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headlinxr · 2 months ago

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( 瘋狂的 ) HEADLOCK, P. SUNGHOON ، ݃ •

𓏲 ┈─ ៵ʾpassion is a positive obsession. obsession is a negative passion. . ㌐

̼ ̼ ̼ ̼ ̼ 𓆸 TO THE OTHER SIDE ⸝⸝ you are sung-hoon's muse ˖ ៹

𓈒 𓄹 ⊹ , 夫妻 photographer!sung-hoon x fem!reader × ִֶ

𓆤 ; 廣告 IN THE NIGHT, I SPILL THE LIGHT ຳ reader is jake's girlfriend, jake is a little red flag, reader wants to be a model 𓏲

٬ ៶ ૂ 通告 , This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. ༉‧₊˚

៹ 𓂃 HEADLINXR ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ 為了你，為了我 ؛ ៹

The camera doesn't lie. Or at least, that's what Sung-hoon has believed for years, a truth he has carried with him in every step of his life. Through his lens, the world unfolds before him with absolute clarity, a universe reduced to lights and shadows, to shapes and textures, to a moment frozen in time that, according to him, reflects the immutable truth of existence. As a renowned photographer, Sung-hoon has achieved what few can: He has mastered his art with such skill that his images not only capture reality but also penetrate the very essence of his subjects, stripping their souls bare with almost surgical precision.

Each click of his camera is a sigh, a heartbeat, an attempt to capture the elusive. For him, photography is much more than a technical act; it is an unceasing quest for something deeper than a simple pose or a well-composed scene. In each photograph, Sung-hoon seeks to unravel the hidden essence of what he sees: that spark of vulnerability, that fragile beauty that lies behind everyday masks. The faces he photographs are not mere portraits, but windows to the truth, as if each image could decipher untold stories, repressed emotions, silenced fears. In his mastery of the interplay between light and shadow, he has found his most authentic voice, a visual language that allows him, with each shot, to transcend the limitations of the physical and touch the intangible.

He is a master in creating atmospheres, an alchemist of light who transforms the ordinary into something sublime. He knows that light, as elusive as life itself, has the power to reveal and conceal, to create depth in the superficial, and to give shape to what seems inert. For him, each shadow is a promise, and each flash of light, a revelation. In his hands, the camera becomes an almost divine instrument, capable of immortalizing moments that, in their transience, seem eternal. And yet, behind this unparalleled skill, there is a reality that Sung-hoon has refused for so long that he has come to forget it. His camera, which has been his most faithful companion, has also been his jailer.

Because while his art has elevated him to the pinnacle of recognition, it has condemned him to a solitary existence. The dedication he has put into his work, unwavering and absolute, has cost him much more than his time. He has sacrificed a personal life, a life he could never integrate with his vocation. He never had a partner who understood him, nor friends who shared his universe, nor family members who dared to call his attention outside of the studio. Love, friendship, human connections, seemed to him minor distractions in the face of the greatness of his photographic mission. In his mind, there was no room for anything other than visual perfection, the constant search for that transcendent image that could touch the very essence of life.

But while his world was being built through the lens, a subtle and silent darkness began to take shape within him. Each photo he took was a window to the outside, but at the same time, it closed the doors of his soul even more. The camera granted him the power to see and capture everything happening around him, but it denied him the ability to see what was happening in his own heart. In that space where shadows intertwine with light, where the ephemeral becomes eternal, Sung-hoon got lost. He became a distant observer, trapped in an endless cycle of images, but with no real contact with the life that existed beyond his lens. The loneliness he dragged along, hidden within the folds of his success, grew deeper, more overwhelming, until one day, he could no longer escape it.

As Sung-hoon's recognition grew, so did the shadow that loomed over his life. Fame, like a brilliant reflection, mirrored an image of success that the world applauded, but he felt increasingly disconnected, more alien to that applause, as if everything were part of a movie that was not his own. The galleries, the exhibitions, the critics' laudatory comments, the flashes capturing his moments of glory: none of it managed to penetrate the ice armor he had forged over the years. The camera, his tool of revelation, had made him an expert in the truth of others, but not in his own truth. And, despite being a creator of worlds, within himself lay a deep, unfathomable void that even the most powerful images could not fill.

In the stillness of his studio, surrounded by thousands of stories frozen on photographic paper, Sung-hoon found himself in a strange space, filled with foreign memories but empty of his own. The walls, adorned with his best works, offered him a vision of the world he had captured with meticulousness, but the images did not speak to him. Those faces, those gazes frozen in a second that seemed eternal, watched him with a fixity that overwhelmed him, as if judging him in their silence. The gestures he had halted in his journey through life now appeared to him as ghosts of a past he himself had lost. Each photograph was a masterpiece, yes, but also a cruel reminder that he had been a spectator in the lives of others, without truly participating in his own. The distance between him and his art had become an insurmountable abyss.

The studio lighting, which he had so expertly mastered when capturing the essence of others, now seemed distant and cold to him. The shadows he had used to build atmospheres in his photos now enveloped him like a mantle of darkness in his own life. His soul, which he had learned to sculpt in each image, slipped through his fingers like water, like a film unrolling before him, but which he could never touch. Sometimes, at the end of the day, when the last light of the day began to fade, he found himself in front of his photographs, in a silence that devoured him. A feeling of incompleteness overwhelmed him, as if his constant search in the eyes of others had been a way to evade his own face. Why, despite the fame, did he feel that something within him was slowly crumbling? The answer was not in the lens of his camera, but in the absence of a real connection with himself.

It was a typical work afternoon, without any preambles or announcements, when something inside him changed. While reviewing the photographs that would soon be part of his new exhibition, one in particular caught his attention. It was you, a young woman, with your gaze lost on the horizon, as if your thoughts floated beyond your body. In your expression, so laden with melancholy, Sung-hoon saw something he had never perceived before: His own reflection. The sorrow in your eyes, the fragility emanating from your face, the sadness seeping through your gestures, everything seemed so familiar. It was as if he himself, in his bewilderment and emptiness, had become you, trapped in a moment he couldn't let go of.

In that instant, the camera stopped being a simple tool to capture reality and transformed into a mirror. A mirror that reflected not only the image of its subject but also that of his own soul, slowly crumbling, invisible to the eyes of others. You were not just another subject in his photographic archive; you represented what he had left behind, what he had never been able to live. The melancholy of that image seeped into his very being, like an underground river that had finally found its way to the surface.

Sung-hoon was forced to confront the question he had been avoiding for so long: How many times, while observing others, had he seen his own emptiness reflected in their eyes? How many times had he searched in the gestures of his subjects for the humanity he had lost, as if he could find something of himself in the faces of others? Each photograph, he thought, had been a search to find what he had not been able to find in his own life. He had spent years chasing a truth that only existed in the shadows of his lens, without realizing that, in the process, he had stopped seeing the light within himself.

That night, when the studio lights went out and darkness began to fill the corners of the room, Sung-hoon found himself in front of the mirror. The reflection he saw there was not that of the renowned photographer, the man admired for his skill, for his unique vision. It was the face of a weary man, marked by years of sacrifices, of renunciations, of living in the world of images without ever daring to live in his own flesh. The dimness of the room was reflected in his eyes, filled with shadows, unfulfilled desires, lost affections. And as he looked at himself, he saw the traces of loneliness that he could no longer hide, the marks of a being who had been running for too long, without really knowing where to.

It was at that precise moment when something broke inside him. As if a window in your soul had opened, finally letting in the fresh and renewing air of introspection. The camera, which had been his refuge, his lifeline, his prison, ceased to be the only means of expression in his life. And for the first time in years, Sung-hoon began to wonder if it was possible to live outside the lens, if he could find a new way to connect with the world, to stop being a spectator and become a participant. Would he be able to find a life that was his own, without the mediation of the camera?

The search for truth in others had brought him there, to that breaking point. But now, something was beginning to take shape in his mind. Maybe the story he really needed to capture wasn't that of others, nor the image of a distant subject, but his own. The camera would no longer be his only way of seeing; perhaps the time had come to learn to look, for the first time, without filters.

Despite the internal storm that was tearing him apart, Sung-hoon found himself being pulled by an almost mechanical impulse towards the meeting he had with Jake. The appointment was marked in his agenda like a beacon guiding him towards a destiny he could not evade, a point in time that, no matter how much his soul screamed in resistance, he had to fulfill. In his mind, chaos reigned, a whirlwind of doubts and unease that rose like black clouds above him, so dense that he could barely see the light that once propelled him. Despite the years of success and recognition he had harvested in his career, an unfathomable void devoured his being. That void, which neither fame nor applause could fill, was his constant companion, his inseparable shadow. But still, he got up that morning, with a heaviness that crushed his shoulders, and headed to the café where he would meet Jake, his long-time companion, a man whose relationship with life was so different from his that he seemed from another world.

Jake had always been his counterpoint, his antithesis, and at the same time, his reflection. While Sung-hoon got lost in the dark depth of photography, searching for the soul of his subjects, Jake glided over the surface of life, finding beauty in simplicity and human connections with an ease that Sung-hoon had never experienced. Jake was a man who saw life in bright colors, with a cheerful disposition that contrasted with the photographer's somber and analytical gaze. For him, each encounter, each face was a story told without the need for capture, while Sung-hoon looked through the camera, searching for shadows and reflections, the invisible that could only be observed through the lens. But despite their differences, Jake was his companion, and that meeting was a bond that still maintained the appearance of normalcy in a world that was slipping through his fingers.

Upon arriving at the café, the feeling of unreality enveloped him strongly. The bustle of conversations, the sound of coffee being poured into cups, and the aroma that filled the air seemed like distant echoes to him, as if he were looking at the world from the distance of a photograph, frozen and distant. Each object in the place, each face that crossed his path, seemed like a lifeless painting, a static image that had nothing to offer him beyond its fleeting existence. Only the constant buzzing in his mind kept him anchored to that reality, but everything felt like a dream he hadn't chosen himself.

When Jake greeted him, his face lit up with that broad and contagious smile that had always been so bewildering to him. Sung-hoon looked at him, recognizing in him the unyielding energy that he so often wished to possess but never could. Next to Jake, there was a figure that seemed familiar, but he still couldn't put a name to it. A young woman, whose presence seemed to fill the space with a natural light that had nothing to do with the shadows Sung-hoon had grown accustomed to. It's you, your smile was so open and generous that it contrasted with the coldness surrounding Sung-hoon, like a ray of sunshine entering a gloomy room. Despite your apparent tranquility, your energy was so vibrant that it seemed to fill the air around you, flooding the room with a vitality that Sung-hoon felt was foreign.

—I'd like you to meet (Y/N)— said Jake, with a spark in his eyes that Sung-hoon couldn't ignore. —She's my new model and, well, also someone I've been dating lately.—

Sung-hoon nodded mechanically, unable to find words beyond polite formality. His mind, on the other hand, was already beginning to process the image of you. Something felt unsettling to him, as if your presence challenged the stillness he had sought in the photograph. When you extended your hand to him, your gesture was warm and filled with that energy that Sung-hoon had never understood, as natural and genuine as the air he breathed. Despite his attempts to maintain emotional distance, Sung-hoon, inside, was as tense as a wire, with his jaw clenched and his fingers closing around his hand with a rigidity he couldn't disguise. It was as if he were touching something that didn't belong to him, something he couldn't possess.

—(Y/N), it's a pleasure to meet you— he said, with his usual cold and calculated tone, but despite his control, a small crack opened in his voice, a slight tremor that betrayed the internal storm shaking his chest.

You looked at him with a smile that, although warm, never wavered. Your posture was relaxed, completely oblivious to the conflict raging within him. It was a sight that seemed out of place in Sung-hoon's world. In the photograph he had captured the day before, you had been a shadow of yourself, a figure breathing sadness, deep melancholy, as if the world had stopped offering something worthy of your gaze. He had captured that essence, that gaze lost on the horizon, that fragility that so attracted him, seeking in you what he himself felt was missing: A naked truth, almost painful, that could only be understood through a lens. But now, in front of him, stood a completely different woman. The melancholy he had imagined was replaced by a vibrant light, an energy that seemed so foreign to the image he had created in his mind. It was not the sad figure he had seen in his camera, but a beacon of joy, a warm glow that illuminated everything around him.

Sung-hoon, for a moment, was paralyzed, as if time had stopped. The figure of the young woman in front of him was not the same one he had captured. The reflection he had found in his camera, the sadness and depth he thought he understood, crumbled before his eyes. Reality was imposing itself with a force that bewildered him. This woman was not a shadow, not an emptiness; you were the very antithesis of what he had sought. Something twisted inside him, a mix of frustration and fascination, as if the image he had created, the one he had conceived through his lens, was being torn from his being.

Was that the same woman he had portrayed? Was it possible for a captured image to be so radically different from reality? Confusion overwhelmed him, frustration began to take shape, mingling with a strange feeling of jealousy, as if your life were a slap in the face to the truth he had tried to find in his work.

While the conversation continued between Jake and you, Sung-hoon remained silent, his gaze fixed on you, who now seemed an impossible enigma to decipher. Every word you spoke, every move you made, confirmed something he feared: The image he had built of you no longer existed, and he was unable to comprehend the real woman standing before him. The photograph, which had always been his refuge and his way of understanding the world, now betrayed him, crumbling in his hands.

With each breath, a small dark spark began to burn within his being. It was no longer about admiration, no longer just fascination. It was something deeper, something that awakened in him an even greater sense of emptiness. There was something he couldn't reach, something he had touched in his chamber but that now seemed to slip through his fingers, like the light he had tried so hard to seize.

And as his heart beat with growing anxiety, he realized something terrifying: Perhaps photography hadn't given him what he thought it had. Maybe what he needed to capture wasn't in the world he saw through the lens, but in the darkness that hid within him.

From that day on, something in Sung-hoon began to crumble like an old film that, exposed to light, starts to tear and disintegrate. His initial fascination with you, a light curiosity, an admiration fueled by the desire to capture your ephemeral beauty, slowly transformed into an excessive obsession. The lens of his camera, that object he had used for years to spy on the human soul, now took on a different weight, a dark power that seemed to dictate the rules of the relationship. He no longer saw you as a fleeting muse, but as an immaculate canvas, a virgin territory that had to be conquered over and over again. Each click of the shutter was not just a reminder of his technical prowess, but a twisted validation of his need to possess the image of you, to freeze it in a perpetual instant, to impose his will upon you. Each shot was a subtle, almost imperceptible affirmation that what he captured through his camera was his. In his mind, distorted by obsession, each shot reinforced the idea that his love, his devotion to you, was reciprocated, that his control over the image meant control over your being.

The first time Sung-hoon photographed you without your consent, it wasn't an accident; it was a chance disguised as an opportunity. You were sitting on the edge of a window, motionless, looking out at the garden as if the outside world were an extension of your thoughts. The soft afternoon light slipped through the curtains, illuminating your face with an almost celestial clarity. In that moment, Sung-hoon raised the camera instinctively, almost as if the gesture were an extension of his own being. There was no time to think about it, no space for reflection. It was a visceral impulse, a need to capture the image before it faded, as if your beauty were a flash of light that only he could capture, preserve, and, in his mind, possess. The sound of the shutter, so familiar, vibrated in his chest with an indescribable satisfaction, a shiver that ran down his spine. In that single second, something inside him broke even more. The image he was creating was not simply that of a beautiful woman, nor just another of his artistic photographs. It was an attempt to possess you, to trap you, to hold you in a space that he controlled. Through the lens, you became a static object, a being that, for him, no longer existed in the unpredictable flow of time, but in a capsule of light and shadow that only he could decode.

The camera, which had once been his tool to capture the essence of reality, began to transform into a channel to something much darker, a means to impose his will, to create his own distorted version of the truth. Thus, he began to photograph you compulsively, without rest. The sessions were no longer scheduled or agreed upon; they were driven by an uncontrollable impulse fueled by the need to see you in your purest, most fragmented, most his form. Sung-hoon was not just a photographer; he saw himself as a sculptor in the darkness, molding reality, shaping your figure with the precision of his lens, seeking perfection in every angle, in every light. He asked you to stay for an "improvised session," suggested poses with an apparent delicacy that disguised itself as professionalism, but in every gesture, every instruction, there was an insatiable need for control. The power of the camera, the ability to capture a moment in time, became a game of manipulation, a dance in which he was not only the director but the absolute creator.

Each image created was another step towards the achievement of his ideal, an ideal that distorted both your figure and reality itself. There was something perverse in the way he looked at you, a fascination that went beyond mere aesthetic pursuit. It was no longer just about capturing the beauty he had found in his other subjects; in you, he sought something more, something that belonged to him, a beauty he could hold in his power. And, like a painter who wants to capture the soul of his muse in every stroke, Sung-hoon aspired for that beauty to be his, only his, until it merged with his own vision. The camera was no longer just a medium; it had become an instrument of control, an artifact that, in his hands, could strip the woman of your humanity, transforming you into a frozen and manipulated image.

The sessions dragged on indefinitely, and you, although initially immersed in the fascination of art, began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. At first, you thought that Sung-hoon was simply an eccentric, a man trapped in his art, like those cursed geniuses of history who saw the world through a unique, distorted lens. You tried to convince yourself that your concerns were an overreaction, that you weren't seeing things clearly. But as the days went by, something inside you began to resist, as if a small alarm in your subconscious was going off. Every glance Sung-hoon directed at you, every moment he spent in front of the camera, made you feel as if his presence was constantly being analyzed, dissected, reduced to a series of visual formulas that he controlled at will. It was no longer just about capturing his image, but about taking possession of you. Each gesture, each instruction, felt like another strategy to strip you of your identity, to make it fit into the image he had created of you.

After one of those long sessions, you met with Jake to talk about what you had been feeling, even though the words seemed inadequate to describe the discomfort that was overwhelming you. You feared that by expressing myself, your feelings might seem excessive, melodramatic. However, something inside you told you that you couldn't ignore it any longer.

—Jake— you began, your voice wavering, —I'm not sure how to explain it, but... Sung-hoon is being weird with me. He is constantly taking pictures of me, but it's not just for work. Sometimes I feel like he isn't seeing the person I am, but rather an image he has created in his mind. It makes me feel… Uncomfortable. As if he were watching me to decipher something I can't control.—

Jake looked at you thoughtfully, but in his expression, there was something that suggested indifference. In his world, your image in Sung-hoon's camera was not just a portrait; it was an open door to fame. The name of Sung-hoon, so well-known, could be the key that launched your career. What better way to rise in the artistic world than to be under his lens?

—Come on, darling— he said with a confident smile. —Sung-hoon is eccentric, I know, but he's not doing anything wrong. You have to see this as an opportunity. Not everyone is lucky enough to be photographed by him. This could be just what you need to take the next step in your career.—

Despite Jake's reassuring words, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The discomfort you had started to feel with Sung-hoon persisted, growing with each session. Every time he looked at you through the lens, his eyes seemed not only to capture your image but to scrutinize, to penetrate deep within. In his mind, the photographs were not just images, they were not simply captures of a moment. They were symbols of his control, his power, his one-sided and uncontrollable love. In Sung-hoon's universe, each photograph was a declaration: I possess you, I have understood you, I have made you mine.

Meanwhile, Sung-hoon continued his obsessive collection of images. Each click of the shutter was another step towards the creation of a distorted version of you, a version that only he knew and that no one else could understand. In his mind, the photographs wove together like threads forming an invisible web, a space he controlled, where his impossible and unrequited love could live, eternal, beyond the truth.

As Sung-hoon's obsession deepened, his once contained and meticulous nature began to crumble slowly, like an hourglass whose grain of sand never ceased to fall. The darkness that surrounded him grew denser, like a thick fog that took over the room, the air, the space he occupied. Your perfection, so incandescent and ephemeral in its image, was no longer just your face, nor the curve of your body under the soft light of the sunset. No, you yourself had become the very essence of his vision, the focus to which Sung-hoon had dedicated every millimeter of his art. For him, you were no longer a woman; you were a symbol, a canvas yet to be painted, a mystery yet to be solved, and the camera, that extension of his being, was his only passport to that distorted world he had begun to build around you.

The photographer, trapped in his own twisted conception of love and beauty, no longer just captured the light that fell upon you like a brush caressing the canvas. He had become a sculptor of shadows, an architect of moments, a man trying to redraw reality to match the chaos that inhabited his mind. And while his lens rested upon you, his gaze went far beyond the visible, beyond the external appearance that so fascinated others. His eye, always trained to capture the raw and natural beauty of life, now dedicated itself to observing every crack in your soul, every fragment of vulnerability you tried to hide. His vision, once purely artistic, had become an act of possession.

Sung-hoon was not just a mere observer; he infiltrated, like a painter delving into the history of his muse before putting a single stroke on the canvas. He began to explore your intimacy with the same precision with which he composed a perfect shot. In every word you let slip unintentionally, in every sigh that was just for him, the photographer saw an opportunity to discover something new, something deeper. He knew you more than you could imagine. The cracks you had tried to cover with an impeccable facade were now his field of study. He knew of your fears, your dark memories, the scars you carried in your soul, those stories that, had it not been for Sung-hoon's meticulous patience, would have remained as secrets buried in time. He was not simply an observer, but a collector of broken memories, a gatherer of the fragments of your being that you had never shown to anyone.

In his daily interactions, his deep knowledge of your personal life slipped into the conversation with the subtlety of a sharp knife. In a casual comment, Sung-hoon inserted fragments of his private life, as if they were simple, unimportant observations. —I remember that time you mentioned your father, as if you were still seeking his approval— he said quietly one day, while adjusting the lights in the studio. —And that little corner in your apartment, where you keep the old letters... You always keep it closed, why is that?— Each word, each insinuation was like a fishing line cast into the wind, trapping you in an invisible net of your own past, a net that, although as fine as a thread, tightened over time until you could no longer move without being aware of Sung-hoon's constant watchfulness.

For him, it was not enough to capture the light that surrounded you; he had to seize your soul. With each shot, with each scene he asked to repeat, Sung-hoon was searching for something deeper: A distorted truth that only he could see, a facet of you that existed only in his mind. The camera, which had once been his tool to capture the essence of others, transformed into his chain of control, a tool of power that connected him to you, an invisible bond that kept you close, that kept you in his line of sight. And although you began to feel the pressure, the threat of the invisible, you couldn't escape. At first thinking that it was all part of Sung-hoon's eccentricity, his dedication to perfection. But soon, the truth became evident: you weren't being photographed; you were being observed, studied, dismantled piece by piece.

Sung-hoon never resorted to brute force or open threats. He was much more skilled than that. His control was not in strong words or confrontation; his power lay in subtlety, in silent gestures, in the whispers that accompanied each shot, in the way he manipulated the perception of reality through the lens of his camera. He didn't need to say it openly: He knew you were beginning to understand the extent of his influence. Each suggestion, each gesture of support, was imbued with a tacit expectation, the expectation that you would follow him, that you would continue playing your role in the image he had created. He offered you opportunities, but those opportunities were nothing more than carefully woven traps, designed to make you more dependent on him, to draw you even closer to the distorted picture of yourself.

And, like a photographer who discovers an imperfection in a seemingly perfect image, Sung-hoon begins to notice the cracks in your facade. Your smile, which had once been natural and carefree, was beginning to seem forced. Your responses, once so full of life, were now shorter, more evasive. The sparkle in your eyes, which I had captured so many times, was now subtly fading. For Sung-hoon, each of these moments was a revelation. He was not only seeing the woman you pretended to be, but he was also seeing the woman he had begun to shape in his mind, a creation that had no escape. The pressure, invisible but palpable, was his signature. In the tremor of an unspoken word, in the imperceptible shift in posture, Sung-hoon found what he had been searching for: Beauty in fragility, art in oppression, control in broken perfection.

Meanwhile, you began to feel trapped in your own image, a distorted reflection that Sung-hoon had created around you. He, the god of shadows and light, saw the truth behind the masks, and you could no longer hide what he wished to see. The worst part is that, in his mind, you were already part of his creation, a muse that only existed through him. In the web he had woven, you found yourself trapped, not knowing if the exit was an illusion or if the only way to escape was to become someone else, someone completely different from the image he had shaped. But, as always happened in photography, there was no turning back: The exposure had been made, and what remained was a fixed, unchangeable image that only he could understand.

As the days slid by slowly, like a movie advancing in slow motion under the relentless direction of fate, you began to perceive how the walls of your own world, once open and full of possibilities, were closing in, trapping you with a subtle but devastating force. It was as if you were trapped in a photograph that never stopped being taken, each moment immortalized, each gesture meticulously framed. Every word Sung-hoon uttered, every glance he cast, were no longer mere interactions; they were fragments of a story he had written without your permission, a tale in which you were trapped, like a porcelain figure in the lens of a photographer obsessed with capturing your essence, with no voice or vote over your own portrait. It was a story that had ceased to belong to you, a narrative from which you had become an unwilling spectator, watching yourself from a distance that stripped you of your humanity.

In his mind, the perception of time and reality began to blur like the light dissolving on the horizon, tinting everything around him with increasingly dense shadows. Before, your world had been clear, like a well-exposed photograph; but now everything seemed to be revealed through a dark filter, as if the image were taken with a defective lens that distorted colors and shapes. The man who had been, until then, your mentor and companion, began to reveal himself as a dark, twisted, and distant figure, whose influence had infiltrated her life with the subtlety of a rising tide. Sung-hoon, with his gaze fixed like that of a predator, had managed to weave his control over you in such a subtle and meticulous manner that, at times, you wondered if you had ever been free. Freedom, once a natural right, now seemed to You an illusion fading among the folds of a photograph that had been taken without her consent.

Sung-hoon had transformed every corner of your life into a stage where only he dictated the rules. In his mind, every scene had to be directed by him, and you were nothing more than the actress chosen to play a role you didn't know. At first, you had believed that his obsession with you was the passionate fervor of an artist who seeks, like a painter lost in the meticulous details of his muse, to capture every nuance of your essence. But soon you realized that the camera, that extension of the human eye in which he trusted blindly, had become a watchful eye, an unrelenting lens that not only captured your image but also disfigured you, twisted you, and reduced you to a distorted shadow. The light, that sublime element which once revealed beauty, had ceased to be your ally. Now, each ray of light seemed like a threat, a deadly trap in which you found yourself ensnared, trapped within the frame of a reality he had created for you.

Sung-hoon's camera was not simply a tool for creating art; it had evolved into a weapon of control. Each click, each capture, was an assertion of his dominance, a manifestation of his power over your life and identity. In his eyes, you were not a complete woman, but a canvas on which he could paint without your consent, a blank page that had to be molded according to his will. And the most devastating thing of all was that, at first, You had believed he saw you as you truly were, that his work as a photographer had allowed him to delve into the very essence of your being. But, over time, the truth began to slowly unveil itself, like an old layer of paint peeling away, revealing the cracks in the facade he had built. Sung-hoon didn't see you. He didn't understand you. I had reduced you to an image, a figure projected onto the wall, a puppet whose only mission was to fit into the distorted vision of your world.

However, something within you began to awaken. It was a small spark, almost imperceptible, like a glimmer in the darkness, but it grew with each passing day under Sung-hoon's control. The feeling of being trapped became increasingly unbearable, as if his room were an invisible prison, a glass cell that only reflected your own image, as if You were looking at yourself through a mirror that only returned your despair. Every time he looked at you, every word, every seemingly innocent gesture of affection, transformed into a symbol of his manipulation. The casual comments about his past, the insinuations about his darkest secrets, no longer seemed like simple observations; they became sharp knives buried in your skin, constantly reminding you that he knew your vulnerabilities, that he could destroy you if he wanted to.

Each day that passed under his dominion, you felt your freedom fading more and more, like a photograph that, as it develops, begins to dissolve in the water, losing its definition, its life, its color. The pressure that was once subtle had transformed into an unstoppable force, a rising tide that pushed you towards the unknown, towards the disintegration of your own identity. The camera, which had been your refuge, your art, your way of seeing the world, had now become your jailer. And Sung-hoon, the man you had admired, had transformed into the architect of your destiny, a god who shaped reality at his whim, playing with light and shadow like a puppeteer who manipulates humans to his will.

Like a lighthouse in the midst of the storm, the possibility of escape began to become clearer, though still vague. You knew you couldn't keep living trapped in the shadows that Sung-hoon had cast over you. The struggle to regain your freedom turned into a frantic race against time, a desperate sprint to prevent him from completely destroying the public image you had so carefully cultivated. You began to search for clues, to scrutinize the details, to look for the cracks in the perfect facade of your life that Sung-hoon had built. You were like a detective in your own life, unraveling the web of lies he had woven around you, with every word, every action of his turned into a clue about his hidden intentions.

As your thoughts organized themselves, You began to notice details that had previously gone unnoticed. The photo shoots, which once seemed like an artistic ritual, now revealed their true nature: A carefully designed strategy to keep you close, to continue controlling your image and, therefore, your life. The compliments I once considered sincere, the insinuations that seemed like flattery, the intense looks from Sung-hoon, were no longer mere displays of admiration. They had become tools of manipulation, like the light a photographer uses to highlight only the elements they want, the viewer to see, darkening everything else. The truth, like a film that has been exposed to the sun for too long, began to reveal itself with blinding clarity.

Sung-hoon, however, was not a man who could be disarmed so easily. In his mind, each interaction with you was another shot, another take that brought him closer to his ultimate goal: to possess you completely, to break you until only the perfect image he had forged in his mind remained. He knew you were starting to notice his control, but, like a photographer playing with light and shadow, he remained in the shadows, hidden, manipulating every piece of the puzzle without your seeing it. His power lay in the ability to make you feel vulnerable, to introduce thoughts into your mind that would leave You trapped in your own confusion, like a poison silently seeping into the current of your consciousness.

Time, that elusive abstraction that had always slipped through his fingers like fine sand, began to take on the texture of an impenetrable wall. The days, which once stretched like an endless chain of empty moments, now intertwined in a spiral of shadows that faded and dissolved into a whirlwind of uncertainty. Each attempt to flee, each fleeting glance towards an exit that became increasingly unattainable, evaporated with the swiftness with which shadows succumb to light, leaving behind only the sensation of emptiness. In the course of your silent resistance, you came to understand, with painful and dizzying clarity, that escaping from Sung-hoon was not a tangible option, not a viable alternative. Like photographic film that, when exposed to light for too long, develops prematurely, the fate of your actions was already marked, predestined. And as this truth settled in his chest like an unbearable weight, hopelessness began to wrap around his soul, as heavy and dense as the camera hanging from his neck, like an extension of his own being, relentless, like the presence of a specter.

The air, once light and breathable, became thick, like the tension-filled atmosphere inside a dark room, where harsh and cold lights create a palpable sense of claustrophobia. The flow of life, that incessant and turbulent river, seemed to have halted its course, gently moving you towards an abyss from which you could not escape. You no longer fought against the current. The tide of your destiny enveloped you, absorbing you with an almost hypnotic force, as if everything were in its place, as if everything were part of a carefully composed picture. Your resistance dissolved, like an image fading in the developer, when the chemical envelops you and erases the edges of what was once defined. The contours of his will blurred, softening, fading, until the unquenchable impulse for release that had burned in his chest extinguished, fading like the last light of day when the sun sinks below the horizon, leaving only the cold darkness that follows.

Sung-hoon, the man who had been your mentor, your companion, your torturer, and your savior, had taken on the form of a dark, almost mythical figure, a silhouette in which light and shadow merged into an incomplete portrait. Throughout your time together, you had believed you knew him, that you understood each of the intentions hidden behind his icy gaze, like the reflection on the calm surface of water disturbed by a stone falling without warning. But now, in the midst of the silence that surrounded you, you realized that you had been nothing more than a piece in a work that you could not fully comprehend. You were part of a photograph revealing itself before you, an image constructed by a photographer whose vision had transformed you into something even you didn't recognize. And yet, instead of rejecting that truth, something strange began to well up in your chest, like a subtle whisper, a spark of light filtering through a crack in the darkness. It wasn't love, at least not in its purest form, but it was something that resembled it, something more enigmatic and complex. It was a fatalistic acceptance, a kind of silent submission that was beginning to reshape your perception of Sung-hoon.

You had feared it before, that light emanating from his chamber, which you had believed revealed the truth behind the masks. That same light, which now trapped you like an invisible spider's web, kept your soul captive. The intensity of his gaze, that tireless observation that never seemed to leave you, had become the core of your anxiety, a focal point of unease that consumed you. But, as time passed and the concept of escape faded as quickly as shadows succumb to the first ray of sunlight, you began to see something different, something new. Like a photographer examining an image on their screen and realizing that what once seemed blurry is, in fact, a photograph with a disturbing and unique beauty, you began to perceive the complexity of Sung-hoon. The darkness that once terrified you now contained nuances you could not ignore. Each of his gestures, each word he uttered, each glance, contained a profound truth about his being, something that transcended mere manipulation. It was like a lens that distorts the world, but at the same time, captures a raw beauty, a beauty that was undeniable, though incomplete.

Sung-hoon, in his obsession with perfection, was not simply a man with selfish desires for control. His need to capture the essence of the world, of humanity itself, through his camera, was something more visceral, more profound. The photographer was not just an observer of the world; he molded it, took it in his hands like a sculptor shaping clay. And you, caught in that web he had woven around you, began to see, even to admire, that skill, that tireless drive to dominate nature through art. Sung-hoon's vision was not a desire for manipulation, but a primitive impulse, a need to freeze the essence of the moment into a pure image, albeit devoid of all compassion. Somehow, you felt a deep admiration for him, for his ability to distill the chaos of reality into something simpler, more comprehensible. Light and shadow, those two opposites, were no longer enemies in his world. Now they were your allies, and you found yourself trapped in a scene where you were not only the subject but also the spectator of your own existence.

Sung-hoon was not just a man. He was the architect of his world, the demiurge who wove reality around him, undoing and redoing the threads of fate with the same skill with which he adjusted the frame of a photograph. Somehow, you understood that his own complicity in that process had given him the power to transform you. Like an old photograph that, over time, fades and changes, your resistance to him began to crumble like a negative dissolving in water. You no longer saw him as a jailer, a monster who kept you trapped. Instead, you saw him as the creator of a world in which, despite yourself, you felt special, unique. Sung-hoon's control was no longer oppressive; instead, it became a reflection of his own essence, a control woven with almost artistic patience and precision.

That feeling was an amalgamation of fear, fascination, respect, and acceptance. You disliked him, yes, but at the same time, there was something about him that attracted you, something impossible to ignore, something that overflowed the surface of his being. The shadows that once surrounded you now illuminated the truth of your existence, and what once seemed like a prison, a space of despair, now became a refuge where your soul, marked and distorted by Sung-hoon's lens, found itself. The light and the darkness, the contrasts and the shadows, began to weave into a single thread, creating a new reality, a new identity.

Each shot from Sung-hoon's camera not only kept you under his control. It offered you a strange form of comfort. In each image he captured, you saw not only a distorted version of yourself but also a more authentic, more complete one. The light and shadow, which once disturbed you, now took on a new dimension, one in which you found acceptance, transformation. Somehow, you had learned to embrace the image that Sung-hoon had created of you, an imperfect, broken portrait, but essentially true. A portrait that, like humanity itself, reflected fragility, internal struggle, and the inevitable beauty of the struggle itself.

Sung-hoon hadn't destroyed your identity. He had transformed it. And, slowly, as you began to understand the depth of that transformation, you realized that you were no longer a victim of his control, but a work in progress, an image still taking shape under the relentless lens of a man whose art had learned to reveal the deepest essence of your being. Without being able to help it, your feelings towards him became a whirlwind of contradictory emotions, a spiral in which love and fear, submission and admiration intertwined, trapped in a portrait whose exposure was not yet complete. And, like a photograph that is yet to be fully developed, you found yourself trapped in the endless process of its own revelation.

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evilartreblogger · 1 month ago

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Imagine the mental states of some of the bosses in Elden Ring? No matter how bad these people are, I feel so bad for them. They’ve been subjected to the worst tortures any fictional universe can have.

Radahn? Can you imagine how awful it felt for his mind to slowly be ripped away from him, year by year? Even if it made him harder to charm…. Imagine the pure pain. The loss. The worry that maybe Leonard won’t make it, or worse, he’ll kill Leonard. He’ll release the stars when he can’t think anymore. Perhaps, maybe, he’d die at some point from the rot. Of course, maybe, he knew his Great Rune would burn at the rot and keep his body, but not his mind, going.

Mohg and Morgott? The Omen twins. Do I really need to go into this? Imagine, being cast into the sewers and being told you’re lucky for not nearly being killed as soon as you were born. Your dad can’t save you, even if he should and wanted to, lest he face the literal wrath of a god. Your mother hates you, you don’t know why yet, and it’s all scary. You’re around bigger omens, who are angrier at the world than you are yet. For Morgott, he gets to watch his brother’s horn grow INTO his eye, all while horns grow out of above his eye, half blinding both of them. For Mohg, the slow pressure of having that horn stab into his eye, and having no way to remove it without it getting infected in this sewer water. After you get out, the world you loved is crumbling, the Frenzied flame needs someone to gaurd it, Leyndell doesn’t have a ruler anymore.

Godfrey? He’s not allowed to have emotions. Everything he wants to feel, wants to get out, ultimately suppressed by Serosh. He wants to yell, he wants to sob at Morgott’s death, we see this, but he can’t, Serosh took that ability from him. Even if Serosh mourns for him, it isn’t the same. Say he’s a warlord, a general, but he still has emotions. He’s human, just like the tarnished. He’s steeled against losing comrades, not the child he never had the chance to spend time with and hoped to see once more. His wife betrays him for what reason? He doesn’t know. He’s cast away, told to die or else he wouldn’t have his strength back, and sent OUT of the land of the Erdtree.

Take a moment in this horrible world, to think what your tarnished is doing, and ask, how much pain have they wrought? Should an uprising be against them?

No I’m not voting against you destroying the world, i’m asking you to look at it from a character’s perspective. Is your character doing it just for the sake? How terrifying is this tarnished? This immortal force, coming to kill you, and all you can do is hope and prey they give up attacking you or don’t absolutely need to kill you yo reach your goal. Because the Tarnished is an omen of destruction, they don’t give up no matter what you put them through.

The world of Elden Ring is so scary to look at it from within. To know the doubt, to know the eternal pain, the everlasting stalemates, and this force of reckoning that runs across the land causing mass destruction…. Yet this force is called your savior. Wouldn’t you try to destroy us too?

#elden ring #shadow of the erdtree #morgott #godfrey #mohg #morgott the omen king #frenzied flame #mohg the omen #Radahn #starscourge radahn #the lands between #tarnished

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lovelypastelsweets · 2 months ago

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♡{Onychinus' Kitten:}♡[Part #4:]

Sylus Qin X female!Cat-Hybrid!Reader

{Notes:}

This is my first fan-fiction, if you have any tip/suggestions please let me know!In this story, the 'reader' is NOT the MC, and is female(I don't have an issue with males reading, but I don't know anything about guys, and I want to be authentic. If you'd like a male-reader fan-fic please collaborate with me to deepen my understanding of the male-mind)

{Trigger-warnings:}

This story will contain minor death(of random side characters), mention human-trafficking(not in-detail), the experimentation of humans-subjects, mentions past-trauma that includes sexual-abuse(Non-descriptive. Shouldn't cause PTSD, but may likely cause that odd 'cold, dark, heavy-yet-hollow feeling' you get when something reminds you of your trauma) ALSO; The reader is described as having all limbs, having the ability to use all senses, and as having hair. I'm sorry if this is an issue, I'm trying to be as universal as possible, but if you'd like a specialized part, please message me.

Inside a small room; Sea-foam green tiles lining the walls- a camera on the corner of the left wall-, and a white tiled floor. Metal-enclosures with three solid-walls, and a doorway lined with thick bars that intercept both vertically and horizontally, are lined up in front of the right wall. Within each enclosure lies the blood-coverd bodies of humans with a verity of animal features; Crimson staining the white mattress and bedding each of them had, as the color spills onto the floor, and drips from the splattered walls.

Sylus look down at the unconscious girl in his arms; She was wearing a white T-shirt and baby-blue pants that look like those of a American-style nurse's outfit. On both of her wrist there were metal bracelet-like devices that he knew as EVOL-canceling mechanisms. She had messy bed-ridden hair, with fluffy cat-ears and a tail that matched the color of it.

Luke: "Boss! We've finished up!"

Kiren: "Yeah. How do we go about getting the money?"

Sylus looked up at the twins as they casually walked into the room. For a second, maybe two, the twins felt a sting in their hearts at the scene before them; The death of innocent people that were treated as lab-rats, whose wouldn't be morned over- the scene brought back memories.. Too many memories.

Sylus: "The money isn't a concern. The fools of this place and their "Clients" have been causing trouble for me recently. I decided that it was time to correct the issues."

The twins look at each other, sharing the same thought; "Is that really the reason he came here?"

Sylus: "Did either of you see a control-room on your way here? There are cameras. There must be a room where they can be monitored."

Luke: "Yeah, we saw one.."

Kiren: "What's up with the girl, boss?"

Luke: "I don't think she's dead."

Sylus "Go to the control-room and download any files stored there."

Sylus had no desire to answer the twins questions. And the boys were satisfied with being unanswered. After all, Sylus usually knew what he was doing- and if he didn't, his death would surely be entertaining to watch.

[Later that night:]

The hybrid-girl was still unconscious. Sylus had brought her to his mansion, placing her in a guest-room, then sent the twins out to buy her some more appropriate clothing. He sat on a back, velvet, sofa, holding and sipping from a glass of red wine, as he read the downloaded-files on the tablet that was in his other hand.

「Subject name: Y/N.

Hybrid Type: Feline.

Gender: Female.

Age: Y/A.

Height: Y/H.

Weight: Y/W.

EVOL Type: Matter-manipulation.」

「EVOL Explanation: This subject's EVOL allows her to dissolve physical matter, and recreate the object in any location.

Limitations: The subject can only manipulate matter that is known and can be visualize by the subject. The subject can only recreate matter into locations that are known and can be visualizd by the subject. Within 15-minutes of consistent use of EVOL, the subject will experience nausea. Within 30-minutes of consistent use of EVOL, the subject will begin to expell blood from mouth. Within 80-minutes of consistent use of EVOL, the subject will lose conousness.」

「Intake Information: This subject was obtained at the age of 5 from their mother. Further information is classified. Discharge Information: This subject is expected to be discharged within the next 6 months. Many clients have shown interest. A buyer has not been chosen as of the current time.」

「Information Regarding Combat Skills: Subject often preforms poorly during battle-simulations.

Strengths: Defensive position, Ambush-techniques.

Weaknesses: Lack of stamina, Unwillingness to harm the opponent, lacking the ability to adapt and react to offensive positions.

Notes: This subject commonly experiences lightheadeness, dizzyness, and lack of breath.」

「Incident Reports:

Date: Varying, Time: Varying. Age: 6-8:

Subject was a victim of "The Game Incident.

Date: (Date), Time: 13:03. Age: 10:

Subject caused the death of another subject during an attempt to use EVOL during battle-stimulation.」

There were quite a few issues with the information he just read,but he felt alarms in his head about a particular part; "The Game Incident"? He left her file, and searched the name; A new fileappears.

「The Game Incident is a series of accounts where a verity of staff members had conducted sexual activities with the subjects in their care. Security footage of these activities were being cut and edited, and furthermore being sold online.

All subjects stated the same claim of the belief that the activities were a game. All acting parties were removed from HYBE-CO and collectively agreed to stay anonymous.」

At this point Sylus wasn't sure what pissed him off more-

Luke: "Boss! We're back!"

"Flamboyant. As always." Sylus thought as he rose from his seat to meet the twins in the living room. Sylus was momentarily stunned the amount of things the twins bought. On the floor lied shopping bags full of girls' clothing, plushies, hair accessories, shoes, and some hygiene products. Perhaps giving them his card was a bad idea. Sylus grabbed a dress from one of the bags, holding in the air in query.

Luke: "What do you think, boss? Nice, right?"

Kiren nodded in agreement with his twin, both of them were dripping with confidence and pride.

Sylus: "You two are aware that she isn't a dress-up doll, correct?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he spoke.

Kiren: "Well, we weren't really sure what to get, so we got a verity of stuff."

Luke: "Yeah! Plus, it'll be nice having a cute girl around here!"

Kiren: "Buying for a girl, is a lot like buying for a doll, isn't it?"

Sylus lets out an exasperated sigh. This is surely going to be interesting..

#love and deepspace #sylus #luke and kiren #sylus qin #sylus x reader

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hsvh-hp · 1 year ago

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You know I agree with you that fanon paints Lucius as a much worse father than he was and I don't like that either, but do you not think indoctrinating your child into a genocidal cult + coldly demanding that he be the best in class and publicly humiliating him about that ("if [my son's] grades don't pick up, a thief or a plunderer] may indeed be all he is fit for") is bad parenting?

Like I'm not saying "he is a bad parent" or "he is a good parent", I'm very hesitant to label parents (real or fictional) in such a one-dimensional way because parent-child relationships are so incredibly complicated. But at the same time it is very important to me to acknowledge even little things parents can do that can really have a negative impact on children. And indeed in Draco's case they do, leading him to want to be a Death Eater, to seek validation from Voldemort (when he disarms Dumbledore he talks about wanting to be the Dark Lord's favourite, he doesn't want help from Snape because he has a need to prove himself etc) and contributing to his general insecurity and need to be better than everyone & getting upset when he's not, because if he's not the best all the time then he feels really bad.

One big reason I dislike the fanon tendency to make every morally questionable parent an extremely physically abusive monster is precisely because that erases the representation of how the smaller, psychologically/emotionally damaging things they do can still be traumatising.

It goes without saying that there’s nuance. I would never say nor claim that Lucius did nothing wrong or didn’t make mistakes. By mere virtue of holding bigoted beliefs, he signaled to Draco that there were things he could do or be that might undermine his father’s love. To me, it doesn’t even matter if Lucius is otherwise perfect as a father. That small thing, in a kid as needy for love and validation as Draco is, would be enough to have him always on edge and anxiously performing his role as the perfect son to the best of his ability.

My earlier frustration was a pushback against the need to inflate Lucius’ less-great moments into overtly obvious abuse (we are very much in agreement there), as fanon seems to love to do without a hint of introspection or greater analysis. I’m so bored of complicated behaviour being filed away into a thought-terminating box called ‘abuse’, where a sole instance of someone being a grumpy, imperfect dad (the Borgin & Burke’s scene) is all that’s required to put a character on the same level as men who actually do beat their sons. It’s not given a greater thought.

For instance, you bring up Draco’s indoctrination into the Death Eaters, and his eagerness to join. This is a very interesting conundrum for Lucius to me because Voldemort is back for an entire year before Draco signs up. Lucius is in Azkaban at the time, unable to exert any influence over Draco’s decision, and Voldemort explicitly brings Draco into the fold as a form of punishment for Lucius. We have no access to Lucius’ head as readers, but he had an entire year afterward to sit and think about how he failed Draco. He’s a smart guy. I’m sure he could put it together that his bigotry came very close to costing his son his life. Considering the Malfoys sit alongside the winners of the war in the Great Hall, it speaks to me of some greater narrative reflection on Lucius’ part to have earned himself a place there.

The point is, I’ve never seen that Lucius in fic before. I crave that Lucius, who can realize his mistakes and grow or change as a result (and is brave enough not to let the lateness of its arrival dictate the terms). It’s very important to me that growth not be something exclusive to a certain age (16 and under? 18? I’ve seen people argue that Draco was no longer redeemable at 12 LMAO). So yeah, feeling alone in this sentiment occasionally bubbles up and I forget to articulate all the nuance of the subject when engaging with it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#meta #draco malfoy #lucius malfoy

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arkus-rhapsode · 1 year ago

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I want to talk about Crimson Flower and 3H as a narrative

So... after FE3H discourse makes the round every other week, I end up thinking about it for a bit until I realize, hey maybe its better to not focus on a 4 year old game at this point and occupy your time with something else. Everything has basically been said about it at this point and you know where you land.

But this time my thoughts were just getting too strong for me to ignore, so that's why I'm writing this both get it out of my system and maybe just be another voice in the crowd that some people might want to listen to on the divisive topic that is Crimson Flower route.

Now I really hate that I have to put this disclaimer up front, but I feel like the well of this discussion has become so poisoned that I have to before I make my piece. I want to say that if you enjoy Crimson Flower, if you love Edelgard and believe she did nothing wrong and this is the right route, if you are a Black Eagles stan and you genuinely do not have any issues with Crimson Flower route as a whole-that is perfectly fine.

This will be a somewhat critical examination of the narrative choices about the execution of CF, which I feel like whenever 3H, specifically Edelgard is discussed, there is often very disingenuous arguments people make. Which I believe can create more defensive fans of a particular aspect of a story that we should be able to criticize freely. Which perpetuates this never ending cycle of discourse of legit criticism and defense against that criticism becomes drowned out by trying to decouple these very disingenuous claims from legitimate flaws. So I at least want to make it known that I am going to try my best to be in good faith with this post about this tricky subject.

I also want to just say, this is also going to be mostly an examination of narrative. The thing that I personally enjoy the most in an FE game, but we need to genuinely acknowledge that narrative isn't the only reason why people may like Fire Emblem. The ability to form parasocial relationships with fictional characters and being able to experience something the genuinely brings you emotional fulfillment is not invalid. Being able to enjoy fighting against establishments or ideologies you in the real world disagree with through the experience of a video game is not invalid. The same way someone who plays this game for the experience of gameplay isn't invalid when their primary enjoyment stems from the actual mechanics rather than the "logistics" of the story. The point I'm trying to make is that everyone will engage in media in different ways and will enjoy it other ways and that you don't want to invalidate those feelings someone had with their personal experience. So this is going to be about me and my experience as someone who primarily enjoys narrative.

I am just one guy with opinions who is going to layout what I had an issue with and how I think for me that could've been improved upon. You don't have to agree with me on that, and I'm not saying my way is legitimately better. This is all opinionated.

Buckle this is a long one

First things first Im gonna say Im not going to be using any information given in Three Hopes that may contradict what Im about to say. As in my opinion Three Houses came first and does not include the content from Three Hopes so I should think that Three Houses can stand on its own merits and the content that was provided.

Next thing is I want to catch people up on what in my opinion are the points I think CF did for me that ultimately left me unsatisfied

The post time skip Fodlan was too different and felt contradictory to Byleth's role

Edelgard's Characterization in CF in comparison to the other lord's in their respected routes

The role of Rhea

The role of Those who Slither in the Dark

SO the first thing is probably the thing I'm mostly going to have to defend if I haven't lost you already, but Fire Emblem Three Houses as a narrative provides us with a five year time skip in the game that depending on the route will change who is control of the monastery at this point in the war, with each route providing a lord the chance the forge their campaign. However, something I don't think is brought up enough is talking about the liberties that CF takes with their time skip vs the other three routes. Azure Moon, Verdant Wind, and Silver snow all paint a post five years Fodlan as one where the monastery territory has been abandoned, Rhea has been captured, the Alliance territory is split between an imperialist faction and an anti imperialism faction, and the Kingdom has been split with Cornelia making an alliance with the Empire to create the Dukedom of Faerghus as the houses of Gautier and Faldarius hold up the Kingdom.

There are obviously minor changes like Dimitri camping out in the monastery in Azure Moon rather than in the care of Kingdom Allies, but for the most part there is a consistently defined world between the three routes. However, Crimson Flower's post Fodlan is much different. With a grid locked Fodlan after five years with just the church territory falling under the control of Adrestia, Rhea wasn't captured and instead made it to Faerghus, The Alliance is still feuding amongst itself, but most importantly than all, Faerghus is a complete kingdom with Dimitri as King and no Cornelia's Dukedom.

So there are two main reasons why this bothers me.

The first is that Three Houses as a game wants to present you with three options at first, with the idea that your choices will effect the outcome of the war when Byleth returns, however there's enough consistency to imply that this is what Fodlan would be like regardless of whose House you would join, with the primary effect being your class making it to the church for the festival which in turn will make the monastery your new territory for which route. However, Crimson Flower decides to do away with the consistency, implying that the effect Byleth had on the situation is far greater than that of any other route resulting in a drastically shifted Fodlan. So this is more of a problem with FE3H as a whole with the consistency of choice. Fire Emblem has never really had a BioWare style choose your own adventure type of game. There's only one real choice you're given in the case of 3H and that's which house you side with, which you are essentially locked into. Black Eagles is really the only route that offers a choice beyond that with choosing to side with Edelgard or Rhea which will effect who the class sides with in the time skip. The reason I bring this up is that it essentially means that you the player are for the most part on rails for a predetermined plot where all the choices for the series have already been made. So the Fodlan post five years being consistent makes some sense as essentially mostly everything that happened in White Clouds was the same with the acceptation of the class. However, the Crimson Flower one not being consistent and being so radically different based on a game with so minimal choice feels more like an act of narrative convenience. That this is what happened because of a writer fully independent from me the player had decided that this is how Fodlan shall be for this story because it fits what they want to tell.

Somewhere I had once read that FE3H shouldn't be treated as one story, but since its a bunch of routes they're all a different universe. Everything might look the same but everything is fundamentally altered that you should accept it as an independent universe. And I can't necessarily say that's wrong as the concept of multiverses is to create a world/scenario that allows to explore familiar characters in unfamiliar settings and you could say that Byleth effect on Edelgard in picking this universe was just so much greater that it would result in such a different universe.

I personally disagree with that which brings me to my second point as I believe this one is going to be a more philosophical point on game design. But I feel like the effort to make three routes so consistent with each other with one so different seems to deliberately undercut the core themes of the game. Offering you a choice that this is who you get to spend your happy schools days with and it is what is going to result in them returning to the monastery one the day of your return. That is the true effect of Byleth on the characters. But as you play through white clouds you can't change what happens to other characters which will result in a brand new scenario. Byleth's presence can never stop Dimitri from going blood mad, Byleth's presence can't stop Claude from discovering the Immaculate One research, and Byleths presence can't stop Edelgard from declaring war. And that is a good thing for this type of on rails route story. Byleth while a player insert who can help their lord in the future, right now everyone is on a path that Byleth can only lightly change. With the characters acting independently of what Byleth and the player desire. And the post time skip Fodlan is a sign of that. Its Five Years without Byleth. This is what these characters would do, that they were always capable of doing and that is why Byleth's return and effect on them is important. This also gives us the ability to observe what a lord is like now after the war, and Byleth's effect on them but also see what a character could be like without that Byleth effect on them. Without Byleth Dimitri stays mad, without Byleth Claude always flees Fodlan, without Byeth Edelgard... well lets put a pin in that.

The only other true choice the player can make beyond the initial one is the side with Edelgard or Rhea which radically alters her. Which honestly feels kinda defeating in a game that has locked Byleth so much on a path and the one time it can deviate actively alters everything. It just feels very hollow as there are parts that make you realize how great the effect Byleth could have on people's lives could be if the game actively wanted to integrate choice with the plot. But it didn't. It wants to make one early choice then lock you in that route for several chapters then remove Byleth and then have their return effect real change on the future of Fodlan. Except for this one route. Its why Crimson Flower feels so much like an asterisk compared to the other route. And I don't just mean the lack of chapters, but this feels like a route that can only exist because it was the one that the developers bothered to create something overly deviating from everything else.

Which brings us to Edelgard's role in Crimson Flower as a whole. Now lets just get this out of the way. Im not going to be talking at all on the morality/realistic implications of what Edelgard is doing. I feel like the "Is she a fascist/authoritarian" conversation is not really helpful to talking about FE3H as a work of narrative and mostly exists to create a bunch of petty beef. This is also not going to be a deconstruction of ever minute detail of Edelgard as a character. This is an examination of her as a character in the narrative that we are presented. This will also involve comparison's to Edelgard and other series lords and I want it to be known that this is not a talking down to the only female lord in the game as being something "lesser" than her male contemporaries. I believe there is genuinely sexism when discussing Edelgard as a character, so I want to say that I am approaching Crimson Flower and Three Houses as a whole in a good conscious that there is not a "right route." That this is a game that where all choices have their pros and their cons. Because that's why we like this entry, right? That 3H would provide us some genuinely complex lords who were all capable of doing great and terrible things regardless of gender?

That's why I had such a long winded discussion about why the change in the post time skip Fodlan is so important both for narrative consistency, but also just generally keeping with the tone, but also it reinforced that Fodlan and its lords while all righteous in their own way can be dangers in their own way. Well that's when I return to the pin about Edelgard. So first I want to go through how the lords are characterized in non devoted routes.

Dimitri in non AZ routes is portrayed as someone so damaged by loss that his who response is to avenge and fight. To never stop making those pay for the damage it has brought on his kingdom as well as any lives lost during the tragedies in places like Duscar and Remire.

Claude in non VW routes is portrayed as a brilliant individual with a lot of charm but seems to be hiding something from everyone. He's a lot smarter than one could assume and that he has some mysterious tie to the kingdom of Almyra that he departs after leaving his land to the stronger kingdom that has come so far, be it Dimitri or Edelgard or the Church.

Edelgard in non CF routes is portrayed as a conspirator to overthrow not only the church but all rule in Fodlan as she believes the Crest based system is flawed and that the only way to enact systemic change is through a single rule. And while she is aware her ideals have costs, she believes that those costs are worth it when weighed against perpetuity of the crest system.

Now I want to talk about what happens to those lords as you play them in their routes.

Dimitri in AZ is portrayed as someone burdened by loss and his quest for vengeance has led to a neglect for his own health and his own actions. That his kill everyone attitude will perpetuate more loss of those he loves and that he needs to learn to rely upon others. That is his true responsibility as king.

Claude in VW is portrayed as an individual who is outside of Fodlan's system who has observed it more as a third party and believes it can be a great place if people work through diplomatically. He too is not a fan of inequality and racism and wishes to make a Fodlan that is more accepting and able to work through negotiation. While he still leaves Fodlan at the end, this time he has been able to implement real systemic change and make one that is sustainable beyond that of a ruler.

In CF we find out that Edelgard is a traumatized girl who was experimented on for the purposes of Crest Research. This makes her a conspirator to overthrow not only the church but all rule in Fodlan as she believes the Crest based system is flawed and that the only way to enact systemic change is through a single rule. And while she is aware her ideals have costs, she believes that those costs are worth it when weighed against perpetuity of the crest system.

Hey wait a minute, that's the same?

So this is where I get to the most glaring flaw for me in this case of narrative and why I think altering the post time skip so much did a lot of damage. Edelgard is a good character and a fascinating one, but in the practice of her narrative, her character journey in her own route isn't like the other lords. Rather she is "right" from the start of the time skip and with the world altering in ways to justify why she is that way.

Now look, I know right now someone could be saying I can't read, that its clearly stated in the text that Edelgard says without Byleth she may have turned into a complete monster to see her goals through to the end. This is referring to how in non CF routes she is on the backfoot getting beaten back and forced to take more drastic measures as whoever Byleth comes closer to ending her ideals. Unlike Dimitri or Claude there's not really a psychological arc she is working through with her sociological arc. Dimitri's arc is almost entirely hinged on him as a character changing in his route. And while Claude the character is also mostly the same, you get an understanding of how his continued participation in Fodlan's politics is so important as he effects sociological change. Claude also does the less stuff that could be considered questionable in Fodlan. He neither initiates the war nor does he intimate greater conflict that is tied into a character arc like Dimitri. Claude action's through the war are mostly to keep the Alliance fighting against each other with avoids giving one side a greater advantage. The truth is Claude real "flaw" is that by being an Almyra he is from a race outside of Fodlan that is inherently untrustworthy in society so his continued prescience in his expanded campaign is done with changing that mentality.

Now one could look at everything I said about Claude and say "well isn't that Edelgard though? She's not the one who needs to change but rather society needs to and this is you making it a fruition?" And I would agree however, then why did post time skip need to change and not Edelgard? So going back to the altered Fodlan, the Fodlan post time skip we see in non CF routes has what can be argued Edelgard's biggest moment of political conquest, making an alliance with Cornelia inside of Faerghus using her authority and influence to expand and bring over a chunk of the kingdom underneath Edelgard's wing. And this makes sense with what has been proposed before us-Edelgard had released a manifesto to lords that would side with her and become her allies in the war to come. This act of subversion is something that benefits her goals for conquering all of Fodlan. However, this is one of the key alterations in CF's time skip. Faerghus is not broken in half, with Edelgard having not empowered Cornelia over the five years. In fact, you do battle with Cornelia with her as a kingdom general.

So if Edelgard isn't a character who is subject to change, why did the world change? Well there is speculation in universe that perhaps Rhea fleeing to Faerghus didn't give her the ability. But I do believe the most likely reason is that narratively the writers of 3H wanted to avoid a scenario where while Byleth was gone Edlegard may have empowered and individual like Cornelia. One of the most objectively evil characters in the game. Now I won't go into to detail if I believe Edelgard knew Cornelia was a TWSITD or not, but as it is presented to us, she seems unaware. Instead I'll focus on the primary point is where they don't want to discuss that while in her route Edelgard was capable of doing something that would potentially cast her in such a negative light. After all, the point of her campaign is the while the bloodshed is worth it to make a new Fodlan free of crests, she's willing to show lenency to those who bend the knee. Again, an action not unreasonable for her character. However, I feel like this not happening in CF genuinely robs us from exploring the flaws of Edelgard's path/showing us what Byleth's effect on her truly is.

This is compounded by my issues with how CF is the only route in which you have an active choice beyond class. That by choosing to side with Edelgard when given the option in the tomb would result in this much radical history alteration. But also all of Byleth's effect on her not being as much conqueror over the last 5 years was all done pre time skip. That all that change was done at that moment rather than being something that prompted her to return to Garreg Mach where they'd remeet Byleth and then that would get them to claim it as a base of oppositions in their future war. In CF, Garreg Mach is already claimed rather than the formation of the Dukedom with no real progress. So it makes it seem as though Byleth's real effect on altering this lord's path was always possible in the short time they knew them before disappearing over five years. Of course this is again a bit miffling given that CF is the only route this is a possibility. We can't Change how Dimitri will act in the pre time skip. That he will make choices without Byleth even if they feel urged to remeet at Garreg Mach. But in the case of CF, Edelgard has apparently been changed despite the only real difference in white clouds fighting beside her in the tomb and against the church pre timeskip. But that has sociologically altered so much of Fodlan.

And maybe you genuinely believe that one extra change is enough. Perhaps that one extra choice is enough justification for such a radically new scenario. For me personally, I find that unsatisfying and feels more like the writers traded in a level of consistency for this new scenario that greater justified being on the side of someone who is portrayed as a more active antagonistic force in other routes (Reminder this not me saying the Empire route is an antagonist route. All routes are antagonistic relative to which side you are on).

This is where we get my first what I would've done to make it more narratively satisfying for me. Keep the same post time skip Fodlan as the other routes. Keep Edelgard having brokered a deal with Cornelia to establish the Dukedom and have Byleth find out about it. Be some that either Byleth or another character close to Edelgard questions the extremity of. Then have Cornelia do something evil like she's experimenting on people for TWSITD or maybe she's just abusing the power. Then have Edelgard clean it up. Have Edelgard realize that while she still wants to make her dream of a crestless Fodlan a reality she can't just back lords or nobles that are willing to go along with her for more power. She can still keep the Dukedom territory, but instead she'd be now more understanding what it means for there to be a ruler with a noble soul. So she continues her campaign of conquest but has realized that if she's going to be emperor, she can't just empower people arbitrarily.

In my opinion this not only would tie together some more TWSITD plot while also paralleling it to Edelgard's past and how there was no authority figure to step in and help her all those years ago. But now she is that authority figure. And while it doesn't call her method in question and like Dimitri and Claude she can continue her expanded influence over Fodlan, but now we actively see that Byleth has helped show her that her allies aren't just those pledging loyalty, she actually needs to empower those who are good. She gets to have her fight with Cornelia level and this won't stop her from killing Dimitri in the future.

Like I said, this is what I'd do. And in my opinion it would give Byleth's presence in CF more purpose beyond the bond with Edelgard is nice and fun. But also stay consistent with each route. Showing that there are flaws in Edelgard's sociological plan, but not undercutting what her actual goal is. You can still believe her quest is just and the only right one with her taking an active role in not making the mistakes she perceives Rhea as doing.

And if you are still with me up to my third point, lets talk about Rhea.

So Rhea as a character can best be described as a neutral evil throughout White Clouds. She doesn't really do anything but there is a lot of ominous foreshowing and presentation that Rhea may be up to something or at the very least complicit with many of her policies and tendencies. And when I say "evil" I don't mean she's bad (please don't skewer me Rhea fans). I mean that if the crest system is flawed and the church is emblematic of the systems maintenance of that flawed system. Then Rhea as the face/founder/head of that church bares some responsibility even if all she does is passive.

In all other routes, Rhea is captured by the Empire. Imprisoned in their capital. Anytime she is seen after she is characterized as somewhat docile or defeated, having been imprisoned for so long. VW goes a step farther to reveal what she did as Seiros and all of her actions leading to this point presumably all thanks to be imprisoned and rethinking her life over. CF is the only one Rhea is allowed to be an active player, she is now portrayed a ranting self righteous warrior priest who swears vengeance upon Byleth for being the reincarnation of her mother but not being a proper vessel as she intended and fighting against her. Naturally, if Byleth being the potential for the reincarnation of Sothis siding against her is what her drives her mad, that is believable, however much like the altered Fodlan Rhea in this version is not captured. This is now for Rhea to serve as Edelgard's true climatic opponent. With her symbolically killing the representation of the church and the power of crests being slain by Byleth and Edelgard. Its very poetic. But once again we reach my issue of the time skip altering so much in CF.

As stated before, Rhea was presented as a neutral evil, in doing so she's not really a direct antagonist in any route. Except of course Silver Snow. Where she is deployed as a weapon against Byleth. In this case killing the immaculate one symbolically is cleansing the church of Rhea and allowing it to pass into the hands of the new archbishop. However, Rhea in that fight is under control. Rather than be conscious as an opponent, they make her more of a beast without choice. Thus making this less a flawed character meeting their end and rather a forced confrontation by the evil cult of evil. Now Rhea I think being kept a neutral party was ultimately a good choice. We are given enough about her to understand she has done things questionable and should possibly not hold the authority she has. But she also has not instigated any open any hostility. As such Rhea is more a symbolic player. By making her an active player, CF has to make Rhea more domino and more a threat. She can't portray constant neutrality in a war. But by making her the active antagonist, it makes her less of a symbol and more if just a rotten character who Edelgard is justified in wanting dead. And much like Cornelia and the Dukedom, this alteration comes off as an attempt by the writers to never truly challenge Edelgard's plans for Fodlan. That Edelgard has no flaws in her plan and the bloodshed is beyond justified more than just philosophically. Had Edelgard captured Rhea in CF this would lead to some genuinely uncomfortable questions of keeping her a prisoner. And to 3H's credit they were actually willing to make the player uncomfortable already in Dimitri's route showing him as a mass murderer. Once again, I want to express this isn't me saying Edelgard's quest or goals are wrong and the plot should undermine it. This is me saying that for a game that wants to genuinely have nuanced and uncomfortable political choices made by their character, this is the route where they opt to alter the scenario so that Edelgard is the most justified and does less things that one could find objectionable. Flattening a lot of interesting implications this would raise and what Byleth as a force in this route could possibly able to influence.

Now one could again say, well the reason Rhea wasn't captured because Edelgard didn't use crest beasts this time. Edelgard not using crest beasts is a sign Byleth is changing her and thus that greatly alters the future. Once again, I can see that as understandable justification, but again, my issue off only ever being able to effect this lord pre time skip comes in again. If it was possible to get Edelgard to not use crest beasts, then how come it wasn't possible for me to get Claude to have Almyra support? How come I couldn't stop Dimitri before the war? The answer is again as a game the only other narrative choice that could possibly alter the story happens in CF which is the side with Edelgard in tombs choice. And while I'm not against the idea of angry pope Rhea, but I feel making her CF's full on antagonist was almost making a straw man antagonist for your opposition.

As an aside we also know Arundel is still on Edelgard's side and he is Thales so while she might not know his entire deal, I hesitate to imagine he'd stop using crest beasts in the war over the two years Byleth was gone.

If I was going to once again alter CF to be something I would personally find more satisfying. Have Rhea captured and then have Arundel use the same rage stuff he uses on her Silver Snow. This way you can facilitate an Edelgard vs TWSITD conflict AND you still get your symbolic victory of Edelgard and Byleth killing the symbol of the crests and church. Again, Edelgard is able to do what she wanted to originally, but now we are also confronted with the role TWSITD did play in her life and allowing her to rectify it as well as truly killing the old world by getting rid of Rhea and Thales.

And final point TWSITD. TWSITD are bad. They've always been bad. And they genuinely damage the overall story of CF because this is beyond just a narrative choice, its very clear CF as a story wasn't complete. I feel confident in saying that given the numerous chapters missing compared to the other routes, but also the epilogue needs to say "Oh yeah there was totally a bunch of war against them. Totally." I know this point is probably the least controversial when talking about CF, but I still think its a glaring flaw.

So what's the tl;dr?

This is not an "I hate Crimson Flower or Edelgard post" I genuinely have no interest in debating people about characters that like or enjoy. Nor did I want to turn this into a moral argument about the implication CF. I feel like these topics do real damage to any real criticisms one can have for CF as a narrative.

Which for me, CF as a route fails to really mesh with the rest of 3H as a whole. It feels like it takes a lot of narrative ways out to avoid potentially making their lord seem objectionable, despite much of this game wanting to be about how tragically flawed everyone is. Im not saying Edelgard needed a come to Jesus moment of "Are we the bad guys?" No absolutely not. In my opinion we just lack seeing Edelgard change the same way post time skip as others have due to creating an entirely brand new setting that keeping her as a mostly the same character is not questionable. Nor does she have to do anything that could truly be seen as flawed. Things that Byleth's influence may overcome.

Edelgard is a good character and her goals are understandable. I just personally find the narrative bending to accommodate her in ways so different from the other time skips genuinely make it a weaker narrative for me.

If you enjoy CF as it it. More power to you. Please keep loving CF. This isn't supposed to be a dissuading post. This is merely me as one guy who likes a lot of FE because of the stories it can tell sharing why he personally didn't enjoy this one. Maybe I helped put it words for some who might feel similar. But this is just my opinion

If you have something you'd like to add or reply in the replies or tags please flee free, but for the love god, please be cordial about it. There is so much toxicity and disingenuous takes around Fire Emblem Crimson Flower and Edelgard and Rhea in general, that I would like for us to please be able to talk about this in good faith.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #black eagles #edelgard von hresvelg #crimson flower #rhea #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von riegan #rhapsode rambles

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pruneunfair · 1 month ago

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All these posts about slavery in Manhwhas and Fiction in general, it reminds of this good Manga that did slavery justice: Shadows House, hell they don't even use the word Slave at all and the subject matter 100% works without it being called slavery even

They don't throw around the word Slave at all but they didn't shy away from the injustice it is, I think that's great writing there, don't just tell it, show it, the Protagonist only speaks up about the slave issues when it needs to be talked about and the rest shown is self explanatory

This Manga did child labor, slavery, cult, revolution better than most I would say, unlike other works that practically fetishize these issues, other than that Shadows House also have great concepts and utilize tropes really well, they make child characters right

I also chimed in by making Fanworks on them, mostly writing about my OCs, I have an Muse OC who's in the rank of the Highest Elites of the authority body of Shadows House, btw this Manga takes place on a Island and in one huge Manor only, she's definitely against the abusive system of the House: Child labors and various other illegal actions against Children, she does have the ability to change things but it doesn't mean she literally overthrow the entire system

My Muse OC is my part to give my own interpretation of the story, a lot seems to think that just because someone is in a position of great power automatically means they will fix everything and everything is so easily changed, my OC understands that the corruption is bad and she does want to change it, but it also means breaking this House's foundation at its core and if she isn't careful, she'll be putting herself into danger, it's complicated, she loves Children in a cult that uses children like livestock, yeah it sounds weird and hypocritical that she loves Children even though she's a part of the system that harms them and definitely contribute to the corruption, but you see that's just the way of life to her, because she was a child of this system, albeit she got a better start than other children who are the actual slaves but she isn't that different than any of those children, it all two sides of the same coin, it's a complicated multifaceted tale, that isn't so black and white. My OC's story is an example of someone who's raised in a corrupted system, she has powers but also powerless, basically someone who's in a tight spot

Y'know this story also has an antagonist who's a part of the slave class who's honestly not meant to be a "slaves are greedy bastards" character like Rashta, the guy is anything but that, he does things not for the greater goods, everything he did was for his benefits, if looking like an anti-slave savior would serves his personal benefits, he would do that, he doesn't give two fuck about the clear corruption and child abuse of this system, he uses that system to further his benefits, overall he's a great example of "nothing is black and white"

He also has an interestingly dysfunctional relationship with my Muse OC I mentioned above

The story really puts into perspective the problematic and complex dilemmas of morals and the dark subject matters

This Manga is so great on the dark topics without being too explicit and obscene, you should totally check out, hope you don't mind my yapping about my Fanon lol

I now really want to read Shadows house, this sounds amazing!

I really used to be a big fan before I moved and the library that was closest nearby to where I lived only had a limited section of Naruto and attack on titan (nothing against those two anime completely, just that I've read them many times before)

So I'm really looking forward to something new.

#shadows house #manga #ask

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postmoderntongues · 29 days ago

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IF you are such a fan of rapist Nazis why aren't you a Trump supporter? You can't Woobify the annoying orange?

Let me explain this as gently as I can. Fiction and reality are not the same thing. They are not guided by the same moral code. Things that are interesting or exciting in fiction are often absolutely revolting and deplorable in reality.

donald trump is a real fascist actively eroding American rights and kidnapping brown people to put in slave labor camps and trying to make it so disabled people like myself are forced to violate the social contract in order to survive. His actions have consequences on reality. He is also very ugly visually and a long-recorded serial rapist including a rapist of children who has only bragged about sexual misconduct. he's a draft dodging white collar criminal who has never seen a genuine consequence for any of his many misdeeds. he doesn't even have some tragic backstory where he can be like "I'm incapable of processing empathy because I got fucked in a shed in kindergarten"

James Robson is a fictional character from an HBO show with zero ability to impact real world policy in a way that could threaten my quality of life. He lives in a fictional place. he was created from the ether by a staff of writers. He was played very skillfully by RE Rodgers who is extremely handsome. As a fictional character, he can kill and rape people with no limit in sight and actual material reality for vulnerable people in America will not be altered in the slightest.

And even this fictional antagonist, Unlike trump, does not rape or sexually harass or hurt women (even in the flashback to his crime, he kills the man and menaces the woman but does not harm her). His moral event horizon is not any of the dozens of rapes or murders he commits, it is getting physically aggressive with his wife as a trauma response to his repeated public sexual abuse after she triggers him by calling him a homosexual slur without realizing he's been forcibly subjected to homosexual sex.

RE Rodgers is throwing his full bussy into the role getting naked under Brandon Kelly for the sake of art, not trying to take away my fucking food stamps. We also get to see him get justice. We get to see him put in the same spot, arguably worse, that he puts others in throughout his entire run on the show. We get to see him broken and crying and debating if death would be better and confessing that he's afraid that he's grown into his sexually abusive father and his happy ending is a fucking AIDS diagnosis and accepting being rejected by everybody he had built any sort of trust or friendship or relationship with during his incarceration and moved to a unit where he would be publicly labeled an HIV infected homosexual and never escape the stigma of having been raped by Cutler.

The amount of time that I spend explaining the difference between fiction and reality to people old enough to be literate enough to communicate through text is genuinely concerning.

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lumine-no-hikari · 10 months ago

Text

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #150

Today is my 150th letter to you. It is the same as the number of my favorite Pokémon. So I am going to talk about him today. His name is Mewtwo, and he's a lot like you, actually:

So… I should probably tell you that I've seen only the version of his story that was localized to my country. So that is the version of the story I will tell.

Mewtwo was created in a laboratory. He was created from what was thought to be the most powerful Pokémon at the time - a Pokémon called Mew, which was thought to be extinct (there is precisely one Mew left in the world as far as I know, kinda like the Cetra). I'll explain…

Some guy named Giovanni was the leader of Team Rocket, which is a crime gang that is hellbent on generating profit in whatever ways they can, no matter who or what gets exploited or destroyed in the process; they're kinda like Shinra in some ways in that Team Rocket has huge armies and crazy resources and is interested in gathering up wealth and power. The easiest way to gain power in this world is by controlling powerful Pokémon, so Giovanni sought to create an enhanced living replica of Mew in order to have all the power and all the profit. Y'know… kiiiind of the same exact reason Shinra sought to create you.

So Mewtwo was created using a fossil that was found of Mew. It was spliced with human DNA (some other guy named Blaine, if I'm not mistaken). And just like that, Mewtwo was created and left to grow in a vat; he didn't even get to be born of a womb in the same way as you. Unlike you, too, he doesn't even have parents; there is literally nothing else like him in the world he inhabits; there never has been, and there never will be. Here is a video that details his childhood; I'll warn you, though - it's very sad:

dailymotion

…When Mewtwo woke up for the first time, he was already an adult. He realized almost immediately that he was created to be a test subject and a slave, and once he had that realization, instead of simply saying "no fuck you" and leaving (this is ALWAYS an option; you don't have to hurt people to get away from them), he became so angry that he used his powers to raze the laboratory he was created in to the ground, slaughtering everyone inside without so much as a second thought; all that was left was ashes and flames. In a lot of ways, this very closely mirrors what happened to you in Nibelheim.

…And, like you, after that, he was taken in by someone who cared nothing for who he was or for his desire to be loved and to have a sense of belonging. In Mewtwo's case, it was Giovanni. Giovanni lured Mewtwo into his control under the premise that they would work together as partners. Mewtwo would learn how to better wield his abilities in Giovanni's presence, but the way he learned was by doing Giovanni's bidding and destroying or exploiting anything Giovanni saw fit. Eventually, when Mewtwo realized that Giovanni saw him as nothing more than a commodity to be harnessed instead of a living, breathing thing to be loved and understood, Mewtwo lost his shit again and escaped, razing the building to the ground, and presumably killing everyone inside in the process. So... Mewtwo did a Nibelheim not once, but TWICE:

youtube

..."I was not born of Pokémon, I was created, and my creators have used and betrayed me, so... I stand alone." I can imagine that you might find such sentiments deeply relatable.

From there, Mewtwo quite understandably held a deep grudge against all humans. So he created a storm that would wipe out not only all humans, but also any Pokémon who ever befriended and worked with a human; Mewtwo had never met a human who was kind, and so he had assumed that all humans were dangerous, selfish creatures that manipulated Pokémon into being their slaves, and that all Pokémon who willingly worked with humans were pathetic, vile things that debased themselves for the sake of human approval.

…Coming from abuse, myself, I can understand why Mewtwo would assume that all humans are cruel and capricious things. I can understand why you might have thought similarly in the past, and might still think similarly now. I used to believe the same things, and for all the pain I went through, I bore a deep grudge against other people for a very long time. I thought that if I preemptively stereotyped all humans as things that would hurt me and pushed them away by hurting them before they had an opportunity to do the same to me, I would be able to protect myself and keep myself safe.

But that's not how it works; that's NEVER how it works, because when we apply broad, sweeping generalizations to large swaths of people, we end up dehumanizing them in the process, and in so doing, we become no better than those who have hurt us. I've made a lot of mistakes in the past; I only know better now because I got help, and I still have a lot more work to do in order to make up for who I was before. I'll never be "done". I'll never be "healed". But the work required to strive towards these things is still worth doing.

To create his idea of a "perfect" world, Mewtwo rebuilt the laboratory he destroyed, lured some very powerful trainers there, and then stole their Pokémon for the purpose of cloning them. He then pitted the cloned Pokémon against the originals, as though their manner of birth meant something about their worth (spoiler alert: their manner of creation doesn't mean a goddamn thing, because they're ALL living creatures, worthy of love, acceptance, and a place in the world). Mew showed up to try to talk some sense into Mewtwo, trying to tell him that it doesn't matter how anyone is born and that what counts is the contents of their heart.

But Mewtwo wasn't able to hear the wisdom of what Mew was saying; his eyes were too clouded over by the pain from the losses he experienced as a child, the abuse he went through as an adult, and likely the shame he felt about how he came into being. So he fought Mew with the intention of killing Mew. But their battle was creating terrible shockwaves of energy that were hurting all of the Pokémon on the battlefield that Mewtwo pitted against one another. Realizing that the Pokémon on the battlefield would die if Mewtwo and Mew didn't stop fighting RIGHT THE FUCK NOW, a brave and kind boy named Ash sacrificed his own life by putting himself between Mew and Mewtwo as they fought in an effort to get them to stop, even though there was no way of knowing whether or not it would work.

Mewtwo was stunned. He didn't know that humans were capable of such selflessness, and in that instant, it shifted his entire worldview. Mewtwo realized the terrible mistake he had made, and he turned himself around:

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His most profound quote is, "I see now that the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant; it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are." I hope that this is one that you'll take to heart.

Here, this is his summary of his story in his own words:

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Mewtwo, Mew, and all of the rest of the cloned Pokémon went to a place called Mt. Quena; it's a beautiful mountain with a lake in the middle of it with waters that have miraculous healing powers, and a system of caves in which to take shelter. Mewtwo lived peacefully there for a while, still working through his shame about being a cloned Pokémon instead of one that was more typically born, but Giovanni had been looking for him, and ended up finding him.

When Giovanni found Mewtwo, he immediately mobilized troops to go capture him and to set up a new Team Rocket base, polluting the water in the process. Giovanni demanded that Mewtwo walk into a machine that was designed to break his will via the application of torture, and he threatened to hurt the cloned Pokémon if Mewtwo did not comply, so Mewtwo did as Giovanni said. But Mewtwo's will did not break, and so he was nearly tortured to death before Ash showed up to break the machine. Ash then carried Mewtwo (yes, all 269lb/122kg of him) to the healing lake and threw him in the water, saving his life.

Mewtwo asks why Ash is helping him, since he is a cloned Pokémon that supposedly doesn't belong in this world. And in this one, Ash says something profound: you don't need a reason to help somebody; when you see someone in trouble, you just help them and that's all there is to it. Mewtwo then wonders if Ash is unique amongst humans, to which Ash replies that every human is unique. And when the waters of the lake heal Mewtwo just as they do to any Pokémon or person, Mewtwo is finally able to accept that he belongs to this world, regardless of the circumstances of his birth.

Mewtwo emerges from the waters reinvigorated, and from there, he uses his powers to wipe the memories of his existence from the mind of every Team Rocket member, including Giovanni. He also moves the lake inside the cave system of the mountain, so that no one will ever be able to exploit or pollute it again. Team Rocket leaves, and Mewtwo now gets to have a peaceful life in a beautiful place, surrounded by other living things who love him very, very much. Witness this, and engrave these words into your heart:

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Sephiroth, you do not belong to anyone. You do not belong to Shinra. You do not belong to Jenova. You do not belong to the Gi or to the Cetra. You belong to you, and you alone. And you belong in this world. Sephiroth... can you imagine what it would be like if you used your amazing power to defend those people who are good to you and who are willing to try to give you new life?

Good people are everywhere, and they're not going to use you like a commodity or abuse you until you do what they say. Good people will hold you accountable when you do some stupid shit that hurts yourself or other people, though, because that's what the people who love you are supposed to do. They're supposed to challenge you to do better without exploiting you or breaking you down in the process. The world is full of people like this - people who can love and accept you as-is while encouraging you to become your best and most favorite self; all you have to do is open your eyes. All you have to do is try.

You are not much different from Mewtwo. You are not much different from me. If Mewtwo gets to be restored and have a happy, wholesome, joyful, love-filled life even after years of trauma, abuse, and mistakes, then so do you. If I get to be restored and have a happy, wholesome, joyful, love-filled life even after years of trauma, abuse, and mistakes, then so do you. All it takes is a willingness to learn and grow, and you'll never, EVER get me to believe that I am more mentally flexible and emotionally adaptable than you; it's never gonna happen, because I know in my bones that you are better and more capable than me in all the ways that matter, so don't even try to convince me otherwise; my faith in you is unshakable, so it's not gonna work.

Sephiroth. Please don't think you don't have anywhere to go or anywhere to belong. Mewtwo is literally the only one of his kind, and he still belongs with the Pokémon he calls family. They are cloned Pokémon, but all the same, they are not at all different from the other wild Pokémon that also inhabit Mt. Quena. A cloned Lapras can live with regular Lapras just the same. There isn't another Mewtwo. There isn't another Pokémon in the world that possesses the same level of power that Mewtwo has. But he still belongs. And he can still have a good life. He's not alone. You're not that different from him. So please try. Please?

That's all I've got for today. Please think about the story I told you. Heck, if your position at the Edge of Creation allows you to talk to Mewtwo somehow, please do; he's smart and wise and he knows a lot because he's learned much during the course of his life and has grown much as a result of reflecting earnestly upon all the mistakes he's made. He can help you.

I love you. Please stay safe, okay? I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

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yokakaiju · 10 months ago

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doro modern(?) au

SPOILER WARNING + LONG POST BELOW CUT

i am so tired while writing this, so apologies if some of it doesnt make sense bleh.. i will happily answer any and all questions to the best of my ability tho!!

okay so ngl... it's really not that different from canon i think? i really don't know much abt my own damn au atm cause i mostly think of it during work and for some reason i literally NEVER write anything down?? idk why???

ALSO TO PREFACE!!! DESPITE HAVING READ DORO IN FULL ABT 4 TIMES NOW AND AM GOING ON A FULL YEAR OF HYPERFIXATION HERE SOON I HAVENT BRUSHED UP ON THE LAST 60-70 CHAPTERS IN A MINUTE SO SORRY IF I MAKE A STUPID MISTAKE!!!

this shit is all 100% subject to change later btw:

• genuinely just abt everything that took place in doro takes place in the past during this au, but not in the same way or with the same characters. ik some stuff 100% wouldnt make sense because of this, BUT BLEHH ILL FIGURE IT OUT LATERR!!! literally jist like.. remove everything involving aikawa and risu and replace it with violent social unrest or smth idk yet...

• ne way, this takes place 100 years after the kaiman holey fight, but in this au it wasnt our kaiman

• the sorcerer and human world have been permanately sealed off from each other since hole fight

• humans at this point dont necessarily believe sorcerers even exist anymore due to this, but the older generations (the few people who live to be like 80-100+) are still somewhat afraid of them and think that some may still be in hole (they are)

• abt hole and this is gonna need a lot of reworking, but like.. idk. basically some humans worship hole as a modern god, taking everything that happrned as absolute truth and churches sprung up around holey, worshiping large statues made of his bones and stuff. the statues do still work as they did in base doro, but they arent as widespread anymore? theyre way more popular with older people and thr newly religous folk, but most people see them as some sort of novelty at this point and they arent widely owned outside of churches and hospitals anymore

• the refuse lake also is back kinda? but its mostly a normal lake now, but the water is still extremely tar like in some parts so its still gated off

• in the socerer world, all information regarding humans and the hole have been banned from being spoken about or learned by the general public. personal doors are also prohibited to be used/learned to be used and anyone who CAN use them that uses them unsanctioned will face capitol punishment or smth. really only the devils and en family know abt hole and shit (theres more people of course, but these are details idk yet)

• n e way, in modern era nikaido and aikawa (sigh we will get to him last...) work together at the hungry bug still

• nikaidos story is literally almost exactly the same. she is still being pseudo hunted by the en family because they got word of a time traveling socerer like howveer long ago and are trying to hunt her down in secret (they dont know its her directly tho)

• kasukabe/haze is still just chillin tho. he is nearly unchanged, still wrote books on socerers (however they were written more historically for a while, then eventually he met haru and they became research/science based) snd took ai as an appretenice, but his work outside of human medicine is thought of as crackpot conspiricy talk or entirely fictional. him and haru are stil married/divorced, haru is also atill a devil and he still has a skin door to the sorcerer world

• ive had some ideas abt shin, mostly that his mom was killed alongside his dad after someone tipped off the militia that there was somehow still sorcerers in the hole. they investigated their home for a bit and caught her using a door, so they raided the home and slaughted his family in front of him. from there shins story doesnt change much at all rn tbh

• the en family is still highly regarded and very opressive in the socerer world. they dont destroy schools anymore because duh no black powder, but they (with some devil influenece as well) heavily regulate what is taught. resistence against the en family, namely trying to learn about doors and hole, are cruely punished to show they arent fucking around, despite them still having acess to the hole and knowing (somewhat) the true events of what lead to them being separated

• i havent put much thought into the fate of the cross eyes in this au yet, but ive had some ideas? they arent the cross eyes (yet) but, they (our commanders + natsuki and risu) were low ranking memebers who are part of a resistance against the en family that attempts to fight their opression/censorship of history and some higher ups (not the commanders rn) are even trying to figure out how to make a door to the hole or smth

• this is abt all i have rn (im also super tired writing this ugh), so sigh... aikawa time i suppose... this part is gonna be long and confusing and 99% of everything ive talked abt so far was stemed from this, so heres a barely tldr tldr becase im probably making a seperate post when im not so tired. okay TLDR: ai was always disallusioned with being a human becauee his grandpa told him about sorcerers and magic and shit, so he fully bought into hazes entire catalouge of books taking thrm as gospel. eventually he meets haze and works under him, getting close enough to see some of his studies on sorcerer corpses. due to the corpses having smoke/black powder and were killed with hatred for their fellow sorcerers (they were killed by the en family), it starts to slowly affect ais young brain and the seed of a new hole have been planted blah blah, anyway he starts having horrific nightmares from the pov of hole from over a century ago and starts hearing shit cause hes already really mentally unwell. pretyu much from here it goes thr same as base doro for rn. he begs haze to help him become a sorcerer, he has all his plans snd shit tk make it work with the "fresh corpses" (either murders or bodies provided by haru) haze has access to, but haze refuses. ai just gets worse as time goes on, but him being a little emo freak he never actually vocalizes it, but as per cannon he decided to just force hazes hand. one night haze and ai were illegally hunting for potential relics of hole or the events surrounding that around the older parts of the refuse lake whrn ai ended up throwing himself into the tar. however instead of throwing himself in the refuse lake cause he needs a corpse he was compelled by hallucinations or smth to throw himself in. haze saves him and ends up doing the surgery om him blah blah literally its not that different from here, ai still "dies" and is buried he was also made of the 9(?) corpses so hes till got all his heads ans shit. when he rises this time tho instead of going to the sorcerer world he goes to haze again immediatly and begs him not to tell anyone. from here on haze hides him ot smth since he looks so different now no ones gonna recognize him or whatevs

this aint a fuckin tldr whoops. anyway uh.. ill make a seperate post abt aikawa/kai/EVERYONE ELSE IN THERE later cause i fell asleep twice writing that

please ask questions if you have any!! i will work on this more as time goes on i imagine and ill try to start actually writing ny ideas down now

#ドロヘドロ #dorohedoro #drhdr #dorohedoro spoilers #drhdr spoilers #au #modern au #kinda?#drhdr au #rambles #vin speaks

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doomerpatrol · 4 months ago

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Comic Log: Sex Criminals

I am going to go apeshit.

Sex Criminals is a romantic-comedy-drama with elements of science-fantasy and crime fiction. It is somewhat notable for very frank discussions and portrayals of sexuality, kink, fetishism, mental health, repression, and intimacy, by which I mean the characters recite Instagram infographics at each other, and there's a lot of drawings of dicks and pussies and butts. It is written by Matt Fraction (who I think is a pretty interesting character and humor writer with some great high concepts) and illustrated by Chip Zdarsky (who, to his credit, puts a lot of silly or amusing background gags and makes some compelling panels and sequences).

The premise is that a woman, Suzie, and a man, Jon, both of whom have been affected by a series of everyday traumas (a parent dying in an outlandish way, the conga line of humiliations that is adolescence, the terror of being a subject), also both have the ability to freeze time when they orgasm. When the two meet, fuck, and realize they share this ability, the two decide to rob the bank Jon works for in order to save Suzie's library from foreclosure. Unfortunately, they find they are not the only ones who can enter "The Quiet"/"Cumworld" - encountering a self-appointed Sex Police - and what ensues is a somewhat meandering story of 1) how Suzie and Jon get together, break up, get back together, and break up again, and 2) how the duo will get out from under the thumb of the weirdos that are monitoring their sex lives.

This is, I think, a pretty interesting concept! But Sex Criminals bears all the hallmarks of a serialization that got beyond the creators' control, drifting away from its initial ideas but never securing a new footing. What I mean by this is that the series is an entirely different beast at the start than it is at the end, and trying to trace its development from issue #1 to issue #69 (ha) is maddening. Broken into six five-issue arcs:

The first arc centers on the initial bank-robbery, told in a non-linear style, and emotionally focuses on the whirlwind romance and chemistry between Suze and Jon.

The second and third arcs are about exiting the honeymoon phase, as the pair initially try to get out of the situation altogether, but get drawn back into further investigation after some tit-for-tat with the antagonists, and discover more people who also have sex-related powers (I would explain more but literally none of it ends up mattering). We get more focus on the supporting cast.

The fourth arc is a crash and burn as things start coming apart and the relationship implodes, at the same time that new stakes are established on the "crime-action" side of the story. Also some of the supporting cast just drops out of the narrative.

I think it's the fifth and sixth arcs where things totally go awry - after Jon and Suzie's breakup, we have a lot of wheel-spinning issues focused on supporting characters that don't go anywhere, we have a new central antagonist who is retroactively tied into the beginning of the series in a clumsy way, we get a couple of unjustified face turns for the initial antagonists (the character of Myrtle is totally malevolent - using slut-shaming to get someone fired, destroying a building out of spite, etc. - and never at any point does anything actually redemptive, she just arbitrarily gets reassigned to Team Good Guy). The series keeps gesturing as though it's building towards a grand confrontation, but...

Eventually Jon and Suzie get back together, and the timeline-muckery and criminal conspiracy side of the plot resolves without the involvement or choices of any of the characters. Basically the evil gay sadist banker has been pulling a bunch of financial crime so he can harvest Orgone energy in order to "change the past" because he had a premonition of Suzie, who he thinks is God, telling him to do so. Suzie stops him, becomes one with The Quiet, then is drawn back into reality by her love (?) for Jon. Then Jon and Suzie break up anyway offscreen before the epilogue.

In one of Fraction's letters sections he says that at a certain point, he lost interest in the whole "criminals" angle and was more interested in exploring the relationship between Jon and Suzie. That's fine, it's the core of the work, and indeed it is what makes the story compelling. But that disinterest in one half of the titular premise makes the ongoing conspiracy-crime-time-stopping side of the story feel like it's sandbagging everything else. Essentially, too many ideas got introduced in those first four arcs that eventually became superfluous to the story Fraction wanted to tell - but he couldn't get rid of them altogether because they were load-bearing (ha) elements. So we end up with a finale issue focused on two characters getting married when they have not done a single thing of import in the series besides hit Jon in the face with a dildo.

Ultimately I think what frustrates me so much about Sex Criminals is that it has some good characters, and the plot goes interesting directions, and it has some striking visual metaphors and imagery, but it never lets the three combine in a way that really bears solid narrative or thematic fruit. Almost nothing that happens in the last ten issues (before epilogue issue 69) actually matters: most of it doesn't advance the plot, and most of it also doesn't develop the characters. The epilogue is particularly odious because it has Suzie - *the* main character - come out of it looking distinctly like not a character, and more like just a thing that Jon experienced in his journey to be less of a fuck-up.

Also, it must be said:

1) after a whole lot of tedious paeans to sex positivity, the final villain is like a homophobic stereotype of a Bateman-esque sadist who gets off on inflicting cruelty through a combination of BDSM and emotional abuse. weird!

2) Jon is primarily characterized as having "issues with authority" (and is explicitly identified as having oppositional defiance disorder, which is...a choice), and the ultimate resolution to his story is for him to go to jail so he can straighten out his act. weird!

I highlight these not to say the work is "problematic" but rather to illustrate that I do not think Fraction really thought through the implications of his work, because these kinds of closing thematic gestures are in extreme tension with the rest of the work.

#comic log

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umbramatic · 2 years ago

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The Umbra Lore Post

OK I did this for Vaespar, one of my other sonas, so I'm going to do a lore thread for what is arguably my main sona, Umbra.

This will have more Meta Context than the Vaespar thread did (there is meta context to Vaespar and I will get to it eventually but it is best saved for... elsewhere) so I'm gonna be starting with said meta context.

To start off... the entity now known as Umbra was once two separate characters.

For the first... I have a story setting I call Multiverse Warriors. It started when I was 12 as a really stupid idea for a fanfic series that essentially crossed Pokemon over with everything else I'm into but slowly evolved into an original fiction superhero-y science fantasy thing.

When it started, I decided to give the Multiverse Warriors, the titular main characters, a boss, simply referred to as The Boss. The Boss was basically me but cooler and sexier, as one does, and gave the Multiverse Warriors their missions. The Boss remained a constant fixture of my mental theater adventures of the Multiverse Warriors.

Cut to the tail end of me being 19. I joined a certain RP called We Are All Pokemon Trainers, or WAAPT for short. I whipped up a character that was by all means unusual (for the time) - an immortal (this was pre-AZ) priest of Giratina who holed himself up on an island for 600 years until finally venturing back into the outside world. As my representative in this RP he was dubbed Umbramatic, or Umbra for short, and he went on many, many adventures with a gaggle of other characters, both my other characters I made for the RP and the characters of my fellow RPers.

(Art by Pikaninja on Deviantart)

These two characters existed alongside each other as entirely different yet vaguely conceptually related entities for years. But then at one point I thought "heh, wouldn't it be funny if The Boss looked like Umbra as sort of a continuity joke" and that was a thing for a while.

But then it got to "hey what if they were the same character just at different points in time" (with the plan being to broad strokes the Pokemon bits in a copyright-friendly way in any "official" Multiverse Warriors material) and that's where things got WEIRD. That decision led to Umbra becoming my sona, an extension and representation of myself - and around the time of that decision was when my idea of who I was was starting to change wildly.

So now let's get into the (current, post-WAAPT stuff is subject to change) in-universe timeline shall we? It starts with the WAAPT stuff.

Umbra was born Joseph Nox on April 10, 1353 (WAAPT uses a Pokemonified pseudo-Gregorian calendar) on Shadedrake Island, an island not far from Hoenn that was settled by Sinnoh natives fleeing calamity long ago. Unbeknownst to him, he had been experimented on before birth, by Giratina cultists that spun off from an ancient civilization of Alakazam and Metagross, and stole a special formula from Nicolas Flamel, who in this continuity happens to be an Infernape. This formula gave Umbra immortality (again this was pre-AZ) that prevented him from dying of old age, disease, and such, as well as the ability to use Obscura (the existing WAAPT Dark/Ghost counterpart to Aura and psychic powers). He did not realize this at first and had a normal childhood with his sister Marie. He grew up to be a high priest of the Giratina religion, gaining the title "Umbramatic," and got some Ghost-type partner Pokemon. Things were going great.

Then a plague struck and every human on the island died except for Umbra.

Umbra still had his Ghost type companions (one of which was the Sableye ghost of his dead sister, who wouldn't be the last literal ghost from his past to haunt him) but after a few years he did what seemed like the wise thing and took said ghost companions and left. He ended up in a land familiar to those who have played the best Pokemon spinoff - Ransei.

In Ransei he worked his way up the ranks of the nation Spectra. While he was doing so, he met a lovely lady named Duolis, who he eventually married.

(Art by Pikaninja on Deviantart)

Eventually he succeeded Nō as the leader of Spectra and became known as The Ghost Lord, after which Giratina loaned him part of their power.

This is where things turned sour.

Umbra quickly grew mad with power. He started to rule Spectra with an iron fist. Soon all knew and feared the name of the Ghost Lord.

(Art by Pikaninja on Deviantart) He got into various shenanigans with the other residents of the new generation of Ransei (read: my fellow RPers in that particular side arc) before someone finally put his reign to an end. That someone was... his girlfriend from the future, transformed into a white Arcanine for a ridiculous Okami homage I am still weirdly proud of all these years later.

We'll get back to her later, obviously.

(Art by Katie Tiedrich)

But even though she gave him an ass beating, despite him turning into a powerful Giratina-Black Kyurem hybrid ghost dragon named Penumbra, she did not in fact kill him, because she did not want to even with the evil overlord phase and also this is a stable time loop. So Umbra, oblivious to the true nature of his assailant, was wracked with guilt over his deeds. He dropped everything, said goodbye to his wife (more on her later), then went right back to Shadedrake Island where he and his Pokemon remained holed up for the next six hundred years.

(Art by Augdgreen on Deviantart)

Eventually, however, (partially due to Giratina pulling a Mufasa) he and his mons mustered up the courage to leave. And that's where things really got started.

He, eventually, found his way to Fortree City. There he met a particular group of Pokemon trainers: the J-Team. They are a group of champion-level vigilante Trainers who go about adventuring together. They promptly did the sensible thing and adopted Umbra and his Pokemon as their own.

From there Umbra had a Wailordload of adventures with the J-Team including but not limited to (take notes kids some of these are important later):

-Gaining a whole bunch of Pokemon friends

-Discovering another immortal named Lina, who was created as his backup by the Giratina cult and was his unseen rival in the Ransei days

(Art by Pikaninja on Deviantart)

-Finding the truth about his Sableye sister

-Finding out the truth about his origins

-Finding a girlfriend named Amaterasu or Ammy for short who can change between human and Volcarona at will

-Getting into a deconstruction of love triangles with Ammy and Lina

-Being the Grumpy of a Seven who is also a Hydregion with false memories and also The Beast in a Kingdom Hearts/Epic Mickey-esqe plot

-Having more of his past confront him vis a Waka-esqe Latios who knew him back then -Dealing with Ammy having a short-lived affair (they make up)

-Dealing with Ammy going back in time and becoming his arch-nemesis as a white Arcanine, thus finding the truth about his past and turning their relationship to enemies to lovers retroactively (they make up)

-Finding out one of his colleagues, Pent, is his and Duolis' descendant

-Finding out one of his friends is the human avatar of the Xerneas-created artifact of power he sought in his Ghost Lord days

-Switching bodies with that friend

-Finding his ex-wife is now a Doublade with her own story and issues

-Coming out as having a crush on ANOTHER archnemesis

-Becoming Luke Skywalker

-Creating a universe with the help of his friends in a ridiculous Homestuck homage (that would become the Yangverse, hence Yangverse!Arceus' human form looking like him)

-Being sent to a dimension where he never stopped being the Ghost Lord, and where he and Lina had a son

-Him and his friends having to be broken out of a different dimension by said son

-Making up with that one archnemesis crush from earlier

-Him and Ammy finally getting married and riding off with their friends into the sunset

That last bit was mostly the end of Umbra's story in WAAPT, as I moved on to focus on other, newer characters.

...But as for his story overall it was only the beginning. Now we enter the post-WAAPT-canon bit which is a transition to... something else.

See, long after the events of WAAPT, bad things start happening for Umbra as the immortality monkey's paw starts curling. Most of his human friends and Pokemon companions alike start dying off one by one of old age or other factors. Even some of his Ghost pokemon passed on for real, their purpose in the mortal realm done.

And then it happened.

After her long Volcarona-demigoddess-based lifespan kept her going for well over a millennium, Ammy finally died of old age.

Umbra, naturally, was devastated. However he was devastated enough to take drastic measures.

See, he had close connections with a WAAPT organization called PEFE, which had a super secret advanced island base. He used their technology to isolate himself to an alternate timeline of the WAAPTverse that had all human and Pokemon life raptured in an unknown incident, and isolated himself in the remains of PEFE there, cutting himself from almost everyone else. The only surviving companion that came with him was Xion the Porygon-Z, and she kind of forced herself along.

Umbra stayed alone with Xion in this facility for a long, long time. Sure, he kept himself busy, like with repairing the facility, but he never actually left. Xion meanwhile had much of her programming altered to the point she wasn't a Porygon-Z or even a Pokemon anymore, and came to be known as X.

Eventually, however, X convinced Umbra to go out just a little. So while he had no intention of ever going back to his home timeline due to all the trauma he did use the multiverse-traveling tech that got him here in the first place to start visiting entirely different timelines.

The timelines and his little vacations to them were varied. Many of them were very different worlds than the Pokemon-based one he had left behind (leading him to discover to his initial shock and horror what "animals" were), though he visited plenty of other Pokemon worlds too. Eventually during these visits, he started opening up again. He started, you know, actually making friends. Some of them even became new lovers, though none filled the hole Ammy left behind.

It was then he met The Shimmerweaver.

The Shimmerweaver is an archfey entity of immense magical power. Umbra met and befriended them in his travels, and they had a fling or two. But while The Shimmerweaver is not malevolent they are mischievous. Prone to fucking around with their powers to see what happens.

So one day, they gave Umbra a "gift," that gift being irradiating him with an obscene amount of fey magic.

After this Umbra found he was no longer a human, but an elf. And not just any old Tolkien-style elf but an elf that was one of the olden fair folk, with all the urges, strengths, and weaknesses. His magical powers expanded widely beyond just his original latent ability to use Obscura, including the ability to shapeshift into other beings via stealing small snippets of their metaphysical identities, but he became vulnerable to silver and prone to dark urges to do awful things to mortals. Also pointy ears and longer hair of course. He could better control his Penumbra dragon form - including making it more anthropomorphic as well -but would also lapse into an eldritch elf form not unlike the Shimmerweaver under pressure.

(Art by Shorah_Art)

But the most pronounced effect this had on Umbra... was the ability for him/her to trans his/her gender.

Umbra was horrified at first. Asked The Shimmerweaver to change him/her back, only to get a "this will be good for you I swear". And. Indeed he/she started getting used to it. In particular started using his/her shapechanging and genderchanging abilities to present and feel euphoria in ways he/she had never before. On one hand it caused him/her to be more ambitious in his/her multiversal adventures. On the other he/she felt the need to keep his/her new nature a secret from most, using his/her powers to make it look like nothing had changed.

And ultimately, even with his/her many multiversal excursions and newfound powers to toy with, aside from the presence of X he/she led a very lonely life at home.

(Art by lilsmolfoxdraws on Twitter)

Then the second shakeup happened.

One morning over his/her morning coffee Umbra found a gaggle of strange children - named Otto, Giselle, Minalli, and Darrin - in one of his lair's modules.

Art by @drrandombear

Said children were child experiments with multiple superpowers, who had escaped their lab via a multiverse-traveling machine. This, however, caused them to crash-land in Umbra's facility. Initially not trusting each other, Umbra nevertheless provided food and shelter for the children. Over time they learned to, in fact, trust each other, aside from Umbra withholding his/her fey, gender-changing, and draconic secrets out of Anxiety, and after a point Umbra had basically adopted the children. Another child named Trina, from yet another universe, eventually joined them as well after one of their adventures, Umbra adopting her as well.

It was Trina's story - being rescued from a race of crystalline demons that gave her strange powers - that gave Umbra an idea.

See, he/she had seen a lot of things across the multiverse. A lot of amazing things, but also a lot of terrible things. Many, many people who for whatever reason needed help.

So he trained the children in rescue, and combat, and deflecting and circumventing disaster. Those children eventually started putting their training into action across the multiverse, saving lives. They referred to Umbra as The Boss. And he/she gave them a name too: The Multiverse Warriors.

They went on many adventures with Umbra, or The Boss, at their command. But will Umbra ever open up to them about his/her secrets? We'll find out eventually.

And here is where we loop back to the meta stuff. Because through all this bullshit, in-universe and out, Umbra has become an extension of my identity. Sure, Umbra's not *literally* me. Sure, Umbra-as-a-character vs. Umbrra-as-a-representation-of-me is kind of fuzzy, and what's canon in that regard is a little messy. But Umbra, *spiritually*, is me... or at least one form of me, along with my other sonas. He/she got me out of my shell with my writing and character development. He/she helped me explore my gender identity. Umbra is very special to who I am as a person... and while I've tried to document as much as his/her story as possible here, it's sure to gain new wrinkles from here on out.

#original character #sona #original fiction #pokemon #rp #lore dump

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