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queer-as-used-by-tolkien · 2 years

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Storyline Study: Personal Story

Yesterday, I reblogged various threads of a post about what makes "war stories" so special, and now I'm going to derail into GW2.

Please note that this may be colored slightly by the fact that I main human + Vigil story. Feel free to read that into this analysis. (Also, playing as norn I think puts a slightly different spin on the PS, so this doesn't apply to them as much.)

The reason I, personally, am so attached to GW2 is because of the reasons we're fighting. Core/PS was introduced with "the dragons are horrific eldritch abominations, forces of nature we can't HOPE to stop, whose champions' defeats take the sacrifice of whole races." This is literally the synopsis on the back of Edge of Destiny. The price of fighting is huge, on a national level and a personal one, and everyone in the story consistently chooses to pay it anyway. What's interesting is why.

PS opens up with the player, young, untraveled, and naive, fighting in defense of the only home they's ever known - the city they's lived in all their life (or the Dream they haven't set foot outside of yet). They spends the next thirty levels traveling, fighting back the same threat they was faced with at level one, getting to know their racial mentor, and, eventually, learning about dragon minions.

I've talked before in a reblog (but apparently it got deleted, so here's the OP) about how the real reason the player is so famous is because they help people. In all the mundane ways, not just the big, war-related ones; they expresses care and concern for the civilians who suffer, in every map and throughout every map meta. They's done that from day one. They isn't famous because they fought the baddie in the tutorial; they was fighting alongside already well-established heroes, and at best the player is acknowledged only by association. No, the player is famous because they spread their care and kindness throughout the countryside afterward, becoming a hero in connection to their big heroic accomplishment at the tutorial only retroactively. (I mean, it's even in the name: renown hearts. Almost nowhere else in the game does it refer to our fame so blatantly.)

Throughout all eighty levels, the player continues to do this, showing their care and concern for the civilians, showing where their heart lies - with the people of the world who will suffer if someone doesn't step up to fight the dragons.

After the story establishes this solid motivation for the player, through focusing the story on aiding your country and becoming a valued advisor of your nation's top leadership, the player chooses an Order - chooses, in essence, that the way they can serve their country best is by fighting the dragons. That choice was generally understood to be a death sentence, because Elder Dragons were understood to be unstoppable forces of nature. But the player chose it anyway, because defending their country - their world - was important enough to try anyway, to go out fighting despite it being impossible.

I'm Vigil main, and I'm heavily Vigil-biased in all ways, but "some must fight so that all may be free" is a pretty good descriptor of the whole PS. Aside from being Almorra's personal motivation, and the motivation of the whole Vigil, it is also shown to be the motivator of the player, regardless of Order, by their behavior throughout the game.

The player chooses their Order but does not stop lending aid to anyone around who so much as looks like they need it; a passing traveler or merchant without a guard draws the player like a moth to a flame, and they pitches in to any regional or local battle they finds. This shows where their heart is, in the love and care and concern for the common people.

The player could've served their country or the world some other way, but they chose to fight dragons, because they saw dragons as most important. They saw dragons as more important than even their racial mentor did; this is the key that eventually brings Destiny's Edge together; "you have led, by word and by deed."

The player continues this even after being appointed Commander, and the story supports this by introducing the other primary character, Trahearne. Trahearne can be seen as symbolically representing the important qualities of the Commander, almost as a backup in case/when these qualities get edited out by players.

Trahearne also plays the role of a major supporting character, having similar goals and motivations; he has dedicated his life to cleansing Orr, because it used to be full of such life and what has happened to it is a tragedy - something to fix, and something to prevent from happening again. The devastation of Orr can be understood to symbolize the devastation to the people of Tyria if the dragons are allowed to win, and Trahearne's response to it as something that has already happened perfectly encapsulates the way the Commander reacts to it as something that cannot be allowed to happen in the future.

And the great and amazing thing is that everyone else in the story agrees. All the vast armies of unnamed soldiers - they have those same motivations and values. We know that because the Orders wouldn't exist otherwise. Nobody wants to fight such a losing battle unless they're bitter and/or seeking (futile) revenge. And those few are not the ones who are passionately leading the charge.

The leaders are the people like Almorra and Trahearne, who are fighting because the devastation and loss of life is so abhorrent to them, personally. The Pact is such a beautiful thing because everyone is united in a common goal, by a common motivation, because the dragons are honestly just that evil.

But most powerful of all is that we never expected to win. Cleansing Orr was supposed to be impossible. Killing Elder Dragons was assuredly impossible. Even trying to fight the dragons was just a defiant cry into the void, a declaration that we would not go down without a fight. Nobody expected to win, just to die, sure they'd done all they could.

And that refusal to do otherwise, the refusal to do other than hope, even amidst the destruction and lifelessness and horror of Orr, was motivated by our love for our homelands, for our people. And the player showed that by a lifestyle of helping wherever they could - by every renown heart and every event, multiple times per level, for eighty levels.

That's why I love the PS so much, I think. It's about hope in the face of the impossible, fighting on in the face of despair, because the world and life is worth fighting for, not because we ever expected to win.

And that's why actually cleansing Orr and defeating Zhaitan were such huge milestones, why everyone spent so much time marveling that we actually did it - because nobody was doing it in order to actually do it, but rather because they couldn't, in good conscience, do anything else, and it was worth it to give their lives to the cause.

The rest of the game post-Zhaitan does keep this theme of caring about the civilians, of course; but fighting the dragons now is just really difficult, not impossible and hopeless. Now there is a chance of survival, and you're fighting for a better future, and fighting isn't that hard anymore. You're not walking to certain death, you're fighting for a hope, emboldened because you know it really is possible.

After Zhaitan's defeat, there always remain hearts and events alongside the main story, because at heart the Commander is a kind and caring person who fights for the civilians, but the story itself is no longer about that concern, it's no longer about showing why the Commander cares or how dedicated the Commander is to the cause, but rather about the logistics of getting that done. It's about the Commander using their own force of inspiration, and the cause of fighting for home and country, to gather allies, proving it again and again, but in a sort of background way. The main focus of the story has moved on.

The story has moved on to questions such as is it even a good idea to be fighting dragons? The story has been, slowly, ever since S3 at the latest, having us question our decisions, making dragons out to be less and less "eldritch abominations" and more and more "corrupted/tormented by their own magic," with the ability to be spoken to and reasoned with, and even pitied. This idea runs counter to everything I've just talked about.

The ending of S4, where we speak to Kralkatorrik and we find out he's been controlled by his Torment this whole time and he's actually thoroughly miserable - it COMPLETELY destroys the whole point of Almorra's story and the way it related so beautifully to the rest of the game that made it compelling. And this is true of all of Core PS - to find out we were just wrong the whole time, completely ignorant, just misunderstanding the whole nature of the universe? That, by rights, we shouldn't have been trying to kill Zhaitan, but speak to him? It destroys all the moral and emotional credibility of the whole story. (I try to think about that as little as possible.)

Really, Core PS (and maybe up through HoT, perhaps) is a completely different story with a completely different message than S3 and onwards, and maybe that's why I've never really cared about the later parts of GW2 so much.

I've always preferred the PS because it is the most compelling part of the GW2 storyline. It was our first time. We had never won before. We were fighting clearly outlined Evil, personified as unstoppable forces of nature, and we could only win against them by such extreme acts of selfless Good as sacrificing our lives for strangers.

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yuwuta · 4 months

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VITAMIN ME — JUJUTSU KAISEN BOYS + SICK FIC

featuring. gojo, toji, inumaki, nanami, okkotsu, itadori, choso, fushiguro

content. taking care of the boys/the boys taking care of you when feeling sick, all fluff, no warnings

word count. 2.5k

SATORU GOJO

He doesn’t feel under the weather often, but when he does, it hits him tenfold. He’s whiny, dramatic, borderline inconsolable, and feels well within his rights to demand your undivided attention, because he’s not usually like this… sick, that is (he is usually whiny and dramatic, no illness in the world could take that away from him).

You and him both know when he’s dragging it, but you can’t help but to feel bad for him. Because when Satoru is sick, he’s sick—you feel like you need to constantly monitor all his vitals, set a timer to make sure he gets medication because he’s so cold and pale and sluggish, it’s worrisome. Of course, he finds the strength to tease you, “You worried about little old me, sweets? Don’t be—‘m gonna be fine, you know. But I hear kisses cure the flu.”

“Not scientifically proven, or peer reviewed,” you tell him, “But you know what is? Tylenol. Time for more, open up, Satoru.”

“Will I get a kiss? Just a little one?”

He gives you a hard time, even in sickness, but it’s only because he absolutely relishes being in your care, thinks you’re good at taking care of him; proven by the way you give in with a nod, and then a kiss after he takes his medication. He really does feel like shit right now, but with you here, caring for him, his heart has expanded ten times and a warmth spills into his chest that makes the pain insignificant. Satoru feels honored and humbled to have someone fuss over him like this—to have this concrete reminder that you worry for him and care about him and love him just like he loves you.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

“You gonna feed me?” Toji grumbles, sounding much less threatening with a frog in his throat, “Because there’s no way I’m drinking that.”

You roll your eyes, lightly tapping the spoon against the edge of the mug before placing it onto the coffee table and extending your arms towards Toji, “The ginger is good for you. The lemon, too, if you wanna stop sounding like a low-budget villain anytime soon.”

Toji’s nose scrunches—it’s almost cute, if it weren’t followed by an infuriatingly stubborn turn of his jaw, pointedly away from you and back to the television. You huff, sitting down next to him—or as close as you can get through his mountain of blankets and forcefield of pillows—carefully nursing the cup in your palms.

Who would have thought that the great Toji Fushiguro would be so stubborn as to let a little cold get the best of him. Him attempting to suffer without cold medicine wasn’t that surprising, but you didn’t think that he’d petulantly refuse tea just because of some ginger. Getting him to take his antibiotics only worked when you told him you’d boot him onto the couch if he didn’t, but that won’t work this time, he’ll call your bluff.

You sigh, moving a pillow to your other side and reaching over to the coffee table to redeem your spoon. You fold one leg under the other and turn your body to Toji’s, scooping tea into the spoon, giving it a soft blow, and then raising it to his face. He quirks an eyebrow when he feels the steam brushing against his skin, and turns to you with a hellish grin.

He opens his mouth, to say something slick no doubt, but you take advantage of the opportunity to shove the spoon in his mouth, “You don’t get to talk until after you finish your tea.”

TOGE INUMAKI

Despite being a renowned insomniac and someone who is willing to throw away hours of sleep to binge watch his favorite series or complete a new game, Toge does believe that rest is the best medicine. He does take his own sleep seriously—it’s not his fault that most people consider his preferred sleeping hours to be regular waking hours.

So, even though it sounds a bit hypocritical, Toge is very firm about you resting as much as you can when you’re not feeling well. He’s quick to make a cocoon out of you in your two favorite blankets and fit you onto the couch to keep you within sight as he rummages around the kitchen to prepare your meals, and make sure that you don’t skimp out on your medication. He’s got some pretty effective homemade remedies for a killer sore throat, but cough syrup is cough syrup—he knows it tastes horrible, but if he has to force feed it to you, then so be it.

He feeds you spoonfuls of homemade broth and rice to make up for it, giggling as you scrunch your nose from the taste of the medicine. When you’re finished, he lets you tell him off and forgoes teasing you about how nasally you sound as he coerces you to lay down again. You don’t feel sleepy, but when Toge’s lips brush against your forehead, his words are like a spell that makes your eyes flutter shut, “Sleep, my love.”

KENTO NANAMI

“It’s cold, Ken,” you whine, sniffling at the end of your sentence. Kento sighs softly, switching off the light to the bathroom and taking careful strides to the bed. He carefully sits on the edge of the bed, expression sympathetic as you complain about the temperature again.

The room is actually slightly warmer than normal per your earlier request, but he knows you still feel cold because of how high your temperature is. It's exactly why he took your blanket from you—fuzzy, and warm, and weighted would all be enticing and acceptable if you weren’t running a very concerning fever. Kento absolutely hates to say no to you, but he has to do something to break your fever.

“I know, darling,” he nods gently, settling himself onto his side of the bed. He’d prefer to have the comfort of a heavy blanket right now, too, but he wouldn’t taunt you like that—if you have to sleep without one, then so will he. He should get you another cold towel for your forehead, but you tug on his heartstrings when you scoot yourself closer to him, nose nudging against his thigh. He smiles softly, carefully reaching to tap at your arms, “Come here.”

You shuffle upwards and into his arms, cheek pressed against his chest with your arms coming to wrap around his torso. Kento lets you melt into him and wraps strong arms around your body to keep you close—body heat will have to do for now.

YUUTA OKKOTSU

Yuuta walks—waddles, really—with his blanket over his shoulders, mouth slightly ajar, and a box of tissue in his hand for good measure. He looks cute despite his febrile state, with his nose red and eyes wide and you have to resist the urge to coo at him.

“I thought the Benadryl would have kept you asleep at least a little longer,” you smile, turning off the heat underneath the pot.

“Something smelled good... and I got hungry,” Yuuta shrugs weakly, taking the remaining steps into the kitchen and plopping his body weight onto a stool at the island. He sniffles deeply, setting his box of tissues down on the counter, before pointing at the lowly simmering pot behind you, “Is that… for me?”

“No, it’s for my other sick boyfriend,” you grin, reaching into a nearby cabinet for a bowl. You giggle when you see Yuuta’s pouty expression, cheeks a light pink and bottom lip jutted slightly.

“It’s not nice to make fun of the ill,” he coughs. His façade is waning, already weakened by his sick state, and crumbling when you push a warm bowl of his favorite soup in front of him. You can’t help but to laugh a little louder because Yuuta’s eyes practically grow three sizes and you swear he’s salivating a little.

He shakes away the shock, turning with a pout when he realizes you’re poking fun at him again, “You’re doing it again. Now you owe me a kiss.”

“Do I?” you tease, taking the seat on the stool next to him, elbows resting on the counter, as you peer up at Yuuta’s flushed face. You’ll let him ride the excuse his blush being the fever for a little longer, “That’s risky. I might get sick, and I have a very cute boyfriend to take care of.”

“I’ll take care of you, too,” Yuuta all but whispers, tired eyes fluttering to your lips, “In sickness and in health, right?”

He leans down a bit and you meet him for a quick kiss, pulling away to smile, “I thought that was for married couples.”

“I’ll fix that soon,” Yuuta smiles, satisfied. You giggle, reaching out to poke his red nose and then his cheek to turn his face back to his soup.

“Well, then go ahead and eat and get well soon,” you muse, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, “I expect a very romantic proposal from an un-sick lover boy.”

YUUJI ITADORI

You should have known that Nobara was going to rat you out sooner or later, if not for your own wellbeing, then for hers—because despite your roommate being a caring soul beneath her tough exterior, she is not caring enough to risk her own health because you’re sniffling all over your shared apartment; especially not before she’s supposed to go on her first vacation with her boyfriend.

On the third day of coughing, Nobara tells you she’s going to camp out with Megumi until her flight, and that Yuuji is the person she’s entrusted with her keys until she returns back from her trip. So, it’s not a surprise that a mere hour later, you find Yuuji all but barreling through your front door with grocery bags in hand, all of which he promptly drops when he hears you hacking out your lungs on the couch, quick to dart to your side and hold your cup as you shakily drink some water.

“Babe! You’re, like, super sick,” he exclaims, now sitting criss-cross on your living room floor, slowly unpacking the grocery bags for a real-time haul, “You should have told me earlier, I could have gotten you all this stuff way sooner!”

“I’m fine, Yuuji. It’s a mild cold at most,” you reassure him, smiling to yourself as he rips open a new box of Kleenex and thrusts it in your direction. He looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, untrusting of your words, before he springs up with the last grocery bag in hand.

“Well, still... I’m not a doctor, but I got all the medications Nanamin told me to get, so we’re gonna get this cold out of you in no time,” he grins, patting your head before leaning down to kiss your forehead, “In the meantime, how about some soup? Oh—I just saw a recipe for something spicy, that should help with your nose right? Or maybe ramen? Leave it to me!”

CHOSO KAMO

You couldn’t help but to snap one more picture of Choso. You felt bad, a little bit, he was tired and sick and probably felt like crap, but he looked very cute when he was sleepy, cuddled up in fuzzy blankets from head to toe, with just enough space to expose his tired eyes and red nose. One more wouldn’t hurt.

You smile to yourself as you look back at him, slipping your phone into your pocket and walking over to join Choso on the couch. There’s not enough room for you to sit in the seat, so you have to cotch yourself in the arm of the couch closest to his head and gently reach out to move a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. It would make for another cute picture, but you refrain, choosing to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead instead, before standing to start picking up the spare tissue and cough drop wrappers littered around him.

You always tell him he’s going to worry himself sick, and he’s managed to do just that. It was a little fun, a little cute, but mostly, you’re just happy that Choso is resting. You know that sleep doesn’t come easily to him under normal circumstances; if being a little under the weather is what gets your boyfriend to slow down and care for his body, then so be it; you’ll be there to help him out.

You’re about to head into the kitchen, when you’re stopped by a warm hand brushing against your leg. You turn to see Choso limply reaching out of your, slowly blinking awake, before weakly beckoning for you again, “Stay here,” he croaks, “Please?”

You smile, placing the gathered trash onto the coffee table, before burying yourself within Choso’s blankets. You have to do a little wiggling to get underneath him, but Choso doesn’t mind, happily resting his weight against you, eyes already fluttering closed again, not before he lets you a meek, “Thank you. I love you.”

You give him one final kiss to the crown of his head, “I love you, too.”

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

“Megumi, are you… okay?” you question softly, leaning over the small restaurant table to squint at your boyfriend. You’d been watching him carefully since he’d picked you up from your house, deducing that something was definitely wrong, even if Megumi had been trying his best to hide it.

He could be quiet, but he was definitely not soft spoken, nor did he normally wince after swallowing a bite of his food. You should have known something was off from the start, when you’d held hands on your walk and Megumi’s fingers were warm, and not icicles attached to his palm.

Megumi freezes, mouth gaping slightly, before he closes it and composes himself with slumped shoulders—he’d considered keeping up his brave front, but it’d be futile at this point, so he sighs, “My throat hurts, is all,” he confesses, the hoarseness of his tired voice peeking through, “I had a fever yesterday, but it was fine this morning.”

You lean over a little more, just enough to be able to extend your hand so that the back of your palm meets Megumi’s forehead. It’s warm, to no surprise, and you find yourself tutting, recoiling your hand slightly, with enough space to flick him.

“Ow?” He groans, and you only roll your eyes. You pull back to fish through your bag, to pull out some cash and leave it on the table. Megumi begins to question you, but you’re not hearing it, getting up to sling your purse over your shoulder and grab your boyfriend by the forearm.

“You’re an idiot,” you scold, ushering him out of the restaurant, “We are going to urgent care to get you a strep test, and then to that bakery Nanami tells us not to tell anyone about to get you soup, and then you are going to sit and eat it and contemplate your actions for the rest of the evening.”

Megumi lets himself be dragged away—another tell-tale sign that he really is feeling under the weather (which is also what he chooses to blame his blush on). If “contemplating his actions,” was code word for you hovering over him for a bit, then maybe he wouldn’t mind.

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