#does evil come from within us or beyond

[graciepasty]

Nosferatu. Dir. Robbert Eggers (2024).

[scre6m]

Does evil come from within us, or from beyond? NOSFERATU (2024) dir. Robert Eggers

[sahind]

“Does evil come from within us… or from beyond?“ NOSFERATU (2024) dir. Robert Eggers

[jannwrites]

film ask meme : NOSFERATU (2024) directed by ROBERT EGGERS.

a selection of lines from the 2024 film nosferatu. modified for rp purposes.

you are not for the living. you are not for human kind.

do you swear it?

come here. there is nothing to be afraid of.

today is of the utmost importance for us.

it will be a great adventure for you.

why have you killed these beautiful flowers?

i must tell you my dream.

standing before me, all in black, was Death.

the stench of their bodies was horrible.

i had never been so happy as that moment, as i held hands with Death.

never speak these things aloud. never.

i wish you to have all you deserve.

it's worth celebrating your adventure. i envy you.

i fear their past melancholy is returning.

don't let them feed me to the monster!

remember, it's all for us.

you bring trouble with you.

beware his shadow. the shadow covers you in a nightmare.

you are late. the midnight hour is passed.

i fear we yet keep close many superstitions here that may seem backward to someone of your high learning.

they exhumed a corpse.

i might ease your wound.

come by the fire. your face shows you unwell.

why ever did you bring that here?

what can cheer this poor humor, my love?

do you ever feel, at times, as if you were not a person?

we all feel out of sorts, set apart, at times. small or alone.

you are fortunate in your love.

it is a black omen to journey in poor health.

no one. i am no one.

he loves the pretty ones best.

you are lost in his shadow.

remain here. his evil cannot enter this house of God.

soon i will be no more a shadow to you.

your spirit was never enough.

no matter. i miscalculated the stars.

hermes will not render my black sulfur gold this evening.

do not revel what is sacred to dogs.

does evil come from within us or from beyond?

this evil, what it it is, how it has been summoned - unleashed - i know not.

there is a dread storm rising.

your bond shall not survive me.

it is a force more powerful than evil. it is death itself.

i have wrestled with the devil as jacob wrestled the angel in peniel.

if we are to tame darkness, we must first face that it exists.

i told you, you are not of human kind.

i am an appetite. nothing more.

i cannot be sated without you.

remember how once we were?

you have never liked me.

nothing you can say will shake me - for there is a devil in this world, and i have met him.

don't touch me. i am not to be touched.

the grim reaper wields his heavy scythe with every change of wind.

your horror has rent our hearts, but you must hear us.

these nightmares do exist! they exist!

the monster left you to the wolves, and yet you prevailed.

we must know evil to be able to destroy it. we must discover it within ourselves.

i need no salvation.

you will put an end to all of this?

i feel his hold upon me this night.

i am ready. i bid you, come to me.

i relinquished him my soul.

god is beyond our morals.

[sansaorgana]

— HUMBLED (I)

PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Vala!Reader // Morgoth x fem!Vala!Reader

SUMMARY — Grown tired of living in your sister's shadow, you offered yourself to the one whom she had rejected once – Melkor. You regretted it quickly as he turned out to be a cruel lover and you became the very first subject of his twisted tortures meant to reshape one's spirit. In his eyes you were nothing by Varda's shadow but in the eyes of Mairon the Maia you have always been the only and the most holy goddess. When his master is gone, he can finally get close to you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I had two ideas for Sauron with Morgoth's ex and honestly? I will probably write one more because I like the other idea a lot, too. This fic is quite dark because of the nature of Reader's relationship with Morgoth. Not gonna lie, it was a challenge to write a Reader who is a literal Goddess but Sauron himself inspired me to explore this dynamic when he seemed to be so proud of the fact that it was a God himself torturing him... 👀 The Reader in this fic is a Vala (and Varda's sister but she remains undescribed as well), so she changes her appearance like Sauron does but I am not describing any of her forms in any details. In the next part there will be some goo/blob!Sauron + Halbrand and in this part our favourite ginger loser makes his comeback! 🦊 Apparently, I can't write him as a dom... 😂 Well, surely not with someone who is so much above him. Huge thanks to @dinsbeskar once more because we were brainstorming about this idea together. ⭐ Special thanks to @olchr-1 as well! 💚 PS – I haven't described how Morgoth looks like either but I imagine him as a tall, black haired hottie like on the fanarts. 💀😂 There is also a slight mention of the Reader being originally promised to Aulë, which was inspired by the story of Hephaestus and Aphrodite.

WARNINGS — Reader is evil (reshaped by Morgoth but not completely evil), domestic abuse (with Morgoth), mentions of Sauron and Reader being tortured by Morgoth, SMUT, sub!Sauron

WORD COUNT — 4,330

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

HUMBLED (I)

The very first thing you remembered was beholding your sister Varda being crowned one of the mightiest of the Valier and Queen of the Valar, Queen of the Stars, a beauty beyond the description of Men and Elves. So pure to reject Melkor and marry his brother Manwë instead – King of the Valar.

You followed your sister nearly everywhere, hoping to bask in her light but it never seemed to be enough to make you feel warm. You were greedy – at first, you were jealous of her husband and insisted on her spending more time with you than with him, striving for all of her affection. Once you realised that it was a lost cause, you began to detest Manwë.

You watched Varda situate the stars in the heavens above Arda as if they were jewels and you were the one setting them alight with the fire burning within you for they could lighten up the firmament. You were responsible for the treacherous element that the fire was – useful in many ways but also dangerous if not used correctly or with malicious intent.

Aulë The Smith began to court you as he watched you set the stars on fire. He was dreaming of how perfectly you two would go together if you were to fuel the fire inside his forge – the source of all his creation would come from you.

Everyone, including your sister, was encouraging you to become his wife for his heart was of a noble kind. Your own heart remained unsure but you wished to marry as well instead of only watching Varda and Manwë sharing a bond you could only dream of. Aulë, however, was not who you were dreaming about.

It was Melkor that you were drawn to; Manwë’s powerful brother, the very same whom your sister had rejected once and he had grown to resent her. You were observing him often because he fascinated you and you probably were the only one amongst the Valar who understood him. You were outcasts, both of you, but you were better at hiding it.

He was sometimes observing you as well, from the corner of his eye. You could feel his gaze on you and you knew that he had to feel the same way you did – he could see the malice inside of your heart for his was the same.

Whenever you would spend time with Varda dancing in the flower fields, you could feel Melkor creeping in the shadows and watching. Of course, he was there for your sister but still, some of his gazes were reserved for you only.

Therefore, on the eve of your wedding to Aulë, you forsake the light and seeked the shadow as you sneaked out of the palace you lived in and you found yourself knocking upon Melkor’s doors. There was no fear inside of you, only pure determination.

And you knew you could never replace your sister; your power was a mere shadow of hers. Yet, you offered yourself to Melkor on that night and he took you in, claimed you as his own and made you his bride. Before dawn, together, you fled from Arda for some time, leaving behind sorrow and dismay.

Your sister was most grieved by your betrayal. Alongside her, Aulë descended into a state of melancholy until Manwë mentioned to him the possibility of courting Yavanna instead and The Fruit-Giver became his wife – that union became one of harmony and love unlike the one you would have with The Smith.

You always fascinated Mairon the most – (Y/N), Mother of Flames, Aulë’s lost love. As his disciple, Mairon observed you humbly before and he knew his master’s heart enough to know that Aulë would always feel bitter towards you. Yavanna was his love match but she could not fuel the fire inside his forge and become the source of his creation.

What a source of inspiration you were for Mairon, though. The same way others worshipped Varda, Mairon worshipped you. Everytime he stared at the fire inside the forge, your image was all he could think of as the thought of you lingered in his mind constantly. You were long gone from Arda after eloping with Melkor but he hoped it was not yet over, that he would see you again. In the early days, when his spirit was still pure, he often fantasised about you being taken back by the Valar and forgiven by them, so he could build altars for you amongst the kins that would yet awake to inhabit Arda.

Some of his bolder daydreams were about another form of punishment for you – he would have you humbled in the name of redemption, bound to a lowly Maia. He meant himself, of course. He imagined the Mother of Flames becoming the source of his creation, fueling the fire within his forge and watching over his craft as his very own wife. He wondered how jealous Aulë would be then and how humiliated you would be, yet he was certain he could make you happy and fix the malice of your spirit with his undying love and endless devotion.

And perhaps that blasphemous dreams of Mairon the Maia, bold in their insolence, would be a kinder fate for both of you and the whole Arda. Because, in the meantime, you were starting to realise with bitter clarity why you should have stayed away from Melkor, the Dark Lord, in the first place.

In his greatness, he dwelt in solitude and his mind remained ungraspable for you. He would rarely let you inside to allow you to see the world the way he perceived it. Though he desired you, it was not as an equal, neither as companion nor as lover. And even in his desire, there was contempt, too, because as Varda’s sister you were a reminder of her rejection, which still lingered within your husband as a wound unhealed. And your beauty, your power, your holiness… They were nothing but pale echoes of your sister’s qualities; faint reflections of her no matter how hard you tried. And each one of your failures to meet Melkor’s towering expectations was met with your husband’s wrath.

None among his servants who would later know him as a cruel master ever dared to complain about his punishments in your presence because you were his first subject of torment, his earliest experiment in reshaping the will of another and they knew that you survived things they could barely think of. You were a Vala and you could endure the worst treatment, therefore in your suffering he reshaped you in ways that would shatter even the mighty Maiar. Melkor forged you anew and twisted your already spoiled essence to his dark design.

Alone in his presence you felt belittled and humbled. But by his side before others, you were exalted and invincible – cloaked in the might of his dominion – and that illusion of power became intoxicating. For allowing you to get sedated with such greatness was enough to worship him like he was Eru himself and out of all your offerings, he loved that devotion the most about you.

To be his wife was not easy – it was a torment and perhaps you were burdened with the most difficult fate out of all the Valar. Yet, it was what you had chosen willingly for yourself and you carried this responsibility with pride, trying not to think too much of the life you could have lived instead. You were made for much bigger things than spending your whole lifetime resting in the sunlight and being followed by the forest animals like some of the Valar ladies were. No, you were aiming for greatness and the price for it was pain.

When Mairon came to your husband’s service, you sensed immediately the amount of his worship and devotion towards you. You sometimes wondered if the Maia joined Melkor for him and his power or were you the real reason for his spirit’s betrayal. His devotion amused you but you offered him no kindness as his yearning for your favour was met with cold indifference. Even though he was desperate for more of it, he should know better and be grateful for your rejection. Because if Melkor would realise the true nature of Mairon’s feelings, he would not go easy on him and his wrath would be merciless. 

Sometimes you wondered how it was possible that Melkor could not sense Mairon’s admiration for you. Perhaps he thought of it as something innocent – something expected from his servants to feel towards his Queen. Perhaps he thought of it as silly and pathetic, unworthy of his attention, because he knew you would never humiliate yourself to betray him for a servant.

Or perhaps your husband cared about you even less than you suspected.

After Melkor’s defeat, you were hiding inside your fortress in the North from the wrath of the Valar. Your husband’s absence was welcomed by you with relief but also a huge emptiness within your soul. You had been his companion for ages and to be left alone now felt oddly wrong. Many of the creatures of darkness expected you to take the leadership but you stepped away instead, wishing for a calmer and more peaceful time at least. 

The power you had once craved now was something you dreaded. Your husband’s ways had drained you nearly completely, you were a shell of your old self. You wanted nothing but to crawl inside a hole and spend another eternity there, resting as a person unknown to the outside world. 

Mairon was the one who took all the responsibilities upon his shoulders and while committing to his duties, he would always emphasise he was fulfilling them in your name. Forever a servant he would remain. 

Now, without Melkor’s eyes observing him constantly, he gained more courage to bask in the remains of your corrupted light. You sensed his gaze on you wherever you would go.

Your wish, however, was to go much further away and Mairon knew about it, which was worrying him. He was trying his best – nearly desperately – to reunite your husband’s armies and dark creatures of the shadows, to become their leader and build a realm for you to rule over. To become worthy of you.

“My Lady,” he kneeled as he approached you and he kept his eyes low although you knew he dared to look up here and there, too tempted not to lay his gaze on you. “Please, grant me an audience,” he pleaded.

“You wish for an audience, Mairon? But is it not you preparing to get crowned very soon, my cunning spirit? Soon it shall be me asking for your audience,” you teased him and he looked up, his eyes filled with panic. Melkor would punish him for such schemes but you were not him and his influence was upon you no more. 

“I might crown myself the new Dark Lord, my Lady, but I would never consider myself to be above my Goddess,” he confessed and you smiled sadly as you approached him to grab him by his chin.

He swallowed thickly out of fear but his eyes remained soft, filled with nothing but pure admiration. In Melkor’s eyes you had been Varda’s unworthy shadow. Perhaps no one had ever perceived you with such devotion as Mairon.

“I shall build you altars in my realm; in every village, every town, every city. And in the capital of my kingdom where I will reside, I shall build a temple where you can find your peace,” he breathed out. “Just, please, do not abandon me.”

Your soft smile turned into a smirk when you let go of his chin and moved your hand to his ginger hair to caress it softly like he was your pet.

“I must, Mairon. When you build your temple for me, though, then I might come back to reside there. But until then, we must part,” you insisted and walked away at the sight of his eyes getting wet.

“Will they ever follow me without you by my side?” He asked, unsurely.

“They will not. Not all of them. Can you not see that it is a cursed path, destined to become a failure, to follow Melkor’s steps?” You turned around to look at his face once more. “Run away with me, Mairon. Forsake this realm, forsake your schemes,” you proposed and he gasped, visibly contemplating his answer. But the sparkles faded away from his eyes very quickly.

“No,” he shook his head. “I must stay and heal Middle-earth. I cannot abandon its people because of my own selfish desire,” he resisted you as you chuckled at that.

“You are no god, then, Mairon. Gods do whatever they wish. Spirits like you were created to serve,” you teased, cruelly as you sat on your armchair and he moved uncomfortably, looking away, but he remained kneeling and humbled.

“Allow me to serve you then, Mother of Flames,” he dared to whisper, nearly inaudibly, his breath shaky and lips trembling.

You tilted your head, thinking about his words. You would leave this realm soon, perhaps forever. He surely deserved a little treat before your departure for all the worship and devotion he had been gifting you with. And you deserved to give in to desires of your flesh as well after all the treatment your husband had given you.

“Come to me,” you ordered, harshly. You watched him trying to stand up slowly but you quickly stopped him. “On your hands and knees,” you explained.

Mairon glanced up at you as if he could not believe the amount of humiliation you would put him through now. It was true that back in the day you had often contrasted with Melkor’s cruelty but now Melkor was no more and you had been taught the craft by the very master of it.

Perhaps his influence was still upon you and it would remain there forever. 

You waited with an eyebrow raised and Marion gave up eventually, crawling on the floor towards you. He might have been humiliated and embarrassed but his eagerness was obvious in the way his eyes sparkled at the sight of your legs getting closer and closer to him. And when he was nearly in front of them, you opened them slightly as he gasped and looked up at you with admiration. He could not believe the access you had just given him while you smirked at his obedience.

“Serve me, Mairon,” you requested, wickedly. “Let my taste remain on your lips and might you never forget it while you build your kingdom in my name. I will come back to you then, my sweet, unless the Valar find and imprison me before,” you leaned in to caress his cheek with your finger gently.

“I shall fight them then. No matter how much it takes, I will release you and bind you to me instead,” he whispered.

“Bold of you, mighty Maia, to speak of such matters,” you let out a laugh. “Even as the greatest of your kind, you would still only be gifted with a mere shadow of my powers. We will never be equal, Mairon,” you reminded him and his eyes welled with even more tears at such a harsh reminder.

He cursed Eru himself for creating him as such a low spirit because this way he could never be worthy of you and to be able to walk by your side as your equal was all he had ever wanted.

“Let it be then… Anything to be close to you, my Lady,” he cooed. “Please, allow me to touch you,” he begged as he moved even closer to your legs.

“Proceed,” you nodded and watched him closely, observing his every movement, every gaze, which probably intimidated him even further but you could sense his desire to please you becoming too grand to care about anything else.

His hands wrapped around your ankles and moved up slowly, brushing your skin as the skirts of your dress pulled up, revealing your calves for him to admire. He had never seen them.

Well, perhaps he had. He had often sneaked up on you here and there and you had known about it but welcomed it with nothing but a chuckle as you had been pretending to be oblivious.

However, he had never been so close to them. To you. He crawled up even closer as he planted soft and devoted kisses to your exposed skin. You had never known kisses like these because Melkor had been mostly devouring you, tormenting you, using you. 

Mairon sighed and you felt a shiver go down your spine at the feeling of his fingertips brushing the back of your knees. You slid lower on the armchair as your skirts pulled nearly all the way up, exposing your thighs to him. Your obedient servant gasped and looked up at you once more as if he was asking if that part of you was allowed for him, too.

“Have I told you to stop?” You challenged him and he nodded before burying his head between your soft thighs to kiss and lick them softly, breathing the sweet scent of your skin as if you were the holiness personified.

Wicked thought it was for you were the most corrupted and fallen out of the female Valar and yet you doubted any of them were worshipped with such eagerness as you were now.

“If we never left Valinor and I never followed Melkor,” you breathed out, caressing Mairon’s ginger hair and playing with the delicate strands of his hair between your fingers, “you would be my disciple and we would spend forever in the fields under the sun with you worshipping me, my sweet spirit,” you shared your fantasy with him and he whined at that as he moved his face further and deeper, his nose nudging your glistening cunt as he requested for your legs to open even wider.

“So impatient,” you pointed out and grabbed him by his throat to pull him away. You felt him swallow underneath your hand and then you forced him to look up by grabbing his chin. It was slightly wet already from your leaking cunt and you leaned in to give him a possessive, open-mouth kiss; to taste yourself on him as his eyes widened but he gave in immediately.

While granting him with a kiss he would never forget, you opened your legs further and further, giving him full access to the sweet nectar between your thighs and he whined into your mouth like a brat when he realised what you were doing. He laid his trembling hands on your thighs and moved the folds of your dress even further to the back, making sure your cunt was all exposed for him.

The cold air of the room caused your clit to twitch and swell before his thumb found it and brushed it. Now it was your time to moan into his mouth. You broke the kiss and pressed your forehead to his as you closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths in. Pleasure without pain was an experience brand new for your flesh and you had to steady yourself as he watched in awe.

“A-allow me…” Mairon pleaded and your eyes opened once more as you looked deep into his with a nod.

You laid back in the armchair and watched him with curiosity but also a hint of contempt to see a spirit so mighty humbled like this – perhaps you could understand Melkor more than you had ever expected to be able to but it was truly fascinating and pleasurable to humiliate other spirits. 

To be able to kiss and lick your cunt, to devour it – it was surely a life-changing experience for your sweet Mairon. His usually calm demeanour changed in an instant, reminding you of a hungry hound as he whined and whimpered, lapping on your juices as if it was the sweetest nectar granting him immortality. He was intoxicated as his hands squeezed your thighs to keep them open and allow him to feast eagerly. 

Your body of a goddess allowed you to go on without breaks; a peak after peak as you shivered and trembled, caressing his head and meeting his hazy, devoted gaze once in a while to let him know he was doing good. Your praise meant everything to him for all he had always known was your husband’s reprimands. 

Your flesh could go on and on but your mind of a goddess was a demanding one and soon you grew simply bored of his ministrations, therefore you pushed his head away and crossed your legs, taking away the access from him.

Mairon’s face was flushed, his eyes foggy and skin glistening from sweat and your juices dripping down his chin. He was kneeling and looking up at you mindlessly as if he would follow your every order now, no matter how self-destructive it would be.

“You’ve served me good, Mairon,” you grabbed his chin and smiled at him. “Good servant,” you emphasised.

“P-please,” he whimpered and you furrowed your brow before realising what he begged you for.

His own release.

“Was not your kin created to serve mine? I do not think our creator blessed you with such desires, Mairon. Do not be a dirty liar,” you teased him.

“Please, my Lady,” he whined, desperately.

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Alright, then, let me see for myself,” you smirked and pushed him down onto the floor before getting out of your armchair and straddling him like a predator would trap her prey before sinking her teeth into him.

He looked so pretty like this – both excited and turned on but also absolutely terrified of you. You could do everything to him and he had no other way but to accept it. And he knew – he knew very well – that you could be as cruel as Melkor if you only wanted to be.

Melkor’s brutality had been driven by his own whim. Yours would be driven by your revenge for all the centuries of being treated like his dog. Beaten dogs tended to bite deadly and Mairon knew.

“Do not fear me, sweet Mairon. I only want to see for myself if it is true that you have fallen and corrupted yourself so much with your devotion towards me that you have been gifted with desires of the flesh,” you smirked. “Or cursed with them,” you pointed out as your hands worked on his robes and the trousers underneath them swiftly and quickly.

You gasped and laughed when you saw how hard he was already after all those hours he had spent between your legs. He blushed even further and his cheeks were crimson red now like his clothes.

“This must hurt,” you pointed out with a sinister chuckle. “Is it the first time for you?” You asked, brushing his thighs with your fingernails, making him shiver under your touch but refusing to actually pay any attention to his hard and reddened cock with its tip swollen and twitching, leaking precum.

“No,” he confessed, nearly inaudibly.

“Interesting,” you hummed to yourself and leaned in, your face so close to his that your noses brushed. “And what were you doing usually when it happened?”

“Nothing,” Mairon confessed, his face wincing out of shame. “Nothing, my Lady. I would never… I would never dare to…” He gasped after every word, so sweetly desperate and frustrated but not brave enough to ask you to do anything in particular. He would never order you around.

“Oh, my sweet, poor Mairon… You should have come to me each time and I would have helped you,” you grinned at him although you both knew it was not true. None of you would have ever dared to commit such an act behind Melkor’s back. “Do you want me to ease you now?” You asked.

“P-please…”

You reached towards his twitching cock and grabbed his wet length as you watched with cold fascination while he struggled and writhed underneath you. A few pumps of your hand was enough to make him spill himself with a whine, bucking his hips into your hand as you kept jerking him off to make more and more of his seed spurt out. 

His body of a Maia did not need breaks but there was always a limit to how much seed any male flesh could produce. And when you felt he could absolutely do no more, you stopped and watched him catch his breath as you giggled, laying on top of him and intertwining your legs. One of your hands kept caressing his sore and softening cock gently as your other hand pulled his head closer to your chest, burying his face between your breasts and caressing his ginger hair strands.

“Please, do not go… I will be so lost without you,” Mairon looked up to meet your gaze and you smiled sadly at that.

“Do not start again,” you scolded him.

“Can you at least stay for the coronation?” He pleaded but you shook your head.

“No. I must leave tonight, as soon as possible,” you leaned in to kiss his forehead and a short while of silence occurred.

It surprised you greatly but some part of you began craving to take care of him now. As if the sinful act you had just performed with him, which stained you in a way – because what else would you call lowering yourself to pleasing a Maia? – as if it had forged an attachment between you two and bound you to him indeed like he had blasphemously suggested before.

You definitely had to leave and hide from the Valar, seek your own peace of mind. But you knew already that you would be back for your sweet Mairon sooner than both of you expected.

MASTERLIST

[bookshelfdreams]

What is your Hogwarts house?

yk, I always thought it was a shame that we (here on the Overanalyzing Dumb Pop Media website) consider HP a forbidden topic; or rather, have collectively decided that, because its author is an idiot transphobe, it is unworthy of discussion. There are so many things worthy of discussion about it, about what it believes in, what roles it assigns to people, why it ultimately fails in delivering its message.

Actually, the houses are a big part of that.

What is evil in the world of HP? Not what the text says outright, not the lip-service it pays to Fascism Bad! No, what is shown as evil? What marks an evil person, and in contrast, a good one? (Aside from superficial and again, obvious traits like cruelty or intolerance)

The defining trait of the "evil" house is ambition and cunning - and intelligence. Ravenclaw might not be "the villain", but the characters placed here, when they feature at all, are often morally ambiguous or downright antagonistic. The big bad villain comes from devastating poverty, just like the secondary villain.

What does HP believe in? Well, underlying seems to be the assumption that it is inherently suspicious to want to rise above one's station. It is fine for characters to explore and make use of their natural gifts, but it is wrong and a mark of evil to have ambitions beyond that. Wanting to be better is fueled by bitterness and jealousy; in HP, you either have innate talent, or you're a fraud and a villain.

This isn't something that's put in consciously, I am almost certain of that. Rather, it stems from a cultural background, where everyone ought to stay within their class. Where good fortune, wealth and talent is a mark of God's favour, and trying to achieve better status despite not being born into it, is hubris that ought to be punished.

Now, on the surface, HP obviously rejects this. Harry himself grows up a destitute, abused orphan! Doesn't he?

But he is lifted from his old life when he learns that he was always special. Fate has marked him favourably. He is innately talented in all the right ways, and he's heir to a fortune.

Contrasting that, there's Ron, whose family is actually poor, but who bear poverty gracefully. Who would, of course, never accept charity! And who's father could have had a better, more lucrative carreer, but never had because he enjoys working in his deadend position so much! (And then look at Ron's brothers: The twins find success and a fortune by exploring their innate talents, seemingly without too much care for financial gain. Percy, otoh, who actually has career ambitions, is painted as shallow and selfish for it.)

Even of the protagonists, the one who is the most hardworking - Hermione - is also the most ruthless, even cruel and dangerous at times. And she is allowed to work for success only because all her motivation is purely academic (and also rooted in poor self-esteem). She studies for a love of studying, and because she is terrified of failure. Not because she wants to be the best.

Being the best is something you simply are. Not something you work for.

On the surface level, HP is about defeating fascism. But the whole framework of HP, its underlying worldview, is far more compatible to that of fascism than antifascim. Voldemort kind of has a point! In HP, muggles are constantly portrayed as clueless and idiotic not-people who are needlessly cruel and intolerant towards wizards. Voldemort's offense isn't thinking wizards are inherently better - the narrative believes this too - it's that he's going to far. He's targeting other wizards and that's inacceptable.

Because in the world of HP, the traits and talents you're born with determine your worth as a person. They're the mark of goodness and achieving success beyond your "station", that's evil.

In the world of HP, not everyone is born free and equal. From birth, it is determined whether you're good or evil, and that's unchangeable (which is why there's so little character development in the entire book series). Redemption is impossible. At 11 years old, your character is declared in front of everyone, and this is unchangeable.

So, to answer your question: idk, man. I'm 35, I'm beyond that age when you want to categorize yourself into a neat little box. I don't think people can be easily divided into "brave heros", "loyal servants", "kinda suspicious nerds", and "evil masterminds", we're more complicated than that.

[charliemwrites]

Making this a separate post because the idea has evolved a bit:

(Was talking about this in the discord if it looks familiar)

I’m thinking less of a 1 to 1 Greek god au. I’m thinking it’s more of a theme to their dynamic and in parts of their story.

Johnny is a reincarnation of some ancient, nameless (or many-named) god, associated with dark forces. He’s not evil incarnate. But he is something of a representation of “darker” human nature. Anger, bloodlust, impatience, selfishness.

Persephone!reader, by comparison, is sort of a personification of gentler human nature. Patience, mercy, altruism, gentleness. She is less “awakened” so to speak because her mother has been a major limiting factor in her life. Like, helicopter parent to the extreme.

Persephone!reader goes to her aunt Laswell as a sort of compromise. See the world, the real world, in a controlled sort of way with her aunt watching carefully over her shoulder.

Problem is, no one is expecting the dreams to start as soon as she gets to base. Dreams of a man that scares her as much as tempts her, and encouraging the worst and most selfish of her impulses. She doesn’t tell anyone - why would she? They’re just dreams.

Captain MacTavish scares intimidates her, even though she insists that he doesn’t, looking him in the eye with her chin tilted up defiantly. When he’s on base he finds all sorts of ways to cross her path, sometimes teasing her into an indignant fluster, other times telling her off for “distracting recruits”. Always, always has an eye on her, even if it’s not his own.

Once things come to a head (I haven’t figured out how yet) Persephone!reader insists it isn’t fair. And just because they’ve been something in the past doesn’t mean they have to now.

Johnny, of course, is utterly amused. She’s barely got any idea what’s going on, but sure, she’s going to deny forces beyond life and death.

They strike a deal. When he’s away (for months at a time… a season’s length, even) she can run and hide and do whatever she wants to “escape” him. If he cant find her within a week of coming back, then he’ll leave her be and she’s “free”.

(She scoffs that he’s going to cheat, using her aunt and all of her connections but he just scoffs. As if Laswell would help him over her own niece. And as if he needs the help.)

He always finds her within a day of coming back from a mission. No matter where she is or what her name is. No matter how well she covers her tracks (even with Laswell’s help). He comes to her with gifts.

At first it would be sweet if not for the smirk on his face and the realization that she’s “lost” again. He brings flowers of all kinds, and green plants in little pots. Then it’s a new sweater, a nice coat, a piece of jewelry.

And then… and then they get worse. A bullet is the first sign. It’s just a whole bullet, her name engraved in its side. Then it’s a casing, the bullet clearly having been shot. He tells her it went right between someone’s eyes. The “gifts” become patches from enemy jackets, pretty stones splattered with dried blood, a human tooth.

It’s awful. She hates it. She can’t ever make herself say it (or believe it). And when he’s gone, she physically can’t make herself throw them away. Shes tried and tried, and the last time she put a real effort into it, she ended up on the floor having a panic attack, sobbing and calling Johnny.

(He purrs at her through the phone, gunfire background noise while he soothes her back inside. His voice keeps her company while she makes a tea, readies a bath. Tuts at her to call him again when she’s tucking into bed. She refuses to acknowledge that she does.)

Similarly, she finds herself getting or making things for him. For his inevitable return. Cigars and his favorite whiskey. Making patches for his uniform. A leather bracelet with her initials on a silver charm. A ring with an inlay the color of her eyes. Doesn’t even realize what she’s doing until she’s home or the thing is done. She’ll hide them away for months with no plans of giving them to Johnny. He inevitable finds them within his first week home anyway.

(There’s the one time she bakes for him, humming as she measures and mixes ingredients. Lets him steal tastes from the bowl and lick flour off her cheek. Only realizes what she’s done in a domestic haze when he’s eaten the sweet treat and thanked her for it.)

And when he’s home…

The deal is that when he’s home, he gets to treat her like his. Climbs into her bed, grumbling about pillows being a poor substitute for him. Steps into her shower midway through, ducking his head so she can shampoo and condition his hair with her gentle hands. Dresses her in his clothes, in his dog tags. Always has a hand on her, even in her (their) home.

And he delights in yanking her into his lap - especially in public. When his team comes to visit (and they always do) he lounges with her on his thigh. He’s also kind of a dick. Like he’s courteous to servers (mainly female ones because chances are they won’t flirt with his girl) but pretty much any stranger talking to him or his Persephone is met with smarmy asshole behavior.

It’s to the point that she just fusses at him to let her talk to people. And he’s happy to do so, amused by the way she charms people. He only intervenes when someone is rude or a little too friendly with her. She’s had to break up bar fights before because god knows his men won’t try to stop their captain.

She is literally the only being in all of history that can tell him no and stop and he’ll listen regardless of the situation. She has to actively remind herself that it’s not healthy and she should not be a little flattered about it. And she’s not. (She is.)

[a-minke-whales-tale]

The Struggle of Misanthropy

I find myself often struggling with feelings of Misanthropy, they are to me not feelings I particularly like. I know where they come from and why they exist, and even though I do not like them, I understand where they come from and that it is not unreasonable for me to have them. (Continued below the break - Length: 2078 words)

I find that often the community has this push against misanthropy and for particular positivity of humans and humanity, even to the point of shaming those of us who have those feelings including from trauma and hurt. I have a couple friends on here who have expressed either in general or to me that feeling that they have to hide those feelings or worry I will react badly to it. I feel it myself worrying about expressing particular anger for things done to me.

I do think there are multiple types and levels of misanthropy, and it seems likely we are using the same word for different experiences, and perhaps I am using this word wrong. I had discussed this topic after some back and forth with Rani on the subject and determined that we were more or less talking about different aspects of the same word but maybe there is another word that better describes my own relationship with humanity.

There is that misanthropy that seems to take the form of ecofascism, of humans being a virus or particularly evil or destructive. There is misanthropy that takes the form mainly of a belief in superiority in themselves over the humans for various justifications. There is the misanthropy that stems largely from hurt from the actions of humans to the individual themselves that seems to come as fear and distrust and discontentment towards them. I am certain there is a lot of other varieties and there can be crossover between them.

I do not think humans are inherently evil or even uniquely destructive beyond their numbers and intelligence. Heck the penis worm may have ended the Ediacaran. Nor do I think the bad things humans have done to myself, and others, is something inherent to them. Humans are a very communal species who only survived off their collaboration between each other and other animals, but now live in a very stressful environment that encourages individuality and often rewards cruelty. Painted Dogs similarly are very communal and cooperative animals in their packs but confined to captivity can kill each other. A similar story exists for orca as well especially during the earlier days of captivity. Nor do I believe myself superior to the humans. I do find these first two types of misanthropy rather frustrating, but still like my own experience, it seems mostly to come from hurt people, people who have been abused by humans with power over them, people who have been isolated from their communities. I do not think most people come to hating humans just from the blue. My companion for instance does often echo the humans are a cancer idea from their own pain. It is at times frustrating, but I understand at least where it comes from, all the pain within them.

For myself I experience the third type. I do not hate the humans, but I do not particularly like them. I fear them. I distrust them. For me, the humans are in charge, and I have to obey them. They control the food; they control where I live; they control what happens to me and how much I hurt. If I obey them then things will be better for me. I am allowed to live outside of a hospital because I have been good and obedient. I am allowed to have my own life because I have been good and obedient. The humans have hurt me, and they continue to hurt me.

One of the common retorts to this is that it isn't fair to humans to judge them all for the actions of a few. The problem is it is not just a few, and it is not something in the past, it is something ongoing still. I still have to take pills I do not want that keep my body in this human form to be able to live outside a hospital, and if I did not take them I would be put away again and forced still to take the pills, and every step I refused to comply would only result in greater restriction until I complied or could no longer resist. It is true though only a few humans hurt me directly, only a few humans twisted my body into this shape and only a few humans did everything that was done to me in hospitals. But how many humans work in those hospitals supporting those doctors? How many humans enforce the will of those doctors and hospitals? How many people support what was done to myself and others, think that it is right and best for us, or sometimes even a gift? How many people think that what was done to me was necessary? How many think it is just how things are, maybe it isn't great but it cannot be changed? Not all of these people are equally culpable certainly, but the number of people who support this system which hurts us is really very high and I see it constantly all the time, even in just the small jokes people make. While only a few humans hold immediate power over me, in every human, or creature that fills the role of a human, for me is fear, is a need that I must obey, for they have an incredible power over me to hurt me if I do not give them what they want, and that if they do hurt me, even if they broke the rules of their society, no human would ever help me. For me, complete submission to the demands of the humans (at least externally) is the only way for my continued existence and my presence to be tolerated, and the pain I am given to be minimised.

Do not think therians are excused or immune from this; many therians do the same to us as well. I do find many therians extremely human. I find often their concerns, their desires, and their biases are often very human just with a little bit more. I know a number of people have described therianthropy as essentially human+. Therianthropy is a pretty wide spectrum of experience, and it is not inherently wrong to be on the more human side of that experience, I am simply unable to relate to it, but because of the biases many of them carry, they often hurt those like me, and you reading this may perpetuate things that do hurt those like me.

I have never really felt welcome in the therian community despite being here for near a decade now. It was not until around two or three years ago I felt comfortable to call myself a therian. I have schizophrenia and clinical zoanthropy (often shortened to CLCZ here), or those are at least the humans’ explanations of what I experience/d. The community has for a long time not been good to zoanthropes. I have been unwelcome in a lot of communities and it was often made clear to me over and over my experience was not the same as theirs. In order to be tolerated generally it had to be a fairly accepting community, normally of older therians, but with the caveat that if I ever described my experience I would have to play down my experience. I would have to always reassure everyone that I knew I was experiencing a delusion, and that none of it was real, not like their experiences were. I have been continuously isolated from what is ostensibly my own community, and in a community of outsiders, still an outsider, at best merely tolerated at the edge, but still an interloper in -their- space. In an almost mirror of a phrase I see often from therians of “too human to be with animals, to animal to be among human,” I am too human to be among my kind, but still too animal for many therians.

Things have gotten a bit better in the past decade, and particularly so on tumblr of people becoming more open with things like physical non-humanity. I am happy to have joined here, for one the relative anonymity means I can sometimes talk back, sometimes try to fight just a little bit and be heard, but also for the connections I have made, particularly with Dune, Sonar, Xem and Ike. I am very happy to have met other CLCZs. I do not feel so alone, there are others like me out there, and there are others like me on here, others I can connect with finally.

Still despite this, discussions of us not being welcome come up often. Anytime physical non-humanity comes up it does often come to demonising CLCZs as insane, dangerous, or needing serious help. Similarly, too many therians seem very eager to throw CLCZs under the bus when it comes to justifying their existence, particularly to the broader public and anti-kin. For the most part I can avoid it, but still, it keeps popping up. Even among those who do defend us and accept us, there is still a price for us to be tolerated. Many times, the justification why CLCZs are acceptable (particularly in the context of discussions of P-shifters) is that we acknowledge our experiences as delusion and that it is important that we tag our posts with unreality and delusion. Some people will say that those tags do not mean that the experiences are not real they just do not occur in -Reality-. For me at least I read it that the price of being tolerated is still to say my experiences are not real, my past and the things done to me and others is not real. I am tired of having to deny my own experiences as genuine for the comfort of others, I am tired of having to double bookkeep in every aspect of my life, including the places that are supposed to be safe and an outlet for me. I know what the humans think of my condition, and for that matter many therians, but I think I will stop tagging my experience with unreality and delusion, because they are not. I often think to drop the label for myself for feeling unwelcome and instead just use zoanthrope, even if that does not accurately capture myself either as it is still a word given to us by the humans for a delusion, but at least it is my community where I am welcome.

The truth is though, I do not hate the humans. I desire very much reconciliation. Still, as I am being actively hurt by the humans how -can- there be any reconciliation? I am very fortunate to have a few therians and even a couple of humans in my life I can be pretty open with about my experience. I know reconciliation is possible, but even with these close humans and therians (who for me fill the role of a human), I feel that I must obey them to be tolerated, not for their own actions, but for the scars on me from the actions of many humans.

Someday I will return to the water – I cannot survive in the wild – and likely I will go into a tank. I hope, when I do, I will be with my other cetacean friends. The humans did do me a number of kindnesses and made me clever enough that I can more or less fix my body and return to the water. I think only once there can reconciliation begin, with the main point of obedience removed and the cruellest damage the humans did to me, that of being forced to be human. I know that life as a captive cetacean would not be perfect and would carry with it many struggles and pain, and I have no doubt the humans will still hurt me some, I do not expect that others will never hurt me again – I will still often have to obey the humans, but now more as a cetacean than a human. But at least back in the water I could be myself, from the water I could look up at the humans on the edge of the tank and know that I survived and I persisted and I am free. Perhaps I may even bond with some kind trainers. In time those deep scars across me will start to fade – and with it that anger, that fear, that distrust. Though those scars will never fully heal, they will begin to look like the scars on many other captive cetaceans and we -can- reconcile at last.

Zwem ver, zwem vrij, kleine walvis, zwem voor altijd

~Kala

[ohwolfling]

Anna, defined by her goodness in the sense of the time, wears a cross (plus the film takes place around Christmas and Anna is with child). She happily allows Ellen to snuggle up to her in bed, like one of her children, perhaps like her husband. As Ellen runs her hands over Anna's cross (also runs her hands over Anna's hands), Anna tells her, "You may take it, if you wish."

There is no station, rank, or purity that Anna values over Ellen. She would give it all up willingly for the love she holds for Ellen.

It is only after this that Orlok comes to Anna. This echoes Ellen's "Does evil come from within us or beyond?" Is the loss of her crucifix some loss of her protection from God? Is it a coincidence? Is it perhaps an additional cruelty from Orlok, to mock a true Christian woman, and so he chooses to strike her in that moment?

Whatever it is, it almost condemns God and certainly the central European Patriarchal Christianity that Anna is in service of. It does not protect Anna. It does not protect her children. It did not protect Ellen when she was a child.

Crosses litter the film, some for protection, others as iconographic background noise. In particular, I felt a sickly "huh" seeing this shot. The world is a church. The world is graveyard.

[electronickingdomfox]

USS Enterprise decks

Updated part 1 here

Updated part 2 here

This post got me thinking about the actual location inside the ship of several areas. Sure, there are many blueprints and reference books that have published complete and detailed layouts of the Enterprise. But ultimately, they're interpretations of different authors, filling in the blanks, and they often disagree with each other.

So this is a list of the bare minimum of facts. All the deck locations that can be gleaned from TOS episodes. Beyond that, it's up to anyone's imagination.

*Feel free to make additions or corrections to this post. This is only in reference to the original ship as seen in the series, not taking into account the refit ship from the movies, or alterations/retcons introduced in later series.

Saucer section (primary hull)

Most locations seen in the series belong to this section (as deduced from the curved corridors). The first version of the Writer's Guide tell us it has 20 decks. The later edition (season 2 onwards) reduced the decks to 11.

Deck 1

-Bridge: Obvious from a simple inspection of the ship's exterior. And also confirmed by the Writer's Guide to be in this deck.

Deck 2

-The Romulan Commander's "guest" quarters: Spock tells the turbolift to bring them to this deck, before leaving her in detention, in "The Enterprise Incident". I don't think we ever see other location said to be here (maybe she got the whole deck for herself; lucky!).

Deck 3

-Recreation room 6: Rand offers Charlie to come here, in "Charlie X".

-Recreation room 3: Spock says Bele is chasing Lokai in front of this place, in "Let That Be Your Last Battlefield".

-Crewmen's lounge: Same as above.

Deck 4

-Environmental control: Scotty says power's been shut down here, in "The Ultimate Computer".

-Living quarters: Kirk confirms this, in "The Ultimate Computer".

Deck 5

-Sickbay: Kirk brings Spock to this deck after ordering him to report to sickbay, in "Amok Time". He does the same with Elaan of Troyius. Strangely enough, most blueprints place sickbay in deck 7 instead.

-Kirk's quarters: Confirmed in "Journey to Babel", which also shows the cabin number (3F 121). The same number was first seen in "The Conscience of the King", but without specifying the deck.

-Recreation room 3: Spock says Bele is chasing Lokai in front of this place, in "Let That Be Your Last Battlefield". May be a script error, since a moment ago he had said this place was in deck 3.

-Transporter room: As Lokai seems to run directly here, we may assume it's also in deck 5 (though there are probably many more transporter rooms throughout the ship).

Deck 6

-Briefing room: Sargon calls McCoy from here, in "Return to Tomorrow". May be the same briefing room from other episodes.

-Guest rooms: Bele and Lokai are assigned quarters here, in "Let That Be Your Last Battlefield".

-Living quarters: Kirk confirms this, in "The Ultimate Computer".

Deck 8

-Auxiliary control: The android Norman hijacks the controls here, in "I, Mudd".

-Evaluation laboratory: Seen on a plaque, in "And the Children Shall Lead". Kirk and Spock arrived on this deck in search for Auxiliary control, so it should be in deck 8 as well.

Deck 12

-Janice Rand's quarters: In "The Enemy Within", after seeing Rand attacked by evil Kirk, a crewman reports they're in deck 12. The number of her cabin is also visible (3C 46).

-Kirk's quarters: In very early episodes ("Mudd's Women" and "The Enemy Within"), Kirk's quarters were here, instead of in deck 5. Since the number of saucer decks was reduced to 11 in season 2, the change makes sense.

Deck 14

-Transporter room: In "Dagger of the Mind", Dr. Van Gelder is locked in this deck, after arriving inside a cargo box.

-Personnel Director office: Seen on a plaque during Van Gelder's escape.

-Science Library: Same as above.

Unknown deck

These are some locations, likely from the saucer section, but with unspecified deck. There are plenty of such examples, so this isn't an exhaustive list.

-Impulse engines: The Writer's Guide confirms that the impulse engines are in the primary hull, in case of saucer separation. I think the impulse engines are only seen in "The Doomsday Machine", when Scotty is working aboard the identical Constellation. Though they look just as a reused set from Engineering.

-Spock's quarters: The cabin number is seen in "Amok Time" (3F 125). Possibly, it's in deck 5 near Kirk's quarters, considering the similar numbering.

-McCoy's quarters: Only seen in "The Man Trap" (I think), which also shows the number (3F 127). Again, it's probably near Kirk and Spock's cabins.

-Mudd's quarters: The number is barely legible, but looks like 3F 125, in "Mudd's Women". This happens to be the same as Spock's cabin. The likely explanation is that they didn't have a design for Spock's quarters so early in the series. The fun explanation is that they evicted Spock just to make room for Mudd.

-Uhura's quarters: Seen in "The Tholian Web", and adapted for Elaan in "Elaan of Troyius".

-Scotty's quarters: Seen in "By Any Other Name".

-Life Science Section - Botany Department: Seen in "The Man Trap".

-Gymnasium: Seen in "Charlie X".

-Officer's mess: Seen in "Space Seed".

-Botanical garden: Seen in "Is There in Truth No Beauty?".

-Briefing room: Different from the usual briefing room, it's seen in "Space Seed" when they decide Khan's fate.

-Biochemistry lab: Seen in "The Deadly Years".

Since I've reached the picture limit, the continuation with the Engineering hull sets will be in another post, here.

[houltsworld]

"Does evil come from within us or from beyond?"

NOSFERATU, starring Lily-Rose Depp, Nicholas Hoult, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Willem Dafoe and Emma Corrin. Only in theaters this Christmas.

[outofangband]

Posted about it briefly here and in a few other posts on the description of the Darkening from Morgoth’s Ring, but the shadow of Morgoth over Finwë is something I find so compelling and horrifying.

Morgoth to the early elves is this darkness manifested, this nameless monster called a dozen things in the dawn of the Quendi language, when the anguish he caused, stealing elves in the shadows, the fear wrought by the uncanny creatures that stalked them, barely had words to describe it.

Morgoth appearing to the elves as the dark rider, cementing himself in their collective memory and nightmares to the point where they do not trust Oromë when he comes to them is such a cruel detail I think

But some do eventually trust Oromë and through the Valar, Morgoth is given a name, an explanation and an identity. He is not a sole power but part of a system. There is relief, even religion for some, in this.

The physical power he wields over them does not change but he is no longer a faceless evil in the shadows and thus lessens the power, the reach of his fear. And also through the Valar comes the offer of protection. Perhaps it is because of their kinship to the monster that haunted the elves that some refused or fled the offer.

Finwë is not among those. He accepts and his people come to Valinor and then Morgoth comes to Valinor in chains. He has a distinct physical form, one that can be bound and confined. And bound and confined he is

And so the nightmare of Morgoth is relegated to the nightmares of sleep, to dark murals and whispered tales. The grim memories remain

Even upon his release, even though there was whispers of resentment, betrayal, fear and fury at the decision of the Valar to unleash the monster that had overshadowed them…Morgoth is no longer the nightmare, the dark rider. He still has a distinct form, and when his influence spreads beyond limbs and the boundaries of his robes, they can be written off as the influence of nightmares, of change and uncertainty. Melkor walks beneath the same light as they do, closely watched by powers believed to match or beat his own.

Things do change when that influence is shown to have been the deliberate work of Melkor. I do not doubt that in addition to the direct result of interfering in the Noldorin royal family, Melkor hoped to undermine the Valar more generally, to sew fear, mistrust and uncertainty. And he succeeded in that.

I wonder sometimes if Finwë agreed to go in exile with Fëanor in the hopes that a smaller realm would allow him some higher degree of control. He could see the enemy coming and would not have to second guess the motives in the faces of his subjects, aides and neighbors.

Of course he does not see the enemy coming on that day when the lights have gone out. But Finwë feels him.

But even as we drew near to Formenos the darkness came upon us; and in the midst was a blackness like a cloud that enveloped the house of Fëanor.

This is what Maedhros says in his testimony to Manwë in Morgoth’s Ring. I imagine Finwë felt that mist of blackness envelop his house. Indeed, Maedhros also testified that his grandfather had felt uncertain, agitated and troubled from the start of the day, even before the trees were attacked, it was why he decided to remain while Fëanor had gone. Was it foresight? A premonition of dread?

Regardless, he must have known as he faced the demon upon his threshold that he would not survive this encounter. I imagine he wondered if his grandsons had already been struck down, perhaps even took some fleeting comfort in the knowledge that he would know within moments.

[woodsie]

Shadow Yosuke’s Symbolism

I recently got a friend to play Persona 4 and we were talking about the symbolism of each of the character’s shadow selves, when we came to the realisation that neither of us really knew what Yosuke’s was meant to represent.

Chie’s represented her relationship with Yukiko. Yukiko’s her desire for freedom but lack of action in taking it. Yosuke has… a ninja frog…?

So I’ve done some digging.

Official Statements

The first thing I did was look at the official concept art sheet for shadow Yosuke. This primarily detailed that as the first of the shadows, they wanted it to be very obvious that their shadow’s and persona’s were the same thing.

This is done quite well and tells players subtly that they are the same without being obvious.

Jiraiya does look a lot like shadow Yosuke. The main body’s colour is inverted from black (evil) to white (good), the frogs eyes are added to Jiraiya’s head and the frog’s mouth becomes a chest piece, with the frog’s skin pattern carried over to the cuffs of Jiraiya’s clothes.

Jiraiya is easily the most similar persona to shadow. Important for early game. This idea is also helped by Tomoe looking very similar to shadow Chie, and allows the idea of persona’s and shadow’s being the same to be cemented into the players minds before they meet shadow Yukiko who is visually very different to Konohana-Sakuya.

Jiraiya In Folklore

My next step was to look for any symbolism between Yosuke and the story of Jiraiya himself. Granted, as a white woman™️ my knowledge of Japanese folklore is limited but I will summarise my findings and compare them to Yosuke’s story directly.

[Sorry for the weird formatting, I’m working around the 10 image post limit]

Both stories open with a character from an influential background and moving to a new area.

Jiraiya’s stance as a robber could be in reference to the fact that Junes is taking business away from local businesses and their families.

Saki could be taking the place of the woman in the house. Regardless of if she actually likes him, she is kind to him when others are not. This is something Yosuke admires greatly but it still doesn’t prevent Junes from ruining the Konishi’s business.

His shadow self is then a reference to the old man/magic frog. It recognises him from who he is, and although the shadow is hostile its intention is to teach Yosuke about the parts of himself he is trying to hide so he can reconcile with those feelings. This is what allows him to gain his persona, or in other words “teaching him magic”

Gaining his persona is what helps set Yosuke’s resolve and desire to avenge Saki and the others who have suffered due to the killer. He shows a distinct intelligence and is often the one to piece together vital information. Without him insisting they investigate Saki’s murder, the Investigation Team might not have ever existed. In that sense you could consider him a hero.

A good portion of his social link is devoted to him coming to terms with his situation, both around the murders and his place within Inaba. He frequently talks about feelings of loneliness and a desire to be valued, and he finds comfort in having his persona and being able to do something about what’s going on, it gives him some control over his life which he lost by coming to Inaba in the first place. Overtime though he does come to love Inaba as a whole and recognises that it’s the people around you that really make a place special. He’s not alone anymore and he’s far happier for it.

Other Potential Inspirations

In my attempts at seeing what others online think about potential symbolism for Yosuke’s shadow, I found that most people also did not understand what his shadow was meant to represent. However, I did come across a few older threads of people sharing possible ideas.

One of which was of a Chinese story about a frog in a well. The story related to narrow mindedness and limited perspective as the frog is unaware of life beyond the well and is amazed by it when told what it has to offer. This could be a potential reference to his dismissal of country life and him growing to love the town.

[mytypeismohg]

Wow I never thought I'd see people aggressively going after Ansbach now, just because they can't dig up enough shit on Mohg lmao. Nearly everyone knows Mohg is kinda crazy and obviously blood thirsty, that has nothing to do with Miquella’s actions. Mohg was stated to have abducted and experimented on the War Surgeons and a merchant for some reason, and corrupted plenty of Tarnished. Just as the game made it quite explicit that Miquella has charmed MANY people, and that, yes, his charm "compels love". WAY before the dlc...Do I believe Mohg’s romantic attraction specifically was caused by Miquella? No. I believe that's a Mohg thing, or Mohg is just a remnant of some cut disturbing lore. The obsessive and serving attitude? Yes. That is literally a part of Miquella’s bewitchment. There's a reason the prattling pate "My beloved" is found in the Haligtree, because despite love being "fickle" in the Lands Between, love for Miquella is very common.

"The Empyrean Miquella is loved by many people".

The dlc actually seemed to tone down the obsessive behavior for Miquella by his charmed subjects ironically lol, more so putting them in a passive sedation with their goals still partially intact (unless it affects his own, like Thiollier and Ansbach. Hornsent still remembers his hatred for Messmer etc.) rather than 24/7 guarding a single Miquella’s Lilly with their life and blowing themselves up in desperation, hoping for his return.

"Spirits of common soldiers who carry the sacred light. When weakened, they explode to deliver a last-ditch attack. This was the bitter revelation discovered by the desperate soldiers who awaited the return of their lord to the rotted Haligtree. May the flash of our deaths guide Miquella's return."

I agree the whole "Miquella is literally Griffith, Miquella is more evil than Marika, Miquella is literally Satan" stuff is dumb, but he isn't some defenseless 'damsel in distress' either. (That might be Godrick /jk)

We all know that Miquella can use powerful holy incantations due to the dlc, but a cut item seems to suggest he had that power far before his attempted ascension.

From Sekiro Dubi on X/Twitter -

Miquella has power beyond his charming abilities, he literally obtained/learned these types of incantations from Radagon.

"One of the incantations of the Golden Order fundamentalists. Produces three rings of light and fires them forwards. The rings of light return to a position close to the caster before disappearing. This incantation can be cast repeatedly. A gift from the young Miquella to his father, Radagon."

Miquella is not weak and helpless, he only appears to be due to his curse. He's literally called "the most fearsome Empyrean" for a reason.

Ansbach has nothing to do with anything, I could have easily deduced that Miquella was brainwashing people far before the dlc, the evidence is right there in the base game. Just like somehow some ppl are shocked to find out that Trina is a part of Miquella and think the dlc added that in too. It was all there from the beginning.

Speaking of that, why does no one find Thiollier's obsessive love for Trina odd too? She's part of Miquella.

"Silver sword carried by clerics of St. Trina. Inflicts sleep ailment upon foes.St. Trina is an enigmatic figure. Some say she is a comely young girl, others are sure he is a boy. The only certainty is that their appearance was as sudden as their disappearance."

"A talisman depicting a smiling St. Trina, a vision conjured deep within a certain man's heart. Raises attack power when sleep is triggered in the vicinity. 'Only I am allowed to know. Of your velvety sleep. Its sweetly gentle embrace. So please, smile—for me, and only me.'"

Certain man is Thioller obviously.

Unrelated but I wonder if the description on the Torch was suggesting what may have happened to Trina had she ascended along with Miquella.

"Candlestand torch that burns with a light-purple flame. The carvings depict St. Trina, but in adult form, somewhat unnervingly.

The light-purple flame induces sleep"

[asoulwithadream]

Arthur Morgan is the best character in fiction. Whilst in-game he's already amazing, his detailed and complex thoughs in his brilliant journal are a reminder to his brilliance. I'll update this list as I continue through my second playthrough.

"I love Dutch like a father, but in many ways, I love Hosea even more. He's kind and fair and like a human being. Dutch is something else."

"This FEUD, it's bled out from Dutch and Colm's mutual hatred into a loathing that permeates all of us and all of them."

"This work mostly revolts me and shames me. Somehow, robbing people honestly with a gun and fists is less repellant than robbing them full in accordance with the law. A usurer's life may be a comfortable one, but it is foul work."

"Saw Mary again. I feel like the luckiest man alive and I feel like a fool. That woman confuses me and plays me for a fiddle like no one else alive."

"I wonder if he (Jack) will find what we seek - peace and truth away from all this nonsense and lies. If that is what we still seek? Not that that's a new development. Not sure I know myself anymore. Sometimes I'm not sure Dutch knows."

"He begged and coughed and spluttered and I beat him half to death. Such is life. Such is the world. His boy looked at me like I was the devil, and perhaps for him, I was. The whole thing confused me. Maybe that's wrong. The whole thing revolted me/my part. These sad, desperate bastards, their silly expectations of life and their tawdry reality. The unkindness of existence - I can handle that just fine. But I do not love it, nor those who try to make things otherwise, I guess."

"He's (Charles) a better man than me. He does not need to think to be good. It comes naturally to him, like right is deep within as opposed to this conflict between GOOD / EVIL that rages within me. If only we had fled west out of Blackwater, we could be free now, out where we belong beyond civilisation with the savages and the animals. Here, we won't ever be at home."

"Finally, we have achieved a state of true insanity. For the first time in my life, I'm a deputized lawman."

[undertheopensky]

In Loving Memory

Whumptober Day 29: Troubled Past Resurfacing

Characters: Legend

Trigger warnings: Hurt/No Comfort, Grief, Depression

This is not at all in the spirit of the prompt, but it’s what came to me, and it’s suitably angsty for inclusion in Whumptober!

Read on Ao3!

---

He hadn’t even been looking for it.

Link (it had taken him a long time to get used to that, again; even now he sometimes hears a voice murmur his nickname and his whole body jolts; he’s never sure if he overheard it or imagined it or what) is in the library. He’s not that interested in the books. He just – couldn’t stand to be in the house, when it keeps echoing with voices that don’t exist. And there’s only so many sad looks he can take from Fable – Zelda – before he snaps.

So he’d excused himself to one of the few places in the castle he can lose himself in without fear. People never expect to find him here, so as long as he has a book in hand and a suitable corner to look unapproachable in, anyone who does spot him will dismiss him as another Hylian scholar lost in the stacks.

He wanders along, fingers trailing through the dust on a shelf. It’s quiet, back here. Being so far from the entrance and the most heavily-trodden sections of the library muffles the noise of the castle. Makes it easy to ignore anything that might be people searching for him.

He’s so tired. He hasn’t been sleeping well, lately. Sometimes Ravio can only wake him from nightmares by calling Legend, and it helps but it hurts, waking to the wrong warm face and remembering all over again that the nickname and the people associated with it are far beyond his reach.

He’s had to say goodbye before, but usually not with such finality. He’ll run into Din on the road again someday; Ralph will turn up when he’s least needed; Gulley comes back from Kakariko to visit every month.

This time it’s not just distance, but massive swathes of time, hundreds or thousands of years away. Or they don’t exist, and never will, because his is the broken timeline, the one where evil prospered and is barely held at bay by a few stubborn souls.

Link’s fingers catch on a spine so badly frayed it probably shouldn’t even be in circulation. He pulls it out.

RECORDS, proclaims the front, stamped into the leather and darkened with ink. Not valuable enough for gold leaf, then. Or for proper repairs. The book is old, and tattered, and shows the singed-edge pages of a book narrowly saved from a fire. Surely someone should have thrown it away by now…

Curiosity well and truly piqued, Link flips it open.

The symbol stamped on the title page makes his heart skip a beat. Four had showed him that, something like it; a Guild medallion, proving his mastery and recognition by Hyrule’s Blacksmithing Guild. At first Legend had been equal parts jealous and impressed, and then he’d just been excited, when Four offered to teach him.

Small, steady hands, with callouses more used to holding a hammer than a blade. Correcting his grip with gentle confidence. Demonstrating a technique long forgotten to Legend’s time, swinging with so much force but such a light touch on the handle –

And a rare smile when Legend’s latest attempt came out well.

Goddesses, he misses them.

Legend – Link – swipes a hand over his eyes and starts turning pages. Mindlessly reading the dust-dry entries, regularly stamped with dates and official guild signatures. One person trained seven apprentices to full mastery over their career; another died without ever training anyone and the royal court had to source someone new. None of the names are familiar. It’s all just words on a page. Then, abruptly:

ROYAL ARMOURER XXXX-XXXX IN HER MAJESTY QUEEN ZELDA THE NINTH’S REIGN

LINK “FOUR” SMITH

APPRENTICE: LINK “LEGEND” ALFONSSON.

LINK “FOUR” SMITH ATTESTS THAT HIS APPRENTICE LINK “LEGEND” ALFONSSON HAS ACQUIRED THE SKILLS NECESSARY TO BE CERTIFIED AS A BLACKSMITH WITHIN THE HYRULETOWN GUILD.

THE GUILD HAS BEEN PRESENTED WITH EVIDENCE OF LINK “LEGEND” ALFONSSON’S BLACKSMITHING WORK.

IT IS AGREED LINK “LEGEND” ALFONSSON’S BLACKSMITHING WORK IS OF SUFFICIENT QUALITY TO GRANT HIM CERTIFICATION.

IN THE YEAR XX OF HER MAJESTY QUEEN ZELDA THE NINTH’S REIGN, FULL GUILD MEMBERSHIP IS AWARDED TO LINK “LEGEND” ALFONSSON.

That’s how Zelda finds him, hours later. Curled protectively over an ancient book of boring records so his tears wouldn’t smudge the ink. Clinging to the proof that one of his brothers, long-dead, had existed. Had loved him. Had kept loving him, long after Legend departed their life.

He misses them.