jason discourse is kinda confusing me rn like have some of you never taken a literature class? i dont think anyones trying to argue that jason is 100% intentionally written as ethnically ambiguous or a passionate feminist but like the text could be interpreted to support those narratives and its fun to explore that
like this is basic media analysis i feel so crazy. yeah starlin prolly didnt think abt it that hard but what if he did? can you prove he didnt? theres subtext in starlins run, especially aditf, that leaves room for these discussions from both the doylist and watsonian viewpoints. its fun to examine the things you read, its good to consider and think through perspectives you may not favor or agree with. characters are narrative tools, theyre not real people, and whats great about that is it means we get to crack them open and inspect every part of them through an infinite number of lenses; we get to investigate them and the purpose they serve, the messages they deliver, the experiences they reflect, and thats fun, thats the whole point
it is so boring to live life taking everything at face value. it is so boring to read stories at only a surface level. read what you want, dig as deep as you like, thats the beauty of personal interpretation and art in general. but i dont understand why its such an issue if ppl want to dig deeper than you. i dont understand why its such an issue if ppl interpret smth differently than you did. i dont understand why you need to establish objectivity in the realm of subjectivity
Summary: In his eyes, you were perfect—just the way you are. Untouched by the constraints of his world, unshaped by the rules that bound him. You were not crafted by fate, nor written into existence like he was. You were real. Beyond him.
Yet, in his heart, he knew the truth.
You were his. Not the girl standing before him. Not the one he could see, hear, and touch. No matter how much she resembled you, no matter how much she tried to be you—she wasn’t.
Because his heart had already chosen. And it had always belonged to you.
Mimi~: Pls read this first! O3O↠ right here!
Warning: Erm, it's bad as usual. Thought this could help if you were sad about the first one ehe. It might be confusing now.
He stares blankly at the girl before him, searching for something that isn’t there. Her eyes hold no spark—empty, lifeless. He waits, hoping, longing for a flicker of light to return. But it isn’t her eyes he wants to see shine.
No, the spark he seeks belongs to someone else—someone out there, beyond his reach. And behind those dull, vacant eyes, he sees the truth. It isn’t her he’s looking at. It’s you. The real you. The one he can never touch.
And then, for the briefest moment, her eyes sparkled—locking onto his. It stole his breath away. His heart clenched, caught between longing and the painful truth he refused to face.
This was it. It was beginning.
With slow, deliberate steps, he moved closer, each one making his chest ache as though something inside him was cracking with every inch he closed between them. But he swallowed the pain, forcing a gentle smile onto his lips. It had to be convincing. It had to look real.
He stood before her now, his gaze steady, unwavering. But he wasn’t looking at her—no, not truly. His eyes searched, desperate to catch a glimpse of you. To find some trace of the one he truly longed for, hidden behind the unfamiliar face in front of him.
The girl’s hands begin to move, reaching toward him. He exhales softly, closing his eyes for just a moment—a quiet wish slipping through his mind.
Let this girl be you someday.
A cold touch grazes his skin, delicate fingertips tracing his face. The chill sends a shiver down his spine, yet he doesn’t pull away. Slowly, he opens his eyes, only to find the girl smiling up at him.
What a gentle touch…
Then, he hears it—a chuckle, light and fleeting, yet it does not belong to the girl before him. It drifts through the room, a ghostly echo weaving through the silence. His breath stills.
The moment his eyes shut, he let himself sink into the illusion. He wished—no, begged—to feel your warmth instead of the cold, artificial touch spreading across his skin. If only, just for a second, it could be real.
As he slowly opened his eyes, he caught the gleam in hers—brighter now, almost as if something alive flickered within them. He held her gaze for a moment longer before shifting his attention to the mirror. He smiled at the work you did.
"You look more goofy."
The voice wasn’t hers. It never was. It echoed faintly, teasingly, curling around him like a whisper from someone just out of reach.
A smirk tugged at his lips.
"Why you…"
He looks into her eyes once more as she gently wipes the product from his face. Then he sees it. A subtle tremble in her gaze, a glimmer threatening to spill over. You're trying to hold it back The way her eyes shine—it’s not just from the light. It’s something deeper, something raw, something breaking. He saw your reflection behind those eyes. He knew at that moment, that he wasn't looking at her.
He’s looking through her. Finally seeing You.
His fingers linger against her cheek, the warmth beneath them feeling both real and wrong. His touch is gentle, but his heart is anything but. It pounds violently against his ribs, caught between longing and the unbearable ache of reality.
His gaze remains locked onto hers, but he isn’t seeing her. He’s seeing past her. Through her. Searching, desperate, hoping that within those eyes, he will find you.
But you aren’t truly there.
And yet, your voice lingers in the air like a ghost, wrapping around him, pulling him deeper into a world that neither of you can truly touch.
"My Sylus…"
His breath shudders. His chest tightens.
He knows you aren’t here. He knows this moment is fleeting, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.
But still, with the lightest trace of his thumb beneath her tear-streaked eyes, he allows himself to whisper a silent plea. His voice wavers, yet his words are steady—woven with something deeper than longing, something heavier than grief. "If you were also an art piece, then whoever created you… must have loved you dearly." But those words… They are not meant for the girl before him. Not for the presence that exists within arm’s reach, yet feels so distant. No—those words are for you.
Only you. Always you.
And no matter how many times he speaks them, no matter if he says something he truly meant, it was always meant to be yours.
He hoped that you would realize that, but reality struck that he was just a fictional character to you.
Mimi~: Tbh I was supposed to let it be but, I want to add Sylus's point of view on this;w;
Me: *talking about Yu-Gi-Oh in a random Discord server*
Someone: Yeah isn't Seto Kaiba like a massive douchebag?
Me: Yeah but you gotta understand why he's like that. He literally lost both his parents as a little boy and his brother was only like 3, they both got adopted by a rich bastard who abused him and taught him that to lose means death and he never really had a healthy, stable childhood or any friends. Anyone who's gone through that kind of trauma isn't gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. The dude needs serious therapy but isn't likely to go receive it.
That same someone: Wow that's depressing at shit, thanks for bringing down the house, you dipshit.
A different someone replying to them: Bro you fucking ASKED-
A second different someone replying to me: Honestly props to Kaiba for surviving that garbage, holy shit.
