#He is more powerful and important than the original pact intended

[zaceouiswriting]

Lost Love

Character: Derek Hale x male reader, Death/Dea (original) x male reader, mentioned Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore, and Eli Hale. (Scott never gets a mention)

Universe: Teen Wolf

Warnings: None

Authors note: Hello. I've finally dealt with another request, (Only three months after receiving it, I'm really late with my requests) and well, I may have to apologize. I had a lot of creative issues with it, from the timeline to all of the characters that were supposed to be involved. I might also forget a character, but since it's been three months, I don't feel like rewriting everything again. So I’m sorry @arekmaximoffkq but I hope you can enjoy it anyway.

"We can't win this alone!" That was a statement no one would have ever expected from their fearless True Alpha. No one ever thought that Scott McCall could feel hopeless by a threat. That was until the Legions of Darkness and the Hunters under Monroe, who could never be stopped, made a pact. It was a fragile one considering the Legions are supernaturals.

Either way, they found a common enemy. Scott McCall. Although the Legions have made massive strides to dominate the world, beginning in North America, he causes them too many problems with his alliance network.

"Before anyone says anything, I've already asked the Asian Dragons Alliance and United European Tribes, but apart from a few smaller groups within them, they can't help us much. They also fight the Legion on their continents.”

"We've never lost to anyone, Scott. Why should it be any different this time.”

"Because he's not here anymore, Liam." Derek was the one who reminded everyone of what had happened nearly fifteen years ago.

The room went silent from one moment to the next. A deadly atmosphere hung over their heads. Liam couldn't understand what was happening. He never understood when his pack went silent like this after something remembered them about someone he never got to know.

Lydia was the only one who never looked as sad as the others, she always did her best to look that way, but if people watched her closely, they could tell the subtle difference. She was also the only one who offered to help Liam and the other people who weren't around at the time.

Everyone accepted, even if it was just about getting out of the room. In Scott's kitchen, she was surrounded by a larger group, all staring at her, desperate for answers. And she told the tragic story. About her husband being possessed by a Nogitsune, causing him to more or less kill several people.

Scott had saved his girlfriend Allison but instead damned Derek's fiancé. The sword intended for the archer pierced the older man who was there only to protect the youths. Before Derek could reach him, his body dissolved, hatred in his eyes as he died. But worse, it didn't save Allison for long because just moments later, as she nocked another arrow on her bow, she was stabbed from behind and died in Scott's arms.

Since then, Derek hasn't been able to look Scott directly in the eye without wanting to kill him. Instead of just one death that day, there were two. And one of those deaths was so much more important than the other. Allison was just a formidable archer but useless in the long run. Even Lydia had to admit that as her best friend.

Derek’s fiancé - a powerful mage - did everything for them, protecting and even making sure that the threats they faced never got out of control.

To say the next generation wasn't impressed would be an understatement. They always looked up to Scott, his supposedly strong moral compass. But now they knew his true intentions; selfishness.

Lydia knew from day one you saw Scott for the vile person he actually is. She only saw it after a few years of being separated from him. Being under the same roof with him now made her sick. She could only see her best friend's dead face and Derek's broken face.

Now more and more people have been able to see it, although it doesn't change anything because Scott is still their Alpha. But at least now they know that most of his decisions are selfish and not for the greater good.

"So what can we do?" Mason asked Lydia, slowly getting restless himself.

The look she gave him, and the whole group spoke all the necessary words. "I don't think we can do anything. We can only hope it doesn't get any worse."

Lydia should never have said those words. Mere days later, the sudden appearance of the Oni, quickly followed by the Nogitsune they thought had been killed, and then someone who broke their fragile pack even more apart.

She had no choice but to get help herself.

With the rest of the pack still at home, Scott tried to keep everything together while getting his Allison back. Lydia was in Jackson's car with him and his husband. "Who are you looking for anyway? I thought the supernatural council already told Scott we couldn't help."

But she said nothing. Not ready to say anything.

Ethan had the idea right away, but his husband didn't. Jackson kept nudging Lydia. To the point where his husband put his hand over his babbling mouth before Lydia would overturn the car.

They spent the rest of their journey in absolute silence until they came to a private road. "Please wait here. Don't follow me, and please don't ruin this, okay?" Without even waiting for an answer, she exited the car.

As she walked up the street in high heels, her arrival could be heard far out. She never intended to be secretive, which worked well enough for her.

She could feel the heavy air everywhere, filled with so much raw magical power that she kept marveling that the animals that lived there didn't suffocate. For example, she never had trouble breathing, but once she got there, she could never take a single proper breath.

“If this is not Lydia Martin. We haven’t seen each other in a couple of years!“ Your voice suddenly called out to the banshee. Already used to your antics, she turned around but could not see you immediately. “Turn around again.“

And she did, slowly, but she did. With a big smile, you stood before her, a crown of flowers with red and white roses, without thorns in your hands. Without hesitation, you crowned her again as you normally do whenever she comes by.

"You never change, do you?"

"Nope." With another big smile, you pulled Lydia into your arms. "It's so nice to see you again!" After their brief hug, he put her arm around his. "Now tell me why you are here. Our next meeting was only a few months away.”

Lydia would have been a fool to think you didn't smell the need for her to come to you so early. She was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them.

"A lot of things happen, and I know you don't like it when I talk around, so I'll just ask you. Could you come and-"

"Dad!" The panicked voice of one of your sons jerked you away from Lydia. Before you could react, however, your two sons stood before you and Lydia, with someone you knew and someone you didn't. "We found these intruders and- Aunt Lydia, what are you doing here?"

"You two have grown." She was utterly surprised to see them standing so tall, which made her slightly uneasy, knowing she would have many questions that the man she was meeting would most likely won't like.

Luckily Jackson - who was brought by one of my sons - was doubled-over from feeling sick because of the teleportation.

Shaking your head in amusement, you couldn't hold back your snarky thought: "Jackson, are you still not used to this?" Your voice froze him in his tracks.

Slowly, very slowly, almost scarily he raised his head, his eyes though still fixated on the floor. Standing almost straight again he still did not dare look at you. Lydia told him that he could and with her reassurance he finally did. His eyes quickly filled with tears as he locked them with yours. His baby-blue eyes shimmered with shock but in a happy way.

Without warning, he lunged forward at a pace neither your sons nor you could do anything about. He pulled you into his arms, much more muscular than you remembered. Now he feels and looks a lot like a young Derek. Thinking about him always made you sad, which not only your sons felt this time.

Only Jackson was apparently unaware of this. "This is Ethan, my husband!" he told you excitedly, smiling cheek to cheek, ignoring the fact that you were not dead and standing still alive in front of him.

You gently cupped his face, which now looked much older than yours. Just another curse of your existence. "I will meet your handsome husband in a moment. But before, how are you and your parents?" His face darkened. "You forgot what you promised me, didn't you?" Shame crossed his face for a short moment. He became the little boy you met when you moved to Beacon Hills, who just found out he was adopted again.

You saved him from getting hit by a car, talked to him, and brought him back to his parents in the evening. For years you tried to get him to see them for who they are; but you were unsuccessful. You finally got through his thick skull, but you died before Jackson, his parents, and you could meet again.

"Then we must do it soon. They are not getting any younger and deserve to be loved by you. After all, they raised you. But I also have to blame them for spoiling you little shit!�� You jokingly shook his head with your hands, ruffling his perfect hair. It eventually brought a small smile to his face.

Booping his nose brought back many sweet memories with little Jackson and even moody teenager Jackson. Slowly you pulled your hands away from him. In the same movement, he turned and looked at the other man, who finally rose from his slouching position.

"Ethan is your name, right?" you asked in a dangerously low voice that sent a cold sweat down his son's back. He nodded and swallowed hard. "I think this little rascal over here told you about me?" You glanced back and forth at the couple with a raised eyebrow.

"My big brother," Jackson whispered to his husband to refresh his memory. Suddenly, Ethan's eyes widened with shock and realization.

His body suddenly went stiff. He even held out his hand to most likely properly greet you. 

“Hey, little brat?“

“Yes?“

"How come you've got not only a handsome man but also a well-mannered one while still being the same obnoxious brat?"

He could see your cheeky, teasing grin that had torn holes in his heart so many times before, believing the hurtful things you said until you made it clear it wasn't meant like that.

However, Ethan knew nothing about it.

"Because Jackson is an amazing man, passionate, gentle, romantic-"

"He didn't mean it like that. He complimented us both."

"What? He attacked you!"

Both Jackson and you looked at each other, giggling at his words. "Brat is my nickname for him because that's what I called him the first we met. He is and remains obnoxious to me because although he has a hard, unfriendly demeanor on the outside, he has a heart of gold. I'm just glad he hasn't changed."

Horror filled Ethan's eyes as you explained the rather adorable things you had to say about his husband. You could see that he wanted to fall into a hole right then and there.

Without a word, you suddenly stood before him and put one of your hands on his cheek. "If you hurt my little boy, I will kill you and destroy your body on a molecular level, dissolve you, and destroy every memory anyone ever had of you, understood?"

At first, he seemed amused by the innocuous-sounding threat, but when he looked into your eyes, he knew it wasn't a joke. Eyes wide, you pulled him into a hug. "Welcome to the family!" In your arms, you whispered something else in his ear, a threat he couldn't ignore, but you made sure no one else could hear.

As you pulled away smiling, Jackson smiled too without looking at his husband, who looked pale, horrified at you.

"Now, can someone explain why you're all here?"

“Scott needs your help.“

"No." You turn and motion for your boys to come with you. Even though they were intrigued by the name Lydia mentioned, they followed you anyway.

"We need your help," Jackson pointed out. Looking into your eyes melted your heart a little, but you still couldn't.

With gentle eyes, you looked at the boy who was like a little brother to you. You still had to say it, even though you didn't want to: "No. I'm sorry, but I can't." 

Jackson's face twisted, hurt at my refusal to help him. "If you had asked me, I would have done it immediately, but not with this boy and possibly the man who let me die." Suddenly the ground shook under your words, and time flew by, just for you to reverse it again.

"No one would be safe without your help!" Lydia tried again, but you waved your hand and teleported her back to their vehicle. Your boys wanted to know what it was about, but you couldn't tell them. They only know the bare minimum, and you want it to stay that way.

Days went by without Lydia trying to contact you again. You have feared for the safety of those who have been good to you, but you cannot save them every time they get into trouble. You were working on the ranch when you felt something strange.

One moment you were standing in one of the barns, and the next at the edge of your property. "What do you two are doing there?"

Your sons were jumping around in utter fear. One of the few rules they have to follow is that they can't leave the property without you.

"We have to help them!" the elder twin said bluntly while his younger brother had his eyes on the floor.

"You want to see your father, don't you?" That question silenced him immediately. "Don't worry. He won't die. He's like a cockroach. He comes out of everything with a few little bruises and maybe a few wounds.”

But they were determined to help Scott's pack. You could see it in his eyes and later even in his brother's eyes when he finally looked up at you. When they saw your eyes glow purple, magical energy flowed around you, and a moment later, the bubble that kept the ranch hidden from supernatural beings. It as well saved it from natural disasters.

They stared at you in surprise as your eyes went back to normal. "Then go. But not with all your abilities. You can teleport to them but not back or anywhere. Your powers will be minimal."

After that, you just disappeared, hurt, disappointed, and proud simultaneously. Being able to feel your boys teleport away, a strange pain immediately filled your chest. At first, slowly, and then suddenly, you winded in pain. Somehow able to suppress it, you walked back into your house, taking a book out, trying to just forget about it.

Just a sentence in, you were unable to concentrate anymore. For minutes you just stared at the filled pages before you threw it away, awaiting to hear it land on the floor.

All the alarm bells went off in your head at once because that sound never came. Ready to rip some heads off, you were suddenly frozen in place. "Finally, we meet again!"

"That's impossible!" you called out loudly through clenched teeth. "I killed you!"

Suddenly there was a child in front of you and next to him a middle-aged man. "You killed one of us and we want his powers back, you filthy mortal!"

The child was about to touch you. His small hand was outstretched to do whatever he wanted to you when suddenly a spear pierced his head. Blood splattered everywhere. Gasping in shock, he fell to the ground and disappeared. Only to reappear shortly thereafter. "I am the past! You cannot kill me!" Anger emanates from the small body, much more than a child should be able to feel.

You had an intense desire to contest this but believed it might be a while before you would find something that could actually kill this spoiled brat.

In complete contrast stood the middle-aged man. "We just want grandfather time back. After that, we'll leave you alone... forever."

Anger surged back through your body, reminding you of how they tried to erase your existence multiple times, the first being right at your birth. "No!" you told him after lashing out with your powers and destroying his body in no time.

"You'll see," the same middle-aged guy suddenly told you from the other side. “Maybe you can kill my son, the past because the past is quickly forgotten. And maybe even my father because the future hasn't been written yet." Out of nowhere, without you even feeling him move, he leaned in with his mouth next to your ear. "I am the present, omnipresent, unkillable except when the universe implodes in on itself."

The anger you were feeling did not subside. It even became worse, as his words felt like a looming threat to you. „What if I kill your son as well? Wouldn’t I be the controller of the present, through manipulation of past and future?“

The man smiled for the first time. "You're a lot smarter than I thought." After that, his voice softened a lot. "I allow you to keep the future, but use it wisely. You are a part of me now, and I am one of you, don't risk the balance of nature. At least no more than you have already done. You perversion of nature!"

You fell over as time worked again and lay on the floor while the middle-aged man crouched in front of his arms on his thighs. "You and your sons are abominations, an error of a magical nature. Therefore, in order to have the foresight of future events will be useful, but you must protect the universe with your power and that of your children! If not, we will find a way to kill you like we did the one who freed people's minds giving them absolute freedom."

Now that a real threat was being uttered, chills ran through your blood went cold – almost as cold as ice – you could already tell that his words were not empty.

You agreed with him. Though you knew you were powerful, you doubted there was any chance for you to win against something or someone so fundamental to the workings of the universe itself.

He smiled at you. A smile so malicious that fear was no longer the right word; you were horrified by this man. Somehow he must have sensed this because he turned to his son: who glared at you but took his father's hand.

They disappeared suddenly and without a trace; no magic, not even a smell.

Startled by this event, you fell back in your seat, exhausted and angered by your passive behavior. Maybe it was finally time to show everyone just how powerful you really are and not just give them some showings of lesser magical abilities you harbor. But where?

The pain that was gone came back a thousand times stronger than before. A scream so high you thought your vocal cords would eventually tear apart came out of you. It felt like your heart was exploding into a million pieces.

In a panic, you suddenly found yourself in a school that you had to attend many times considering you were - under normal circumstances - still would be, the mother figure of a pack of supernaturals.

Only now, you see older versions of all the teens you helped grow, broaden their horizons, and more. They fight the same enemy you died against. Right in the middle were your children - they were more of a hindrance than a real part of the struggle. Without much of their powers, they are almost useless.

You were watching the fight, but soon a girl - the cause of your death - snuck up behind the group and your sons.

You watched wide-eyed as she put an arrow in her bow, drew it, and let it fly. Your eyes followed the line of it exactly. As you realized where it would end up, a burning hatred began to flare in your veins. Not only was she the cause of your death, but now she was after your children?

A burst of raw magical energy shattered the illusion of the time - in which you were being held. With the smell of revenge in your nostrils and the tingling in your fingers, your scene changed again, only this time it was your own doing.

***

How can that be? Where did these two guys come from? And why do they look so like... him? My mind was racing as two boys about eighteen suddenly shoved Eli and me out of the way of danger, and then their hands glowed in that familiar color.

With only a few movements of their hands, they threw away the Onis with absolute ease. It reminded me even more of him. Honestly, everything reminds me of him, especially these days. Watching Eli grow up didn't make it any better. Maybe he would have stayed, even after what I did. But no, I had to be selfish and believe that she would stay with me.

Before I could ask them if they knew of him, they had summoned magic to forge weapons and engaged the Onis in sword fights.

Soon most of the Onis came to their comrade's aid and pushed both boys to their limits. First, their magic began to flicker before it just…disappeared.

As I watched them fight against those who had killed my one true love, I had this strange feeling, as if it was my duty to protect these young men as if they were my own flesh and blood.

"Get out of the way!" The boys only looked at me in shock, not moving at all. It forced Eli to suddenly transform, to push the other boys to the ground. Even though no blood was spilled or flesh pierced, my heart stopped even thinking that any of the three might have been injured.

Just as I wanted to scold my son, I froze in place, seeing the light-breaking shine of the sword rushing down.

A growl escaped my dry lips, my sore throat already dying, but not even that could stop the Oni from its hatred-filled attack against the three.

Since my body was too weak to move, even as a werewolf, I became too tired after hours of fighting. I could only watch as my son, the only good thing in my life that I ended up doing, would die right before my eyes.

Tears were already welling up in my eyes as the sword went deeper and deeper, now piercing his skin.

A sudden burst of violet light blinded me from seeing the death of my only loved one left. Screaming his name on a tongue that scolded and disciplined him more times than was necessary. I couldn't hold back my tears over the death of my son! He had to die without being able to see me: his father. Even though I was the worst father imaginable, I was still his father. Not being able to comfort my son in his last seconds of life will be the second worst experience of my life. It was hard enough living without the light of my life. But without my son? I could make my own life there!

"Don't go near my sons, you hellspawn!"

I... I know that voice! That voice... so soft and yet stern at the same time, it put all my hair up almost immediately.

I could only hear its magic crackling and things colliding. I could only imagine what had happened. But slowly, very slowly, the blindness - from the bright light - wore off. From blurred eyes, I saw a silhouette fighting like a monster against the real monster attacking us.

"Are you both all right?" His voice again, his beautiful voice. "I warned you, outside of the bubble, you will not be able to use your full power. As my sons, your powers are immeasurable. Therefore, it will take time and discipline to unlock your abilities again!” 

Hearing his voice scolding these young men and calling them his "sons" almost broke me. They seem so old! How is that possible? Did he have these kids before we met?

Before I could ask, however, I felt a burning pair of eyes on me and saw one of the twins pointing at me. When his eyes met mine, it was as if I hadn't been dazzled by his striking entry: my eyes could take in all of him. I could see its raw beauty right in front of me. He never had to do anything to look good, but now? He was gorgeous, just as young as I had met him.

But his eyes didn't show me the same love as they used to. There was disgust and anger in them instead. Of course, I deserve both, but it still hurt me.

"Dad, are you okay?" Even though I've never treated Eli the way he deserves, he still cares about me, which made my heart skip a beat.

"Dad? How old are you?" My veins turned cold, freezing even, hearing the angry voice of my true love. I just realized that if he knew Eli's age, he would know the whole truth.

At first, Eli didn't realize he was being addressed like the clueless boy he always was. It warmed my heart a bit. But soon, he must have felt the twinkling eyes on him because he turned and asked his question again. Eli, almost forced to speak now, looked at me confused, almost scared, but I nodded, not wanting to know what he would say or do.

"I-I'm fifteen, s-sir."

Sir? Eli was never that well-behaved or reclusive person who respects strangers.

His eyes widened instantly, and the anger turned to pain as his hand flew over his heart, pinched his skin, and even a tear found its way to the corner of his eye.

"Who was it, Derek?" He was speaking to me, speaking directly to me, and I could hear him! But does that mean... he's alive? 

Just now, realizing that I wasn't actually hallucinating, I nearly shit my pants lying on the floor, bruised and sore.

"Who did you cheat on me with? Fifteen years..."

There was no way I could lie to him again as I had so many years ago. "It was Breadon."

"Are you serious?" There was only disappointment in his eyes, and I could only feel the same. I feel ashamed of myself every day. Even though Eli came out of it, I still feel terrible.

"She died ten years ago. But she left right after the birth, leaving Eli and me alone. I thought if you weren't there, my heart would be hers. But we soon realized that neither of us loved the other, and I didn't date anyone else after..." A lump in my throat kept me from spilling out everything I could think of.

"You betrayed me? Let me die like I didn't mean anything?" He could hardly contain his anger but did his best, most likely for his sons and not for me. "You know what the funniest thing is? I was so in love with you that I would have forgiven you for cheating on me and getting a woman pregnant."

It was like a dagger piercing my heart when I heard that. Hearing those words of love once more, I realized in the next moment that my life could have been so much sweeter with that man. A man so deeply in love with me to forgive the worst betrayal of all.

***

When you saw Derek again, you felt a sudden outburst of hatred, but hearing that his life was so bad made it... subside, just like that. He's a lot worse off than you are now. It gave you a kind of satisfaction you never knew you needed.

"Get up, you pathetic man, and fight. I won't do it all by myself." Derek looked up in surprise when you spoke to him in a disgusting tone like that. "As I did with the hunters and the Legion of Darkness!" you mumbled softly afterward.

Derek stared at you in absolute shock. He knew you were strong fifteen years ago, but this?

A hiss came out of nowhere. A tone Derek and all other werewolves know all too well. You heard it often before as well. Far away was someone you knew should be dead. The arrow she released was in line with you. Without even trying to get out of the way, use your magic to surround the projectile to deflect it in a different direction or stop it mid-air. 

Knowing this was the only way it could go: you turned back to Derek. Only for the arrow to pierce your shoulder. It only got stopped by your bone.

For a second, you were shocked, only to feel the dark magic of another being. The Nogitsune - a powerful spirit - could not simply be killed, as you now know.

“Hmm… I should have been prepared for that. After all, his disgusting smell is all over this damn place!”

"Dad, what are you talking about?"

"That stupid Nogitsune. As always, Scott can't do anything right.”

Just as Derek opened his mouth, you stared at him, effectively silencing him before he could even utter a single sound.

"Huhu... Death, where are you?" Your voice sweet as sugar. Your sons already know this sound, and Derek did it too. Only Eli was confused, but even he broke out in a terrible sweat. "Do I have to go up there and beat your ass again?"

Just as your threat sounded, an extremely low chuckle could be heard from somewhere. A smile graced your beautiful face when you heard it.

"I think you got it the wrong way around." His heavy footsteps echoed through the school corridors.

"Uncle Dea!" your two sons shouted and jumped into the man's arms.

He laughed heartily at this warming gesture; A six-foot and seven-inch-tall man was tall enough for your two boys to hold on to, and his muscular torso, wrapped in a himation - white lose clothes - showed off his big, muscular pecs and his eight-pack. In your eyes, he was and always will be the most handsome man in any world or realm.

Soon he was pulling your sons away, his eyes fixed on you. "What did I do to annoy you this time, sweetheart?" His deep bass voice is so dark it sends shivers down your spine. He slowly moved towards you while your knees were already weakening. "It's so nice to see you again after all these years."

"I'd say the same thing... if there wasn't someone you promised me the last time we saw each other is dead and in heaven." Irritated, especially by your disrespectful tone, he slightly angled his head, almost as if he wanted to warn you. But as he followed your outstretched index finger, his eyebrows suddenly jumped up in confusion.

"What the hell is she doing here? Her soul should be at peace!” he muttered angrily to himself as a book appeared in his hand. As he flipped through it, more and more arrows flew in your guy's direction. Strangely enough, your magic still couldn't protect you from them. All you guys could do was evade them.

Until the atmosphere suddenly changed, darkness blossomed from a place where you only knew warmth. Death glowed in that atmospheric-changing darkness, ready to devour all life.

"Someone stole her soul and gave her a new body!" he roared loudly, his voice deafening, exploding all the windows and even doors around us. It even threw Allison off balance, forcing her to the ground and snapping her bowstring.

"Can you do something about it?"

"Do I look like a wizard?" After a moment's pause, his dark eyes met yours, "Don't answer that, or I'll have to spank you later."

An angry blush appeared on your face. "Not like a wizard, but a really hot farmer, at least with the scythe."

His dark eyes swallowed you whole; it was pure lust, but deep down, also love. "Even if your god were still alive, not even he would be able to save you from me when I get you later alone." He licked his plump lips, causing an immense lump to form in your throat, making it impossible for you to breathe effectively. "But I can't do anything at the moment. Someone has to kill the body the hunter girl is in before I can take her soul this time, so she can never be reborn.”

Cracking your fingers and neck, your eyes were solely on the huntress. Knowing that only you would kill that bitch, because everyone else is riding Scott’s dick, trying to make this joke of an Alpha happy.

Before you could cast a single spell at her, the same useless Alpha had his claws rammed into your chest. Determination in his eyes as you two looked at each other, on eye level.

"No!" suddenly, a familiar voice sounded behind you. In a flash, dark hair pushed Scott away from you. His claws ripped from your chest before the Alpha had a chance to crush your heart.

Breathing heavily in pain, you bend over to hide the true extent of the pain. "Dad!"

"Don't worry. I'm okay. Angry, but okay." You smiled at your two sons, who immediately came to your side, each holding an arm. Just then, you glanced over at them. "Lydia? Jackson? If any of you ever come to me to ask for another favor and still be associated with Scott... you'll wish you had jumped into lava because the death you would suffer at my hands will even make the devil blush! "

Lydia has known for a long time that you hated Scott, and over time she realized that your hatred was not unfounded. Especially after Stiles' death, which was also his fault, leaving her with two young children, the last born a month after her husband's tragic death.

Jackson wasn't even a part of the McCall Pack, but as an old ally and somewhat friend to the 'True Alpha‘ he still does his bidding if asked nicely.

They both looked at each other, their friendship still there, even after all these years. They talked silently before nodding at each other. They quickly switched from Scotts' side to yours.

In all honesty, you knew these two would come to your side before you even issued that ultimatum. Especially Jackson. If he didn't already know, he would soon learn that you've always taken care of him.

"Please, look after my boys. I'll take care of this devil spawn!” Allison was Lydia's best friend. You knew it was hard for her, but she had cried after her long enough. She's a smart cookie and aware that Allison is dead, and it isn't okay that she is back, especially not for nature, to which Lydia is close herself.

Using your magic, you lifted yourself into the air and flew to where Allison was last seen.

But when you got there, only her ruined bow was left. Before you could react, a knife was in your thigh. Groaning in pain, you pulled out the dagger and threw it at her, only hitting the wall behind her. Because she was already gone again, cursing under your breath, you began to search for her again.

A massive salvo of knives hit you quickly, your entire left side being scratched, punctured, or sliced open by them.

At that point, you had it with these games. You jumped from room to room with your powers and found them soon enough. With your magic around her neck, you imprisoned her; Before you could finish her little game by killing her stolen body, someone or something pulled her back and cut off the magic holding Allison in place. You were confronted with a being that had once been human, mummified, but it was still obvious.

You were the only person who could fight the Nogitsune. In your opinion, Stiles was always useless, but you have to give him one thing: he was an intelligent guy and the only one who could outwit a dark being like this. Without him, only you and your brute strength could be an enemy to him.

Meanwhile, the others tried to capture Allison despite her being faster, smarter than ever, and most horrifically deadlier.

"I swear by all the dead gods, if Scott had ever been responsible enough to kill his damn enemies, none of this bullshit would ever have happened!"

With renewed anger, even hatred, seething so deep in your soul that something strange happened, something painful.

Your magical core, which many people call 'soul' exploded, not in a destructive but an opening way as if nature had accepted your requests and could finally see the value in your existence.

Even the dark being, fueled by hatred, fear, and anger, suddenly became afraid. Your son's, just as you experienced something similar. Their eyes glow a purple hue, just like yours. But unlike you, their other side - they inherited from your ex-fiancé - has broken away from the many walls you built inside them.

For the first time in fifteen years of their lives, they transformed. The boys knew they could have done that from birth because of their vast magical abilities. But as they did so, the walls around them crumbled with their enormous size.

At that moment, you pulled yourself out of your pain and helped your sons control their magic that could shatter the very fabric of existence. Although slightly smaller, they are still at least five times larger than a regular wolf. In unison, they howled loudly, startling the nogitsune even more and making it tremble with terrible fear. You gathered magic in a ball of violet energy and threatened the dark being that tried to flee but failed this time. As it slowly began to warp into the shadows, you blocked the shadow, isolating it from everything else. Shocked, the Nogitsune tried to escape, but the magic-like handcuffs pulled on all four of his limbs.

"What must I do to keep you away from the mortal realm?" you asked him, sighing heavily. You looked away from that for a second, mostly for dramatic effect, over to Dea. Strangely, he pointed to where the Nogitsune was. But when you looked back, he was gone again. "Are you fucking SERIOUS?" Your voice echoed loudly through the school hallways, alerting everyone that something was beyond wrong.

Pissed off, you were going to blow up the whole building. But out of nowhere, the younger of your twins pulled something out of a shadow. A leg. But only one leg, not the whole dark being, but at least part of it.

Frantically, the leg tried to get out of his sharp teeth, but your son held it tight and carried it over to you with a toothy doggy grin.

Instead of pulling it out, you put it in a purple magic prison. Separate it from his body. Immediately after that, it stopped moving but stayed there. Although it was no longer bound to his body, it still existed.

It wasn't long before your younger son was carrying Allison, also in his mouth, mauled by him. A gasp could be heard from the sidelines, a hurt, irritated one. "If you dare touch one of my sons, Scott, I will maim you in ways you can't even imagine!" You didn't even look at him, but your voice told him the threat was real and near. So he quickly withdrew.

Your son threw Allison to your feet; her body was bleeding badly. "Finally, I can do what was supposed to happen!" Without guilt, you formed a sharp weapon in your hand and raised your arm to strike. As the blade swung through the air, but you had to stop as Scott jumped in front of his ex-girlfriend. You weren't shocked at all. He built everything around her, and she is with him now. Jumping from girl to girl, even dating his former best friend's ex-girlfriend, like a cliché player in romantic high school movies.

Instead of killing her, you sliced him with the blade. He cried out in agony as his skin began to burn slightly. “It won't heal, Scott. Any cut I give you with this blade that might heal will leave permanent scars.”

But he didn't seem to care because he stood there, teeth clenched. So you slashed him again and again... and again. You soon found yourself enjoying causing pain to this narcissistic little boy who never grew up.

"My love!" His deep voice finally snapped you out of your crimson thoughts of revenge. Dea's hand on your shoulder, his eyes looking at you with concern.

A slightly embarrassed blush rose to your cheeks. You averted your eyes far from him. But he pulled you into his arms. As you began to sob softly, your two sons came to your side and wrapped Dea and you in their united arms. Warmth, a happy and hopeful warmth, welled up in your broken heart.

When all eyes were on your little family, even the pain and jealousy of your first love, no one heard the bloody gasp at your side. Not even you until you felt something drip down your arm. Looking slightly down, there was a red substance. As your eyes looked around some more, you found the origin.

Scott sat up, his mouth bloody and a blade sticking out of his body, piercing his heart. "The mage is right. You really should have killed me when you had the chance!" An ominous chuckle followed those words.

Your eyes widened in shock as they flew toward the magical prison. Only one leg remained from the bandaged leg: a female leg. As your eyes darted back to Allison, you could see her skin slowly peeling off, revealing the Nogitsune.

When you tried to hit it with your magic sword, it disappeared. Leaving its blade pierced in Scott's chest. But you didn't give a damn; his alpha status should never have happened anyway. Maybe now someone more worthy could be elevated to this status.

At that moment, there was something more urgent. Telepathically, you told your sons to look for the real Allison. It didn't take long for them to find her: hiding behind some desks. But they just howled, which meant they couldn't carry her, so you walked past the dying Scott into the classroom and closed the door.

Soon you came out again, not a hair out of place. “Our work is done here. Lydia, Jackson, and even Ethan, you know where to find us. I'd be happy to host you whenever you want. Maybe next Christmas?” Ignoring Scott, who made his death so melodramatic.

Before you could leave, however, Derek pulled you aside. "Why didn't you ever tell me I had children?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me you cheated?" I stared at him for an answer. "Of course, no answer. Due to my short death, I had to put more magical energy into them. Their bodies became too weak to sustain the immense magical pressure. I had to kill one of the three gods of time to force their bodies to age to keep them alive. I suffered great pains to give birth and keep them alive. Now they look like eighteen-year-old men but are actually only fifteen. I'll keep them sealed for another three years, then if they want to have contact with you, they can. But I won't."

"Neither will we." your two boys said in unison as they look at their father in disgust.

It brought a smile to your face. As you teleported back up with your sons, you looked at Derek one last time. "I wanted to tell you the day I died. At least the blade cutting me down showed me the real you. I hope you never find love again and die despised by most.”

Before that day, you never told your sons what happened, only that something happened that forced you to get away from their father. You always wanted them to form their own picture of their father.

He tried to grab you, but luckily you got away just in time. Derek stayed there, his hand grasping air.

"Three more years... I have to train more people to be able to retire by then and finally marry this man!" Death himself murmured softly. It immediately caught Derek's attention. "Oh, I am sorry. The man you cheated on and I've been with for several years. I fell in love with him when he won against me: the first time anyone's won, for that matter. At least I'd never betray him.” The smug grin on Death's ice-cold face had been enough to make Derek wince in fear.

Unfortunately, you didn't witness his fear of your one true love: a man, an otherworldly being just like you. But no matter how much you despise Derek, you will forever be grateful for your relationship with him for giving you your two beautiful boys.

However, for now, you will most likely have to cuddle them to make the day's horrible events go away.

[Masterlist]

[superthatguy62]

Jack & Garland 2.0: 2 Garland 2 Furious

A while ago, I made a post about how the Garland from Dissidia and Jack Garland should not be the same characer. Time has passed since then: Opera Omnia has shut down and I finally managed to play through Stranger of Paradise (2/3rds of the way through the DLC now).

While I intended to touch up the post to include fix some things and whatnot, a realization occurred to me: The original post was heavily slanted into explaining why making the Garlands both the same character would make specifically Dissidia Garland a weaker character. In hindsight that is unfair given that the decision also weakens Jack and the theme of his story. So this is an addendum that overall touches on two aspects: The theme of Garland and why Jack and Dissidia Garland being two different takes on Garland isn't as far-fetched as it looks.

As before, this essay assumes that you are aware of the overall plot elements of the Dissidia Final Fantasy series as well as Stranger of Paradise and all of its DLC. It will also touch upon Final Fantasy XIV, although the only major spoiler is maybe something in regards to the Return To Ivalice plotline.

The Man Who Walks The Wheel of Time (The themes of Jack Garland and Dissidia Garland)

One of the major themes that Garland has come to embody over the course of the series is the concept of fate, and by extension, free will. In the original Final Fantasy, this was implicit in the form of the time loop: Garland created a perfect loop in which he abducts Princess Sara, is killed by the Warriors of Light, is revived, is taken to the past, becomes Chaos, creates and sends the Fiends forward, loses his power and memories becomes a knight of Cornelia, rinse and repeat. The loop's existence implies that it is inevitable that the Warriors of Light will die by Garland's hand just as Garland will die by theirs. This is so until the end of the game, where the Warriors of Light somehow manage to defeat Chaos. This breaks the loop and causes it to cease to exist, to the point that it is implied that Garland never lost his sanity and the Warriors' tale only lives on in legend.

Dissidia Final Fantasy expanded on this with its take on Garland. Dissidia focuses on Garland's once noble form as a knight and the nature of the time loop to present us with an awkward mid-stage Garland: One regains his sanity long enough to realize that he himself is a victim of his own plan, yet is powerless to prevent the cycle from playing out. This facet of Garland's character is important to explaining why, after the pact is made and the parties involved realize that no progress is being made, Garland reacts the way he did. Not only is Chaos, whom he mentors and overall cares for, now trapped in a cycle of conflict, but Garland himself is now trapped within yet ''another'' cycle. The museum descriptions imply that Garland's fondness for battle is largely a coping mechanism due to his belief that he will always be destined to fight.

While NT doesn't explore this aspect of Garland's character much due to the nature of that game's plot, Opera Omnia takes an interesting approach. The game's main backstory is Materia and Spiritus were told by the great crystal to create a world of respite for their champions, whom they were pushing to their limits with constant battle. However, Garland was displeased and attacked the Warrior of Light, setting the events of the game into motion. In Opera Omnia, Garland is even more obsessed with battle than before. The reason for his battle lust is explained towards the end of the second act: The Warrior of Light finished the events of FF1, meaning that the Garland back home was restored to the noble knight he once was. But the Garland of the World of Respite is the one who came from the cycles; While everyone else could be sent back home to their own realms, he has no place to return to. Garland therefore decides to allow conflict to define him: It is to the point where he considers combat to be his form of respite. The Warrior of Light indulges him for the majority of Act 3 (leaving Onion Knight as the party leader), but hopes to show Garland another way.

This leads to an odd portrayal of Garland that isn't quite foe, but is far from a friend. He wishes to keep the world intact, partially to have somewhere to fight and partially out of respect towards Chaos. Garland occasionally shows traits of that knight he probably once was even if his obsession for war is rooted in his issues with his existence.

Jack also relates heavily to the themes of fate and free will, but goes in the opposite direction as Dissidia Garland. The main plot element of Stranger of Paradise is that Jack and his friends are strangers: People from other worlds who are sent to Cornelia to act as Warriors of Light. While they appear to be saving the land, their true purpose is to regulate the levels of light and darkness in the land: As they were sent by Lufenia who relies on that imbalance to ensure that the link between their pocket dimension and the rest of Cornelia remains closed. It's not as glamorous a job as one may think. The nature of Chaos means that when people's negative emotions like fear anger or sadness bond with darkness (or the energy from the crystals), they go insane or turn into monsters… which spread further darkness and negative emotions. On top of that, it is heavily implied that the "Strangers" that the side missions describe are past versions of Jack and his allies, who died in various gruesome ways or fell into despair. All because Lufenia was content to experiment and toy with the land and its people, a bitter irony considering the implication that it was once looked down upon by Cornelia but inexcusable nevertheless. Jack grew to hate the Lufenians. So much so that he engineered a plan. A plan to ensure that he would be pulled into the depths of despair. A plan that would allow him to harness the rage and hatred he felt towards his bosses. A plan to break Lufenia's hold over the realm and guide its people to create their own destiny. A plan to push him into becoming the one thing Lufenia could not control. Chaos. When Jack creates the time loop at the end of the game to summon the Warriors of Light, it is not a mistake made in a fit of anger. It is a calculated, meticulous, intentional plan to ensure that Cornelia will be free of Lufenia's grasp once and for all. Jack willingly re-entered the cycle, this time on his own terms. And while he and his allies do manipulate the Warriors of Light, they do so in a way that gives the Warriors more freedom in the matter: They don't pick four specific individuals to become the Warriors of Light. They set up circumstances that will one day result in the Warriors of Light appearing (a plan that backfired in at least one timeline, but shush). The only qualifier is that the theoretical Warriors of Light be Cornelian and even that is thrown into question based on one of the monster conversations. The end credits theme is "My Way" for crystals' sake. This leads to some interesting implications when factoring in Different Future's endings. The default ending has Jack stay true to himself and his friends' goals. Their end justifies their fate and the Moogle's schemes fail because Jack and his allies choose to forge their own future. By contrast, the Different Future sees Jack inadvertently become the God of Discord and is told that he now must site opposite the Warrior of Light, who will become the God of Harmony. The two gods will become the pillars of a new world. While Jack doesn't show much reaction and seemingly goes along with it, one can't help but wonder if Jack Garland, the man who despises gods for essentially doing as they wish, is less than thrilled by this development.

Jack Garland and Dissidia!Garland are two sides to the same coin, that coin being the concept of fate and one's control over it. Dissidia!Garland feels that he has no control over his fate, that he will always embody conflict on some level. Even in a world where he no longer has to fight, the nature of his existence drives him to fight as a means of asserting it. Jack, after many hardships that he, his friends and the people of Cornelia go through, reaches that light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, even if Jack and his friends don't live to see it. He does it his way.

Which raises a new question: What does making Garland and Jack Garland the same character ''do'' for either of them? In the case of Dissidia Garland, it weakens that aspect of self-induced tragedy. Garland has moments that remind you that he was once an upstanding knight of Cornelia, particularly in his loyalty to Chaos - He's just browbeaten by his own actions and his constant habit of entering unending cycles of battle. It makes for an interesting contrast to some of Chaos' other warriors, especially his Famicom contemporaries: The Emperor (who is pure evil) and the Cloud of Darkness (who is a cosmic phenomenon, or the herald of it at least, that merely does its job). But his dread over making the 'mistake' mentioned in the report from his point of view, that tragedy that, were it not for his loss of hope, he could be redeemed as WoL promised to do (and as the end of FF1 implies)… all of that is weakened if it turns out that the "mistake" was not a mistake at all and that Garland had very justifiable reasons for doing what he did. As for Jack? Jack's story, despite everything, is not the traditional shakespearian tragedy. Jack's story is one of hope. A flicker of hope in the midst of the largest, darkest dungeon to ever exist, but hope nonetheless. It takes dozens of resets, but Jack forces Lufenia away. It takes unorthodox methods such as the Dragonking's boons, but the Warriors of Light eventually manage to kill Garland. And while there is a future where Jack becomes the god of Discord, there is also a future where Jack and his friends accomplish their plan. Jack being Dissidia!Garland essentially takes that concept of hope and throws it in the dustbin. Jack no longer has any form of hope. He devolves into a shell of a man, a pawn of his own plan that was 'meant' to inspire hope who later becomes a battle-hungry maniac as a coping mechanism (as opposed to a battle-hungry maniac who keeps said hunger under control and shows much more restraint) and 'willingly' serves under a god (out of pity, but still, shows how far he falls). Factor in Opera Omnia and Jack becomes a parody of himself; A man who was willing to sacrifice himself to bring peace to the land is now constantly fighting and threatening the land to assert his own existence.

While tragic in its own right, it doesn't gel well with either Garland's theme regarding fate.

And then, there's the factor of Dissidia!Garland and Jack being seen as different people in-universe. The Moogle born of Cosmos' will tells Jack that there was a man named Garland on the World of Conflict, but it knows for a fact that that man was not Jack. The Emperor also states in his missives that, while similar, Jack is a different Garland from the Garland he knows. Meanwhile, in Opera Omnia, Neon sees Dissidia!Garland, mistakes him for Jack, and then says "No wait, you aren't him." The closest to an exception is Gilgamesh, who is the one to suggest that the Garland from Dissidia may be a future version of Jack... but some of his dialogue makes it clear that even he is unsure of the truth. Some argue that we aren't meant to take these at face value or play with technicalities (the Moogle is correct in saying Dissidia!Garland isn't Jack because he's from a different future/timeline branch/whatever). On top of some of general issues with those arguments, let's point out a few specific ones:

The Moogle came from the future that that alternate Garland hails from, which is the same future it's trying to push Jack towards. From its perspective, That IS Garland.

When the Moogle makes its pitch to Jack to take the crystals, it does not even so much as allude to this other Garland. In fact, that line is the only time it mentions that other Garland. Why even mention him or call him a different Garland to begin with?

On a related note, Sophia gives the Moogle an out by implying that they would run into the Emperor in the future. There is no reason to claim that the Garland from the world of conflict is a different man.

But more importantly than all of those

If Jack fundamentally changes so much that Neon thinks that she was confusing him for someone else, what is the point of making the resulting Garland Jack?

Interdimensional Echoes (Final Fantasy and the multiverse)

In interviews, the writers for Stranger of Paradise's story, Nomura and Nojima, note that the game isn't intended to directly be a prequel to FF1, but rather an 'alternate universe' that 'uses FF1 as a motif'. Were they just being technical, given the game's nature when involving time loops? Maybe. But maybe not. There are some differences after all: Astos goes from a generic dark elf who pretends to be a king and wants a crown to a handsome, darkly humorous and loyal manipulator. Cornelia and Pravoka are the only two towns to get any focus in the game. Bikke is an actual fighter rather than a coward who hands over his ship once his pirate band are defeated. And even if all of those were handwaved away, there is still the matter of Lufenia: While the assumption is that Sophia forced them out of the Flying Fortress as Tiamat did in the original, the situation is far more complicated: The Fortress is seemingly abandoned in Stranger, with the Lufenians instead residing at "Central", their pocket dimension which is sent spiraling into ruin by Nil and had their connection to Jack's dimension severed. While it's not impossible for the Lufenians that were abandoned after Central cut the link to retake the fortress, get thrown back out and build a village on the surface… I dunno, feels a bit complicated. But let's say that none of that bothers you. No stylistic differences in the depictions of everything in SoP. Let's assume that Jack reset the world to be exactly like FF1 (WoL seeming to have a Dragoon as a companon aside). Surely 'now' Jack HAS to be Dissidia's Garland, right? While the Multiverse is a trope that people have been getting sick of, Final Fantasy has utilizied it since at least FFVIII or FFT. Obviously, these were just for the sake of Gilgamesh or Cloud being where they shouldn't but the former's constant appearances gave the concept more weight, especially since it riffed off how the Warp spell was consistently portrayed (warping the target to another dimension/the rift). Another multiverse trope people get sick of is the concept of a replacable character/world: If a character dies, just replace them with a new one, or alternatively use that new one to tie up loose ends. While FF doesn't really indulge in that form of multiverse usually, the concept of characters existing in other continuities tends to hold more weight to it. The obvious answer is FFXIV. Due to its MMO nature, it shout-outs numerous other FF games through raid series or bosses or areas or what have you that are modeled after a particular FF game. There's cases like Xande, reminagined as an Emperor or the Baldesions, with Krile being a lalafell or Golbez, who had some significant changes to his background, but is still the man in the cool armor. Return to Ivalice is the most blatant example as it features the characters and general events of Final Fantasy Tactics, but makes hefty changes to the point it's not a pure adaptation - the biggest of which being the explicit demise of Ramza's party despite Matsuno's comments and certain appearances of Ramza and Agrias suggesting otherwise for the original game.

And, of course, it's time to talk about Final Fantasy III.

The Obligatory FF3 section

This was going to be a whole thing on the remake and the OG/Dissidia's continuity (the short of it is Refia -> WoFF -> Enna Kros -> Opera Omnia, give or take some stuff like FFRK that prioritizes the remake), but it suddenly hit me what this entire situation reminded me of.

It's Onion Knight-Luneth all over again.

Luneth and Onion Knight are both the main protagonists of Final Fantasy III. So they're both the same character, right?

From a personality perspective, Luneth is more brash, more laidback, and while I can't articulate it well, his attempts at bravado feel different from Onion Knight's. Appearancewise, you'd think would be a flat 'no'. Given Luneth looks like this:

And Onion Knight like this:

Which are starkly different, even with the differences that FF tends to have between artwork and in-game appearances. But still people confuse them, mostly because of this:

Which does have Luneth's face... but not his distinctive purple color scheme that he uses while using the Onion Knight job. Instead, it's what you'd get if you put Luneth's facial features on this:

Which has apparently caused some people to mistake the above for a Luneth costume.

Additionally, in some fanfics and whatnot, the author may give Luneth's name to Onion Knight. But that misses the point behind Onion Knight: Onion Knight is based on the original blank slate famicom protagonists. He is unnamed for the same reason that the Warrior of Light's name is never revealed: because, metawise, he never had one. Incidentally, I feel like the whole connection between the Warrior of Light and Onion Knight in OO didn't work as cleanly as the devs probably intended for a number of reasons, but that's a discussion for another day

(Though given this is in reference to Garland and they had the same mothers, it technically makes sense, but come on, we all know the real reason people give Onion Knight Luneth's name. Also, no useful distinguishable aspect like Jack Garland)

Much like the Garlands, Onion Knight and Luneth are technically the same character as both are based on the original Famicom Onion Knight. However, in terms of their actual characters, right down to their identities, they are wildly different. By the same token, Dissidia's Garland and Jack Garland are both takes on the Garland from Final Fantasy 1. However, they both differ heavily in certain ways, that would feel forced to try and make them the same guy.

Conclusion: The Cycle Continues

With Opera Omnia ending service and NT having done so long ago, we probably won't get an answer to DIFFERENT FUTURE's cliffhanger until the next Dissidia-related project chooses to answer that question, whether it be a full-on Dissidia game or

Whether or not Stranger of Paradise or Dissidia is canon, is largely irrelevant to FF1 itself. Square Enix has rarely ever allowed subseries or sequels to impact the original games (FFIV being a rare exception, and even then, largely the script and largely confined to the PSP version, which had the sequel bundled in). This is especially true with the Pixel Remasters, which removed even content that was in prior re-releases. Dissidia has never impacted the Final Fantasy 1 re-releases and it is incredibly unlikely that Stranger of Paradise will do so either. However, there is the question of impact in regards to Garland's appearances going forward: SE now has two potential Garlands to choose from, at least in theory. In practice, I can't imagine Dissidia Garland going away forever.

Regardless of what SE chooses to do, however, I remain convinced that Jack and the Dissidia Garland aren't literally the same guy. In terms of role, Jack seems pegged to be a God of Discord, not a right-hand as Garland tends to be. Thematically, they are opposites in regards to fate and their end results. And I feel that they would be cheapened, on top of needing some retcons, if they were to be the same person.

At the end of the day, both being Garland is enough reason to appreciate them both.

[houselamentation]

thank you for perceiving me as someone sweet :,) i'm so glad you like my posts~

and your mc 'unknowingly' kept a sloth little d as a pet? do they know it's a little d, or do they see it as a strange, magical little cat? makes me very curious as to what their relationship with belphie is, too! it's clear that he cares for them, but i wonder how that came to be...

I haven't made my way through all of your writing yet but you are very talented and, yes, sweet and I love how you are adding so much to the OM world with your original ideas and characters- (Godtongue especially intrigues me)!

My MC Ayla is ambitious (derogatory), eager for power and to prove herself, and prone to making mistakes and bad, even selfish decisions along the way. In the AU I share with @dcvilgrams, she is one of three human exchange students and the only one without any natural affinity (or even a tiny bit of skill) for magic. She tries to be important as a political influence instead. By Season Two, Solomon discovers that Ayla's powers have always existed but been dormant and are now beyond her control. She attempts a spell she has no business doing and that leads to Belphie wanting to break off their relationship but it's not just because of the pact they still feel so closely connected. The Little D is named Woodas. He is disguised as a little boy cat and more than happy to follow Ayla home and report to Belphie occasionally about how she's doing and ensuring she doesn't go too far. As far as she knows at first, he's just a really weird cat- which led to some hilarious Devilgram posts because she sees an orange cat but the demons see a Little D attempting the Long Cat pose or getting kissed on top of the head. I'm working up to writing a kind of redemption arc but "Mister Noodles" the "cat" is along for the ride regardless. Thank you so much for letting me rant about all this. I haven't posted nearly as much as I intended to about the OCs, however silly. <3

[obeyme-kaidii]

Lesson 38 Summary

MC and Lucifer spend some time with his brothers, and a solution is found for Diavolo’s concerns.

***SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT***

MC finds Satan and Lucifer talking, and they explain that Mammon has invited Lucifer over to play cards. Satan is advising him to skip out, but Lucifer doesn’t want to because he already agreed. Satan then asks MC to go with Lucifer so that they can help rein Mammon in and look out for Lucifer.

Mammon is very happy to see both Lucifer and MC when they arrive at his room. Mammon and Lucifer decide to play a Devildom card game, that apparently Lucifer still remembers how to play. Mammon suggests that they pick prizes for what they should get if they win. He wants permission to uses Lucifer’s credit card (without restrictions), and Lucifer decides he wants MC all to himself for one day if he wins. Lucifer apologizes to MC for offering them up as a reward and says he’ll pick something else if MC isn’t comfortable with it. 

While everyone is playing cards, Lucifer catches sight of Mammon’s car, and Mammon tells him a bit about it. Lucifer then shares that he actually remembers when Mammon bought the car. He goes on to reveal that he actually requested Diavolo’s help in helping Mammon acquire it because it was a limited edition color that was hard to find.

Lucifer ends up winning the card game, and tells Mammon he’ll be spending the whole day tomorrow with MC. Lucifer then leaves to return to his room, and Mammon asks MC to stay behind so they can talk for a bit.

Mammon says he tried to talk to them yesterday in Levi’s room, but wasn’t able to because everyone else is around. He reminds MC that he was their first and he will always be their first, even if their pact is broken. Mammon then gives MC a tight hug, and the two share a really sweet, emotional moment together. 

In a side scene, Levi is talking to Satan and Mammon about the changes he’s noticed with Lucifer. Satan notes that Lucifer is certainly more mellow now than how he used to be. Levi says that it reminds him of how Lucifer used to be back in the Celestial Realm. Satan suggests that perhaps they are seeing the real Lucifer now, the well-mannered Lucifer is just who he pretends to be to keep up appearances. 

Satan asks if they’ve noticed how he treats MC differently, and Mammon points out he’s much more lovey-dovey in front of everyone (unlike before when he only acted that way with MC in private). Mammon suddenly remembers that Lucifer is taking MC out on a date tomorrow (his prize for winning the card game). The trio then decide that they are going to find a way to interfere in Lucifer’s date tomorrow. 

Lucifer then enters the room, and after a moment of panic on the part of Satan, Mammon, and Levi, shares that he’s just there to thank them for all the help they’ve given him the past few days. He apologizes for being so much trouble. After he leaves, Levi suggests that “go easy on him” and not mess with his date plans, and Mammon and Satan agree. 

The following morning, Asmo is causing a scene in the entryway - he’s just realized that Lucifer is getting to spend the whole day with MC alone and is not happy about it. Lucifer says he should talk to Mammon about it, and while Asmo is busy arguing with Mammon, Lucifer and MC leave. 

Outside, Lucifer and MC share a sweet moment together where he tells them that he enjoyed seeing his brothers jealous. He then explains to MC that even though he doesn’t remember much about MC, he still has this strong feeling that he wanted to be alone with them.

While they are talking, Solomon walks up and greets the pair. He then turns to MC and mentions that Lucifer seems a bit different now. Solomon had been coming by to talk to MC, but says he’ll return later that night so they can talk then. He then suggests that MC and Lucifer head to the Devil’s Coast. He apparently originally had plans with Luke and Simeon, but Simeon had to head back to the Celestial Realm so they were canceled. 

Upon arriving at the carnival, MC tells Lucifer that they’ve been there before and he apologizes for not remembering the trip. MC is given the opportunity to encourage him though, and then Lucifer suggests they go get some popcorn to eat. Lucifer then takes MC to the ferris wheel. 

Lucifer begins to talk to MC and asks questions about the last time they rode the ferris wheel together. He then confesses his feelings to MC. He’s very sweet, honest, and romantic in his confession, and finally asks MC to kiss him.

Meanwhile, the brothers have also arrived at Devil’s Coast. Just because they agreed to not interfere with Lucifer’s date doesn’t mean they weren’t going to follow them around and...observe. Everyone offers up various excuses for why they are there, but then Mammon notices Lucifer and MC getting on the ferris wheel and the group immediately splits into pairs and follows behind them. 

Levi and Mammon ride together. Levi asks Mammon if he thinks Lucifer is happier now, and Mammon reassures him that he doesn’t think he is because he’d rather remember all his brothers. Levi teases Mammon a bit about how weird it is when he suddenly starts acting like a big brother.

Asmo and Satan are riding together in the next car. Asmo teases Satan a bit about the fact that he’s been nicer to Lucifer lately. Satan points out that he’s actually older than Asmo - he saw the world thru Lucifer’s eyes long before Asmo was created. (Which explains why he has memories of the Celestial Realm)

Belphie and Beel are in the last car. Beel explains to Belphie that he actually saw him cuddling with Lucifer and MC the other day when they took a nap together. He says he’s happy for Belphie since he’s able to be closer to Lucifer again. 

After the ride, Mammon is apparently in a state of shock and Levi can’t stop crying after witnessing MC and Lucifer kiss. 

MC and Lucifer return home and wish each other goodnight. When MC enters their room, they find Solomon there waiting for them. He explains that he’s spent a lot of time researching the Night Dagger, but it seems that it’s power has waned over the years and it’s not strong enough on its own (or even if supplemented with his powers) to break the ring. He then explains that the only way to restore the power to the Dagger would be to stab a powerful demon - like Lucifer - and have the Dagger absorb his power, killing Lucifer. 

Solomon then admits that he knows MC would never actually be able to do that. He explains that before he met MC he would have done it without hesitation, but now, he can’t bear the thought of MC being mad at him (note - he doesn’t seem to have problems killing Lucifer, he just doesn’t want MC to be upset). As they continue discussing what they should do, Lucifer enters the room and it’s not longer before Solomon notices. 

He’s heard about the Night Dagger and how he would need to die to restore its power. Lucifer then sends Solomon home so that he can talk with MC alone. MC tries to reassure Lucifer that they are going to find another way, but Lucifer explains that even though he lost his memories - he still knows how important MC and his brothers are to him. He tells MC that he is willing to let them stab him if it will protect them all. He takes MC’s hands as they hold the Dagger and point it at his chest. MC is then given the option of stabbing him, or themselves, or ordering Lucifer to stay.

If MC goes to stab themselves, a flash of light will appear at just the right moment as Simeon grabs their hand to stop them. He then slips a ring onto MC’s finger, and MC is engulfed in another flash of light. MC then hears a voice - its Michael - and he wants to know more about MC and why they decided to point the Dagger at themselves. When MC explains that it’s because they love Lucifer, he expresses his jealousy at the fact that he “lost” Lucifer and his brothers. He then also explains that he had been worried that MC would be an evil person, to have won the hearts of so many powerful demons, but he felt much better now having met them and offers them blessings instead before sending them back to their body/the Devildom.

Later, MC is talking with Simeon and Luke. Simeon tells MC how glad he was that he was able to arrive in time to stop them. Solomon explains that since MC is now in possession of the Ring of Light, their powers have stabilized and are no longer a threat to the three realms. He also informs MC that they are now officially one of the strongest sorcerers in existence - ranking alongside Solomon himself. Simeon points out that Lucifer’s memory has also returned, but Solomon says that Lucifer was not happy with him or Diavolo, and punished them both. Simeon then explains that Lucifer intends to punish him too. 

Solomon then asks MC for a favor - he wants them to agree to help him in the future to safeguard the human realm in case it's ever in danger again. MC agrees and Solomon is happy to hear it. 

Luke then asks MC if he can see the Ring of Light. Solomon mentions that the ring was supposedly lost during the Great Celestial War, so he’s impressed Simeon was able to find it. Simeon says that Michael actually made sure the Ring wasn’t lost, since he loved Lucifer so much and kept it in his personal collection. Solomon wonders if perhaps Simeon took the ring without permission, but Simeon evades the question, smiling all the while. 

Favorite Scenes - 

to be added later

[fellulahh]

‘Mammon visits MC in the human realm and Lucifer gets jealous’ Part 29/30

“Diavolo?” Satan asked once again, “when did he come into this?!”

“You should probably sit down.”

-

MC woke up feeling sore. She was almost sad that she had woken up at all. Not to sound morbid, but when she was sleeping she felt no pain whereas when she was awake suddenly the sensitivity of her neck became more apparent. The redness hadn’t gone down since the events of yesterday but she was finding it easier to breathe now.

As she glanced across the room, sitting up in bed, she noticed Lillian wasn’t in her cot and Lucifer was nowhere to be seen. He must have taken her downstairs for breakfast. Letting out a moan, MC reached over and grabbed her D.D.D.

Ever since being saved from Belial, all MC could think about was Diavolo. She was in too much of a state of shock to thank him after he’d rescued her but even if she did want to say something, he disappeared just as quickly as he’d arrived. MC had hoped that by the time she woke up he wouldn’t be crossing her every thoughts but she still couldn’t shake the demon Lord from her mind.

Scrolling through her contacts, her thumb hovered over his name as she poked her tongue out between her lips.

‘Why’d you have to go Diavolo?’ She thought to herself as she furrowed her eyebrows.

Her mind then flickered to Lucifer. How did he feel about it all? After all, Diavolo had portrayed his trust and manipulated him. Although he not only freed Lucifer from his sentence and saved both MC’s and Lillian’s lives, MC wasn’t sure if the eldest brother would be willing to forgive him yet. But then what else could Diavolo do?

Before she could even think about messaging him, the door to the room opened. “You’re awake.” Lucifer spoke softly, carefully making his way over to the bed with their baby in his arm. “How are you feeling?”

“Physically I’m fine,” MC nodded, “emotionally I’m...troubled.”

“Troubled?” Lucifer questioned, laying down next to her with Lillian on his chest.

“We need to talk about what happened yesterday, Lucifer.” MC sighed

“I don’t understand - we talked about everything yesterday when we explained what happened to Satan.” Lucifer furrowed his eyebrows.

“And we barely talked about how I was saved...who saved me.” MC spoke, trying to meet Lucifer’s eyes.

“I see.” He nodded simply. “You want to talk about Diavolo.”

MC hated the way that all of the colour faded from his face at the mention of the Prince’s name. They couldn’t avoid him forever though - MC did still want to speak to him after his visit to them in hospital.

“Lucifer,” she spoke softly, “I know you may still hate him for what he did—“

“He manipulated us MC, he tried to use me to get to you!” Lucifer suddenly spoke up, stirring Lillian in her slumber.

MC shot him a look, immediately causing him to hush. “Luci, please.” She begged, wanting him to hear her out. “If it weren’t for him, myself and your daughter would be dead. I know you hold a grudge against him - as did I - but surely the life of our baby trumps everything he’s done?” MC tried to reason.

“I’m sure he only did it for you.” Lucifer spoke quietly in a salty manner.

“Regardless of the reasonings, he still saved our baby girl.” MC spoke softly, “Surely that should be what’s important to you?”

Lucifer was quiet as he contemplated over her words.

“I want to speak to him, Luci.” She whispered, “We owe him our lives - the least we could do is say thank you.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Lucifer accepted that she was right. “We’ll go to the palace soon if you’re feeling well enough.” He said quietly.

“There’s something else...” MC spoke, feeling herself growing anxious over how Lucifer would react to her next words. “Yesterday has really got me thinking about the safety of Lillian.”

“What of it?” He asked curiously.

“You saw how easy it was for Belial to control you yesterday by using our pact. Should something like that ever happen again, I need someone to be there to look out for Lillian.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, intrigued to see where MC was going with this.

“I want her to have somebody watch over her...like a guardian.” MC spoke.

“And you want that somebody to be him?” Lucifer asked completely shocked. “What of my brothers?”

“I would love for them all to be her guardian but I have pacts with each of them - I don’t want to risk ever putting them in the position that I was forced to put you in yesterday. I know Diavolo is the one demon who could protect her no matter what - he’s the most powerful being I’ve ever met and I know he cares deeply for Lillian.” MC pleaded. “Please Lucifer - I want our daughter to be safe.”

The eldest brother felt a wave of stress flood his body. He couldn’t say no to her. Every word that fell from her lips was right: Diavolo did save MC and he did save their baby. Lucifer at least owed him a thank you.

“Fine. We’ll go to the palace this afternoon.” He said with a heavy breath.

“No Luci, I want to go now.”

-

Diavolo let out a deep breath as he anticipated the arrival of MC and Lucifer. He’d hoped there wouldn’t be a confrontation but of course that was wishful thinking after everything that had happened.

As he sat frozen in his chair, his mind began to wander as he thought about MC. Although he’d let his love for her go, he couldn’t help but let her cross his mind still. He had to keep reminding himself ‘she’s happy with Lucifer - they’re a family’.

Every time he was reminded of what he’d done, Diavolo would loathe himself. He couldn’t believe he allowed himself to get so lovesick and unbalanced all because of his growing feelings that he didn’t know how to handle. What if Lucifer had told her everything? What if she now hated Diavolo?

All that mattered to him though was she was happy. Even if it is without him.

Hearing a quiet knock at his door, he glanced up to see Barbatos stood there. “They’re here, My Lord. They’re waiting for you downstairs.”

“Thank you, Barbatos.” Diavolo nodded, standing up from behind his desk. He quickly brushed down his uniform, composing himself before leaving the room.

His heart began to race in his chest as he anticipated seeing them both. Stepping down the colossal staircase, he turned at the bottom. His strides began to slow down as his eyes fell on them at the end of the hallway. But a warm smile appeared on his face when he saw the tiny baby that MC carried in her arms.

“Lucifer, MC.” He nodded politely as he approached them.

“Diavolo...” MC breathed.

She was overwhelmed with emotions as her sad gaze fell on the unusually quiet Prince. Despite how hurt she’d felt after finding out about what he’d done while she stayed with him, she couldn’t help but let her heart burst as she saw him. He saved her and their baby!

Gently passing Lillian to Lucifer, MC cautiously stepped up to Diavolo. He stared at her nervously as she approached him but was surprised when she pulled him in for a sudden hug. Lucifer’s body stiffened as he watched her but he didn’t say anything.

“Thank you.” She breathed against his chest.

He wasn’t sure what to do. Quickly glancing up at Lucifer who was watching him like a hawk, Diavolo gently wrapped his arms around her, accepting the hug as he took a large gulp.

Pulling away, MC gripped his arms tightly as she stared into his amber eyes. “I think we need to talk...” she spoke quietly. “About everything.”

‘She knows’

“Of course.” Diavolo nodded sincerely, “Come.”

Leading them both through the palace, he took them to his study. As usual, he sat down behind his huge desk while MC and Lucifer sat in front. “What is it you wish to speak of?” He asked.

“To be honest with you I don’t know where to start...” MC breathed, “I recently found out something about you that part of me wishes I hadn’t.”

Diavolo’s eyes flickered to Lucifer who still had a stern look on his face. “I see...” he nodded before letting out a deep breath, “I can only apologise for my actions - they were unforgivable. My morals were blinded.”

“Yes, they were.” MC spoke almost harshly, “but in my eyes I want to forget everything that happened. What you did for Lucifer with his pledge and now yesterday saving mine and Lillian’s lives...that to me matters more than anything else.” She spoke sincerely.

Diavolo listened to her every word intently while Lucifer remained silent.

“We could have lost our family yesterday but you stopped that from happening. I don’t care about what you did in the past or what you intended to do - what you’ve now done for us proves you’ve changed.”

Diavolo nodded to himself, unsure of what to say. His eyes suddenly fell on Lucifer who was still quiet. MC may have forgiven him but had he? After all, humans have very forgiving hearts while demons do not. And it was Lucifer who originally wanted Diavolo to never see her again.

“I thank you for your kind words, MC.” He spoke quietly, “I don’t deserve them but I appreciate them nonetheless.”

“There’s something else.” She spoke up, catching his attention.

Glancing up at her slowly, Diavolo felt nervous as he anticipated her next words.

“Lillian needs someone to watch over her the way that you did yesterday.” MC spoke softly, making Diavolo’s lips part. “I want us all to forget about the past and think about what matters most: her safety.”

Lucifer let out a deep breath as he let her talk.

“What are you asking of me?” He asked intrigued.

“We want you to be her guardian.” MC stated.

“We?” Diavolo questioned with a scrunched nose.”

“Yes, we.” Lucifer spoke up. Although he had a hard expression, his words were still sincere.

Diavolo breathed heavily as his mind raced. “I don’t deserve the honour.” He declared, shaking his head. “It should go to someone more deserving, someone who didn’t betray you both.”

“Even though nobody has betrayed me like you did, there’s also nobody who has saved my family’s life.” Lucifer hesitantly admitted, “I could have lost MC and my daughter if it weren’t for you.”

Nodding his head slowly, Diavolo sat back in his seat. “Im still undeserving...” he sighed.

“She needs you.” MC pleaded as she held their sleeping baby in her arms, “Please Diavolo.”

His troubled eyes gazed at Lillian as he contemplated over what to do. In truth, he’d protect their baby like she was his own.

“MC’s right. Nobody can protect her more than you can.” Lucifer breathed reluctantly.

Feeling his heart pounding in his chest, Diavolo nodded. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll be her guardian but only if you mean every word.”

“We do.” MC spoke softly.

A sad smile cross Diavolo’s face as he admired the family in front of him. “Thank you.” He whispered.

[beetlebitchywitch]

Oh you are fired up for more questions about the dons? Then you bet your ass I'm gonna ask them until I have none left!

Ok so I've noticed that you mentioned Cia has made a pact with the fae. Does that mean he's a demon thanks to them or what exactly?

Disclaimer: In no way are we claiming that our vision of the Fair Folk is entirely accurate. As a pagan myself, I felt it important to address this. These are fictionalized versions of fae like creatures that we’ve been calling “the fae” for simplicity purposes, but we’re in no way claiming that the way they are described or portrayed is accurate to their common folklore.

Ok SO

Cia’s backstory is somewhat vague. Despite his outgoing, good-natured demeanor, exactly how and why he became a demon is unknown. He’s the oldest of the dons other than Mr Eldritch Horror Gio, having been human during the Iron Age, so his transformation was so long ago that the memory is even fuzzy to him sometimes. Only Bajo knows what details Cia can remember, and he intends to keep it that way.

That being said, the fae did originally change Cia into a demon in return for servitude. Again, why originally Cia agreed to this deal is a mystery. But the deal works like this- once a month, Cia serves as a source of entertainment for the Court. He is temporarily turned human again, no special powers/strength whatsoever, and then fights a challenger to the death. Basically, every month he puts his life on the line in order to continue his existence as an immortal, incredibly powerful demon, while the fae get their kicks watching some bloodshed. Everybody wins, except the poor saps Cia beats to a bloody pulp and Cia’s sanity knowing at any moment he could only have a month or so left to live.

Despite Cia typically having a happy, jokester personality, underneath he deals with a ridiculous amount of stress because of the deal and has considered backing out several times. But he’s so happy with the life he’s created with Bajo, you, and the others, that he won’t back out.

(Tw: drugs, near death) Speaking of Bajo. Cia first met him while he was human and was instantly smitten. Long story short, Cia finds him overdosing in an alley after a night out and panics, sensing that he’s near death. So, he goes to the fae to strengthen the deal: on top of the monthly fights, he also has to pay tribute to them weekly and construct a new shrine for them in the forest next to the estate, and in return, they’ll make Bajo a demon as well. He hates that they have even more dominion over his life now, but he would’ve done anything in that moment to save Bajo from dying.

So yeah, that’s the gist of that!

[utilitycaster]

I think Star Razor being a vestige makes a lot of sense because it's pivotal to Fjord's arc & it would have been a little disappointing if it had been later swapped out for a more powerful weapon at higher levels (granted that's a big if). This way it gets to evolve with him. The others don't need that. I think it's sort of comparable to Hardwon's Queenshammer - it was such an apt weapon from a story POV that Murph probably didn't want to replace it with something stronger but less significant.

Yeah, that’s another part of it - I mean it’s already a pretty powerful weapon, but given that it’s symbolic both of the party rallying around him and his pact to Melora it would be really weird to swap it out for like, a random Holy Avenger that they find in a few levels.

I think personally, I’d rather see more of a blessing-like boon for Caduceus, Yasha, and probably Jester, from their respective deities, and for Caleb I think it would be far more interesting for him to perhaps find a fragment of a spell in Aeor or the astral city that would be a strong lead on his original time travel plans (with the potential for him to benefit in another way even if he decides that ultimately he doesn’t want to go that route - I’m sure there’s a good way to use that in a spell homebrew).

I’m honestly not sure how I’d do the same for Beau, who has some legitimately very cool items but nothing vestige-level, or for Veth, who already got what she didn’t necessarily think was possible (and which Sam said did not need to come out in game). In some ways I feel the greatest reward for Beau will be some of her theories being correct, and the respect she’s gained within the Cobalt Soul - perhaps having her ideas validated and the aid of the Cobalt Soul against the Cerberus Assembly at her command. I’m honestly kind of stuck with regards to Veth, other than maybe letting Yeza be there for some Cerberus Assembly vengeance so that they can one day return to Felderwin (in case you cannot tell, all three of the current major plot threads are incredibly exciting to me, and also I really like Veth as a character but her motivations currently are really tricky to follow - I understand her position, and it’s fascinating, but I don’t know how to reward it).

I think the example of the Queen’s Hammer is a really good one for how an important magical item is at its best; it should fill a need for that character and symbolize some kind of bond. I also really like the Queen’s Hammer as your comparison because Hardwon was also an orphan who never really felt like he belonged anywhere in part because of his race, and who mostly only knew tough love and very specific  ideas of masculinity and the hammer symbolized belonging and unity and a way to protect others.

Of the Campaign 1 vestiges, all were cool, but like, while they were mostly clearly intended for certain characters, some really felt tied to plot and character development for me (the deathwalker’s ward, fenthras, titanstone knuckles) and some were certainly cool and enhanced a character but never felt as intertwined with that person’s arc (spire of conflux, cabal’s ruin, whisper, plate of the dawnmartyr) and some were mythcarver which I genuinely think is extremely cool but between the house rule that you could cast L1 healing word even after casting a spell as your action, Scanlan’s well-chosen magical secret spells, and Scanlan’s complicated and unexpected character arc, was just not terribly necessary.

Like, I think all the vestige talk needs to be tempered with the fact that some of the vestiges weren’t used a lot, or were cool but weren’t actually that symbolic! When I think of Percy’s development I don’t really think of objects and more about his actions and how Whitestone took the place of Greyskull Keep; Keyleth’s development is far more symbolized by the mantle of the tempest; and Pike and Scanlan’s blessings felt far more personalized and symbolic of their story than their vestiges. I feel like the vestiges in the campaign guide would mostly be like the spire of conflux in that they’d be useful but they wouldn’t feel so essential to the character.

[kathyprior4200]

Zoophobia: The Remix

All characters, art, and settings belong to Vivziepop/Vivienne Medrano, no copyright intended. https://zoophobiacomic.com/

Chapter One: “Cameron’s Early Years”

“Greetings. My name is Salvia, a human staff member at Zoo Phoenix Academy. Don’t mind my thick red hair, it often covers my face. I love romance films and novels and I play violin. I also have extensive knowledge of psychic powers and prophecy. Me having existed since ancient times could explain it.”

 “Let me tell you an incredible, albeit bizarre story about the world I’m from. It is what mortals call ’Zoophobia.’ First, a provenance about said world…”

 “Safe Haven…it is a sanctuary, an oasis for animals, anthropomorphic beings and other creatures. The Zoo Phoenix Academy is part of it. We sustain ourselves here…and serve as a utopia and protected escape for all kinds of creatures that are ostracized by the human-dominated world beyond the Oceania Forest. That is why there are so few humans here.”

 “Safe Haven is split into seven districts and each district has an important purpose and contributes to the society as a whole. The Animal District, Capital City, the wealthy E! District, Marine District, Avian District, the Farming District and the District of Magic. (Do not go to Xirxine Labs, they do horrible experiments on beings deemed ‘troublesome.’) Pacts were made and spells were cast to prohibit malevolent forces from entering the boundaries of Safe Haven. But to maintain the peace and tranquility of this thriving culture, very specific rules were put into effect by the original peacekeepers who founded Safe Haven.”

 “Evil forces include evil spirits, rogue vampires, true demons, and blood hunters. (And don’t forget many of the entitled angels in Heaven, they can be deceiving.) The laws here are strict and they keep the dangers out, while keeping the citizens inside and safe. But this is why no living being is permitted to leave for good. It goes against the pacts that protect us. And breaking those pacts could lead to the corruption of the magic that shields us. Without magic, we would be at the mercy of not only dark monsters, but also outside humans who have wanted to hunt us all down. We would be overcome with the dark forces that have been wanting to enter Safe Haven for centuries.”

 “Safe Haven has not had a violent crime or a dangerous predator in years, and we do everything we can to keep it that way. But one circumstance changed all that we knew.”

 “This story first begins in the human world…and follows an ordinary female by the name of Cameron Walden…”

 0 0 0

 “Are you ready to go, sweetheart?”

 “Coming, mommy!”

 A jubilant fair-haired girl jumped for joy before dragging her small suitcase behind her down the hall. She was around six years old and her hair was slightly messy. Her golden-brown-haired mother looked at her with loving eyes.

 “What will we do on our camping trip today?” little Cameron asked eagerly.

 “Hmm,” she said. “Last year we went canoeing at the lake and made crafts out of sticks. Remember when we roasted marshmallows under the stars?”

 “Oh yes!” Cameron said. “Those snores were delicious!”

 “I think you mean s’mores,” her mother chuckled. “Your face and hands were so sticky afterwards. You looked like a goopy little monster.” She playfully pinched her cheeks and made a funny face as Cameron giggled.

 “But I’m thinking this year, we’ll do some of your favorite activities. I know how much you enjoy fishing.”

 “Oh yay!” Cameron cheered. “I remember daddy catching at least two. And I got to feel their smooth scaly skin. Glad he let them go at the end.”

 “He might teach you this time. But you’ll have to be patient.”

 “Don’t worry, I will…maybe.”

 Her mother chuckled again. “Let’s go, your dad is waiting for us.”

 Cameron’s father also had white skin and golden brown hair, except he had a scruffy beard that he often let Cameron feel. His eyes were kind and thoughtful and a Christian cross necklace hung around his neck. All of them wore casual jeans, brown hiking shoes and shirts of gray.

 Soon, Cameron and her family piled into their car and Cameron’s father drove them through the city streets. The city was dull and gray, reminiscent of New York City but without the splendor. But even the smoggy city didn’t deter Cameron’s excitement. During the long drive to the woods, Cameron and her family sang some songs, played I Spy and that game where you call out a word and then have to call another word that starts with the end letter.

 “Salad,” said Cameron’s father.

 “Diver,” said her mother.

 “River,” Cameron said.

 “Ratable,” said her father.

 “Uh, lion!” said her mother.

 “Ha! You lose!” said her father.

 “No fair! Ratable has a silent ‘e.’ You cheated!”

 Her father just shrugged playfully and winked at Cameron before focusing back on the road.

 “Why’d I space out like that?” her mother mumbled.

 They entered through the woods, trees surrounding either side as they rushed by. The dullness of the city faded behind them as greenery whizzed to life as they drove.

 “Have you ever thought about what you want to be when you grow up?” her mother asked.

 “I don’t know,” Cameron answered. “But I do want to help people and make the world a better place!”

 “Great spirit you have there,” her father remarked. “Anything in particular?”

 “Maybe…a counselor! Or a zookeeper! Or maybe a marine biologist! Surely it can’t be that hard comforting animals and humans the same!”

 “Well,” her mother began. “I know how much you love animals, especially fish. But humans are more…complex creatures. You need to have good listening skills in order to start. And…” she said in a singsong voice, “That means making friends!”

 Cameron groaned. She was quite shy, even in her youth.

 “I know it can be hard,” said her mother. “But you can’t expect to be alone forever. There are so many different individuals out there. And it’s true some of them may be...strange at first glance."

 “What if they…don’t like me or hurt me?”

 “No one would hurt you,” she said. “If they did, I’d make them run for the hills. Plus no one could possibly dislike such a sweet angel like yourself. Just take it one step at a time. You’ll find someone special to love. And I know you will be confident and successful one day, whatever you decide to do.”

 Cameron smiled at the thought as they continued down a dirt path. Her mother had always wanted her to be happy above all else. The car swayed and bounced as they went deeper in. At last, they found their favorite camping spot and parked. It was a pleasant area with a few pine trees, a wooden bench and a small ledge overlooking a nearby lake. As Cameron’s father pitched the tent and gathered wood, Cameron and her mother gazed at the nearby lake. Sunlight shimmered and sparkled on the water, mesmerizing Cameron. A few ducks quacked off to the side and horsetail reeds swayed in the cool breeze. A dragonfly zoomed in and out among the reeds, occasionally touching the liquid surface. It was a relief to get away from the city and into the much cleaner fresh air.

 After a fun day of hiking (Cameron identified several types of leaves and tracks), hide and seek (Cameron climbed a small tree but was found anyway) and fishing (Cameron caught one small fish), they had an early evening dinner over the fire. Cameron inhaled the scent of sizzling bratwurst and hamburgers as the meat cooked. A few stars had already appeared as the sun painted the sky orange and gold. The meat was delicious and slightly overcooked. Then they had s’mores for dessert.

 “Aw man,” groaned her father as he stared at his blackened marshmallow on a stick, “I overdid mine.” Then he grinned playfully and proceeded to eat it.

 “Gross!” Cameron remarked with a face. “How can you eat that?”

 “A marshmallow is a marshmallow,” he said with a shrug.

 Cameron’s marshmallow was a perfect golden brown in between the chocolate pieces and graham crackers. Cameron’s mother had her marshmallow plain white.

 After the satisfying meal, Cameron was eager to explore some more. “Can we go on a quick hike, Dad?” she asked. “It’s not as hot now.” A refreshing breeze caressed her skin.

 Her dad nodded. “There’s still some light out. We can look around and gaze at the stars too.”

 “Just don’t go too far,” added her mother. “And take a flashlight with you.”

 “See you shortly,” called her father as he took Cameron’s hand and began their nightly hike. Cameron’s mother waved with a smile while sitting on a log and finishing her dinner. The fire crackled brightly.

 By now, the sky has turned a dark indigo. The moonlight lit the path in front of them but they were still careful not to trip over any stray sticks, holes or rocks. Along the way, they spotted a rabbit, several squirrels, and even a stag hidden among the trees. The natural world was a wondrous place for Cameron. She and her father eventually relaxed on a cool boulder, naming the various constellations above them.

 “This is the best camping trip ever, Dad!” Cameron smiled.

 “It sure has been lots of fun, kiddo,” her father smiled. For a while, they let themselves be mesmerized by the twinkling stars and the comforting sound of the still night air. Then all too soon, he sat up and said, “We should head on back. After all, an overnight sleepover never gets old.”

 “Yeah, let’s go!” said Cameron. She let out a yawn and was looking forward to being warm in her cozy sleeping bag. They got off the rock and walked back hand in hand.

 As they wondered the trails back toward camp, the forest was quiet. Eerily quiet. There were no bird songs or bugs or even the swaying of the wind. Even with the flashlight and moonlight, it grew much darker than before. Cameron grew silent and scooted closer to her father as they walked. A prickling feeling crept up to her neck…she felt like something was watching her. With every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves, she flinched slightly.

 “Are there m-monsters out here?” she asked, almost in a whisper.

 “Don’t be concerned. Other than the devil and wild animals, monsters don’t exist. Everything is fine,” her father assured her.

 Cameron grew less and less convinced as they continued their trek. Shadows flickered and warped this way and that, a trick of the eyes. Cameron whimpered softly. Something tall loomed up ahead. A large tree was in front of them, larger than the other trees around. It looked like an ancient oak tree with hanging branches and a worn down trunk. Cyan fog surrounded the tree and the area, giving it an enigmatic and ominous feel.

 A low hooting sound came from nearby. Cameron glanced at a black hole in the tree, at her eye-level. A smaller branch stuck off to the side of it. She peered inside and didn’t see anything.

 But then…a pair of glowing yellow eyes blinked from inside. And a white owl emerged onto the branch! She shined her flashlight at it and it didn’t flinch. Just stared intently.

 Cameron had never seen such a majestic creature before. It had white feathers, tiny black spots on its coat and a sharp hooked beak. But there was something peculiar about this owl. Looking closely, Cameron could make out zig-zag yellow stripes down the front of its body. And its eyes…they were big and yellow like an owl’s but seemed…older. Instead of being a single color, the large orbs glowed yellow with dark stripes like a bumblebee. It almost appeared as if the lines in the eyes were moving. Strange small jagged eyelashes jutted out from the sides of the orbs. The owl eyed Cameron like she was an innocent mouse; she did not like the look at all.

 Cameron blinked and for a millisecond, she saw a bizarre being; what looked like a bird but with the head of a woman with white blonde hair and pale skin. Before she could comprehend what it was (a harpy), it had turned back into an owl in the blink of an eye. After letting out an ominous hoot, it vanished into the hole as Cameron’s father called her name. She hurried off to catch up to him.

 Cameron shook her head, convinced it was just her fearful imagination. No owl would come out and look through her like that.

 A strange sense of foreboding flowed through Cameron. She and her father quickened their pace.

  Back at camp, a low growling sound grew steadily louder.

 Growl. Crunch. Crunch. Tap. Tap. Tap.

 The sounds of steps and shuffling grew closer. Cameron’s mother looked around, holding a bratwurst in one hand.

 Grooooowwwlll….snort, snort.

 Hot breath on neck. Snapping of twigs.

 Cameron’s mother slowly turned around, meeting large dark eyes…

 A scream echoed out into the night, almost paralyzing Cameron in her tracks.

 “Dad?”

  It was shrill and pleading…and then it rang out again.

 Longer lasting screams and roars seemed to be coming from everywhere. The world seemed to be spinning.

 “What was that?!” Cameron cried.

 “I don’t know, but I have a feeling we need to get back,” said her father with concern. For the first time, he appeared sacred as well.

 Without hesitation, her father grabbed hold of her hand and raced as fast as his legs could carry him. Cameron briefly tripped over a log but her father picked her up. A sudden gust of biting wind pushed against them, but they still ran. They flinched from the sudden cold and the dust that flew in their faces. It drowned out the screams until they faded away. The wind came to a howling peak and then halted as they reached the clearing.

 Her father suddenly gasped and froze to a stop, Cameron almost bumping into him. His flashlight fell to the ground. There was the tangy smell of…Cameron figured it wasn’t the cooked dinner they had.

 “Stay back, Cameron!” her father ordered sharply, pushing her behind him. “And don’t watch!”

 But of course she did…then wished she hadn’t.

 Standing over a figure in the dirt was a monstrous brown bear. The bear bared his sharp teeth, paw on its food, mouth caked with blood. Tearing and squelching was heard. Crimson splotches looked jarring in the limited light. And underneath the bear was…

 “M-mom?!”

 In one swift motion, her father retrieved a gun he had safely secured behind him and took aim.

 Bang! Bang!

 Several shots rang out, deafening like bombs. Cameron covered her ears and yelped. A primal bellow of protest followed. The bear roared one last time before bounding and stomping away. Bush leaves rustled as a few more shots rang out. Her father yelled curses and raced toward where the bear had left.

 Creeping closer, Cameron sank to her knees and stared in disbelief. It was her mother…or what was left of her. Her face was ashen, dirty and pale, scratches all along her body. Her back and belly had disastrous bites, thick dark red blood oozing onto the grassy ground. Muscle and viscera were visible from the gashes.

 Cameron turned her mother’s face around and was met with guttural heaving breaths. The unnatural agonizing kind right before death.

 “Oh god, oh god, oh god…” Cameron muttered, voice cracking, eyes wide. “Somebody help! Help!” The smell made her gag, but she still stayed.

 Her mother’s eyes fluttered. She slowly reached a pale shaking hand toward Cameron. Cameron moved closer as both their hands met. The cold clammy hand squeezed her little fingers.

 “S-safe Haven…” she wheezed, staring long and hard into Cameron’s eyes. “You’ll do…g-great things. Unite them all. Stay safe, safe…”

 “Mom, w-what do you mean? Safe Haven, what?”

 “My a-angel…”

 Her mother wheezed and croaked again before her hand went limp, letting go of Cameron’s fingers. Her mother gave her one last kind look before her eyes glazed over. She had stopped moving. Nothing but cold flesh, blood and a lifeless form.  

 “Mom? Mom! Mooooom!!!”

 Cameron’s father pulled her back a bit. Without a word, Cameron’s father cradled his wife’s body as Cameron buried her face in her bloodstained clothes.

 Her father pulled her back a bit after gently lowing her mother to the ground. He closed her eyes with his fingers. She looked like she was asleep, even though she wasn’t. (Or if she was, it was eternal and dreamless. Or maybe she was already in Heaven; Cameron didn’t know). Cameron and her father stood silently still, embracing each other. Tears rolled down their faces, Cameron’s primal sobs echoing through the night. Her hands were stained with leftover blood. After about ten minutes of utter grief, her father looked at her.

 “Cameron, get in the car.”

 “W-why?”

 “Just do it.”

 A sternness and aloofness look appeared on his face, a look Cameron had never seen him make in front of her. The bright color and spark in his eyes had been snuffed out. Without waiting for another answer, her father picked her up, carried her over to the car and placed her in the back seat. The door closed. From outside, the fire was put out, leaving only dying embers and sad orange sparks. The light gray smoke curled into spirals, doing somber dances in the breeze before vanishing.

 Cameron waited in the back seat, curled up into a ball. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Her mother had been mauled by a bear before her eyes…and she could’ve been next! The ruthless face of the bear would haunt her memories for many years. Not long after, she saw flashes of red and blue light through the dirt-spotted windows. Her mother’s body was covered by a white sheet and taken on a stretcher by medics who had driven by. Fortunately, they still had decent cell phone service. Without another word, her father packed up the tent and all their belongings, tossing them in the back. He got in the driver’s seat and took them home on a long solemn drive.

 0 0 0

The funeral went as well as one would expect. Prayers and condolences were spoken and family members talked in hushed tones, all wearing black. Cameron glanced around passively at the stained glass church windows, sad and bored at the proceedings. Her mother’s coffin was gently lowered into the ground afterwards. Vivid flowers were placed everywhere; red, pink, white, yellow and purple. Being so young, Cameron later didn’t remember the funeral at all. All she knew was that an important part of her life had vanished.

 She and her father were never the same afterwards. As Cameron grew up and went to the dismal public school, he became preoccupied with his work. She hardly saw him much anymore. They grew distant, not in a bad way but similar to how different friends grow apart when their interests take them down new paths.

 Cameron went to therapy for a while, with Mrs. Winkler, a kind old lady. But the sessions didn’t seem to help. For one thing, Cameron’s fear of animals grew worse each passing year. The fact that she had taken a trip to the zoo with her father only deepened it.

 Her father had hoped that a new trip would cheer her up. But the animals would scare her as they roared and pawed at her through the glass when she watched. No one noticed a glowing golden apple which appeared in the exhibits…it let out light and made strange humming noises. The animals all threw themselves menacingly at Cameron with roars, hisses, and growls: Lions, tigers, bears, cheetahs…But it wasn’t just the predatory animals that somehow grew agitated at her. The flamingos squawked nosily, the gators snapped their jaws, and the monkeys would laugh and throw food at her which bounced off the cage wall. The sharks and birds, and oh goodness, the snakes too. The only animals that didn’t appear to pay her any attention were the fish. They just swam around and around as if nothing happened.

 Strangely enough, her father didn’t notice.

 “What has gotten into you, Cam?” he asked in disbelief after she screamed and sobbed. “Those animals aren’t attacking you.”

 “Y-yes they are!” she cried. “Didn’t you see?”

 But no one else seemed to notice either. They were just smiling and observing the animals like regular visitors. And the animals were doing their normal routines. A few people gave Cameron looks and raised their eyebrows.

 Her father pulled her close. “You’re almost a teenager. Stop acting like a sacred child.”

 “I-I know what I saw!” she sobbed. “I know it!”

 Her father sighed and merely said, “Let’s go home.”

 Cameron lowered her head. She used to enjoy the zoo more than anything…now she had an unbreakable fear of animals. (It had gotten bad to the point where she didn’t even want any pets.)

 Cameron didn’t see a grinning yellow face with matching eyes blending within the trees when she left the zoo. Nor did she hear its high pitched cackle. A slender hand held up a golden apple and the illusions replayed.

 Another thing that didn’t help was school. Cameron was smart enough in class (especially in literature) but was often bullied for her meekness. Many of the bullies would make animal sounds and jump at her from behind corners.

 “Look how sacred she is!” they would mock. “Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? And everything else in existence? Lamb Cam!”

 “Don’t call me that!” she spat. “It’s Cameron!”

 “Scram, Cam! Scaredy cat! Scaredy cat! Mrrow!”

 And the creepers too as she became a teen.

 “Ride me like an animal, Cam! Damn!”

 “Are you a turtle, dearie? Cause I’d love to fly through your tender shell…”

 “You must be a kitty cat, ‘cause you’ve got some fine pus…”

 “Don’t you finish that sentence!”

 After finally graduating high school hell, Cameron went to college. After hard work, she got her degree in Guidance Counseling. She figured she’d stray away from animals and gear more toward helping members of her own species. Helping others was her purpose…and getting her degree was a great accomplishment. Friends and boyfriends came and went. She soon lived on her own.  

 Getting a job, however…much easier said than done. No matter where Cameron looked or how many interviews she went to, they all seemed to dismiss her.

 “I’m sorry, you don’t have the right qualifications we’re looking for.”

 “We are currently reaching out to other applicants at this time. Thank you for your interest.”

 “No social skills…no experience…hmm…not quite fit for this position.”

 They always changed their minds at the last minute. Cameron never understood why.

 Cameron buried her face in her hands in her room. The fear and sorrow would never go away. The gray skies and the pattering of rain over the glum city matched her mood. She was now twenty-five years old, unemployed, and utterly alone.

 Her last hope was a new job position offered to her by a lady with white blonde hair. She had given Cameron her business card and office address: “KayCee: guidance counselor position interview, 12:00 sharp tomorrow.”

 Another failed interview, but she figured she’d give it a try.

 And then her nightmares. The nightmares that always seemed to come back. They were always the same. Cameron racing through the forest, being chased by every animal and mythical creature in existence. The gnashing of teeth, swipes of paws, being chewed on and swallowed into darkness. Then, thinking it was all over, she’d wake up…

 …only to see her mother’s dead body on the floor in front of her.

 “Monster! Monster!” a shadowy crowd chanted, surrounding her. But they were pointing their fingers at her, their glowing white eyes accusing.

 “No! No, I’m not a monster!” Cameron cried, looking down. Her mother’s head snapped up and her eyes were yellow and black stripes, eyelashes curling out on all sides. “Monster!” She let out a crazed laugh, white teeth sharp, tongue out, eyes rolling back.

 Cameron felt herself falling, falling, being watched by dozens of eyes. Eyes, eyes everywhere. Staring into her reflection, she gasped and screamed in horror. She saw her frightened blonde face, but her body consisted of white feathers, talon feet, a thin neck and bat-like wings. She was a harpy. An abomination…becoming what she feared itself.

 More screams as she fell down, down, her black pupils growing wider…

 0 0 0

Cameron’s pupils shrank back as she lay on her back on a couch. She wore a business casual light gray shirt and a dark skirt. A back headband sat on her golden brown hair, while a few strands hung from either side of her freckled face. The walls were stark gray on all sides. A lone palm frond plant sat in a pot to the side. A grandfather clock ticked quietly in the room, the pendulum swinging from side to side in rhythm.

 “I had that dream again…it was so vivid this time,” Cameron told Mrs. Winkler.

 “Perhaps your upcoming job assignment played a part in that?” The elder Mrs. Winkler suggested. The therapist wore a gray dress and took notes on a clipboard.

 “Maybe,” said Cameron. “But why that dream? I haven’t had it in so long. It was just…so unexpected.”

 Cameron sat up. “It was like reliving the whole thing. And bringing back all those memories.” She shuddered slightly, glancing off to the side. “I mean, I’ve been stressed out lately but…I’ve never had that dream so suddenly…”

 “Well, dear…” the therapist began, looking at her clipboard. “It sounds to me like…”

 Cameron glanced up at the clock, which chimed 12:00.

 “Oh! Oh my god, I’m late!” she cried. She leaned in, hands clasped. “Thank you so, so much for listening, Mrs. Winkler! Wish me luck!”

 Cameron grabbed her handbag, turned the doorknob and hurried out of the room. “Taxi!” she yelled as she bounded out of the building and down the steps. The rain poured down as she got in. She soon arrived at the other building.

 Inside the office, a voice came over through the PA with a bzzt.

 “Ms. KayCee. The 12 0’ clock is here…late.”

 “Send her in,” replied the woman. She had a tan face, long white hair and narrowed eyes that appeared to glow. She wore a gray business suit and a green pendant around her neck. She sat at her desk with an apple and a pencil holder off to the side. She glanced down at some paperwork in front of her, pen in hand. Rain pattered from outside the window.

 Cameron appeared in the doorway. “I’m so sorry I’m late!”

 “Come in,” said the woman.

 Cameron caught her breath and hustled over to the desk. “I uh…lost track of time.”

 “It’s quite…alright…”

 The woman glanced up in surprise, noticing Cameron’s wet hair.

 “It’s, heh…r-raining outside…” Cameron stuttered nervously, making a gesture.

 “Take a seat please,” said KayCee. “So we can begin to discuss your placement with this program.”

 Cameron lowered herself into a chair.

 “Again, so sorry for being late,” Cameron said.

 “It’s alright,” KayCee replied.

 Cameron nervously glanced off to the side. KayCee stared intently at Cameron, a faint yellow glow around her eyes. She rested her chin on her hands.

 Cameron raised an eyebrow, a faint chill racing through her body. “Do…I know you from some…”

 “Yes,” KayCee cut her off.

 Cameron knew that KayCee didn’t want to get into the déjà vu moments. After a brief moment of staring, KayCee cleared her throat and looked at the forms in front of her.

 “Well looking at your report and resume, I wasn’t able to find a suitable position for you. We don’t seem to have a vacant job here with need of your skills…”

 ‘Oh no. Not again,’ Cameron thought with dread.

 “I’m afraid there is not much I could do…”

 Cameron leaned forward and put her arms and elbows on the desk in a begging position. “Please! I really need this job! I have been waiting for an assignment for so long, there has to be something!”

 Lightning flashed and thunder cracked from outside as KayCee looked over the form again.

 KayCee observed the form. It read “Classified” in bold letters at the top. “Needed positions” “Possible applicants” were shown. “Guidance Counselor” was heavily circled underneath it. Off to the side read: “Agreement to transfer required.” “Must be informed of where.” Below was a “job applicants” list.

 “Well…” KayCee began. “You do have a degree in counseling, do you not?”

 “Yes! I do!” Cameron said. She didn’t even question how this lady knew that fact. “I’ll take it! Please!”

 “It’s a transfer position, it would require relocation,” KayCee mentioned.

 Cameron stood up and leaned into her face. “I’ll take it! Wherever it is, I’ll take it!”

 “Very well then,” said KayCee. “A private jet will take you from this building on Thursday, 9:00. I suggest you pack all your things.”

 Cameron raced over and hugged her. “Yes! Oh yes! Thank you!” KayCee’s eyes briefly turned white with glowing yellow stripes. She narrowed her normal eyes and deadpanned, “Don’t be late.”

 “Oh I won’t!” Cameron declared, stepping back. She put her hands together. “Thank you so much!”

 “You are quite welcome, Ms. Walden,” KayCee said, reaching for the red apple.

 “Oh! Call me Cameron!” Cameron took her bag and opened the door. “Thanks again!” she called before shutting the door with a click.

 “Hm, hm, hm, hm, hm,” KayCee chuckled lowly. Her fingers grew crooked and her black nails grew sharp. The apple in her hand vibrated and a golden spiral emerged from the center. Soon the apple was golden and glowing in her hand. KayCee lounged on her desk, knocking over the pencils in the holder off the desk with a foot.

 “No Ms. Cameron…” She then spoke in a high pitched echoing shrill, “Thank you!”

 In a flash of magic, KayCee had turned into her true form. A being with wild white poufy hair that sizzled with white electricity strands. She wore a white dress with holes in them. She grinned a sinister grin of sharp golden teeth. Her black and yellow striped eyes and long jagged eyelashes made her appearance all the more untamed. She let out an evil maniacal laugh.

 0 0 0

 “Salvia here again. As you probably have figured out, KayCee is no ordinary human. She is Eris, the Greek Goddess of Strife and Chaos. For she was the one who tossed the Golden Apple of Discord to provoke arguments between Aphrodite, Athena and Hera over who was the fairest goddess. Paris of Troy chose Aphrodite, igniting the Trojan War. Eris, along with Jestine and some other deities, exist to cause discord, nightmares and all sorts of trouble. KayCee/Eris indeed, sent Cameron to Safe Haven, knowing full well that she had no knowledge about the denizens of the destination. Her plan is thus: with Cameron fearing the animal residents and Safe Haven having been discovered by an outsider, the magic protecting it weakens over time. Eris hopes the barriers will eventually break, resulting in war and mass murders from the dark forces…and the humans. For the more chaos there is, the more her power grows. And she won’t stop until every world becomes her chaotic playground.”

 “None of us knows what Eris truly wants, but one thing is for sure. Cameron and all of us have to keep our guard up. Eris thrives on manipulation, deceit and black sorcery. To her, the apocalypse is an entertaining musical.”

 “For now, we continue our story of Cameron, who soon departs her hometown and embarks on her journey toward Safe Haven…”

 Chapter Two: “Cameron’s Arrival to Safe Haven” 

 It wasn’t long before Cameron arrived outside the building where she had her meeting with KayCee. The sky was clear but smoggy with tan pollution. The city silhouette stood in the background. She soon spotted the jet…which looked more like a dull forest green plane. The plane was old-fashioned with a propeller in the front and two wings on either side of the craft. It was dull green in color and decorated with black stripes. Cameron wore her usual gray clothes and carried her suitcase. At the ramp of steps, a figure stood waiting for her.

 “I’ve never been on a private j…plane, before. Are you the pilot, Miss…?”

 “Snake.” The woman answered in a low voice.

 “Snake?” Cameron asked in confusion.

 The woman had light green skin and strangled forest green hair decorated with dark specks. A pair of sunglasses rested on her head. She wore a green tank top, an emerald green scarf and a green-gray skirt. Long elbow-length gloves covered her hands and a white cigarette was in her mouth.

 “Interesting name,” said Cameron. “Does it mean anything?”

 Snake did not answer.

 Cameron continued, “Because I have never heard of someone naming a child something like that.”

 Had Cameron been anyone else, she would’ve gotten a harsh slap for the insult. Instead, Snake crossed her arms, holding her cigarette between two fingers. “Save the jaw-flappin’ fer later, hunny. I don’t wanna fly with a headache.” She dropped her cigarette and crushed it with her green high heel on the ground.

 Cameron flinched. “Oh! I-I’m sorry! I’m just a bit anxious…”

 Cameron walked up the steps and into the aircraft. “Going to new places and everything, ya know?”

 “Sure,” Snake answered with disinterest. “Just put a sock in it ‘till we get there.”

 Snake sat down and pulled various levers and pressed buttons. The plane was soon off the ground and flying over the city. The propeller spun fast and they zoomed away. Cameron sat nervously in her seat. ‘I hope this was a good idea,’ she thought to herself. ‘There’s no turning back now…’

 As the plane swooped over a vast forest, a spectral form of KayCee/Eris grinned mischievously against a large boulder, watching the plane. The sun rose over the hill in front of them, a promise of a new life and adventure.

 Snake piloted the plane, sunglasses over her eyes, lost in thought. She briefly cleaned her teeth with a toothpick in one hand, going around her two white fangs.

 Snake was in fact, a loner and shapeshifter, who could transform into a green snake at will. One of her friends was Taxi, a yellow werewolf who worked as a cab driver, mechanic…and merrymaker. She would drive monster trucks around while Snake would fly and fix various planes. The two of them bonded over their love of machines, smoking and drinking. Snake was also a secret agent in Safe Haven, skilled with guns and weapons. Her skills in stealth were so great, that she was soon hired by the Zoo Phoenix Academy staff to travel to the human world to retrieve recruits.  

 Snake, Taxi and Taxi’s werewolf friends would often party, drink and get into trouble. Although Snake had enjoyed it, she also was not proud that she had killed other people on the streets. So in a way, this job was fine with her.

 But then Cameron broke the tranquil silence.

 “Wow! I didn’t know the forest was this big,” she exclaimed. “We’ve been flying over it for hours…it’s like, endless!”

 Snake scoffed. “Yeah…why ya think it’s called the f*ckin’ “Oceania” Forest, hm? ‘Cause it’s big. What’d I say about talkin’?”

 Honk!

 Honk!

 Cameron looked out the window with a loud gasp. “Oh my…” A giant sky blue bird was honking outside her window. It was larger than any regular bird she had seen.

 “Snake!” Cameron wailed out loud, making Snake flinch. “T-there’s a giant bird outside the window!” Cameron grabbed onto her.

 “What?” Snake asked.

 “G-giant bird! It was huge…giant…! What if it attacks the plane?!”

 “Get back to yer seat!” Snake yelled, baring her fangs.

 ‘Snakes on a plane!’ Cameron thought in fear, after spotting her fangs.

 Cameron obliged and looked out the window. The bird was gone.

 ‘Great, now I’m seeing things…’ she thought.

 The sun set outside, turning the sky pink and yellow. Cameron sat, bored. She fell asleep as night fell. The next day, Cameron woke up, sunlight shining through the window.

 Snake was nowhere to be seen.

 “Hello?”

 She stood up and walked down the dark empty aisle.

 “Uh…what’s going on?”

 No answer.

 “S-Snake?!”

 Cameron looked out the window and saw a bunch of shadowy creatures outside.

 “Oh god.”

 Trying to be brave, she peered out the window.

 “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god…”

 “Surprise!” hollered the bizarre creatures.

 Cameron walked down the steps, stunned. There were so many strange new faces, she couldn’t keep track. Fabian the fox, Perci and Malcom the red and green dragons, Carrie the blonde demon, Zechariah the cheetah, Principal Winston the one with the yellow squid head, a teal eel with a monocle, a person with orange and yellow hair, a midnight blue stag, a yellow fox, and Salvia too. All the Zoo Phoenix Academy staff were there to welcome her.

 Cameron stared off into space, seeing the creatures. Was this some kind of prank? Were these just people in costumes trying to bully her again?

 Just then, Perci the dragon got into her face and said, “Welcome to the zoo, Cameron Walden! Well—hah! Of course it isn’t really a zoo! Sorta ironic that I just called it that, really! Hahahaha!”

 Cameron gulped. She felt like it was a zoo…a dangerous wacky one with escaped mythical creatures. Perci put an arm around her. The eel shook her hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, my dear!”

 Were these really talking animals?

 A strong hand lifted up Cameron’s arm as a tough light gray face with blonde hair inspected her.

 “She sure is a scrawny-gangly-shaky li’ thing, ain’t she?” Carrie remarked in a gruff voice.

 “Oh nonsense Carrie,” said Fabian the red fox. “I think Ms. Cameron looks perfectly fine.” He gave her a wink and a sultry look, Cameron cringing in disgust. Was that fox hitting on her?

 “I’ll take your word on that, Fabian!” called the blind green dragon teacher Malcom. His hair was black, skin light green. He walked up to her. “Good evening? Morning? Day!”

 There was a brief silence.

 “How about a kiss, pretty lady?” Fabian cooed, getting close to her with his tongue.

 “Eeeeiiiiahhhhhhee!”

 Cameron screamed at the top of her lungs. “S-stay back! A-all of you! Don’t come any closer!”

 The animals glared at her, teeth showing. Any moment, they would pounce on her. For several moments, Cameron could only hear growls, slurps, mutters and hisses.

 The cheetah rumbled in thought as the squid principal slurped his tea loudly beside him.

 Cameron took more steps back. “I-I mean it! Stay away from me! Stay away! D-don’t come any closer!”

 “Calm down, dearie,” Perci reassured. But Cameron only heard a strange growl from him that sounded like “Raaalmm, rrowwn, geeerrek!” She was too scared to properly comprehend the human speech.

 Cameron suddenly pointed behind them. “Look! What’s that over there?” She promptly dashed away with a zip while only Perci glanced behind him. The others narrowed their eyes in confusion.

 Cameron screamed some more before skidding to a halt. She gasped. “Oh my! What on Earth?”

 Before her lay a vibrant magical world beyond her greatest imagination. It was a cross between Jurassic Park, Zootopia and a child’s version of New York. A blue sea creature eel with three eyes slithered across a teal street with dark stones on it. A slender red bird appeared to be pulling a covered wagon in the distance. A yellow cab drove by a golden dragon and a yellow bird with long feathers. The buildings were curved, concaved and had glass coverings around them. There was a small pond, several sidewalks and lamps illuminating the small park below. Birds of many colors flapped and fluttered freely in the air, some of them looking like pterodactyls. A large red spotted wall had several archways of different sizes, green vines going up it and a large golden eye in the center. Several birds were perching on the top of the wall. A few waterfalls flowed through the arches of the wall. There were several dinosaurs too; a two headed blue longneck, a golden dinosaur with multiple eyes and a flap of skin on its head, and a violet triceratops that looked like a pincher beetle. Nearby buildings of blue, yellow and pink read “Gym,” “Liquor,” and “Le Crumbles” respectively.  

 Cameron shook her head. “This is not happening…I’m dreaming this.”

 Cameron felt something soft and furry press against her back. Without a word, her eyes darted upwards and met the gaze of a cheetah.

 “Is there something wrong, Miss?” asked the cheetah.

 But of course, Cameron only heard hungry growls. She saw the cheetah’s teeth and maw and felt lightheaded.

 “Uhhh…”

 This was it…she was now cat food. Her eyes rolled back and she fainted onto the ground. The cheetah rolled his eyes and sighed in concern.

 “Somebody get our new visitor to the infirmary.”

 “I can do it,” Fabian purred.

 “No. I got it,” barked Carrie, lifting up Cameron’s form easily.

 0 0 0

“Wuuuhh?”

 Cameron groaned and slowly opened her eyes. Her vision cleared and she saw a man with tan skin and blonde hair with bangs jutting off to one side. He wore a sky blue shirt, a torn white tie and dark pants. Cameron was lying on a table. In the dark room, a sky blue poster with a yellow smiley face read “Smile! It’s almost over!”

 “You okay, hun?” the man asked. He was Chastopher the nurse.

 “W-what’s going on?” Cameron asked, sitting up.

 “You are in the nurse’s office, my dear!”

 Cameron rubbed her head. “Oh thank god…I just had the worst dream ev…what is that?” Her face turned pale.

 The man held a red power drill in one hand. As he turned around, Cameron swore she heard the screeching music from “Psycho.”

 “Willis said you needed a checkup!” he babbled, leaning close to her face. “Willis is very smart, you know!”

 He hugged a stuffed lime-colored unicorn with a black button eye and flicked on the drill. The drill buzzed loudly, mixing with his crazed giggles.

 “Help!” Cameron screamed. She dove under his legs off the table and scrambled away. Cameron flung open the door and gulped with a pause. The cheetah was back, blocking her way.

 “Are you feeling better, Miss Walden?”

 “No.” Cameron replied, eye twitching. Why was she talking to a cheetah? Animals didn’t talk, yet here they were. She turned around, clutching her head. There had to be a way to escape.

 “Okay! O-kay! T-This is just a big crazy dream! Wake up! Wake up Cameron! Wake up!”

 “Wake up,” the nurse sang with a dopey expression, holding his toy. After closing her eyes, she opened them again. To her disappointment, she was still in the same place.

 “Are you finished?” the cheetah deadpanned, an annoyed look on his furry face.

 Cameron sighed. “Okay…I give up…w-what’s going on?”

 “Were you not informed about…”

 “About what? Informed about what?!”

 The cheetah stared at her in confusion. “You were not informed about this place before being sent here?”

 “Sent where? Where am I?!”

 Oh dear, this was going to be hard to explain. They needed a better place to talk.

 “Follow me, Miss...” said the cheetah, moving on four legs.

 Feeling like she had no choice, Cameron awkwardly obliged. Cameron peeked back toward the room and saw the nurse sleeping against his toy.

 “S-So…” Cameron began as she raced to catch up to the cheetah. “Y-you’re a giant cheetah?”

 “Yes.”

 “Just checking…”

 They walked past green lockers and into an office.

 “Have a seat, Miss,” said the cheetah. He mentioned to a large purple desk chair as Cameron slowly sat down.

 Sluurrrrppp!

 The principal with a yellow and red squid head with three lip-like designs on his forehead was slurping loudly from a pink teacup. He wore a dark business suit with buttons. A matching pink teapot sat at his desk and slobber dribbled onto the desk surface. Cameron darted her eyes toward him in bewilderment.

 The cheetah smiled. “Oh this is Principal Winston. He is quite harmless.”

 “Right…” Cameron breathed, pulling her knees closer together.

 The cheetah stared at Cameron with concern. He felt bad for this newcomer who had been so traumatized on her first visit. He remembered when he himself first arrived to Safe Haven, formerly being a regular cheetah and accidentally falling through a portal. He had magically gained the ability to talk thanks to Salvia and became one of the staff members at the school. Although he missed his original family, he had found other creatures like himself…a new family.

 Perhaps he could help Cameron be a part of it…quirkiness and all. But the hard truth had to come first.

 The cheetah straightened his spine and cleared his throat.

 “Well my dear Miss Cameron. I have some news for you. My name is Zechariah, and I regret to inform you that there seems to have been some sort of mistake with the company that employed you. You were hired to be a guidance counselor, correct?”

 “Y-yes.”

 “Well, all humans employed or chosen to be sent here are given strict details about this world, and it is their choice to be transferred.”

 Zechariah’s eyes glowed yellow and narrowed in suspicion. “Whoever sent you, did an incredibly dishonest thing…for once here, you cannot return to the outside world you once knew…”

 Cameron could hardly breathe. “S-So I’m stuck in the crazy magical world of oversized talking animals?”

 “I am afraid so, Miss.” Then he added in a more professional tone, “Also, this is an interspecies society. There are many different creatures. Not just ‘animals.’”

 Cameron shuddered with renewed terror. “Like what? Other scary things? Vampires?”

 “Yes.”

 “Mermaids? Demons? Ghosts?”

 “Yes.”

 “Aliens?”

 “Aliens do not exist, Miss Cameron.”

 “Where am I right now?” Cameron wondered out loud.

 “You are in the Zoo Phoenix Academy,” said Zechariah. “This is where you were employed. So we brought you right here. Would you like a tour?”

 “Okay?” Cameron hesitated.

 Zechariah held up his tail which had a watch on it. He spoke into the device. “Jackie, can you come to my office please?”

 “Absolutely!” a voice replied.

 Cameron grabbed onto Zechariah’s tail. “Who’s Jackie?”

 Cameron soon got her answer when a woman strolled into the room. “Hey, hey hey!” she trilled in a sing-song voice. Jackie wore a long dress in different shades of blue; navy blue at the top to sky blue at the bottom. Her dress had yellow trim around it and she wore matching yellow shoes. Her skin was light brown and her hair was in vibrant shades of blue, with yellow tufts toward the back and a green tip that served as a bang. Her hair was reminiscent of parrot feathers.

 She was a parrot shapeshifter…and she chatted like one too.

 She walked over to Cameron and eagerly shook her hand.

 “Hello, hello, hello! I’m Jackie! Drama instructor. So you are the new girl everyone’s talking about? What’s your name?”

 “Cameron,” she replied nervously.

 “You caused quite a scene huh, Cam?”

 “It’s Cameron.”

 Zechariah leaned over.

 “She is in need of a tour, Jackie.”

 Jackie put an arm around a stunned Cameron and guided her through the door.

 “Not another word, Zech! I got this!”

 0 0 0

 Jackie eagerly showed Cameron around the vast campus. Despite being inhabited by strange beings, Cameron couldn’t help but admire the buildings and scenery. The grass was bright green and fresh and the trees provided ample shade for hot days. The building exteriors were made of smooth glass and round in globe shapes. They walked through a cobblestone courtyard, where a fountain trickled in the center. On either side of the entrance, there were statues of phoenixes made of bloodstone, garnet and rubies. The phoenix was the mascot, symbolizing rebirth and new hope. “Rise from the ashes, soar into success!” was the academy motto.

 “I love our mascot, don’t you?” Jackie asked Cameron. Cameron mostly zoned out as Jackie chatted on and on. “Though I’d much prefer parrots! They’re so beautiful and lively. The school would do good to spread some more musical cheer. And parrots would be perfect! Just notice how well they can talk and sing. The Zoo Parrot Academy, wouldn’t have to worry about changing the acronym.”

 They soon walked through some double doors and into a vast chamber made up of the red spotted wall.

 “I really think you will love working here, Cam! This is the main lobby. All the subject wings branch off from here.”

 Reflected watery light of an aquarium danced around the floor and walls. Jackie guided Cameron through a large room with an elevator and long tan chairs off to the side. A winding green staircase swirled up to an upper level with glass panes and a marvelous view of the outside. Several archways branched off to different sections. They passed under an arch, which was against a light blue wall, leading to the aquarium. Inside, Cameron could see a friendly-looking fish, a hammerhead shark, a swordfish and a bottlenose dolphin gliding playfully through the water.

  “Have I gone insane?” Cameron breathed as she looked up at the aquarium ceiling in wonder.

 “No, not really!” Jackie replied.

 One archway had a grandfather clock beside it, another was adorned with red curtains and another was supported by Greek pillars.

 Cameron stopped for a moment as Jackie turned around.

 “You ready?” she asked.

 Cameron stood there puzzled as Jackie wandered off toward the stairs. Jackie looked at her and laughed sheepishly.

 “What? Did you think I was gonna be like ‘Come, I’ll show you my wing first?!’”

 Cameron nodded.

 “Oh, that would be kinda silly. I mean, why not save the best for last?! There are so many great places to explore here, wouldn’t want to deprive you of the diverse experience, ya know?”

 Cameron let out a small understanding smile. “Thank you.”

 “Alrighty! Let’s flutter on up! Heh…or walk, rather…”

 Cameron rolled her eyes as she followed Jackie up the stairs.

 They walked into the first wing supported by Greek pillars, and Cameron could smell the scent of dusty books.

 “This is the library!” said Jackie. Then she covered her mouth, speaking softer. “I forgot I’m supposed to whisper in here!”

 Going inside, there were rows and rows of books on shelves all around them. Some were leather bond with yellowed pages while others looked brand new. There were also magazines and modern computers on round desks where students were doing their work. Several winged birds were busy organizing the books on the higher shelves, which arched toward the high stained-glass ceiling. The ceiling had glass designs of owls, phoenixes and trees. At the front desk, a camel lady with thin glasses was busy exchanging books with passerby.

 “Here you’ll find everything you need to study on counseling techniques, textbooks or just reading for fun. It’s the go-to place for research of all kinds. The students here are teenagers but we have majors and college-like courses in this high school!”

 “Quiet!” whispered a nearby gray owl with a monocle at Jackie.

 “Sorry!” she whispered.

 “Well…that’s quite something,” said Cameron.

 “I know, right? Trying to combine different curriculums, school systems and diverse races and species of students can be a lot of work. But thankfully the founders of Safe Haven helped out tremendously.”

 “And they are?” Cameron asked.

 But Jackie instead got distracted and waved at a red-haired woman in the distance.

 Toward the back of the library was a shadowed section labeled “Restricted Section,” which housed books on dark magic. Sitting at the edge of that section on a chair was Salvia with a book in hand. Jackie guided Cameron over to the red-haired woman. They stopped just short of her.

 Salvia lifted up her face slightly from a book labeled “Romeo and Juliet 2: Love and Lies.” She wore a black dress with red etched patterns.

 “Can I help you?”

  “This is Salvia, one of the staff members,” said Jackie in an excited whisper. Jackie gestured for Cameron to introduce herself.

 “Uh…hi,” Cameron said with a nervous grin and wave. Salvia peered at her closely, her eyes hidden behind her hair. “You’re the newcomer, right?”

 Cameron nodded.

 “Welcome to Z.P.A.,” she said.

 “Huh?”

 “Zoo Phoenix Academy, the place you’ll be staying at briefly until we can get you a new home nearby.”

 Cameron paced back and forth, anxious again. “No one has explained exactly what is going on here, what this place is, what’s it called?” Cameron asked. “I know you guys are trying to keep me from getting scared but I’ve had it with being confused! Explain things to me.”

 “Shhh!” several voices shushed Cameron when she raised her voice.

 “Oh of course,” said Salvia, putting the book down and conjuring magical images and sigils in front of her. “Might as well explain it to you now rather than wait three whole weeks later after witnessing a vampire attack to do it.”

 “W-What?” Cameron asked before she was shushed again.

 “I can see glimpses of the future,” Salvia mentioned. “Anyway, Cameron, you’ve only been exposed to the Zoo Phoenix Academy and its grounds…we were gonna wait until you felt more comfortable with the school but, if you insist on knowing this place…”

 “Yes, I’m still a capable adult,” Cameron added.

 “This place is much bigger than what you have experienced. It is called…Safe Haven.”

 (“Salvia here. For the next few minutes, I described the magical protection and the origins of Safe Haven that I had already verbalized in the introduction narration. Feel free to go back if needed but let’s skip and continue on.”)

 Cameron stood, jaw dropping. “Oh my God! There really are monsters out there?!”

 “Do not worry,” said Salvia. “As long as you’re here, you should be safe. I’m hoping you’ll get more used to this place and not cause the magical barrier to eventually collapse.”

 “I’d never do that!”

 “Not intentionally. But someone else wants to make sure that happens.”

 “Who is it?” Cameron asked, but Jackie stood in the way, much to the annoyance of Cameron and Salvia.  

 “Thank you Salvia,” said Jackie with a nervous chuckle, pushing Cameron along, “But we better get going! Heh, heh! So many things to see.”

 Salvia gave Cameron a knowing apologetic look before going back to her book.

 Moe shushes followed them out of the library. “Whew, I can speak again!” Jackie boomed as they entered a hall with brass walls. Jackie’s voice echoed off the walls. “Echo! Echo!” Cameron flinched and grit her teeth.

 “On with the tour!” They passed through another archway flanked by torches and five golden rings overhead. “This is the Sports Wing!” said Jackie as they walked down the hall. “Here you’ll find our gymnasium, our pool, outdoor courts and dance studios.”

 Cameron looked through a glass window at an indoor basketball court. The court walls were decorated with vines. A monkey was busy swinging from the vines with his tail, dribbling a basketball in his hands. A bear, a bull, a ram, a goat and a chipmunk were stomping around, trying to get the basketball. The monkey dunked it into a nearby hoop as a zebra coach blew his whistle.

 Outside in the courtyard, a few lions were practicing fencing while a fox and a hare did gymnastic tricks on bars. Several cheetahs raced each other along a round track and a black bearded centaur hopped over hurdles along the way. A dog and a cat were busy playing hand ball. A few hyena hybrids snickered as they taped a “kick me” sign on the back of a student with peacock feathers.

 In a swimming pool, a boy with shark features and a girl with blue scaly skin laughed as they raced each other down the lanes. A woman with swan feathers was preening herself in a hot tub as several male ducks peered for a closer look. A mermaid relaxed beside her, staring at her reflection.

 Several brightly colored werewolves were listening to blaring electronic music in the weight room as they lifted barbells and rapidly punched hanging bags. A lone black-wearing vampire stood in the corner drinking dark red liquid from a bottle. The boxing ring was currently being used by bi-pedal boxer dogs.

 “Too much sweat and exertion for me,” Jackie mentioned. “I’m more for the grace and beauty of the theater! Onward!”

  They soon left the Sports Wing and headed through the arch with the grandfather clock.

 “Here is the History Wing!”

 They walked around what looked like a museum, with a variety of items on display. There were ceramic pots from ancient civilizations within glass boxes all around. Various paintings were hung from the walls, with signatures. Several weapons were on display further back. Among the weapons were a few that glowed white with swirls and crosses.

 “Oh, those are angelic weapons. They are highly valuable and rare. It is said that they can kill any demon in Hell.”

 “Why not use them to fight off the monsters?” asked Cameron.

 “Good question. Some demons gather the weapons and sell them on the black market for later use. They kill each other off, causing lots of chaos. Heaven’s been using the Exorcists who wield these weapons to eliminate demons each year for centuries. Archangel Adina’s idea to insure ‘purity’ up there.”

 “How do you know all this?”

 “A friend of a friend of an ex told me. Horrible stuff, I’m telling you. Best to lay low and stay safe.”

  They continued onward past treasure chests, antique clothing and various art of mythical creatures in battle or passionate embraces. Exiting that wing, they turned toward another wing made of metal.

 “Ah, the Science and Engineering Wing! Perhaps the most confusing and loud section there is. Try not to touch anything!”

  It was indeed very loud. Clanks, hisses, bangs and booms permeated through the rooms. Cameron had to cover her ears as she followed Jackie. In one area, raccoons, cats and a few dwarves were working on a metal machine that bellowed smoke and sparks. It had wheels, engines, pipes and canvas wings on either side of it. “Primitive flying car” was labeled next to it. A gopher was working on a computer as green 0s and 1s blinked down a screen. A few other students were taking notes on a steampunk blimp made by a snake inventor of the Industrial Revolution.

 There were also several dimmed laboratories illuminated with teal blue fluorescent lights. Blue flames flickered under Bunsen burners while students peered through microscopes at their ant friends. A blue anglerfish man was pouring colorful contents from different vials together, snickering. A mad scientist in a lab coat was instructing one class on how to make a serum that could strengthen the DNA of animal hybrids.

 “Let’s move on,” Jackie coughed, swiping away the nearby smoke.

 They exited the wing and had arrived at the vast bustling cafeteria.

 “The heart…erm, stomach of the campus!” Jackie joked.

  Rows of white tables hosted hungry students and staff. Several birds were slurping up bowls of worms. Werewolves were munching on raw meat while horses chewed casually on hay blades. There was also regular food for the more human-like beings as well: salads, sandwiches, soups, potatoes, tacos, casseroles, stews, banquet style meals, fruit desserts and ice cream. There was even a stand giving out spectral food for ghosts. Like many college eating areas, there were various sections serving different kinds of dishes like a miniature food mall. It was an all-you-can-eat paradise.

 Cameron’s stomach grumbled as she inhaled the scents of exotic foods. But Cameron soon led her out and back to the main lobby.

“And now, for the best and last part of the tour…” she led Cameron through the wing with red curtains. Rusty and another spotted animal watched them go from the top of the stairs.

 “This is the Arts Wing!”

 Jackie held her arms in the air as they walked down a hall. The walls were red and decorated with spirals. A poster with a comedy and tragedy theater mask shone within a frame of lights. There was a red “Just Dance” poster and a green movie posted with a clawed black hand labeled “Now showing: The Ded.” There was a painting of a waterfall and a nearby forest.

 Cameron looked around. “Oh my, never woulda guessed…”

 Jackie laughed. “Hahaha! Sarcasm! I like you Cam!”

 They stopped by the dance room and pushed open the double red doors.

  “Baby! I got someone for you to meet!” Jackie trilled.

 A man with the same colored skin as Jackie, clapped his hands. A group of girls, Mia and Ava, Penelope and Camilla were in pink tutus and ballet slippers doing practice.

 “Okay girls! Once you’re warmed up…Jackie!”

 The man turned around and beamed.

  “Oh god…” Cameron looked in disgust.

 The man wore a vibrant red pinstriped suit with blue vertical stripes on it. His bow tie was yellow with red and blue dots on it. His hair was mostly red with a white spot to the left side and blue tips toward the bottom back. His hair also resembled parrot feathers. He currently wore dark blue pants, pointed black shoes and a pink tutu. He also had a gold tooth.

 He leaned into Cameron, his eyes golden yellow.

  “Salutations senorita! Name?”

 “C-Cameron.”

 “Soopity, doopity to meetcha! My name is Alanzo but call me Al! It’s shorter!”

 He also eagerly shook Cameron’s hand before hugging his wife.

  “Heh, nice to meet you,” Cameron began. “So what subject do you…”

  “Dance!” Alanzo explained with a flourish.

 Jackie chuckled nervously, guiding Cameron out of the room. “Well honey, we gotta run. Got a lot of school to show!”

  “You do yer thang, gal!” Alanzo said with a snap of his fingers.

  “So he was…” Cameron began as they walked out of the room and down the hall.

 Jackie smiled. “That was my husband. We both work in this wing!”

 Jackie showed Cameron more rooms.

 “And here is…the Art Room!”

 Addison and his adoptive Indian snake mother Latika were busy painting on a canvas. A vivid painting of a flying phoenix hung in the background.

  “The Music Room!”

 Calvin, a yellow crocodile with a black and yellow back with squares on it, played a tuba, which matched his color scheme. A smiling brown fox named Christopher played a white saxophone with blue swirls on it. A black porcupine named Priscilla played a black cello.

 Dodododo do-do-do-do…they played a cheerful tune that sounded like Gooseworx’s two Zoophobia themes. (Look it up on YouTube!)

  “The Film Room!”

 A white and gray wolf twin (Leonardo or Vincent) held onto a fire hydrant with a joyful expression as a fan blew him back. A green screen was in the background. A cheetah, a gray-haired student and the other wolf twin looked at a screen in bewilderment. Another guy with a black hat, flinched from the force of air.

  “Why do the animals have giant fans?” asked Cameron.

  “Guess they got a bigger budget!” Jackie exclaimed.

 “But why?”

  “Their last film almost did win at the festival,” Jackie pondered.

 At last, they entered a vast auditorium.

 Jackie spread out her arms. “And here is my domain! The Theater!”

 Cameron glanced down at a group of figures sitting on the stage.

 “A-are those your students?”

 Jackie wiped a tear from her eye. “Yep! They are my little prodigies!”

 Then she trilled in a sing-song voice: “Good afternoon my sparkling little turtle doves!”

 “Hey Jackie!” the students harmonized in song.

 To Cameron’s bewilderment, an orange fox named Spam, peered at her from atop her head…then licked her face randomly before scampering off.

 Spam, Penelope, Jack, Makenzie, Zillion, Kayla, Sahara, Daimon, Taylor and Vanexa were all there.

 Penelope wore a stylish white dress and a teal headband with two peacock feathers on it. She was currently admiring herself in a small hand mirror. Mackenzie the cat girl had messy red hair, pale skin and a lavender shirt with a cat on it. She saw herself as a cat after being raised by her equally cat-loving mother Margo.

 Jack was a light brown jackal with a worn down body and droopy ears. Zillion was a mix up of creatures and had yellow skin, purple eyes, purple antennae-like ears and a small green snake for a tail. Taylor was a guy with red sclera eyes, light brown hair with purple sides, and he wore brown clothing. He and Zillion were currently locked in an arm wrestling match.

 Kayla the beautiful kangaroo was Zillion’s girlfriend; she was happily perched on top of the black grand piano. Sahara was a dark skinned woman wearing a pink head scarf over her dark hair. She had an affinity for magic. Behind her was a darker colored jackal Damion, with red pupils, black sclera and wearing tattered clothes of red and black. Finally, Vanexa was a purple bi-pedal cat, reading a book with a disinterested look on her face. She viewed those around her in a detached annoyance.

 ‘These are her students?! Just more magical freaky animals?! How crazy can this world get?!’ thought Cameron.

 Zillion pinned down Taylor’s arm, much to the latter’s annoyance. “Who’s your friend, cracker jacks?” he asked Jackie.

 Jackie put an arm around Cameron. “This here is your new guidance counselor fellas!” Cameron awkwardly looked off to the side.

 “Oh good!” Jack and Damion called at the same time.

 Damion smirked sarcastically, “I need a lot of ‘guidance!’”

 Cameron walked over and pointed at Zillion. “Um sorry, I hate to ask but…what exactly are you? I want to know how scared I should be…”

  “Well I…” Zillion began to explain but Jack snickered with a “Kekekeke!” from beside him. Zillion glared at Jack.

 “Pass,” Zillion deadpanned. “Not even I know what I am.”

 McKenzie sniffed Cameron for a moment, then let out a “Hiss!” It was her habit among strangers. Cameron flinched in confusion.

 Damion chuckled and leaned toward Cameron. “You really got your work cut out for you, lady! Just sayin’.”

 Cameron stared at him. “H-how are you floating like that?”

 Damion grinned. “Oh well it’s because…” He turned on a flashlight under his face and bared his fangs wide, his eyes swirled stripes of red against black. “I’m the Antichrist! Hahahahaha!”

 Cameron almost felt like fainting again.

  Jack inched closer to Cameron with an apologetic look. “I’m really sorry about my cousin!” He smiled and clutched her hand. “Hello! My name is Jack! And I would like to schedule with you as soon as possible!”

 Cameron raised an eyebrow. “Uh, okay?”

 Jack let go. “Sorry! It’s been a while since I had someone to talk about my problems…”

 Clang!

 A stage light fell down and collapsed on top of Jack. He fell to the floor in a heap. A pool of dark blood was visible on the floor around his head. One of his paws had an exposed bone. Cameron covered her mouth in fear and shock.

 “Aw man! Not again! You okay dude?” Zillion asked in concern.

  Zillion turned to Cameron. “Yeah, this happens a lot. He’ll be alright.”

 “Hey, Jackie! Another light fell!” Taylor called.

 “I saw it!” she answered.

 “So Cam!” said Jackie. “Do you wanna stick around for the class?”

 “I’m sorry to say…I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed,” Cameron breathed in almost a whisper.

 “Understandable, hun! Vanexa, would you mind escorting Cam to her office?”

 The purple cat nodded and led the way, book in hand.

 Jackie turned back to the class and clapped her hands. “Alright guys! Showtime!”

 They soon reached a pair of wooden doors underneath a sign that read “Guidance.”

  “T-thank you. V-Vanexa was it?” Cameron asked nervously. Vanexa did not answer. There was an awkward silence as they looked each other in the eyes. They each seemed to be trying to decipher the other’s thoughts. Cameron coughed.

 “W-well…yeah…good evening to you, talking cat…” Cameron stuttered.

 “Enjoy your stay,” said Vanexa before she walked back down the hall.

 0 0 0

Cameron slammed the door shut behind her, catching her breath. Her office was small and dimly lit with a few books on one shelf to the left. A palm plant was off to one side and blinds were in the center of a yellow wall. In the center was a desk with a couple chairs and “C. Walden” on a label. A pink gift bag lay on her desk with a bunch of strange items inside; a pink flower with yellow tips, a green dragon figure, and what appeared to be cosmetics. Cameron read the tag on the gift: “Dear Cameron, Welcome to the Family! Z.P.A. Staff.”

 Cameron smiled slightly at the thoughtful gift.

 Cameron was reminded of Mrs. Winkler’s office…and then was reminded of home. This small space didn’t feel much like home.

 “How are you coping with things thus far, Cameron?”

 Cameron whirled behind her and spotted Zechariah the cheetah.

 “Holy mother of…please d-don’t do that…”

 “My apologies,” he said.

 Cameron sighed. “Yeah…well all things considered…” She slide down onto the floor, overwhelmed.

 “I’m sure this is a lot to handle,” said Zechariah.

 “Yeah…”

 “This place will take some getting used to, Miss. Miss?”

 To Zechariah’s surprise, Cameron was sniffing and sobbing, burying her face in her knees. This was not how Zechariah imagined the newcomer would feel.

  “I am truly sorry this has happened to you, Miss,” Zechariah said empathetically. “I wish there was more I could do…”

 Although stern on the outside, Zechariah had a sweet and protective heart. Being a staff member had gotten him exposed to more human emotions. As the ZPA staff had welcomed him during his arrival to Safe Haven, it was no wonder that he went out of his way to try and do the same for others.

 Zechariah nuzzled his furry face into Cameron’s like a comforting cat. Cameron didn’t flinch this time. In fact, she cried and wrapped her arms around the cheetah. She didn’t care that he wasn’t a regular human. She just needed something…someone to give her comfort. Someone to let her know she wasn’t alone in this strange new world. Zechariah’s warm soft chest felt good to Cameron…like a comforting blanket or a pet. Zechariah stared in brief surprise, before closing his eyes and embracing the gesture. Cameron reminded him of when he had been a young cub, trying to find his place.  

 Cameron’s animal-loving side from her childhood briefly came back…before it faded with the moment of their separation.

 “There is…something you may like to see,” mentioned Zechariah in a soft voice. He had an idea. “This way, Miss.”

 Cameron followed Zechariah up the stairs and into the observatory.

 “W-what’s up here?” Cameron asked.

 Then she looked skyward and gasped.

  “Oh my god…”

 Shimmering in the starry night sky were glowing yellow koi fish floating in the air. They had yellow skin, glowing white eyes, white lines and spot designs across their bodies. One large fish had a yin-yang symbol on its forehead and was as big as an airplane. Their fins were transparent and flowing gracefully like they were angel wings underwater.

 “These are guardian fish spirits,” said Zechariah. “The Fish of Peace. They appear when everything is safe. Similar to the butterfly orcas, used to calm anxiety.”

  “How…how’d you know I like fish?” Cameron breathed. “This is…beautiful!”

 ‘Salvia’s magic of course,’ Zechariah thought.

 Zechariah purred. “Welcome home, Miss Cameron.”

 A magnificent ocean-colored whale swam by among the fish, decorated with bioluminescent spots along its back.

 For several minutes, the two of them stared in wonder at the ethereal spirits. Cameron felt like maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all. Especially with her new furry friend and mentor.

 Then a question spilled out of her mouth.

  “So…where am I going to live anyway?”

 One of the fish in the sky turned a deathly white and took on yellow and black stripped eyes. She peered closely at Cameron. “And so it begins…”

 0 0 0

 One day later, an earth-colored griffin-like creature named Skoni pulled a cart of packages around the street. He sang the “Mail Time” song out loud:

 “Here’s the mail

It never fails

It makes me want to wag my tail

When it comes, I wanna wail

Mail!”

 He stopped and knocked on Cameron’s door.

 Cameron cracked open the door of her new small home. “Y-yes?”

 “Package, ma’am!”

 Cameron took the package and stared at Skoni. He suddenly appeared to be sprouting eyes all over his body…

  “Get away monster!” Cameron cried, waving a bat at him.

 Skoni looked taken aback. “You just arrived yesterday, lady! I’m here to deliver your mail! Gaah!”

 “Demon!” Cameron yelled, squirting hose water in his face.

  “Fine!��� Skoni scoffed. “Have a nice day!”

 Cameron blinked a few times and saw a regular pouting Skoni trot away. “Oh you were just delivering the mail again... Sorry!”

 Eris (or “KayCee”) laughed as the Skoni illusion replayed from her golden apple. She ate a sub sandwich in the darkness. “So let’s get this party started then, shall we?”

Chapter Three: “Jack’s Counseling Session”

Cameron’s first test of her new career began several days later. Jack had mentioned that he wanted to get an appointment with her as soon as possible. And by sheer luck, his desire was granted. (However, he had to deal with several shoves from Rusty, slipping on a banana peel and tripping on the sidewalk several times on his way there.)

 Cameron glanced at a long list of confidential session notes provided to her by Salvia for the week:

 Client One: Jackson Wells. Concern: Daily bad luck.

Client Two: Addison Woods. Concern: Trauma from experimentation in Xirxine labs.

Client Three: McKenzie Payoray. Concern: Daily bullying and coping with feline lifestyle.

Client Four: Damion Beelzly. Concern: Proper educational environment.

Clients Five and Six: Zillion Martinez and Kayla Christling. Concern: Anniversary troubles.

Client Seven: Vanexa Pierce. Concern: Solitude and fitting in.

Client Eight: Camilla Jimenez. Concern: Dancer, hopeless romantic, doesn’t like her rep.

Client Nine: Autumn. Concern: Increase self-worth.

Client Ten: Tom. Concern: Break up with Addison and stealing souls.

Client Eleven: Daphne Dafadellia. Concern: Being less judgmental toward men.

Client Twelve: Rusty (Call him by his real name Reuben, he hates it). Concern: Bullying issues.

 (Don’t mind my mind reading.)

 Cameron smiled as she stood on a chair and hung up a sign on her office door that read “Ms. Walden. ZPA Guidance.”

 She placed a small green tree in a pot on a side table, hung up a blue poster of two fish that read “Just keep swimming,” and placed a golden dragon statue on a side table as well. Her desk was polished and had a label on it with her name. She stepped back and observed her handiwork.

 “Mhm! Much better!”

 She glanced at her watch and sat down at her desk, arms folded in front of her.

 ‘Okay, you can do this,’ she encouraged to herself. Her heart jolted when she heard a knocking at the door.

 Jack peered into the room.

 “Um Ms. Walden? I’m uh, here for my session…”

 “Oh yes! Jackson, good morning to you,” greeted Cameron. She mentioned to a purple beanbag chair on the floor. “Please take a seat and we can get started! Hope you don’t mind bean-bags…”

 Jack settled onto the bean-bag, enjoying the comfort. “Naw, they are actually really nice, heh…Also I, um, like what you did with the new room! It’s very humble!”

 “Thank you!”

 Cameron placed a hand under her chin with a sheepish grin. “Yes I’m…very thankful to Zechariah for letting me change rooms. I kinda have a weird connection with my surroundings. The old room was just a little too intimidating on first arrival…”

 “Yeah, I understand what you mean…” mentioned Jack.

 Cameron cleared her throat. “So! You are my first official counseling session here at Z.P.A.! Is there um, anything bothering you at all that you would like to talk about? Anything!”

 Jack stuttered, already beginning to feel a sort of crush for her. Cameron had appeared so nice on her first day and he figured maybe she could ease his current situation a bit. “Umm…well…I think for things I tell you to make sense…I have to kinda fill you in a bit about...myself...and my “condition,” or well…my curse…”

 Jack then explained his origins.

  “You see…my parents were extremely close…according to my mother. And when she got pregnant with me, they were very excited. But…before I was born, my father was killed in a very freak accident. My mother was devastated by it. In desperation, she turned to her sister. My aunt Narissa, who…well is married to the devil…as creepy as that sounds. She begged him to make a deal but as a gift to his wife, he granted my mother her wish. To give her unborn child the gift of eternal life…But the devil’s magic works in very odd ways…so his gift was really a curse. When I was born, he cursed me with immortality…along with a supernatural affinity for bad luck…and, heh…thing is…I still feel pain…”

 He barely remembered himself as a pup, flinching in a grass bed as Lucifer’s long dark finger shot a bolt of hot magic through him…burning him to his very core.

 His mother was grateful she didn’t have to worry about him dying, but was concerned about the bad luck.

 Jack glanced off to the side. “So, um, yeah. Not being able to die on top of the very crazy, often violent things that happen to me…with the pain…it um…yeah…not fun.”

 Jack looked at Cameron in concern.

 “You okay, Miss. Walden? I’m sorry if my story is a little strange…”

 “No…” Cameron replied. “I’m just…still getting used to hearing about the…supernatural things…and the devil being real…”

 Cameron continued. “Phewww…I am very sorry for your situation, Jackson. It sounds…simply dreadful. What else would you like to share about your hardships? I can tell there is a lot you have to tell…”

 Jack twiddled his thumbs. “I really hope you don’t mind me talking a lot about myself. I just think it’s a good idea to fill things in.”

 “No Jack, it’s fine,” Cameron encouraged. “It helps to know these things!”

 “Yeah, I’m sorry, it’s just…been a while since I explained this stuff. I don’t often tell people about the curse anymore.”

 “Why is that?”

 Jack buried his face in his hands as he explained.

 “Well because…It just gets hard explaining it over and over to people…why so much crazy stuff happens to me, around me. And the moment I mention that it is an actual “curse,” people immediately get sacred to be around me. I can’t really blame them; they don’t want to get hurt. But…sometimes I don’t really like it. I don’t like people avoiding me out of fear. And I don’t like people thinking I’m making it up for attention!”

 Cameron was reminded of how many people with disabilities felt similarly about having to explain their conditions to other people who didn’t experience them. Some had trouble walking or controlling their bodies. Others felt chronic pain or experienced constant negative thoughts in their heads. Their disabilities were things they were born with and had no control over. Similar to Jack’s bad luck.

 Jack continued. “It just gets a little stressful sometimes, plus some people think I’m pretty…well, weird ‘cause the whole curse thing and my luck has made me pretty superstitious. It really doesn’t help how people see me with all my behaviors and, um, customs. Heh. (You’d feel the same if you noticed me with four ladybugs on my ears, four leaf clovers and a dreamcatcher around my neck, a rabbit’s foot and dice hanging from my legs and me holding a cricket in a cage. Trying every good luck charm imaginable to counteract the bad. Of course, nothing works.) Most people here kinda avoid me for the most part just seeing what kind of stuff happens and finding me odd.”

 “Do you have any real or close friends, Jack?” Cameron asked.

 Jack brightened. “Oh yes! I have a few. And honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without my best friend Zill…”

 “I think I know him…in Jackie’s class, right?” Cameron asked. “What creature is he anyway?”

 “I have no idea! I’m not sure he knows either. In fact, he always seems confused about it.”

 “He doesn’t know?”

 “I don’t think so!”

 “So how long have you known Zill?”

 “Since I found him! About thirteen years now,” said Jack.

 Cameron appeared confused. “I…I’m sorry, you ‘found’ him?”

 “Yeah!”

 “What do you mean by that?”

 Jack chuckled a bit. “Oh heh-yeah sorry, let me explain!”

 Jack then explained the next part of his origins.

  “I was born in Safe Haven’s animal district. It’s a kind and more natural environment, so my upbringing was more ‘traditional,’ I guess. My mom never really explained my curse to me when I was younger. I just thought the world was against me and that she didn’t even care. So I ran away from home a lot back then. I just felt I had to escape somehow.”

 “It was never much help, but I seemed to kinda enjoy the time away from her. I remember the last time I ran away, I was like five, and during a really foggy rainy night, I took shelter in a tree. I heard some growling in the forest. It was really scary at the time, cause most animals in the district respect private boundaries, plus I was young too…heh. I heard this creature emerge from the bushes. He approached the entrance to where I was hiding. His eyes were glowing green. I had never seen anything like him before and I was extremely scared. He was just really curious of me I think, but he behaved much more…well bestial than what I was used to. He was like…well, an ‘animal,’ which was new for me. Most animals in the district can still speak universally! Especially upon first meeting.”

 “Zill was extremely wary of me and I was just terrified! But really he was just extremely curious of me. Unlike me, Zill was just unafraid and bold! Also surprisingly unfazed by my curse. (He put back my broken arm like it was nothing.) In fact, for the first time, I had met someone who not only was unfazed by it, but he actually…intervened! (After water poured on my head from a leaf, he used his wing to keep me dry.) So really, Zill meant a lot to me, almost right off the bat.”

 “We actually kinda lived together in the forest for like a full month, getting to know each other as friends. He didn’t talk to me at first, but when he started to talk, he only spoke Spanish! Which was like jibberish to be…heh. So the language barrier was still there, yet we still understood each other somehow. After a while I decided to actually bring Zill home with me! My mom was beyond happy I was back. But she actually didn’t take very warmly to Zill.”

 He remembered going along with Zill, with his mother being worried that Zill might harm him. He then told his mother that he didn’t need constant protection all the time.    

 “How did Zill get his name?” Cameron asked.

 “Oh! Well, he spelled his name for me in the dirt while we were in the forest.”

 Cameron listened with intent curiosity. “It’s interesting he was so intelligent, despite living in the forest!”

 “Well I mean lots of intelligent animals live in the wild! But I understand what you mean. Zill did come off as pretty primitive at first.”

 “So did you two live together?”

 Jack nodded. “Actually we did! For a little while before we officially started school! Zill was with us through the move to the city district. During those first years, I taught him how to speak English. (Notecards with pictures and words on it were helpful for us. He’d read words like “apple” and lots of food terms to start off with.) By the time we did first start school, he was already decently bi-lingual! A lot of other kids would call Zill names and stuff cause of how he looked. But he never let it get to him though.”

  “But when I was picked on…”

 Jack remembered Zill admiring a butterfly before he was knocked to the ground by a hard dodgeball to the face. Rusty the bully dog laughed after Jack had fallen.

 “Haha! Take that you wimpy loser!”

 Zill growled and his eyes flashed green. He shot a flaming dodgeball back at Rusty which hit him in the face with a “wham!” Green energy glowed around his hand.

“Zill didn’t take kindly to that. Neither of us ever really found out how exactly his ‘powers’ seemed to work, but he had a lot less control back then.”

 A young Kayla rushed over to Rusty. “Oh gosh! Are you okay?”

 But Rusty just elbowed her away, causing her to fall with an “oof!”

  “Get off me you dumb girl!”

 Zill growled in anger again.

 “Zill has always had issues with people who bully or attack.”

 Kayla stood up, furious. She separated the two boys. “Stop! No more! I’m fine,” she told Zill. “Both of you! No fighting! This is a playground!”

 Rusty scoffed at her. “Get out of my way or I’ll beat you up too! I’m not afraid to hit a dumb girl…”

 Kayla then smacked him hard in the face with a “pow!” before he landed flat on his back. Kayla let out a “hmpth” and strolled away. Zill instantly admired her courage and feistiness.

 “Zill met his girlfriend Kayla on the first day of grade school,” said Jack.

 Cameron gasped. “Oh my! They have been dating for that long? Oh how sweet.”

 Jack shook his head. “Oh, no, heh. Zill didn’t get with Kay for a while. Through most of school he was…well, um ‘loose’ with girls. Flirting with them, showing off his strength and dazzling them with his charm. Many teen boys are like that. He always had genuine feelings for Kayla, but he never had the guts to go for her. He just didn’t think she’d be interested.  Which I guess was understandable. He didn’t have the best rep with the ladies, growing up. He was a party animal…heh, sorry.”

 “But! He used to love to sing! And had a knack for it! So I suggested he try out for the school musical once we entered Z.P.A.! He scored the lead alongside Kayla in the show! (I remember them getting a standing ovation at the end. Zill wore a purple suit and hat while Kayla wore a cross necklace and a blue and white dress.) And that was when they really got to know each other! Once they really got together, Zill really slowed down on his party lifestyle. It was interesting how much of a change there was. But! I was really happy that he had found such a stable relationship. Plus Kayla was a wonderful girl honestly!”

 Jack faltered. “But once he started dating…like I said, our relationship kinda, I dunno, changed…”

 ‘”Our relationship changed?’ How so?” Cameron asked. “Was he just less close as a friend?”

 Jack stuttered slightly. “Um, well! I mean, maybe I said that the wrong way. It was just…so hard to explain! He just suddenly had so many friends and attention once he changed with Kayla. I guess I just missed a little of the constant we had before he had such a serious relationship. I’m just a little worried that the way things might progress…”

 Tears came to Jack’s eyes, his face glum. “That maybe he…eventually won’t need me as a friend…I’m sorry, it’s a dumb worry…”

 “No Jack,” said Cameron. “When a friend starts to change, or befriends other people, it’s normal to feel worried about where you stand. But I’m sure if the two of you are as close as you say, you will never grow apart!”

 “Yeah?”

 “Ya know, we talked a lot about Zill. Why don’t you tell me more about yourself! Do you have many other friends?”

 Jack pondered in thought. “I think that’s why I have this insecurity. Like I said before, I only have a few friends because people are scared to be around me, understandably.” He remembered getting his head sawn off, a beehive landing on his head and getting attacked by a green sewer monster.

 “I have one other really close friend but I rarely see her.”

 “What about your family?” asked Cameron.

 “My family?”

 Jack thought of Damion the troublemaker teen jackal, Lucifer and his jackal wife Narissa, Tentradora the succubus pink cyborg nanny and a blue demon guard named Major Styx. (Grumpy Major Styx wanted Damion to be his submissive love servant and Tentradora was very “touchy-feely” and overprotective. Narissa kept to herself and Lucifer was very prideful as a goat-like demon.)  

 Jack explained, “It’s complicated. I think deep down I love my family, but they do just remind me directly of my curse. My mom Mindy used to take me to visit my uncle and aunt a lot.”

 “Your uncle? The devil?”

  Jack sighed. “Yeah…”

 “I felt very alone when I went there. To Hell. That side of my family has nothing in common with me. Plus when Damian came along he just became a constant pain. Sorry if that’s mean to say. My family makes me look out for him a lot, so I tend to get frustrated with him often. Anyways, even though it was pretty stupid, I decided one day to sneak out of the palace just to clear my head. Hell outside of the protection of the palace gets pretty dangerous. But I kinda stopped worrying about my own physical well-being. So my carelessness caught up with me, and a demon attacked me!”

 “A one-eyed, stripped giant monstrosity! It had two slender legs and a tail…and a large maw under its red glowing eye. Yeah, I guess it was pretty freaky. Dangerous situations tend to shock me more than actually scare me. But then Jill showed up.”

 Jack remembered a purple cat demon leaping into the air and stabbing the monster with a triangular bladed scythe. After several deep stabs and Jill slicing off its hand, the monster tumbled down to the ground. Jack watched with fear and awe against a rock wall.

 “Jill?” asked Cameron. ‘Jack and Jill…’

 “Yeah!” said Jack. “I figured I was on the subject of my only close friends. Jill is definitely one of the most important people in my life…heh. She saved me. Besides Zill, she was the only one who ever protected me. Jill and I started spending time with each other after that. She was a stray demon who spent a lot of time fending for herself against other demons.”

 Jack added, “Sorry if it seems I’m jumping around too much. I get carried away.”

 “It’s fine, Jack,” said Cameron.

 Jack continued. “Anyway, I loved spending time with Jill. She was rough with everyone but with me, she was so soft. Her hugs were the best! I snuck out to hang with her during every Hell visit, and as we got older…”

 Jack let out a forlorn sigh. “I guess nothing really stays the same.”

 “I encouraged her to test herself to be a member of the royal guard. She passed the test with flying colors and was accepted to live in the palace! Lucifer gave her a black collar with a red diamond gem on it to mark her new status. I was so proud of her! She ended up head of the royal guard. I was so happy because we would be able to see each other more often. But then she met this guy she worked with. And kinda…ended up spending more time with him than with me. Which hurt a bit. I had always hoped we would stay close…maybe even get closer.”

 “So you had a crush on her?” Cameron asked.

 “Well, I crush easily,” Jack answered. “I’m happy she found someone though. She deserves that. So does Zill. I just get lonely...”

  After a few sad moments he muttered, “I’m sorry this took a turn. I don’t want it to seem like I’m complaining about the fact they are happy. I hope that’s not what it sounds like.”

 Cameron stared with empathy at Jack. “Jack, it’s fine. I can tell you are a very emotional person, and it’s normal to get lonely in your situation. But I really think you’ll be able to find someone for you in time. And talking about these feelings are the point of counseling. So no need to apologize. You seem to talk very highly of others. What about yourself?”

 “This event was…not a highly moment...I…there was one time Damion locked me in a locker for a whole week. All because he didn’t want me to tell Zill that he had missed Kayla’s anniversary. S-since I couldn’t die, I was just trapped inside my head…starving, deteriorating, not knowing what time it was. It felt like I was dying again and again in a nightmare. By the time someone found me and unchained me, it had been one week later. Took me a full day of fluids to recover, even though my body regenerated itself. It may sound strange to you but…I wanted desperately to die in those moments.”

 A chilling silence permeated the space.

 “Sometimes…I wish I hadn’t been born. I wish that dad hadn’t died. Then my mom wouldn’t have been so obsessed with keeping me alive. It feels like Hell much of the time. Sometimes I blame her, wishing she could experience the curse through my eyes. Other times I blame myself; what did I ever do to deserve…”

 A few books randomly toppled from a shelf and hit Jack in the head. “…this?” He groaned and rubbed his head.

 Cameron looked at Jack with a somber expression. “I’m…sorry you had to go through that. And regarding your curse…no one should have to go through anything like that. I guess death isn’t the worst thing in the world…”

 As Jack sobbed and sniffled for several minutes, Cameron walked over and gave him a comforting embrace. Jack breathed deeply, face blushing. Even after Cameron let go, he still felt her warmth and kindness. He wiped more tears away.

 “S-sorry…”

 “It’s okay Jack.”

  “Besides the curse and all the negatives. Tell me about Jackson,” said Cameron.  

 “Me?”

  “Yes! Your interests? Goals? Hobbies? Things that make you happy. Anything!”

 Jack thought hard about it. “Um…well let’s see. I play the drums! I play the drums while Spam does guitar and lyrics. Kayla and Zill sing and play piano and Vanexa helps too. I also, um, work part time at the Safe Haven observatory. I really love space. Just everything about the universe and its infinite vastness fascinates me! It’s inspiring. I love studying astronomy and science.”

  “Oh!” Cameron exclaimed with joy.

 “I also love to cook! That’s my favorite hobby! I don’t have many people to cook for, so I usually take food to the foster home, the same one that took Zill in for a while. I’m still deciding which path I’d like to take for a career, being like a real chef or going into astronomy.”

 Jack continued. “Next year is my final year at the academy so I need to decide soon what my final major will be. I’m still able to take plenty of classes for both, though!”

 Cameron was very pleased. “Well! Well working at the observatory and being able to exercise your culinary skills gives you a good way to sample your career options. I’m sure you will make the right choice and have a successful career, Jack!”

 Jack smiled warmly. “Thank you, Ms. Walden. Thank you for listening! You’re more attentive than the last counselor.”

  “Well that’s what I’m here for!”

  “So…are you still scared living here after the past few days?” Jack asked.

 Cameron glanced off to the side. “Well, uh, ya…I mean…I’m getting used to things. Talking to you wasn’t scary. You are very kind and not frightening at all, past the fur. Which alone is surprising but there are a few people here who don’t scare me as much. So thank you! For not being scary. Is there anything else you’d like to talk about in this session?”

 Jack stood up. “I think that’s enough for this time. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

 He opened the door and looked at her one last time with a smile. “Thanks again, Ms. Walden. Welcome to Safe Haven!”

 Cameron waved. “Take care, Jackson!”

 As Jack was walking down the hall…

 Slam!

 Rusy slammed him into a locker and he slid to the floor. Rusty barked in laughter, leering over Jack.

 “Watch where yer goin’ wimp! Heh heh! You gonna cry or what?”

 “No?” Jack whimpered.

 “Yeah you are! P*ssy! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

 Rusty laughed as he strutted away. Jack made his way to the observatory as the setting sun turned the sky a salmon pink. He spotted a blonde man wearing glasses and a blue suit with a tight white collar.

 “Hey Dan!”

 The man smiled. “Jack! You’re early! It’s barely dark out!”

  “Yeah. I feel like coming in before my shift to relax a bit. Can I go up?”

  “Of course! Nobody is up there right now.”

  “Thanks Dan!”

 Jack slipped on a blue uniform and climbed up the stars. He made it to the top and his eyes grew wide in wonder. Yellow ethereal koi fish swam and glided across the starry night sky. The spotted bioluminescent midnight blue whale traveled beside the fish as well. The city lights and the greenhouse globe buildings illuminated the night in their spectacular vivid glows. One building was pink, the other a faded golden yellow. Jack became transfixed by the spirits. For the first time in a while, he felt hopeful and positive.

 Jack smiled and sighed contently as he gazed dreamily up at the Fish of Peace. “It’s never lonely at night.”

 Despite the bad luck, Jack knew he wasn’t alone. He had Zill, Spam, Vanexa, Jill, Kayla…all those who cared for him. His bandmates were the ones who helped save him from a monster, and it led to him being more tolerant of his curse. Zill had tried to “save” him multiple times by deflecting the bad luck events but Jack didn’t want him to get hurt. Instead of exhausting themselves to try and stop the curse, Jack’s friends helped pull himself together (literally and figuratively) and were simply there to support him after the bad moments. Although some of them were often preoccupied with lovers, they would always come back for Jack. For he was the silent supporting stone of their bonds.

 And now he had Cameron…a loving mentor…and perhaps a new mother-like figure in his life. Although he had a crush on her, it was not solely romantic. It was mixed with feelings of appreciation and friendship.

 Jack felt at home with himself for the first time in years. Because he realized an enlightening truth: not even a curse could keep his friends away.

 0 0 0

 Zechariah was busy jotting down notes at his desk when Cameron entered the room.

 “Z-Zechariah?” Cameron asked.

 “Miss Cameron!” Zechariah greeted. “Did your first session go well?”

 Cameron smiled, pleased to have helped out Jack. Helping others made her feel truly at home for the first time. “Actually, it really did!”

[captainkurosolaire]

Reverie of Winning

“She has a name, you bastard!”

At no chance would that sufficiently hit Shiro who was calculated always and right now as he began returning to his evil ways, mental tormenting drew satisfaction. All forms had thresholds he felt compelling and screaming other demon’s floating inside him screaming the gap of their power was tremendously in his favor. The indifference's were believed absurdly countless to count. An aetherial icy hand began molding and attempting to seal in his block. More ice surrounded Shiro’s entire frame that often was always around him in a transparent bubble. He had a certain radius that kept him clean and secure from filth and pollution. A protective aura of sorts or defined as his safe-zone. The ice that spawned forth was rapid and not in any sense logically gathered as his corruption defied his normal limits. The Captain predicted a counter only under the many battles they contested his better instincts and judgments kicked in. He followed up in his motion high-kick while allowing them to remain linked to trace behind his spine and unstrap his revolver charged with high dense explosive hollow rounds. Taking a point of aim. Shiro laughed between the true portion of this fight began shaping full-on something associated with likeness of a Voidal presence alarming around the stage of this contest. Horns and demonic runes began burning his flesh and replacing his birthed markings. “Did I hit a nerve?” Before Kuro could hit the trigger Shiro ran his finger into the barrel jamming and stuffing it with a diamond icicle shard perfectly sculpted. Causing a clogged discharge and a catastrophic boom. At the same time releasing Kuro’s leg letting the forced impact entirely boom him ever comically over to the other side of the Ruins from a discharged recoil. He ate it up. Shiro manically became more unstable like a misperformance tune on a violin string. So this is what he sacrificed and sold his every remaining piece of humane for..?                   Good riddance. This power activated only in unmatched hatred and only festered parasitical growth. Captain’s entire frame clashed into a heap of old rubble as many additional falling slid onto his downed canvas in a burial pile. Shiro began a hymn step in casualty coolness while seeking to lecture and berate his cringe of a foe. “I uncovered recently in my travels all your memories of your loved one have stripped from you too, ironic, opposing my rightful claim in trying to get mine returned. However, I’d ask what you were doing coming here for this Treasured Relic was your intentions really any far from my own? Do you really believe yourself better than me, somehow, at all? That you could forgive yourself for letting that part of you freed.  Yes… You threw all the other Stars to fall, those other so-called gems you go on about, everything and cast them aside for her sake, even abandoning the seas pledges in the pursuit of straying to whatever pact once that made you somewhat mildly amusing as a character. Though what makes your bond more important than mine? My sake is just as valued as yours! Losses of glory are always painful no matter so tell me your differences, fiend!” Long absence and pause happened on Captain’s side as he had to work much harder to catch his breathing from a hit like that. Suddenly softer pieces of rubble over-top began rolling down the pile. His hand breaking forth before shoveling himself into the landslide. Scratches, bruises, and blood already began dripping from him in disarray his eyebrow on his skin peeled back. His rigid lungs forced him to cough out the dust and debris.

As he slowly began to reclaim his posture. “Who said anything about mine is more important in comparison? I legitimately and full-hardheartedly messed up. It’s not my first-voyage or time, probably won’t be the last. I’ve been on the verge of being n’ the whole happily ever after sunset many times and I screwed them all up. There’s no blame outside my own. Look at me. I get n’ these types of injuries and situations all the time. This isn’t anything unusual, I’m a handful in every sense, sometimes, there’s more pain in that than the actual intended pleasure. Even to other Voidsents on my crew formerly, or mythical creature’s beyond mind, I can be an exhausting nightmare to even them. Ye think that’s healthy or stable or somehow certified sane? Doesn’t matter even if you’re eternal or everlasting or blessed by some creator that’s bound to taint and soil any waters. She cast me out and extended mercy on me and freed me even as I turned to the epitome of fright, a prediction she foresaw, even when I wanted to fog from reality.”

 “T’ sow these rifts like this one I can’t make my departure soured without learning. No one deserves more happiness than what Ayla gave and should have gotten or any of the recognition I lacked in providing… I’ll always have a part of me that love’s her and owe every fortune I obtain here on and out as her claim too. But In order for that to transpire reassuringly all that I formerly had in the light and was known for my fame and all my signs of openly living must forever be the shadows ownership for now. Nightmares were meant to end when eyes are opened! So... WITH THAT BEING SAID. I’ll show you who I’m fighting for in this!” He took on a charge once again reinvigorated even knowing in every sense this was futile, outclassed and outmatched. Last time he came close to defeating Shiro first-time it took him preparing and actually expecting the battle. Using Grade 2 - Wyvern-Obsidian to carve through the Diamond Ice. He didn’t have that courtesy in this encounter. The pirate wasn’t selfishly throwing these in some self-made vault or intending to use any of the trophies acquired in usage. He wanted to secure and put them into a slumber further away from the worst in his sector corner. To let them be with either their people of origins or to reside with researchers in museums or artistic wonders if they didn’t forebode troublesome damnation. Regardless to Shiro’s belief the Captain had no plans or intentions to encounter his bettered-rival here in this map and next adventure and when he did stumble across and saw with his first sight. It broke a cord inside him with a sign of sympathy and regret. Shiro believes there was no such thing as a pirate of compassion. He was wrong alongside with that whole illusion of wishing-well when someone was in a compromised and fallen mood was a ruse. It was understandable coming from the upper echelon in society, people always swindled and played the same card to merely keep a connection or contact with status closely to them. There wasn’t an entire flaw in Shiro’s jaded thoughts though there was more depth he refused. Realms were led by statistics. It’s why categorization and separation hierarchies had to exist. There was realism and there was idealism. Those that weren’t taught the exact same ways as others those so-called privileged weren’t known by the same eld textbooks or hand-me-down spew from fossilized oaks. Those that had nothing but a scrap of their own knowledge and perception crafted their own past droid teachings. Eventually, there was one part of a group line that coherently believed in all formed free. Fears of free often were doubled-sided, naturally, as one part of the definition of free could simply just mean pure anarchy and chaos an excuse for lawlessness. While another believed that any and all forms of corrupt and foul could exist no matter the origins it was all individual influenced and decided. And shouldn’t be determined until active clarity was known but over time this became a worthless fight. It was easier just to knuckle up for these arguments and drive home their value.    (Previous)  — /References/ —   ♫ ‘Black Holes’ — (Next Page)

[ariainstars]

Sorry, But I Don’t Support Minorities (Any More)

For a start: I will not use inclusive language in this text. (I usually don’t, only in this case I want to make sure it’s known from the start.)

Secondly, if you identify as trans or non-binary and / or are a huge Harry Potter fan, I am warning you: don’t read this.

If you do want to hear me out, be respectful in your comments or hold them back altogether. I won’t tolerate bullying merely because I am expressing my own opinion. Though the topic touches a sore spot in me, too, I will be as objective as I can.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am not and never was a fan of J.K. Rowling and her works. I found the Harry Potter hype strongly exaggerated, the books mildly unoriginal and biased, the films ok until they became so overloaded with derivation from other sources (dragons, elves, magic wands, brooms, unicorns, centaurs, phoenixes, basilisks, flying horses - stories like Star Trek or Star Wars at least have their own world-building) and later so dark that they were no fun anymore. In my opinion an average writer was lucky because she tapped into a trend and was at the right place and right time with her stories. I daresay years from now many fans will wonder why they liked these stories so much and realize that they just jumped on a train, having been too young and naïve to question it.

I don’t own any of Rowling’s books or DVDs or merchandise and I never have been part of the fandom. So, I come from a different corner when I say that I have my own attitude about the current shitstorm regarding J.K. Rowling now being coded as “transphobic”. This is due to personal reasons of my own.

  1. The Discussion Can Add Confusion

Rowling stated that in her youth she had problems with her own identity due to her father having wanted her to be a boy. I can understand that because I went through a long period in my late teens and early twens where I had difficulties identifying with the sex I was born with. At times I also felt physically attracted to females. In my case, it turned out to merely be a phase: I am an average cis woman. I can understand that for some people, such doubts may turn out to be more than a phase. But I know what Rowling refers to because I have been there. And I am grateful that there was no gender discussion when I was young because it would have confused me even more than I actually was, and I already had more than enough other problems. I was and I am a “common” woman, but there was a time in my life when I did not like it very much. That time was bad enough, combined as it was with other aspects in my life I had to come to terms with, which at times almost drove me to despair to the point where I contemplated suicide. So, I am glad that in my time being gay / straight / trans / cis / non-binary or other was not such an issue, at least not where I grew up. With my confusion and disorientation, well-meaning people might have taken the opportunity to encourage me to “embrace my lesbianism / trans identity”, when in truth I am neither. I was discouraged, from many sides, to liking myself, and that self-loathing took many forms. 

I am extremely cautious when it comes to gender identification because I know that finding one’s way in life under difficult circumstances can take years and years and end in a very different place from where it started, well beyond adolescence. In my case, for a long time I thought I was “not really female” because I love my independence and never wished for children: this is not due to some masculine trait inside of me but to my growing up with a disturbed mother who strongly invaded my life and mind and did everything that was in her power to trap me. I suspected that something was wrong with her since my early teens, but I found out the truth only about twenty years later. I had to accept her the way she is and put distance between us. 

Then there were my peers: where and when I grew up it was trendy to be (or appear) as tomboyish and easy-going as possible because this was seen as a sign of a “strong, modern, emancipated female”: fie on you if you wore your hair a little longer, liked clothes or only had to much as a flower-pattern on your notebook. Again: I simply had to get away. For many years I had been led to believe that my too “female” or “masculine” traits were a problem, when the actual problem was not mine. And if this happened to me, I daresay there may be many others in similar situations; which is something that who supports and encourages trans people usually does not consider. People who are confused about their sexuality without actually being trans need understanding as well.

  2. What About Us?

As a native Italian, I cringe when I only think e.g. of Lady and the Tramp’s silly “Bella notte” scene or films like Good Fellas or of The Godfather trilogy, cultural phenomena that did a lot to cement the general audience’s idea of how Italians are like. Not to our advantage. - No, “bella notte” is not correct Italian. No, we don’t play the mandolin, it’s an outmoded instrument that you are more likely to find in a museum. And no, spaghetti with meatballs are not Italian food!

Following the 2009 economic crises many countries in the European Community applied for financial “umbrellas”; Italy didn’t, it paid into those funds. Italy was the first Western country who went into lockdown as the Covid-19 crisis struck. The country functioned, though under huge restrictions and security measures. In both cases, other countries’ reactions in and outside Europe were like: “Typical - Italians are too lazy to work!” When it came to negotiating an economic pact to help Europe start again, the countries who had said this the loudest held their purse-strings tight - after having locked down too late and hidden the truth about the casualties in their own countries. Convenient.

Italians are generally often seen as silly and not trustworthy. And nobody talks about how demeaning and disrespectful, and on the long run damaging, it is to portray us in such a stereotyped way which at best is good for a laugh. The prejudices stick, and they have destroyed or turned into a living hell many existences.

There are huge now discussions about banning films like e.g. Gone With the Wind due to its “clichéd portrayal of Blacks”. Nobody talks about abolishing The Godfather or other films of that kind although they contribute to the stigma that Italians are either all in league with the mafia, or easy-going, silly folks who sing and drink wine all day and have no idea of what hard work means. Most Italians have too much personal pride to victimize themselves and bo-hoo “the rest of the world just won’t understand us”. They love their country but that does not make them not blind to its shortcomings. I hope they stay that way. In any case, I intend to.

  3. The Actual Problem: Bullying

I can sympathize with anyone who comes out as trans because I know what it’s like to be bullied. I was bullied myself for many years due to my Italian origin as well as my upbringing while I had to live among persons who were on a lower social level than I. I was e.g. accused of being stuck-up and “inhibited”. I know now that the female bullies were envious of my self-esteem and insinuating that I was missing “fun”; while the males were counting on another girl being at any guy’s disposal for free and were angry when I didn’t let them have their way with me. 

The actual problem with any kind of intolerance and discrimination is bullying. Whatever form it takes, bullying is or ought to be unacceptable. Bullies will be bullies, they do not care who they harass and why: if they e.g. can be convinced to leave trans people alone, they will vent their frustrations and build up their self-image by bullying people who are fat or black or whatever. Except trans people won’t be there to witness that (unless by coincidence they are both trans and fat / black etc.) 

We live in a world that gives a great deal of importance on competitiveness; as a result, even in families, schools and other institutions that ought to educate children and youngsters to be respectful towards themselves and others, bullying is often not seen as such, or simply downplayed as “assertiveness”. Bullies do not want to hear reasonable argumentation and learn to be sympathetic: they want to show off their power, provoke an emotional reaction from their victims to see how far they can go, and gloat when they can hurt them. They will not change their minds and they will never be trustworthy, no matter how many discussions about your particular situation you have with them. 

To bullies, the world is a jungle where only the strongest have the right to survive; any attempt to make them rethink their attitude will only make them laugh at their victims’ alleged stupidity (because that’s what a humane, respectful attitude is to them) even more. The only language they understand is violence. If you are bullied, protect and, if you can, defend yourself; never try to discuss. Minorities were silent and subdued for such a long time with good reason: because they knew that the more they held their heads up and did not hide what made them different, the more targets they offered for bullies. No one ought to go in hiding because he is queer or black or Jewish etc., but sometimes it’s unavoidable simply for self-protection. I am almost fifty years old and I have never witnessed a nasty person changing for the better. If anything, they became worse, because every time they got away, they felt more superior than before.

Particularly sly bullies will make their victims believe that they have changed, maybe even pulling off the role “I’m a victim myself”. Please, please, whether you belong to a group of minorities or not: don’t listen to them. Ever. Maybe they once were victims, but it turned them into arseholes, and now they are sunk too far in their own filth to care. Compassion is a good thing, but it should never go as far as to delude yourself, endure abuse and sympathize until you become an object for compassion yourself.

For instance, I like wearing dresses, cooking and sewing and looking after my household. Fifty years ago, that would have made me a pattern housewife; nowadays, feminists would either want to strangle me or at least have a good laugh at my expense. This just goes to show how short-sighted any kind of prejudice and bullying is. Any human being ought to follow its own nature with a healthy self-esteem, and esteem others as well. But with our today’s view of the world we are supposed to be not altruistic and respectful but “strong” so that “we will make our way in life” (i.e. feed capitalism in any way we can); and nothing can make you feel “strong” more easily than finding someone who is allegedly weaker and pick on him. We are expected to be “winners”, and the first thing winners need are “losers” to serve them as a foil. The pool from which to choose is large.

  4. Who Is Subject to Intolerance Can’t Be Intolerant… Really?

For many years of my life, I always found myself a supporter of someone who was ostracized for one reason or another.

A woman who had left her husband. (It was the early Eighties.) A gay man. A girl who had been harassed by being called ugly. A woman who had been abused sexually by a family member. A woman from East Germany (I live in the West and there are lots of prejudices.)

For the record: these persons were of different age, origin, upbringing, social status, intellectual level and character, and they did not know one another.

I knew and supported them for years, listening, loyal, supportive, interested in their problems and personal development. I never attacked or criticized them. And each and every one of them sooner or later accused me of “not understanding them” and “being prejudiced towards them”. In the case of the abused woman this was particularly unfair because I have been abused myself in my family, though psychically and not sexually. The divorced woman, my own mother, viciously accused me of lying and being in league with her ex-husband after I had been loyal only to her for entire decades.

It appears these people only were my “friends” as long as I told them what they wanted to hear. When I suffered, I was put off with “pull yourself together”. Like I had no problems, because the only people in the world having problems were them. Thank you very much. So, I was supposed to accept their growing insolence due to their being such poor victims, while from their point of view I deserved neither understanding nor respect.

Only recently, in the aftermath of the riots caused by the killing of George Floyd, I posted a comment on a video on youtube… guess what. I was immediately attacked by a black woman saying that my “stupid remark” just went to prove how a white person would never understand “things like these”. She had not even read my post carefully enough to understand what I actually wanted to say, she simply felt entitled to offend me.

I do not say that I dislike trans people or that they are bad, I’m sure there are as many good or bad people among them as anywhere. If someone says e.g. that though born with male organs they identify as female that is their very own affair. I must not like it or understand it. Tolerance means leaving other people alone to do as they please. Any person is “bad” only the moment they behave badly towards others; being different from the mainstream does not count.

But when I have to watch and read people nowadays defending trans or gays or blacks or some other minority, believing to be being open-minded or particularly noble and heroic by supporting them, all I can say is that I have been there and it did me no good. I won’t get caught up in another wave of “minority tolerance”: in my experience, it’s a waste of time. Many of those who now proudly burn their Harry Potter books and proclaim that they will no longer support the author, respectively that they “love Harry Potter but love trans people more” will make the experiences I made. Except they most probably won’t talk about that, because these experiences are so humiliating.

Minorities of any kind do not want to be supported, understood and defended by people who are not in their shoes: it hurts their personal pride. Which I can understand, although it’s a lame excuse for being mean to the very persons whom they expect help and support from. They will tend to envy the ones who do not have their problems due to being white / straight / cis etc., and consequently turn a blind eye to the fact that these can have huge problems of their own. Many of them expect their supporters not only to understand them but to support them enthusiastically at every turn, and if these don’t, (or if there is the slightest reason for them to assume that they don’t) these “victims” will feel entitled to be offended and become vicious aggressors, with a whole fan club behind them protecting their backs and convinced of promoting a honorable cause.

I am fed up with being tolerant. It seems you can hardly do anything anymore without offending someone: watching Disney movies or old classics, wearing a pink dress, calling a woman a woman instead of woman / trans / cis / non-binary etc. There is always someone who will point to these things saying why they’re not right.

I’m sorry but clichés, prejudices and stereotypes can’t be totally avoided: the human brain is not wired to know all facts about everything and everyone. What you can do is teach children and adolescents to be respectful towards everybody, even if they don’t like a particular person or group. Nobody has the right to force you to like everybody and to agree with every life style. But it seems the world has become full of people who seem to have nothing better to do but feel personally offended at the drop of a hat and make a fuss about how hurt their feelings are. Helping someone out who is in a difficult situation is not the same as catering to the keyed-up hysterics of some entitled brat. Seeing the difference between these two can be quite difficult because the latter often show their true face only after years and years, when they realize that for some reason or other, they can no longer squeeze you out for their personal benefit giving nothing back.

Who follows my account is aware that I did not like The Rise of Skywalker. Heaven knows I wrote enough about it. But I did not and will not harass the studios twittering, mailing, making youtube videos etc. ranting and raving about what rubbish it supposedly is for years, like the haters of The Last Jedi. Listening to them, one would think their whole reason for living had been destroyed on purpose. We most probably largely have to thank them for the Episode IX disaster, the flattest and most uninteresting Star Wars film ever made; not to mention the harassment the actress Kelly Marie Tran was subject to. Anyone has the right to dislike the development the authors chose for the saga, but for heaven’s sake: after all, it’s just a movie. If such a relatively insignificant thing can be hyped up like this, I don’t want to know what’s in store coming from people who feel offended for much more personal reasons, like race or gender.

Tolerance cannot be one-sided; it cannot mean that whatever one side wants does not have to be reasonable or useful, but they are entitled to scream and yell until the other side gives in. (If for no other reason than to satisfy them so they will finally shut it.)

  Conclusions (I did warn you…)

I. Hogwarts is not my world

Hogwarts is supposed to sound like a dream come true, but I never liked the idea of a “school” where pupils, who are still children and adolescents, are taught spells and engaged in games and tournaments where they have to risk life and limb. These facts are commonly overlooked, I guess, because “the heroes” usually don’t get hurt. The heroes overcome their traumata but do not get wiser from them, on the contrary: their suffering is supposed to make them seem nobler so that we will root for them more. Harry loses his parents before he could get to know them; his adoptive family mistreats him, but he doesn’t care about them; Cedric dies in his stead, but they were not close friends; Dumbledore dies when Harry was getting too old for a father figure; Snape dies, but Harry never liked him either. The list could go on. Harry always remains an innocent; he never gets to look into a metaphorical mirror where he has to see all of the bad that is inside of him, his darker sides are always projected and personified by someone else. (When he does look into a metaphorical mirror in the first book and movie, he finds out that the Philosopher’s stone is, magically, in his pocket. How convenient.)

I can’t invest emotionally in a fictional character who stands out before having earned or deserved it. Harry is like a Chosen One who skips the hero’s journey: from an abusive household, he is catapulted into a whole new world made of mystery and wonder, where he immediately is singled out, admired before he lifts a finger, unexplainably lucky, awed due to his heritage, envied by who is not as special as he. Harry remains untainted by own sins because other people do the dirty work for him; which seems ok because they are, for one reason or another, uncool - Dumbledore = old, Ron = weak / foolish, Hermione / Snape = unpleasant, his parents = dead, and so on. Yes, Harry sometimes makes mischief, but people usually cut him slack because of his past as an abused child, his parent’s tragic death, and his undefinable power that makes him resist the Evil One. The Dursleys, Snape and Draco don’t tolerate him, which is why they are coded as villains or at least very disagreeable characters. How do you recognize a villain in these stories? Simple, he’s being mean to Harry. Everybody else gives him special treatment because you don’t want to upset the person whom you expect to defeat the ultimate villain. I always found his character bland and uninteresting. We e.g. learned why Snape was so lonely and bitter, but not why Harry was so “good” although he had grown up unloved, in an abusive household, until he was eleven. 

For decades now Harry Potter fandoms and clubs gather all over the world proudly proclaiming that they are something really special and not like “them Muggles”. No wonder these stories are so popular with who feels misunderstood and downtrodden. Wouldn’t it be nice to be born with capacities ordinary people can’t even dream of? When maybe you’re just a common person, shocking thought. Nowadays, if you want to be someone outstanding, make it up in your mind and it automatically becomes true. And if you identify with the protagonist, you get to be a hero before you did anything special into the bargain. Harry is a victim of other person’s sins and / or blunders and his story is about unfolding the details of his victimhood and correcting them so he gets his happy ending. We are supposed to sympathize with this: well, I can’t. Victimhood and alleged inborn virtue are insufficient to make a protagonist “overcome his trials” and emerge triumphantly over his sidekicks or enemies, without any real loss on his side, while they get killed or, at best, ridiculed. And I will not pick up the part of that sidekick any more.

 II. Feminism Is Not My World

While I am an advocate for women’s independence, I do not identify as a feminist. I have an independent nature: that does not mean I am or should be ashamed of being a lady. This where we live is the era of the tomboys, of the feisty, cool, tough females. And often they don’t just go their own way but feel entitled to scorn women who do have their own job and live with a man who respects them, but also like the color pink, pretty clothes, flowers, romantic stories and everything else the new wave feminism likes to dismiss as “brainwashing”. Today you can hardly let your daughter watch a Disney movie without being accused of undermining her identity with false ideas about womanhood because, oh wonder, it seems a “real woman” must think and act like a badass guy.

Louder for the feminists in the back: you can actually look and behave in a way that is coded as “female” and be intelligent, independent and self-respecting. Women who went their own way have existed in every age and culture, often making great achievements and changing the world around them; they were intelligent, compassionate and took matters into their own hands. They did not proclaim that they unfairly were victims of men: they knew how to make men respect them. Being a woman is not a stereotype thrust upon you, it’s natural. If someone rejects qualities that are identified as “female”, it’s their very own affair. If I wanted to return the offense, I might as easily say that “feminists” and “empowered females” are just too smug to do the dishes.

 III. Trans, cis, binary etc. is not my world

For millennia, people had to accept the sex they were born with. Now you can have surgery and take hormones to get rid of a problem which you can’t solve on your own. Sorry, but I can’t get my head around it: to me the gender diversity discussion is unnatural. Good and right things are always the same, they cannot change with time and “scientifical / medical progress”. Tomboyish females and same-sex lovers are as old as the world, but it’s only a few decades since you can surgically have your sex changed if you feel uncomfortable with it, and even less time since you can claim the right to be both male and female or not to choose any sex at all. Excuse me, what’s behind it? Fear of missing out? I know, nowadays we are supposed to “change the stars”, but excuse me, it’s not possible. Rowling did not change the stars: as I wrote above, she got lucky.

I can say from own experience that for healthy growth a person needs limits. It is not “tolerant”, in my opinion, to say that one can be male or female or binary or none of that, all by choice. If I raise a child calling it a boy because he was born with male organs, or by Catholic standards because I am a Catholic myself, I believe no one has the right to say that I am intruding into its personality. I would be intolerant if said child would later come out to me e.g. as trans or atheist and I would dismiss its identification and opinion as a matter of principle, or disown it altogether. Rejecting rules and values is like pretending that it is wrong to be e.g. female, or straight, or that Catholic values are rubbish. None of that is true. It is true that a trans or gay or atheist or Buddhist etc. is not automatically an immoral or inferior person.

I can accept other people’s choices about their gender identification; that doesn’t mean I must like or support their mindset. It doesn’t automatically make me “transphobic”. If it is intrusive or intolerant to say that someone is male because he was born with male organs, what will come next? Will “normal” females no longer be entitled to protect their most intimate privacy because any guy can share our private space, like a public toilet or dress room, claiming he’s a woman (and he might well not be trans, but a lying voyeur?) Will we no longer give our children male or female names? Not teach them any values? No longer send them to kindergarten, to school, maybe not even feed or clothe them or furnish their nurseries according to our own judgement, because the poor babies can’t choose by themselves yet?

We all did not choose to be born in the first place.

If you want to protect your children from suffering, don’t have them: suffering is a part of life. Trans is not my world. I don’t want to destroy it or to behave rudely towards it; I simply do not want to have part in it. I want people to care for me, and to do so because I am me, not because I come out with this or another sexual orientation or make myself an advocate for people who belong to this or another minority.

All of the above is why I will not jump on the current “I defend minorities” respectively “I defend downtrodden victims” train. The good part is that I don’t have any Harry Potter book or merchandise I could burn anyway. 😊

Anyone who is uncomfortable with my point of view can unfollow me. Bullies will be blocked and reported without further ado. Greetings from a notorious Muggle.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Stormlight Archive Epigraphs (1) - Letters

I’ve been going through the Stormlight Archive epigraphs to see if there are hints or foreshadowing or information that I’ve missed; before now, I hadn’t pulled together ones from different chapters, and it’s been very interesting to get a clearer picture of them.

These posts are as much for my own reference as anything else.

This one covers the letters between Wit and his, hm, associates, which are in TWOK Part 2, WOR Part 4, and OB Part 2.

Wit’s Letter

Old friend, I hope this missive finds you well. Though, as you are now essentially immortal, I would guess that wellness on your part is something of a given. I realize that you are probably still angry. That is pleasant to know. Much as your perpetual health, I have come to rely upon your dissatisfaction with me. It is one of the cosmere’s great constants, I should think.

Let me first assure you that the element is quite safe. I have found a good home for it. I protect its safety like I protect my own skin, you might say. You do not agree with my quest. I understand that, so much as it is possible to understand someone with whom I disagree so completely.

Might I be quite frank? Before, you asked why I was so concerned. It is for the following reason: Ati was once a kind and generous man, and you saw what became of him. Rayse, on the other hand, was among the most loathesome, crafty, and dangerous individuals I had ever met. He holds the most frightening and terrible of all of the Shards. Ponder on that for a time, you old reptile, and tell me if your insistence on nonintervention holds firm. Because I assure you, Rayse will not be similarly inhibited. One need only look at the aftermath of his brief visit to Sel to see proof of what I say. In case you have turned a blind eye to that disaster, know that Aona and Skai are both dead, and that which they held has been Splintered. Presumably to prevent anyone from rising up to challenge Rayse.

You have accused me of arrogance in my quest. You have accused me of perpetuating my grudge against Bavadin. Both accusations are true. Neither point makes the things I have written to you here untrue.

I am being chased. Your friends of the Seventeenth Shard, I suspect. I believe they’re still lost, following a false trail I left for them. They’ll be happier that way. I doubt they have any inkling what to do with me should they actually catch me. If anything I have said makes a glimmer of sense to you, I trust that you’ll call them off. Or maybe you could astound me and ask them to do something productive for once. For I have never been dedicated to a more important purpose, and the very pillars of the sky will shake with the results of our war here. I ask again. Support me. Do not stand aside and let disaster consume more lives. I’ve never begged you for something before, old friend.

I do so now.

Reply 1:

I’ll address this letter to my “old friend,” as I have no idea what name you’re using currently. Have you given up on the gemstone, now that it is dead? And do you no longer hide behind the name of your old master? I am told that in your current incarnation you’ve taken a name that references what you presume to be one of your virtues. This is, I suspect, a little like a skunk naming itself for its stench.

Now, look what you’ve made me say. You’ve always been able to bring out the extreme in me, old friend. And I do still name you a friend, for all that you weary me.

Yes, I’m disappointed. Perpetually, as you put it. Is not the destruction you have wrought enough? The worlds you now tread bear the touch and design of Adonalsium. Our interference so far has brought nothing but pain.

My path has been chosen very deliberately. Yes, I agree with everything you have said about Rayse, including the severe danger he presents. However, it seems to me that all things have been set up for a purpose, and if we - as infants - stumble through the workshop, we risk exacerbating, not preventing, a problem. Rayse is captive. He cannot leave the system he now inhabits. His destructive potential is, therefore, inhibited. Whether this was Tanavast’s design or not, millennia have passed without Rayse taking the life of another one of the sixteen. While I mourn for the great suffering Rayse has caused, I do not believe we could hope for a better outcome than this. He bears the weight of God’s own divine hatred, separated from the virtues that give it context. He is what we made him to be, old friend. And that is what he, unfortunately, wished to become. I suspect that he is more a force than an individual now, despite your insistence to the contrary. That force is contained, and an equilibrium reached.

You, however, have never been a force for equilibrium. You tow chaos behind you like a corpse dragged by one leg through the snow. Please, hearken to my plea. Leave that place and join me in my oath of nonintervention. The cosmere itself may depend upon our restraint.

Reply 2:

Dearest Cephandrius,

I recieved you communication, of course. I noticed its arrival immediately, just as I noticed your many intrusions into my land. You think yourself so clever, but my eyes are not those of some petty noble, to be clouded by a false nose and some dirt on the cheeks.

You mustn’t worry yourself about Rayse. It is a pity about Aona and Skai, but they were very foolish - violating our pact from the very beginning. Your skills are admirable, but you are merely a man. You had your chance to be more, and refused it. No good can come of two Shards settling in one location. It was agreed that we would not interfere with one another, and it disappoints me that so few of the Shards have kept to this original agreement. As for Uli Da, it was obvious from the outset that she was going to be a problem. Good riddance. Regardless, this is not your concern. If Rayse becomes an isdue, he will be dealt with.

And so will you.

Reply 3:

Cephandrius, bearer of the First Gem,

You must know better than to approach us by relying upon presumption of past relationship. You have spoken to one who cannot respond. We, instead, will take your communication to us - though we know not how you have located us upon this world. We are indeed intrigued, for we thought it well hidden. Insignificant among our many realms. As the waves of the sea must continue to surge, so must our will continue resolute.

Alone.

Did you expect anything else from us? We need not suffer the interference of another. Rayse is contained, and we care not for his prison. Indeed, we admire his initiative. Perhaps if you had approached the correct one of us with your plea, it would have found favourable audience. But we stand in the sea, pleased with our domains. Leave us alone.

We also instruct that you should not return to Obrodai. We have claimed that world, and a new avatar of our being is beginning to manifest there. She is young yet, and - as a precaution - she has been instilled with an intense and overpowering dislike of you. This is all we will say at this time. If you wish more, seek these waters in person and overcome the tests we have created. Only in this will you earn our respect.

Reply 4:

Friend,

Your letter is most intriguing, even revelatory. I would have thought, before attaining my current station, that a deity could not be surprised. Obviously, this is not true. I can be surprised. I can perhaps even be naive, I think.

I am the least equipped, of all, to aid you in this endeavour. I am finding that the powers I hold are in such conflict that the most simple of actions can be difficult. I am also made uncertain by your subterfuge. Why have you not made yourself known to me before this? How is it you can hide? Who are you, truly, and how do you know so much about Adonalsium? If you would speak to me farther, I request open honesty. Return to my lands, approach my servants, and I will see what I can do for your quest.

Basically everything that I know about Wit and the Cosmere beyond the events of The Stormlight Archive comes from the Stormlight Archive Rereads on Tor.com. Here’s my understanding of what is going on:

The God of Sanderson’s Cosmere, Adonalsium, was splintered into many different pieces (Shards - not to be confused with Shardblades and Shardplate), each consisting of a separate characteristic, and each characteristic was taken on by a different person.  Up until I put these epigraphs together, I thought there were 16 shards, but from this, it sounds like there was a 17th that Wit was supposed to take on, and chose not to, and that his sixteen associates are displeased with him for that (and are trying to get that Shard back?).

The tone of the different replies is very interesting.  The first one, I have some sympathy with, as one of many reasons why I tend to oppose military interventionism is that generally the intervenors have no idea what they are doing and risk making things worse; the author fo the first reply seems to have genuine affection for Wit despite his aggravation.

The second reply is very much the opposite, starting courteous but being the most clearly hostile of the four.  The third reply indicates that Wit’s letter went to a Shard-holder other than the one he intended, and to someone who is broadly antagonistic (given that they “admire Odium’s initiative”).  The fourth one, I’m gathering from bits of comments from other people on the broader Cosmere, is from the person currently holding the Shards of both Ruin and Preservation.

I’m not sure any of the material from the letters is essential, or if it’s just an addition for the enjoyment of Cosmere fans; the broad takeaway seems to be that Roshar is on its own and no one else is inclined to provide large-scale assistance against Odium.

I’m not sure whether I’m corrent in assuming that Tanavast is the original name of the person who took on the Shard of Honor, in the same way that Rayse is the original name of the person who took on the Shard of Odium?

[internetbynight]

𝙊𝙣 𝙏𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙇𝙞𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙖-𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙎𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚

In some remote corner of the universe, poured out and glittering in innumerable solar systems, there once was a star on which clever animals invented knowledge. That was the highest and most mendacious minute of "world history"—yet only a minute. After nature had drawn a few breaths the star grew cold, and the clever animals had to die.

One might invent such a fable and still not have illustrated sufficiently how wretched, how shadowy and flighty, how aimless and arbitrary, the human intellect appears in nature. There have been eternities when it did not exist; and when it is done for again, nothing will have happened. For this intellect has no further mission that would lead beyond human life. It is human, rather, and only its owner and producer gives it such importance, as if the world pivoted around it. But if we could communicate with the mosquito, then we would learn that he floats through the air with the same self-importance, feeling within itself the flying center of the world. There is nothing in nature so despicable or insignificant that it cannot immediately be blown up like a bag by a slight breath of this power of knowledge; and just as every porter wants an admirer, the proudest human being, the philosopher, thinks that he sees on the eyes of the universe telescopically focused from all sides on his actions and thoughts.

It is strange that this should be the effect of the intellect, for after all it was given only as an aid to the most unfortunate, most delicate, most evanescent beings in order to hold them for a minute in existence, from which otherwise, without this gift, they would have every reason to flee as quickly as Lessing's son. [In a famous letter to Johann Joachim Eschenburg (December 31, 1778), Lessing relates the death of his infant son, who "understood the world so well that he left it at the first opportunity."] That haughtiness which goes with knowledge and feeling, which shrouds the eyes and senses of man in a blinding fog, therefore deceives him about the value of existence by carrying in itself the most flattering evaluation of knowledge itself. Its most universal effect is deception; but even its most particular effects have something of the same character.

The intellect, as a means for the preservation of the individual, unfolds its chief powers in simulation; for this is the means by which the weaker, less robust individuals preserve themselves, since they are denied the chance of waging the struggle for existence with horns or the fangs of beasts of prey. In man this art of simulation reaches its peak: here deception, flattering, lying and cheating, talking behind the back, posing, living in borrowed splendor, being masked, the disguise of convention, acting a role before others and before oneself—in short, the constant fluttering around the single flame of vanity is so much the rule and the law that almost nothing is more incomprehensible than how an honest and pure urge for truth could make its appearance among men. They are deeply immersed in illusions and dream images; their eye glides only over the surface of things and sees "forms"; their feeling nowhere lead into truth, but contents itself with the reception of stimuli, playing, as it were, a game of blindman's buff on the backs of things. Moreover, man permits himself to be lied to at night, his life long, when he dreams, and his moral sense never even tries to prevent this—although men have been said to have overcome snoring by sheer will power.

What, indeed, does man know of himself! Can he even once perceive himself completely, laid out as if in an illuminated glass case? Does not nature keep much the most from him, even about his body, to spellbind and confine him in a proud, deceptive consciousness, far from the coils of the intestines, the quick current of the blood stream, and the involved tremors of the fibers? She threw away the key; and woe to the calamitous curiosity which might peer just once through a crack in the chamber of consciousness and look down, and sense that man rests upon the merciless, the greedy, the insatiable, the murderous, in the indifference of his ignorance—hanging in dreams, as it were, upon the back of a tiger. In view of this, whence in all the world comes the urge for truth?

Insofar as the individual wants to preserve himself against other individuals, in a natural state of affairs he employs the intellect mostly for simulation alone. But because man, out of need and boredom, wants to exist socially, herd-fashion, he requires a peace pact and he endeavors to banish at least the very crudest bellum omni contra omnes [war of all against all] from his world. This peace pact brings with it something that looks like the first step toward the attainment of this enigmatic urge for truth. For now that is fixed which henceforth shall be "truth"; that is, a regularly valid and obligatory designation of things is invented, and this linguistic legislation also furnishes the first laws of truth: for it is here that the contrast between truth and lie first originates. The liar uses the valid designations, the words, to make the unreal appear as real; he says, for example, "I am rich," when the word "poor" would be the correct designation of his situation. He abuses the fixed conventions by arbitrary changes or even by reversals of the names. When he does this in a self-serving way damaging to others, then society will no longer trust him but exclude him. Thereby men do not flee from being deceived as much as from being damaged by deception: what they hate at this stage is basically not the deception but the bad, hostile consequences of certain kinds of deceptions. In a similarly limited way man wants the truth: he desires the agreeable life-preserving consequences of truth, but he is indifferent to pure knowledge, which has no consequences; he is even hostile to possibly damaging and destructive truths. And, moreover, what about these conventions of language? Are they really the products of knowledge, of the sense of truth? Do the designations and the things coincide? Is language the adequate expression of all realities?

Only through forgetfulness can man ever achieve the illusion of possessing a "truth" in the sense just designated. If he does not wish to be satisfied with truth in the form of a tautology—that is, with empty shells—then he will forever buy illusions for truths. What is a word? The image of a nerve stimulus in sounds. But to infer from the nerve stimulus, a cause outside us, that is already the result of a false and unjustified application of the principle of reason. If truth alone had been the deciding factor in the genesis of language, and if the standpoint of certainty had been decisive for designations, then how could we still dare to say "the stone is hard," as if "hard" were something otherwise familiar to us, and not merely a totally subjective stimulation! We separate things according to gender, designating the tree as masculine and the plant as feminine. What arbitrary assignments! How far this oversteps the canons of certainty! We speak of a "snake": this designation touches only upon its ability to twist itself and could therefore also fit a worm. What arbitrary differentiations! What one-sided preferences, first for this, then for that property of a thing! The different languages, set side by side, show that what matters with words is never the truth, never an adequate expression; else there would not be so many languages. The "thing in itself" (for that is what pure truth, without consequences, would be) is quite incomprehensible to the creators of language and not at all worth aiming for. One designates only the relations of things to man, and to express them one calls on the boldest metaphors. A nerve stimulus, first transposed into an image—first metaphor. The image, in turn, imitated by a sound—second metaphor. And each time there is a complete overleaping of one sphere, right into the middle of an entirely new and different one. One can imagine a man who is totally deaf and has never had a sensation of sound and music. Perhaps such a person will gaze with astonishment at Chladni's sound figures; perhaps he will discover their causes in the vibrations of the string and will now swear that he must know what men mean by "sound." It is this way with all of us concerning language; we believe that we know something about the things themselves when we speak of trees, colors, snow, and flowers; and yet we possess nothing but metaphors for things—metaphors which correspond in no way to the original entities. In the same way that the sound appears as a sand figure, so the mysterious X of the thing in itself first appears as a nerve stimulus, then as an image, and finally as a sound. Thus the genesis of language does not proceed logically in any case, and all the material within and with which the man of truth, the scientist, and the philosopher later work and build, if not derived from never-never land, is a least not derived from the essence of things.

Let us still give special consideration to the formation of concepts. Every word immediately becomes a concept, inasmuch as it is not intended to serve as a reminder of the unique and wholly individualized original experience to which it owes its birth, but must at the same time fit innumerable, more or less similar cases—which means, strictly speaking, never equal—in other words, a lot of unequal cases. Every concept originates through our equating what is unequal. No leaf ever wholly equals another, and the concept "leaf" is formed through an arbitrary abstraction from these individual differences, through forgetting the distinctions; and now it gives rise to the idea that in nature there might be something besides the leaves which would be "leaf"—some kind of original form after which all leaves have been woven, marked, copied, colored, curled, and painted, but by unskilled hands, so that no copy turned out to be a correct, reliable, and faithful image of the original form. We call a person "honest." Why did he act so honestly today? we ask. Our answer usually sounds like this: because of his honesty. Honesty! That is to say again: the leaf is the cause of the leaves. After all, we know nothing of an essence-like quality named "honesty"; we know only numerous individualized, and thus unequal actions, which we equate by omitting the unequal and by then calling them honest actions. In the end, we distill from them a qualitas occulta [hidden quality] with the name of "honesty." We obtain the concept, as we do the form, by overlooking what is individual and actual; whereas nature is acquainted with no forms and no concepts, and likewise with no species, but only with an X which remains inaccessible and undefinable for us. For even our contrast between individual and species is something anthropomorphic and does not originate in the essence of things; although we should not presume to claim that this contrast does not correspond o the essence of things: that would of course be a dogmatic assertion and, as such, would be just as indemonstrable as its opposite.

What, then, is truth? A mobile army of metaphors, metonyms, and anthropomorphisms—in short, a sum of human relations which have been enhanced, transposed, and embellished poetically and rhetorically, and which after long use seem firm, canonical, and obligatory to a people: truths are illusions about which one has forgotten that this is what they are; metaphors which are worn out and without sensuous power; coins which have lost their pictures and now matter only as metal, no longer as coins.

We still do not know where the urge for truth comes from; for as yet we have heard only of the obligation imposed by society that it should exist: to be truthful means using the customary metaphors—in moral terms: the obligation to lie according to a fixed convention, to lie herd-like in a style obligatory for all. Now man of course forgets that this is the way things stand for him. Thus he lies in the manner indicated, unconsciously and in accordance with habits which are centuries' old; and precisely by means of this unconsciousness and forgetfulness he arrives at his sense of truth. From the sense that one is obliged to designate one thing as red, another as cold, and a third as mute, there arises a moral impulse in regard to truth. The venerability, reliability, and utility of truth is something which a person demonstrates for himself from the contrast with the liar, whom no one trusts and everyone excludes. As a rational being, he now places his behavior under the control of abstractions. He will no longer tolerate being carried away by sudden impressions, by intuitions. First he universalizes all these impressions into less colorful, cooler concepts, so that he can entrust the guidance of his life and conduct to them. Everything which distinguishes man from the animals depends upon this ability to volatilize perceptual metaphors in a schema, and thus to dissolve an image into a concept. For something is possible in the realm of these schemata which could never be achieved with the vivid first impressions: the construction of a pyramidal order according to castes and degrees, the creation of a new world of laws, privileges, subordinations, and clearly marked boundaries—a new world, one which now confronts that other vivid world of first impressions as more solid, more universal, better known, and more human than the immediately perceived world, and thus as the regulative and imperative world. Whereas each perceptual metaphor is individual and without equals and is therefore able to elude all classification, the great edifice of concepts displays the rigid regularity of a Roman columbarium and exhales in logic that strength and coolness which is characteristic of mathematics. Anyone who has felt this cool breath [of logic] will hardly believe that even the concept—which is as bony, foursquare, and transposable as a die—is nevertheless merely the residue of a metaphor, and that the illusion which is involved in the artistic transference of a nerve stimulus into images is, if not the mother, then the grandmother of every single concept. But in this conceptual crap game "truth" means using every die in the designated manner, counting its spots accurately, fashioning the right categories, and never violating the order of caste and class rank. Just as the Romans and Etruscans cut up the heavens with rigid mathematical lines and confined a god within each of the spaces thereby delimited, as within a templum, so every people has a similarly mathematically divided conceptual heaven above themselves and henceforth thinks that truth demands that each conceptual god be sought only within his own sphere. Here one may certainly admire man as a mighty genius of construction, who succeeds in piling an infinitely complicated dome of concepts upon an unstable foundation, and, as it were, on running water. Of course, in order to be supported by such a foundation, his construction must be like one constructed of spiders' webs: delicate enough to be carried along by the waves, strong enough not to be blown apart by every wind. As a genius of construction man raises himself far above the bee in the following way: whereas the bee builds with wax that he gathers from nature, man builds with the far more delicate conceptual material which he first has to manufacture from himself. In this he is greatly to be admired, but not on account of his drive for truth or for pure knowledge of things. When someone hides something behind a bush and looks for it again in the same place and finds it there as well, there is not much to praise in such seeking and finding. Yet this is how matters stand regarding seeking and finding "truth" within the realm of reason. If I make up the definition of a mammal, and then, after inspecting a camel, declare "look, a mammal" I have indeed brought a truth to light in this way, but it is a truth of limited value. That is to say, it is a thoroughly anthropomorphic truth which contains not a single point which would be "true in itself" or really and universally valid apart from man. At bottom, what the investigator of such truths is seeking is only the metamorphosis of the world into man. He strives to understand the world as something analogous to man, and at best he achieves by his struggles the feeling of assimilation. Similar to the way in which astrologers considered the stars to be in man 's service and connected with his happiness and sorrow, such an investigator considers the entire universe in connection with man: the entire universe as the infinitely fractured echo of one original sound-man; the entire universe as the infinitely multiplied copy of one original picture-man. His method is to treat man as the measure of all things, but in doing so he again proceeds from the error of believing that he has these things [which he intends to measure] immediately before him as mere objects. He forgets that the original perceptual metaphors are metaphors and takes them to be the things themselves.

Only by forgetting this primitive world of metaphor can one live with any repose, security, and consistency: only by means of the petrification and coagulation of a mass of images which originally streamed from the primal faculty of human imagination like a fiery liquid, only in the invincible faith that this sun, this window, this table is a truth in itself, in short, only by forgetting that he himself is an artistically creating subject, does man live with any repose, security, and consistency. If but for an instant he could escape from the prison walls of this faith, his "self consciousness" would be immediately destroyed. It is even a difficult thing for him to admit to himself that the insect or the bird perceives an entirely different world from the one that man does, and that the question of which of these perceptions of the world is the more correct one is quite meaningless, for this would have to have been decided previously in accordance with the criterion of the correct perception, which means, in accordance with a criterion which is not available. But in any case it seems to me that the correct perception—which would mean the adequate expression of an object in the subject—is a contradictory impossibility. For between two absolutely different spheres, as between subject and object, there is no causality, no correctness, and no expression; there is, at most, an aesthetic relation: I mean, a suggestive transference, a stammering translation into a completely foreign tongue—for which I there is required, in any case, a freely inventive intermediate sphere and mediating force. "Appearance" is a word that contains many temptations, which is why I avoid it as much as possible. For it is not true that the essence of things "appears" in the empirical world. A painter without hands who wished to express in song the picture before his mind would, by means of this substitution of spheres, still reveal more about the essence of things than does the empirical world. Even the relationship of a nerve stimulus to the generated image is not a necessary one. But when the same image has been generated millions of times and has been handed down for many generations and finally appears on the same occasion every time for all mankind, then it acquires at last the same meaning for men it would have if it were the sole necessary image and if the relationship of the original nerve stimulus to the generated image were a strictly causal one. In the same manner, an eternally repeated dream would certainly be felt and judged to be reality. But the hardening and congealing of a metaphor guarantees absolutely nothing concerning its necessity and exclusive justification.

Every person who is familiar with such considerations has no doubt felt a deep mistrust of all idealism of this sort: just as often as he has quite early convinced himself of the eternal consistency, omnipresence, and fallibility of the laws of nature. He has concluded that so far as we can penetrate here—from the telescopic heights to the microscopic depths—everything is secure, complete, infinite, regular, and without any gaps. Science will be able to dig successfully in this shaft forever, and the things that are discovered will harmonize with and not contradict each other. How little does this resemble a product of the imagination, for if it were such, there should be some place where the illusion and reality can be divined. Against this, the following must be said: if each us had a different kind of sense perception—if we could only perceive things now as a bird, now as a worm, now as a plant, or if one of us saw a stimulus as red, another as blue, while a third even heard the same stimulus as a sound—then no one would speak of such a regularity of nature, rather, nature would be grasped only as a creation which is subjective in the highest degree. After all, what is a law of nature as such for us? We are not acquainted with it in itself, but only with its effects, which means in its relation to other laws of nature—which, in turn, are known to us only as sums of relations. Therefore all these relations always refer again to others and are thoroughly incomprehensible to us in their essence. All that we actually know about these laws of nature is what we ourselves bring to them—time and space, and therefore relationships of succession and number. But everything marvelous about the laws of nature, everything that quite astonishes us therein and seems to demand explanation, everything that might lead us to distrust idealism: all this is completely and solely contained within the mathematical strictness and inviolability of our representations of time and space. But we produce these representations in and from ourselves with the same necessity with which the spider spins. If we are forced to comprehend all things only under these forms, then it ceases to be amazing that in all things we actually comprehend nothing but these forms. For they must all bear within themselves the laws of number, and it is precisely number which is most astonishing in things. All that conformity to law, which impresses us so much in the movement of the stars and in chemical processes, coincides at bottom with those properties which we bring to things. Thus it is we who impress ourselves in this way. In conjunction with this, it of course follows that the artistic process of metaphor formation with which every sensation begins in us already presupposes these forms and thus occurs within them. The only way in which the possibility of subsequently constructing a new conceptual edifice from metaphors themselves can be explained is by the firm persistence of these original forms That is to say, this conceptual edifice is an imitation of temporal, spatial, and numerical relationships in the domain of metaphor.

We have seen how it is originally language which works on the construction of concepts, a labor taken over in later ages by science. Just as the bee simultaneously constructs cells and fills them with honey, so science works unceasingly on this great columbarium of concepts, the graveyard of perceptions. It is always building new, higher stories and shoring up, cleaning, and renovating the old cells; above all, it takes pains to fill up this monstrously towering framework and to arrange therein the entire empirical world, which is to say, the anthropomorphic world. Whereas the man of action binds his life to reason and its concepts so that he will not be swept away and lost, the scientific investigator builds his hut right next to the tower of science so that he will be able to work on it and to find shelter for himself beneath those bulwarks which presently exist. And he requires shelter, for there are frightful powers which continuously break in upon him, powers which oppose scientific truth with completely different kinds of "truths" which bear on their shields the most varied sorts of emblems.

The drive toward the formation of metaphors is the fundamental human drive, which one cannot for a single instant dispense with in thought, for one would thereby dispense with man himself. This drive is not truly vanquished and scarcely subdued by the fact that a regular and rigid new world is constructed as its prison from its own ephemeral products, the concepts. It seeks a new realm and another channel for its activity, and it finds this in myth and in art generally. This drive continually confuses the conceptual categories and cells by bringing forward new transferences, metaphors, and metonymies. It continually manifests an ardent desire to refashion the world which presents itself to waking man, so that it will be as colorful, irregular, lacking in results and coherence, charming, and eternally new as the world of dreams. Indeed, it is only by means of the rigid and regular web of concepts that the waking man clearly sees that he is awake; and it is precisely because of this that he sometimes thinks that he must be dreaming when this web of concepts is torn by art. Pascal is right in maintaining that if the same dream came to us every night we would be just as occupied with it as we are with the things that we see every day. "If a workman were sure to dream for twelve straight hours every night that he was king," said Pascal, "I believe that he would be just as happy as a king who dreamt for twelve hours every night that he was a workman." In fact, because of the way that myth takes it for granted that miracles are always happening, the waking life of a mythically inspired people—the ancient Greeks, for instance—more closely resembles a dream than it does the waking world of a scientifically disenchanted thinker. When every tree can suddenly speak as a nymph, when a god in the shape of a bull can drag away maidens, when even the goddess Athena herself is suddenly seen in the company of Peisastratus driving through the market place of Athens with a beautiful team of horses—and this is what the honest Athenian believed—then, as in a dream, anything is possible at each moment, and all of nature swarms around man as if it were nothing but a masquerade of the gods, who were merely amusing themselves by deceiving men in all these shapes.

But man has an invincible inclination to allow himself to be deceived and is, as it were, enchanted with happiness when the rhapsodist tells him epic fables as if they were true, or when the actor in the theater acts more royally than any real king. So long as it is able to deceive without injuring, that master of deception, the intellect, is free; it is released from its former slavery and celebrates its Saturnalia. It is never more luxuriant, richer, prouder, more clever and more daring. With creative pleasure it throws metaphors into confusion and displaces the boundary stones of abstractions, so that, for example, it designates the stream as "the moving path which carries man where he would otherwise walk." The intellect has now thrown the token of bondage from itself. At other times it endeavors, with gloomy officiousness, to show the way and to demonstrate the tools to a poor individual who covets existence; it is like a servant who goes in search of booty and prey for his master. But now it has become the master and it dares to wipe from its face the expression of indigence. In comparison with its previous conduct, everything that it now does bears the mark of dissimulation, just as that previous conduct did of distortion. The free intellect copies human life, but it considers this life to be something good and seems to be quite satisfied with it. That immense framework and planking of concepts to which the needy man clings his whole life long in order to preserve himself is nothing but a scaffolding and toy for the most audacious feats of the liberated intellect. And when it smashes this framework to pieces, throws it into confusion, and puts it back together in an ironic fashion, pairing the most alien things and separating the closest, it is demonstrating that it has no need of these makeshifts of indigence and that it will now be guided by intuitions rather than by concepts. There is no regular path which leads from these intuitions into the land of ghostly schemata, the land of abstractions. There exists no word for these intuitions; when man sees them he grows dumb, or else he speaks only in forbidden metaphors and in unheard-of combinations of concepts. He does this so that by shattering and mocking the old conceptual barriers he may at least correspond creatively to the impression of the powerful present intuition.

There are ages in which the rational man and the intuitive man stand side by side, the one in fear of intuition, the other with scorn for abstraction. The latter is just as irrational as the former is inartistic. They both desire to rule over life: the former, by knowing how to meet his principle needs by means of foresight, prudence, and regularity; the latter, by disregarding these needs and, as an "overjoyed hero," counting as real only that life which has been disguised as illusion and beauty. Whenever, as was perhaps the case in ancient Greece, the intuitive man handles his weapons more authoritatively and victoriously than his opponent, then, under favorable circumstances, a culture can take shape and art's mastery over life can be established. All the manifestations of such a life will be accompanied by this dissimulation, this disavowal of indigence, this glitter of metaphorical intuitions, and, in general, this immediacy of deception: neither the house, nor the gait, nor the clothes, nor the clay jugs give evidence of having been invented because of a pressing need. It seems as if they were all intended to express an exalted happiness, an Olympian cloudlessness, and, as it were, a playing with seriousness. The man who is guided by concepts and abstractions only succeeds by such means in warding off misfortune, without ever gaining any happiness for himself from these abstractions. And while he aims for the greatest possible freedom from pain, the intuitive man, standing in the midst of a culture, already reaps from his intuition a harvest of continually inflowing illumination, cheer, and redemption—in addition to obtaining a defense against misfortune. To be sure, he suffers more intensely, when he suffers; he even suffers more frequently, since he does not understand how to learn from experience and keeps falling over and over again into the same ditch. He is then just as irrational in sorrow as he is in happiness: he cries aloud and will not be consoled. How differently the stoical man who learns from experience and governs himself by concepts is affected by the same misfortunes! This man, who at other times seeks nothing but sincerity, truth, freedom from deception, and protection against ensnaring surprise attacks, now executes a masterpiece of deception: he executes his masterpiece of deception in misfortune, as the other type of man executes his in times of happiness. He wears no quivering and changeable human face, but, as it were, a mask with dignified, symmetrical features. He does not cry; he does not even alter his voice. When a real storm cloud thunders above him, he wraps himself in his cloak, and with slow steps he walks from beneath it.

Frederich Nietzsche

[tomakeitbeautifultolive]

Hi, I first heard of N+A=D from your page. Ever since then I was wandering through internet to find more evidence on this theory. But the only thing I cannot digest is the lack of any concern in Ned's PoV. Honestly the only way it could've worked is with Ned not knowing about Ashara's child. Maybe Ashara was angry with him , or she wanted the best for him and spare hum the pain, either way she asked her family to keep the existence of the child's alive status a secret.Maybe that's (1)

(2) why Dany was sent away. Because Ashara wanted to keep her knowledge away from Ned. It's not you or me we are talking about here, it's Ned Stark the most honourable man in the entire solar system! In any way I can't possibly imagine any other scenario in which Ned doesn't even think about his former love and child that is alive. What do you think???

___________________________________________________

Hello! Thanks so much for the question! I definitely lean "Ned has no idea" - and that it's actually Jon Arryn who has been working behind the scenes with Ashara on his (unwitting) behalf.

While there are a few fishy things about Ned (like his weird connection to the Searlord of Braavos) that raise some questions, based on what we get in his POV - it's safest to assume that if he thought he was the father of Ashara's child, that that child died in stillbirth and Ashara, in suicide. Which is exactly why, over a decade later, he's not actively thinking of either in his POVs (I like to use myself as an example - my first boyfriend died in a car accident a little over a decade ago. I almost never think of him. So to me, it's not weird that Ned isn't dwelling on the death of his first love because he has a wife and children and the whole North and now all of the Seven Kingdoms to concern himself with).

Even people who don't believe this theory tend to speculate whether or not Ashara faked her death. Many people assume she is Septa Mordane. To which I always wonder... but why? For a casual reader who believes Ashara faked her death, what is the motivation there?

Meanwhile, I have my theory: Ashara faked her death and the death of her child to protect not just the man she loved, but the 'prince that was promised', Jon. After all, the Daynes have a heavy hand in Jon's birth, as detailed with Arthur guarding the prince and Starfall lending their milkmaid. As a lady of the court under Elia Martell and in close proximity to Rhaella, with Jon Arryn's help, it would be quite easy to fabricate a different origin story for the baby girl who donned very prominent Dayne features - which so happen to look Targaryen.

And before I get any retort about what a terrible idea that was? Yes, I get that Daenerys and Viserys ended up "on the run" at some point - but that was never the plan. Many, many children across Westeros are fostered with other families (Ned and his brother Brandon included, might I add). Daenerys was always meant to live a nice, safe, relatively cushioned life until she made it back to Dorne to wed Quentyn Martell (the pact signed by Oberyn, himself - who, based on context clues, happens to be a friend to Ashara). While Robert would’ve loved the death of the Targaryen children, it was Jon Arryn who protected them for years and years, as confirmed by Renly. So long as Jon Arryn lived, Daenerys was safe.

I'm absolutely willing to bet that prior to Brandon's death, many things were supposed to unfold differently. Such as Ned marrying Ashara. But the Rebellion happened, and Ned was forced to marry his brother's intended upon his death.

While readers have the impression that Ned is 'the most honorable man in the solar system', remember that those across Westeros had seemingly no problem buying these rumors about Ned and Ashara (Harwin, Cersei, etc) as well as his having fathered a bastard (Jon). (I mean, Cersei even tried to seduce Ned at one point!). To me, Ned is one of the most misunderstood characters in the series! Here’s why:

Honor has two different meanings, really. For modern readers, we relate it to integrity and morality, but from what I can glean from Westerosi expectations, it's more about prestige and respect, honoring one's king or duty first, even above what's morally right (that's why you see so many characters, such as the Cleganes, rewarded with gold and prestige for heinous, immoral acts).

Consider Ned's honor again while reading this quote from Aemon to Jon:

Tell me, Jon, if the day should ever come when your lord father must needs choose between honor on the one hand and those he loves on the other, what would he do?

Jon hesitated. He wanted to say that Lord Eddard would never dishonor himself, not even for love, yet inside a small sly voice whispered, He fathered a bastard, where was the honor in that? And your mother, what of his duty to her, he will not even say her name. "He would do whatever was right," he said… ringingly, to make up for his hesitation. "No matter what."

Jon hesitates. He wants to believe his father's honor is unimpeachable. Yet what he says is that Eddard would do what was right - and that's true. Ned did not choose the honorable path when he chose to save Jon's life that day - he did what was right:

Then Lord Eddard is a man in ten thousand. Most of us are not so strong. What is honor compared to a woman's love?

This hint is twofold - that there isn’t anything special about Ned, he’s subject to the same emotions as any man, especially when it comes to a certain woman’s love... and that there is a clear difference between honor and love, that they do not go hand-in-hand as many readers/viewers assume.

What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms... or the memory of a brother's smile?

Duty would've been to Ned’s king - handing over his nephew upon his discovery. Duty would've been telling his wife the truth. Instead, the most important thing to Ned - even above his own life - was the love and memory of his sister. Which is why, even if he's completely oblivious to his bastard daughter's identity - he cannot stomach the death of another innocent child at the hands of his king. He knows what will happen to Jon if ever the secret comes out, because he had witnessed it with Aegon and Rhaenys. Likewise, the life of one innocent child - Daenerys - means more to him than does his honor, which is why he quits his position as Hand. Ned is not the pinnacle of honor nor has he ever been, but he strives to be the pinnacle of morality and justice, often at the cost of his honor and respect.

I'll leave you with this, as I might've just had a tiny little revelation. When first asked about whether or not the books would end differently from the show, GRRM decides to give us a strange comparison:

"Book or show, which will be the 'real' ending? It's a silly question. How many children did Scarlett O'Hara have?"

This subtle suggestion might actually insinuate something huge - that perhaps a certain character will have more children in the books than their show counterpart... 🤔 Such an insignificant detail in one series could result in shockwaves in another.

Combining that with GRRM's latest comments about the books having a different ending, it's certainly food for thought! And, assuming Daenerys is Ned's bastard daughter, this force of power that uses her moral compass to guide her all the way back home to save the world... what would the perfect ending be for such a character? Becoming queen or going mad? Somehow, I don’t think so.

Considering there has been much more foreshadowing for Daenerys pining for a simple life and for love rather than queenship or madness (🙄)... I still say her perfect ending is to do what her father, in this case, never could - choosing love over honor.

Thanks again for the question, it’s been my honor to indulge in my favorite theory once again! 🌠🐺

[jonsameta]

Hi, me again!

jesuiscommejesuis: Haha, I’m on that GoT grind and probably won’t stop until the premiere 😂. I trust your opinion so unfortunately you have to endure another ask from me. Anyway…I think that most of us have considered the possibility of Jonsa not being canon. (RIP me if that happens). But my question isn’t about whether Jonsa will be or won’t be (I’ve come to terms with the fact that GoT will end how GRRM always intended it to end) it’s about what that possibility means for all of the evidence, clues, foreshadowing, etc that we’ve gathered. In your opinion will Jonsa not happening render those clues and meta meaningless and we were all crazy after all? Or do they take on a new meaning and point us in a new direction? Idk if that even makes sense. Maybe I’m just afraid that Jonsa wont happen and I’m afraid for no other reason other than that I will have looked and sounded insane to all of my GoT friends and had nothing to show for it. Also do you know of any interviews or blog posts from GRRM possibly supporting Jonsa? Same for D&D? Or any other people on or working with the show? Thank you so much!! 💙

—-

Hi there, 

The thing about theories is they’re like Shrodinger’s cat. If you try to be objective, you have to entertain the possibility that it won’t happen, but it can’t completely be false until proven otherwise. That said, some theories are more probable than others because there’s material within the text that thematically undoes something. This is because a story’s themes (which differs depending on the adaptation but it can’t be completely divorced from the original source either) define its boundaries because they essentially make up “the heart of the story”, not the plot. They give the main characters a moral dilemma that drives their journeys. Considering the themes of the story - both bookwise and showwise - Jonsa is very probable because it answers a lot of long standing character arcs that go beyond these characters and provides a bookend that Jon/Dany cannot considering R+L=J. 

I think anything in this story has to be considered according to the politics - even the fantasy part because the personal is political. With such a spread out story only the themes and the morality dilemmas of politics that the smallest moment can have is what holds it all together. And I think the strongest argument for the probability of Jonsa comes from a structural level of gauging the politics. 

Jon’s parentage is a political game changer and the way it’s been built up it cannot just be for personal angst - especially when the element of his parentage revealing him to have a higher claim than Dany is brought up. It doesn’t just affect him or his relationship with Dany. It affects Westeros and Dany’s own longstanding goal.

Jon may not want to be king, but Dany is walking in as a very unpopular figure into the North and the way she has gone about her campaign hasn’t improved her reputation and only worsened it. And Jon himself will lose popularity after having 1) bent the knee to a Targaryen, 2) consorting with a Targaryen and 3) being a secret Targaryen. 

Dany doesn’t realise that although Jon claims to have pledged his allegiance to her, it doesn’t mean the North has fallen into her hands. He’s only lost their faith from this move so no Targaryen by themselves could claim the North. Not to mention the Vale and Riverlands are more allied to Sansa than they are to Jon. To regain faith, he’d have to separate himself from Dany and the Targaryen identity a bit and yet he would need a political statement that only a marriage alliance to Stark could give if he were to remain in power. There’s also the pesky issue of how unknowingly Sansa and the Starks have more allies than Dany (or Jon without the Starks) does as everyone comes into Winterfell. So Sansa’s constant label as “key to the North” and the importance of marriage alliances becomes very important here. He can’t become king or even gain the faith of the people (back) without Sansa. So in that case, the whole notion of the Pact of Ice and Fire being fulfilled through Dany and Jon falls apart because Jon will be seen as an outsider. @thelawyerthatwaspromised has even written a post with infographics to make it easier to understand. It’s like R+L=J resets the chessboard. Ironically, what the audience thought Jon/Dany’s union would do politically is far more possible through Jon/Sansa. 

As it makes sense as a political match, the possibility of it happening and impacting the narrative increases a lot more. The original outline also matters here because clearly the pseudo-incest tag didn’t stop the author. However, as the characters haven’t interacted in real time in the books and aren’t close, there’s not much people have asked him about it nor has GRRM has said about it unless you count his vague reply once (”I won’t say more than I’ve already said in the books”). I’d say there’s more to be gauged from what he has to say about other ships that fandom roots for, that isn’t as positive as they make it out to be - whether Jon/rya, San/San, San/rion or Jon/Dany. It’s not obvious because he hardly shuts down possibilities but there’s reading between the lines. It becomes more obvious through a process of elimination. It’s also because Jon/Sansa as a ship tramples over so many ships that fandoms have banked on that people are inclined to dismiss it rather than re-evaluate the pre-existing ships. 

On the show, people have been coy too but there’s more content to gauge as the characters have already reunited and their dynamic has become pretty pivotal to the story. Where D&D shut down Dany and Yara ever happening, in the same panel they evaded a question about Jon and Sansa being developed as a romantic relationship. Aiden Gil/lian commented on how Jon’s parentage opens up possibilities for Jon and Sansa’s relationship romantically at the end of season 6. Sophie was asked about it post season 6 and she said it was possible because it’s GOT and they’re cousins. Also, there’s Liam Cunnin/gham who once liked a Jonsa fanvideo lol and he barely has any likes. Sophie has said it’s possible, even as she joked about how it would be embarrassing to film an intimate scene. Kit has somehow avoided all questioning, but he has some pretty interesting reactions regarding Jon and Sansa’s relationship - either in the words he chooses (”She twists him like no one else”) or how over the top his reaction to Sansa is when he talks about how annoying she is to the point where he’s flushed and red and laughing while saying “I’ve gotten really animated now that Sansa has come into the story”. Bryan Cogman has a lot to say regarding this dynamic too, that he even wrote Jon leaving Ghost behind to watch over Sansa when he left for Dragonstone. 

What helps regarding the show is that it’s not just the actors or the political sense, but the camerawork and visual framing that makes their scenes very confusing because they’re shot as a romantic couple about to happen, as @trinuviel has explored in her series “All is Subtext”.  This notion that it was “framed” or “shot” that way was echoed by multiple reviewers and podcasts through season 6 and even into the beginning of season 7. 

A huge part of this was because it very subtly visually paralleled more positive romantic ships on the show like Ned/Cat, Jaime/Brienne, Robb/Talisa, Sam/Gilly, Missandei/Greyworm and even Jon/Ygritte to some extent. This is over a course of 7 episodes under 5 different directors. One of the most telling scenes for me was when they did two back to back parallels to Ned/Cat and Jaime/Brienne after Jon chokeholds Littlefinger over Sansa and they go on to give a Jaime/Brienne-esque goodbye. The same director Mark Mylod directed both the season 6 Jaime/Brienne and season 7 Jon/Sansa goodbye. Bryan Cogman even confirmed that the Littlefinger chokehold was meant to parallel Ned doing the same over Cat. 

But in my opinion, what weirdly cemented it was how Jon/Dany contrasted Jon/Sansa’s dynamic and framing. There were a lot of structural decisions made that undercut the Jon/Dany “romance” and made Jon/Sansa look more compatible and romantic, which is something I explored in my “Undoing Romance” series. Again, this is looking beyond the actors. The biggest tell for me was that they never got a first kiss so romantic tension was never released but just dissipated over plot exposition. Moreover, how is it that Jon and Sansa have more parallels with romantic ships than Jon/Dany do? Why do Jon/Sansa have more Robb/Talisa framing through season 6 than Jon/Dany through season 7 if that’s what’s happening? Why was there no passionate first kiss like theirs? We just skipped to the sex in between a montage that told us how related they are. 

Why didn’t Jon look back at Dany when Jorah did, while he looked back at Sansa? Why does Jon react more violently to Sansa’s suitors than to Jorah? Why are these characters caught in triangle with interlopers, who pose a political threat but are also interested in one romantically? Why is this dynamic given so much importance where there’s tension but also there’s emotional vulnerability that pours out contrasting Jon/Sansa’s and Sansa and Arya’s season 6 and season 7 battlements scenes respectively. Why did they reveal R+L=J at the end of season 6 - the season in which people questioned what the hell was happening in the Jon/Sansa dynamic and a whole season before Jon met Dany. Both season finales also teased conflict because of political claims that change because of R+L=J. Where his parentage reveal, relieves Jon/Sansa of the direct incest factor because it biologically distances them, it makes Jon and Dany biologically more related - especially because she’s heavily inbred herself. 

So it is a situation of “will they/won’t they?” but even more subtly because the cast and crew always skips past discussing it and with Jon/Dany happening people take it as accidental chemistry. There’s no heavy dismissal from the TPTB though when there could’ve been or laughing at it like Tormund and Brienne, which is totally for laughs and a show ship. What they do keep saying is that this relationship is key to watch and you have to wonder: why is it so important? To me it’s not about the actors chemistry or singular scenes. It’s about the story’s intrinsic narrative structure and the camera framing that makes the visual subtext convey more than the text does. 

The show frames Jon and Sansa’s relationship is odd because we know they weren’t close and Arya was his favorite and yet they take up quite an important part in each other’s arc at this point, where they both want to trust each other completely but don’t and yet their vulnerability comes out most around each other in these last two seasons. They’re being built up more slowly than Jon/Dany and more subtly so while people expect a full blown romance, I expect something more subtle, more quiet and thus emotionally rewarding for these characters individual and collective arcs. If it happens, D&D are building it up as a plot twist/game changer because it’s related to politics. But it’s not to say there can’t be emotional catharsis too because these characters have a lot of issues that they answer pretty well. 

Hope that answers your questions. 

- lostlittlesatellites

[thedcdunce]

Wonder Girl

“We do this to help people, right? Save lives. So even if we die saving one it's worth the trade-off. Right?” - Wonder Girl

Real Name: Cassandra "Cassie" Elizabeth Sandsmark

Aliases:

Drusilla Priam

Donna Prince

Gender: Female

Height: 5′ 3″

Weight: 124 lbs (56 kg)

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Blonde

Race: Demigod

Powers:

Demi-Goddess Empowerment

Superhuman Strength

Superhuman Speed

Superhuman Durability

Superhuman Reflexes

Flight

Immortality

Abilities:

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced)

Leadership

Swordsmanship

Weaknesses:

Maternal Depowerment

Equipment:

Gauntlet of Atlas

Sandals of Hermes

Lasso of Lightning

Universe: New Earth

Base of Operations: 

Titans Tower, San Francisco

Gateway City

Philadelphia

Georgetown

Citizenship: American

Parents: 

Zeus; father

Helena Sandsmark; mother

Marital Status: Single

Occupation: Student

First Appearance: Wonder Woman Vol 2 #105 (January, 1996)

Last Appearance: Teen Titans Vol 3 #100 (October, 2011)

Powers

Demi-Goddess Empowerment: She was eventually granted abilities by Zeus, who granted "her fondest wish." This gift's import proves to be rather vague, and Cassie could arguably have access to more powers than she has previously been aware of. After Zeus and the other gods had left the mortal realm which left her bereft of her powers, Ares secretly made a pact with her and made her his champion on Earth, restoring and increasing her powers even further. After her fight with Lycus, she lost her powers under Ares but managed to access abilities of her own demi-god heritage and power.

Superhuman Strength: Her Olympian flesh and bone is about one and a half times as dense as similar human tissue, contributing to the Olympians' superhuman strength and weight.

Superhuman Speed: Cassie can move at supersonic speeds.

Superhuman Durability: Cassie' s durability is not vulnerable to bullets.

Superhuman Reflexes

Flight

Immortality

Abilities

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced)

Leadership

Swordsmanship

Weaknesses

Maternal Depowerment: Discouraged by previously shown arrogance in his children, Zeus also blessed Cassie's mother with the ability to take away her powers for a short time via a simple touch. However, this may not be true now that she is no longer drawing her strength from Zeus.

Equipment

Gauntlet of Atlas

Sandals of Hermes

Lasso of Lightning: Ares approached her and gave Cassie her own magic lasso. Unlike Wonder Woman's Lasso of Truth, Cassie's is a weapon which channels Zeus' lightning.

History

Cassandra "Cassie" Sandsmark was the second person to be called Wonder Girl; the first being Donna Troy. Cassie was the daughter of Dr. Helena Sandsmark and the Greek god Zeus.

Origin

Cassie spent most of her time at her mother's place of work, the Gateway City Museum of Antiquities, where she had a penchant for getting into trouble. She quickly befriended her mother's new employee, Wonder Woman, and was eager to help her. During a fight with a Doomsday clone and another battle with Decay, she created a costume and used magical acquirements to help Wonder Woman, much to her mother's horror. Cassie later had the opportunity to ask Zeus for a boon, and requested real superpowers. Zeus granted her request, but gave Dr. Sandsmark the ability to deactivate them. Dr. Sandsmark, however, reluctantly accepted her daughter's wish to be a superheroine and rarely, if ever, used this ability. Artemis was assigned as her teacher.

Even without her power, Cassie was a problem child, and frequently had to change schools. Throughout her teens, she attended Holliday School for Girls, Brewer High School, Dennis Peterson High School, Gateway City High School, and eventually the Saint Elias School for Girls.

Young Justice

Cassie heavily idolized Donna Troy, the original Wonder Girl, and to that effect wore a black wig over her natural blond hair. Donna gave Cassie the second costume she wore as Wonder Girl, but Cassie was afraid to wear it lest it were ruined. As Wonder Girl, Cassie joined Young Justice due to her crush on Superboy. She became close friends with Arrowette, Secret, and Empress. During her time with that group, the dark god Oblivion caused Wonder Woman's Wonder Dome palace to destroy Gateway City. Artemis ordered Cassie to help with crowd control instead of wasting time putting on her Wonder Girl disguise. Agreeing with her, Cassie revealed her secret identity before news cameras for the first time in her superhero career. Cassie eventually became the leader of the team, after beating Robin during an election for command. Her secret identity was again publicly revealed when the second Silver Swan attacked her at her high school. Young Justice was disbanded after Optitron offered to fund both the Titans and Young Justice. Donna Troy was thought to have been killed by a rogue Superman android, leaving Cassie shaken and causing both teams to disband.

Teen Titans

Cassie later joined some former members of Young Justice in the newest incarnation of the Teen Titans. She was gifted with a lasso by Ares, the Greek god of war and frequent enemy of Wonder Woman and the Amazons. Despite appearing similar to Wonder Woman's lasso, Cassie's expels Zeus' lightning when used in anger. Ares appeared to Wonder Girl, usually to warn her about "the coming war." During her time with the Titans, Cassie also developed a relationship with Superboy, whom she had harbored feelings for during their time together in Young Justice.

Crisis

During a battle against Brother Blood and a handful of zombie Titans, she acknowledged that her powers were fluctuating and sometimes disappearing altogether. Despite this, Cassie attempted to help Superboy after he was beaten to near-death by Superboy-Prime. After intervening and subsequently saving him, Cassie and the Titans infiltrated a Lexcorp laboratory to find a way to cure Superboy. While the other Titans flew to Blüdhaven following an attack from the Society, Cassie remained at Titans Tower to watch over Superboy. When he awoke, the pair of them reconnected and remembered their past in Young Justice, which seemed so much happier and easier. Conner then took Cassie to Smallville, and, afraid that it would be their last night together, consummated their relationship.

Ares appeared to her again, informing Cassie that the reason behind her weakening power was Zeus taking back the powers he had granted to her as he left the mortal plane. Ares then offered Cassie some of his power in exchange for becoming his champion and acknowledging him as her brother. She joined Superboy and Nightwing up north, with powers returned, to assist in the assault on Alexander Luthor's tower. Superboy sacrificed his life to defeat Superboy-Prime and destroy the tower. He died in Cassie's arms.

The Cult of Conner

In the aftermath of Superboy-Prime's actions, the Teens Titans fell apart. Cassandra left the Titans following Robin's departure. She felt abandoned by her best friends.

Bereaved and desperate, Cassie became involved in an online cult heavily influenced by Kryptonian culture that she believed could bring Superboy back to life. She set up an altar in Titans Tower with Kryptonian crystals and a gold figure with the Superman-insignia, which meant "hope" on Krypton. Soon, Ralph Dibny approached her because someone defaced the grave of his wife Sue with an upside down "S" Shield, which in Kryptonian means "resurrection."

About five days later, Cassie and her fellow cult members meet with Ralph. Cassie mentioned that it was another member, Devem, who led her to join. Cassie explained that the goal of the cult was to resurrect Superboy. As a test of their process, they intend to resurrect Sue Dibny. Cassie and Ralph attended a ceremony designed to resurrect Sue, but Ralph grew suspicious and with the help of other superheroes, disrupts the ceremony, destroying the Kryptonite which was essential to the process. Cassie left with Devem, blaming Ralph for destroying her chances to resurrect Superboy. After stopping Weather Wizard in Metropolis, Cassie met Supernova and referred to him incorrectly as Kon-El, actually turning out to be Booster Gold in disguise.

Return to the Teen Titans

Wonder Girl attempted to stop Gemini of the Brotherhood of Evil from escaping S.T.A.R. Labs with valuable technology, revealing that she had been following the Brotherhood for some time. She also donned a new costume influenced by that of the late Superboy, wearing a Golden Age Wonder Woman-themed t-shirt and denim jeans.

She "temporarily" rejoined the team, under the suggestion of Cyborg so that they may combine their forces to defeat the Brotherhood of Evil. Both Robin and Cyborg hoped that she would agree to return permanently. When Kid Devil was mortally injured during a battle with the Brotherhood, the Doom Patrol arrived on the scene, offering to help. Yet there was a large rift between the two teams, and Wonder Girl seemed particularly upset that Beast Boy left the team to rejoin the Doom Patrol. After the combined efforts of the Teen Titans and Doom Patrol defeat the Brotherhood of Evil, she decided to rejoin the team permanently. When she went to tell Robin of her decision, she discovered his secret failed attempts to bring back Superboy. In their shared grief, the pair kissed one another, but upon realizing what they had done, Wonder Girl flew away from Robin. The pair never talked about the incident beyond coming to the agreement that it was a mistake, but both discussed it with others. With her life in disarray, Cassie was having difficulty with her personal life, often having major confrontations with her mother. Cassie had however gained a new friendship with the recently returned Supergirl, who had shared with her in mourning the loss of Superboy and Paradise Island.

Cassie and Tim tried to convince Raven to resurrect Superboy, as she had recently brought back Jericho. However, Raven claimed that Superboy's soul had already transcended their plane of existence. The discussion was cut short when Cassie was captured by Deathstroke's villainous Titans East, along with Robin and Raven after an attack by Inertia and Match. Each member of Titans East had been recruited to counter a specific Titan. Deathstroke selected Match, a clone of Superboy, to counter Cassie. Not only could he match her strength, but Match's appearance had a psychological advantage over the Teen Titans.

The Titans battled furiously against the Titans East, during which they were able to convince Batgirl and Duela Dent to switch sides. Unfortunately that team was defeated by Slade's, but thankfully Raven, Cyborg and Duela Dent managed to get aid from Nightwing, Donna Troy, Beast Boy and Flash. Together, the two generations of Titans overcame Slade, who along with Inertia, managed to escape.

Cassie was still very furious at Diana, who she felt abandoned her during the last year. She was also not pleased that Robin was aware of Diana's disappearance, but never told her about it. Diana and Cassie had not been able to discuss their past differences, partially due to the kidnapping of Donna Troy. When Donna questioned Cassie's hesitance to be near Match due to his resemblance to Superboy, Cassie finally broke down and told Donna how hurt she was over Superboy's death after all that time. Adding to her pain, Cassandra attended Bart Allen's funeral. During a heated and controversial eulogy, she vowed to get revenge for Bart's death.

Cassie and Supergirl discovered that their friends and family had been placed in an internment camp due to their ties to the Amazons. After a failed attempt to aid them, the two heroes agreed to bring the U.S. President to Hippolyta in order to stop the war. They are ambushed by a group of Amazons in the process, which caused the President to become mortally wounded. The actions of the Amazons and Wonder Girl's own involvement caused public outcry and hatred against all those who had followed in Wonder Woman's footsteps. Ultimately, Cassie declared that despite her training and past, she was not an Amazon, preferring her ties to the Teen Titans over that of Paradise Island. Accepting her decision, Artemis wished her well and left Cassie to her devices. Wonder Girl celebrated by sharing another kiss with Robin in front of her teammates.

In the months following the kiss, Cassie and Tim continued to go through "will-they-won't-they" moments in which they both questioned the validity of their relationship. It was after a battle against an army of future Titans, the pair finally decided to date. Unfortunately, their relationship is short-lived, as after their first official date Cassie ended the relationship, feeling guilty that she was using Tim. This resulted in a growing animosity between the pair, which began to bleed into their relationships with the other Titans.

Wonder Girl

Cassandra attempted to redeem herself for the mistakes made by the Amazons on her own. Cassie adopted a secret identity, taking up the name "Drusilla." However, as she attempted to apprehend a group of mystical beasts left over from the Amazons' attack, she found herself confronted by her half-brother Hercules, who claimed he wanted to help her become a true champion of the gods and to rebuild Olympus. Cassie was reluctant to trust him. Hercules persisted and chased after Cassandra, taking the form of Superboy in order to get her attention.

Together, Hercules and Cassie tried to discover who was attacking the remaining Olympian gods. Soon into their search, they were attacked by the Female Furies. Hercules stopped the fight by explaining that he had allied with the Furies in hopes of rescuing the gods, or, failing that, starting a new pantheon with them. The Furies had their own plans and were only using Hercules to get to Cassie. The Furies soon betrayed them, with Bloody Mary using her bite to influence Hercules. The Furies kidnapped Cassie's mother to lure her into a trap. Aided by the Olympian, Cassandra went into battle, being forced to fight her own brother. The Teen Titans, Empress, Arrowette and Wonder Woman showed up to help. After Bloody Mary was murdered by the New Gods killer, Hercules was freed from her spell and immediately saved Cassandra from being kidnapped by the Furies. Hercules went free after he revealed he was now a demi-god and that Zeus released him to help stop "the Great Disaster". Hercules then left to perform certain "labors." Cassandra eventually reconciling with Wonder Woman, who told Cassie that she has become her own woman.

Cassie was later attacked by her nephew Lycus, the son of Ares. He attempted to take her title as Ares' avatar, along with her power. Although he was successful in stealing Cassie's powers derived from Ares, Cassie discovered that she no longer needed to be blessed with powers from the gods as she willed her own innate power to surface. Cassie now possessed a high level of super-strength of her own.

Robin made the decision to leave the Teen Titans for an undetermined length of time in the wake of Batman's death, leaving Cassie with the task of assembling and leading a new team. After an unsuccessful attempt by Kid Devil to recruit teen metahumans such as Klarion, Shining Knight, and the teen members of the Justice Society of America, Cassie eventually gaieds three new Titans in Static, Aquagirl, and Kid Eternity. Kid Eternity's ability to summon the spirits of the deceased briefly tempted Cassie into having him summon Conner's spirit. She eventually decided against it, telling Eternity never to grant her such a request, even if she were to beg him.

Return of Superboy

Cassie became aware of Conner's rebirth by Brainiac 5's hand. Despite meeting him briefly on his return, Cassie decided to wait until Martha Kent herself, now sheltering Conner at her place, invited Cassie for dinner, essentially granting Cassie and Conner a date. At first skeptical and fearing to "end as Lana Lang", she was touched by Conner opening his heart to her about her fears and dreams for their future life, and thus decided to tell Conner about herself and Tim Drake. Conner quickly forgave her, explaining that even if Cassie still loved him, she could not have known of his impending resurrection. Happily, Cassie agreed to rekindle their relationship.

Leader of Teen Titans

Due to personal responsibilities, neither Conner nor Bart returned to the team, though Cassie still continued to lead. However, following the demise of Red Devil, Cassie started questioning her leadership and began to make mistakes. During a massive battle with Cinderblock in downtown San Francisco, Cassie refused to let her team attack the villain directly, causing massive destruction to the area. The heroes continued in their fruitless stalemate until Beast Boy arrived and took command of the team, leading to their victory. In the aftermath of the battle, Beast Boy told Cassie that she had to stop dwelling on Red Devil's death or else more innocent people were going to get hurt, something she did not take kindly.

A few days later, Beast Boy made the decision to move back into Titans Tower and replace Cassie as the head of the team, declaring that they needed a more experienced leader to get back on track. Though Cassie initially said nothing about this, she ultimately becomes angry and told Beast Boy that no one asked for his help, and that she can lead the team just fine. Beast Boy simply replied by saying that the Teen Titans need help, and that everyone, including Cyborg, though so.

Defending Titans Tower

Cassie joined Kid Flash and Beast Boy as part of a small group of past and present Titans who assembled at Titans Tower. Lacking assistance from Static, Miss Martian, Blue Beetle, Bombshell, and Aquagirl, the team barely survived the onslaught.

After Dove used her abilities to destroy the Black Lanterns, Cassie and the others traveled to Coast City in order to assist the Flash and Green Lantern in there battle with Nekron. To the horror of the gathered heroes, Nekron used his abilities to transform several once-dead heroes into Black Lanterns, including Superboy, Kid Flash, Donna and Wonder Woman. In the ensuing battle, Cassie was killed when Wonder Woman violently tore her heart out. However, the entire battle was a mental ruse by Aphrodite, and Cassie was still be alive. When Black Lantern Conner attacked Cassie, all the while attempting to break free from the Black Ring's control, Conner managed to break the control in temporary, short lapses, which he used to alert Cassie of the solution to his Black Ring problem. The battle moved to the fortress, where Cassie realized what Conner was referring to when he told them to move to the Fortress of Solitude where Conner's corpse was placed as he awaited his resurrection in the future. The Black Ring, confused, left the living Conner and tried to attach itself to his corpse. Conner used his freeze breath ability, freezing the ring, and Cassie threw it into orbit. After reconciling, the trio headed back to Coast City for the final battle.

Fun Facts

Cassandra was in love and in a relationship with Superboy, before he died. After his recent resurrection they have decided to put their feelings on hold to allow Cassandra to better lead the Teen Titans, after Red Robin joined the team, however, she relinquished control of the Titans and still has not rekindled her relationship.

[tortoisesshells]

on to the finish line! The Alienist, 1x09 and 1x10

I really, really don’t like that Mary was killed. I think it’s fair to call this fridging - Mary’s death is primarily significant because Laszlo loves(/d) her - she didn’t really have an onscreen arc of her own - although the show certainly implies she’s had quite a journey to become the woman she is.

That being said, I appreciate that the scene at her funeral features Stevie and Cyrus, who were members of her household and her friends, and that John reads at the interment. It’s not much, but at least the show makes and effort to be clear she was a beloved member of a community, no matter how small. The character deserved better, but I’ve seen much worse.

Also, because this show really wanted to hurt me, Theodore Roosevelt, in offering his sympathies to Laszlo, tells him “Please forgive me for offering the same advice you once gave me. You are not alone in your sorrow, and there’s no shame in grieving for those you love.” Presumably Laszlo told him that in February of 1884, when Alice Hathaway Lee Roosevelt, his first wife, died hours after Roosevelt’s mother, Mittie Bullock Roosevelt (on February 14th, too). I appreciate the validation: that Mary was just as important to Laszlo as Alice had been to TR. Doesn’t help with the fridging, but it lends narrative weight to Mary’s short arc.

(also, Laszlo kissing the earth her throws on Mary’s coffin is a new standard of pain for me.)

honestly, Lucius should have let Marcus bash Doyle’s skull in. how many slurs can a man fit into a two minute interrogation? jesus. forget van Bergen, Doyle and Connor make me want to scrub until my skin comes off.

The short scene between Stevie and Cyrus after Mary’s funeral is the most important scene. Stevie, scrubbing dishes, taking up the space that Mary should be in, crying and swearing he’s going to get Connor? Cyrus nonchalantly sharpening a pocketknife and telling Stevie that he doesn’t have to cut a man’s throat to kill him, he just needs to nick a vein?  again, they were Mary’s friends and surrogate family. Their grief, especially as those who have been wronged by society and the police/criminal justice system in the past, is important.

I genuinely was not expecting that, that the murderer had been an enumerator. 

it’s always cats. Seriously, this show talked about the connection between cruelty to animals and cruelty towards humans - kill animals as an early warning sign? - but I, personally, would have loved a digression on the connection in between reformers trying to eliminate cruelty to children and cruelty to animals in the late 19th century. 

WILL SOMEONE PLEASE SHOOT CONNOR

god, Cyrus, you were so close. 

for once, this refrain of “jfc, Laszlo” is brought to you not by Laszlo being a dick to Sara or John or Mary, but because of him getting drunk, monologuing @ his dead father in German, and stabbing himself in the bad arm what the hell

EW EW EW EW EW EW EW

Theodore Roosevelt: Moment Killer. c’mon, let Sara and John have an actual conversation and heart-to-heart already.

oh, man. This conversation between Sara and Laszlo was heavy, hurt, and was a really, really long time coming. I’m glad Laszlo finally apologized for hitting her, and meant it - he’s been cavalier with the harm he’s done others. And ... jesus. What an admission from Sara. It’s understandable, just knowing that her father died by suicide, that her father is a sore subject and that the lessons he taught her are so sacred. But that he’d tried and failed, and - at 12 years old! - she’d helped him kill himself because he asked? I paused the episode and just put my head in my hands. And thank Christ Laszlo acted like her friend, finally, and not the titular alienist. ~Growth~

(I’m less surprised by Laszlo’s own admission - that his father broke his arm so badly as a child it never healed properly - though, again, it’s a sincerely painful moment, but two things? it’s been hinted at since episode six, and, coming on the heels of Sara’s confession, it feels less like a narrative blow and more like a blood-letting: a clearing of the air, an apology, a pact.)

The fellowship has been reassembled!

“I’m not the least bit frightened by these ... psychopaths.” John’s grandmother (Mrs. Moore?) is an icon, I tell you.

well, the murderer is Private Starks. That’s something? I’m always glad to see my Mercy Street folks popping up elsewhere but, wow, this is going to kill my ability to watch 1x05 and 1x06, now.

awww, if it isn’t one of my favorite tropes: bidding farewell to loved ones before going into danger. Marcus Isaacson AND Teddy R. 

we take the moment to put the plot on hold in order to reveal that John’s fiance didn’t just dump him, Julia Pratt left him to pursue a relationship with John Jacob Astor IV! DAMN.

Laszlo really had to wait until the last scene of the opera, when Don Giovanni gets dragged to Hell, in order to make a break for it?! thematically appropriate and solidifying his position as the most dramatic.

ohhhhhh, man. this whole sequence makes me so claustrophobic I’m itching. maybe that’s the wrong word? The atmosphere is so oppressive, the darkness pushing in on all sides, the water steadily dripping? Well done, show.

... I honestly expected Laszlo to be angrier, more upset? when Connor confronts him. They all know Connor killed Mary. But bravo, Sara, for killing Connor. Finally.

Roosevelt telling Sara her father would have been proud of her is such a bittersweet moment!

HE HAD A RING FOR MARY IM NOT OKAY on the one hand, Laszlo, you only managed to ask her to have dinner with you one (1) time! but also rather in character for him, all told, that he’d have gotten that far ahead of himself but at the end of the day, I repeat, I am not okay with this information. 

Honestly, John staring at Sara with hearts in his eyes? hard same.

“I still believe we can be better than nature intended.” bold words for someone who’s just been through nearly a half year of Hell. Proud of you, Laszlo.

So that’s it! This has been ... quite a ride. I think it’s pretty clear this show’s the product of the 90s - when the book was written - its concerns about the origins of serial killers & the development of forensic science, and, honestly, how it deals with women and people of color. It did have some of the Good Stuff re: social commentary and critiques of power and especially police forces. I stand by my observation - that some of the dialogue and plotting was clunky, and, looking back on the episodes, it dragged a little bit in the middle for me. I’m curious about how the book stacks up, tbh. All in all, not bad for something I watched almost entirely for the costume and set design (and Daniel Bruhl). Will watch again?