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infantisimo · 2 years

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A man is calling home from the phone booth of a hospital. He is in the emergency room, but doesn’t want to scare his wife, so he tells her that he has a stomach problem, nothing more. The wife blames herself for not being there with him. He smiles and presses one hand against the glass partition of the booth. “Really, it’s not that bad,” he says. She asks him about the doctor. He pauses before answering. If not for the pause, you’d never suspect that something else is at stake. Now you understand that the man is lying: “Don’t worry, it’s nothing.” His hands are fumbling inside the booth for what he can’t bring himself to say.

Since Irrfan Khan died in 2020, I have returned often to this moment from The Namesake. Something about the man’s tact—part of what Khan once called the “rhythm” of every character he plays—has remained with me for months: something about those hands. Khan’s career was in many ways studded with tragic roles—a doomed lover in Maqbool, a stubborn outlaw in Paan Singh Tomar, a hands-on billionaire pursuing a dinosaur from a helicopter in Jurassic World—and yet I keep replaying the one death scene where his character doesn’t let the audience know what is about to come. The man persuades his wife that he is alright before putting back the receiver. Then he withdraws his hands into his pockets and walks away from us.

There was Khan fifteen years ago, just when his film career was starting to take off, somehow able to embody the sense of an ending. He would come to repeat the performance, this time for real, once he was diagnosed with cancer in 2018. In a span of two weeks, his calendar changed: his life, as he wrote then, quickly became “a suspense story.” He moved with his wife, Sutapa Sikdar, to London for treatment. But a year later, he was back in India, shooting a film, looking happy on set. For a while, as in that scene in The Namesake, his demeanour seemed to betray nothing untoward. After his death, Sikdar revealed that his medical reports “were like scripts which I wanted to perfect.” In his last months, while coming to terms with his illness, Khan was sparing his future biographers any qualms about pacing.

Actors’ lives do tend to mirror the imagined arcs of their movies, but Khan’s trajectory seems ultimately more redemptive than the elusive men he portrayed. To those of us who grew up in India at the turn of the millennium, Khan first proved that it was possible to be a protagonist in a popular film and not sing and dance in the rain; that a character could be brought to life as much by what they said as what they didn’t; that a scene you watched unfold swiftly on screen often involved years of contemplation and restraint. When Khan took up roles in international releases like The Namesake and A Mighty Heart, he didn’t undergo much of a makeover. He was still the outsider, born to middle-class Muslim parents in Jaipur. He seemed worlds apart from the prancing heroes of Bollywood musicals, the handful of families who maintained an incestuous grip over the studio system in Bombay, or the older generation of cosmopolitan Indian actors who spoke Edwardian English and contented themselves with supporting roles in British period films. In just over a decade, he became a presence on screens all over the world, with appearances in The Warrior, The Lunchbox, Slumdog Millionaire, Haider, Life of Pi, Jurassic World, even a sizeable part in The Inferno, where he outshone a glib Tom Hanks in scene after scene.

The first time I noticed Khan on a screen I thought he screamed like Al Pacino. Not the Pacino of Scarface or Dog Day Afternoon, braying out threats all over the place, but rather the don in The Godfather Part III: older, lonelier, the bravado all but invisible, howling skyward when his daughter dies in his arms. The scene I watched Khan in, from Life in a Metro, didn’t feature any deaths, but the moment I remember was inflected with a similar sadness—a need, paradoxically private, to exert one’s lungs out. Khan’s character, Monty, has dragged his work friend Shruti (played by Konkona Sen Sharma) out to the rooftop of their office building in Bombay. Shruti happens to be dealing with multiple disappointments in her life. Her sister’s marriage is falling apart; the last man she dated lied to her about his identity. “Who are you angry with?” Monty asks her. “Somebody in particular? Or just your luck? Whatever it is, just let it out.” At first, Shruti is reluctant—“It’s not so easy,” she tells him—but then the two of them scan the skyline for a moment and start shouting together at once. Their voices ring out in the quiet. The building is tall enough to drown out the city’s sounds and impose a simulated silence. When Shruti breaks down halfway through, you sense that she is facing up to her pain. But Monty’s yelling is tinged with the weariness of having tried a trick one too many times and still being doomed to try again.

From that moment on, you know that Monty and Shruti will fall for each other. The scene on the roof crackles with the thrill of seeing and being seen, the vulnerability usually associated with a first kiss. Later in the film, Monty asks her why she ghosted him after that first date. She replies that she’d caught him staring at her breasts once. “That?” Monty bursts out shouting. “You rejected me for just that?” Then he grins and steals a glance at her body again. Khan’s eyes carry that scene. You can’t really tell whether they seem glazed over because of the smoke from his cigarette, or because he is pretending to be upset.

I fell quickly for Khan: those pauses, those eyes. How they made you think there was more to him than he let on. As a teenager, I’d spend days watching the Godfather movies on a loop, mouthing Pacino’s lines, memorizing his gestures to try on friends. Now I modelled myself on an Indian counterpart who didn’t even need a good line to be noticed. When I moved to Bombay for college, I remember walking around the sea on my first evening and finding myself at the exact spot where they had filmed Monty confronting Shruti about her rejection of him. It felt like a meaningful sign in a city that seemed to desperately believe in portents. Everywhere you went, you could glimpse in people’s faces either a placid certainty or a fear of transformation. Inside crowded trains during office hours, unsure if the incoming rush will part for me to get down at my stop, I’d overhear lonely men consoling one another with their plans of getting married and rich. Couples lined the promenades and beaches late at night, their backs turned to the bright lights on land, as if their time together made more sense in the dark. Each time you passed by the studio lots, rows of would-be actors sized you up around the gates, in case you were a casting agent looking to give someone new a break.

I, too, had come looking for a break. But what was it that I wanted to do? One week I’d design a billboard campaign for an ice cream brand, aspiring to end up in an ad agency. The next week I was a documentary filmmaker, getting arrested while shooting undercover in a temple. I longed for the exhaustion of experience: perhaps a job where, at the end of the day, someone might invite me to the rooftop of the office building and let me yell my feelings out. Khan’s antics exuded depth, an air of having seen and lived through so much—precisely the image a college student, hungry for life, yearns to project.

Once, I asked a woman to meet me early in the morning near the waterfront. The idea was to find a quiet place and, I remember texting this, shout “our inner demons out.” It must have been a confusing message and yet she showed up more or less on time. We sat on two chairs overlooking the beach and risked stern glances from morning joggers to awkwardly launch our voices across the sea. The sun was already blazing on our backs and soon we gave up trying to impress one another. We started going out not long after, but never spoke of that day again.

Irrfan Khan was born Sahabzade Irfan Ali Khan at a time, long ago now, when Indian Muslims were perceived as Indian above all. His father was a lapsed aristocrat who had given up his family land and privileges but still liked to go on frequent hunting trips. His mother was more introverted and usually at home. Little Irfan, the second of four children and the first boy, would have liked nothing more than to be affirmed by her. “I desired to be close to her,” Khan once said in an interview, “but somehow we’d end up fighting with each other. I used to imagine her patting my head in approval—I think I’ve been looking for that feeling all my life.”

His mother imagined that her children would settle not far from her in Jaipur, taking up modest jobs that just about paid the bills. Years ago, her brother had travelled to Bombay, looking for work, and never returned. Her husband’s early death only added to her fear of abandonment. Irrfan was nineteen then, and as the oldest son, expected to look after his father’s tire shop. But his hopes had been stirred up watching leading men in Hindi matinees: a grandiose Dilip Kumar in Naya Daur, a raffish Mithun Chakraborty in Mrigayaa. Someone told Khan that he looked like Chakraborty: tall, dark, un-photogenic. He began to style his hair like the hero. After high school, he joined evening theatre classes in a local college and even witnessed a couple of Bollywood shoots in town. He wrote to the National School of Drama in New Delhi, bluffing in his application about plays he hadn’t acted in. They offered him a scholarship and Irrfan moved out of the house.

In Delhi, Khan nearly got his big break. The director Mira Nair had come to campus looking for actors to cast in her debut film, Salaam Bombay. One day, she noticed Khan in a classroom. “He wasn’t striving,” Nair later recalled watching him act. “His striving was invisible. He was in it.” She cast him in the main role and Khan went to Bombay in the middle of the semester to train with the crew. But after two months of rehearsals, Nair decided that Khan didn’t look the part. In the final film, Khan appears for a grand total of two minutes, as a letter writer who dupes the child protagonist. In life, however, it was Khan who might have felt deceived: he had travelled all the way to a new city, thinking he had bagged the role, only to end up on the train back to Delhi before the shoot. His first role, as he would say later, also “became my first setback.”

Nair took another twenty years to cast him again in The Namesake. That Khan would rough it out for so long should not come as a surprise, for actors remain dispensable in Bollywood, unless they become box office gold or belong to insider families. Squint at the backdrop of a scene in any Hindi film and you will spot a good actor—good, in spite of their measly roles. “Talent is insignificant,” James Baldwin once wrote. “I know a lot of talented ruins.” Thirty years ago in Bombay, around the production offices in the western precincts, you were likely to find just as many untalented plinths. There was the shirtless scion of a famous scriptwriter who showed off his abs in every other scene (and keeps doing so these days opposite women thirty years younger than him). There was the son of a powerful producer who became the country’s most bankable director by having his romantic leads tussle it out on a basketball court—then a rarity in India—and heralded the industry’s turn away from rural audiences to richer, albeit equally conservative, Indian expatriates. Then there was the middle-aged director who liked to appear in medias res in all his movies. He would pop up halfway through a song or a scene, staring at the camera from under a sun hat, just so you didn’t forget you were watching his film.

Khan tried his best to find an opening in this milieu. He was told, for instance, that the showman director in a sun hat had seen Khan act somewhere and was apparently considering him for a part. He spent the next few months waiting in vain for the director to call. Casting agents would glance at his portfolio and chide him for taking on diverse roles. He was told not to fiddle with his looks and angle for essentially the same character in every film. He survived those years doing television gigs, daytime soap operas where the action happened once in real time and then again—twice—in slo-mo, so that viewers could follow what was going on with their eyes closed. What was an actor’s actor doing in that world? Producers would tell Khan off on those sets for pausing between his lines. Cinematographers wanted him to look at the camera while talking.

He met Sikdar, a screenwriter, in drama school, and by the end of the millennium, they were married and had a son. Sikdar even brought him aboard a couple of shows where she was employed as a writer, but Khan didn’t land a leading role throughout the ’90s. One time he was so desperate for work that when someone pointed to a TV tower on a hill and joked that Khan might get a job there, he actually trekked up the mountain.

I know that tower on a hill: it was the landscape of my childhood. My mother worked as an engineer for India’s public broadcaster. Every few years she’d be transferred to a different TV station across the country, which meant that we had to move from one housing campus near a TV tower to another. At the same time Khan was struggling to find his bearings in soap operas, my mother was helping beam those episodes into homes week after week. Later, when he talked about these shows in interviews, I’d recognize their names, but have no memory of their protagonists or storylines, never mind any flashback of Khan stumbling through a scene. What I do remember is the tedium, the eternal blandness of those afternoons and evenings when a cricket game spread over five days would seem like the least onerous thing to watch. Cable channels had arrived some years ago with the opening up of the economy, but their content was still lacklustre: turgid comedies, lachrymose adaptations of Hindu myths, stale reruns of Santa Barbara and The Bold and the Beautiful. On weekdays, kids had just an hour of Disney cartoons—mostly DuckTales and TaleSpin—while on Saturdays, they could skip school to catch up with a preachy local superhero moonlighting as a buffoon in glasses.

Looking back on his lost decades, Khan felt that his biggest challenge was remaining interested in his craft: “I had to come up with ways to keep my inspiration going.” The first time he got paid for a role after moving to Bombay, he bought a VHS player, apparently to avoid getting “bored of my own profession.” The Indian viewer in those days was just as bored. I remember making do with little: listening to songs from forthcoming films, then watching the video sequences of the same songs on TV, so that by the time we caught the movie in a theatre, we’d get our money’s worth whistling and crooning when the songs came on.

The world opened up, at least for my generation, with the prevalence of CD and DVD burner drives on computers that freed us from the tyranny of television and the next Friday release. By the time I was eleven, I was hanging out at a friend’s house every afternoon just to copy out discs from his older brother’s collection of MP3s. Vendors on the street would sell bootlegged prints of everything from Rashomon to Home Alone to Deep Throat, and soon enough, grainy camera recordings of the newest movie in theatres, for the exact price of a balcony seat.

I remember watching a pirated print of The Warrior, the film Khan credits with reviving his career. The scenes were gorgeously rendered: Khan, long-haired and lanky, brandishing a sword in a forlorn expanse of sun and sand. Then later, with his hair cut, looking both lost and determined as he treks his way through cascading woods in the Himalayan hills. Khan didn’t need to puff up his arms or chest to play the part of an enforcer to a medieval warlord. His eyes gleam with menace when he goes plundering across villages on horseback, and afterwards with trauma, when he is forced to watch his little son being executed in an open field. Silences suffice in this world of mythical beauty and carnage. Feelings are conveyed with the slightest of frowns and hand movements; everyone speaks in hushed tones despite the bloodshed.

When the director Asif Kapadia—who later made the Oscar-winning documentary Amy on the singer Amy Winehouse—first auditioned Khan, he thought he looked like “someone who’s killed a lot of people, but feels really bad about it.” Kapadia had discerned something essential about Khan’s appearance in any movie: the story of a film often played out on his face.

The Warrior was never released in Indian theatres. (US rights were bought by Miramax, where it became another film that Harvey Weinstein shelved for years.) But a couple of new directors noted Khan’s ability to evoke menace and cast him in two films that gave him a footing in Bombay: Haasil and Maqbool. His characters in both films have killed a lot of people, but it is in Maqbool, where he plays the lead again, that you get to see how he feels about it. There is a moment when Maqbool is staring at the corpse of his best friend, having himself ordered the hit, and he imagines that the dead man has opened his eyes again. Maqbool falls tumbling backward in shock. Apparently on set, Khan was so persuasive while doing the scene that his co-actor Naseeruddin Shah thought he had really lost his balance and held out his arms to support him. Shah had been one of Khan’s idols in drama school, and there he was, taken in by the latter’s performance. “You’re bloody good,” he told Khan.

By the time I saw a pirated print of The Warrior, Khan had impressed many others with his breakout roles. He stood out in The Namesake as the withdrawn father. Wes Anderson wrote a part in The Darjeeling Limited just for him. He was cast as a cop in both A Mighty Heart and Slumdog Millionaire. In India, Life in a Metro showed that Khan need not always play the brooding murderer. He even appeared in a TV ad that became very popular because of its setup: sixty seconds of Khan just impishly chatting up the viewer from a screen.

Those were indulgent days. Bollywood was finally catering to the country’s craving for realism. Filmmakers could hope to break even by releasing a movie only to select audiences in cities, which meant that they could steer clear of big studios and song-and-dance routines, and instead cast new actors as leads.

In Bombay, a decade ago, I often had the sensation that we were making up for lost time: all those hours squandered in childhood when we were deprived of things to watch. I lived at the YMCA with a roommate who was glued to his laptop all day and night, watching something or the other. D. had a couple of 500 GB hard drives, stacked with torrent downloads of the latest Japanese anime series, episodes of every American TV show aired in the last thirty years, and an unbelievable archive of international movies grouped in alphabetical order by their directors’ last names. He would be at his desk early mornings, sipping tea, his eyes blazing red from the memory of the show or movies he had stayed up all night to watch. On weekends he’d head out to a friend’s place in the suburbs, to replenish his stock of content. The diligence with which he’d finish a series in the span of a day, or go looking for a director’s deep cut: I never thought of him as a passive binger. To D., watching was work.

Khan, too, was putting in the work. In Bollywood, this often involved playing to the gallery, for as he once admitted in an interview, “You don’t need nuance here as an actor. Attitude is enough.” He disliked repeating himself. If he was asked to do eight takes for a scene, he’d do them in eight different ways, letting the director figure out the rest. Even with subtler roles, Khan didn’t believe that an actor could always become the character and trusted his imagination more than research. Before playing an Indian-American man in The Namesake, for instance, Khan had never travelled to the US. He understood that getting the clothes and the accent right could go only so far in conveying the inward rift of an immigrant. He fell back on his memory, recalling a previous trip to Canada where he had noticed some dour-looking immigrant workers in shops. “Something stayed in my mind,” he told TIME magazine in 2010. “A strange sadness…A rhythm that middle-aged people have.” In The Warrior, he didn’t quite believe the scene where his character watches his son being killed. He approached the moment by telling himself that the experience of shooting a film was like life, and “sometimes you have to live a life because you have no choice.” My favourite Khan anecdote is from the set of 7 Khoon Maaf, where he was cast as the third of the seven husbands of the protagonist Susanna, played by Priyanka Chopra. Khan couldn’t relate to his role: a “wife beater” Urdu poet. The poet was just supposed to be persistent with his abuse, so that the audience could empathize with Susanna when she killed him. While getting ready for his scenes, Khan happened to be listening to a random ghazal by the singer Abida Parveen. “All of a sudden,” he told Kapadia later, “that ghazal created a whole world around me.” The song helped him delve into the inner life of the poet, find a pattern to his behaviour. He was able to transform himself within moments.

On talk shows, Khan would often recount the story of inviting his mother to the premiere of The Namesake in Bombay. After the screening, she apparently asked Khan to introduce her to the director, Mira Nair. “Let me talk to her,” his mother told him. “I want to ask her why, of all the people in the world, she had my son killed off in the film?” His mother was joking, of course, but something about the recurring deaths of his characters can seem, at first glance, manipulative. The scripts that came his way seemed to repeatedly indulge the fantasy of his eventual disappearance. But death is also the script everyone wants to perfect: it is the endpoint of “striving”—the word Nair used to contrast the experience of watching Khan act in drama school—and if you dig deep into many of Khan’s roles, you’ll find a striver, a man relentlessly searching for something. Whether he is projecting nonchalance (Maqbool), pain (The Warrior), or disdain (Slumdog Millionaire), signs of hustling are always evident. In Life in a Metro, Monty is even striving to find a wife. Towards the end of the film, Monty encourages Shruti to move on from her bad relationships and try dating someone new. “Take your chance, baby,” he tells her. You almost feel that it is Khan talking, counselling the viewer to keep looking for all there is to find.

What was Khan really striving toward? He seldom gave any straight answers. In public he offered zen disquisitions about the mystery of life. Hours after his death, a scene from Life of Pi, in which he delivers a heartfelt monologue about “letting go,” went viral. He went back and forth on his name, adding an extra r to “Irfan,” dropping the “Khan” because “I should be known for what I do, not for my background or caste or religion.” In Bombay, he refused the trappings of a star despite his American fame. He lived on Madh Island, a ferry ride away from the studio lots and the inland neighbourhoods where celebrities usually splurged on landmark mansions and apartments. The distance was partly self-imposed: he never got over his disdain for messianic Bollywood heroes. For all his cameo parts in franchise movies abroad, Khan first tasted blockbuster success in India with Hindi Medium, which was released just three years before his death. He didn’t seem to mind being typecast in big Hollywood projects, turning up invariably as the “international man.” But he turned down roles in The Martian and Interstellar when their production dates clashed with smaller projects. And there was that unforgettable photograph of him looking sullen when Slumdog Millionaire won Best Picture at the Oscars, while the rest of the crew are smiling and exulting around him.

Both In Treatment and The Lunchbox make good use of this enigma: the way Khan couldn’t help but look slightly disaffected everywhere. “He’s got the loneliest face I’ve ever seen,” Paul, a therapist played by Gabriel Byrne, says of Khan’s character, Sunil, in one episode of In Treatment. And indeed, Sunil is alone, even though he lives in Brooklyn with Arun and Julia, his son and daughter-in-law, six months after his wife passed away in Calcutta. Every few episodes, Sunil sits in Paul’s office and grudgingly reveals his woes—how his wife had in her last moments made sure that Sunil would move in with their son overseas, how he can’t stand the fact that Julia gives him a weekly allowance and monitors his time with the grandkids, how she goes around calling his son Aaron, how he is absolutely certain that she is having an affair. There is something bleak about Sunil’s obsession with Julia: his eyes visibly light up when he describes the way she talks, the visions he has of “smothering” her when he hears her laugh. The showrunners keep circling back to the creepiness of Sunil’s fixation, but they miss the fact that this revulsion gives him a reason to wake up every morning in a new country. Just for a while, he can forget that his wife of thirty years has died. The deeper rift is between Sunil and Arun; Julia is just a proxy for the repressed feelings. The son has travelled too far, too soon, and the father can’t keep up.

The distance between Sunil and Arun is precisely the one Khan covered in his lifetime: from Jaipur to Jurassic Park; from the rooftop of an office building in Bombay to a therapist’s couch in New York; from playing a melancholy gangster in Maqbool to swishing in and out of boardrooms as Simon Masrani in Jurassic World. Together his roles encompass the story of South Asian globalization in the last three decades: these are men whose lives look nothing like their fathers’. For all their striving and ambition, their private lives are stunted. They don’t quite know how to be well-rounded in a rapidly changing world. The journalist Aseem Chhabra writes in his book, Irrfan Khan: The Man, The Dreamer, The Star that Khan was squeamish about doing sex scenes. Perhaps this is why so many of his characters are literally learning to love. In Paan Singh Tomar, he has to teach his wife how to kiss. In Road to Ladakh, where he plays a fugitive on the run, a lover must demonstrate the correct way to lock lips. “I don’t suppose you watch too many movies,” she teases him in bed. “We watch movies to learn these things.”

In The Lunchbox, Saajan Fernandes neither cooks nor watches movies. He is a widower, with no children, no friends. He plans to retire from his job soon and move out of Bombay. Years ago, when his wife was alive, she used to record her favourite TV sitcoms on tapes, so that she could return to them on weekends and laugh at the same jokes again. Now he stays up at night watching those old tapes, smoking on his porch, counting the hours until morning when he can go back to work. (Saajan is what Monty in Life in a Metro might have become if he had never met Shruti. Sunil, from In Treatment, can also look forward to a similar existence once he is deported back to India.) After a lunch delivery service misplaces their orders, Saajan starts exchanging letters with a youngish housewife, Ila. He tells her about his past, how he keeps forgetting things because he has “no one to tell them to”; she shares her darkest impulses of sometimes wanting to jump from her apartment window upstairs. They decide to meet and run away together to Bhutan. They arrive at the same café for their first date, and he sees her waiting alone at a table. But he can’t bring himself to walk up to her and reveal his face. He sits at another table and watches her scanning the door for his arrival. He fears that he is too old for romance.

Saajan may have missed his chance with Ila, but Khan’s performance in the movie was universally acclaimed. The Lunchbox won an important award at Cannes. Sony Pictures Classics picked it up for distribution in the US where it did good business during Oscar week. The reviews in the American press were all so gushing that I couldn’t help but slightly wonder about the applause. Why were people in New York and Los Angeles connecting so much to this portrait of a loneliness I associated with Bombay? After all, not too long ago, Slumdog Millionaire, a lacklustre musical even by Bollywood’s standards, had been championed at the Academy Awards. But my doubts mostly stemmed from an immigrant’s anxiety about their new home, for by then I was a graduate student in the Midwest. From the moment I first landed at O’Hare Airport, I was conscious of being mistaken for someone else, someone who fitted a perceived notion of being Indian. “Creative writing, really?” The immigration officer who stamped my passport did a double take while scanning my I-20 form, no doubt more accustomed to incoming Indian students enrolled in engineering and life sciences courses. My landlord in Iowa City picked me up from the nearby airport and seemed surprised that I spoke “good English.”

It was in Iowa City that I first saw The Lunchbox, in a narrow one-room theatre at the Ped Mall. Richard Linklater’s Boyhood had been screened earlier in the afternoon, and a section of the audience, which included an author who was among the faculty at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, had stayed back to catch the evening show of an Indian film. After the screening, the author and his wife waved me over to their seats. We fell into the usual post-show chatter about the film. “Watching it I felt so hungry, you know,” the author said, “The food! The spices!” He turned to his wife. “Honey, do you mind eating out tonight?”

Where I had glimpsed something ineffable—two lonely people in a city—he had spotted something expedient: his dinner plans. And indeed, later that night, when I passed by the only South Asian restaurant downtown, he was seated at a table by the window, stuffing his face with a naan. When I watched the movie again, I realized there were barely any close-up shots of the spices or the food: mostly you saw Ila filling up the containers of the lunchbox in the mornings and Saajan licking his fingers clean at lunch. I guess, for the author, the spices were a part of what was clearly an Indian night.

“You look like the guy from Life of Pi.” I heard this often enough in Iowa City to know that it wasn’t just an old white man thing. Baby-faced theatre majors part-timing as baristas in cafés, international writers staying over on a residency during the fall: they’d all recall the last time they had seen an Indian on screen, moments after meeting me, and offer what they no doubt thought was a compliment. The child in me wished that they were talking about Khan, though they probably meant I reminded them of Suraj Sharma, who plays the half-naked kid stranded in the middle of the ocean for much of the film. I looked nothing like Sharma, but did feel some affinity for Pi during the shipwreck. Before boarding, the boy had watched his father’s zoo being loaded on the docks, all those animals that they hoped to carry over into their new lives.

I missed Bombay, and worried about forgetting the place during my time away. In the stories I wrote during those years, I was recreating the city in my head, street by street. To workshop those stories in the Midwest was to receive an education in distance: I grew aware of the difficulty of things travelling through intact, the quixotic task of carrying over one’s past. There was the time twelve graduate students sparred in a room for over two hours on whether my characters should be talking to one another in Hindi. Or the afternoon I lost my patience when someone suggested that a story by another writer about an Indian family in Alaska could be improved if the children ate more curry. Each morning I might return on the page to the roads and promenades I had moved through for years, but the American reader would be stuck wondering—this was a verbatim comment I received on one of my stories—if “the city of Mumbai allowed double parking.” I thought of Khan buying a VHS player decades ago, to keep up with actors abroad, or my friend D. staying up all night and watching movies in Bombay, to keep up with the world. We might spend our lives back home bridging the gap with the West. But not many here were keeping up with us.

The years just prior to Khan’s cancer diagnosis were his busiest. According to Chhabra, Khan acted in sixteen projects between 2015 and 2018. He turned producer with Madaari, a jingoistic thriller where he positioned himself as a man taking on a nexus between politicians and businessmen. In Haider, an adaptation of Hamlet set in Kashmir, he embodied the part of the ghost, apprising the protagonist of his uncle’s betrayal. Judging from his roles in films like Piku, Hindi Medium and Angrezi Medium, he was branching out in this period as a comic hero. The loneliness was again evident: his droll characters don’t come across as clowns so much as men cracking jokes to fill up an awkward silence.

Awkward silences were becoming a norm in Bollywood as India was succumbing to Hindu nationalism under a new leader. The country’s biggest actors and directors held their peace when more and more films began to be censored after Narendra Modi became prime minister in 2014; they refrained from commenting when mobs of armed policemen stormed university campuses, when Muslims were stripped of their citizenship and lynched on streets; they chose to appear in group selfies with Modi and call him a “saint,” even as multiple dissenting activists ended up in prison without a trial or, worse, dead. They didn’t even speak up when a young male actor died of suicide in 2020, and his girlfriend, also an actor, found herself being vilified night after night on partisan TV news channels. One woman took the fall in a media trial fueled by wild insinuations and blinkered opinions. She was blamed for swindling her boyfriend’s finances and accused of practicing “black magic.” In the end she was arrested, allegedly for buying him marijuana, weeks before a crucial election in the deceased actor’s home state.

I watched this tragedy unfold month after month back in the country where I was less likely to be confused for someone else. To assert that a place has changed in your absence is perhaps the oldest truism in the world, but the vitriolic mood of the Modi years is undeniable. In newspapers you read every day of someone being arrested or beaten up or killed because they hurt “Hindu sentiments”: victims of hate crimes get treated as accomplices. Cities like Delhi and Bombay are now unrecognizable. Those old buildings and seafronts where Khan’s characters had once reflected on their misspent lives are being razed as colonial hangovers. If you stare into the horizon, you won’t see the TV towers of my childhood. Everywhere you look, the skyline is obscured by creepy portraits of Modi. The values of this new India—violence, patriarchy, resentment, a paranoiac fear of others, a toxic mix of capitalism and religious conservatism—are exactly the ones promoted by devotionals and revenge sagas from the ’80s and ’90s, the movies that Khan had once found himself shut out of. And if the influence of some old box office heroes has waned, it is partly because Modi has annexed their passionate cults of personality. Years ago, I’d wonder at the crowds waiting outside actors’ houses in Bombay, people who had travelled hundreds of miles away from their homes just to catch a fleeting glimpse of their idols. Now I recognize the same loud fervour in Hindu men who swear they’ll always vote for Modi.

After Khan died, it struck me that his last two films—Doob and Angrezi Medium—were going against the grain of patriarchal South Asian expectations: those oppressive social mores, reinforced by celluloid, that allow parents to dictate to their adult children who they can marry and what they can eat. (I still wince at the coercive tagline of a blockbuster movie from the 2000s: “It’s all about loving your parents.”) In both films, Khan plays a flawed father who is refreshingly worried about the ways in which he might be failing his children, how he might have scarred them with his choices. For a change, we see protagonists striving to be helpful to the generation after them, endeavoring to be more empathetic parents. There is a terrific scene in Doob where Javed, a troubled filmmaker, realizes that his teenage son is being bullied in school after the parents’ divorce. He tells his son to make him out to be a bad father, but the son knows better: he knows that his parents were stuck in a miserable marriage.

Angrezi Medium is not as nuanced, but the bond between generations again seems compassionate. Khan’s character is a single father to a girl who seems to be reprising Khan’s own childhood in a sleepy Indian town. She, too, has dreams of seeing the world, and her artless father and his friends struggle to get her admitted to a college in London. They beg, borrow and steal, until the daughter realizes that she doesn’t need to empty her father’s savings for a degree abroad. When she tells him she’d rather study in India, you’d think any father would hug his child in that moment, but no, Khan just smiles and leans out of the window of the cab they are travelling in. He glances away, holding it all in, looking happy for once.

#irrfan khan

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masterhandss · 3 years

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Hi, im just finishing vol 1of hamefura LN and... am I reading wrong or Katarina has considerably internalized homophobia? She describes keith falling for Nicol as a tragedy and going astray, and her view of girlfriendship.... does this continues in future novels?

Uggh that's kinda hard to say, and I feel like I might not be the right person to ask about something like that hgjsdf

I don't remember Katarina saying that Keith hypothetically falling in love with be a "tragedy", did she use that word? The only thing I remember is that she said that although she'd prefer it if it Keith didn't fall for Maria, falling for Nicol might be dangerous for him. When I read it, I guess I kinda did get the idea of Katarina thinking that marriage between two men must be taboo, but not necessarily that she disapproves of it. Since she knows she's in Fortune Lover, she's assuming that same sex is the norm given the game, setting and time period. I feel like she meant it with good intent, for all she knows maybe Keith would get kicked out of the family is he pursued the son of the prime minister instead of focusing on becoming the next duke qwq.

Also, Katarina mentioned that it'd be bad for Keith to fall for a handsome boy, but when she assumed that Nicol might be in love with a married woman or man during her birthday party, she didn't seem to reject the idea (I guess because it's Nicol, charmer of both genders lmao), moreso just worried if her friend's feelings will ever bear fruit if its someone he felt like he couldn't attain. Maybe she was only open to the idea because it's Nicol, or maybe she's actually okay with it in general, who knows?

I think Katarina just has a heteronormative way of thinking rather than her having internalized homophobia (unless the two of those are the same?? I don't know I'm not socially aware enough for this qwq).

I've heard things about Japan is a country that's still sort of behind the times, still using old technology and is still pretty heteronormative to some extent. I doubt she had any opportunities to identify her sexuality or the kind of partner she wants when she's just living her life to the fullest and having fun. She didn't even get into anime and manga until middle school, only thanks to Aachan's influence.

From Volume 2, we find out that Aachan's taste in light novels and manga is the kind where she can project herself onto the protagonist in order to imagine herself having fun adventures with friends of her own, so probably a lot of shoujo or shounen series. Plus by high school, Aachan was really into otome games. I'm basically saying that not even media could have influenced Katarina's way of thinking, considering that Aachan (who is the one to provide and suggest the series they get into) seems to just only read NL content. Katarina knows Sophia reads BL novels when they both got older, but mentioned while she isn't completely disinterested in them, she feels like it's a dangerous rabbit hole to fall into. She was even a little bit transphobic to her co-worker in the magic ministry Laura (who is a transwoman) but not because she didn't approve of it, it was just kinda new to her because she didn't encounter things and people like that in her previous life.

We can only really grow to accept and understand feelings and perspectives like that by getting exposed to it, so you can't blame Katarina for being mostly heteronormative when she's never encountered stuff like that before.

I don't know, I feel like a lot of people in their youth these days are really able to identify or have courage to bring themselves out there thanks to the encouragement of the people around us and the influence of the media we consume. If Katarina doesn't have those media to help her, then she'll have to rely on her own self-discovery and the encouragement of her peers.

When it comes to her views on girlfriend-ship, we already know that Katarina adores and loves her friends regardless of gender (Maria being the biggest example), and whether or not she's just extreme in her appreciation of others or if it's a sign of her attraction to girls depends on the reader. Her worldview probably won't change unless her female friends finally become forward about their feelings instead of waiting for Katarina to figure it out on her own, if we get a clear stance on Sorcier's view of same sex marriage and relationships, or if we see a same sex couple in the story through Katarina's eyes. As the reader, we know/can speculate that Katarina likes both men and women, but she herself doesn't know that yet.

Since she's someone living in a Fantastical Middle Ages where the country is lead by a monarch, you gotta give her some slack for not assuming everything gets an OK in this new life & setting of hers.

Whether or not this is something that continues in future novels is something I can't really say. She maintains the same way of thinking that she does right now in the manga and anime as she does in the novels, nothing really changed aside from the fact that maybe she had picked up one or two tame BL novels due to being forced to by Sophia.

Again, I'm probably not the right person to ask when it comes to something like this. If I said anything wrong or insensitive, feel free to correct me! I'm not socially competent nor analytical enough to dig deep into Katarina's psyche qwq

Thank you for the ask! qwq

#mh ask #hamefura #my next life as a villainess #hamehura #bakarina #destruction flag otome #katarina claes #sasaki atsuko #atsuko sasaki #if i trigger anyone with this I'M REALLY SORRY

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

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Okay so I don't know if you've caught this yet, but you mentioned the Denalis in an older post and it seemed like you thought Carlisle introduced them all to the diet? But in The Guide it said that Tanya discovered the diet on her own by starving herself like Carlisle did, and then introduced the diet to her sisters and later Eleazar and Carmen. I can't find WHEN she did this, but since Tanya is more than 2X Carlisle's age, wouldn't that probably make her the original "vegetarian" vampire?

You're right anon.

So, I had not seen the guide when I made my original offhand mention (I'd seen bits and pieces floating around), and had mistakenly thought Carlisle introduced them to the diet (I forget what post I even mention this in).

Later I found out the Denali sisters did discover the diet on their own, specifically Tanya is the one who has a very similar deer epiphany to Carlisle, and by the time Carlisle meets them (with other Cullens in tow) they're said to be as good at control as he is.

Carlisle says "Praise"! After three hundred years, he finally proves Aro wrong and finds other people who follow the diet without his help.

As for when they started this, let's break it down.

This is what the guide has to say on the matter:

After a while, Irina and her sisters began to feel remorse; they were genuinely fond of many of the men they formed brief relationships with and regretted their deaths, though those deaths seemed inevitable. They tried to pursue such relationships without killing the man involved, but eventually they would make a mistake and he would die.

The regret and guilt became too difficult to bear. For a long while, the sisters avoided human men completely—except as meals—but found this lonely. Tanya began to wonder if she could train herself to resist human blood altogether, and thereby make it possible to have human friends without killing them.

While testing her ability to go without drinking any blood, Tanya had a similar experience to Carlisle’s; animal blood suddenly began to smell better than nothing at all. Tanya experimented with living on animal blood and came to the conclusion that abstaining did make it easier to be around humans.

Irina and Kate were excited by this breakthrough and joined their sister in her experiment. After a few decades, all three sisters grew adept at this new diet, and at enjoying intimacy with humans without injury.

Over a century later, a nomad couple named Eleazar and Carmen crossed paths with Irina and her sisters.

By the time the Denali clan encountered Carlisle, they were all as good at vampire “vegetarianism” as he was. They quickly bonded with the Cullens over their shared lifestyle, and considered one another extended family from that time forward.

So, what does this tell us?

One, Sasha, the Denali's creator, has already been executed. As it is, the Denali sisters likely weren't having sex with men during that time period, as it's likely something Sasha would frown upon.

This puts a hard limit on when Tanya has her epiphany. It is not before Sasha's execution, I'd give a date but we don't get one.

Point being, it's not on the early end of Tanya's life.

It's then implied there's a very long period in which the sisters first start experimenting having sex with human men, then a period in which they happily have sex with human men and eat them afterward, then a period where they have sex with human men then try and fail not to eat them, and then a period where they abstained from having sex with human men because eating their lovers was just depressing.

More to the point we're told Sasha has her epiphany then, over a century later, Eleazar and Carmen show up.

This is "over a century", not "centuries", which puts us probably in the 100-200 year range.

Eleazar and Carmen were born in the 18th century, with Eleazar leaving Volterra after Carlisle left, Carlisle leaving at the latest in 1729.

So the earliest Eleazar leaves Italy is 1730. It likely takes him and Carmen some time to come across the Denali sisters as they did so by happenstance.

This means that Tanya actually likely has her opinion either around when Carlisle does (1640) give or take a few decades in either direction.

At this point we're nitpicking decades with very general dates so I think we can safely put Tanya's epiphany in the 17th century. The point being, despite being two times older than Carlisle, she's not necessarily the first by a landslide.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #the denali #tanya #carlisle cullen #the cullens #meta #headcanon #opinion #correction

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linkspooky · 4 years

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Frankenstein and the Monster

So there is loads of speculation on a connection between Dabi and Frankenstein’s monster. There are several people who have already commented on it, here, here, and even here. (These are all the ones I could dig up recently). Frankenstein is a novel that can be read in many ways, but I believe the themes of the novel parallels and helps illustrate the relationship between Ujiko, Endeavor and Dabi.

1. Endeavor and Victor Frankenstein

To very briefly touch upon the novel for those who haven’t read it, there are several differences between Boris Karloff’s movie depiction and the original novel. In the novel the creature is intelligent, well spoken, and a reflection of the Doctor Frankenstein himself. To summarize quickly, Frankenstein a very dramatic undergrad student discovers the secret to reviving the dead, uses that to create a monster, then upon seeing how ugly it is flees. The monster grows up in isolation, is spurned by every human he comes across, and then returns to his master and says he will kill everyone the Doctor Loves unless he creates him a mate. Frankenstein destroys the mate, and then the monster destroys his wife to be on the night of their wedding then they chase each other around in the arctic until both of them die. If that wasn’t a sufficient enough summary, this crash course video is a good writeup of the book and it’s themes.

Frankenstein has a lot to say about science and treading in god’s domain, but it’s also written by a woman who was a teenager at the time (Mary Shelley) who existed in a soical circle of adult men who were much older than her. Just as much as it’s a novel about mad science gone wrong, there are strong themes of feminism, parenthood, and abuse intertwined in the novel.

Another popular reading is to interpret “Frankenstein” autobigraophically, a reading that was encouraged via 1970s feminist criticism of the novel. Earlier readings along those lines centered Frankenstein as a tale of monstrous birth and look to Mary Shelley’s own experiences with birth, which were pretty terrible.

Mary Shelley’s mother died when giving birth to her, and Mary and Shelley’s own first child, a daughter, died when she was just a few weeks old. And in her journal Mary recounted an incredibly sad dream about this daughter. “Dream that my little baby came to life again; that it had only been cold and that we rubbed it before the fire and lived.” [Crash Course: Frankenstein]

This is just some background information to add context to your reading. Percey Shelley first met Mary when she was 14, and eloped with her when she was 16 and already pregnant with his child (he was around 24 at the time). Not only that but Percey was married at the time when he eloped with Mary, and his wirst wife did not take it well.

Harriet (Westbrook) Shelley was Percy Shelley's first wife. While he was still married to her, he ran off with Mary Shelley, leaving Harriet pregnant and alone with their first child. She committed suicide on November 9, 1816 by drowning herself in Serpentine. [x]

As I said these details are all to add context to Mary Shelley’s life while she was writing Frankenstein. A book in which most of the female characters are severely mistreated and harmed.

There are some pretty feminist critiques to Frankenstein. For instance, the novel clearly shows what harm comes to women (and family and relationships) when men pursue single-minded goals. In fact thanks to Victor’s lack of work life balance pretty much all of the women in this novel die. Victor’s creation of the monster leads to the hanging of the servant Justine the murder of Victor’s bride Elizabeth on their wedding night. [Crash Course: Frankenstein]

To put it as frankly as possible (Haha, get it because frankenstein) there are several points in the novel in which both Victor and Frankenstein act like fuckboys.

You could easily read the story as one of male entitlement. Victor in the first place, deliberately refers to his bride to be Elizabeth as a possession and says it as a term of affection.

And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each other familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could body forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me—my more than sister, since till death she was to be mine only.

His actions towards Elizabeth in the novel are also, extremely neglectful. Elizabeth spends the novel passively waiting for him to return and marry her, but Victor has a habit of disappearing from her life for long periods at a time with no contact at all in pursuit of his endeavors. (Get it because I’m comparing Victor to Endeavor).

Elizabeth is someone he feels entitled to own, and entitled to her love (he literally thinks his parents gave him to her) and yet Victor never takes responsibility for Elizabeth and her feelings too wrapped up in his own. When Elizabeth is grieving for the losses of her family, Victor has a tendency to leave her alone to go off to sulk on his own. Elizabeth even pleads multiple times for Victor to come home, to offer some support for the rest of the family with his mere presence and Victor delays these returns home as long as possible.

“Get well—and return to us. You will find a happy, cheerful home and friends who love you dearly. Your father’s health is vigorous, and he asks but to see you, but to be assured that you are well; and not a care will ever cloud his benevolent countenance.

This treatment also extends to the rest of Victor’s family, who are people he seriously neglects throughout the novel, and also people who are the direct sufferers of the consequences of his actions. His youngest brother is killed, the maid is framed for the murder, Elizabeth dies on the wedding night, Clerval his closest friend is killed, and his father dies soon afterwards of old age / implied grief.

The monster who Victor creates is also a reflection of him. After knowing the suffering it is to be created as a creature with no family, and no place of belonging he then instructs Victor to make him a woman. A woman that will have no choice but to love him because they will be the only two alone in the world. The monster, also feels entitled to feminine love because he is lonely, with no thought to whether or not the second monster might have feelings, opinions or her own, or might not even like him.

“You must create a female for me, with whom I can live in the interchange of those sympathies necessary for my being. This you alone can do; and I demand it of you as a right which you must not refuse.”

The recurring theme is this: a sense of male entitlement, without a sense of responsibility. What do I mean by Male Entitlement?

Male entitlement is a product of traditional societal norms. It is cultivated in men as they join a society which usually favors them over the other genders in their careers, relationships, character-standing, and more. There’s more on it here, and the role of male entitlement in abuse.

Male entitlement is an attitude where men believe they are entitled to power over others, and/ or ownership of the women and children in their lives. Victor calls Elizabeth a possession given to him, and neglects her throughout most of the book. The monster believes he deserves to have a woman to love him. It’s not masculinity. Masculinity is just masculinity. It’s the belief that they are entitled to power or ownership over others simply because they are men born in a society that favors men. Male entitlement can show up in say, a father who believes he is entitled to the love of his children despite never doing any of the actual work of childrearing and pushing it all on the mother. Believing they deserved to be loved simply for being a father, while being absolutely absent for their lives. GUESS WHAT HAPPENS IN FRANKENSTEIN.

So, a lot of people interpret Frankenstein as a story of ambition gone wrong, but that interpretation feels like it’s missing something if you don’t include the feminist angle. Frankenstein when doing his mad scientist undergrad bit speculates how he would be a father of a new species. It is specifically, fatherhood accomplished without a mother. That this new species would owe him love.

A new species would bless me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me.

An undeniable part of Victor’s motivation is that as the sole creator the child would owe him all of their love. I mean to once again connect this to abuse narratives how many real life parents believe their children have to love them no matter how poorly they treat them?

No father could claim the gratitude of his child so completely as I should deserve theirs.

Victor in the novel wants not only fatherhood, but also motherhood. He wants to create life which in victorian society at the time is the role of the woman. And yet at the same time, he doesn’t want to do any of the actual work of motherhood and the roles typically described to women.

We can read the novel as an exploration of what happens when men fear, distrust, or devalue women so much that they attempt to reeproduce without them. In some ways Victor is trying to bypass the feminine altogether. He’s creating life without recourse to egg or womb. [Crash Course: Frankenstein]

Victor creates, and then proceeds to take no responsibility for his creation. He abandons the child for the most shallow of reasons (because it was ugly and looked scary), then leaves a sentient, thinking creature with no idea who it was, or why it was alive in the middle of the mountains hoping it starves to death on his own so he doesn’t have to deal with it.

but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart. Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I rushed out of the room and continued a long time traversing my bed-chamber.

Victor is the creatures parent, but takes no responsibility as a parent for raising the creature. In fact the child is punished when they are still an innocent, just for not turning out the way their creator intended.

Frankenstein is a novel which portrays consistently men who aspire to greatness as described in their society (scientific invention, and in the framing device arctic exploration) but who consistently fail everyone in their lives at the most basic levels. In other words as Lizzo said, “Why men great, till they gotta be great.”

This is where the fire comes in. The original post talks about dichotomy of fire as something that both helps and harms. Fire is a symbol in this book that can be read two different ways, and I think special context should be given to the subtitle of the story. “The Modern Prometheus”, a story which in classical times is a story of hubris where Prometheus steals fire from the heavens and is punished for it. Hubris in the classical greek sense means that a human acting like they know better than the gods. However, the story has a different interpretation in the Romantic / Enlightenment era where Prometheus is seen as a heroic figure stealing fire away from the gods to give knowledge to mankind.

Fire in the book represents both. Victor is someone who has hubris, he assumes he’s a father who deserves the love of a child and sole responsbility for the creation of another being (effectively making him god), but abandons the creature literally five minutes after finishing him and makes no real attempt to take any effort in raising what is effectively his child. It’s also a story about Victor having ambitions to be great, and to do what no man has done before him. I don’t think the story emphasizes that ambitions are bad, but rather the dual nature of ambition as something like fire, something that can either warm or harm.

He came upon a fire “which had been left” by humans (Vol. II, Ch. III), so a human tool left in nature. He was “overcome with delight” and joy, but touching it brought him pain. “How strange, [he thinks], that the same cause could produce such opposite effects!” He has learned the dichotomy of flame – to save and to hurt. [x]

Okay, now that we’re done witht hat extremely long essay on an english novel let’s actually talk about the manga where a goth stuck in his rebellious teenage phase tries to light his dad on fire.

I’m going to be comparing the novel to Dabi and Endeavor in two aspects.

Male entitlement, believing you deserve the love of a child without acting responsibly as a father.

Fire, ambition as something that both helps and burns.

Victor and Endeavor both are characters that decide to create children for very self serving reasons, and treat their families for the majority of their lives as tools to their own ambition. Endeavor wants a child that will carry out his ambitions for him, that he can live vicariously through. It’s not even an interpretation it’s directly stated text.

Endeavor’s mad science also literally has him treat the woman in his life as tools to use for his own amibition. He fores a marriage on a woman to use her as an unwilling accessory to his eugenics project.

It is not specifically a story of ambition got wrong, it’s also a story of neglect and abuse of all the women in his life. Endeavor’s ambitions all center around personal greatness for him. Shoto will prove his worth as a hero, as a mentor to him, as a great father. The fact that his motives are entirely selfish, (Endeavor is not focused on being the best hero he can be, but rather his own desire to be the strongest) is something that has an affect on his family and children.

Fuyumi, Touya, and Natsuo are literally afterthoughts to Endeavor despite being just as much his children as Shoto. He literally only thinks of Rei in the context of “I needed her to give me a family.” Not only that but he’s also an extremely bad father to the one child that he does take an active role in trying to parent, acting extremely controlling towards Shoto and getting extremely angry whenever Shoto did anything that was outside of Endeavor’s wishes for Shoto to fulfill his ambitions.

Endeavor just like Victor, inspires to greatness as a man and wants the signifiers of that as held up by society, accomplishment (Endeavor wants to be the number one rank even though he technically has far more resolved cases than All Might and the rank is literally just a number), family, and recognition despite having done none of the work. Once again why men great till they gotta be great. At the start of his arc, Endeavor feels entitled to Shoto’s love and obedience, and a role in his life, despite the fact that he’s hideously abused him for most of his life.

Endeavor like Victor, also abandons several children for failing to meet his expectations.

Part of Natsuo’s problem with Endeavor has exactly to do this sense of entitlement, Endeavor practically abandons his kids until they’re in their early twenties to the point where he wasn’t involved in their lives at all (and also separated them from their mother). Remember another point of the book is that Victor wants sole parenthood, to create life without involvement of a woman.

Endeavor does the exact same thing. He separates the children from their mother. Then while he is the only parent left in the household and effectively responsible for all of his children, he neglects most of them and completely fails to raise them.

It’s implied besides trying to teach Shoto to use his quirk, he’s literally pushed all of the housework, and actual parenting you know, labor that is involved in raising a child onto Fuyumi. Fuyumi has cooked most of Shoto’s meals, it’s Fuyumi who attends his school conference in the novels. Endeavor has effectively committed the same crime as Victor, creating life and then running away from it by failing to act in any way as the father to his own children. His sense of entitlement shows in his actions and the way he treats the people around him in his life, he uses them for his own ambitions and they get burned.

Endeavor is someone who has used all of the women in his life for his ambitions. Think Fuyumi, she grew up desperately wanting a family while having effectively no father and all contact cut off from her mother, and also had to take care of household chores and responsibility for both of her younger brothers. Think Rei, who has literally been institutionalized for ten years, and trauma from her experiences that haunts her to this day. Natsuo is someone who has no father, almost no relationship with his younger brother, and is still mourning his other dead brother. Shoto evens tates directly, he views Endeavor as someone to learn how to use his quirk from but hasn’t viewed him once as a father. Endeavor’s never been present as a father in Shoto’s life, despite controlling most of it and giving him all of the attention. He had ambition to pass his quirk from father to son, but never actually acted as a father.

Endeavor’s treatment of his family, and his reflection for his past actions is also shown using this metaphor for fire. All Might’s ambition to become the strongest hero for the sake of a more peaceful society, is also represented by fire. Especially a flame that he passes from one person to the next, that Nana passed to him, and he passed to Deku.

Endeavor is almost always associated with the more violent aspect of fire, when he thinks of the harm he’s done to his family it’s always juxtaposed to the fire on his face.

(The right side fire, the left side Rei’s suffering face.)

Whereas the more gentle associations with fire are almost made with Shoto. Once again the novel of Frankenstein doesn’t decry ambition, it merely explores the consequences of ambitions that were extremely self-interested from the start. Endeavor only wanted to be strong for his own sake. Shoto who wanted to become a hero like All Might who would never make his mother cry, and All Might who wanted to create a safer society are people with strong ambitions that are associated with gentler flames.

2. Dabi and Frankenstein’s Monster

Sins of the Father or Sins of the Fathers derives from biblical references primarily in the books Exodus, Deuteronomy, and Numbers to the sins or iniquities of one generation passing to another. Basically what it means is its a narrative trope where children are punished or suffer consequences for the action of their fathers. It can also mean that children inevitably reflect what their fathers have done to them, and even resemble their fathers.

Everything the monster does is a reflection of Frankentstein’s actions. Everything Dabi does is both a consequence and a reflection of Endeavor’s actions. They are both written as sons to be narrative foils to their creator. If anything Dabi is even more of a frankenstein’s monster than Shoto, because a key element to the narrative is that Frankenstein was abandoned for not being perfect according to his creator’s wishes, he was punished for a defect.

Touya just like frankenstein is a defective creation. One who suffers all of the consequences for what are his father’s sins. Endeavor deliberately took risks with his eugenics experiment that the child might have a quirk not compatible with their body, but it’s the child and not the parent who suffers all of the consequences. Toya literally died - whether he faked his death or not has yet to be revealed but he lost his home and family at a young age, spent most of his life homeless, and has to continually make use of a quirk that burns his entire body. Whether he wants them or not, his father’s sins are pushed onto Dabi.

The flame that Endeavor is so keen on passing to his children, has literally permanently disabled Dabi, and will negatively effect him for the rest of his life. Consequences that Endeavor ought to suffer are passed onto Dabi instead. Dabi is burned by Endeavor’s actions towards him.

This is once again something deliberately brought up by the book Frankenstein. The doctor creates life, takes absolutely no responsibility and leaves his creature to starve to death in the wilderness, and then the first time they meet again calls upon his creation to die.

“I expected this reception,” said the dæmon. “All men hate the wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life?

The decision to create life irresponsibly was Victor’s, but the person who suffers the brunt end of the consequences is not Victor, but rather the creature itself who just like Dabi has no home, and is constistently hurt by the environment around him.

Dabi is also a symbol of the worst possible aspects of Endeavor’s ambitions.

To compare Victor and the monster briefly. Victor

Has family / friends

Home / Money / Wealth

Arrogant / Well Educated

Self-Destructive

A tool

The Monster

Abandoned

Ignorant (at first)

Homeless

A tool, but a more sympathetic one.

As you can see they are societally complete opposites. This can be said for Endeavor as well, he still gets to keep his family, his place in society despite what he’s done, he’s wealthy, succesful and well-liked in his community. Dabi is permanently disabled because of something his father did, is legally dead, homeless, separated from his family, and is a villain.

While they are completely opposite in status, the monster and Victor are eerily similiar. They are both highly intelligent people who carry a strong ambition within them. The Monster basically learns speech, and reading all on his own, and as soon as he can be becomes as well-read as possible.

Fortunately the books were written in the language, the elements of which I had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of Paradise Lost, a volume of Plutarch’s Lives, and the Sorrows of Werter. The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I now continually studied and exercised my mind upon these histories, whilst my friends were employed in their ordinary occupations.

The monster also shares several of his father’s sin. He repeats the sins that have been done on to him, in the name of vengeance. Frankenstein’s claim is that he was hurt when he was still an innocent, punished before he had done anything wrong, but he also does the exact same thing to VIctor’s youngest brother killing him when he was just a child.

Victor’s worst sin by far is selfish entitlement, forgetting to consider the feelings of his creation. Yet, the monster knowing how much he suffered by just being created in a world where there’s no one else like him also demands Victor create another creature. This is out of his own personal sense of entitlement, he believes he’s entitled to have someone love him, and if he had this he would be a good person again.

He believes quite literally he deserves an Eve to share his loneliness in. His own personal feelings of grief and hurt matter more than those of: one the people he kills, and two a potential woman who would be created only to love him.

But it was all a dream; no Eve soothed my sorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam’s supplication to his Creator. But where was mine? He had abandoned me, and in the bitterness of my heart I cursed him.

The monster also feels entitled to punish Frankenstein, but in this reccuring sins of the fathers he punishes people who are completely innocent of the crime that Frankenstein did to him and have nothing to do with his creation, just to get back at Frankenstein. Including, an innocent boy, a maid who he framed for murder, Frankenstein’s friend, and also Elizabeth.

Dabi inevitably reflects his father and the environment he was raised in, and resembles him. Dabi who was raised by a quirk supremacist and thrown out because his quirk wasn’t good enough, kills people he doesn’t find worthy. Dabi’s methods are almost entirely based around his his individual strength because he was raised to believe that was the only good part of him. The same way Dabi was thrown out like burnable trash for failing to live up to his standards, Dabi will enact harsh vigilante justice and kill minor crimminals and heroes who fail to live up to his justice.

Just like for the monster’s actions in punishing Victor, Dabi is called to consider the feelings of family’s of the people he kills. He is also punishing people completely unrelated to what happened to him, in his efforts to hold his father accountable.

Dabi reflects his father, and quirk society the same things that burned him. He continually believes he has to be the strongest individually, accomplish everything on his own, and spurn others around him. Even those who try to make genuine connections with him like the league of villains. Dabi believes that the world has to be changed with the strength of ambitions of a single person, and his ambitions are far more important than the sense of family within the league.

Dabi effectively distances himself from two families, the found family of the league, and also his original biological family. Think about how much it might save Natsuo to lean that his brother is still alive. Shoto at least, doesn’t want to see his father roasted alive on live television.

Dabi’s ambitions are as self destructive as his fathers, as he only knows how to fight by completely burning his body up. He harms himself over and over again by using his quirk to try to change things.

3. Endeavor and Ujiko

The book ultimately poses the question who is responsible for the actions of the monster, Frankenstein or the Monster itself. However, I think an element missed in a lot of analysis is that the mosnter accepts that most of what he has done is wrong, he just wants people to be held equally accountable for their actions.

“You, who call Frankenstein your friend, seem to have a knowledge of my crimes and his misfortunes. But in the detail which he gave you of them he could not sum up the hours and months of misery which I endured wasting in impotent passions. For while I destroyed his hopes, I did not satisfy my own desires. They were for ever ardent and craving; still I desired love and fellowship, and I was still spurned. Was there no injustice in this? Am I to be thought the only criminal, when all humankind sinned against me? Why do you not hate Felix, who drove his friend from his door with contumely? Why do you not execrate the rustic who sought to destroy the saviour of his child?

The monster’s problem is not that he shouldn’t be held accountable for his actions, but rather that he’s the only one whose ever held accountable for his actions. The Monster also spends most of the narrative being treated as a monster, whereas Frankenstein faces no real consequences for what he’s done from the people around him, never loses his standing in society, never is cast out for his wrongs. Frankenstein continually avoids any and all responsibility towards the monster up until his death, and only takes responsibility in violently trying to kill his creation.

There are also oppurtunities for Frankenstein to take responsibility, which he chooses not to do anything. An innocent maid is about to be executed for a crime that Frankenstein knows she did not commit, and instead of trying to help her by explaining to everyone his creation of the creature, and also that the creature is likely responsible for the murder he says nothing. While not responsible for the women’s death, he is culpable in that he could have taken action to save her but didn’t.

Franketnstein’s actions are again and again always to run away from the monster and avoid responsibility. From the beginning he runs away from the monster due to it simply being ugly. Both the monster (and also Toya) were punished when they were innocent children who had not committed any kind of crime, by the person who was responsible for raising them, educating them, and giving them everything they needed to become happy adults.

“Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.”

While Frankenstein and the Monster both entitled, their reasons for entitlement come from entirely different places. Frankenstein’s comes from his own arrogance, believing that he’s destined to do great things, and be a man of status and accomplishment. Why men great till they gotta be great.

The monster believes he’s entitled to a family, because his father abandoned him, and he’s been homeless most of his life. The monster is violent, but only after he’s endured violence from people several times over. The monster is ultimately a victim of circumstance, and Frankenstein is the one who created that circumstance.

Considering Frankenstein and the monster are foils, there’s a reason that Frankenstein fears and abhors the monster before it’s even awake. It’s because the monster reflects the ugliness of his own actions. The ugliness in himself that he is completely unable to face. He is a negative character foil in a character sense, and a shadow created by Frankenstein’s actions.

The monster shows Victor what he is, selfish, entitled, and violent. Victor can’t ever confront the monster, because he can never confront those flaws within himself.

Dabi is a reflection of Endeavor’s violent, abusive nature. He is also the direct consequence of all of Endeavor’s actions. So the question is, has Endeavor confronted the monstrous side of his actions? The answer is most likely no, because despite doing things as bad as any villain in the story he still views himself as the hero.

Shoto even tells us directly. Endeavor the hero and Endeavor the father are so different they’re almost like two different people. Endeavor continuing to be a hero on the television and coming home to his family is not taking repsonsibility for his actions, not truly, because he still hasn’t accepted the worst of what he’s done.

In the narrative Endeavor currently feels guilt, and also a desire to atone but we’re also told again and again that atoning means taking responsibility and carrying everything. No building a house where his family doesn’t have to be around him and taking steps to distance himself isn’t taking full resposnibility because Dabi is still running around. Dabi is the embodiment of the absolute worst of Endeavor’s actions, the toxic environment that literally killed Toya, burned Shoto, and hospitalized Rei. I would say Endeavor still hans’t seen the worst of his actions because he still views himself as the hero, just the hero who has made mistakes. We’re shown this in foiling, the same way Fankenstein rejects the monster, Endeavor doesn’t recognize Dabi even though he is literally his own son.

The strongest evidence of this is Endeavor and Ujiko’s foiling. They are two characters who have a lot in common, they both used children as experiments in their attempts to create stronger quirks including their own family members (Ujiko experimented on his own nephew).

They’re both men of incredible wealth and status in society, who have deliberately used their status to cover up their cimes. Endeavor used his status to hospitalize his wife for years, he used his status to marry her in the first place, Ujiko uses all of his money and resources to find people to experiment on, and deliberately takes advantage of people in need by using his orphanage and hospitals to farm for materials to make his Nomus with.

They’re both motivated by their own personal ambitions. They also feel entitled, Ujiko’s specific issue is that the scientific community failed to give him the respect and funding for his research that he thought he was owed.

The source of Endeavor’s pain is that no matter how hard he works he’ll never become the strongest. The source of Ujiko’s pain is that nobody recognizes his work and achievements in his scientific community. They both want their hard work to turn into achievement, for their efforts to pay off, which again is not a bad thing until they get angry when they’re not given what they think they’re owed.

Ujiko and Endeavor both become so desperate to accomplish their ambitions that they manipulate people to become tools to fulfill their ambitions for them. Shoto has to carry on his legacy, and learn to use his flame side like Endeavor always wanted. They both create children that they are technically the parent of, but don’t act as fathers. Endeavor is responsible for Fuyumi, Natsuo, Touya, and Todoroki but fails to live up to that responsibility. Ujiko creates the Nomu, which just like the monster in Frankenstein are new life created from the corpses of other people, and then just uses them and disposes them as tools.

Ujiko even utters a line that is incredibly similiar to Endeavor in the regards to the way they treat Shigaraki and Shoto.

However how does Endeavor react to Ujiko? Does he understand the harm that he’s done in a new light? No, he falls back on his hero narrative. I am the hero, and Ujiko is the utlimate evil.

Endeavor so far, like Frankenstein, fails to truly confront the monster. Even when he finally realizes the destructive nature of his desire to be stronger than anyone else when he fights the Nomu, his response is to burn it alive. What is Endeavor’s response? To play hero, and defeat a villain.

The thing about jungian shadow arcs is that you don’t destroy your shadow, you reintegrated it. Endeavor can’t symbolically murder his past self because that won’t make his past actions go away, he can only accept them. The question now is: will he do the same thing to Dabi?

When confronted with who Dabi is and his role in creating Dabi, what will Endeavor’s choice be? Is he going to play the hero, and destroy the villain he sees in front of him. The same way he did with the Nomu, the same way he did with Ujiko, the same way he’s trying to do with Shigaraki (who is, you know a heavy parallel to his own son Toya, and another abused child).

Will Endeavor act as a hero, or the remorseful father he also is? That choice is utlimately what Endeavor’s entire character is written around, does he want to finally be a father or does he want to keep being endeavor the hero? What is more important to him his own ambitions as a hero, or the people he’s harmed?

Just like Victor, Endeavor’s entire arc revolves around Dabi. He is a hero directly responsible for the creation of a villain. Dabi would not exist if it were not for Endeavor’s direct actions. Not only that but his future will be determined by how he chooses to interact with Dabi once he knows the truth. Endeavor cannot truly take responsibility until he takes responsibility for Dabi.

#mha meta #mha dabi #dabi is touya #dabi #enji todoroki #endeavor #frankenstein #mary shelley's frankenstein #Sometimes you gotta wake up in the morning and decide to spend your entire day writing an incredibly long essay about classic literature

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dwellordream · 3 years

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“...Because if we want to ask “What was life as a woman like in Sparta?” we really need to ask “What was life like as a helot woman?” because they represent c. 85% of all of our women and c. 42.5% of all of our humans. And I want to stress the importance of this question, because there are more helot women in Sparta than there are free humans in Sparta (as from last time, around 15% of Sparta is free – men and women both included – but 42.5% of Sparta consists of enslaved helot women). If we want to say absolutely anything about the condition of life in Sparta, we simply cannot ignore such a large group of human beings living in Sparta.

...The primary economic occupation of helot women was probably in food preparation and textile production. And if I know my students, I know that the moment I start talking about the economic role of women in ancient households, a very specific half of the class dozes off. Wake Up. There is an awful tendency to see this ‘women’s work’ as somehow lesser or optional. These tasks I just listed are not economically marginal, they are not unimportant. Yes, our ancient sources devalue them, but we should not.

First: let’s be clear – women in ancient households (or early modern households, or modern households) were not idle. They had important jobs every bit as important as the farming, which had to get done for the family to survive. I’ve estimated elsewhere that it probably takes a minimum of something like 2,220 hours per year to produce the minimum necessary textile goods for a household of five (that’s 42 hours a week spinning and weaving, every week). Most of that time is spent spinning raw fibers (either plant fibers from flax to make linen, or animal fibers from sheep to make wool). The next step after that is weaving those threads into fabric. Both weaving and spinning are slow, careful and painstaking exercises.

Food preparation is similarly essential, as you might imagine. As late as 1900, food preparation and cleanup consumed some 44 hours per week on average in American households, plus another 14 hours dedicated to laundry and cleaning (Lebergott, Pursuing Happiness (1993)). So even without child rearing – and ask any parent, there is a TON of work in that – a small peasant household (again, five members) is going to require something like 100 hours per week of ‘woman’s work’ merely to sustain itself.

Now, in a normal peasant household, that work will get split up between the women of the house at all ages. Girls will typically learn to spin and weave at very young ages, at first helping out with the simpler tasks before becoming fully proficient (but of course, now add ‘training time’ as a job requirement for their mothers). But at the same time (see Erdkamp, The Grain Market in the Roman Empire (2005) on this) women often also had to engage in agricultural labor during peak demand – sowing, harvesting, etc. That’s a lot of work to go around. Remember, we’re positing a roughly 5 individual household, so those 100 hours may well be split between only two people (one of whom may be either quite old or quite young and thus not as productive).

...Let’s start textiles. Spartiate women do not engage in textile manufacture (Xen. Lac. 1.4) as noted previously, nor do they seem (though the evidence here is weaker) to engage in food preparation. In the syssitia, at least, the meals are cooked and catered by helot slaves (Plut. Lyc. 12.5, 12.7). In the former case, we are told explicitly by Xenophon that it is slave labor (he uses the word doule, “female slave,” which clearly here must mean helot women) which does this.

So helot women now have an additional demand on their time and energy: not only the 2,200 hours for clothing their own household, but even more clothing the spartiate household they are forced to serve. If we want to throw numbers at this, we might idly suppose something like five helot households serving one spartiate household, suggesting something like a 20% increase in the amount of textile work. We are not told, but it seems a safe bet that they were also forced to serve as ‘domestics’ in spartiate households. That’s actually a fairly heavy and onerous imposition of additional labor on these helot women who already have their hands full.

We also know – as discussed last time – that helot households were forced to turn over a significant portion of their produce, perhaps as high as half. I won’t drag you all through the details now – I love agricultural modeling precisely because it lets us peak into the lives of folks who don’t make it into our sources – but I know of no model of ancient agriculture which can tolerate that kind of extraction without bad consequences. And I hear the retort already coming: well, of course it couldn’t have been that bad, because there were still helots, right? Not quite, because that’s not how poor farming populations work. It can be very bad and still leave you with a stable – but miserable – population.

Let’s talk about seasonal mortality. As the primary food-preparers in the helot household, helot women are going to have the job of managing a constrained but variable flow of food through an extended family that may include their husband, children, older relatives, etc. Given the low productivity of ancient farming, this is a tricky operation in systems where rents are extracting 10% or 20% of the farming yield every year, but given the demands of supporting an entirely unproductive class of elites, it becomes even harder. The key task here is stretching one harvest through the next planting to the next harvest, every year. That means carefully measuring out the food consumption of the household against the available reserves, making sure there is enough to last over the winter. If too much food is extracted by the elites, or the harvest fails or (likely) some combination, the family will run into shortage.

Now, the clever helot woman knows this – peasants, male and female, are canny survivors, not idiots, and they plan for these things (seriously, far too many of my students seem to instinctively fall into the trap of assuming serfs, peasants, etc. are idiots who don’t know what they are doing. These people have survived for generations with very few resources, often in situations of significant volatility and violence; they’re not stupid, they’re poor, and there is a difference!) – so she will have strategies to stretch out that food to try to keep herself and her family alive.

But that in turn often means inflicting a degree of malnutrition on the family unit, in order to avoid outright starvation – stretching the food out. It also probably means a lot of related strategies too: keeping up horizontal ties with other farming households so that there is someone to help you out in a shortage, for instance. Canny survivors. That said – especially in a situation where shortages hit everyone at once – a shortfall in food is often unavoidable.

But, we need to note two things here: first: humans of different ages and conditions react to malnutrition differently. Robust adults can tolerate and recover from periods of malnutrition relatively easily. For pregnant women, malnutrition increases all sorts of bad complications which will probably kill the child and may kill the mother. For the elderly and very young children, malnutrition dramatically increases mortality (read: lots of dead children and grandparents), as compromised immune systems (weakened by malnutrition) lead to diseases that the less robust old and young cannot fight off.

Second – and this is the sad and brutal part – feeding the agricultural workers, meaning the adult males (and to a lesser extent, adult females), has to come first, because they need to make it to the planting with sufficient strength to manage the backbreaking labor of the next crop. If it’s a choice between the survival of the family unit, and taking a chance that you lose Tiny Tim, our helot mother knows she has to risk Tiny Tim.

So in a good year, there is food enough for the entire household. Families expand, children grow up, the elderly part of the family makes it through another winter, imparting wisdom and comfort. But the bad years carry off the very young and the very old (and the as-yet unborn). For children who make it out of infancy, a series of bad years in early childhood – quite a common thing – are likely to leave them physically stunted. It was very likely that most helots were actually physically smaller and weaker than their better nourished spartiate masters for this reason (this is a pattern visible archaeologically over a wide range of pre-modern societies).

The population doesn’t contract, because the mortality isn’t hitting adults of child-bearing age nearly as hard, meaning that in future good years, there will be new children. In fact, societies stuck in this sad equilibrium tend to ‘bounce back’ demographically fairly quickly, because massive external mortality (say from war or plague) frees up land and agricultural surplus which leads to better nutrition which leads to less infant mortality which leads to rapid recovery.

...And so helot women must have spent a lot of time worrying about food scarcity, worrying if their sick and malnourished children or parents would make it through winter. Grieving for the lost child, the lost pregnancy, the parent taken too quickly. Probably all while being forced to do domestic labor for the spartiates, who were both the cause of her misery and at the same time did no labor at all themselves and yet were better fed than her family would ever be. Because peasant labor of any kind is so precariously balanced, we can really say that every garment woven for the spartiates, every bushel turned over, represented in some real sense an increase in that grief. Subsistence farming is always hard – but the Spartan system seems tailor made to push these subsistence farmers deeper and deeper into misery.

The instances of brutality against the helots – the murders and humiliations – which our sources preserve are directed at helot men, but it seems an unavoidable assumption that helot women were also treated poorly. Spartiate women were, after all, products of the same society which trained young men to ambush and murder helot men at night for no reason at all – it strikes me as an enormous and unsubstantiated leap to assume they were, for some reason, kind to their own female domestic servants.

In fact, the one thing we do know about spartiates – men and women alike – is that they seem to have held all manual laborers in contempt, regarding farming, weaving and crafting as tasks unbefitting of free people. I keep returning to it, but I want to again mention the spartiate woman who attempts to shame an Ionian woman because the latter is good at weaving, which in the mind of the spartiate, was labor unbecoming of a free person (Plut. Mor. 241d, note Xen. Lac. 1.4). The same attitude comes out of a spartiate man who, on seeing an Athenian convicted for idleness in court, praised the man, saying he had only been convicted of being free (Plut. Mor. 221c). This is a society that actively despises anyone who has to work for a living – even free people. Why wouldn’t that extend to its treatment of helot women?

To this, of course, we must add now the krypteia and incidents like the 2,000 murdered helots recounted by Thucydides (Thuc. 4.80). While the murdered are men, we need to also think of the survivors: the widowed wives, orphaned daughters, grieving mothers. This must have been part of the pattern of life for helot women as well – the husband or brother or cousin or father or son who went out to the fields one day and didn’t come back. The beautiful boy who was too beautiful and was thus murdered by the spartiates because – as we are told – they expressly targeted the fittest seeming helots in an effort at reverse-eugenics (Plut. Lyc. 28.3).

Finally, we need to talk about the rape. We are not told that spartiate men rape helot women, but it takes wilful ignorance to deny that this happened. First of all, this is a society which sends armed men at night into the unarmed and defenseless countryside (Hdt. 4.146.2; Plut. Lyc. 28.2; Plato, Laws 633). These young men were almost certainly under the normal age of marriage and even if they weren’t, their sexual access to their actual spouse was restricted.

Moreover (as we’ll see in a moment) there were clearly no rules against the sexual exploitation of helot women, just like there were no laws of any kind against the murder of helot men. To believe that these young men – under no direction, constrained by no military law, facing no social censure – did not engage in sexual violence requires disbelieving functionally the entire body of evidence about sexual violence in combat zones from all of human history. Anthropologically speaking, we can be absolutely sure this happened and we can be quite confident (and ought to be more than quite horrified) that it happened frequently.

But we don’t need to guess or rely on comparative evidence, because this rape was happening frequently enough that it produced an identifiable social class. The one secure passage we have to this effect is from Xenophon, who notes that the Spartan army marching to war included a group he calls the nothoi – the bastards (Xen. Hell. 5.3.9). The phrase typically means – and here clearly means – boys born to slave mothers. There is a strong reason to believe that these are the same as the mothakes or mothones which begin appearing with greater frequently in our sources. Several of these mothakes end up being fairly significant figures, most notably Lysander (note Plut. Lys. 2.1-4, where Plutarch politely sidesteps the question of why Lysander was raised in poverty and seemed unusually subservient and also the question of who his mother was).”

- Bret Devereaux, “This. Isn’t. Sparta. Part III: Spartan Women.”

#spartan #greek #ancient #bret devereaux #history #cw: rape #weaving

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goldenkamuyhunting · 4 years

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Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 268 “A single poison arrow”

So we finally shed some light on what happened during the Nopperabou incident and on Tsurumi’s involvement in the whole thing and how...

...how suspicion can lead everything downhill.

Well, actually the meme opening this chapter is based on the aria, “La calunnia è un venticello” (“Calumny is a little breeze”) from the Opera Buffa “Il Barbiere di Siviglia” (“The Barber of Seville”) by Gioacchino Rossini... but I’ve to say calumny and suspect work in very similar way so the whole thing felt fitting.

Before we start this chapter I feel I’ve to place a warning here.

In this part of the story GK talks of how Ainu were feelings in regard to Japanese and in regard to each others. I’m not even going to try to dig into if this respected things in real life or not, I’ll just discuss it as it’s presented in the story because it’s of the story I’m discussing.

That’s not because real life historical discussions are uninteresting, they’re probably way more interesting and relevant to present life than my little ramblings on a manga chapter here.

However, real life discussions on how real life Ainu historically were and which kind of relationship they had among them or with the Wajin back then, should take place in a more appropriate place, that’s not my ramblings for a manga chapter, and be done by people who have a way more accurate knowledge of this part of history than I can ever hope to reach.

Said so I invite everyone to make them in a more fitting place, a place in which what’s discussed isn’t a FICTIONAL STORY who might or might not respect reality, but real HISTORY and real people, who deserve respect and didn’t exist purely for our intellectual entertainment.

Let’s not confuse Noda’s tale with an historical book or my ramblings as something more than comments on a fictional story. It would show a lack of respect to all of the above.

And now, lets start.

We resume with a continuation of Kiro’s letter.

Kiro wrote to Sofia Wilk’s last words to him where that Wilk was praying for Asirpa’s happiness, that, instead than having her be someone who has others fight for her and live in a safe place without feeling any responsibility, he wanted her to become someone who chooses the difficult path of her own will and tries to grasp her own happiness by herself like Sofia.

So, although he probably never fell in love with Sofia, she did an impression on him as well.

Something else that’s noteworthy is that Wilk’s thoughts resemble both Koito Heiji’s, who, aware his son would one day become a commander, wanted him to become a man capable to face hardship on his own and that he had no right to shield his son when he himself lead other men to war (chap 139)

and Boutarou’s, when he told Shiraishi happiness doesn’t fall from heaven but one has to grasp it (chap 258).

At the same time they contrast with Hanazawa’s ideas, as he turned his son into a flagbearer, someone who yes, lead men to war but doesn’t fight himself (although he undoubtedly risks his life even more than them) and not even think for himself (as Yuusaku explained he was doing what he was doing merely because his father told him so),

...and Sugimoto’s, as he believes he should be the one fighting for the people he cares for and they should just sit back and let themselves be protected.

I hope you’ll forgive me if I’ll focus a bit on Wilk’s and Sugimoto’s mindsettings in this regard as I know there’s a great divide in the fandom about who’s right... and the key point is probably that both are right and wrong at the same time.

Let’s start with Wilk.

His intentions toward Asirpa are good on the outward.

He wants her to be happy and her to be in charge of her destiny, responsible and aware of her condition.

This should be every father’s wish for his own children.

But, at the same time Wilk fails her in the sense he projects his own thoughts and ambitions on her, thinking she would automatically embrace them once he were to prepare her to do it. Like he had done with Kiro, telling him his own idea was the best plan and not bothering to discuss things with anyone else, he just expects Asirpa to see the Ainu question the same way as he does, became a partisan and fight a guerrilla warfare against the Japanese as the leader of the Ainu.

Asirpa at the time was a child around 6/7, she might have been wiser than her age, more mature, but still a child who hadn’t a fully formed personality, ideals and wishes for her future.

And Wilk, sure his own ideas are the best, projects them on her, thinking she too will choose them and will pursue them in the exact same way he would.

Giving Asirpa the instruments to be able to pursue them should she decide to do so is a great thing, assuming she would SURELY decide to do so and would do so in the manner Wilk would pursue them, is a completely different matter, unfair to her as she doesn’t exist as an extension of Wilk and might have completely different wishes, ideas or ways to fulfil them... and this is twice as wrong as she pushes that burden on her when she’s still way too young to decide and risks ending up being manipulated or worse by men who’re way older than her and much more expert at this game.

Long story short, Wilk talks of Asirpa choosing... but he actually forces Asirpa into the situation and, while she could have still turned it down, well, this wasn’t really an option Wilk expected her to take as he believed Asirpa’s happiness would only come by fighting for the Ainu independence as a guerrilla as he and Sofia did.

Sure, part of the problem is that Wilk is the sort of person who, yes is highly intelligent but this gave him the belief he knows better than everyone else, so of course his choice to fight as a guerrilla is the best choice and the only one who can lead to happiness, but we also have to consider how, assuming a son was merely an extension of yourself, meant to carry on your job, ideals, wills and so on was a deeply rooted belief at the time, as well as the idea children were nothing else but ‘short adults’.

This means even if Wilk hadn’t been so overconfident in his own ideas and beliefs he would have still assumed Asirpa would have chosen his path merely because she’s his daughter, so part of Wilk’s mistakes are undoubtedly due to him living in a time period in which people believed in a completely wrong sets of ideas so yes, for him is difficult to realize he’s actually wronging Asirpa, but we, as readers, should know better.

Giving Asirpa the instrument to pursue whatever choice she were to make is cool, pushing her in a situation to force her taking a certain choice assuming she wants to take it when she’s in a age in which she’s not ready for such things, is not right.

On the other side there’s Sugimoto, a generation younger than Wilk’s, who just wants to protect her (and also Umeko and all the people he happens to love). This seems so very nice and it’s fitting for the modern way in which we expect one should deal with children, protecting them, sheltering them and creating a better world for them, not just passing on them all the responsibility, but the key point here is that, at the same time, same as Wilk, Sugimoto believes to know better than the ones he protects, when the story proves over and over than he doesn’t. This lead Sugimoto, same as Wilk, to push over and over his decisions on the people he wants to protect... so ironically, although on the surface he seems to be doing the opposite as Wilk, he’s actually doing the same, deciding a course for the people he loves instead of letting them choose for themselves, the real difference is that the course he decides is opposite to the one Wilk decided for Asirpa.

Sugimoto wants Asirpa to live someplace safe without a care in the world as others fight for her.

The mistakes here are:

- Ainu’s lifestyle is at risk and he doesn’t know nearly the next thing to Ainu situation to be able to decide for Asirpa’s well being, nor is he willing to fight for the Ainu’s sake in her place... and he clearly doesn’t wish a fight between Ainu and Wajin because the latter wouldn’t be beneficial for him either. Long story short he’s deciding things from a very uninformed point... a point that’s also very biased as he’s a Wajin who don’t really see much value in Ainu culture and didn’t know or experienced many of their hardship.

- he wish to take decisions for Asirpa without even considering Asirpa’s will. While Wilk automatically assumed Asirpa’s happiness would be to turn into a partisan and fight for her culture because this was what it was for him, Sugimoto assumes Asirpa’s happiness can’t be fighting for her own people because he loathed it. Asirpa is no more an extension of Sugimoto than she is of her father. She’s her own being, deciding if she wants to spend her life fighting for her people or not is up to her. Sure, she’s undoubtedly too young to do it NOW so Sugimoto, as her friend, should do his best to help her to realize she shouldn’t make this choice now, that she’s not ready for it, not that ‘this choice is not to be performed’ (yeah, the resemblance with a quote from “The Betrothed” by Alessandro Manzoni is deliberate).

So this leaves Asirpa with two figures who think they know best and try to push her in opposite directions... without realizing they’re basically imposing on her their views. I’m curious to see where this will lead Asirpa.

The story depicts both Wilk and Sugimoto as opposite in this and too extreme in their opposition (either lead the Ainu in battle or sit there and do nothing pretending nothing is going on), so I wonder if the idea Noda is trying to pass is that Asirpa will chose something that’s in the middle. We’ll see.

Back to the story another important bit in all this is that Kiro said those were the last words Wilk told him. This tells us Kiro didn’t get the chance to confront with Wilk again, which seems to imply he either wasn’t involved at all in the Ainu massacre or didn’t manage to talk with Wilk during it.

We move to Asirpa who seems a bit saddened...

...but then proceed to defend her father’s mindsetting, saying this was the sort of person he was, that if he was making others fight he would feel the need to put his daughter at the forefront of the battle.

Asirpa might not realize it, but she’s basically saying she too was a pawn in her father’s game. In her words Wilk was making everyone fight, and he placed her in a certain position in order to make her too fight like the others.

It would be different if she had said Wilk knew her and knew she would want to fight so he shared his dream with her... it would imply not manipulation but regard for her own wishes... but put in the way she put it, it’s still Wilk deciding for her.

I’m not sure she realizes or, if she were to realize, she would care.

The idea children are an extension of parents works both ways, with children BELIEVING they had to fulfill their parents expectations so, for her, it might be natural to expect she had to obey to her father’s will.

Tsurumi, who’s another father, agrees that if Wilk has simply wanted to protect his family, he could have simply had them live quietly, hidden away somewhere far from battle...

...which in a way is what he tried to do with Fina and Olga and that spectacularly backfired when Fina decided she had a mind of her own and came back despite Tsurumi telling her not to.

I wonder if the idea is Tsurumi’s mindsetting about handling his family was meant to be similar to Sugimoto, not only he wanted to decide for them because he knew what was best, but wanted to just keep them out of it. It’s noteworthy the thing backfired also because Fina came back for the wrong reason, she assumed the problem were Wilk and Co once she was the wanted posters, she had no idea Tsurumi was a spy targeted by the secret police. It’s possible if she had known the situation she would have made different choices. Tsurumi kept her in the dark and decided for her... she refused to play by his rules but, as she lacked all the information, she took the wrong decision and she and her baby died.

As Tsurumi suggests Wilk would have had the option to let his family live quietly Asirpa counters that in this way they would forget... basically the whole Ainu way, including the language and the Kamuy and this would eventually lead the Ainu to disappear, which not necessarily imply they would die but, as Kiro told her in the past, that their culture would be simply erased and they would be assimilated.

Asirpa clearly doesn’t want this, at this point she clearly wants to stand up for her father’s cause, for the Ainu cause.

And it’s at this point Tsurumi attacks.

Gone is the conciliating man mourning for his wife and child as with an open mouthed grin which well show his teeth he yells he’ll tell them about the miserable end that awaited Wilk and the other Ainu who were fighting so bravely to protect the Kamuy, scaring Asirpa and Sofia both.

Tsurumi says after Wilk split with Kiroranke he and the others went to search for the gold. At the same time they tracked down the source of the information about the old Ainu man, Kimuspu, the guy who survived smallpox and was among the others who tried to buy weapons from the Russians.

And guess who was the one who had the bright idea to inform everyone and their moms of Kimuspu being alive and kicking?

Yeah, Siromakur, Ariko’s dad. -_-

I’m start to think he was the personification of the blabbermouth for the Ainu. Is there a reason why he felt the need to tell everyone about Kimuspu being alive? Because really, I don’t think it was a smart choice.

Tsurumi confirms the guy was the one who first spotted Kimuspu and who had originally joined Wilk and the others in their search for the gold.

Tsurumi went to visit him with Usami and Kikuta. The uniform he’s wearing is the one who had during Koito’s kidnapping, but it’s missing its sleeves. I would say this means this meeting is taking place AFTER Koito’s kidnapping and Tsurumi didn’t have the time or the money to replace the uniform (if my memory doesn’t serve me wrong officers were meant to pay for their own equipment).

There’s no sight of Tsukishima or Ogata.

It can be they’re busy with something else, or that Tsurumi doesn’t want to involve the more morally sensible parties in this part of his plan.

Why I call them more ‘morally sensible’?

Because we know Tsurumi felt the need to test and strengthen Tsukishima’s loyalty during the Russo-Japanese war, and because Ogata showed weakness toward Koito, feeding him with Anpan which nearly gave away the fact they weren’t Russian and even patted his back in sympathy. So it’s entirely possible the both of them back then weren’t jaded enough yet to be considered reliable by Tsurumi, should things turn ugly.

Siromakur is carving a knife for his own son. Tsurumi acts appreciative of the carving, with his usual technique of playing polite and respectful to get other people to trust him and talk to him.

Siromakur explains how the knife’s design is passed down in his family and how he’s going to send it to his son in the army so that he doesn’t forget about being an Ainu.

Siromakur will reveal himself as a man who’s balanced between wanting to keep the Ainu alive yet also wanting his people to coexist with the Wajin peacefully. While this is not a bad position per se, I fear his problem is most he’s not really working to find a way for them both to coexist but well, we’ll discuss this more later on.

Anyway Siromakur knows why Tsurumi and co are there, he tells them they’re too late if they planned to go after Kimuspu as Wilk and Co should have found the gold already... since they caught up with Kimuspu OVER A MONTH AGO.

Tsurumi then asks him why he’s not with the other Ainu and Siromakur explains he couldn’t go along with Wilk’s group’s way to do things.

He explains Kimuspu didn’t want to talk about the gold, saying it should remain buried right where it is because it’s cursed...

...which was what Makanakkuru said as well. Coincidence?

Maybe.

Still this causes Asirpa to ponder. I wonder if she remembers his uncle also thinking so. It’s worth to remember Huci said in their village there was a man knowing about the buried gold. Sugimoto and Shiraishi assumed that man was among the ones who died in the Nopperabou incident but this might not be the case.

That is, unless Noda retconned some details.

I mean, previously Makanakkuru talked about ‘their ancestors’ (先祖 ‘Senzo’) collecting the gold but Tsurumi, in chap 266, said the gold was gathered only 50 years ago.

Either someone is lying, or the gold was collected long before, then 50 years ago the Ainu tried to use it again or Noda retconned the story. We’ll see.

Anyway Siromakur goes on saying the more short-tempered men refused to accept this answer and started making threats, promising they would harm the man’s brother (the guy who talked with Boutarou) and the man’s grandson who’s no one else but Cikapasi...

and I’m not surprised. This is the ugly side of many partisans, they fight to protect their people but, if their people don’t cooperate with them, they turn against them as well.

Kiro, who felt bad for harming Inkarmat to the point he didn’t finish off Tanigaki when he came to avenge her, was a pretty uncommon one and the same goes for Siromakur, who claims he just couldn’t forgive that and so he left.

Tsurumi asks him if he heard the gold’s location but Siromakur, without looking at him, denies it, claiming he left before they find out and... I’m a bit impressed by how they let him leave. I wonder which excuse he used or if he was really that important they couldn’t force him to cooperate.

Anyway Tsurumi proceeds to try to paint himself as a friend who believes his words and only means the best for Siromakur.

He praises Siromakur saying he knows him and his son showed utmost dedication in helping Wajin recovering the bodies lost in the Hakkoda mountains and that he’s sure Siromakur is proud of how Ariko joined the 7th division and how Siromakur was wise in leaving whose who plotted to divide Ainu and Wajin.

Tsurumi’s words are clearly nice and amicable but they can be viewed also as a subtle reminder of how Ariko, being in the 7th, is under Tsurumi’s control and how Siromakur could easily be accused to have plotted against the Wajin.

Siromakur still tries to mediate.

He says he understands how whose Ainu feel.

According to him, in his region, Ainu relations with the Wajin were MOSTLY positive (meaning not perfect but good enough they, according to him, don’t have to complain) but in other regions Ainu have a deep hatred on the Wajin.

It’s interesting how he tries to be subtle and do not openly push the blame on the Wajin, not explaining why this deep hatred exist.

Siromakur says he cooperated hoping there was a way to use the gold without spilling blood... but then goes and say those 6 are stubborn and difficult men with a not deep relationship, united only by their shared extreme ideology toward the Japanese.

It’s overall... a pretty negative portrait and I don’t know how faithful that one is as the other 6 have no way to make their voice be heard but, assuming it’s faithful, it remarks the biggest failing of Wilk’s plan (by the way, interesting enough Wilk’s face among them is the only one shaded).

But I’ll discuss it in a while.

Siromakur however says there was one man, among them, who was capable to unite them with an incredible deft touch. He then proceeds to show how the group come to argue over one of the tradition which belonged to the Ainu from the Saru area. The argument is... ugly, because it seems to be chosen to point out how among Ainu from the same area there still were heavy discriminations as the Ainu from Saru are looked down because they eat a particular type of earth. It’s the sort of talk many readers would expect from a Wajin who would look down on Ainu, not from an Ainu to another.

In truth, although in a more peaceful way, Golden Kamuy has already depicted Ainu from various regions of Hokkaido as very different. We readers call them all Ainu and expect they’re all the same and feel the same, but the story actually portrayed them as if each region was its own country, with its own tradition and culture, similar to the other yet not the same.

Those men are now fighting for a common cause... but each of them carries with himself the baggage of their own region, a mix of beliefs and traditions and cultures that differ from the ones of the others, not as drastically as they do with the Wajin, but enough that, among them, they can spot differences that, to them, are jarring.

Anyway, as they start to toss insult and fight against each other, Wilk speaks up, explaining WHY the Ainu from the Saru area eat earth, and why the Ainu from Asahikawa and Nemuro don’t.

The biggest part of the Ainu seems to be impressed by Wilk’s words (except whose who started the argument) and Wilk, face completely shaded to the point it’s just a black spot and only his scar is visible, claims discrimination is born from ignorance (confirming that yes, the argument was spawned by discrimination) and that he thinks Ainu should understand each other and come together as one.

On a sidenote I’m not sure why Wilk’s face here is depicted as completely black, as if he was some sort of scary person. Overall I get the feeling from Siromakur’s words he somehow came to dislike Wilk, as if he were afraid of him.

I mean, Siromakur joined those extremists but he aimed actually at using the gold in a peaceful way that wouldn’t harm the Japanese. Maybe he was counting on them arguing, because, as long as they argue, nothing could be done by them against the Japanese.

“Divide et impera” is always true.

As long as the Ainu are divided, is easy to control them. Wilk instead unites them, which could make possible for them carry on a plan in which they would rebel against the Wajin. So for Siromakur, whose region is in good relation with the Wajin, a war wouldn’t be beneficial in the immediate times, so he fears it, he wants to keep the status quo.

According to him he joined them to do damage control, to stop them to use the gold against the Japanese... and then Wilk spoiled everything by making them more than willing to join forces against them.

Back to Wilk’s word about discrimination and how you should fight it with knowledge, this makes me think is this what Wilk was talking about with Sugimoto when he said in the magazine version that Asirpa has been training him (chap 136)...

‘Sisam yo… Ano ko ni zuibun to shikoma reta yōda na…’

シサㇺよ… あの子に随分と仕込まれたようだな…

“Sisam… it seems as if that girl has been training you, hasn’t she?’

Which however in the volume version was changed into

‘Sisam yo… ano ko ni zuibun to zuibun to kiniira re teru yōda na…’

シサㇺよ… あの子に随分と随分と気に入られてるようだな…

“Sisam… I can tell you care about her...”

So maybe originally Noda wanted Wilk to have Asirpa educate people, Wajin included, so as to overcome discrimination toward the Ainu, but then he just switched to Wilk wanting to unite the Japanese Ainu against the Japanese and the fact a Wajin could care about his daughter impressed him.

We’ll probably never know.

Anyway Siromakur goes on saying each of them ultimately acknowledged and trusted Wilk, as there had never been anyone who could bring together and lead the Ainu from all the different regions... again remarking how strongly divided the Ainu from the various regions were.

So let’s have another break here.

Wilk’s group, the one made by him, Kiro and Sofia, was, on the surface, a close one. They knew each other by years and trusted each other blindly.

We don’t really know about the other partisans, but we saw how Sofia’s men were fiercely loyal to her... and it’s possible the Partisans were the same at least toward Wilk and Kiro who basically spent their youth among them and murdered the emperor for them.

However now Wilk has moved to work with the Hokkaido Ainu.

Among them he’s an illustrious nobody who came from Karafuto, therefore not one of them. He managed to impress them enough to gain their trust but I genuinely doubt it’s a blind one.

As for the Hokkaido Ainu they aren’t really united, actually they are all basically strangers to each other and to him. He has to bridge among those men to create unity among them.

Overcoming discrimination isn’t something that can be done overnight.

Knowledge about the other can help only as long as you’re willing to open up and accept the other as an equal. If you remain trapped in your cocoon of ideas about the other being different because inferior, you won’t progress much even if you study the other.

Wilk’s idea he could easily unite those men, who, despite being against a common treat they loathe, can hardly stand each other and then have them accept also to host on their land minorities from Russia, who would have been likely subjected to even more discrimination, both for being different and for being migrant, was extremely unrealistic.

His idea Asirpa, a young girl in a culture that greatly discriminate women, could do it just because she was partly Hokkaido Ainu and partly Karafuto Ainu, is equally unrealistic.

We saw Ainu villages always ruled by an elder male, I’m not sure Ainu would be willing to take orders by a young girl.

So Wilk’s idea that his charisma or Asirpa’s could just solve everything is tenuous at best and, in fact Tsurumi will immediately shows us how it was easy to crash everything.

In fact we’ll see first how Tsurumi is impressed by the impressive feat this mysterious Ainu accomplished, uniting Ainu of different regions... or better just 6 Ainu from different regions, and asks from where Wilk was but Siromakur claims, against without looking him, he doesn’t know, tossing in the names of Bihoro and Sapporo as possible places from which Wilk could come. He says though he’s an Ainu from Karafuto, called by everyone Wilk and who has blue eyes and a scar on his face.

This produces quite a strong reaction in Tsurumi, his irises whitening, a sign used to point out Usami’s madness and the other characters’ murdering impulses.

Tsurumi, grinning, has realized this Ainu is the one he met in Vladivostok, who has become involved in his life again.

At this point, with eyes completely white, with no sign of pupils or irises as if he were looking not at what is in front of himself but in the far past, he announces Asirpa how ‘he shot a single poison arrow, aimed at Wilk’.

Tsurumi is using figurative speech as he shoot no arrow, he just planted the seed of mistrust and then ‘sat and watched everything as it crumbled down on Wilk’.

Okay, he didn’t sat, but you get the drill.

All Tsurumi had to do before leaving Siromakur is to reveal what Wilk has hidden to his companions, that Wilk was a guerrilla fighting against Russia, searching for funds for the revolutionary activities in Russia... and that’s why he came in Hokkaido in search of the Ainu gold.

Tsurumi asks Siromakur if Wilk came clear with them about this, knowing OF COURSE Wilk didn’t.

Wilk wouldn’t trust the others that much and coming clear would put him in an unfavourable position as gaining the others’ trust would be even more difficult.

However the fact he didn’t come clear becomes even more suspicious. Siromakur at this point doesn’t know anymore which is Wilk’s goal, if to hand the gold to the Russian partisans or to use it for the Hokkaido Ainu and likely fears he and the others had been manipulated by Wilk... and in a way they had. Only now they’re also being manipulated by Tsurumi.

It’s the same trick Tsurumi used with Kiro, telling Inkarmat Kiro was a partisan involved in the Nopperabou incident and let her report that information to the group to create distrust.

In Kiro’s case things worked a little better then they’ll do with Wilk, but that’s because Kiro has many things playing in his favour.

In Wilk’s case...

But let’s go on and see for ourselves.

Tsurumi waited with the others outside Siromakur’s house and, as expected, saw him rush out in panic. Tsurumi is sure Siromakur lied when he told him he didn’t hear the location of the gold and that now he’s headed there, to reveal to the other Ainu Wilk’s identity.

Tsurumi’s plan was to tail him but it’s late and Siromakur is impressive at moving in that area so he easily leaves them behind without even trying to do so.

Tsurumi’s men then hear gunfire...

...and then, at dawn, they find one of the Ainu men at death’s door. He’s Ratci, the Ainu from Asahikawa (or Nemuru but I tend to think he’s the one from Asahikawa) with an Ainu knife deep in belly. This sort of wounds cause a slow, painful dead, which is why he’s about to die but managed to last for so long.

Still the guy, differently from the other, is still whole and alive.

Tsurumi asks him if it was Wilk who killed him but the other claims Wilk didn’t do anything and it was just everyone who started killing each other. The knife in his belly is Siromakur’s by the way, we can recognize it by the design showed in this chapter and in chap 207.

There’s to wonder on those words because it seems pretty weird that the other said ‘Wilk didn’t do anything’. We would expect Wilk to be accused, to try to defend himself and the argument to degenerate, while here it seems as if the other started to try to kill each other for a reason unrelated to him.

To a shocked Asirpa Tsurumi says that those who wanted to defend Wilk and those who didn’t started fighting each other and killed each other.

As said before they were cooperating thanks to their trust in Wilk but that one was extremely frail. Tsurumi brags on how his ‘poison arrow’ caused it to crumble.

Still, in this reconstruction there’s no mention of Wilk’s role, it’s as if he just stood there and watched the other fighting. And then there were those three shoots. Did the Ainu go there with rifles? Did they shoot each other?

Was it as Ratci said or they realized they’ve been tricked by a smarter enemy and, before dying, Ratci spread misinformation so as to trick Tsurumi as well? Hard to say.

Anyway Tsurumi sums up that whoever revealed his identity to Siromakur would come after him following his lead. His plan to lose tracks was smart, impressive and terrible at the same time. Wilk... cut off his own face, put it on someone else’s severed head and faked his own death.

I... don’t want to think to how painful it was to do all that and if a man could really pull it out on his own or would have needed help to do it.

I mean, most of what happened in this chapter fits with my expectations of what happened in the incident.

I assumed one person couldn’t kill 6 Ainu and cause Wilk to escape, so the idea the Ainu killed each other fits with my belief.

I assumed Tsurumi couldn’t have killed them all because it wouldn’t fit his purposes and, in fact, the whole plan escaped from Tsurumi’s control as he only revealed those things to Siromakur in hope he would lead him to the others, not aiming to get the others killed.

Wilk claiming he didn’t kill the Ainu might fit in the sense he didn’t start the killing nor betrayed them. It feels weird he wasn’t involved at all in the fight, but maybe Wilk wasn’t present (if Asirpa’s dream/memory is to be trusted, his father was with her prior to the incident, so it might be he was coming back to Otaru when things took a turn for wrong and he reached the place when the fight had already started) when it started and only come there to see the result so he technically didn’t kill anyone.

It’s possible though he disembowelled them to disguise himself among the corpses.

I mean, one cut head with his face looks odd among many perfectly preserved corpses but if all the corpses are torn apart a cut head feels ‘perfectly normal’.

All the Ainu things presented cuts as per Ainu tradition. Unless someone else got there after the fight, it seems after the fight Wilk had to work a lot to both tear people apart, cut his face away and also mark the Ainu objects before he could leave the place.

This was... well, pretty risky for him as his chasers could be on him sooner than they did.

On a side note, unless Siromakur warned Kiro as well, this might mean Kiro had no idea what happened that way and also came to believe Wilk killed all those Ainu.

Going on with the speculations, Tanigaki wasn’t present but Ogata implied Tanigaki knew all the objects on the crime scene were retrieved by Tsurumi and Asirpa told Sugimoto the incident took place in Tomakomai... but Ariko’s father’s house in Noboribetsu, which is around 50 km from Tomakomai (it can be slightly more or less depending on which way you take) and, according to google, this means a 10 hours walk following the coast line.

I should praise Tsurumi, Kikuta and Usami for managing to do all that in the middle of the night, taking the way that goes through the mountains without even getting lost.

At this point we know Wilk escaped and reached the Shikotsu lake before being captured.

I always wondered if Ogata knew something about all that but, so far, what we had been told doesn’t help us to guess.

He wasn’t with Tsurumi for sure, was he the one who shoot? But if that’s the case why he was around?

The fact Kiro wanted him to kill Wilk dated to that time? Hard to say and it’s entirely possible the shoots were just due to the Ainu shooting each other.

Anyway that’s the end of this chapter.

We’ll see if the next will reveal us more.

#Golden Kamuy #Kiroranke #Wilk #Sofia #Asirpa #Tsurumi Tokushirou #Siromakur #Usami Tokishige #Kikuta Mokutarou #Mesira #Sukuta #Irenka #Ratci #Oskeporo #Golden Kamuy Ramblings and Theories #Ariko Rikimatsu #Kimuspu #Cikapasi

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nitewrighter · 4 years

Note

Omg I loved the ASOIAF Gency post you wrote recently! Can you write more?

God this has been languishing in my drafts since... September?? Jesus...

Anyway, a continuation of these ficlets!: 1, 2, 3

-----

“I mislike this,” said Orisa as Efi carried her helmet over to her, “I am your sworn shield, I will not have my oaths or her family’s... undermined like this!”

“And I’m quite capable of traveling on my own!” said Angela but both Efi and Orisa gave her skeptical looks and her lips thinned and she glanced off. No woman in her right mind would travel the Stormlands alone, but then again, no woman in her right mind would flee her betrothal with the intent of lying her way into the Citadel at Oldtown, either.

“This isn’t just about her, Orisa,” said Efi, “I want to go to Oldtown when I’m old enough, too. And I don’t want to be married off, either.”

“Your dowry could be in the form of books?” Orisa said a little helplessly, “Perhaps even Valyrian manuscripts!”

Efi gave her a half-lidded look with one corner of her mouth tugged up.

“...the marriage is the problem,” said Orisa, glancing off.

“The marriage is the problem,” said Mercy in agreement.

“It would only be to get her to the Citadel!” Efi insisted, “Then you could come right back to Aurochs-ford!”

“Taking the marriage out of the equation might force the Storm lords to re-evaluate their little feud as well,” said Mercy, “Disrupt things enough so they cool their heads. Maybe buy enough time for the Iron Throne to step in.”

“See?” said Efi, “You could be saving the Storm Lands in the long run! This definitely falls under ‘Sworn Shield’ duties.” Efi gave a glance to Angela, “If we can give her a chance...then maybe when I’m old enough...”

“You can forge your own Maester’s chain?” said Orisa with a tilt of her head.

“Not a full chain,” said Efi, “…Gold, iron, and black iron links for sure, though...” she said, trailing off thoughtfully.

“I only need the one,” said Angela, “Silver.... though... lead might be useful as well...”

“If you’re still at the Citadel when I get there, we’ll get a Valyrian steel link together!” said Efi, her hands balling into fists with excitement.

Angela chuckled a little, “I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”

“Indeed. Neither of you are at Oldtown yet,” said Orisa, flatly. She looked back at Efi, “I will see her safely to Oldtown at your request, my lady,” she said with a bow of her head.

Efi touched a small hand to the side of Orisa’s face, her brown eyes bright.

“And then I am coming right back to Aurochs-Ford,” said Orisa, furrowing her brow.

Efi giggled and brought her skinny arms about Orisa’s neck. Orisa pulled herself up to her full height to embrace her, bringing Efi up off the floor.

Right back to Aurochs-Ford.

Orisa’s eyes opened in a gray morning light and she quickly sat up in bed and gauged her surroundings. She was in a bare, wooden room, the foliage of a tree outside suggesting she was on the second floor of a building. Her own well-rested state quickly set her on high alert. She sat up in bed--Bed--right, they were in an inn. The mattress was stuffed with hay but it was still the finest sleeping conditions Orisa had since leaving Aurochs-Ford. She wondered if Lady Efi was doing all right. Probably still puzzling over those dusty old books of Valyrian alchemy and inventions, maybe even bogarting the castle blacksmith to forge her another obscure and specific little gear for her devices.

Orisa flinched in bed to see the door opening, her hand quickly going for the sword hanging on her bedpost, only to see Mercy in the doorframe, the very image of a pleasant septa with a tray of honeyed oatcakes, boiled eggs, and mugs of weak ale and goat’s milk.

“I overslept?” Orisa said looking out the window.

“No, I just woke up early to check on our lordling,” said Mercy, setting the tray on a table. She smiled a little. “He’s still alive---in remarkably better shape than last night, as well.” The relief in her voice gave Orisa pause.

“Do you still wish to go through with this?” said Orisa.

“What, I could bring books as a dowry?” said Mercy with a huff as she flaked shell off of her egg with her thumb, “I’m sure they’ll be perfectly wonderful reading when Lord Akande puts our houses to the torch.”

“You seemed to get on well with him,” said Orisa, frankly looking for any excuse to end this folly of a quest and get back to her young charge.

“Even if I did tell him--what would happen then? ‘Oh, by the way my lord, I’ve been lying to your face for the past three days because I’ve been desperately fleeing our marriage!’ That’s a wonderful start to things!” She huffed, “No,” she said, taking a bite out of her egg, “I said I would go to Oldtown, and I’m going to Oldtown, but if you wish to go back--”

“No one in their right mind would travel these lands alone,” said Orisa, flatly.

Mercy gave her a steady look, her mouth slightly tight at the corners in a not-quite smile. They were both highborn, but Orisa’s family had let her pursue knighthood while Mercy had seen more instruction in courtesy, embroidery, and the arts expected of ladyhood. There was admiration in Mercy’s eyes, maybe even a little envy. An idealist who longed to be practical, she gave off the air of someone who never quite fit the role set for her, and she had Orisa’s sympathy for that. Believing in the ideals of knighthood, that was a solid thing to believe in--but it definitely got more complicated being a woman.

“...I’m going to Oldtown because I--I don’t want to be a burden,” said Mercy, taking a bite out of her egg, “But I feel like a burden on you.”

Orisa glanced down, “I am doing this for Lady Efi,” she said, snapping an oatcake in half, “I want to believe in the world she believes in... but she is young and idealistic, and I know, being older, you have a greater understanding of just how much stands in your way.” She took a bite of her oatcake and chewed.

“I won’t let her down,” Mercy said, her eyes fierce, gulping down her own mug of goat’s milk.

“Intention and execution can be two very different things,” said Orisa.

“...well,” said Mercy, standing up, “We’ll set deeds to words, then. We’ll get out before our lordling wakes up. You finish breakfast and get your armor on, and I’ll saddle Dynast.” Her hands balled into fists with determination. “I’m already packed.”

Orisa gave a short huff through her nostrils. “That may be your most practical suggestion since this whole quest started.”

Mercy beamed before slipping out the door.

Mercy grabbed her satchel from her room and made her way to the stair leading down to the inn’s ground floor, humming. She froze at the sight of a dark haired figure on the stairs, his hand braced against the wall and his body tensed. Unthinkingly, her foot made contact with the first step and it creaked beneath her weight, and the figure on the stairs flinched at the sound and looked sharply over his shoulder at her.

Genji. He was awake. How was he awake already?! There was still a weary shine to his eyes, he still wasn’t back to full strength from his injuries, but there was an alertness in his stance that filled her with dread.

“My--?” she nearly started saying, ‘My Lord?’ but he put a finger to his lips and she quieted herself as she craned her neck to try and see what he was seeing.

“I’m only asking if you saw someone bearing a standard with two dragons on it,” A woman dressed in black and white with white hair--Lysene, perhaps--was addressing the innkeeper. Behind her were three men, of equal height, too lean to be highborn, the lower halves of their faces obscured by yellow cloth. Mercy would have tried to identify the sigils on their tunics but her own fear at being seen forced her to draw back behind Genji.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss who’s currently staying here,” said the innkeep.

There was the hard metallic ting of a dagger piercing wood and a long period of silence.

“...as innkeep it is my duty to assure my patrons safety so long as they are under my roof,” said the innkeeper, “You want to wait for them on the road, you can wait for them on the road. But there’ll be no bloodshed here.”

“A woman of business,” said the Lysene woman. There was the clink of coins in a sack hitting the wood next, and both Mercy and Genji tensed.

“...They’ve paid, too. And my service they’ll have,” said the innkeeper.

There was the sound of steel being drawn and Mercy’s breath caught in her throat.

“...leave her,” said the Lysene woman, “We’ll get what we need, with or without her.”

Silently, a bead of sweat quivering down his temple, Genji slowly backed up the stairs. Mercy tried to follow suit as silently as she could, but then one stair creaked loudly beneath her foot and the Lysene woman’s head swiveled sharply to the stairs.

“Go—Go!” Genji hissed under his breath as they both rushed back up the stairs.

“Septa—?” Orisa was stepping out of her room, holding her sword in its scabbard, not yet belted to her hip, when alarm filled her face at the sight of Genji next to Mercy. “You’re—?” Orisa started but then cut herself off as the Lysene woman and her three compatriots rushed up behind them. Orisa read the situation in an instant and sidestepped in front of them.

“Find another exit,” said Orisa.

“What other exit?!” blurted out Mercy, but Genji hurried down the hall to an unglazed, shuttered window and threw it open, “Genji—I mean—My lord!” Mercy’s head jerked back to Orisa at the clash of steel on steel behind her. There were a few panicked seconds where Mercy was transfixed, watching as Orisa blocked the short sword of the Lysene woman before clocking one of the cloth-faced sellswords behind her with her buckler-bearing arm, dazing him before a hard kick in the stomach sent him tumbling backward and she once again clashed blades with the Lysene.

“Septa!” Genji’s voice sounded behind her. He had one leg out of the open shutters of the window, one arm braced on the frame, the other out toward her. She hiked up her skirts and rushed after him, hearing Orisa’s sword sing and gauntleted fists make contact with grunting flesh.

“It’s one knight!” The Lysene woman was barking behind them, “You fools can’t take out one knight?!” before there was another loud clang of steel.

Mercy felt Genji grab her forearm and she stumbled out the window after him onto wooden shingles that creaked with rot. Genji was already nervously sidestepping across the short row of shingles that formed an awning around the ground floor of the inn’s exterior, before Mercy saw he was moving towards the stables.

“We can’t just leave her!” said Mercy.

“She’s in full plate armor, she has a better chance if we get the horses and she’s not worried about us being in the crossfire,” said Genji, still edging forward.

“It’s four on one!” said Mercy, one hand against the side of the inn and the other bunching her skirts up for easier movements as she sidestepped after him. There was a sudden clatter behind her and her head swung around to see one of the brigands tumble out of another shuttered window, and roll backwards off the awning before landing with a grunt in the mud below.

“...three on one,” said Mercy, blinking incredulously.

“The skill of the Warrior and the strength of the Smith,” Genji said, impressed, “I guess the Seven really are with you two!”

“Genji, the stables!” Mercy said furiously, still sidestepping forward.

Genji gave her an odd look.

“My lord, the stables,” huffed Mercy, another prickle of stress burning on the back of her neck, wondering if her panic in the situation had given her away in other ways.

“...you can call me Genji,” he said, still sidestepping forward, “I rather like the way you say it, Septa.”

“That is not appropriate,” Mercy said, glancing down and blushing furiously.

“Well you’ve already seen me naked, I’d say we’re well past--” He reached the edge of the awning closest to the stables and sucked in a breath, “Oh this isn’t going to be pleasant.”

Mercy closed the distance behind him. “Do you need--?”

“You can barely move in those sept skirts as is--I’ve got this,” said Genji, dropping to a squat and positioning himself with his back to the edge, He braced his hands on the shingles and then pushed his legs out over the edge, grunting in pain as he dropped to a hanging position before grunting in pain again as he dropped to the ground, the length of his own body significantly reducing his fall. “Ah---” his hand went to his side as his feet hit the ground, but he shook his head, “Okay, your turn.”

“Right--okay--” Mercy started haltingly as she reached the edge and turned around but then she heard another groan and craned her neck over to look at the sound’s source. The sellsword Orisa had knocked out of the window was stumbling to his feet, muddy, shaking his head out of a daze, and he saw Genji. He drew a short dirk from his side and broke off in a stumbling run toward genji. Genji followed her line of sight but his injury slowed his reaction. Mercy wasn’t fully sure what compelled her to suddenly leap off the corner of the awning, but there was a half-beat where she felt the cold morning air rushing up her skirts and her arms flailing with nothing to grab before she dropped like a stone... right onto the sellsword with a grunt and a splatter of mud, her elbow slamming his face into the muck. She rolled off him and stumbled to her feet, panting. Genji looked from the unconscious sellsword in the mud, up to her.

“...don’t know which of the seven to thank for that,” he said, his eyes wide.

“Come on!” said Mercy seizing his arm and rushing to the stables.

“Ow--injured--ow!” said Genji as the muddy Septa pulled him into a run.

-----

The Lysene woman fought with both a short sword and a dirk, and her attacks were relentless. But her remaining fellow sellswords seemed to be more of a liability than a threat if they didn’t have the element of surprise. Orisa’s biggest disadvantage was the narrowness of the hallway they were in... if she could just find a way to get her opponents down stairs to the Inn’s dining area, maybe she could more properly maneuver... or maybe that would give them more space to flank her. Orisa had at least successfully backed them up to the point in the hallway so they couldn’t access another window to go after Genji and Mercy, but her brow furrowed as the Lysene woman and her two remaining compatriots kept their blades pointed at her.

“You were sent by Lord Akande, I take it?” said Orisa.

“I’m afraid the answer to that’s going to cost you,” said the Lysene woman.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” said Orisa.

“The Shimada lordling slipped from our grasp before... but we had expected him to die, I suppose we underestimated his house’s banner lords...” said the woman.

“I am under no banner but the Seven’s,” said Orisa, and she felt a surprising strength in what had previously been merely a cover story. To have a sword sworn to the Seven, to defend this grievously injured Lordling purely because he was attacked out of treachery rather than on the field of battle, it was thrilling, it was knightly.

The woman gave a derisive snort. “So I can’t expect you to counter Lord Akande’s offer with one of your own. No amount of piety will make a hedge knight anything more than a hedge knight.”

“...and I can’t expect you to hold to any word,” said Orisa, her eyes narrowing.

The woman grinned wolfishly before lunging forward, Orisa stood her ground, meeting the woman’s long blade with her own before glancing off the woman’s dirk with her buckler. Orisa’s shield and helmet were still back in her room, so she could count on the Lysene to go for the face. The woman kept up her assault and Orisa gave a bit of ground. Her attacks were aggressive, clearly she was trying to use the advantage of lighter armor lending greater stamina to keep up a relentless barrage of attacks, but Orisa remained calm. This was waves breaking on stone. One of her compatriots flanked Orisa only to get a hard buckler to the face, Orisa using the movement to pivot and yield space to back into her room where her helmet and broadshield were. The Lysene woman lunged forward with her short sword and Orisa tilted her torso in its movement to grab her shield. Orisa knew she wasn’t a small target, but the right movements could send virtually any blade scratching uselessly across the plate of her armor--and just in time, too. In seizing her shield, she yanked it up, her arm only looped in one strap, and used the weight of it to slam it hard into the shoulder and side of the Lysene woman sending her staggering to the side trying to regain her footing. Orisa kicked the other closest sellsword in the stomach, knocking him onto his back, only to see the third man in the doorway, pointing a crossbow at her. Orisa froze.

But then, there was a shattering sound and the crossbow-bearing sellsword’s eyes rolled back in his head, goat’s milk dripping down his piecemeal armor and he swayed and collapsed onto the floor. Mercy was standing behind him, the lower half of her skirts caked in mud, the broken top half of the jug from their breakfast in her hands. Orisa blinked in surprise, and even Mercy seemed a bit stunned at the collapsed sellsword drenched in goat’s milk at her feet before she seemed to snap out of it and shake her head.

“You--!” the Lysene woman scrambled to attack Orisa from the side, her attack panicked and messy, only to get cuffed hard in the face by Orisa’s buckler and get splayed out on the floor. The other sellsword, seeing the only two backing him up now unconscious, scrambled to the side of the Lysene woman, shaking her shoulder. “Lady Ashe?! Lady Ashe, get up!” but Orisa was already rushing to the door, properly strapping up her shield and grabbing her helmet as she and Mercy hurried down the hall and down the inn stairs.

“Genji’s gotten the horses,” said Mercy, as they darted across the tavern floor, tables groaning against the wood as Orisa’s armored frame shoved them aside, “Come on!”

They rushed out into bright, damp morning air to see Genji astride Dynast, holding the reins of a large honey-colored mare.

“You made it!” said Genji, as Mercy scrambled up onto the saddle behind him and Orisa swept up onto the mare and they all took off into gallops down the road from the inn.

“Who’s horse is this?” said Orisa.

“Didn’t have time to ask! I imagine it’s one of the sellswords’!” said Genji, they were all half-yelling over the thundering hooves.

“We’re stealing a horse?!” Orisa blurted out.

"Borrowing!” said Genji.

“IT IS NOT KNIGHTLY TO STEAL A HORSE!” said Orisa, her pauldroned shoulders bunching up.

“They attacked me,” said Genji, “Hardly good folk. You, on the other hand, have valiantly defended a grievously wounded storm lord and commandeered a mighty steed.”

Orisa blinked a few times. ‘Oh...I... I suppose I did.”

“It was like something out of a song!” said Mercy, her eyes bright.

“A song...?” Orisa started hesitantly. She tucked a stray braid of hair back, “...I suppose it will be a good story to tell Lady Efi when I return.”

“...Lady Efi?” said Genji, “I thought you said you were sworn to the Sev--”

“To Oldtown!” said Mercy, spurring their horse forward.

“To Oldtown!--Ow--ow..” Genji had punched a fist into the air with excitement, quite forgetting he was still injured. The dew seemed to make everything sparkle. Orisa wasn’t sure if it was the rush of adrenaline confusing the senses, making the light seem brighter, the sky bluer, the air cleaner, or perhaps it was the days of rain before. Orisa rolled the grip of her gauntlets on the reins of her own mare, a bright flare of thrill thumping with her heart in her chest. She looked over at Mercy, her arms gingerly wrapped around Genji’s waist, avoiding his injury as they rode, then Orisa scoffed a little, her own expression partially hidden by her own horned helmet, and her sound silenced by the thunder of galloping hooves, feeling the Inn shrink into the distance behind them. This was a terribly foolish thing they were doing, but at the same time, would anything but something terribly foolish give her the excitement she was feeling now? Were valor and stupidity two sides of the same coin? Perhaps theirs was a tale like Florian the Fool.

Like a song, indeed, Orisa thought with some amusement.

#Gency #asoiaf au

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livlepretre · 4 years

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Hey so this is something I meant to ask a while ago, but I totally forgot about it until like five minutes ago. A few chapters ago, Klaus told Elena he hadn’t slept with anyone in years. Is this a head canon you have about Klaus? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought I remembered you saying you thought he would have been sexually reckless in his very early vampire years. If you do think he’s been celibate more recently, is this because he was kind of a paranoid reclusive for a while there? I feel like what I’m asking has different responses based on which universe we are speaking about—whether that be canon, FE canon, or SWBS canon. Cuz like I could see you needing to add that in there so there’s no possibility Klaus has gotten other women pregnant recently in the SWBS narrative. Long story short, I guess I just want to know if there was a reason for this specific line and how you head canon Klaus’s sex life has been over the course of a thousand years.

oh my God YESSSS I love this ask haha

I think that Klaus lost his virginity to Tatia Petrova, and she was the only woman he ever slept with as a human. (She was also sleeping with Elijah, but I do think she was in love with both of them but Elijah was the one who offered that shot at getting married/having a better life, and Tatia was enough of a realist to try-- unsuccessfully-- to break it off with Klaus, but that’s a whole other headcanon.)

Her death fucked him up pretty much permanently. I think his whole “love is a vampire’s greatest weakness” thing is a result of this tragedy-- this was him turning his heart to stone after having it utterly broken. And of course... also turning his heart to stone in the wake of not even knowing how Tatia felt about him in the end-- was she using him? Stringing him along? Did she really love him back? He’ll never know, because his parents murdered her in the most gruesome and terrifying way possible.

This doesn’t mean he doesn’t indulge his appetites though. He and his siblings quickly descend into lusts of every sort-- their bloodlust and their sexual appetites intermingle, get confused-- Klaus dabbles with women, playing games with consent and seduction using compulsion, egged on by Kol, and even Elijah, and egging them on in turn. His lovers are often his victims, especially in those early days, when he had less control over his appetites and left a lot more bodies in his wake. It wouldn’t be very long before the list included men as well as women, and those early years would have been almost like a kind of frenzy-- a savagery fueled by the madness of the curse, the fact that their lives had been ripped apart by their parents whom they should have been able to trust, by the dark maw of his grief.

I think he and Rebekah would have become lovers sometime around 10, 20 years into being vampires-- the subtext of the show supports their incest-- they’re just too weird together!-- and I headcanon that he would have been the one to take her virginity. It would have to be far enough into their curse that by then all of the social mores prohibiting various cruelties and abominations like sibling incest would have been stripped from them-- they were already delighting in murder, torture, rape, etc by then for some time, slaves to their own damnations-- but soon enough after the turn that Rebekah wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone/had the opportunity to have a lover. I could see this being something that would spur Klaus’s possessiveness-- and he’s very possessive of Rebekah. I don’t even see it as romantic in any way-- I think sex for Klaus is largely a mechanism of control and dominance, and he exerts it over Rebekah, his favorite sibling, his pet, the very most. Any hint that she’s going to stray from him, or give her heart, loyalties, and affection elsewhere, and he uses his sexual hold on her to keep her there, and kills the lover for good measure. (Why just Rebekah? Because I don’t actually think the incest extends elsewhere... except maaaybbeee Kol/Rebekah... well, because 1) she’s the only girl and Klaus is definitely misogynistic enough to view this as a weakness or something he can control 2) she’s younger, and her personality is easier to control than Kol, who is a wild child and bucks authority on top of being as suspicious and paranoid as Klaus, or Elijah, who is Klaus’s equal and whose wrath Klaus is always always wary of.)

So, for a very long time, I think that Klaus sleeps around in a casually vicious way, with Rebekah as his only long-term, on again-off again lover (although, there are probably some mistresses here and there, and probably some witches too, who might last a bit longer, or who might make it out alive), until we get to Katerina.

Katerina. The woman with Tatia’s face. A duplicate, body and soul. She’s the greatest danger Klaus has faced since his turning, because she’s the one girl his heart might be vulnerable to. So he shores himself up even more. Strengthens that wall of stone around his heart, and keeps himself cold to her. He can’t resist taking her as his lover, of course, or keeping her as his mistress while he gathers the resources necessary to sacrifice her. But all the while, even while he has her in his bed every night, even as he’s plotting her murder, he’s seething with fury and jealousy. He’s envious of Elijah, who falls in love with her, plain and simple; envious of Trevor, even, for the same reason... because she is the one woman he wants, but he’s also too selfish to ever contemplate doing anything other than murdering her for the sake of obtaining his power, so she is also the one woman he cannot have. And he cannot ever allow himself to love her, because he will definitely kill her. And he’s furious when Elijah comes up with a plan to save her, because Klaus is also afraid of Katerina. Afraid of that possibility that if he falls in love, it will be a weakness, just like his love for Tatia was a grave weakness. The thing that was his undoing oh so long ago.

Of course, Katerina runs, and Klaus feels this proves him absolutely right about her.

A few more centuries pass. I think with time we see his bloodlust slaked, and more and more of his bedmates survive the encounters. He grows bored, and restless. There’s no more hope for ever breaking the curse, and so his life feels very static. He has nothing to look forward to specifically. He takes lovers here and there, and he falls in and out of Rebekah’s bed, but nothing touches that stone heart of his.

This changes pretty significantly in the 20s. By then he’s suffered a harrowing blow. The family is broken apart, and it’s just him and Rebekah-- really just him and Rebekah, indefinitely-- for the first time he can ever recall.

This is when Stefan joins the picture... Stefan, whom Rebekah adores, but who can be something different than every other lover Rebekah has had-- he can be that missing brother for Klaus-- who is looking for someone to fill the void now that Elijah (and Kol, and Marcel, but honestly not Finn because he’s been daggered for eight centuries) is gone. And because Klaus’s ideas about sex and power and sibling love are all screwed up, and because Stefan is charming and handsome and fun, Rebekah and Stefan’s affair quickly becomes Rebekah and Stefan and Klaus’s affair-- the three of them all tangled up together. And it’s precarious but Rebekah will take whatever she can have and Klaus is greedy for emotional fulfillment and Stefan is high all the time and having a great time having great sex so he doesn’t take any of it as seriously as he definitely should.

Then of course there is the separation.

I think during this long time period Klaus probably continues his pattern of casual sexual flings, but I doubt he really gets close to anyone. In fact, other than Rebekah or Katerina, I have the feeling that Stefan is the only other person he was sexually involved with that he really cared about. That’s why he wanted him back in 2010 when he ran into him again and the timing seemed right.

I guess this now gets into the present-- my feeling isn’t so much that Klaus has been celibate as a matter of choice or paranoia or anything (although, he is paranoid, which is why he hasn’t fallen in love again in a thousand years), just that he is simply so old that years might pass between flings and he doesn’t really notice. It doesn’t seem like that long for him necessarily-- years can feel like weeks at this point-- and he’s grown pickier as he’s gotten older-- someone has to interest him for him to pursue, and it takes more and more to interest him now than it did before.

Like, the show does suggest to me that Klaus may have been sleeping with Greta Martin, and that would fall directly in line with his MO-- we’ve seen him sleep with witches before, and we know that power does interest him. He’s not exactly upset by her death though, even though he seemed to like her-- also in line with how he refuses to become emotionally invested in his lovers.

I do think though that he was sleeping with Stefan in that summer they spent together-- again, Stefan is an exception to the rule, although he’s not in love with Stefan-- Stefan slides into that weird Klaus category of “brother,” which is a gray area muddled in with lover for him-- essentially the same place that Rebekah occupies, but without the same levels of (faint) protection that actually being Klaus’s blood sibling provides. It’s fascinating to me that Klaus would reinitiate the affair with Stefan without returning Stefan’s memories-- it implies that he wanted Stefan’s devotion pure and simple, like making him fall into his orbit again to see if it will happen again, but it also implies a selfishness and greed for Stefan’s devotion, because he wants it focused on himself and not at all to share with Rebekah.

I’m sure there was a wild week or two where they all resumed their relationship when Rebekah was reawakened before Klaus discovered Stefan had been lying all summer about Elena.

My last thought on all of this is to do with Klaus and Elena. I’ve pondered and pondered and pondered why Klaus would choose to kill Jenna when Elena had already promised to go along with him willingly, obviously for the sake of her loved ones, and I had to think he was angry with her and taking it out on her that he had to kill her at all-- because there was a part of Klaus that wanted her for himself, and he couldn’t have her because, once again, he’s way too selfish to ever consider doing anything other than securing his own power.

I suppose this takes us up to the present.

I put that line in SWBS but left it intentionally easy to misconstrue-- Klaus says he hasn’t had a woman in years, which makes it clear that there’s been no one he could have gotten pregnant, but there’s been some subtext with Stefan’s responses to Elena sleeping with Klaus that imply that he has that history with Klaus himself-- I think the only fic I have where I wrote it without assuming that Stefan and Klaus were sleeping together that summer was After the Fire, But Before the Flood, but that was only because I wrote most of it before season 3 aired/before that season 3 promo ignited the Klaus x Stefan alarm bells in my brain. So anyway, in SWBS, Klaus and Stefan have that recent sexual history, and Klaus was probably sleeping with Rebekah a bit before Mystic Falls too, but does Klaus even see her as a woman? Doubtful, honestly. There’s something else going on there.

I’m pretty fluid though in terms of what I think Klaus’s recent sexual history is-- sometimes like in Just A Glimpse, he’s been sleeping with Greta, sometimes the affair with Rebekah and Stefan is full steam ahead like in Fairytale Ending, and sometimes it all fizzles on him like in SWBS.

I do still think it’s hilarious and amazing that the only time Klaus canonically sleeps with someone in TVD it’s because Hayley negs him into oblivion with her (entirely fair and accurate) assessment of his artwork.

#klaus #klaus mikaelson #anonymous #swbs #fairytale ending #just a glimpse #atfbbtf

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complacencyavp · 3 years

Text

AvP: Requiem Revisions

Most of the below isn’t going to be seen or mentioned outside of maybe a prologue for the fanfiction that I doubt will ever progress beyond an overly detailed draft and some snippets, focusing on fan characters. I’m not all that happy with what I have below, but hope it makes a bit more sense then the movie. I am really confused by the timeline of it something I hope I addressed here.

I tried to focus on human character interactions, relationships, and the fall of the town as they preoccupied far too much of the screen though aren't memorable. Let the two who lost their partners bond early on, the brothers reconcile, use the army woman and the ex-convict brother as foils for each other.

The death of the child(ren) and pregnant woman is something that I’d much rather have been implied rather than shown. If you're going to show such things let it have an influence and not just be ceaseless violence. Regardless, I prefer AVP:R to what we got with Shane Black’s The Predator (I am on the spectrum myself).

Gunnison, Colorado plays a big role in one of my fan characters, Andreanna’s story. Her mother lived through the event and though she moved to the cities hoping to escape it, she is still tied to the town. Her daughter, Andreanna, is driven to find out what happened and due to custodial concerns ends up living with her grandfather and frequents the cordoned area frequently which eventually leads to her “abduction”.

The destruction of the town leads to a war on terrorism in my fanfiction furthering Weyland’s, Yutani’s, Borgia’s, and others' progress. She goes on to mention Gunnison a few times with some rather disturbing connotations.

The following is canon divergent with what occurred over a few nights occurring over a far longer period. Once again, I’d much rather have a lot of some of the more horrible scenes be implied not shown.

Day 1.

The Yautja ship crashes in the woods. Dallas Howard, a recently released convict in a case for burglary gone wrong is released. Molly (army mom) also gets off at the same stop, having been away for a few years she is unaware of his history among the town and talks to the other about missing her kid and asks him if he is missing anyone, Dallas mentions his brother fondly.

Sam (the kid, 8-10 years old with heterochromia) and Buddy Benson (his middle-aged? dad) are out hunting deer and find the Yautja ship. Fearing for their safety they flee but are implanted, disillusioned, and lost they spend a night out in the woods waking up and trying unsuccessfully to find their way home. The chest bursters emerge the following evening, day 2.

The face hugger that got shot ends up elsewhere.

Day 2.

Darcy (Sam’s Mother) reaches out to file a missing person’s report, she mentions that they were out hunting deer to the police officer Ray. And that every time they went camping previously, they usually called her every night, if not the following morning. Both parents looked pretty old so Sam is their miracle baby.

Ray, expecting his own child,promises to look into it and heads up to where she said they usually camp, doesn’t find anything and radioed the others to set up a search later that day.

The police officers set out looking for them. Eddie Morales, a corrupt or at minimum a shady sheriff goes and talks to the pair of homeless men that call their storm drain their home. The other cops stop searching at 8, when the sun goes down but Ray doesn’t.

Ray is skinned by the “predalien”. In some deleted scenes the three Yautja, predators, on the ship were skinned by the abomination. If there was an infestation I don’t think Wolf would waste the time unless he did it first thing so I'm skipping over that.

Day 3.

Wolf arrives and lands his ship in a swamp, upon realizing what aided in bringing the ship down and killing the crew. Wolf determines that he is unprepared and salvages what he can. He instructs the other ship to detonate before setting off in search of the serpents tracking their secretions. He findings the across the first two to be hosts and takes the time to close their eyes before dissolving them. Disgusted by Ray's corpse poorly skinned draped over a tree and gives it the same treatment.

Another search party with volunteers is quickly organized (tourists getting lost is common); they aren’t able to find either the first two victims or Ray. Carrie, Ray’s pregnant wife comes to the scene as well as Darcy, both mothers are distressed.

High school drama occurs with Ricky’s keys being stolen by bully Dale and tossed into the storm drains. Show some government stuff going on in the background or at least company with stereotypical vehicles. Only Darcy and Dallas notice.

The remaining three face-huggers attack the two men (Harry+other) and woman in the sewer. The one on the woman is about to implant itself when it is ripped away from her face and tossed aside by the abomination. Given the spirit of AVP:R, their dog was probably “repurposed” too.

Day 4.

Ricky and Dallas go into the storm drain but are spooked by hissing and a “large snake” and leave. Morales (shady cop) finds them leaving and is confused, confronting the older brother after dropping Ricky off at his job.

He brings Dallas (ex-convict) to the “Breakfast All Day Dinner” where much to his surprise Carrie is working, unable to sleep. She becomes distressed by the other's presence and the uncertainty of what happened to her husband and retreats to the back room.

Morales has some level of responsibility in Ricky and Dallas’s situation, and feels responsible for Ricky’s care on some level?

Jessie stops uninvited by Ricky’s house. A bad storm hits, Jessie and Ricky get to talk about how they figured their lives would have been different- her home was one robbed by his brother's gang which resulted in the end of their friendship(?). They flirt.

The fight in the sewer occurs causing the hive to scatter after Wolf kills some more space cockroaches.

Wolf tracks down the hive’s new nest, late at night, but there are only a few present, he also gets impaled in the process. The town's power supply is damaged and begins to fail. Though it’s after closing Carrie stays behind with Richie to try to get the generator working for the dinner. She starts it and heads back in only to be accosted.

Army couple has difficulties in their marriage as Molly, struggling to relate to her daughter, contemplates returning to duty. The power has been out for a while and their argument is disrupted by Kelly (their daughter) who is distressed seeing a monster, she often sleeps with her light on and only has a flashlight, her mother opens the closet but doesn't find anything.

Day 5.

Darcy becomes concerned about Carrie (old student of hers?), not answering her calls, and goes to the dinner- the closed sign is still up but the backdoor is open so she goes on in, it's not pretty. She hears something rustling before she gets the lights on.

Darcy calls another police officer in hysterics. The other police aren’t sure what to make of things but, agree with her that Dallas’s return is suspicious, her testimony put him away before. Unable to find proof, that he did it but, with him having an alibi they don’t charge him despite Darcy’s insistence. Dallas stays in jail on some other charge another cooked up(improper vehicle license?). Chaos sets ins once it starts to storm.

That “no monster” scene occurs where the child’s dad, Tim, is killed and Molly, mom drags her out of the house though bottoms out on a weak stretch of road that had caved in from the fight earlier; heads to the police for aid.

Shady cop goes and gets Dallas’s brother worrying for his safety, reuniting the family. Molly is wary of Dallas after hearing what happened but wonders if it might be the same thing.

Day 6.

National Guard arrives at 2 am the following day and begins trying to evacuate those outside certain areas, it causes additional panic and strain upon setting the boundaries, not helped by Darcy’s fear-mongering at church.

The power in the hospital starts to go out forcing the doctors and nurses to rearrange patients to care for them using the emergency generator- xenos get in late at night.

Orders change and the national guard goes to keeping people contained causing riots and shootings. Shady cop and older brother rob a gun store have their first real confrontation with the monsters. Jessie's ex-boyfriend (show/mention him being rash) puts the group in danger and dies.

Xeno ambush in town.

Day 7.

Chaos and the storm continue though everything is strangely silent and clear, Morales connects with Colonel Stevens who tells them to rendezvous in the center of town for an airlift. Kelly takes an abandoned tank and figures the gov is lying to them. The order changed and they want to keep the creatures contained (where they would be bait). Morales stays with the group (having some loyalty to the brothers), Darcy leaves with another small group to the center of town.

The hospital is a mess, doctors and patients are corpses. The walls are weird as is any cramped, enclosed area, the reception area is startlingly clear. The elevator doesn’t work and thus they have to use the stairs. Ricky is skewered and is still bleeding badly despite the armor.

Looking for bandages they stumble across the pediatric center, it is frighteningly still, the nursery is empty, but they persist and enter into a room with hollowed corpses. They hurry off once one that is intact twitches.

Wolf ventures to the hospital pursuing his prey. His presence pisses the xenos off. Molly and Kelly see the “one with eyes” amongst the halls fighting the others. Jessie is killed by a wayward shuriken from Wolf.

Humans try to make it through the roof but, are nearly swarmed. Ex-con steals fallen alien weapon on the roof seing the other use it. Shady Cop chooses to save the group by pulling a fire alarm, an unexpected surprise.

Wolf and the predalien fight, Wolf takes off his mask and the thing waits. US gov nukes the area- explodes, sets off Wolfs bomb-implodes leaving the area decimated.

Day 8.

The helicopter is quickly found though their fate is up in the air, they've made it out, at a cost, and even then that's not a certainty. Yutani receives the gun.

Other Notes:

Sewers/storm drains are built far larger as it was intended to be the site of the nearby army base though the contract fell through once significant faults were identified.

The bombing is passed off as a terrorist attack with it being said to have been sent to target the nearby army base. The US used this to push a war.

Schisms occurred amongst the hive, with slightly different appearances in build and growth rates across those spawned by the abomination (12 hours) versus those from the face-huggers (18-24 hours). Perhaps there was infighting amongst the sections of the hive hence why there were a few “nest site locations”.

The alien-predator skinned the cop and waited which may imply at some level of remembering, all the more reason why they are terrifying to Yautja.

If you have suggestions or questions feel free to leave them in the inbox.

#complacencyavp #avp #aliens vs predator #yautja #xenomorph #avp:r

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thedistrictroleplay · 3 years

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ID:

TRIGGER WARNINGS: drug mention tw

TIMELINE:

March 17, 1991- Nicholas is born as the 2nd son of Patrick and Elaine Vanderbilt. He joins older brother Peter, and will later be hounded by brother Christopher, as an extension of the New York Vanderbilt legacy of politicians.

Summer 2003-2008 - Nick is sent to summer camp, along with Peter, to Camp Walt Whitman in New Hampshire. When Christopher turns twelve, he also joins the annual tradition.

August 2008-June 2009- Nick long-distance dates Aly Acosta, whom he met at Camp Walt Whitman

June 2009- graduates high from St. Judes Prep in NYC and is Princeton bound. Nick and Aly amicably break up before going their separate ways to college.

August 2009-June 2013- attends Princeton University, ultimately graduating with a bachelor’s degree in Politics, with political economy emphasis.

September 2014- starts at Columbia Law school, alongside Aly who has moved to NYC to attend business school at Columbia. Nick plays hard and works harder, graduating #2 in his class.

sometime in 2015- Nick and Aly blackout and wake up married, courtesy of Nick’s fast-talking, lying his ass off to a judge who is friends with his family.

June 2016- Aly graduates and immediately begins traveling everywhere for work. Nick applies for an international dual-degree program that moves him to Paris for his last year of law school.

August 2016-October 2017- Nick lives and studies in Paris, both degrees conferred in October when he returns to the United States.

February 2018- takes the NYC bar exam.

March 2018-July 2018- UN internship in Vienna as legal affairs intern.

July 2018-January 2021- Ambassadorship in Belize. He checks out a little early after Aly’s abuela dies and he’s traveling back and forth; his attention is too divided and he knows it.

January 2021- moves to D.C. for international trade attorney job. Also begins working at as part-time assistant professor at Georgetown and, over the spring, settles into a home in the area.

BIOGRAPHY:

Nicholas Scott Vanderbilt, Nick to most, was born the second son of Patrick and Elaine “Lainey” Vanderbilt on the luckiest day in the land, two days late and establishing that he would do what he please and when he damn well wanted. The last name Vanderbilt, no matter the spelling, conjures an image. They’re practically a brand. Young Nicholas and his brothers, as well as his extensive network of cousins, were raised to enhance and support that image. It could be argued his grandfather, William, was a cult leader raising young men to take over the world. Every Vanderbilt son was pressured to be the best, to seek their interests as long as their interests were both academic and high-end, and to pursue a political career. Their last name opened those doors, whether it was a prep school Model UN, the right university, or a job. All they had to do was follow their grandfather’s every instruction and the world would be theirs. It was their birthright, after all. At least, that’s what they threw out there into time and space. Nick didn’t exactly agree, preferring to exploit those opportunities with hard work and clear-cut goals -- but he absolutely benefitted from the system and knew from an early age how to selectively keep his mouth shut and manipulate outcomes.

He wasn’t the typical middle child, acting out for attention. He did what was expected of him, but he always did it his way. He could talk his way into and out of trouble, and his energy left his parents exhausted. Just kidding, he wasn’t raised by his parents. They checked in, but he was raised by an army of well-educated and well-paid nannies and tutors. He was always smart enough to excel, always duty-bound enough to show up, and always rebellious enough to do it on his own terms. He grew to have a taste for expensive things, too pretentious to do low-class drugs or drive basic cars, but also with a few quirks. He didn’t quite have the temptations or shortcomings of his brothers – the constant need for women and the trouble they brought with them when any woman would do, the friends who lived off his money for their good time, the artistic side that barely masked an identity crisis. Instead, he was selectively social, even though it gave him the reputation of being an unequivocal snob, preferring indie bands and concerts, craft beer in off-the-beaten-path bars to escape haranguing of Page Six and other such nonsense, and other “hipster bullshit” according to his younger brother. He didn’t care. He wasn’t sure anyone had anything to offer him anyway. Maybe there was something to the ‘snobby’ part of his reputation. As he grew, he realized there was something to the ‘asshole’ part, too, and he never really felt like apologizing for it, so he didn’t.

His educational dossier reads like something in a leather-bound tome, planned out by his grandfather from the moment Nicholas blessed the world with his presence. The only exception is he went to Princeton for his undergraduate, instead of following the family footsteps to New Haven. Mostly, he did it for the sake of being different, not because he cared what the piece of paper said. He had bigger aspirations but made his mark by being slightly different than some of his cousins with their sights on Congress or being Governor. He still did all of his undergrad in politics, emphasis on political economy, and then went to law school at Columbia. While the name didn’t hurt anything, he was confident he got in based on the strength of his academic resume, and he graduated near the top of his class only because he let someone else have that likely last, shining accomplishment in their lives. He doesn’t even remember the woman’s name and he definitely didn’t sleep with her. Or did he? He won’t tell one way or the other, because his parents messed up when they didn’t make discretion part of his middle name. Part of his success was his selective ability to do what he wanted under the radar. His brothers and cousins were just a little too obvious with their exploits, and Nicholas was determined to be smarter and better than them.

Take, for example, the time he got married during year 2, while profoundly drunk in Atlantic City, to a girl from Miami he’d met at a bougie send-away summer camp. He had attended the camp every year from age twelve to age seventeen, and she was there the whole time. They had continued to date through their senior year of high school, in spite of the distance. In addition to liking her, he also liked the privacy of dating someone who didn’t live in the surprisingly-claustrophobic New York world. Either way, she wasn’t an unknown quantity by any means and his parents and grandparents liked her well enough, even if her mother was a bit much and bit too new-money-ambitious in her efforts to prove herself. With the wedding, the real problem was he used his silver tongue to lie to a judge, who blessed the wedding without a waiting period. It left him in a rough spot professionally, because he couldn’t get a divorce and admit to the lies without it being political suicide before he’d even graduated from law school. Aly had ambitions of her own and they split again, like they had during high school but different, and mostly went their own ways. She was young and wild, and he was all over Europe finishing a dual degree in something that was a mouthful to set him up for a career at the UN or as an ambassador, so they only connected sometimes. They’d had a youthful pact to marry each other at forty if they hadn’t married other people anyway, and not bothering with a divorce kept them away from the messy need for a prenup that hadn’t happened.

HIs parents thought the split went through years ago, fast enough Amy Acosta couldn’t start to model the Vanderbilt family jewels, and they’re very mistaken. However, he’s always been good at hiding where his heart truly lies, playing off emotions, sounding flip and sarcastic when things get tough. They think he’s back in the States to move forward, long past the one youthful indiscretion where they have only minimal details. The next planned step in the Vanderbilt legacy is marriage and children. After all, what is a legacy if it is not continued? Now that Nick isn’t just pushing thirty, but is actually there, it’s time for him to turn his attention there, at least in their estimation. It’s on him to continue their legacy because God only knows his brothers, take your pick of an artist or a consummate playboy, are never going to give his parents and grandfather anything to be proud of.

So it’s up to him. After quietly supporting Aly through some hard times, quitting his hard-won job in the embassy in Belize was easy. After his family’s not-so-subtle attempts to force him home to settle down, moving to the District was easy, because he can still progress his career. He doesn’t want to be around the Vanderbilts any more than he has to these days anyway, so New York wasn’t an option. And, you know, maybe becoming an esteemed law professor or legal scholar isn’t the worst idea. It allows a certain amount of flexibility and conjures up a whole new image, even if it’s one he hasn’t considered before.

Nick is written by M.

#drug mention tw #district character bio.#c; nick vanderbilt #scott eastwood fc #pronouns; he/him #residence; upper northwest #writer; m

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ask-the-clergy-bc · 4 years

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Hiya! So in your opinion what do you think it would take for the Papas and Cardinal Copia to open up and be vulnerable with a S/O? Would it need time and trust, maybe an event which caused them to have an epiphany, or maybe they get caught at a bad time and need some comfort? Thank you!

I accidentally made this into a giant character introspection, whooooooooooops!

Ooooooooooooooooh boy, this is gonna be a long one so sit down! There’s no easy answer for me to give without a thesis sooooooooooooooooooooo-

Papa’s and Copia - What it Takes to have them be Truly Vulnerable with an S/O

Character flaw and reflection time! I will warn you these men are all far from perfect!

There’s definitely a LOT of elements and circumstances for each of these Antipopes, so I will try my best to sum it up without letting it get too big! Trust will be the key word in opening them all up!

A super short answer for this would be a small chart. From easiest to hardest to open up genuinely to an S/O (regardless of the situation), it would look something like this.

Papa Nihil

Papa I

Cardinal Copia

Papa II

Papa III

Keeping this in mind is actually really important as a lot of it has to play into each personality and life experiences. Even then, this is a super tight race! They all don’t blindly trust and they all have a level of mystery they NEED to keep about them. So it’s a huge mix of their jobs as Papas and who they are deep down.

There is a reason such things like Prime Movers exist/ Having courtesans and harem members rather than proper spouses. A Papa could easily be compromised by a spouse. With either a partner using them to manipulate the Church, or straight up betraying them. A Papa has to be alert, smart, and VERY VERY sure when choosing a lifelong mate. They have to be able to know without a doubt that they can count on their partner with their very lives and the lives of others.

THEN there are so many personal factors and circumstances that come into play! It’s safe to say that all of them are emotionally guarded in some way, shape, or form. That comes with the territory of being a Hell Blooded man of power. You don’t know who REALLY loves you, who’s using you, or who wants something. On top of that, the emotional burdens of their work, their faith, personal fears, and the expectations put on them.

It can be VERY hard to gauge what really clicks for each of them to trust someone. So, as asked, we will take a look into each of them! :)

Papa Nihil:

If you caught him in his younger years, he might have been more trusting with a serious partner. Not out of naivety or blind love, but out of arrogance. Arrogance that a partner could not hurt him even if they betrayed him. Nihil had an ego to him and felt on top of the world- being Papa and nothing to stop him. Not even a broken heart! To him, the worst thing that could happen with an S/O would be heartbreak, and he refused to believe that was anything that could break him! Well… it ended up happening with Sister Imperator. So after she left, he understood the consequences of his actions and what that would actually feel like. It’s not something he’s too keen to feel again.

As he got older, he hardened. The only one who has really ever seen his softer, vulnerable side has been Imperator. She’s the only one he remotely trusts in the deepest sense, and even then- he has doubted her motives with the introduction of Copia! Nihil learned the hard way that putting your trust in the wrong people can have serious consequences to your life.

That all being said, two things really work with getting Nihil to be open to you with his feelings. First would be his “test”- not something he purposely does to make his S/O jump through hoops, mind you. Consider it an observation period where he sees how serious a relationship can be with you. Nihil doesn’t mind flings, and as Grand Papa, has a willing harem at his disposal. The first months or years with a single partner is him learning about them. This goes from seeing how serious YOU are, your intentions and sincerity, how well you both click, and how close you end up being. That, and making sure you aren’t just using him. Granted, he doesn’t mind the occasional arm candy or someone who just wants to have fun. Those are just the partners he doesn’t put extra effort into when it comes to emotions or deeper mental intimacy.

The second is just plain old time. If you two become serious, and stick by each other through thick and thin- you will learn about him. Nihil will slowly disclose more and more to you. Don’t go crazy, because the Grand Papa is always watching for any hints of betrayal (nothing personal, it comes with the job.) So the more you are trustworthy, the more he shares. There will be a few tough subjects to crack with him, like his relationship with Imperator and his sons. But the more you mutually talk and grow together, the more things work out. I will warn you, no matter how much he trusts you he IS a stubborn old goat and some information HAS to be pried from him- simply because HE WILL NOT ADMIT ANYTHING TO HIMSELF SOMETIMES.

Papa I:

Papa can be very open and trusting with a serious partner, that typically is not the problem. Granted, he’s very analytical so his own feelings are something he tries to approach logically. But that’s not the problem. The hurtle would just be you both getting to be a serious couple in the first place. As to him there is a vast difference between a sexual/romantic fling, casual companionship, and the workings of a true mate ship. The last of which is riddled with pitfalls due to his place as Papa and carrier of his bloodline.

Papa tends to let his sense of duty rule over almost every aspect of his life. He is one of the ‘purest’ followers of Lucifer, and it shows in everything he does! Because of that, he has not typically sat down to consider companionship past his carnal needs and having someone to spend time with. Typically anything deeper would mean something equivalent to our idea of marriage- and with “marriage” to a Papa brings up the topic of possible heirs brought on by the Ministry. When a Papa is heavily involved with someone beyond their casual lovers, the idea of heirs is ALWAYS discussed. The Bloodline HAS to be continued. Depending on the sex of the partner, questions will be asked such as- can the partner become a prime mover? If possible are they SUITABLE? If they can’t have children will they interfere in possible heirs being made? In short, Papa equates “Serious” partners to this duty to sow the seeds of the bloodline’s future.

That being said, Papa would actually prefer a partner he could be open with. The trick is that he has to snap himself out of thinking just for the family and ministry’s sake. Which is self admittedly a difficult feat for him, because he’s always in work and faith mode. That’s just who he is. The other just has to do with how he treats others.

Typically Papa is much more interested in what you, his partner, is feeling. This comes with YEARS of thinking of everyone but himself. Papa has had to consider his flock, the will of the high clergy, the will of his father, the wants and needs of his brothers, and those he considers friends or in need of his guidance. Papa knows how to take care of himself, so HIS feelings are almost inconsequential. Papa much rather let you talk and share how you are than consider himself. It typically just takes a bit of asking and prodding on your part to get him to open up if you two have been close for a long time. Being honest and to the point also helps, as it gives him a moment to collect his thoughts and express himself thoroughly.

Papa II:

Being emotionally vulnerable for Papa II is very difficult. Not because he CHOOSES to be a ‘wounded bitter old man.’ Even though he is very much that AND a known grouch and perfectionist; Papa just doesn’t know HOW to be. Papa does have emotions and he does feel them very deeply when he’s not trying to tough it out. But Papa has never been GOOD at expressing his feelings, even as a child. It’s not something he was in touch with, and not very comfortable for him to think about. Unlike III, Papa II just cannot seem to find it in himself to express his true feelings. Granted, he could put it into words as he is very eloquent. But… it’s difficult.

On top of that, Papa has never been one to let his weaknesses appear. Emotions are often embraced by Lucifer, as expressing them. But to Papa, these are his weak points and he prides himself too much in keeping all his weaknesses guarded. Papa has crafted himself to cover his vulnerabilities in such a way that they play to his strengths! For his emotions and true feelings, he detaches from them; giving him the ability to lead with a critical and objective mind not bogged down by empathy. As a Papa, this makes him an excellent and analytical leader. As a lover, this often bites him in the ass- especially in pursuing any SERIOUS life time commitments. Something he wasn’t keen on doing in the first place.

Papa is very aware of how ‘spouses’ work for the Bloodline. Bonding with a potential mate has always been in the interest of furthering the family, not personal fulfillment. He’s tried VERY hard to keep it that way. And like his father, he is painfully aware of those who would manipulate his feelings. And if we were being honest? The idea of genuinely falling in love scares the absolute shit out of Papa. The idea of being so vulnerable to a person who could crush your very soul, the soul of a demon blooded Antipope, is not something to take lightly! And it’s NOT like he has had any good role models to show how true love should operate…

To win him over, it would be a good idea to show HIM your vulnerable side first. Kinda like when a cat shows you its belly as a sign of trust. LEt him see the ugly side of you, the insecure- but slowly. Don’t hit him all at once with everything. You have to let Papa come to you. It might take a lot of time this way, but it’s a start- there is a reason he feels more comfortable with submission. It makes him feel so much more secure. Also showing your dedication and love through action and not words will be HUGE! Showing him you can be trusted, that you have a good head on your shoulders, and that you have his best interests at heart. Alternatively, if something life altering should happen to him, you supporting him is the ultimate display of your dependability. If you try to force him at any point he will pull back out of reflex. It’s one of the few times he lets your roles be reversed.

Papa III:

Many would accuse his older brother, Emeritus the II, of being the hardest to make vulnerable- yet many are surprised that it is actually him! But Papa has spent years weaving a huge web around himself. Papa has so many masks and layers to him out of fear that sometimes even he doesn’t know what part of him is genuine or not. He learned from an early age that he was the most emotional, and most likely to get hurt. And let me tell you something, Emeritus the Third is NOT a man who likes the feeling of being hurt emotionally. It’s practically unbearable for him. He already deals with a lot of emotional burdens from feeling as though he were the ‘weak’ one of the Bloodline. Truth be told, he hasn’t had the best relationship with his father, either.

What’s worse? As much as he likes to talk about himself, Papa does NOT like talking about his true issues and anxieties. Papa usually deflects in such subtle ways that those close to him THINK he is being vulnerable, when in truth he is being superficial. So when you hear him complain about how the Ministry treats him, or a minor insecurity brought on by an argument with his brother- you are only scratching the surface. And even if he loves you, Papa does not want you to see that ugly, miserable side of him. He doesn’t even want to acknowledge it himself. If he can barely stand these horrible sides to himself, how does he expect you to stay and accept him?

For Papa III, the key factor would be time and patience. But this is further made difficult with his fleeting interests and inability to commit. The natural way to his vulnerable side is by never leaving his side, assuming he doesn’t forcibly push you away. For example, one of the few who know him deeply is Omega and his eldest brother, Papa I. That’s because they have been around his entire life. Either you would have to be the same, or be there in a huge moment of weakness to have him even remotely come clean.

The best (or in his case, worse) would be you being there at his absolute lowest point. When he’s so far gone in his emotions that he can’t even muster up the energy to put on a show. When he can’t bring himself to be Papa, to be charming- hell even RUDE AND ANGRY. The best example would be like if you were around after he was stripped of the Ghost Project and made a fool out of publically. That was such a horrible time for him and everyone around him. But if you are there with unconditional love and he SEES that you love him through every facet of his identity, he will want to stick close and loyal to you. It will take MORE time, but little by little Papa ends up baring his soul to you. He’d be lying if he said he still wasn’t afraid to confide in you, least you up and leave...

Cardinal Copia/Papa IV:

Copia has struggled with trust nearly his whole life, and ALL of his career in the High Ministry. If we are being honest, as welcoming and loving as the church is, the upper clergy is full of deceit and cutthroat tactics. It’s as competitive and dangerous as any monarchy or noble circles. That’s because within it there is a LOT more at stake. Ministry members have vanished or been found dead thanks to inner politics, and Copia has his share of close calls. He’s had to learn to trust no one but yourself, and never EVER let your guard down too much.

Unfortunately, this does bleed into his personal life. Copia has had his share of bed mates and even lovers that have stuck around longer than anticipated. But long term commitments have been very few and far between. And to be honest, he HAS been burned before. From those who sought to betray him to partners who just DIDN’T LIKE who he really was underneath. Copia has buried that hurt and tried to use it as a reminder of why he needs to keep himself until he makes it to the top. Then NO ONE could hurt him the way they could when he was a mere Ministry member.

Copia has always been really cautious around lovers to the point of paranoia. Where he adamantly refused to let himself be weak at any point! He is always good to them, but is just plain scared of letting his guard down. But the difference between Copia and the rest of the Papas is that Copia CRAVES intimate connection like you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes he desperately wants that stability and trust with another person without fear of repercussion. Copia often feels like he can never have it, and it’s one of the few things he wants almost as bad as the Papacy. But he’s never had time or a chance to- far too much to do and too much to risk!

One of the biggest ways Copia ends up calming down around you and actually opening up is if you have been there for the long run. Especially if you two were some type of couple or close BEFORE he was ever chosen for the Ghost project. Copia needs that undying support and consistency to really warm up to you. If you’ve unconditionally been there from the beginning and have not changed since his Papacy, Copia is nothing but loyal to you in return. Copia is a very good actor, but he will still be skittish and reluctant to talk too much. You just have to be patient with him as he gets comfortable. I promise, he wants nothing more than to trust you completely.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #Ghost headcanon #papa nihil #Papa Emeritus II #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #long post #this is long and im not sorry #character analysis

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heauxplesslydevoted · 4 years

Text

Heart to Heart

Missing scene from the latest chapter of The Nanny Affair. My MC comforts Sofia after being publicly embarrassed by her father. I hated that scene, and I hate that Sofia is such a one dimensional character.

Background MC (Luna Stafford) x Sam Dalton, but only if you tilt your head and squint.

Tags: @choices-lurker @paulfwesley @zodiacsign1 @thatysn @ermidc @badchoicesposts @senseofduties @canknot @drakewalker04

~v~

Luna can’t enjoy the fact that she’s drinking her salary in fancy champagne, enjoying a rooftop dinner with some of the richest people in the tri-state area. Any other day, this would be a dream come true, but in reality, she’s stuck in a nightmare.

For the past two hours, they’ve been forced to listen to Paolo make snide remarks on everything under the sun from her nannying skills to Sofia’s business acumen. Luna is not a fan of Paolo Russo. He seems like a miserable, stuffy old man whose only joy in life comes from whining and looking down on other people.

She casts a quick glance at Sam. The always poised and out together man looks as bored as she feels. His elbows are on the table, a finger lazily tracing the rim of his champagne flute. Gone are the manners and the fine dining etiquette that’s been drilled into him since infancy.

He looks up, sneaking a glance at her. An easy grin adorns his features as they lock eyes, and she quickly looks away, heat blooming on the apples of her cheeks. It’s rare that Sam is so unapologetic in his flirting with her, especially in the presence of his kids.

The sound of a knife hitting the stem of a champagne flute is all it takes to pull Luna out of her thoughts. Paolo is standing at the head of the table, waiting on everyone to watch him with rapt attention.

He clears his throat obnoxiously, “Ahem. Thank you all for coming to congratulate my beautiful daughter and her future husband on their upcoming nuptials.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Luna sees Sofia sit up a bit straighter, eagerly awaiting the praise she’s sure her father is going to heap onto her.

“Sofia has been run ragged at Russo Industries for far too long,” Paolo continues. “Now she can finally fulfill her purpose to become a wife and mother. After all, a woman in a position of power in the business world is like an unstable explosive, especially around that time of the month.” The older man turns toward Sam, hoping to get a co-sign on his speech. “Right, Sam?”

Luna clenches her fist tightly underneath the table. She can’t believe the unmitigated fall that his man has. “Did he really just say that?”

Sam turns to her with a mournful expression. “Unfortunately.”

Luna isn’t the only one at the table embarrassed by Paolo’s speech. Sam’s mother Vivian leans over to her husband, whispering harshly. “Mason honey, I thought you talked to him about this.”

“I tried, but you know how it goes with Paolo.”

Luna balks at the scene unfolding in front of her. So they all just let Paolo get away with talking like this? It’s just talk, that they all chalk up to Paolo just being Paolo?

Paolo, the arrogant man, is far too caught up in his own spiel to notice that they’re all openly horrified. He just keeps going. “...A family disarms the bomb! That’s why it’s called a biological clock.”

Luna wants to scream. She wants to hit something. She wants to do anything else but listen to this man continue on with his horribly misinformed and misogynistic speech.

“Finally we’re getting to the good stuff.”

“I predict a Sofia meltdown in three...two…”

The countdown doesn’t have to finish as Sofia all but slams her champagne flute down on the table. The noise startles Luna and she flinches slightly.

“I’ve heard this speech before. I don’t need to hear it again.”

Sofia scrambles, attempting to gather her belongings. Luna notices that her hands are slightly trembling and her eyes are glossy, tears threatening to spill.

Before she can stop herself, she’s opening her mouth, “Actually Paolo, men and women have the same brains. Neurologists have been searching for differences for years, but nothing ever turns up. And this society makes girls lesser than men, which is a gross assumption that’s pushed by men like you.”

The admonishment causes a faint blush to appear at Paolo’s neck. “And what does that have to do with my daughter’s role at Russo Industries?”

Luna shrugs. “Even I can tell she would make a great CEO. In fact, I bet you’ve already seen gains under her management.”

“My daughter’s abilities aren’t in question. It’s a matter of right and wrong. Women belong at home. It’s why you became a nanny, right?”

“Paolo, you are way out of line,” Sam says, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically gruff tone. “I won’t have you speaking to Luna like that.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Luna sees Sofia rush off, heading back into the country club, not sticking around for any more of the conversation.

“It’s fine, Sam,” Luna says. The last thing she wants to do is cause a confrontation. It’d raise too many questions. Why is Sam so quick to defend the nanny and not his own fiancée? “This conversation is done anyway.”

Pushing her seat back, Luna throws her napkin on the table and gets up, leaving behind an awkwardly silent dinner party.

Sofia is a very fast walker, but Luna manages to keep a decent pace behind her, her platinum blonde hair making her an easy target to follow. The older woman heads to the restroom, angrily pushing open the door. Luna weaves through patrons of the club and various waiters carrying trays until she reaches the bathroom as well.

Luna is instantly swept up in just how fancy this restroom is. The lighting is dim, it smells like eucalyptus and mint, there’s soft music playing, and she’s pretty sure the faucets are made of real gold.

It isn’t until she hears a sniffle coming from one of the stalls that she is reminded of the reason she entered the restroom in the first place. Taking a peek under the stall, she sees Sofia’s signature Louboutin heels.

“Sofia, I know you’re in there.”

“Go away,” Sofia orders. Her tone doesn’t have its usual bite or chill. Luna frowns at how small she sounds. “I don’t need you here to coddle me.”

“I can’t do that. My conscience won’t let me leave a sad woman crying in the restroom alone.”

“I’m not crying!”

“Sure you’re not. But my point remains, I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

A minute ticks by and Luna is met with silence. Sofia is just as stubborn as she anticipated, maybe even more so.

She leans against the marble countertop, careful to not lean against any wet spots. “If anyone knows how you feel, it would be me.”

More silence.

“I’m a black woman in STEM,” Luna continues, not waiting for a response. “I don’t know what it’s like in the business world, but if I got a dime for every time a man, and sometimes other women, told me to not pursue chemistry, I’d probably be able to afford your shoes.”

“Really?”

Luna smiles to herself. Sofia actually responded to her! She’s making progress! “Really. I was told to focus on nursing or a social science, like sociology or anthropology by multiple teachers, classmates and counselors. Not saying there’s anything wrong with those fields, I think they’re great, but that wasn’t the path for me. I’ve always loved chemistry. I’ve had the periodic table memorized since I was in 3rd grade. Thankfully I have parents that support my passion, because everyone isn’t so lucky.”

Sofia scoffs. “Got that right. I got my BA from Yale, I graduated summa cum laude and I went to Wharton for grad school, but let my dad tell it, I simply wasted 6 years and half a million dollars in tuition costs. Those degrees mean nothing to him because he’s the stereotypical, conservative and traditional Italian man. I’m not the correct sex or gender for him. In a perfect world, I’d be the perfect song but instead, I’m his fussy daughter. I’m not supposed to do anything other than get pregnant and cook, and how dare I want anything else out of life.”

“I say this with the utmost respect, but your father is a sexist jerk,” Luna deadpans. “You can yell at me for saying it, but I don’t regret it. And I’m shocked Russo Industries is still standing because I can only imagine the HR complaints and harassment lawsuits against your father over the years.”

“There’s no need to apologize because it’s the truth. My father doesn’t respect me. He doesn’t respect women at all. My mother was never allowed to have an opinion, and mine isn’t all that valued either.”

“I thought taking the initiative and getting engaged to Sam would make him respect me,” Sofia adds. “I wanted to do this in order to prove to him that I’m worthy. I thought he’d see that I’m a go-getter, and I’m ambitious, and I want the Russo family to thrive, but he doesn’t care about the business aspect of the merger like I do. He’s just glad I found a rich husband.”

Another bout of silence falls between the two women, but this time it’s not as awkward as before. it’s almost peaceful. Luna still hears the occasional sniffle, but she doesn’t call any attention to it. Crying is too vulnerable for Sofia to be open about.

“Besides, I don’t know if things will even pan out the way I want them to,” Sofia says. “The boys aren’t that fond of me, and Sam is just so...cold. I’m trying to make this a decent transition, and I’m trying to find out where I fit in that family dynamic, but it’s not working. He didn’t want me around for his birthday, he doesn’t respect my opinion on how to raise Mickey and Mason. More times than not, it feels like he’s counting down the minutes until he has to be in my presence anymore.” The stall door opens up and Sofia steps out. Her eyes are bloodshot and her nose is red and raw. Luna averts her gaze quickly, not wanting to draw too much attention to it.

“I don’t even know if this is worth it anymore. I’m exhausted, and I’m trying to sustain a relationship all by myself. Sam can barely sustain a conversation with me, and my dad isn’t impressed, so what’s the point? What am I doing this all for?”

Luna frowns. Sofia has always seemed so...bold and intimidating, like nothing ever rattled her. But looking underneath the perfectly put together surface, Sofia is just a woman trying to fight and claw for every inch of success, despite the lack of a support system.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Luna says. “I think you’re smart, and I think you’d make an excellent CEO of Russo Industries. And I don’t think you need Sam at your side to do so.”

That shocks Sofia. Her eyebrows shoot up past her hairline at the compliment. “You really think so? You have that much faith in me?”

Luna doesn’t know if she’s giving Sofia this advice because she truly believes in it, or if a selfish part of her wants the other woman to leave Sam alone, so they can finally be together. Her stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought, full of guilt. Does this count as manipulation?

She swallows thickly, pushing down whatever guilt is trying to bubble to the surface and nods. “I do. You don’t need a man to be successful and fulfilled. You don’t need your dad’s approval. And you don’t need to feed into the bullshit cycle of misogyny that your dad perpetuates.”

Sofia walks over to the sink and turns the faucet. After she splashes cool water on her face, she turns back to Luna. “Thank you, I guess. No one has ever talked to my dad the way you did, especially not in defense of me. And thank you for coming in here.”

“You’re welcome. Even the rich and powerful Sofia Russos of the world need 5 minutes to vent and cry.”

“Never mention to anyone that you’ve seen me like this,” Sofia orders sharply. No one, especially people in New York high society, can know that the ice queen herself shows emotion.

“What happens in the ladies’ room, stays in the ladies’ room. Scout’s honor.”

“Good.” Sofia sighs and straightens herself up. Luna watches the cool facade slip back into place as Sofia fixes her makeup and runs a brush through her hair. Sofia is back to being the poised, elegant woman everyone knows.

Once she’s done, she straightens out her clothes and heads to the door. Hesitating, Sofia lingers by the door. She turns back to Luna, her eyes softer than the younger woman has ever seen them. “You know what? Maybe I misjudged you. You aren’t as bad as I originally thought.”

A soft smile tugs on the corner of Luna’s mouth. “That’s high praise coming from you. I’ll take it.”

Without another word, Sofia sweeps out of the restroom, leaving Luna all alone, the sound of her heels clicking against the floors now an echo. With the presence of the other woman no longer stifling her, Luna lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding in.

She didn’t know what to expect coming in here to comfort Sofia, but now everything feels much more complicated.

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #the nanny affair #tna #sofia russo #sam dalton #pixelberry

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fluorescentpipedream · 4 years

Photo

A couple of new updates on older characters and one newer one.

First we’ll start with the new one:

Arthur Powell - Arthur was born with a cleft palette when he was an infant though after several corrective surgeries before the age of 4 he was relatively normal, aside from the scar on his upper lip. Arthur was the first born to David and Suzette Powell (guessing on the names, @fat-and-nerdygirl if you wanna change them, go for it) after Suzette’s husband died in a tragic car accident in New Orleans and she remarried Mr. Powell. She already had one son from the previous marriage, Rob, who decided to keep his father’s last name, Whittaker. It was never really a source of contention between him and Powell, since Robert still had a few memories of his father left and wanted to hold onto the name. Anyhow...Arthur was 9 years old when he was helping his older brother Rob, their father and his two younger brothers work on a tree house they were setting up in the yard when he lost his footing climbing down the wooden planks hammered into the tree to serve as a ladder and fell from several feet up. The fall -should- have killed him, however by some stroke of luck Arthur survived, though suffered a pretty traumatic brain injury. This caused Arthur to lose, among other things, control over his emotional reactions to situations and develop Pseudobulbar affect, which causes him to randomly burst out in fits of uncontrollable laughing (or crying, though he seems to laugh more than anything). In the years following the accident, Arthur had to relearn most basic motor skills and ended up with the mental capacity of a younger child than he was. When he was 14, the Powells adopted Frankie into their lives and while it was a bit of an adjustment having a baby in the home, Arthur seemed to take over a very protective stance over his baby sister.

Currently, Arthur is living in a semi-assisted living facility where he has most control over his own life but as he’s approaching 40, he’s looking to move out of the home and into an apartment building owned by his parents and currently being lived in by his little sister. He used to work in the local library but took a job shortly after managing to graduate a local art school program at his fathers’ office building where he mostly sorts mail and keeps the files organized. Arthur has a bit of a learning disability, which is to be expected, all things considered but the accident could have paralyzed him, so he’s doing much better now than most people would have given him credit for. He also has an emotional support dog named Isabella:

He got her about two years ago to help him prepare for moving out of his facility. In addition to his medications he also has a medical marijuana card which he uses to buy pre-rolled cigarettes, they stimulate his appetite since a few of his meds usually leave him without a lot of desire to eat, and can sometimes calm the laughter when it gets too serious.

-----

In looking for pictures of Arthur, we also wound up revisiting the Gotham-esque role play my wife and I came up with years ago and in doing so, brought in some of the old characters from it. I updated a few of them.

The first, of course, is the Joker or Arthur Fleck. Following the death of Batman (supposedly at the hands of Superman but there’s some mystery around those circumstances), Fleck allowed himself to be captured, stating there was little need for him to continue as the Bat was gone and Gotham was ready to return to the state it had been in before he started terrorizing its citizens in the first place. Believing he had been the spark that had ignited the fire in the city (and who’s to say he wasn’t really?) he was willing to sit back and watch it burn. When Batman “comes back from the dead” he orchestrates a rather grand escape of himself and several of the other head villains, looking to maintain the current state of the city. “Who are either of us...the Bat and I, without one another?” From what I also know, Fleck was Bruce’s half-brother as well.

Next up is Johnathan Crane, or the Scarecrow. A clinical psychologist and professor at Gotham University, Crane is slightly obsessed when it comes to the subject of fear as a control mechanism and of what fear does to the human body and mind. In the course of his studies he’s created a neurotoxin which when released into the air, or pushed through the waters can cause intense fear and hallucinations, often bringing an individual’s worst fears to the front and forcing them to deal with them. The effects only last a couple of hours but in that time people who have been exposed to it have often caused harm to themselves or others. Crane recently funded a so-called Psychological experiment using human test subjects where he studied the effects of his toxin on a group of 10 to 20 people, varying age and gender, to see what would happen. Each of the people involved were compensated for their time, and several had to be paid a bit more so as not to send up red flags to the University over what they experienced.

Harvey Dent - former senator of Gotham City, he was horribly disfigured when a bomb set off by some of the Jokers’ men robbed a gala he was attending, following the “death” of the Bat (I think this was probably one of the reasons that Victoria Wayne took up her father’s mantle, seeing that the evil was still in the world, and without her father there to keep it under control it would run rampant and destroy perfectly good people’s lives) Of course, Dent wasn’t exactly a stand-up individual, having been into nuclear testing and toxic waste dumping all while having a kind smile and trusting face that lured in more people to follow his platform. He originally wanted to see the “monsters of Gotham” take responsibility for their actions and not just shove them away in Arkham Asylum but actually rid the world of them for good. When he awakens from the blast and discovers he is now a disfigured, scarred “freak” he is incensed and turns from the political side of things to a more nefarious direction, meaning to not just join the monsters he used to so fervently want to annihilate but to lead them. He and Fleck butt heads quite a bit, as he feels he is superior to Fleck, though the Joker has other things in mind for Two-Face.

Bryce Isley - Only “son” of Pamela Isley, otherwise known as Poison Ivy. Bryce was actually created using her DNA, egg and Bane’s sperm during a testing period in order to create a hybrid metahuman. When Pamela found out what had happened to create him, she took the infant from the lab and took him to Bruce Wayne, begging her former employee to help her. Bryce already possessed powers similar to his mother’s and unimaginable intelligence like that of his father, and in an effort to give Ivy some relief at the end of her days, Bruce agreed to take the child. Until he was 15, Bryce grew up in Wayne manor, beside Bruce’s daughter Victoria, but when he started exhibiting his powers and his inability to properly control them, Bruce sent him to work with Diana Prince, so that she may help him hone his power and not use them for evil. Bryce returns to Gotham following Bruce Wayne’s death but is a completely different person from the one who had left the city. He found out the truth of his existence, that he’s not so much a human as a test subject and that’s sparked some anger in him.

Jared Joachim - Jared always had a hunch that there was something more to Bruce Wayne and when he was about 12 or 13 he snuck down into the Bat Cave and found out the truth. Promising to keep the secret, he began pursuing a career in engineering and mechanics, wanting more than anything to work with Batman and make new gadgets for him. After his father’s unfortunate death in Wayne Manor, supposedly at the hands of Batman himself, Jared lost his way and instead started working to make himself weapons and things that he could use to take revenge on Batman. When he returns to the states from Japan where he had been training in order to become strong enough to carry out his plan he finds out that Bruce has been killed and his daughter is now in control of the family business. He assumes that she is also going to take up the mantle of Batman but since he always loved Victoria, he cannot bring himself to do it.

Alfred Pennyworth - Alfred has been the butler for the Wayne family since Bruce was a young man and has watched him grow and change into the man he became, as well as watch over his daughter Victoria. He’s not just an “old man” as so many people believe but has been the mastermind behind the suit, the vehicles and most of the weapons, believing that it is still his mission to serve the family no matter how that turns out. When Jared rejoins them, Alfred begins using the younger man for his ideas and between the two of them, they prepare Victoria to deal with the villains “Collective”

@musesnotebook

#Tom Mison #Joaquin Phoenix #Joker #Two-face #Scarecrow #role play #Poison Ivy #Norman reedus #tom ellis #david tennant #jeremy irons #alfred pennyworth

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heartisntherightplace · 4 years

Text

Essays: Loving with Borderline Personality Disorder

Hi friends. I wrote an essay on my personal struggles with mental illness. I hope you will give it a read. I know everyone is going through a hard time right now, but just some insight into what it is like struggling with mental illness. Thank you <3

Essays: Loving with Borderline Personality Disorder

Ever since I was a young girl, I didn’t know who I was. Now, you may be thinking, everyone goes through an identity crisis, but my struggle was deeper and has followed me from childhood until adulthood. Countless flimsy identity changes, from wanting to be a singer, to my discovery of spirituality, crystals, incantations, all manifestations of my struggle to find my purpose in life. A perpetual emptiness that leaves me now filling the void I feel with material things. However, as confused as I was, one dream remained true since I was a little girl, the desire to feel an everlasting love, to be wanted. I would listen to love songs, sing along, but never understood the true meaning. My voice would echo back the lyrics, but I could never get my soul to understand the words, as it was something I never experienced before. Some believe, we must love ourselves first to experience true love. This mantra alienated me though, I have always hated myself. Saw my flaws for what they were. In following this saying, I thought I could never experience love then, as my search for self-identity and self-love would be a life long struggle, I would miss out on this opportunity. I came to terms with this, settled for whatever I could get to grasp this feeling of what I thought love was. Countless self-sabotaging scenarios, where I settled for friends with benefits situations just so I could feel wanted by another, allowing my body to be used as an outlet for someone else’s carnal desires just so I could have a taste of what they meant in love songs. Growing up, as all my friends were experiencing their first kisses, first boyfriends, first dates, I sat on the sideline, waiting for my turn, wondering when was it my turn?

Then something changed. At the age of 23 I was fortunate enough to meet someone, to experience my first great love. We met in the most unusual of circumstances. In a friends with benefits situation, I had seen him before. He was the friend of someone I was seeing casually at the time, but I remembered him. As I was aimlessly scrolling through tinder one day, I saw his face and I took a chance, something inside me instantly recognized him. I swiped right and we matched. This began our courtship. I pursued him out of curiosity and a desire to know him. Our relationship was not perfect. From a trip that brought the whole relationship into question, to fights and frustrations about my internal struggles, but what I felt was a true love. The kind I had always dreamt about, a connection that was indescribable. I had never felt so free and inhibited with someone before. Growing up, I had always felt anxiety talking to men, but I didn’t feel this way with him. My soul recognized him, not just because I had met him before that one time, but what I believe was a reconciliation of our souls. That we had met before in a previous life. But, I will get back to this later.

I remember one day in high school, I had gotten into a fight with my best friend and she told me she didn’t know who I was. This hurt because I felt like I was an honest person, but she was right. I rarely shared anything deep about myself. I had often lied about my family life out of shame, always keeping a part of me hidden. I openly listened to other’s peoples struggles, but kept the shadow side of myself hidden. Always ready to be a shoulder to cry on, but never opened about my own struggles. The loneliness I felt growing up with two parents who tirelessly worked to provide me with what I needed. Being an only child, who was over sensitive to everything. Who cried when her mom would leave for work because I didn’t want to be alone. I kept my loneliness inside to create a façade, but this in the end alienated me. As I grew older, I learned to open up more, to share my fears and wants with my friends, I created deeper friendships because of this. But in the end, I often felt misunderstood. I felt that no one truly got it. Everyone would tell me, it’s normal to not know who you are at this age. I believe this to be true, but at the same time my confusion and emptiness was something deeper and more sinister. This confusion lead to various suicide attempts, at the age of 23 I have overdosed on my medication around 5 times, or maybe even more I can’t even remember. But 5 times too many, for someone my age. From self- harm, to stints with anorexia and bulimia, I was trying to find ways to cope with the pain and emptiness I felt that has been following me my entire life. Everyone goes through a period where they don’t know their purpose, but I couldn’t muster up the courage to dream. To dream about what I wanted out of life. All I know is that I wanted to be happy and feel loved, but this wasn’t the way to go about it. Then I was finally diagnosed. I had borderline personality disorder, everything made sense to me about the diagnosis. It fit me.

So back to him. I finally found someone who I could open up to freely. I often censor what I want to tell people about my struggles in order not to scare or trigger them, but I didn’t do this with him. Each time I felt empty and scared, I reached out to him and he was there with an open ear and heart. Never judgemental, he listened and tried to come up with solutions, although I didn’t agree with them all, I was grateful at least someone was listening to me. Despite how in love I was, I was not getting better though. My suicidality followed me and so did my destructive habits that categorize someone struggling with borderline. My impulsivity, my black and white thinking, my jealousy, my neediness, my self harm, they still prevailed, no matter how much I trusted or loved him. Then one day, it all became too much for him and he left. My soulmate, my twin flame, my mirror soul was gone. Who was I now? I invested so much of my time into being in a relationship I still didn’t understand what my purpose was. I achieved my souls deepest desire of feeling love for the first time, but why was I still empty? My confusion and struggles with self-identity ended up driving him away. Who was I now? I’m still trying to figure out.

Being around someone with borderline is hard. We come across as manipulative and liars, but all we really want is to be heard and loved. Our inner child is screaming out, please understand me, please love me but we can go about it from the wrong ways. When he left me, I tried to kill myself. Not to make him stay, but because I was angry and ashamed of myself for driving him away, whether it was purposely or unintentionally. We do this thing where we try to sabotage relationships in order to not get hurt, that way if things end, it is because of something we did, and part of me wonders if that’s why I did the things I did like lie and hide. Borderline is a paradox, we intensely fear abandonment but at the same time push people away to protect ourselves. I thought I had opened up the darkest parts of myself to my soulmate but I didn’t, I always kept a part of me hidden, out of fear, rejection, but this is what ended up driving him away. Borderline is hard for those around the one’s who are suffering but most importantly for those who are struggling. But one thing I can say about my illness is I love hard. I feel everything deeply, my highs are as high as the galaxy, and my lows can feel the pit of the earth. What I am trying to say is. I want to question that idea that, we cannot experience love unless we love ourselves first because at my most vulnerable, I experienced it. What I want to put forth is the idea that, in loving someone else and in experiencing love we can understand and begin to love ourselves. It may not ring true for everyone, but this is my personal experience. In being in love with my person and experiencing mutual love from him, I can begin to love myself. That’s all someone with borderline personality wants, to feel love and be loved in returned. One day I know I will experience love again, this time a love for myself.

#bpd #living with borderline #boderline personality disorder #relationships #love #self love #mental illness #mental health

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