what do you think toshiro's version of laios would've been like if he was still with the group during the shapeshifter shenanigans
there have been a few speculations in the tag and among the fans and they are all very good SO i am going to take this opportunity to insert a bit of my shipping bias as i like in my interpretation LMAO agdsfgdfgv
i noted that in actuality shuro seems to have a very good grasp on laios' character??? this is most obvious in the manga later on but even seeing how he criticises laios in their fight... iirc nothing he says is actually untrue or wildly exaggerated, and while he does express frustration over something he feels like laios Should have control over (noticing his cues), he is also aware that laios isnt being malicious and that hes Just Like That. what i mean to say is that while i think his version of laios may seem more pushy and in-your-face, i dont think it will be overwhelmingly so. if its post-fight, i think the idea of laios (and marcille) being willing to do anything to get falin back made a big impression on him, as well as the idea that they need to eat and rest in order to succeed in their goals, so those aspects would be prominent in his version. he seems pretty observant, so i think for the most part the physical traits would line up, but i think there would be specific things that stand out to him that would appear strangely striking on his version of laios (like. idk something about his eye colour or the subtle contrast of his armour and chainmail. he seems to have a weird sense of aesthetics if extras are anything to go by lmao). if hed actually been paying attention all those times laios had gone on about what the hell ever, then it might be even MORE hard to tell apart his version since he would also have a good grasp on what laios should know. so either his version of laios is pretty difficult to pick out, OR despite the character being accurate his appearance is too. stylised lmao (exaggerated features or something) OR!! they just get him to pull out his monster gourmet guide thing and are able to tell from there. iirc everyone was surprised at its appearance so its possible toshiro had also never seen it before
IN MY IMAGINARY SHIPPING SCENARIO............ lets say that his laios isnt able to be picked out immediately and that the monster guide thing also doesnt immediately occur to anyone. what the real laios Specifically notices is how close this other laios keeps getting to shuro. and hes like. ??? why is he getting so close to him, theres no way i get that close to him??? but no one else seems to be picking up on it as weird, so hes having a small crisis like do i REALLY get that close to him???? and now that hes on the outside he notices shuro subtly leaning away and he feels both a wave of shame and..... protectiveness??? (JEALOUSY??????) and he immediately steps in and grabs him like Hey!!! cant you see hes uncomfortable???? weve been through this already!!! and like. ok i cant believe im doing this again but i need to separate this into different endings
a) the whump route: i dont think shuro ever envisioned Actually Telling laios about his frustrations outside of being basically cornered into it. has he ever spoken up against what was expected of him?? has he ever been confrontational???? i think part of what held him back from expressing his frustrations, along with the cultural norms, could be fear of what the reaction would be. if he had done the same in any other aspect of his life (his family, his inheritance), i think he would expect disappointment, disapproval, more proof that he doesnt add up to expectation. to be honest i dont think he Truly believes that laios is the type of person to react like this. but it was strong enough to prevent him from acting and i think would be projected onto his image of laios. maybe fake!laios says something dismissive like Well if it really bothered him hed say something right? what, he cant even stand up for himself? cmon, shuro, prove that you cant handle it just like everything else. and thats pretty much the fastest giveaway that it isnt really laios. of course this would be a HUGE tonal departure from what the actual episode/chapter was, so:
b) the dumbass route: both laioses break into fisticuffs, and, yes.... barking. and so they speedrun the entire encounter as the shapeshifters true form appears and, after laios points out that thinking too hard about others versions of you can tear apart groups and peace of mind, they pointedly do not speak of it again. they think about it though. a LOT
c) the normal route: both laioses argue normal like and the group ends up being able to tell them apart because the fake laios goes on a little too long about how theyre all here for falin and everyones like ok its not like he DOESNT love his sister but.......... the rest of the scenario probably goes like canon, though then i would want to see what everyone Else thought of shuro
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A Casual Indictment of Clive Rosfield
Thinking about how Clive swore to kill the one who killed his brother.
Thinking about how he told Cid that once he'd done so, "whatever happens, happens", and how Cid then chided him for being a slave to fate.
Thinking about how, according to the Ultimania, Clive made Joshua the core of his spiritual identity...and how he began training to be his Shield since the tender age of 6.
Thinking about how, when fighting Ultima in the end, he did so as Joshua's Shield, and nearly every exchange he had with Ultima was drawn from Joshua's last words. But when the fight was done...his high idealism of humanity seemed to fade. Because it wasn't his own. It was Joshua's.
...Thinking that the "Logos" presence that Ultima picked up on in the Interdimensional Rift and in Origin was not Clive--it was Joshua. Joshua, who'd picked up the power of creation. Joshua "with my light in your heart" Rosfield, who occupied Clive's being so much that Ultima could not. (In short, Joshua benevolently "stole" Mythos out from under Ultima.)
...Coming to the conclusion that Clive ultimately did fulfill his original vow, coming full circle: To kill the one who killed his brother, and then let whatever happened next, happen.
Which means...if we agree with Cid's perspective, Clive was not free. He did not fight for himself, nor against his fate. He did not try to save himself after Joshua was gone, even when so many others wanted him to. (Irony of ironies, Clive committed what was one of Ultima's chief sins according to his brother: He refused, in the end, to honor the faith and will others had for him to return, even those he most treasured.)
If one person makes their relationship and duty to another person their whole identity, can that person truly be free willed, on a spiritual scale?
No...I don't think they can be.
Free will (I think) demands some sense of inherent worth, independent selfhood/ personhood--a sense of identity that allows for the value of others' input, but does not require them to validate or qualify it.
Whether he triumphs or fails; whether he lives or dies, I would very much like to see Clive fight for himself--to find out who or what he is to himself when not defined by his role or duty to another person.
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A little something featuring Fuuta and Es after talking about their criminal lack of interaction in fanworks with @waivyjellyfish ! You had such awesome ideas (a few of which I'm still bouncing around in my head to post at some point,) but this one ended up taking over my brain -- I hope you enjoy 😅 Attempting to answer the widely-debated question:
“Oi, why didn’t you hit me?”
Es looked up from their paperwork.
“Prisoner number three. Most people are glad when they’re not struck.”
“Well, I’m not.”
Es usually left the door open at this hour, in case anyone had any last-minute complaints before curfew. No one usually took them up on the offer. They figured that if there was any prisoner they could count on to complain, it would be Fuuta marching through their door.
“You hit all the other guys. You even hit some of the girls that were giving you trouble. So what? You think I’m too weak? You think I can’t take it?” Fuuta spread his arms. “I can, so show me what you’ve got!”
Es sighed. They put down their pen. They folded their gloved hands together, resting their chin on top. “Fuuta, I’m not going to hit you.”
“Why not?”
“As of right now, I have no reason to. If you’re referring to the interrogations…”
They reflected on the first one they'd shared with him. To be fair, the thought had crossed their mind. It would have been satisfying to give this rowdy prisoner a taste of his own medicine – striking him after such a dramatic charge at them. But Es was always good at reading people. It didn’t take them long to understand Fuuta was the type to lash out first and ask questions later. In fact, that was likely what had landed him in Milgram in the first place.
Although Es knew they weren’t here to do any reformation, they wanted to try to show these prisoners where they’d gone wrong. So, they resolved to act as the bigger person. They’d prove that senseless violence was just that. By keeping their composure, they’d show Fuuta just how childish he was being.
That wasn’t my only reason. I guess that's true, my actions weren’t all purely righteous. I still spent the entire time looking for ways to make him squirm… But it wasn’t all cruelty. I really did want to understand. I wanted to help. That counts for something, right?
Es never struck the prisoners out of anger, or as a petty show of power. It was a way to force the prisoner to mind their ego. When they’d gotten a bit too full of themselves, a bit too comfortable with the awful deed they’d committed, Es’ blow encouraged them to feel a bit more humility and guilt.
By the time the second trial arrived, Fuuta oozed guilt.
The moment Es entered the interrogation room, it was clear that he needed no lesson in humility. He hugged his arms to his chest. His remaining eye darted around the room in thinly-veiled hysteria. His voice trembled when he spoke. It didn’t require any people-reading skills to hear the remorse that underlaid all of his accusations and threats.
Hitting the others felt like giving a dog a tap on the nose after breaking a rule. Meanwhile, Fuuta snapped and snarled like a stray who’d been kicked time and time again.
Of course, he could never know any of this. Any way Es phrased it, Fuuta would misunderstand it as pity.
Well, wasn’t it? I thought he looked like a kicked puppy – that sounds a lot like pity. No, it was out of respect. Does that mean I didn’t respect the prisoners I did hit? No. I respected them too. Then, what’s the difference?
Fuuta was still staring at them, asking the very same question. What’s the difference?
“Each of Milgram’s prisoners is unique.”
They were met with an unimpressed glare.
Es chose their words carefully. “Each one responds best to a variety of treatments. Some need attention to be comfortable, while others need time. Some need validation in order to confess. Others, a bit of debate does the trick. Some need a show of force. You –” remind me too much of myself “– require something else. I’ve learned to change my approach depending on the person I’m dealing with.”
Fuuta’s features flashed with confusion, then shame, then his usual mask of anger. “Tch. How pathetic.”
“Excuse me?”
“So you just change your personality when it’s convenient? You put up fake smiles and fake attitude? Have some balls and just be yourself.”
Es was caught by surprise. “... I am. Those are all pieces of myself. I choose to bring out different parts when it would be most helpful.”
“Sounds manipulative as hell to me.”
It makes sense he doesn’t understand. He’s a very clear-cut person, with every aspect of his personality lining up in a way that makes sense. I find that predictability fun. Or, is it something that I envy? Could it be both?
They had no time to dwell on it, as Fuuta was struck with an idea. “Though, if you can do it on command, why don’t you give me the ‘you’ that wants to hit someone?”
He spread his arms once more, hands gesturing to his chest. Es pretended not to notice him wince. They remained in their seat.
“What are you waiting for? Hit me!”
“I will not.”
“You just said you can change your personality on a whim, so let’s see it!”
“That is not what I said.”
His good eye began to look frenzied. He raised his voice. “You scared? The big bad warden of Milgram, nothing but a big coward!”
“Stop this. You’re acting childish.”
“No! You’re treating me childishly! Let me see the Es that kicked Shidou! The one that slapped Kazui! Treat me like you treated them!”
“I hit them because they said something stupid. They deserved it.”
“Are you fucking kidding? I deserve it too! I deserve it! Come on!”
At the last word, his voice broke. He stumbled to his knees. He let his head drop. He sucked in strained breath after strained breath. Shidou would surely give him a lecture about getting so worked up with his injuries.
Es finally stood.
They made their way around the desk. They knelt on the floor in front of him.
“Why?” he wheezed. “Tell me…”
“Fuuta.”
Should I just go ahead and do it, just to make him happy? No, I want to talk it out. But what do even I say? I'll tell him that I care. I can’t. None of the prisoners understand that I care. Why? Why is it so hard for them to see? I’m trying my best, why can’t they see?
Es extended their hand carefully. They didn’t know what they hoped to accomplish, but in that moment their thoughts were too loud and conflicting. They needed to do something.
Fuuta saw the gentle intention, and immediately raised his own hand to strike. It froze midair, though whether it was from Milgram’s restrictions or his own hesitation, Es would never know.
Neither of their gestures connected.
Footsteps. Then Yuno’s voice, hesitantly from the doorway. “We heard shouting, is everything alright in here?”
Es retracted their hand. A beat. Fuuta dropped his, too.
“Yuno. Yes, we’re fine. Fuuta was just heading to bed. I’m going to walk him to his cell.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I said, I’m going to walk him to his cell.”
Es stood, nodding to Yuno. When she’d gone, they turned their attention back to the prisoner crumpled on the ground. They made an effort to quiet their ever-racing thoughts.
“Listen. I know you can handle yourself. I’m not doing this because I think you’re weak. You’re strong. Don’t think for a moment that I don’t see that.”
They held out their arm to help him up. He didn’t move.
“Sometimes you are a bit too strong, if you ask me. I mean, picking fights with your prison warden, really?” They clicked their tongue. “You should be grateful for a superior that gives you second chances.”
At last, Fuuta took their hand. He avoided meeting their eyes, but his voice had softened considerably from his rant. “The only thing you give me is a headache.”
Es offered a dry smile as they pulled him to his feet. “The feeling is mutual.”
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more of my oc tervis (any pronouns), the creepiest most miserable little weirdo in town. which is saying something [id under cut]
/ ID: four digital drawings.
The first image is a series of drawings of Tervis on a paper-textured background. A heading at the top reads 'Tervis (Humble)'. One is a coloured headshot of Tervis looking to the left; they have a gaunt face, short receding hair, a scar bisecting their lip and right eyebrow, greyish skin, and are wearing a red shawl around their neck. An arrow pointing at their right eye reads 'one blue eye (mostly blind)'; another arrow pointing at their left eye reads 'one brown eye'. They have a serious, hostile expression. The second drawing is an uncoloured full-body sketch of Tervis. Next to this is the same drawing but coloured and with more polished lineart. Tervis is a thin, hunched figure wearing a long, dark brown robe, a greyish bag on their back, and a red shawl around their head and neck. They are barefoot, and are leaning on a walking staff with both hands. An arrow pointing to the walking staff reads 'needed for walking, useful for hitting'. Tied to the belt around their waist are several long scrolls of paper with writing on them. An arrow pointing to the scrolls reads ''blessings' they paste on infected houses'. Tervis is looking warily out at the viewer from beneath their eyebrows. An arrow pointing to their head reads 'scar from getting hit in the face with a brick (also knocked out a tooth)'. Alongside these drawings are a series of bullet points giving information about Tervis. These read:
indeterminate age, indeterminate gender
religious fanatic (unclear which religion)
lives alone somewhere in the steppe
dislikes everyone but is nicer to children than anyone else
has every disease
The second image is a fake screenshot from the video game Pathologic. Tervis is looking out at the viewer; the background shows scenery from the steppe. The text on screen reads:
CHANGELING: I still don’t see what you could have done that would make you personally responsible for this plague.
TERVIS: Responsible… no, not merely responsible! This is my plague, cast upon my head alone. I am the originator; my sin is at the root of all. I have ventured into the town. I have seen the canker there. No matter how many houses I bless, my sickness sinks deeper. The rotted limb is the death of the body… Surely you understand me. You are a healer, are you not?
CHANGELING: What is it that you are asking me to do?
TERVIS: Let me be the lamb, worker of miracles! My blood shall wet the earth, and bright flowers shall grow… My putrefaction will provide the soil within which new life will burgeon, pure and free of sin and decay. Let it be done. I am ready. My failing flesh is but little sacrifice; in death my weakness will be my strength. Soon these torments will be at an end.
Below are two dialogue options:
You’re insane!
What makes you so sure your death would solve anything?
The third image is a fake screenshot from the video game Pathologic 2. Tervis is looking out at the viewer, and has been painted in semi-realistic style. The text on screen reads:
Tervis: Why do you force me to live? Damn you! Your cure is poison to me. Now I shall never be blessed. You should have left me to bleed.
Below are three dialogue options:
Don’t be absurd. I wasn’t going to watch you die.
What makes you think you deserve suffering?
I wish I had.
At the bottom of the image is a line of dialogue which Tervis has just spoken:
The air is foul. There is rot in this place. The stench of corruption shall be – what was it? What was it? The stench of corruption shall be… swept aside…
The fourth image is a coloured scene depicting Tervis and Clara. They are central in the composition; around them is the steppe, which has been rendered in a loose, painterly style. Tervis is kneeling, their walking staff cast aside, and are reaching out their hands to Clara in a desperate, pleading gesture. They are crying, their face contorted in an expression of agonised ecstasy. Clara stands beside them, one hand reaching out, the other held above Tervis’s head as though about to touch their brow. She has a solemn, pained expression. Behind her head, a break in the dark clouds gives the impression that she is haloed by sunlight; rays of the same light fall onto Tervis, illuminating their face and red robe. End ID. /
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