The fact that this "Boy Wonder" by Juni Ba is the only comic that explores Jason and Damian's connection not only to Talia but to the al'Ghuls is so wild. Jason spent three years of his life serving the League of Assassins. That was his home. He learned how to be a man there. It irrevocably changed the way he views empathy. Damian got the chance to unlearn cruelty, but Jason had to unlearn kindness. How do you come back from that?
You're told again and again that you're loved, but not enough to be saved. By your fathers, by your mothers, by your God. Even your miracles are cursed. And then you are taken in, accepted for your violence and your anger and every piece of you for the first time since you were a boy, since everything started going wrong, and they tell you that everything you have been taught is a lie. You must cut out the weakness in you, the people who cling to your feet seeking mercy. How do you say no? Your mother is one of the weak. She died for it. Is that justice?
You have spent so long seeking justice. Were you wrong? Your teachers say you are. Your father said you were, but he didn't say it exactly. He left a lot unsaid. He isn't really your father. He didn't call you his son until he had to. You were his soldier before you were ever his son.
The people here don't love you, but they don't pretend to, either. There is affection, and you tell yourself that is enough. There is food, and there is training, and there is opulence beyond your comprehension. You did not think corruption could run so deep, be so old. Your teachers tell you otherwise. They tell you how they have toppled empire after empire, leaving behind their own influence, but filth continues. Privately, you think it is because the influence they leave behind is filth.
You are plotting. Your childhood ideals of justice were wrong, but you can be adaptable. You can fix what was wrought. There are people you have left behind who deserve the blood you have spilled. Will spill.
The blood never stops pouring. You comfort yourself with the thought that at least it is not innocent blood, but who is to say the difference? You have been wrong before. Thou Shalt Not Kill. But God has killed, will kill, is killing. Who is God? He abandoned you. You find yourself thinking of your father and the Father in a similar light.
When your father officially took you in, there was a party. There was a fancy name for it, but you didn't bother to remember. The room was filled with people. People your father worked with, people your father worked against, mostly people you had never met. Their eyes were cold, and when they touched you, it hurt. It was the first time you considered whether becoming Robin was really worth it.
The people you train with act similarly. They're refined in a way that makes you painfully aware that they hate everything about you. They hate your filthy hands, the shape of your nose, the way you talk. You know they hate you because they say it, in hushed whispers and sneers and quiet alienation. You're not like them. You're street trash.
Their blood stains the floor. Your teachers say that you have a right to hurt them. That they're weak, and their failure will serve as a lesson. The stench makes you sick.
Even when you leave, there's no escaping it. Blood stains your skin, and you cover it with more blood. Your mother would hate what you've become. You're no one's son.
To be clear this is a rant I went on after seeing someone say pure vanilla is symbolized by the stars, and my brain went, well yes... but also no?... ok time to explain at 4am-6am, and circle this WAY TOO MUCH. But I'm not even done, I still have ideas..
Anyways, enjoy!
...
Fun fact! Pure vanilla is canonically depicted as an eclipse after his awakening.
Something Something... even cloaked in darkness, the light shines through... or whatever.
You are also right as before his awakening he is represented as the stars as well.
And would you look at that pre and post corruption shadow milk is too.
Something Something, striving to reach the stars, Something Something, unreachable standards.
And don't forget the loneliness of space and how distant the stars are dispite their shining.
And the whole chasing the moons reflection into the lake.
Above it all is the eclipse can only exist when the stars align, and everything exists in harmony. One cannot have an eclipse with out the sun AND the moon, balance must be achieved.
(This part may be a stretch, idk let me cook)
White lily WAS the moon, with her dark side of dark enchantress, however, she reached the moon, and now, like in history, the door to the universe has been opened. She sets her sights on the stars, no longer unreachable, no longer abstract. The moon is always there, she's seen it, and now ponders the stars.
But if lily isn't the moon then who is?
...
It's shadow milk 🎉
While he is represented as stars both pre and post corruption, post corruption there is also a heavy emphasis on the moon. More specifically the crescent moon. Which can be seen as incomplete, or more literally, not whole. In more ways than one too.
The first and most obvious (to shadow milk) is the idea of the incomplete souljam. He believes it being whole again will "fix" things, and in a way, make him complete. However, it is clear that this belief shifts with the introduction of pure vanilla.
Now, with pure vanilla in the picture, shadow milk sees his past in pure vanilla, Hindsight is 20/20 after all. Now though, the crescent has the opportunity to become whole again, not through reclaiming what was lost, but by finding closure.
Pt2 I guess
The idea of closure for shadow milk exists for both pure vanilla And shadow milk. Now, their ideas of closure are both different and basically the same. They both agree that closure is good for shadow milk, they just disagree on when the closing should happen.
Shadow milk, tried to convince pure vanilla that he was becoming him, walking the same path. He is absolutely right, dispite the difference in the amount of pressure applied, they have experienced very similar lives. So, shadow milk makes one of the great mistakes of an experiment, he reaches a conclusion based on a single data point, with no control group. This is what led to his downfall, a simple case of confirmation bias. He thoroughly believed in his conclusion and thus, ignored any evidence that could disprove his initial prediction. This is why he was so easily tricked, he predicted a result. Therefore, if pure vanilla seemed to be matching up with the predicted result, this would give shadow milk the overwhelming feeling of being in control. As, should pure vanilla corrupt, it would absolve him of any perceived shortcomings on his part. It would mean his own corruption what no fault of his own, it was simply inevitable, there was nothing he could have done to stop it. This is the closure he seeks, that is where his obsession starts, initially this was why he didnt just take the souljam when the chance came. It would ruin the experiment, how would he gain closure that way? As pure vanilla came closer an closer to his breaking point, he looked forward to it. This was not because he would reclaim his souljam, the souljam was never the point of the experiment, it was the closure. Shadow milk's desire to keep pure vanilla at the spire, was born from empathy. Not from sympathy, no, if that were the case the entire experiment wouldn't have happened, not to say he is incapable of it. It was empathy, something shadow milk has most likely never experienced before.
Pt3 I'm somehow not even close to done??
Anyways, empathy, this is likely a new experience for shadow milk, because he has been there, he knows how it feels. At times even literally putting pure vanilla in his shoes. And he isn't even wrong about what pure vanilla is feeling, until the end of course.
But there is a problem, two actually.
1. Pure vanilla was once a normal cookie.
And
2. Pure vanilla is not isolated as shadow milk was.
As I mentioned earlier shadow milk's experiment did not reach the conclusion he expected. These two differences changed the results, pure vanilla grew up as a normal cookie, this gave him both the opportunity to understand cookies in a way shadow milk can't. In addition to that, pure vanilla has seen the good and bad of cookiekind. And most important of all, pure vanilla sees cookies as individuals, not as a homogenous collective. It is why he still has hope for cookiekind, and shadow milk doesn't.
This ties into the second difference, while yes, understanding other cookies is great, it cannot replace mutual understanding, or connection. However, that is not what this point is getting at, in truth, it is meant in a more present sense.
As the first point emphasized, shadow milk cannot truly connect with cookies because of his unusual baking. He cannot relate to the common experiences of cookies because he has not lived through them. Because of this, shadow milk has not attachments, tethers if you will.
Thus with nothing to tether him his fall WAS inevitable!
Unfortunately, shadow milk does not realize this, at least in the moment. That is why he reacts so violently to the end result of his own experiment. For it does not give him closure, but instead rips him wide open.
This moment is the culmination of all of his self-doubt, all of his fears coming true.
Because, if pure vanilla went through the same pains he did, and didnt fall...
Where did that leave him?
Pt4... how did I get here, this was originally just... the symbolism.
Hmm...
Anyways! Eclipses right? Before I started that character dissection, I was trying to mention both pure vanilla and shadow milk, and how their relationship dynamic is depicted in an eclipse... right ok.
The rest of this feels way less deep now...
Ok, so, pure vanilla is often symbolized as light itself. But light can be a symbol in itself, and this can tell us both about him as a character, and how he views shadow milk.
Light has A LOT of meanings symbolism wise, but the main focus is on: truth (obviously), kindness, an embrace (of some kind), and finally, hope. (As well as pure vanilla lol)
Now for pure vanilla alone, it's fairly straightforward (the only thing straight too).
Truth, the main idea for this one is at the very core of his design, both literally and figuratively. To put it simply, light will illuminate the truth, or in other words, it will bring the truth to light.
I feel that kindness is self explanatory for this part.
An embrace though, now that can be taken in several ways. But the main one being, the idea of embracing the truth.
Hope is a bit more complicated, pure vanilla is often depicted as the light in the darkness, the spark of hope. However, the more interesting idea in this case is that of a becon of hope. In other words... a savior.
Hold on folks I'm tying it all in!
As mentioned before both shadow milk and pure vanilla experience some kind of pressure in their lives. Now while shadow milk's is of his purpose as a virtue.
Now pure vanilla's is far less obviously stated, but is generally apparent in his choices. As many have pointed out, pure vanilla likely has a savior complex of some kind. What sets him apart from most depictions is his extremely self-sacrificial nature. Hell the whole beginning cutscene is him sacrificing himself to save his friends and earthbread.
Pt5? Ok tldr of the last point I lost the plot on is that, pure vanilla's savior complex is not due to a sense of righteousness. But rather a sense if empathy, this dude has been through shit, and know what the saved needs. He just doesn't always know how do help, as seen in literally every interaction with the ancients.
Omg, why cant I just make a point!
Ok! Pure vanilla's savior complex is impressed on him by those around him. The other ancients treat him as such, and look down on him for it. They believe his rose tinted glasses make him naive and foolish.
There I finally said it!
This effects his self-esteem and his perception of himself and his own actions. It's why he almost corrupts.
And yet...
It is also what saves him in turn.
His self-esteem doesn't matter.
He doesn't matter.
His choices don't matter.
But his friends?
They matter, their lives, their choices, their self-esteem, they matter.
He doesn't want his friends to suffer.
So he finds a way to save them.
But the only way to save them, is if he retains his freedom, his control.
He gives in, as is both his nature and what is expected of him, and shadow milk takes the bait.
Pt6
Finally the eclipse and how it symbolizes the relationship of shadow milk and pure vanilla.
You know what, I'm just going to do the part of that I have been trying to get too since I started this.
An eclipse is an embrace of the sun's light around the moon.
Light/the sun can symbolize several things, in this case, pure vanilla, truth, and kindness.
The moon, in this case would then symbolize, decit, cruelty, and of course, shadow milk.
Ok quick fire!
Shadow milk + pure vanilla =
Pure vanilla embracing the idea of them being the same.
Cruelty + kindness =
Pure vanilla's accepting that there is both good and bad in the world, the idea of a grey area.
Decit + truth =
Two options, it can either tie back to the first pair or more interestingly is pointedly the perspective of pure vanilla post awakening, as said before an eclipse cannot exist if the moon or the sun aren't there.
Now for the point I came up with around part 4-ish.
Pure vanilla's awakened staff, I've kinda been thinking about it a lot, mostly the idea that it no longer helps pure vanilla see, and those possible implications.
But it also gives an apt symbol, both for shadow milk, and pure vanilla new veiw on truth.
Interprete that in any of the many ways I've mentioned, or even better share your own!
...
I honestly had like three different ways to interpret the eclipse as pure vanilla's awakening symbol. Somehow ended up halfway through a shadow milk character essay. Honestly I cooked, but then decided to actually talk about the symbolism, because that was just tangent. If you guys are interested in hearing more LMK.
...
I hate the comment word limit.
That bitch, ruining my flow.
Edit: I put this into a word counter and...
Where is this motivation for college man... SMH lol
Thinking about that Forgotten Man = Deltarune Gaster as Kris’s Therapist HC again.
I think its actually an interesting take on gaster’s personality.
In a modern world where the war never happened and everyone lives happily…
You’d think he’d have more opportunities to be some innovative scientist on the frontlines for creation, no longer held back by being underground.
But… he’s just a doctor in a small hometown.
The specific branch of therapy we’ve seen FGM deal with is Arts and Crafts. AKA you observe how and what someone creates given a set of tools. Expressing their inner psychology unblemished by surface appearance. It’s a unique way to get to understand and deconstruct someone—by the way they act upon the outside world.
…Is that not what Gaster is doing with us? His DELTARUNE experiment. He’s looking at how this eldritch entity with all the agency in the world chooses to impose their will upon the characters, as Kris moves the paintbrush with their will.
Both DR!Gaster and UT!Gaster are just as fascinated with deconstructing something for answers and solutions. The way the Players ravage and look deep into the code for easter eggs. Examining every fiber of Toby’s art and creations. The way a therapist analyzes their patient’s work.
It begs the question—was FGM just as ambitious for an ultimate truth as Gaster? To the point of self-destruction in pursuit of the answer?
Let Him Sin, Let Her Speak: Why Accountability Is The Missing Piece In Jerza (II)
✦ Part 2 of 5 – ~5.9k words
This piece is original and written from my own structured analysis. Please do not lift, paraphrase, or reframe any part of this meta without clear credit or source linking. These reflections come from a personal and researched lens, not a repackaged discourse.
Reminder: This isn’t meant to change how anyone sees Jerza, Erza, or Jellal. These are simply thoughts I’ve come to over time and needed to express. If it doesn’t sit right with you, it’s okay to skip — there’s no pressure to agree or keep reading.
✦ ━━━━━━━━ ❖ ⚚ ❖ ━━━━━━━━ ✦
Part 3: The Problem with “Jellal as a Victim”
“You cannot ask forgiveness for something you weren’t fully responsible for. That’s the loop Jerza is trapped in.”
“Redemption needs clarity — but when guilt is muddied by manipulation, neither character can move forward with truth.”
So far we have explored the repercussions that affect both Jellal and Erza all due to the fact the narrative refuses to assign clear accountability for what happened. And now we will be discussing the very issues that prop up from the role that the narrative gave Jellal in trying to ‘bypass’ the need for accountability for his arc.
To begin with understanding why Jellal’s arc feels so fragmented in the first place, we need to examine the role of victimhood — how it’s framed, how it’s weaponised, and how it ultimately limits his character.
Let me first be clear with something.
It’s not inherently wrong to portray Jellal as a victim. He was manipulated. He was used. Infact I wish that story would give importance to this more than his guilt. But that being said, though the problem isn’t with him being portrayed as a victim, it becomes one when victimhood becomes the final answer.
Rather than the starting point for deeper exploration of his agency and choices, the story positions victimhood as if it’s the final destination of his journey.
This is deeply damaging to his character and psyche.
The narrative’s reluctance to move beyond “he was a victim” traps Jellal in a static role — one where his actions are excused, his guilt loops endlessly, and his growth is stalled. More importantly, it strips him of complexity. He becomes less of a man grappling with what he’s done, and more of a passive figure overshadowed by his circumstances.
This isn’t about denying his suffering. It’s about acknowledging that victimhood and accountability can — and must — coexist for meaningful redemption.
In this section we’ll explore how the story’s framing of Jellal as a perpetual victim not only undermines his own arc, but weakens the themes of redemption, agency and healing that Jerza was meant to represent.
Victimhood Undermines Emotional Tension
In the current narrative, Jellal is positioned in limbo: villain by action, victim by narrative. This unresolved paradox erases friction, making his redemption less about growth and more about passive suffering.
But like we have already gone over in Part 1 — redemption is not passive.
It is a conscious, and present choice.
When Jellal’s actions are framed as entirely beyond his control, the heart of his redemption arc is hollowed out. Because of this there is no real conflict. No internal fight. No space for growth either.
One character — Erza — is left narrating the pain, while the other — Jellal — quietly accepts guilt he’s never required to truly own. His remorse becomes externalised, disconnected from his personal evolution.
The guilt is there—overwhelmingly so.
But the growth is stagnant.
For Erza, this framing creates an emotional purgatory.
She is never given the opportunity to confront the full weight of his betrayal.
The story avoids the hard conversations — the ones about trust, hurt, accountability — replacing them with symbolic scenes and motifs, that whilst beautiful and moving in the moment — robs their dynamic of true emotional tension.
I want to clarify that I’m not saying Jerza’s symbolic scenes and motifs are meaningless, no. They are held in the heart of many and are absolutely complimentary and beautiful to the ship.
However, they shouldn’t be the only things their relationship is defined by.
Jerza needs the hard conversations too.
Without these necessary confrontations, neither of them are allowed to evolve.
The relationship then just circles the same unresolved wounds, never moving forward, because the narrative itself refuses to face them.
Some might argue that conflict and tension aren’t necessary or are flaws in relational dynamics. But without conflict, how are we meant to know our heart is still in it? When push comes to shove, who is still holding on?
Conflict and tension aren’t flaws to avoid—they’re the engines of character growth both in reality, and in narration. But by erasing Jellal’s agency, the story sacrifices meaningful tension for safety.
But this tension is precisely what Jerza needed: a space where pain, choice and consequence collide to create growth.
Without it, their dynamic becomes ornamental, not alive.
Victimhood may have explained why Jellal fell.
But it should never have been used as a shield to prevent his rise.
Because redemption is not built on victimhood alone.
But it’s built on what comes after.
Jellal’s arc had the potential to be a powerful story of reclaiming agency — of someone who was once manipulated, standing up and saying:
“I made choices. I hurt people. And I will own that.”
That is where redemption finds its emotional power.
Not in erasing his victimhood, but in showing how he rises from it.
By refusing to take him past that starting point, the story traps Jellal in a passive role. What is a significant part of understanding and humanising his character, now becomes a plot device—a permanent status as a shield against deeper accountability. Instead of a foundation of growth, it becomes a narrative ceiling that he is never allowed to break through.
And because of this his growth stalls, his psyche is fractured and his dynamic with Erza stalls too. What could have been a profound exploration of trauma, agency, and healing becomes a cycle of safe, surface-level redemption.
And this is just 1 of the reasons why the perpetual victim role hurts not just Jellal, but Jerza too. (I go more into how this hurts Jerza later on in this section and also in the next designated part to come.)
Just 1 of the reasons why conversation shouldn’t have ended with victimhood for him, it should have begun with it.
But let’s go deeper shall we?
Trapped in Perpetual Victimhood
By denying Jellal meaningful accountability, the story locks him into a cycle of endless guilt without direction. His emotional arc revolves around what was done to him — not what he did to others. Not in the way it should give him clarity.
This framing keeps him reactive, not proactive. He mourns his fall but never truly interrogates it.
A compelling redemption requires more than guilt.
It requires internal reckoning.
Jellal needs to actively confront his past, understand the factors that led to his descent, and — most importantly — make the conscious choice to change. Without this core, this agency, his redemption falls hollow. His guilt loops, but there is no pivot.
No transformation.
As long as the story clings to his victimhood, Jellal’s character remains stagnant.
And because of that, his relationship with Erza suffers alongside.
She becomes trapped in the repetitive dynamic — as said before: always the emotional savior, always the giver — while Jellal remains suspended in self-loathing, never truly meeting her as an equal.
So not only is he trapped in the perpetual self loathing spiral, but Jerza is also trapped in a perpetual emotional imbalance until this is resolved.
But it’s not just with him and her and what they have— it also becomes a problem with what he has with others too.
Namely Oración Seis.
The Oración Seis Example: Narrative Hypocrisy
I have already touched on this point in my previous post, and a bit here but now I’ll go deep into this narrative flaw.
One of the clearest contradictions in Jellal’s arc is his recruitment of the Oracion Seis.
Which is wild because if the story insists on framing him as a mere pawn — a victim manipulated into villainy without true agency — then why does he believe he holds the right to guide other villains toward redemption?
Under the current lens, this feels hollow.
At worst, hypocritical.
A man who was “never at fault” preaching accountability to others who made their own choices?
It doesn’t add up.
And honestly, it does feel like a slap on the face by some holier than thou rhetoric.
But this is a common theme with Fairy Tail and general shounen, which is a whole other conversation I won’t start now.
But in regards to Jellal, the problem doesn’t lie with the intention.
It lies with the narrative’s refusal to fully explore his agency.
Had his fall been portrayed with genuine ownership — had the story allowed him to consciously make terrible choices, even under the weight of trauma — his recruitment of Oracion Seis would shift from hypocrisy to poetic growth.
It wouldn’t be a man on a pedestal preaching down to others.
It would be a man walking the same path.
Guiding them through something he knows firsthand.
Being one who understands—intimately—how far someone can fall.
One who knows the brutal, humiliating climb of choosing to rise again.
I know I sound like a broken record harping on about accountability, but like LOOK at how much is broken in the narrative without it?
Accountability is what would give his actions weight. Without it, his arc collapses under it’s own contradictions — trying to teach lessons he’s never been allowed to learn himself.
And that isn’t the end of what is narratively broken, it goes much much deeper than that.
And the next point explains this just on the basis of what his redemption is being defined by.
Redemption is NOT About Innocence or Victimhood
The idea that Jellal’s redemption is a representation of innocence and victimhood is a problematic stance in itself, because redemption isn’t about being innocent nor excused for bad actions—it’s about acknowledging flaws and changing. In Jellal’s case, if his redemption is only framed as a victim’s journey, it undermines the message of personal responsibility and growth that comes with redemption.
It’s about actively changing through self-awareness and acceptance of past actions—not just waiting for the love of others or time to heal the wounds of trauma.
The narrative of not just Jellal’s arc but Jerza as well could have been so much stronger if it showed Jellal actively and knowingly working on his redemption, instead of having it hinge on Erza’s forgiveness alone. His relationship with her is important, but his personal healing and growth needs to come first because this would then flourish in all the other areas of his life.
For that to happen, that means he would have had to truly own his mistakes to earn that forgiveness, rather than having it handed to him because he’s a victim or suffocating in guilt.
For all the plot and emotional inconsistencies created due to the resistance in allowing Jellal to truly own the narrative, I want to next go into why the current narrative choice not only hurts his character and his present, but also what is to come too.
Erasing Accountability Doesn’t Protect Him—It Sabotages His Future
When the story refuses to commit to Jellal’s responsibility—by framing him solely as a victim of manipulation without any real reckoning—it doesn’t just muddle the past, it actively undermines every arc that follows.
Why?
Because the weight of Jellal’s choices is what gives future moments their impact. His guilt, his restraint, his decisions not to act, his emotional repression, his leadership—these all only matter if he’s reckoning with things he truly did. If not then they all become gestures without substance.
Because if those sins aren’t his, then what is he healing from? What is he trying to prevent? What is he resisting?
What’s the actual cost of redemption, if the fall was never real in the first place?
Letting Jellal own his actions would make his growth earned. It would give him a foundation for him to rise from, instead of floating in vague guilt. Critical scenes—like his confrontation with the Magic Council, his dynamic with Crime Sorcière, his distance from Fairy Tail, even his hesitation around Erza—would hit harder if we knew the emotional stakes were grounded in real responsibility, and not just a performance in pain.
Without that foundation, these moments fall flat. He’s just sad. He’s just guilty. But we’re never actually sure why. Because the story is so secretive about what is going on in Jellal, that leads us as the audience having to fill in the gap with our own assumptions rather than the story defining a clear mental process.
But a good character dynamic shouldn’t be solely built on interpretation from others, especially not when they had been defined clearly enough before. Interpretation should be a consideration, not the consolidation.
Because of this ambiguity in these moments, when characters spiral without clear reason, it becomes less powerful and more performative. In trying to “protect” Jellal from being the bad guy, the story actually robs him of the emotional richness that comes from choosing to change.
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A lot of this section has been focusing on the repercussions of the narrative making Jellal only a victim—how this not only taints his character potential, but possibly everything surrounding him.
Before we go onto the next part I briefly mentioned, I want to quickly go into the damage done when Jerza itself is reinforcing the cycle.
“A Beautiful Prison” : How Jerza is Reinforcing The Cycle
Because Jellal is written as someone who committed horrific acts under manipulation and not full agency, he exists in a limbo space. Like I said before: treated like a villain, but narratively framed as a victim. And instead of that contradiction being explored in a meaningful way, it’s smoothed over with romantic language—like forgiveness, redemption and love.
But here’s the problem (and personally it’s one of the biggest confusions and inconsistencies for the narrative and Jerza as a whole) : You cannot seek forgiveness for sins you were not responsible for.
Trying to do so creates an emotional black hole, which we see is the case with Jellal—he keeps vying for closure that doesn’t exist, because the premise is flawed.
He is incessantly chasing punishment, guilt and self-loathing not only for something he doesn’t understand, but for something he never consciously chose.
That is not healing.
That is torment.
And Erza—whether she means to or not—reinforces it.
“You’re atoning and I forgive you.”
That’s what she tells him. And that’s exactly what locks him in. She never once tells him he didn’t need to be forgiven in the first place. Of course at first she didn’t know he was being controlled, but what about after? It’s never “you weren’t at fault.” or even “you were a victim too”, but instead validating his guilt.
And in doing so she confirms his internal narrative of sin whilst calling it love.
This is going to sound harsh but her doing this is not compassion—it is emotional purgatory.
And objectively it is inadvertently cruel.
Given the current narrative, what Jellal needed wasn’t forgiveness—it was clarity. A chance to understand his trauma. To say “I was manipulated, and I’m not evil—but I still carry the weight of what happened.”
He needed healing, not punishment. But the story gave him neither. Instead it gave him someone he loves, offering him grace for a crime he didn’t fully commit.
And not just Erza but all spheres of his life reiterate the same rhetoric, ‘to be grateful for the grace he’s receiving’, but never to actually question if that is what he actually needs or not.
That’s why the narrative feels so painful for some of us. Because Jellal isn’t healing—he’s stuck in a loop. And Erza, instead of breaking it, unintentionally cements it by never challenging the terms of his guilt.
It makes their dynamic feel less like mutual growth, and more like a beautiful prison.
But of course even this choice isn’t lossless because look at how the narrative affects them in ripples.
Jellal is stuck between never ceasing, never defined guilt, punishment and penance. Whilst Erza's emotions: her heartbreak, hesitation, healing, all become stifled and her forgiveness loses weight because Jellal is ‘not’ responsible for what she’s forgiving him for.
The whole dynamic becomes foggy and everyone loses out.
✦•
Ending Part 3, we have explored what the cost of avoiding accountability entails—not just for Jellal but also everything around him. Everytime his agency has been erased, the story has sacrificed tension for safety, but in doing so has created multiple emotional/plot and characteral holes with everything related to Jellal.
Of course there is another side of the argument, that what if victimhood framing wasn’t a narrative oversight, but an intentional choice, which I will be going into in Part 8:’ What If Jellal’s wasn’t accountable’, where I will be exploring the consequences of that choice and what the story becomes if this was all the original plan.
But for now, since we have explored how the narrative mishandled Jellal victimhood and we delved into Jerza last, we move forward to examine how this directly impacts Jerza as a relationship.
In Part 4, we’ll be looking at different angles: the emotional, thematic and relational consequences of this avoidance—and how Jerza's potential as a story of mutual healing is compromised when accountability is left off the table.
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Part 4: The Lack Of Accountability Hurts Jerza More Than Helping It
“You can’t build love on silence. And Jerza, as it stands, is two people haunted by things they never said.”
“Jerza’s love isn’t the problem. The story’s refusal to let them confront it is.”
Jerza is a relationship built on shared wounds. Trauma, love and regret form the foundation of their bond. But for a relationship carrying that much emotional weight, it demands an equal measure of emotional honesty to truly resonate.
Without accountability, that honesty never comes.
When Jellal’s actions are left unaddressed, and Erza is denied the space to process her pain, their dynamic becomes imbalanced. What could have been a story of mutual healing and growth becomes stuck— a relationship where one side carries the emotional labour, while the other remains trapped in guilt.
I would like to clarify though: this isn’t a question of whether Jerza’s love is real or not.
But it’s a question of whether the narrative allows that love to be fully realised — with clarity, agency and growth on both sides.
In this section, we’ll explore the different ways this avoidance hurts their dynamic: from emotional stagnation, to the illusion of resolution, to why their “romantic payoff” feels more symbolic than earned.
Because even the strongest and most timeless bonds need space to heal.
And without that space, love struggles to evolve.
A Relationship Built on Silence, Not Growth
One of the biggest narrative flaws in Jerza is how it rarely engages in real vulnerability. Meaning, their emotional connection often feels more symbolic rather than lived — a bond rooted in memory, in what they were, rather than what they are.
Instead of growing together, they orbit around unresolved pain.
Like we’ve established before — Erza forgives, Jellal feels guilty.
But neither of them truly confronts the heart of what happened.
It has been said in the previous parts, but I'll reiterate again given the build up for this section.
When Jellal isn’t allowed to take responsibility for the harm he caused, it leaves Erza in a suspended emotional state — always forgiving, never processing.
This tension remains beneath the surface, untouched, leaving their dynamic and growth stagnant.
Ironically, many fans fear that holding Jellal accountable would somehow make Jerza “toxic”, but the truth could not be more contrary. It’s the lack of accountability that is creating the imbalance, not the recognition of it.
Refusing to address the emotional wounds between them does not protect their relationship — rather it keeps it from evolving, and buries down the reality until it mutates into something away from the truth: ignorance and delusion that will only hurt both of them in the end.
Growth is the only thing that would stop this inevitability.
But growth is not born from silence.
It’s born from understanding and communication.
It is born from truth.
Something that is being kept from Jerza in favour of them looking whole rather than feeling whole.
Forgiveness ≠ Healing / The Illusion of Resolution
Another fundamental issue in Jerza’s dynamic is the way forgiveness is mistaken for healing.
Erza can — and does — forgive Jellal. But here’s the thing, forgiveness, on it’s own, is not a substitute for growth.
If Jellal never fully understands the weight of what he did, her forgiveness becomes hollow. It floats above unresolved hurt, disconnected from genuine resolution.
Also in regards to forgiveness, it only resonates when there’s a definite harm to forgive. Which in Jellal/Jerza’s case, this is not defined for them. And because of this missing explanation, Jerza becomes a relationship of emotional fog — gestures of love floating above wounds left unnamed and untold.
Without accountability, they’re not reconciling, instead they are pretending the fracture was never real.
And doing this holds them both back in ways I cannot emphasise enough.
If Jerza is meant to represent healing, healing requires self-awareness.
It demands that both parties confront the harm clearly, understand it and choose to grow beyond it.
But this conversation hasn’t even been a choice for Jerza. Not really. So how can we expect healing and growth to truly happen?
Without Jellal’s accountability, neither he nor Erza move forward.
Erza is left endlessly offering grace.
And Jellal remains trapped in guilt that he doesn’t know how to resolve.
Gestures of forgiveness may soothe the surface and smooth the narrative outwardly.
But without accountability, it never reaches the root.
Also one more thing I want to mention about the problem of forgiveness being used to bypass the emotional weight for Jerza’s history. By making Erza the automatic forgiver without her ever confronting her own hurt, she is reduced to a shortcut —an escapism — a convenient device to ‘resolve’ Jellal’s arc without the narrative engaging in the emotional work required.
Because it’s Erza, kind and beloved, we think this is a testament of her strength and character. But when you begin to tally up on how much Erza suffers for this and what she loses out on in her own emotional arc, it reads less as grace and more as a narrative bypass that undermines her emotional reality.
And for Erza, someone who has gone through so much pain already, she deserved this closure at least.
But it’s not being given to her in favour of keeping the story and their love neat and having it from explaining it’s complexity, rather than giving her own emotions clarity.
The “Romantic” Resolution Feels Forced
Now I am going to be a bit heavy with my words and directness here, but it’s because I want to give clarity to the perspective.
All these narrative choices that have been made, in some way, were done with the belief Jerza would benefit from it. That they would look cleaner, that Erza or Jellal would be saved from the scrutiny of loving each other despite their complex and tangled pasts.
Yet despite all this being done, something feels incomplete.
Forced.
As of now where the story stands, Jellal tells Erza in 100YQ he can love people freely now (i.e her)
— as if this statement alone completes his redemption. As if this was the arriving point.
But how did he get there?
The narrative takes him from suicidal despair and intense self-flagellation to offering affection, without showing the reckoning, growth or honest conversations that should bridge that gap. His inner journey is skipped, left to be almost entirely interpreted whilst Erza’s emotional needs are sidelined.
The story ‘tries’ to define what Jellal is sorry for based off our own understanding of him and his arc/descent but never give a clear answer of it. And to add to that, Jellal never defined what he is sorry for either.
We are told he is grieving for killing Simon, but then the story says he was never in control.
Jellal says he remembers everything he did, yet the story is telling us it wasn’t him.
He acts like he was the sole perpetrator or had a conscious part in his villainy, but the story agrees or denies that whenever convenient.
It’s always changing, it’s never clear.
And because of this, not just him but Erza also never gets the space to express her own feelings.
Her own needs.
The tension between them is being said to be resolved by a hug and a promise — but no clarity.
No actual resolution of all the emotional weight and battles they both have been carrying for years.
This isn’t catharsis.
It’s a shortcut.
The moment was designed to feel like healing, but instead feels hollowed out by the absence of emotional work. The story leans on their history and audience anticipation to create the illusion of closure, without actually earning it.
That’s something I want to make clear:
The problem here isn't that Jerza is finding peace.
It’s that the narrative is skipping the very process that would make the peace believable.
They deserve peace. Completely and truthfully.
But that is why the current narrative is being such a disservice to them.
Instead of giving them something concrete and real, it builds their bond up on illusion.
Inference.
Their bond isn’t really theirs anymore but what others and the world around them dictate it to be.
And because of this, both Jellal and Erza’s emotional journeys are overlooked.
Beyond Jellal’s guilt, nothing is meaningfully explored.
The impact of his actions? Erza’s internal conflict? Their shared trauma?
All left untouched.
And when that emotional groundwork is missing, their “romantic resolution” feels less like a culmination — and more like a box being ticked.
We’ll be revisiting the larger trope of ‘Love as a Cure-All’ later in Part 7: The Dangers of “Love Fixes Everything”.
But for now, this is all about how it’s hurting Jerza.
Love Without Agency Is Not Love at All…
This is when my words will get a bit cutting again, and I apologise for the discomfort that may follow because of them.
Most (if not all) the narrative direction has been done in the name of love. But, because of how the narrative has straddled the truth, emotional growth and understanding between them, it risks mutating the very base into something else.
A debt.
Why?
When accountability is removed from the equation, Jellal’s love for Erza — as true as it has been — risks becoming little more than apology.
And Erza’s love, in turn, becomes a mission to save him — rather than a shared emotional journey.
What started as genuine affection and selflessly, turns into an expected condition (i.e. debt) when guilt and emotional responsibility is the driving force and not truth and clarity. Love becomes a labor, not that it stops being true, but the surrounding reality overtakes and begins to define it over what it was born from.
But the thing with Jerza, love rooted in guilt and obligation was not what made them resonate.
Their bond has always had the potential to be about choice — two people choosing to face their pain and choosing to heal together.
Letting Jellal take ownership of his actions would not just give back his agency, but Erza’s too.
They would no longer be clinging to each other out of shared tragedy.
They would be choosing each other — fully, consciously, with the weight of their past acknowledged and addressed.
Because let’s be real—
If Jellal did nothing wrong, what is Erza even forgiving?
If there is no real fracture, then there’s nothing to rebuild from.
And that makes their entire history —their entire journey — feel hollow.
To love truly and truthfully, it requires agency.
Not convenience, not erasure.
Spotlighting Erza’s Pain Doesn’t Fix It
We’ve spoken about the flaws highlighted in Jerza’s dynamic and both Jellal and Erza’s respective emotional arcs caused by the lack of clarity between them. And of course the question comes up, how would this all be fixed?
There was an argument I came across, that the way to fix this would be to spotlight Erza’s pain more: to give her more screen time, more emotional breakdowns, more space to grieve openly and dramatic moments to somehow “balance” the dynamic. More of her perspective — as if this alone somehow would make Jellal’s redemption, and Jerza as a whole, feel more complete.
But pain alone does not equal depth.
I agree that Erza’s emotional journey is incomplete and sidelined, but injecting her pain into the narrative does not fix anything nor the core problem.
I will explain why.
I went over this point a bit at the end of Part 2, but here I'll really get into it.
If Jellal still lacks a defined sin, if he is never allowed to take true ownership or gain clarity over his actions, then spotlighting Erza’s suffering does nothing to address the root issue.
Her pain then becomes martyrdom, not growth.
A spectacle rather than a step towards healing.
Because what exactly is Jellal meant to respond to?
If he doesn’t understand what he’s apologising for, how can he meet Erza’s pain with anything other than vague guilt?
There’s no reckoning. No resolution. Just two characters circling the same wound — one expressing it, the other drowning in undefined remorse.
His redemption stays symbolic.
Her hurt stays unresolved.
And here’s the uncomfortable truth:
What are more dramatic scenes going to accomplish if the one who hurt her isn’t even being allowed to understand he played a part in it? How can Erza’s pain have a place in his doing if the narrative itself exempts his name from it?
All it does is push him further into a guilt spiral — without direction, without agency.
Her emotions are put on display, glorified in their pain, whilst his remain a narrative mystery.
This isn’t creating balance.
It’s just avoidance, repackaged as emotional weight.
This is why I say this:
They don’t need theatre.
They need clarity.
They need a conversation.
Anything else would just add to the noise already existing between them.
✦✦✦ ⨂ ✦✦✦
As we reach the end of this section, the message I am trying to hone in on is that Jerza’s emotional imbalance isn’t really romantic — it’s unresolved.
Without accountability between them, their love becomes a cycle of guilt and silence, not a foundation for healing or growth. And the result is a relationship that looks meaningful on the surface, but lacks the emotional groundwork to sustain it.
True love requires honesty.
Without it, Jellal can’t grow.
Erza can’t heal.
And their bond remains a fragile illusion of what it could have been.
They do not need forgiveness without truth.
They need accountability, agency and a chance to speak.
Having now explored the rooted damage that the lack of accountability causes, we will be shifting focus — to what could have been. Part 5 will be detailing the ‘Missed Opportunity’ the narrative passed over: how Jerza’s dynamic, Jellal’s redemption and Erza’s healing could have grown organically through the simple, necessary act and inclusion of accountability.
Though before we move on, it’s worth addressing a potential counterpoint:
If the story is so broken by the lack of accountability, wouldn’t it make more sense to rewrite it entirely — to make it cleaner, less problematic, or less messy?
And in some ways, that’s exactly what the story does — both in-universe and in how it’s often received.
For example:
Rewriting Jellal’s past to make him less culpable (e.g., “he wasn’t in control,” “he didn’t choose any of it,” etc.)
Softening or omitting the darker parts of their history, so the relationship becomes easier to romanticize
Avoiding accountability altogether by reframing the narrative to skip over emotional consequences
We see these approaches especially in the story after the Tower of Heaven arc — and, frankly, in fandom discourse as well.
This is where I believe the shift begins to fracture the narrative’s logic — introducing emotional disruption, character dilution, and thematic undermining. The cracks begin to show, not just in plot but in emotional continuity, leading to the extreme polarity we now see around the ship and its characters.
These narrative shortcuts that are bulletpointed above may have made the story more palatable, but in doing so, they strip away the very foundation that gave Jerza its emotional weight in the first place.
And that’s what brings us to the next subsection.
Jerza Requires A Continuity, Not A Reset
“Jerza’s emotional journey doesn’t need to be rewritten. It needs to be continued—with honesty, not amnesia.”
“They are not broken, they are miswritten.”
Emotional continuity matters
Changing the story might avoid the current problem, but then it loses the essence of what Jerza was built on and what Jellal and Erza have carried.
Another bypass in a way.
But in the case that Jellal is given clear accountability, then everything Erza feels and has felt — her anger, betrayal, protectiveness, hesitation, trauma— makes sense. Those emotions have a direct cause. Their relationship has a real rupture that can be repaired and explored, not replaced by a vague “reset” where everyone is relearning who they are.
This is not bias.
This is narrative integrity.
Starting from zero is narratively weaker
When a story tries to force healing by ‘wiping the slate clean’ (i.e in Jellal’s case “he wasn’t in control, it wasn’t his fault”), it erases the emotional stakes that were already in place. It also creates a weird dissonance here—Erza remembers everything, feels everything, and yet the story tries to absolve Jellal completely, which undercuts the emotional payoff.
If he is accountable, then their emotional journey continues organically from where it left off. You’re not saying “start over.” You’re saying: let them move forward from what actually happened, not from a rewritten version of it.
It allows trust to be rebuilt through earned steps
Not through “forgive and forget,” but through confrontation, growth, and emotional honesty. That is what makes reconciliation meaningful. That is how maturity is shown within relationships and how it should be portrayed.
Sentiments like “forgive and forget” only resonate when closure has truly been reached internally and understandably, otherwise it impacts like avoidance.
It might sound like a biased take on everything I've been saying, but really this whole post is a call for stronger writing, stronger character work. And a more emotionally satisfying arc.
All things that accountability solves.
✦•
Rather than rewriting the story from the ground up to smooth out these kinks or trying to sanitise or reset them, adding this truth allows their past to be heard, their future to continue and their emotions to remain valid. The eventual connection would be built on earned understanding not forced absolution.
Letting them work through their past— no matter how messy, twisted and hurtful it was — will not weaken their bond.
But avoiding it will make that inevitable.
It’s the hard conversations that will truly heal both of them, and give them the closure they deserve despite how bitter they can be. Sweet words and gestures can only absorb within when the core is healed, otherwise they just float on the surface, accepted in the moment, rejected in mind.
With all that being said, now we go into Part 5.
The missed opportunity.
✦ Continue on to Part III: (End of Section I)
→ The Lost Arc – What Could Have Been
✦ Return to Part I:
← Jellal’s Accountability & Erza’s Emotional Cost
So there was a note under my post about Zim hovering a finger over the self destruct switch on his first day on Earth that just cracked open something in my mind.
Cause…Oh. Oh hecc you, @murhuedur. You actually touched on like, my favorite thing about this character, period. I really like this take, I do. It’s a good one. I ponder, still,
In my own opinion, it’s actually genuine confidence and arrogance, but Zim’s delusions of grandeur are as a thin rubber band. They can stretch out to wild lengths and remain malleable enough to bend around truth as he wills,
But there’s a hard limit out there eventually, and should reality require him to stretch his cognitive dissonance just too far, it’s a violent snap-back to full clarity. I don’t think he’s faking it or always lying to everyone else about what hot shit he is, because I think he fully believes those lies about as fast as he can speak them, even if he will later realize he was wrong after a cosmic punch to the face.
Like, Zim’s smart, but smart people aren’t inherently rational ones. Within Zim, the tallest, hell, maybe even Skoodge, there’s sometimes this very short-sighted flippancy about what is objectively true/false that peeks out every now and again in their psychology. I mean, humans sometimes do this too when it’s convenient to their interests, just, obviously not to goofy cartoon character levels if they want to function in society.
Zim has whatever this flaw is and cranked up to 11, maybe as a side effect of his PAK defects. Sometimes it gets him into DEEP shit, but it’s also his biggest mental shield. Zim has like no fortitude against spiraling into a full on depression or a justifiable panic attack over the smallest concession of being an absolute failure to his race. That weaponized denial that makes him so dangerous to himself and others also keeps him together and motivated forward. But it’s not largely a conscious lie he’s telling himself. It’s genuine faith he’s trying to manifest into matter through sheer force of his will.
His dogmatic mantra, “I am Zim” and what it means to him is a statement he holds on such conviction it overpowered and hijacked the ego of 3 control brains at once.
If I were inserting him into DnD he’d have the wisdom stat of a stale poptart and a 20+ thrown into charisma. He’s faking it without even understanding he’s faking it.
But were he completely detached from reality, he’d be WAY more likely than even now to accidentally get himself killed. While a narcissistic level of self esteem is what lets him ignore and selectively unhear inconvenient truths, the adrenaline of immediate life or death danger is what grounds him back in the real world. You notice over time that as self-sabotaging as he normally is, he seems to act his most rational and competent when he’s suddenly put against the grindstone and self preservation HAS to jump into the driver’s seat. He basically survives his day to day on a tightrope between a falsely glorious narrative of himself, and his perceptive anxiety both tugging him to land on either side of the fence when something big happens.
In “The Trial”, he wastes very little time on his expected bullshit or his confidence in being able to just win over the approval of his judges.. by virtue of being his awesome self. He spent most of that ordeal on the verge of a heart attack, squirmed to find an escape, and actually tried to DENY causing the death of two Almighty Tallests (reminder that he usually owns up to his atrocities with downright offensive pride). He understood the full gravity of an existence evaluation and how cooked his goose was. As soon as the situation resolves and he’s no longer in that danger, it’s right back to full trust of his status as an invader, and in Red and Purple as his biggest fans. When his disguise starts to slip in front of Skool kids he knows are dumb as a bag of rocks, he can silver tongue his way around that without skipping a beat. Losing his disguise in front of a bunch of alien-obsessed adults? Uh oh, pants-shitting terror, this is potentially game-over levels of bad, immediately gtfo of here. Stand there, chest beat, and scold the obviously rogue duty-mode Gir all day until the second it actually tries to kill you and you suddenly have to realize you’re not the one holding the cards anymore to save your own life.
The other way this quirk of his really shows through is in his selective memory. Zim has this skill to repress down and push away unpleasant experiences that I think some of us can only dream we had. I love it because it’s equal parts a comedic and analytical goldmine.
Tak, who actually posed a legit threat to his entire mission and tried herself to chip through that massive wall of denial he’s shielded in- same Tak who’s powerful af ship was stolen and desecrated by Zim’s arch nemesis… she’s not just an afterthought in his mind after that mess. He’s literally pushed that one out of his thoughts altogether in the comics. Like she, and Skoodge, who he can’t fucking stand, might as well have never even existed, even while GIR’s trying to remind him. That time he played around with time travel and it was one of the biggest clusterfucks he quickly lost control of? The bologna incident he stooped so low as to ask dib to help him with? You must be thinking of someone else. Nope. Not a thing. Lalala, can’t even hear you. This is also what makes it no wonder he deeply struggles with actually learning from certain mistakes.
From an outsider’s eye this behavior of his is baffling. It makes him look actually insane or at least obnoxiously obstinate. And I think both assumptions are half right, because this is clearly not the result of mere stupidity. Those truths are simply wayyyy too discordant with his view of himself to devote surface memory to, or too uncomfortable, unless and until, of course, you confront him with them in a fashion where that rubber band has to snap, that bubble pops, and he instantly sobers out of that complacency.
Literally god forbid he ever stops being defective in this way or is given the ability to reckon with the reality of his situation and his history all at once. I’m not even just talking about his job or banishment. I’m talking about his entire life. This chaotic, flexible, incoherent mindstate is the only branch he’s holding onto from dropping into a much more horrifying chasm beneath himself, the depth of which we can only guess. I straight up have no idea what he would do or what could happen to him if he could, even for a moment, rationally comprehend his every action, memory, and empirical truth all at the same time. Seriously, leave that Pak’s Gordian Knot be, or I imagine there could be an HP Lovecraft type of breakdown in the making.
#By the way this is probably one of the most important differences between him and Dib, and what makes Zib so… way he is.
If there was a word to define Medic it would be possessive.,
Possessive of his birds, his tools, his experiments. And people. Once you are deemed one of "his" people he gets possessive. Whether you are family, a friend, a coworker, or a patient, he is possessive of you. He watches you, and keeps an eye on you. That's how he is with the mercs. Every time Scout tries to hide an injury, whenever Spy or Sniper try to hide their sickness, or when Engineer cuts or burns himself, Medic knows. He scolds them for hurting themselves then fixes the problem, cause they are his. It gets invasive and down right creepy at times.
So the moment that the Host is put under his care, that possessiveness rears its head. When they first started working with them, Host avoided most of them, except for Pyro and Scout, and Soldier, sometimes. Medic didn't really care. He didn't really hate the Host, but he didn't appreciate them spying on him and his coworkers. He also wasn't happy that they basically stole one of HIS experiments (Sugarbean). But once Miss Pauling told him that Host would be under his Medical care, he had to care somewhat. He viewed the Host more as a unwanted pet to an extent. He didn't want them, but they needed to be taken care of. He would watch them, try to understand their movements, when they hurt themselves, when they were feeling under the weather, and try to help them.
Which was easier said then done because Host began to vehemently avoid Medic after the announcement. Even when Medic had them corned, Sugarbean would began to snap and growl at him, giving the Host an opening to escape. It started out annoying, then it began to anger him. The irritation and frustration boiled under his skin as he was continuously denied. Then the Host became ill and refused to take care of themselves. Even as their fever continued to rise, they would brush off any concern and continued to "power through it" (They almost passed out twice)After that Medic decided it was time to stop being passive.
He got Scout and Pyro to distract Sugarbean while he went after the Host. It worked, but not the way he wanted it to. Host still ran, and he had to chase them down leading to them screaming in fear. Something about keeping their organs. It did end as intended thought, with Medic carrying a sick, babbling Host to the Medbay. Where they were promptly gentle placed thrown onto the sick bed while Medic snapped at them.
"Dummkopf, stop struggling. Vhat is running going to do for you? You already have a high fever. You vill only make it vorse! I am not going to hurt you! If I promise not to do more than necessary vhile you please stop."
The Host paused, breathing hard, their masked slipping down their sweaty face. The could only nod as they settled into the seat. Medic finally took a moment to breathe before he began flitting around the room grabbing items to start diagnosing the Host.
As he took their temperature he said, " Ve don't have to like each other, but understand that since you are under my care, it is my job. And I take pride in my job. So, here is the deal. Ve only need to interact during your appointments, other than that you can ignore me as much you Vant. Deal."
"Deal"
And that was their relationship for a while. Medic watched the Host from afar and made sure they were taken care of at the bare minimum. Until there was a specific match that Medic carried.
The heavy hitters were down and Medic took charge and got the final push in. The Mercs went back ready to relax, when they heard the Host and Miss Pauling talking about the match and Host sounded... excited? They all looked at each other and got closer.
" Did you see how he took out that solider AND scout!!! He was on a roll the whole match. He UBERED HIMSELF!!! I didn't know he could do that!!"
Medic couldn't help but be flattered. He understood that Host was weary of them. They had good reason to be. So he never thought that they would praise any of them besides Pyro and Scout. He later asked Miss Pauling of a recording of the match for him to listen to. The others also sat around to listen
None of them had ever really cared to listen to what the Host had to say about them until now. Pyro seemed giddy at everyone sitting to listen, and Scout had a knowing smirk on his face. Soldier began to babble on about how Host was a true American supporting their cause. They were the only ones besides Engineer, who sat in his sit quietly who regularly listened to the Host broadcast.
Medic ended up enjoying himself. He was in awe with how excited the Host seemed when watching them. They were so passionate, they were excited for their wins and sad for their loses.
Medic sat in his room in silence after the recording was over. He started to view Host in a different light after this. Maybe they were more useful than he had originally thought. If that was how they spoke ever game, then maybe the Administrator had the right idea with how to better their public image. He tried to talk to them more, and come off a bit softer to make them more comfortable. They were already his, but it would be better if they viewed him in a better light. Especially if they could be useful to him later down the road.
This was so much longer than I was originally trying to make it. Anyway this is a semi-deep dive into the Medic and his relationship with the Host. He isn't the best person, but he is reliable. I want to do this with all the Mercs, so if you have someone you want to see next let me know!
9S, arms folded, tone calm but with edge:
“Warning shots,” he added helpfully. “The next ones won’t be.”
He tilted his head slightly, eyes scanning the room like he was watching training dummies.
“Pod, initiate new protocol. Anyone within the vicinity makes a physical gesture followed by words like ‘Bankai,’ ‘Hadō,’ or ‘Bakudō’—open fire. Same goes for dramatic chanting or flashy weapon draws. Got it?”
“Confirmed. New threat detection parameters set: trigger on incantation behavior,” Pod 153 replied.
2B, not even glancing up: “Apply the same to yours, Pod.”
“Acknowledged,” both Pods replied—in unison, like twin guillotines.
9S gave a slight smirk.
“They all fight the same way. Blade up. Chant. Pause. Then power.”
He shrugged.
“It’s like they want to die. Might as well be reading from a spellbook.”
The room froze.
Shunsui’s hat tilted just a little lower.
Rukia and Renji stiffened.
Tōshirō’s pupils shrank.
Byakuya blinked—just once.
(In Byakuya terms, that was full-blown panic.)
A2, casually flipping her blade: “I don’t care what technique you’re using if I can stab you before you finish saying it.”
9S, watching Renji do his 18-line bankai monologue:
"Why do they narrate their own powers out loud? Isn’t that... counterintuitive?"
2B, dryly:
"It’s like they’re trying to lose."
A2, arms crossed:
"Explain less. Kill more."
Pod 153, analytically:
"Observation: Verbal exposition precedes most power activations. Estimated delay window: 3.7 seconds. Recommended response: preemptive strike."
9S, smirking:
"So basically... we’re faster because we don’t stop to explain our loadout to the enemy like it’s a conference panel."
