to the ticket booth. "Someone I need to see before I head back to Broken Glass. I thought you returned days ago... What are you still doing here?"

He shrugged, and then did the one thing I really hoped he wouldn't.

"Waiting for you." He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, as stepping to follow after me.

Oh Fury damn it all.

"Excellent. If we need a snack before we arrive, he'll make a delicious meal."

Quiet you.

"It's true. He's more aetherically dense than most. Tearing into his flesh-"

Shush!

"Are you sure you're alright?"

I looked up, almost surprised we were sitting on the airship, minutes having gone by without my knowledge of it. The airship was already undocking quickly and quietly from the Roost, slowly ascending through the trees southwards. Estinien sat beside me with his arms hanging over the side railing, spear leaned up against his shoulder... much like my scythe against mine.

My hands clutched against it, my knuckles white in desperation as Vata paced in my mind. Pinpricks of her claws at the back of my neck.

"I'm... I will be. I have to be."

He nodded, a few grey strands of hair flickering out of his tight ponytail as the wind picked up, eyes cast towards the skies as if still hunting for dragons.

More likely he was looking for the Blasphemies of the Final Days. The memories of our fighting in Vanaspati weighed in my mind just as much as they did his, I was sure.

But no... The current thing weighing on my mind was my hunger.

My mouth watered as we flew through the skies, my mind deep in thought about my favourite meals. Spiced soup, Knight's bread, grilled cheese...

But nothing I could eat would silence this... unnatural hunger.

I watched the trees fly by underneath us, the hunger now hard to think past.

"I told you. We should've gone to Drusilla immediately." Vata's voice in my head was the only thing powerful enough to bite through the overwhelming feeling. "Now not only have you wasted precious time, you've gone and put us up in the air where the only thing we could feed on..."

My eye felt pulled towards first Estinien beside me, and then finally, the pilot, looking bored behind the helm.

"... Is them."

I blinked, clenching my scythe tighter, terrified of what she meant.

Vata. What do you mean?

I could almost feel her caress of my throat, trying to calm me down. Any sign of her earlier frustration gone.

"Voidsent are eternally hungry. We live to consume, that is our curse. I am practised at controlling it, by age and by power both. Now that our aether is merged, you feel what I feel, and you're... Inexperienced. I've been stuck in Ampador for years, sitting with my hunger."

I felt the pause, the weight of her head against mine, the brush of her lips on my brow as she deftly laid out her curse that we now shared at my feet.

"And now you know what it's like."

I knew I heard her words, I knew I registered them, but they were just the latest in the lone line of horror that was my life lately.

What was worse, having my entire body robbed by Zenos? Or having eternal hunger?

In comparison... This wasn't as bad.

I felt a sigh escape me as I eyed the pilot hungrily. How did I even try?

I shook my head in alarm, briefly amazed that I'd just considered feeding on a random civilian's aether.

Estinien shifted beside me, letting out his own sigh.

"I'm sorry I tried to ambush you about Zenos the other day. I know you're... having a rough go of it."

It took active effort to shift my gaze from the pilot to Estinien, To not lick my lips in hunger, or wonder what he'd taste like.

"It's... Fine. I wasn't in the best headspace, and I'm not sure I am still." I managed to say mostly through my teeth. "I'm sorry... I said those things."

He nodded, leaning forward, placing his spear on his lap. "There's nothing to apologize for Miriael. Just know I'm here for you, if you ever need anything."

He didn't mention the scythe at my side, my obvious twitchy-ness, or my anxious demeanour. Instead he just reached, placing a gauntleted hand on my shoulder. It was one of the things I loved about him. Actions, not words, were Estinien's way. He was letting me know he recognized that right at the moment, I was all kinds of fucked up.

But also that he cared. That he'd be waiting for me when I was good and ready.

I nodding, tearing my eye off him, unable to look at him anymore. Because if I did, I would either cry or try to bite him, I was so hungry.

But it was out of the frying pan, and into the fire, as my eye locked back onto the pilot.

"Take him. He'll do until we get to Drusilla."

My limbs were no longer mine as my gaze locked onto the pilot, standing to my feet clutching my scythe.

"It's been so long since I had a mortal soul that wasn't the rats of Ampador..."

Finally, I would be rid of this hunger.

"Miriael?" Estinien asked with concern as I lowered my scythe, my thoughts only of teeth in flesh, the muscle memory of the soul crystal raising my scythe up, higher and higher, the pilot none-the-wiser as he stared ahead.

"Just a little taste... He wouldn't miss an arm... Would he?"

"Miriael!"

"No... better the whole of him."

I felt her slowly escape from my flesh, manifesting solidifying darkness over my shoulder, her claws reaching upwards and outwards to match the curve of my scythe... Ready to catch whatever I maimed.

This is how we feed.

"MIRIAEL, NO!"

The pilot finally turned around just as I began to bring the scythe down in a perfect cut, it's grim harvest all but certain to slice him open from shoulder to hip.

Only for the scythe to clang against a blood stained spear, bouncing harmlessly backwards to save the poor pilot's life, his face twisted up in a silent scream of terror.

Both Vata's and my head snapped towards the spear's holder, only to be grabbed by the snuff of the neck pulling us away from our destined meal, as an angry nearly seven foot tall dragoon stood inbetween me and the hopeless pilot.

My practised eye examined the dragoon for threat, as Vata growled over my shoulder, swirling in a silent void of darkness, one of her claws creeping protectively around my shoulder. It would be a tough fight. But I knew his moves probably better than he did.

I, was the Blood dragoon after all.

"Miriael... I don't want to do this. I know you're in there. Fight it." The dragoon pleaded with me.

"Don't listen to him. He's so much weaker than you. Let me devour him, and then not only will our hunger be satisfied... We can be stronger still."

Hefting the scythe to hang loosely behind me, I arched out my hand to counter balance, the perfect combat stance for such closed quarters, my eye locking on my enemy-

"Miri. Please."

The dragoon's cry pierced my ears, that hopeful broken voice rushing forth a memory from the depths of my mind. A cold campfire among the cloud filled skies above Dravania... Talking about the possibility of peace, an end to the Dragonsong war... with Ysayle, Alphinaud, and...

"Estinien?" I said quietly, almost unsure that I was looking into the readied stance of my friend, his spear pointed at my heart.

"There you are." He whispered, his voice just barely breaking on the last syllable.

I dropped my scythe to the deck of the airship, as Vata grumbled back into my skin, her shadow wreathed form covered in grey wrappings fading into first mist that then seemed to seep into me.

I all but collapsed forward as Estinien caught me one armed, his other hand still grasping his spear.

"Oh my gods, Estinien, I'm so sorry-I nearly, Estinien I'm so so sorry-" I began to babble as the tears finally came, the grief filled sobs of what I'd done, and what I'd nearly done finally coming due through my emotions.

Estinien said nothing as we lowered slowly to the deck, my fists clenched against his breastplate as he gently placed his spear on the floor to wrap both armoured arms around me, 

"I nearly killed him, and hurt you, and oh gods I'm so sorry" I stuttered out inbetween sobs as I kneeled against him, my tears falling freely from my one good eye, snot blubbering in my gasps as I rested my head against him.

Yet still he said nothing.

He will never forgive me.

Vata was silent. One half of her mind a storm of trying to surpress the hunger in my soul, the other clearly upset that we'd apparently done something bad that she didn't understand.

And now all there was... Was the broken Hero of Eorzea, sobbing against one of her oldest friend's armour after she nearly killed him.

He will never ever forgive me. I've become the very thing I hate.

"Miriael." Estinien whispered into my ear.

I quieted my sobbing just enough to nod against his armour, my hands worming their way around his waist to clutch at his back plate.

"You're okay. I'm sorry. Whatever this is. We'll find a way to help."

I didn't know if they could. I hoped so. Gods did I ever hope so.

Yet despite the fact that I'd just nearly tried to kill my friend, the Black Shroud passed under us, as one terrified pilot carried us ever closer to Ul'dah.

[wowevenmoreloveonearth]

Girls when their disability is disabling

[deactivated4evr]

[midmare]

i let tartaros arc macbeth (partially) slide bc he just broke out of prison & he didn't have time to contour ok, (there is no excuse for why his eyes changed color thou) & also bc the hilarious implication that at some point between joining crime sorciere & showing up for alvarez arc, macbeth bit and scratched to be allowed to drop by a sephora otw to a literal war-zone

[ohthestoryteller]

i am todays punching bag

[foxingpeculiar]

“I could pull poetry out of those eyes forever.”

NGL, kind of proud of that one.

[lameunicorn]

when you understand the 4th dimension and space-time and black holes and infinite timelines and your brain explodes at four in the morning

[nextstopparis]

i really like the hc that magic loved arthur and protected him until merlin came into the picture but very specifically bc it means his idea of like. the laws of physics and How Nature Works would be completely warped. the reason why all those miraculously falling branches didnt raise any questions? its been happening to him his entire life

[comradekatara]

i feel like the reason aang isn’t as adored and beloved as he should be is because he’s the protagonist but he’s also not an archetypal western classical hero. i don’t agree with the entirety of that “avatar aang: feminist icon” essay because i think the role of patriarchy and gender in atla is more complex than what that essay posits, but he definitely complicates the masculine ideal of heroism and generally does not conform to patriarchal notions of masculinity. which is very deliberate, especially as contrasted with sokka and zuko’s explicit struggles with the imperialist/colonial standards of an aggressive, militaristic, and chauvinistic masculinity. aang is subversive because he represents an absence of war in a world ravaged by it. through his link to a (somewhat more) peaceful and harmonious past, he represents a better possible future. as katara would say, he brings people hope.

but people don’t like that he’s not visibly edgy or tormented like zuko is (even though he’s a far more tragic character than zuko is, just fyi), that he isn’t “cool” (even though he’s literally the coolest kid ever, just fyi), that he “gets the girl” (even though if anything, she gets him) despite being twelve and bald and nice (the horror!). katara is the more classical hero of the narrative, as its narrator and its catalyst, the adventurous revolutionary who gradually learns to control and use her powers and eventually becoming a force to be reckoned with. zuko is the classical anti-hero of the narrative, his “redemption arc” constantly hailed as one of the greatest character arcs in television. so people expect katara and zuko, as very obvious narrative foils who parallel each other every step of the way, to be the obvious couple, because based on every romance narrative we’ve been inundated with throughout our lives, within our patriarchal society, they “just make sense together.”

but as much as katara is a protagonist in her own right, aang is the show. the title quite literally represents the central thematic tension of the entire narrative, the colon illustrating the implicit divide between his duties to this brave new world in desperate need of justice and balance, or his duties to his extirpated culture as the last true voice among them. aang is the central figure because this tension represents the crucial ideological battle happening across the entire show. aang is the avatar because he is the only person in the entire world whose values have not been shaped by war.

people constantly laud zuko, in particular, for being the most interesting, complex character in avatar. but i personally don’t even think that’s true. which isn’t to say that zuko isn’t fascinating in his own right, of course, but rather that he’s certainly not the only complex character this show has to offer. he just happens to monologue about his anguish constantly. but aang wasn’t raised as an imperial prince, and so he approaches the world, and his own pain, in a very different manner. the reason he immediately goes to ride giant koi on kyoshi island, mailchutes in omashu, and otherwise goofs around after learning of the shocking ramifications of his people’s genocide is because that’s how he copes with his pain. unlike zuko, who never stops talking about his aches and yearnings, aang represses his trauma and hides his tears behind a mask of upbeat cheerful goofy twelve year old antics.

until he can’t anymore. until he snaps. both katara and zuko wear their hearts on their sleeves, and that includes their rage. but aang’s rage is dangerous specifically because it represents that he has been pushed past his limits, that the conditions of this world in which he is a perpetual stranger, temporally displaced and dispossessed, are intolerable. that peaceful reconciliation is impossible. and the fact that he persists beyond that breaking point, over and over again, to firmly and resoundingly establish his ideals even as they conflict with everything he has learned about this world, a world that is not his own even as he can never return to the world he once knew, is what makes him so unique, so powerful, so beautiful.

i know that aang isn’t the typical hero, neither narratively nor aesthetically, but really, that’s the entire point. the world, our world, needs something other than what we have now. we need someone who will not succumb to the ideals of domination and victory through violence to assert themselves. we need someone who stands firm in refusing to kill the firelord, even as everyone he knows tells him otherwise. we need someone who knows that darkness cannot be vanquished through more darkness, but can only truly yield to purifying light.

and sure, aang is a child, and often acts childishly. sure, he’s not conventionally handsome and alluring. but one thing i will never understand is how that somehow negates his appeal to the masses. because even if you don’t appreciate how crucial he is to the themes of this narrative you all seem to love so much, how can you not love his adorable little face? his precious little laugh, his zest for life, the infinite well of love and kindness he holds in his heart? people who hate aang are crazy to me. because you are, quite literally, hating the world’s most precious baby boy.

[pigfromchino]

thinkin about the woods being a body and about the woods being a community and about fungus and about symbiotic organisms and abou-

[stuckinapril]

I genuinely love not having a crush like I’m not over here feeling physically sick over some mid guy being dry to me I’m literally chilling

[kaladinkholins]

Very interesting to me that a certain subset of the BES fandom's favourite iterations of Mizu and Akemi are seemingly rooted in the facades they have projected towards the world, and are not accurate representations of their true selves.

And I see this is especially the case with Mizu, where fanon likes to paint her as this dominant, hyper-masculine, smirking Cool GuyTM who's going to give you her strap. And this idea of Mizu is often based on the image of her wearing her glasses, and optionally, with her cloak and big, wide-brimmed kasa.

And what's interesting about this, to me, is that fanon is seemingly falling for her deliberate disguise. Because the glasses (with the optional combination of cloak and hat) represent Mizu's suppression of her true self. She is playing a role.

Take this scene of Mizu in the brothel in Episode 4 for example. Here, not only is Mizu wearing her glasses to symbolise the mask she is wearing, but she is purposely acting like some suave and cocky gentleman, intimidating, calm, in control. Her voice is even deeper than usual, like what we hear in her first scene while facing off with Hachiman the Flesh-Trader in Episode 1.

This act that Mizu puts on is an embodiment of masculine showboating, which is highly effective against weak and insecure men like Hachi, but also against women like those who tried to seduce her at the Shindo House.

And that brings me to how Mizu's mask is actually a direct parallel to Akemi's mask in this very same scene.

Here, Akemi is also putting up an act, playing up her naivety and demure girlishness, using her high-pitched lilted voice, complimenting Mizu and trying to make small talk, all so she can seduce and lure Mizu in to drink the drugged cup of sake.

So what I find so interesting and funny about this scene, characters within it, and the subsequent fandom interpretations of both, is that everyone seems to literally be falling for the mask that Mizu and Akemi are putting up to conceal their identities, guard themselves from the world, and get what they want.

It's also a little frustrating because the fanon seems to twist what actually makes Mizu and Akemi's dynamic so interesting by flattening it completely. Because both here and throughout the story, Mizu and Akemi's entire relationship and treatment of each other is solely built off of masks, assumptions, and misconceptions.

Akemi believes Mizu is a selfish, cocky male samurai who destroyed her ex-fiance's career and life, and who abandoned her to let her get dragged away by her father's guards and forcibly married off to a man she didn't know. on the other hand, Mizu believes Akemi is bratty, naive princess who constantly needs saving and who can't make her own decisions.

These misconceptions are even evident in the framing of their first impressions of each other, both of which unfold in these slow-motion POV shots.

Mizu's first impression of Akemi is that of a beautiful, untouchable princess in a cage. Swirling string music in the background.

Akemi's first impression of Mizu is of a mysterious, stoic "demon" samurai who stole her fiance's scarf. Tense music and the sound of ocean waves in the background.

And then, going back to that scene of them together in Episode 4, both Mizu and Akemi continue to fool each other and hold these assumptions of each other, and they both feed into it, as both are purposely acting within the suppressive roles society binds them to in order to achieve their goals within the means they are allowed (Akemi playing the part of a subservient woman; Mizu playing the part of a dominant man).

But then, for once in both their lives, neither of their usual tactics work.

Akemi is trying to use flattery and seduction on Mizu, but Mizu sees right through it, knowing that Akemi is just trying to manipulate and harm her. Rather than give in to Akemi's tactics, Mizu plays with Akemi's emotions by alluding to Taigen's death, before pinning her down, and then when she starts crying, Mizu just rolls her eyes and tells her to shut up.

On the opposite end, when Mizu tries to use brute force and intimidation, Akemi also sees right through it, not falling for it, and instead says this:

"Under your mask, you're not the killer you pretend to be."

Nonetheless, despite the fact that they see a little bit through each other's masks, they both still hold their presumptions of each other until the very end of the season, with Akemi seeing Mizu as an obnoxious samurai swooping in to save the day, and Mizu seeing Akemi as a damsel in distress.

And what I find a bit irksome is that the fandom also resorts to flattening them to these tropes as well.

Because Mizu is not some cool, smooth-talking samurai with a big dick sword as Akemi (and the fandom) might believe. All of that is the facade she puts up and nothing more. In reality, Mizu is an angry, confused and lonely child, and a masterful artist, who is struggling against her own self-hatred. Master Eiji, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

And Akemi, on the other hand, is not some girly, sweet, vain and spoiled princess as Mizu might believe. Instead she has never cared for frivolous things like fashion, love or looks, instead favouring poetry and strategy games instead, and has always only cared about her own independence. Seki, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

But neither is she some authoritative dominatrix, though this is part of her new persona that she is trying to project to get what she wants. Because while Akemi is willful, outspoken, intelligent and authoritative, she can still be naive! She is still often unsure and needs to have her hand held through things, as she is still learning and growing into her full potential. Her new parental/guardian figure, Madame Kaji, knows this as well.

So with all that being said, now that we know that Mizu and Akemi are essentially wearing masks and putting up fronts throughout the show, what would a representation of Mizu's and Akemi's true selves actually look like? Easy. It's in their hair.

This shot on the left is the only time we see Mizu with her hair completely down. In this scene, she's being berated by Mama, and her guard is completely down, she has no weapon, and is no longer wearing any mask, as this is after she showed Mikio "all of herself" and tried to take off the mask of a subservient housewife. Thus, here, she is sad, vulnerable, and feeling small (emphasised further by the framing of the scene). This is a perfect encapsulation of what Mizu is on the inside, underneath all the layers of revenge-obsession and the walls she's put around herself.

In contrast, the only time we Akemi with her hair fully down, she is completely alone in the bath, and this scene takes place after being scorned by her father and left weeping at his feet. But despite all that, Akemi is headstrong, determined, taking the reigns of her life as she makes the choice to run away, but even that choice is reflective of her youthful naivety. She even gets scolded by Seki shortly after this in the next scene, because though she wants to be independent, she still hasn't completely learned to be. Not yet. Regardless, her decisiveness and moment of self-empowerment is emphasised by the framing of the scene, where her face takes up the majority of the shot, and she stares seriously into the middle distance.

To conclude, I wish popular fanon would stop mischaracterising these two, and flattening them into tropes and stereotypes (ie. masculine badass swordsman Mizu and feminine alluring queen but also girly swooning damsel Akemi), all of which just seems... reductive. It also irks me when Akemi is merely upheld as a love interest and romantic device for Mizu and nothing more, when she is literally Mizu's narrative foil (takes far more narrative precedence over romantic interest) and the deuteragonist of this show. She is her own person. That is literally the theme of her entire character and arc.

[superhell]

house md is wild because house tells wilson that he’ll sacrifice many things but never himself and then he sacrifices himself for wilson. and then he sacrifices himself for wilson. and then he sacrifices himself for wilson. and then he

[anakirui]

hot take ??

the only reason people say that "mafuyu and tsukasa have nothing in common" when presented with mafukasa parallels is because they equate mafuyu and tsukasa being similar to "tsukasa has depression" because the fandom equates mafuyu's personality to being depressed and nothing else.

it doesn't help that people (primarily younger people in the fandom) who DO believe in mafukasa parallels end up making the mistake of portraying tsukasa as depressed because as of right now he is not (although it's possible he was in past because of his Very Unclear Middle School Backstory but that's irrelevant)

anyways, mafuyu and tsukasa are narrative foils because their core personalities are built off of the concept of wanting to make the people around them— especially their families— happy.

they both developed personalities at a young age based on someone they looked up to. for tsukasa, it was seiichi amami's performance that inspired him to be a star— a hero that could cheer anyone up. for mafuyu, it was her mother taking care of her that inspired her to be a nurse— and you can see the similarities from there.

for mafuyu, her identity would first come into conflict when her mother expressed her want for mafuyu to be a doctor— suddenly, "everyone's" happiness didn't match what she wanted to do, leaving her in a state of disorder and eventual depression.

for tsukasa, his identity was something he nearly forgot in its entirety at the start of the main story— becoming arrogant and fully absorbed in a hero persona, forgetting the kind person he truly is. furthermore, his current character arc seems to be foreshadowing that what "being a star" to him is going to be called into question— maybe it is something more than just being the main character that saves everyone.

their insecurities are incredibly similar.

in mafuyu's first mixed, mafuyu feels insecure towards ichika because unlike ichika, she feels as if her lyrics have no genuine meaning to be expressed to other people— despite them being her very real feelings. this is brought up again in her second mixed as well.

in tsukasa's third focus event, something similar happens. when watching seiichi's performance, he thinks that his acting is "real" and feels inferior towards him, which is ironic because tsukasa has been method acting this whole time. when tsukasa is acting out rio or bartlett or really anyone at this point in the story, it's not just those characters— it's a reflection of his traumas.

just like mafuyu, tsukasa undermines his passions he's poured his feelings into because someone else's work is more genuine in his eyes.

now, then, foils have many similarities and parallels (and i could honestly list a lot more), but how i define them is that they usually have some kind of major branching difference that MAKES them foils.

for mafuyu and tsukasa it's pretty straightforward.

mafuyu's people pleasing behavior comes from external expectations and pressures— her mother's demands.

tsukasa's people pleasing behavior comes internally, from himself— if he can't meet his own standards, if he can't be the perfect big brother or the perfect star, then he is nothing.

and even then, there's some overlap.

tsukasa's behavior was indirectly encouraged by his mother praising him for being a "good big brother" over the phone instead of asking him if he was okay while home alone.

mafuyu's terrified to be herself around other people because she doesn't want to worry or bother them— she doesn't want to be a burden— and projects her mother's expectations onto them, not realizing that they would prefer the real mafuyu if they knew the truth.

and the concept of mafukasa being foils is most perfectly and blatantly portrayed in these two cards.

mafuyu, the marionette, sitting limp on the floor— puppeteered by her mother's demands and donning a mask to hide her true self.

tsukasa, the jester, standing above everything else— puppeteering silenced plushies— his feelings. he's not being completely honest with himself, and he doesn't even realize it.

mafuyu has cut her strings and ripped her mask in half. she has acknowledged her true feelings and expressed them to her mother, even if she had to run away in the end.

tsukasa has not yet cut his.