#for a show about humanity and the complexity of companionship

[assmaster-8000]

the way some people speak about toshiro is disgusting. egregious ableism and racism aside yall don't even bother to call him toshiro rather than shuro like damn bitch ticking all da damn boxes

[bluemoonscape]

Ivan & Till: When One Character's Inferiority Complex Meets Another's Superiority Complex

Heavily based on this post by @pwippy

To outline what's already been said in this post about Till's apparent tendency to view himself as "superior" to his peers: There's often a mindset that those who lack companionship will adopt to protect themselves from the idea that can come with loneliness that there's something wrong with them. This idea is best summed up as "I'm alone because I'm different. I'm better than them."

Till seems to have adopted this mindset. We know based on the ALNST comics with the Ivan and Till "Cheer up!" scene that Till is lonely. He has no friends. And when Ivan bluntly points this out to Till, Till lashes out hard, hitting Ivan and knocking him to the ground before storming away. Ivan's observation got to him. It did what Ivan is always trying to do; it got a rise out of him.

To protect himself from fear (the fear that he only made it through Urak's experiments by chance, by sheer luck and not because he's better) and rejection (rejection from his peers, from Mizi, even an entire audience) Till has to convince himself in his head that there's a reason for all this. He's better off alone. He doesn't need anyone. Even Mizi, who he adores and admires, is kept at a distance. Till is never once upfront about his feelings. He can't take that sort of rejection, ESPECIALLY not from Mizi. He eliminates the chance of rejection altogether by simply watching her from afar rather than approaching her and really trying to be her friend.

(Look at his cute little face I'm going to cry)

Even a crowd Till acts like he doesn't care about? Like he doesn't care what they think, like he's beyond caring? In Round 2, he didn't even give them a chance to reject him. He made sure they couldn't. He didn't even let his opponent sing.

Ivan, on the other hand, doesn't seem all that concerned about rejection. Unlike Till's fear with Mizi, Ivan is all over Till and isn't deterred when Till reacts to his teasing with irritation. This doesn't mean Ivan isn't hurt by Till's rejections, specifically Till's last-minute decision not to run away with him, but this does mean Ivan is okay with being hurt again, and again, and again as long as he gets to be around Till.

Ivan's complete lack of care about his own mental state is the result of an inferiority complex. Ivan has absolutely no regard for his own wellbeing. He only cares about Till yet doesn't truly believe he's worthy of Till. I always find it interesting (and refreshing) that Ivan isn't jealous of Till's crush for capturing his attention. In fact, Ivan doesn't ever show signs of resenting Mizi at all. He treats her kindly and doesn't fixate on her in an unhealthy, envious way. They're friends despite the object of Ivan's affection being captivated by Mizi. While I love their dynamic and find it nice that Ivan isn't jealous of Mizi, jealousy is a natural human emotion, and Ivan's lack of it really tells me how little he thinks of himself. Why would he be jealous if he doesn't have a chance with Till in the first place? He'll content himself with existing in his orbit, thinking even this little piece of his attention is more than he deserves.

Like Till, Ivan doesn't open himself up to the chance of connection with other children at Anakt Garden, although their reasons seem inherently different. While Till fears rejection, Ivan doesn't seem to even see a point. Till asks himself "What's the point?" in an attempt to convince himself he doesn't need friends, though he doesn't believe it. Ivan asks himself the same question and genuinely doesn't know the answer. No, Ivan is not invincible to being hurt or rejected. Maybe he's past fearing any such thing at a certain point because nobody knows who he really is anyway, not even Ivan himself. How can he be afraid of someone hurting him if they can't touch him? The one time he expresses himself genuinely with Till, he knows that he won't have to deal with the consequences. He won't have to deal with the hurt that comes with being open again.

Having such radically different views of themselves, their relationships with others, and the world around them, it's no wonder Till and Ivan lack communication and understanding. As individuals, they have deeply complex psyches; Till keeps pushing people away, and Ivan keeps letting himself be pushed and then coming back around even though he already knows the result. He just doesn't see worth in anything in his life that isn't Till and this cycle. They both long for connection but don't know how to reach it. For them to come to an understanding, Ivan has to recognize his own worth (something Till uses as a defense mechanism) and Till has to open himself up to hurt (something Ivan does to an unhealthy degree).

They're identically opposite.

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere Chimeragon from School of Dragons (Pet-like)

Sure! Been a bit since I did a pet dragon concept, here you go! Sorry for the long wait :) Sorry it's a bit short.

Yandere! Chimeragon Concept

Pairing: Animal/Pet-Like

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsessive behavior, Violence, Implied murder, Possessive behavior, Isolation, Manipulation, Brief blood mention, Forced companionship.

This beast is a volatile and powerful dragon.

While primarily a cross between a Bewilderbeast and a Sentinel... it has other species mixed within it.

This Chimeragon is a volatile yet noble dragon.

One of the scariest parts about it is the fact it can breathe fire, lightning, and ice.

Due to it's aggressive nature, you can only really successfully train one from an egg.

These dragons are mostly man-made anyways.

So you'd most likely get yours as an egg... but even then they can be a pain to train.

This dragon I feel would just like to do what it wants, even if you train it.

This is no doubt due to the primary Bewilderbeast genes.

This dragon feels it has a superiority complex, even if it isn't full a "King of Dragons".

It can be hard to control, even when it's young.

Which is why I feel having this dragon be overprotective can be dangerous to those around you.

To make this dragon attached it clearly has some level of respect for you.

Yet it also feels like it knows best for you.

Even when you scold your Chimeragon for snapping at another dragon or human... it just tolerates it.

It doesn't fully take your scolding to heart.

Your dragon feels it knows what's best for you.

In a way you can argue that your dragon feels you belong to it....

This dragon seems like it would come off as entitled.

If anyone came over to you, they're met with an elemental blast and a roar.

Your Chimeragon probably doesn't even care if it hurts or even kills those around you.

The upsetting part is the lack of control.

Your dragon trains you, essentially.

You may have to isolate yourself for the sake of others.

Which is no doubt exactly what the Chimeragon wants.

You living in the middle of nowhere... with no one around... and all your attention being on your dragon?

That's what your Chimeragon wants indeed.

Until it manages to isolate you, it will be violent towards others.

If you show sadness at your predicament, your dragon distracts you.

With this dragon... it's best you isolate with it soon.

Because it will no doubt cause a bloody scene just to keep you to itself.

[lulystalgianature]

How the finale singlehandedly managed to make The Collector the most tragic character in The Owl House:

It says a lot when a crew demonstrates their talent by creating such a complex character with so little time left. The Collector (Naturally, spoilers ahead) Many suspected the redemption. But it’s not just the fact that it happened. It’s the way it was handled. So, let’s do a recap on how everything went, shall we?

Betrayed and used by the Archivists. His siblings. Family. The ones who are suppose to love, teach and protect you. Thrown away into an unknown planet, full of the only creatures that could overcome their magic.

Said family destroyed what were likely the Collector’s first, genuine friends.

Locked away by one of the very same species he had befriended for what his siblings did, for who knows how many years, being alone and forgotten for something they didn’t do.

Finally found by a human, whom the kid really thought was his friend, even trying to amuse his homicidal delusions.

Helped fulfill the man’s objective, but instead of being released as promised, is discarded like garbage along a mountain of corpses.

Get his freedom back after almost giving up, considering King a friend despite initially suspecting even him. A time to rejoice and play, unaware of the damage and trauma being done and becoming dangerously protective of his new friend.

Luz, someone King has talked about a lot and is even jealous of, comes back, apparently to destroy him and take King away, and yet, the Collector never means any genuine harm and is so desperate for companionship that wants to befriend even her. Looks so happy at the possibility of the trio befriending him that is completely unaware he’s being manipulated again.

Gets hurt in all the games being summoned, completely unaware that his new playmates are simply surviving. 

Having lived with a madman that destroyed the Grimwalkers he created for hundreds of years only to recreate them again? No wonder he thought even mortal life was as easy to fix as any broken toy, which he demonstrates so casually.

Instead of retaliating, the kid chooses to sulk in a corner, so tired of being used and hurt that it didn’t take long for Luz, the second human he ever met, to get them to open up and explain everything. So disheartened he is about being used and betrayed that tries to force himself to accept the pretending part of everything, even friendship.

Is taught a lesson in friendship, which is taken by heart, to the point the Collector tries it on Belos of all people, someone he helped for +400 years only to cruelly betray him. 

He truly wanted everyone to be friends and learn to forgive, even turning back to Luz to show her how much they learned, even looking like he wants her to be proud of him.

Sees his new friend get killed in front of him and not even his magic can do anything about anything. 

Not only is his new friend gone, but there’s much damage he indirectly caused, like trying to befriend Belos and accidentally gave him the idea to possess the Titan. Not to mention the trauma he caused to all the residents of the isles. 

Suddenly, we see the Collector’s true nature. A scared, overpowered little kid who didn’t know any better because everybody he met used him and never taught him the value of life. He just wanted friends. And now, he can only watch helplessly as his remaining friends go mad with grief and fury, and not even his powers can save them.

Tears for the first time. Despite everything the kid’s been through, it’s Luz’s death that affects him the most. Luz, the human who got them to open up, who was so patient and kind, who didn’t hesitate for a second to save him from Belos’ blast and even assured him they did good, was now gone. All that was left for him is to apologize for everything and beg Eda and King to run away.

Luz is back to save them from certain death, but it wasn’t his magic that brought her back and he must’ve known that. She looked like a Titan and was even using their magic, which he recognized earlier. Plus he also acknowledged Titans were more powerful than anyone, even Collectors. But there was no time to rejoice or process everything immediately. What mattered most is that she was back, even clinging to her subconsciously so he wouldn’t lose her again. 

But Belos was still a threat. Not even the Collector’s powers were enough to stop him anymore. He did the only thing he could do to help; keep the Archives afloat. Despite being weakened and struggling, he actually takes the time to smile at the Hexsquad to demonstrate the friendliness and will to help.

Belos is gone. The Collector is exhausted, but probably still more than capable enough of taking on the Hexsquad with a snap of his fingers. Instead, he chooses to cower, bracing themselves for any potential scold or punishment, preferring that over the risk of hurting anybody else ever again.

Tears for the second time, this time in absolute relief and happiness. The people he innocently tormented so much were offering peace and friendship. 

Despite the hardship and trials, the Collector chooses to return to the stars alone for some growth, a sharp contrast from the kid who didn’t want to be alone. But... this shows how much they learned and matured. Not only can they watch the Boiling Isles better from the sky, but it also gives everyone a chance to get used to him and take the time forgive him for everything. 

And yet... he can visit whenever he wants. He’s free at last. Free to make choices. King considers him a real friend now, and he’s likely in the process of making more... all thanks to Luz, whom he shows gratitude to by not only gifting her a portal door to come and go whenever she pleases, but also giving her a spectacular display of light for her birthday. 

In the end, after everything the Collector has been through... that’s one heck of a character development. Even though Luz was used by the same person, at least she had many friends and parental figures in her life. The Collector didn’t have any of that. His only genuine friends were eliminated and spent possibly eons imprisoned in a dark realm, being used and manipulated for hundreds of years, with nobody there to play with or befriend.

Bonus: Being himself... saved many lives. By turning everybody into puppets not only spared them of the horror that would come later, but by gathering everybody in one single place also saved every citizen on the isles. Just imagine the number of casualties we would've gotten when Titan Belos started blasting everything on sight and raising the corpse's arm while everybody was still scattered.

[juju-or-anya]

I ship Zutara and I don't believe Aang is the Antichrist, despicable, misogynistic, depraved, or an abuser, as many paint him to be.

Let's dive deeper into the vast ocean of analysis regarding Zutara shipping and the complexities of the Avatar characters!

Exploring the Reasons Behind My Preference for Zutara and Zuko as the Best Option for Katara:

If you ask me why I choose Zutara and Zuko for Katara, it's a tale of dense and multifaceted layers. While I respect the idea that Katara could have progressed as a character while single, the reality is, if I must choose a partner for her, my heart leans toward Zuko.

From a young age, Katara is forced to assume adult and maternal roles due to circumstances. At 14, 15, and 16, she becomes the mother figure of the group, a dynamic that exposes her to something called parentification. This phenomenon, where a child assumes adult and motherly roles, deeply concerns me, especially when imposed on racialized girls (but that's a topic for another post). However, she's not alone in this journey. Sokka also carries this burden, assuming the role of tribe leader, protector of his sister, and head of the tribe in a world torn by war.

However, while Katara is drawn into the premature motherhood of the group, Zuko emerges as a figure of redemption. Although initially presented as an antagonist, his evolution throughout the series reveals layers of complexity and redemption. The friendship and relationship he develops with Katara represent an opportunity for both to escape predefined roles and find equality in their companionship.

Aang's Pedestal and Katara's Complexity: A Profound Reflection

Katara, like any human being, is not perfect. She has a series of flaws and weaknesses that are part of her nature. However, Aang seemed to ignore these imperfections, focusing on an idealized vision of her. What happens when Katara doesn't fit this pedestal? Aang tries to mold her according to his own beliefs and perspectives.

Take, for example, the advice about forgiveness that Aang offered Katara, specifically regarding Yon Rha. It's commendable that Aang advocates for forgiveness, but when Katara expressed her decision not to forgive, Aang didn't simply accept that choice. Instead of respecting her unique perspective on forgiveness, Aang insisted on changing her viewpoint.

This behavior is also evident in moments like the non-consensual kiss in the play episode or the lack of space for Katara to express her own feelings in "The Day of Black Sun." These are uncomfortable situations that should not be overlooked and shed light on the complexity of the relationship between Aang and Katara.

Katara: More than "The Avatar's Girl"

Another aspect I want to address is the concept of "The Avatar's Girl." I detest how this term has influenced perceptions of Katara. Despite being a formidable waterbending master and a powerful warrior, she is reduced to this stereotype that does not do justice to her true identity.

It is crucial to remember that this is the result of decisions made by writers and does not reflect the richness and depth of Katara's personality. She should not be defined by her relationship with Aang or her role as "The Avatar's Girl." She is more than that, with unique abilities and complexity beyond simple labels.

Conclusion: Exploring the Complexity of Relationships in Avatar

In conclusion, the relationship between Aang and Katara is multifaceted. Recognizing the imperfections and complexities is essential to appreciate the depth of these characters. Aang, although inherently good, also shows problematic aspects that deserve discussion.

The concept of "The Avatar's Girl" underscores the importance of challenging stereotypes and allowing characters like Katara to develop more fully and authentically.

Now, let's delve into the second topic:

Do I really believe that Aang is the most despicable being, worthy of hatred and condemnation? A misogynist, abuser, harasser, who deserves eternal punishment just because he obstructs my favorite ship and is the antichrist?

The answer is a resounding NO!

Look Aang in the eye and tell me he is pure evil, DARE YOU!

Throughout the story, Aang emerges as a pure being, whose character development evolves as he trains to become a great Avatar. Despite facing the darkness of the world, his losses, and the wounds he suffers, Aang continues to maintain unwavering faith that everything will be okay and that the world can be a better place. His beautiful and innocent glow, that childlike animation, sets him apart in a context where young characters are growing up amid war.

I observe the young characters in the show, like Sokka, Katara, Suki, Toph, Azula, among others; they are all children of war, forged by the conflict surrounding them. The emotions, decisions, and thoughts of these characters are inevitably influenced by war. Sokka is shaped by the war-torn context in which he grew up, just like Katara, Toph, Zuko, and Azula. The war determines their identities, regardless of which side they are on.

However, Aang is an exception to this rule. His first 12 years pass in peace, living without the shadow of a war that could affect his life, his personality, his beliefs, his innocence, and his morals. If Aang had been born amid war, his being would probably have evolved differently, perhaps leading him to more extreme actions like killing Ozai. But no, Aang refuses to kill Ozai because it goes against his moral principles.

It is true that Aang has his moments of tantrum and questionable behaviors, which are completely understandable given that he is a 12-year-old child. Unlike other characters like Sokka, Toph, Katara, and Zuko, Aang's destiny is practically set in stone. He is supposed to stop the war, defeat the Fire Nation, or perish in the attempt, having to wait for the next Avatar cycle. This weight on his shoulders is overwhelming for a child.

Aang also experiences moments of "micro-machismo," something we all possess to some extent, even the most deconstructed feminists. This is due to his upbringing in a society that, due to the era and other factors, influenced his perspective. But we see how Aang grows, progresses as a character and person. Although it is not right for Aang to get angry when Katara does not understand his feelings or to kiss her without her consent, I do not consider him an abuser, as some Zutara fans suggest.

I believe that if they had allowed both Aang and Katara to truly grow, giving them real time to develop as independent and adult individuals, I would have liked them much more.

So, let's clarify, I don't dislike them; I don't ship them, but I don't dislike them either. If you like them, that's fine. I firmly believe that everyone is free to ship what they want, without the need to discredit or diminish the ship they don't support. And this goes for fans of Kataang, Zutara,

Zukka, or any other ship from different books, movies, or TV shows. Freedom and respect for all shippers!

I edit and add:

They won't convince me easily. Korra is not canon. Aang would never be a bad father, and Katara wouldn't allow it either. Katara tears off his testicles and makes him swallow them before allowing Aang to be a bad father to all of his children. I understand that Aang has a special relationship with Tenzin, since he inherited his mastery of air, but don't try to fool me. Aang is an amazing father, and nothing will change my opinion on that, not even Korra.

Add something else that I forgot:

If Zuko and Katara were to have a romantic relationship, of course it would hurt Aang, because he is in love with Katara, but he would never ever get angry with either of them, because both Katara and Zuko are his family. and Aang loves his family. Stop calling the baby evil

[walking-tornado]

Chobits is an asexual fantasy and yall feel weird because a show has never catered so hardcore to demiromantic asexuals until Chobits.

I highly recommend reading it to watching the anime. The anime deviates quite a bit from the manga and cuts a lot of important details from the last arc. Spoilers ahead for the end of the show, i will get into basically everything soooo be warned.

Feel free to fight me in the comments, i love discussions :>

At its core Chobits is a romance between a human cishet man- Hideki- and a female asexual Robot/Persocom -Chi-. Its a slow burn romance, where Hideki is given time to observe the complex relationships around him, before coming to a decision, while Chi has more of an introspective journey of finding out what she wants outside of her programming.

Chobits explores quite a number of themes and ideas about romance and the nature of sapience:

The most glaring is the idea of Human/Persocom relationships and romances. Is a Persocom with complex enough programing sapient? Is it enough that the human observer believes their Persocom is sentient for it to be? When a Persocom consents, does it really?

We see people become obsessed with their Persocom who can do anything ,without question, to the point where they neglect their spouses. At the same time we see people who are wholeheartedly in love with their Persocom, and who endure the societal pressure to seek human companionship. We see characters who create a Persocom duplicate of their deceased loved one, and their emotional struggle.

We are shown the effects of the sociatal pressure on women to rise up to the beauty and "perfection " standards that these dolls bring to the table.

Okay okay buuuut wait WalkingTornado, isnt this that one anime where her power button is down THERE?!?!

Yes, thats the one. Its treated as a comedic hook in the first chapter because Hideki has zero experience and background information and we see the world though his extremely naive eyes.

After learning from those around him about the nature of a romantic relationship with a Persocom, he is hit with the magnitude of that perticular design choice. Chi has no innate desire for sex, and should she have sex, her fundamental personality will be deleted and changed forever.

And Hideki, accepts to enter a purely romantic relationship with Chi, and consents to not have sex with her ever, despite being allosexual.

He doesnt ask if they can move/remove the button, he doesnt ask if he can possibly have oral, he doesnt ask if he can date someone on the side, he doesnt ask her to sacrifice her being for his sexual benefit.

He accepts her as she is and respects the now completely asexual nature of their relationship.

Now onto the negatives: The asexual being a robot is nothing new, but is it problematic? Maybe, but considering that so much media has trouble accepting an Asexual as not a broken/ill/hasnt met the right person/traumatised/low libido/nun who has to get over themselves and just have sex like the rest of us, Chobits with it unusual premise, does a good job of portraying an asexual romantic relationship using an unconventional premise.

I pray for a future, where asexual representation in media gets to a point where we can look back and snicker that hehe they thought we were all robots. But till then, i will defend Chobits as my go to Asexual media to my dying day.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Hello!

My Gallifreyan is quite sadder than usual, and he's admitted that xe is very lonely. I'm guessing that this is because their friend had to go back to Gallifrey for reasons unknown to me, but she often disappears into xyr TARDIS for hours or even days at a time. Is this normal behavior for them? How should i go about introducing them to new friends?

-sincerely, a concerned human

How do you help a lonely Time Lord?

Greetings Concerned Human,

We don't know the background of this particular trauma, but it's quite normal for a Gallifreyan to experience periods of loneliness, especially when separated from close companions. Time Lords, despite their immense stoicness (that's a word), still experience the same range of emotions as humans do, including sadness and loneliness. The departure of a close friend can be a significant emotional blow, leaving your Gallifreyan feeling isolated.

🕰️ Is This Normal Behaviour?

Firstly, yes, it's normal for some Gallifreyans to disappear into their TARDIS for extended periods. Their TARDIS isn't just a vehicle; it gives them an emotional, psionic, and physical sanctuary and some isolation. Many Time Lords often need solitude, and their time alone is crucial for their well-being, especially when dealing with emotional turmoil or loneliness.

🌌 Addressing the Loneliness

However, loneliness is a serious issue, even for a Time Lord. They may have vast intellects and lifespans, but they still need companionship and connection. Here are a few steps you can take to help your Gallifreyan friend:

Understanding & Empathy: Show understanding and empathy. Let them know you're there for them and that you value their presence.

Shared Activities: Engage in activities that they enjoy or find intellectually stimulating. Whether it's discussing the universe, exploring new places, or playing an intellectually stimulating game, these shared experiences can strengthen your bond.

Introduce Like-Minded Individuals: Try introducing them to others who share their interests. This could be through academic circles, clubs, or groups dedicated to intellectual pursuits. Be patient, as Gallifreyans can be selective about their company.

Host Gatherings: Organise small gatherings where your Gallifreyan friend can meet new people in a comfortable setting. It's often easier to form connections in a relaxed, informal environment.

Leave Them Be: Sometimes, like a human, a Gallifreyan just wants to be alone, you should respect that too.

🛸 Building a Supportive Network

Many Gallifreyans have a complex relationship with their emotions, but with the right support, they can find joy and companionship even far from their home planet. Encourage them to reach out to other Time Lords if possible, as shared experiences and understanding can be incredibly comforting. However, also remember that human companionship can be equally as enriching.

🏫 So ...

Your concern and care for your Gallifreyan friend are evident, and that alone is a great foundation for helping them through this period of loneliness. Keep being a supportive and understanding friend, and they'll surely appreciate your efforts in making their time away from Gallifrey a bit less lonely.

Related:

How do I help a Gallifreyan who's homesick?: Steps you can take as a human to help a homesick Gallifreyan.

Factoid: What gift would suit my Gallifreyan and their biology?

Factoid: Why is my Gallifreyan a little bit giggly today?

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[theunkn0wn-0]

The Gift of Immortality DRAGON BALL STORY: Insert Reader

GENDER-NEUTRAL READER ✕ DRAGON BALL CHARACTERS

╰➤ ⌈ 𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵… ⌋ ╰┈┈➤ This is a FIRST PERSON POV story for the reader, Y/N, M/C. ╰┈┈➤ Instead of (Y/N), I use [First Name] for your name. ╰┈┈➤ Enjoy the story, have fun.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑮𝑼𝑬 — 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑨𝑳 | 4 FIRST CHAPTER: 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑮𝑼𝑬 — 𝑩𝑰𝑹𝑻𝑯 | 1

[TRIGGER] WARNINGS: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF GORE, BLOOD, & MURDER!!! Mentions of DEATH/DYING & SWEARING!!!

Prologue - HUMANITY | 5

❝Sympathy, affection, fear—feelings can be very powerful weapons of persuasion.❞

•◉◓☆◓◉•

        It has been a few years since I had thought of my plan; specifically, it has been five years, nearly a decade communicating with Lascell, and the experiments were less severe, only testing out chemicals or medicine to see the symptoms I would show. It wasn't too much since my immortality; I would recover from anything poisonous or that would damage my body, although I was immune to sickness or diseases.

To be frank, as much as I despised being a lab rat, I would instead be tested for chemicals or medicine than the ones I had been to test out the limitations of my immortality.

"[First Name], you're spacing out again."

Lascell's voice resonated through the room, pulling me from my reverie. My eyes, drawn to Lascell's magenta eyes, I couldn't help but admire the depths hidden behind those irises, even as I struggled to suppress the unsettling emotions that clawed at the edges of my consciousness.

"Sorry, lost in thought. Did you say something?"

I replied. The room hummed with the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead, and the antiseptic scent of the laboratory mingled with the faint traces of chemicals.

"Yes, I asked what the best time of your life was?"

Lascell's questions had evolved from casual banter to delve into my memories. I tread carefully, revealing fragments while guarding the secrets of my age and experiences. His question hung in the air, a bridge to deeper conversations. Memories, ancient and vivid, flickered in my mind like candle flames, casting shadows of long-forgotten companionship.

"It's a difficult one... but I believe it is when I had a group of friends, and we had our first drink together."

I began, a wistful smile tugging at my lips. Lascell's eyes gleamed with curiosity, pulling me deeper into the past with every passing word. "It was a fun night, wild," I reminisced, meeting Lascell's warm smile. His presence ignited an unfamiliar warmth within me, a sentiment I tried to suppress.

"I bet it was," he responded, his voice a soothing melody that resonated with the unspoken connection we were forging. "Now it's my turn to ask a question. What do you like most about yourself?"

Lascell's smug grin surfaced, and a chuckle escaped his lips. "So many things, such as being intelligent and how handsome I am."

His pride was palpable, and a smirk played on my lips as I rolled my eyes in mock exasperation; however, I let out a snicker. "Of course, you would say that."

For a moment, the tension between us dissipated, replaced by a shared understanding laced with humor. Lascell's confidence hid layers of complexity—cunning, intelligence, dare I admit it to myself, captivating, and his kindness.

However, the word that echoed in my mind—kind—veered my thoughts in uncharted directions. Before I could delve deeper into the labyrinth of my conflicted emotions, Lascell's voice broke the silence, becoming stern.

"Listen to me, [First Name]. I know we have been talking for a long time, but..."

Lascell's gaze bore into mine, his voice a gentle breeze that brushed against the barrier of the bulletproof glass. "I want to help you. To escape here." My eyes widened, and my heart leaped in my chest, a mixture of hope and disbelief swirling in the depths of my soul.

This was not the outcome I was expecting.

Thoughts clamored for attention in my mind, and fear and uncertainty gripped me, rendering me speechless as Lascell continued, his voice tinged with sincerity.

"I may be a scientist, working under Agent Ethan Kane's employ to earn a living. But I am not a monster, can't you see? I do what I can to delay the experiments, to lessen the brutality Victor wants to test out."

His words struck a chord within me, igniting a spark of hope amidst the darkness of my confinement. I was on the verge of protesting, of pointing out the flaws in his reasoning, but Lascell preempted me.

“If I were to halt the experiments altogether, it would only enrage Victor. You know how obsessed he is with you. And Ethan craves results, not setbacks. He'd resort to any means necessary to extract the answers he seeks."

The truth in his words resonated deep within me. Victor's obsession and feelings were a force to be reckoned with, fueled by unchecked ambition and boundless desire. Ethan, on the other hand, was a slave to logic and pragmatism, his pursuit of knowledge blinding him to the human cost.

“Do you trust me?” Lascell's question sent me recoiling instinctively, my skepticism boiling to the surface that lay bare in the furrow of my brow and the curl of my lip.

“How can I trust you? How do I know you wouldn’t be like one of them? You want to use me.”

My words dripped with suspicion, each syllable a testament to the walls I had erected around my heart. Lascell's sigh was almost imperceptible, and his magenta eyes softened with understanding.

“I understand, but [First Name], please, allow me to help you, trust me, allow me the chance to prove myself to you," he implored, his voice a soothing balm against the raw edges of my doubt.

“I've seen the results of your blood tests, and nothing has worked for the answers he seeks. I'm warning you, Ethan won't hesitate to explore other avenues and will stop at nothing to extract the answers he seeks from you, even if it means...”

His voice trailed off, as I swallowed hard, the reality of my situation settling like a lead weight in my stomach. “As a breeding stock... for immortal beings,” I finished, the words tasting bitter on my tongue—a chilling reminder of the fate that awaited me if I remained trapped within the confines of BioThera.

My breath came in shallow gasps, my pulse thundering in my ears like a war drum. I clutched the soft fabric of the blanket Lascell had provided me, a tangible reminder of his small acts of kindness amidst the disarray.

"Take deep breaths, [First Name]."

Lascell's voice cut through the turmoil, a beacon of calm amidst the storm raging within me. I followed his guidance, the rhythm of my breath gradually steadying as his calming presence enveloped me like a shield against the encroaching darkness. But even as my panic subsided, the seed of doubt remained.

"Will you ever trust me? If you stay, there... you know what happens."

His words cut through the silence like a knife, exposing the raw vulnerability that lay beneath the surface. I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze. But Lascell pressed on, his voice laced with determination.

"I'll do everything in my power to earn your trust, [First Name]. I understand that trust is earned, not given freely. I'll buy you as much time as I can until you're ready to take that leap of faith. I will wait, [First Name]. As long as it takes."

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As the days bled into weeks and the weeks melted into months, with each passing moment, I found myself drawn to him, drawn to the possibility of escape that he offered. 

Perhaps it was his unwavering determination or the kindness that lingered in the curve of his smile. Maybe it was the way he listened, truly listened, to the echoes of my fears and hopes, or the quiet strength that emanated from him like a beacon in the darkness. Or maybe it was simply the desperate longing for salvation, the yearning for a glimmer of hope in the suffocating depths of despair.

Which is why I trusted him enough to allow him to help me.

Lascell was risking everything for me – his career, his integrity, even his life. He laid the groundwork for my escape long before I had even entertained the notion. He knew the security codes, the patrol routes, and the blind spots where I could slip through unnoticed.

But it wasn't just my freedom he was fighting for. Lascell needed to disappear, to vanish into the wilderness where government surveillance couldn't reach. He was moving his own home, preparing for the inevitable backlash that would come once I was gone.

And yet, despite the gravity of our situation, I couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered at the edges of my consciousness; I found myself torn between gratitude and suspicion.

What if this was all a trick? What if Lascell was leading me into a trap, using me as a tool?

The thought twisted my stomach into a knot and gnawed at the edges of my sanity, a relentless whisper that refused to be silenced. And yet, amidst the cacophony of doubts and fears, a quiet voice of reason urged me to take a leap of faith, to trust in the flickering flame of hope that burned within me.

But despite my doubts, despite the whispering voice of paranoia that echoed in the depths of my mind, I couldn't deny the strange warmth that blossomed within me whenever Lascell was nearby.

And so, with each passing day, we worked in secret, laying the groundwork for my escape. Months passed in a blur of whispered conversations and stolen moments, each step bringing me closer to freedom and yet further into the shadowy depths of uncertainty.

But as the final pieces of our plan fell into place, I knew that there was no turning back. For better or for worse, Lascell held the key to my salvation – and I could only pray that he wouldn't be the one to betray me in the end.

Nearly a year had passed since I entrusted Lascell with my hopes of escape, and with each passing day, his presence became an anchor in the tumultuous sea of my existence.

He was more than a scientist; he was the flicker of humanity in an otherwise cold and clinical world. He was the calming force that quelled the storm raging within me, his words a soothing balm for the wounds of my past.

With each delay of the experiments, he offered me a respite, a fleeting glimpse of freedom amidst the suffocating grip of captivity. In his presence, I found a semblance of home, a sanctuary where I could shed the shackles of my past and embrace the fragile hope that blossomed within me.

He became my reason to hope.

But when Lascell failed to visit as usual, the air in my cell grew heavy with a sense of foreboding, gnawing anxiety clawed its way into my heart. Each moment without him stretched into an eternity, leaving me adrift in a sea of uncertainty. The blanket draped over my shoulders offered little warmth against the chill that permeated my soul.

The absence of his presence left a void—a hollow ache that echoed in the depths of my being. Without him, the walls of my cell closed in, suffocating me in a blanket of silence. I longed for the sound of his voice, the way his magenta eyes gazed at me, anything to dispel the emptiness that engulfed me.

It was then, in the midst of my despair, that I confronted the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. Was it love that tethered me to Lascell's side, or merely the desperate longing for companionship in a world devoid of kindness? The answer eluded me, lost in the labyrinth of my own doubts and insecurities.

But it was more than just his absence that unsettled me; it was the gnawing fear that gripped my heart.

What if Ethan had uncovered our plan? What if Lascell got caught and was fired? Or worse... he was punished for his actions.

The possibilities loomed before me like specters in the night, haunting my every thought. With each passing moment, the tendrils of worry tightened their grip around my heart, threatening to suffocate me in their embrace. 

With each passing moment, my mind conjured nightmares of betrayal and punishment, each more vivid than the last. I feared for Lascell, and for myself. And then, like a beacon of hope in the darkness, Lascell returned. His presence was a balm to my fractured soul, a ray of light piercing through the shadows of despair that had threatened to consume me.

The sight of him, standing before me behind the bulletproof glass wall with his familiar warmth and gentle smile, washed over me like a wave of relief. In that moment, the weight of my fears lifted, replaced by the overwhelming flood of gratitude and joy.

"Now where have you been? Leaving me here without a warning?” I quipped through the relief of seeing Lascell's return softened my tone. His smirk hinted at his awareness of my desperation for his presence as he approached the bulletproof glass, mirroring my steps.

“I’m sorry,” his voice, laced with sincerity, tugged at the strings of my heart. His eyes, once alight with mischief, now bore the weight of the world, and my smile faltered. “But I had to address some issues concerning the government and Victor.”

With each step, the sound of his shoes on the linoleum floor echoed in my cell, merging with the mechanical beeps of the keypad. With a hiss, the door slid open, marking the first time he stepped inside my confinement. Lascell's presence inside my cell sent a jolt of anxiety coursing through me, the weight of the risks he bore for my sake pressing down on my chest.

“The government is onto you now. Ethan is growing impatient with my lack of information, and Victor is becoming increasingly agitated by the delay in his experiments.”

As he spoke, his voice threaded with concern; I couldn't help but feel the gravity of the situation sinking in. The government's awareness of my existence spelled danger, not only for me but for Lascell as well.

Victor and Ethan were monsters, devoid of humanity, driven only by their insatiable greed for knowledge and power. In their eyes, I was nothing more than a means to an end. And now, with the government's scrutiny added to the mix, the stakes had never been higher.

They know my immortality... would they use me? Fuck!

“Cell—” I began, my voice catching as I stumbled over my words. The nickname slipped out involuntarily, a remnant of our shred time and company. But as I steadied myself and closed the distance between us, resolve blossomed within me, fueled by the emotions I had long suppressed.

“Lascell, what about the plan? We still have one thing left to do, we can figure this out later,” I insisted, desperation tinged with determination lacing my words.

“No, we can’t—”

“Yes, we can!” I interrupted before he could protest further, desperation fueling my words. 

“Please, just... let them continue! I can stall for time, providing Ethan with the information he seeks without raising suspicion. I'll tell Ethan everything he wants to know about me, about my immortality, and my experiences. Let Victor continue the experiments so he wouldn’t do anything drastic. Just... let me help you.”

I blurted out, my voice edged with urgency as I grasped at Lascell's lab coat, my fingers trembling with desperation. Lascell's expression flickered with disbelief, his eyes widening in shock as he absorbed the weight of my proposal. His voice, tinged with a hint of frustration, cut through the air like a blade.

"Are you hearing yourself?"

"Yes, I am," I replied, my voice trembling with emotion. “I know what I am saying. Just please do it. I said before I would buy you as much time as you did for me. I… I just… I don't want you to get hurt.”

Tears threatened to spill from my eyes as I confessed my fears, my vulnerabilities laid bare before him. The thought of returning to Victor's experiments filled me with dread, but the idea of Lascell suffering because of me was unbearable.

"[First Name]..." Lascell's voice softened, his features softened with a mixture of concern and affection.

"No, no, just please do it. And get it over with. We're close, we need time, and I can give it to you. Please, let me help you like you have helped me—"

Suddenly, his arms enveloped me, pulling me into a tight embrace that stole the breath from my lungs, his arms enveloped me in a comforting embrace, his warmth seeping into my bones like a soothing balm. His hand found its way to my head, gently patting me, his reassurance washed over me like a gentle tide, erasing the doubts and fears that had plagued my mind.

"No," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "I won't allow that. You're not going back."

At that moment, I realized the depth of his care for me.

“Don’t worry about me,” he continued his voice, a soothing melody that echoed in the recesses of my mind. “I don’t have the heart to allow you to do those experiments. Your mind is fragile, I have seen how your emotional state was, you're not going back. I have seen how insane you were when we met. Your body may heal your wounds, but not the wounds of your soul.”

His words washed over me, soothing the turmoil within. Slowly, tentatively, I returned his embrace, the unfamiliar sensation of human touch grounding me in reality, a sense of warmth and belonging washed over me, filling the void that had gnawed at my soul for so long.

"I promise you that you’ll always be safe in my arms. I’ll get you out of here… tomorrow we will execute the plan, I have everything ready."

His sincerity was palpable, his commitment unwavering. And as he spoke, a warmth spread through my chest, filling me with a sense of belonging I had never known. I knew that I was not alone.

“I… want to go with you,” he confessed. “We’ll both escape from here; would you believe it if I told you I loved you? I could live alongside you; you don’t have to be alone when you’re free.”

In his declaration of love, I found the courage to believe in a future where we could be together. And as I gazed into his magenta eyes, I knew that I was truly in love with that man.

And the next day we escaped together.

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We found refuge in an abandoned house nestled behind forgotten train tracks, their steel is now rusted and overgrown with weeds. As Lascell pushed open the door, its hinges groaned in protest, releasing a musty scent mingled with the earthy aroma of moss and vegetation.

The interior revealed itself as dimly lit, the feeble glow of moonlight filtering through cracked windows casting eerie shadows across the worn floorboards.

My eyes swept across the dimly lit interior, taking in the worn walls and creaking floorboards, signs of age and neglect softened by Lascell's efforts to make it habitable for our escape.

“It’s not much, but this is as far as I could prepare for us,” Lascell's voice broke the silence, tinged with an undercurrent of uncertainty. I offered a reassuring nod, acknowledging his efforts. Despite its dilapidated state, it held the promise of safety and freedom, a sanctuary away from BioThera, away from the government.

As night descended upon us, we found solace in each other's company, our voices mingling in the darkness as we shared tales of our pasts. My words spilled forth, recounting tales of lifetimes past, while Lascell listened intently, my life being immortal who has lived in the Paleolithic Age, according to Lascell’s hypothesis.

With each tale I recounted, the friends and comrades I have lost, Lascell offered solace amidst the echoes of my sorrow. In a moment of vulnerability, I reached out for him, seeking comfort in his embrace, only to be shattered by the deafening roar of gunfire, ripping through the air like a thunderclap.

Before I could react and comprehend the horror unfolding before my eyes, Lascell had been shot in the head; his head burst as a balloon that popped, blood splattered onto my face and attire, bits of pieces of his brain splattered on my hair and face. Lascell's lifeless body slumped against me, a grotesque tableau of violence and despair.

The jarring scent of blood mingled with the acrid scent of gunpowder, staining my skin and clothing in a macabre tableau of death, feeling the warm thick liquid of blood seeping from his head that dripped onto my body, mingling with the rancid sound of my own ragged breaths.

Shock and horror held me in their icy grip as I struggled to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before me. Before I could comprehend the enormity of the tragedy unfolding before me, another gunshot pierced the silence, sending searing pain lancing through my skull.

Darkness descended, enveloping me in its cold embrace and swallowing me whole as I plummeted into the abyss of unconsciousness. But even in death, there was no respite, no escape from the torment.

With a gasp, I awoke to a world bathed in shadows, my vision clouded with a haze of confusion, and my body wracked with agony as life surged back into my veins. Before me stood a cadre of armed men, their weapons trained on my trembling form.

With a surge of primal fury, I unleashed hell upon them, my hands stained with their blood as I fought for my revenge upon those who had dared to take Lascell from me. Their screams pierced the air, mingling with the staccato rhythm of gunfire. But amidst the chaos, a nagging realization came.

My hands closed around a syringe, its familiar label a grim reminder of the horrors that awaited me. Dread coiled in the pit of my stomach, mingling with the swirling maelstrom of emotions that threatened to destroy me.

This is from BioThera... they... found us.

Yet, amidst the carnage, a realization dawned upon me, a chilling revelation that sent shivers down my spine. I battled with pure rage, my emotions would blind me and my actions, these syringes are capable of making me unconscious for hours.

Who knew what would happen if I wasn’t careful? I could have been captured. I need to get the fuck out of here.

I can destroy and defeat an entire army without a sweat; however, an army that knows something can defeat me, but in a way, I would be apprehended instead of leaving me alone on the battlefield. This was different…

I was fighting for survival.

For my freedom, and my life from being exploited and tormented again. I fought not just for my own survival but for the memory of the man who had sacrificed everything for me, who loved me, who treated me as a human being, my safe place.

For Lascell.

Why did they have to kill him? Why take him? Why is my life like this?

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

YEAR: 2074 2 YEARS LATER | AGE: + 1 MILLION YEARS OLD

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        Lascell's sudden departure left me adrift in a sea of grief and unanswered questions. Why was he taken from me? Why was he killed? The weight of uncertainty pressed down on my shoulders, threatening to drown me in despair.

I could only speculate that BioThera and Ethan had discovered his involvement in my escape, branding him a traitor for aiding their "experiment" in breaking free. Perhaps Lascell knew too much, a dangerous liability that had to be eliminated to protect their secrets.

So, in the end... he was killed.

Yet, even as I grieved, I could not afford the luxury of peace. The government, relentless in their pursuit of power, hunted me down with a fervor born of fear and desperation. Their knowledge of my existence, fueled by Ethan's machinations and Victor's twisted ambitions, turned me into a target—a weapon to be controlled and used.

In the depths of the night, I walked alone, my senses on high alert, every shadow a potential threat, every sound a harbinger of danger. Paranoia clung to me like a second skin, a constant reminder that nowhere was safe.

But just when I thought I had reached the limits of despair, the world spiraled further into chaos. Outbreaks of monstrous beings ravaged cities, leaving a trail of destruction and death in their wake. The governments of different countries and their military futile attempts to stem the tide of terror only served to fuel the flames of panic and despair in people.

The once bustling streets became battlegrounds, I found myself ensnared in the chaos, face-to-face with these creatures. Monstrous creatures, their green scales glistening in the moonlight, towered over me. With wings outstretched, they cast their ominous shadows upon the world below.

One of them descended upon me with a ferocity that stole the breath from my lungs. Instinct took over, my hand reaching for the cold steel of a pistol, and my finger pulled the trigger. But when the bullet struck, it merely bounced harmlessly off the creature's hardened skin, shattering my illusions of control in an instant.

Caught off guard and reeling from the revelation of their unparalleled durability, I grappled with the stark reality of my predicament. These creatures' existence defies logic and reason.

Claws like sharpened steel ensnared my face, the crushing pressure sending shockwaves of pain coursing through my body. The stench of gunpowder mingled with the acrid tang of smoke and the bitter bite of ashes, assaulting my senses as the world around me descended into chaos—buildings crumbling, explosions reverberating, the desperate cries of the wounded and screams piercing the night, and the staccato rhythm of firearms echoing in the distance.

With a brutal toss, I was hurled aside like a discarded plaything, my body colliding with the shattered remnants of a once-proud structure, the jagged edge of a pipe tearing through flesh with ruthless efficiency, impaling me.

Agony lanced through my body, every breath a struggle against the suffocating weight of pain. But a spark of determination flickered within me.

With gritted teeth and trembling limbs, I clung to the blood-slicked metal, each movement sending waves of nausea crashing over me. As I fought to pull myself from the wreckage, my mind raced with desperate questions.

How can I kill things that aren't even human? Whose durability is beyond that of an average human, not even bullets are helpful, or even anything?

Eventually, I managed to extricate myself from the wreckage, my body pulsing with the rhythmic cadence of my regeneration. As the city continued to crumble under the onslaught of the creatures, the realization stuck within me.

But maybe... maybe I can outsmart them. Exploit their weaknesses and turn their own powers against them.

As chaos reigned and monsters roamed the streets, I did what I could to save as many people as possible; each encounter was a dance with death, a fleeting moment of victory before I was struck down, only to rise again before ushering me back into the fray.

Soon I fled once I had no one to save, I observed the creatures; I learned more about them—their unearthly speed and ability to conjure orbs of light that seared through their hands. I figured out they were controlled or served by someone named King Piccolo.

I could tell he was no mindless destroyer, but a cunning strategist whose thirst for power knew no bounds. As I pieced together fragments of information, a grim realization settled in the pit of my stomach—King Piccolo's ambitions extended far beyond mere conquest. He sought dominion over the entire world.

The realization struck me like a thunderbolt: if King Piccolo discovered my existence, my immortality, I would be a tool to be wielded in his insatiable quest for power. The prospect of falling into his clutches filled me with a cold dread.

I refuse to be a plaything.

But the more I pondered ahead if King Piccolo succeeded in ruling the world, I would eventually be found. The last remaining person, and possibly be used by him once he found out about my immortality, maybe just a toy for entertainment to be killed and die over and over again for the rest of eternity, or until he dies.

If I could vanquish King Piccolo, I would not only ensure the safety of the world but also secure my own freedom. With the governments preoccupied with rebuilding in the wake of his devastation, I could slip into the shadows, a phantom of myth and legend.

It would be a gamble, a high-stakes game of survival, but the promise of freedom beckoned like a beacon in the dark.

It was as if the universe had heard my silent plea for a fresh start when I stumbled upon Mutaito, an old man on a solitary quest to vanquish King Piccolo. At first, Mutaito rebuffed my offer of assistance, claiming that he must reclaim his honor alone.

But I knew the futility of such solitary battles. I reasoned with him, knowing if we continue to stand idly by while innocent lives fell victim to the terror wrought by King Piccolo's tyranny. We would have only saved a few, maybe even by hundreds. Mutaito, once resolute in his solitude, relented to my persuasion.

And so, our unlikely partnership was born.

Under Mutaito's tutelage, I honed my skills, absorbing his teachings with a hunger born of necessity. His concern for my well-being was palpable, and his wisdom flowed like a river, shaping me into a warrior capable of facing King Piccolo's minions.

Though I harbored secrets of my own of my skills, I embraced the opportunity to learn from a master of his craft as I did from my other teachers over my life.

Through Mutaito's guidance, I discovered the untapped potential within myself—the power of ki, a life force energy that coursed through my veins. With each passing day, I delved deeper into its mysteries, determined to wield it as a weapon.

And then, the moment of reckoning arrived.

I ventured forth alone while Mutaito continued his preparations. Days blurred into nights as I scoured the land, my senses attuned to any sign of the demon's presence.

Finally, I stumbled upon his lair as I ventured into the heart of King Piccolo's domain, my senses heightened, every nerve tingling with anticipation. With practiced stealth, I slipped past his guards, my heart pounding in my chest.

Face-to-face with the creature, I refused to yield to fear. King Piccolo's malevolent gaze bore into mine, but I met his gaze with steely resolve, refusing to back down in the face of his power.

"You have the nerve to face The Demon King with such confidence? You must be delusional, you're no threat to me," he sneered, his voice a venomous hiss that echoed through the chamber.

"Who said I am a threat?" I retorted, my voice steady despite the rapid thud of my heart against my ribcage. A smirk twisted King Piccolo's lips, a mocking sneer that almost made me lash out, yet I held back. Despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I refused to let fear or anger dictate my actions.

"I am [First Name]."

With arms folded, King Piccolo closed the distance between us, each step reverberating through the cavernous lair like a death knell. Yet, I refused to flinch, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve.

"So tell me the truth. What is your motive behind invading my lair?" His voice cut through the silence like a blade, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that bordered on primal.

"I am aware you have subordinates, guards, or an army," I began, my words a calculated gambit to sow doubt in his mind.

"I am aware you have subordinates, guards, or an army," I began, my words a calculated gambit to sow doubt in his mind.

"Though I managed to slip past them, it makes me wonder if your army is truly formidable enough to aid you in your conquest. You seek to rule the world, correct? But are you prepared for the possibility of a greater threat beyond this planet? In the vast expanse of the universe? What if there were a threat beyond our world, beyond even your comprehension? Would your army suffice then?"

A snarl twisted King Piccolo's lips, but beneath the facade of rage, I glimpsed a flicker of doubt. It was a delicate dance, a battle of wits and wills, and I refused to falter.

"There is no being who can defeat me," he finally spoke, his voice dripping with misplaced confidence. "Even if my army were to fall, I possess the strength and power to prevail."

"But what if there is?" I countered; my tone laced with a subtle hint of persuasion.

"What if there exists a force capable of demolishing empires and conquering entire galaxies? Would you still cling to the illusion of your own supremacy? The universe is vast and unpredictable. Who's to say there isn't a force out there capable of toppling even the mightiest of rulers?"

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint echo of our breathing. I held my breath, waiting for his response, knowing that I had struck a nerve. King Piccolo's gaze bore into mine.

His response was hesitant, his words tinged with doubt. "I have never considered such a possibility...to face a threat beyond the scope of my power... But it would be foolish of me to dismiss it outright."

Seizing the opportunity, I pressed forward. "You have the power to conquer a planet, yes. But what if there exists a being who seeks dominion over entire galaxies? Your rule over Earth would pale in comparison. And you, of all people, should be prepared for whatever may come."

King Piccolo's gaze bore into mine, searching for any hint of deception. "Why are you telling me this? What do you hope to gain?" His voice held a note of suspicion, but I met his gaze with a calm resolve.

"I want to help you," I declared; my words echoing with sincerity. King Piccolo's incredulous scoff echoed through the chamber, a testament to his disbelief at my audacity.

"What could a mere human offer to a being such as myself? I doubt that you could provide me with any meaningful help." he sneered; his arrogance a shield against the possibility of vulnerability. I stood my ground; I knew that my plan was in motion.

"You can die, correct?" I continued to press on, my voice steady despite the tremors of uncertainty coursing through my veins. "You may have power, strength, skill, and speed... but you can be killed."

Silence hung heavy in the air as King Piccolo processed my words. Slowly, the mask of arrogance crumbled, replaced by a simmering rage at the mere suggestion of his mortality.

"What are you suggesting? That there might be someone out there that can kill...me?!" he growled, his fists clenched in barely restrained fury.

"I mean... you're not immortal, right?" I ventured cautiously, probing the chinks in his armor with a calculated risk. His admission confirmed my suspicions, laying bare the vulnerability that lurked beneath his prideful exterior.

And so, the seeds of doubt took root within his mind, paving the way for my ultimate gambit. "No... I'm not truly immortal. Technically, I can still die," he conceded, his admission a crack in the facade of invincibility he had constructed.

"What if you have a weapon?" I proposed; the tremors of fear and dread barely contained beneath the surface. "A weapon that can kill entire armies without breaking a sweat. A shield that will never falter. And you will use it if such an occasion arises."

The words spilled from my lips, laced with trepidation and resolve. Inside, fear gnawed at the edges of my mind, but I pushed it aside, focusing on the endgame that loomed on the horizon.

I was willing to be King Piccolo’s weapon... but the weapon that would destroy him.

As the conversation unfolded, I revealed the extent of my abilities and knowledge, each revelation drawing him further into my web of deceit. As the truth of my immortality unfolded before him, King Piccolo's demeanor shifted, a newfound curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

"You are quite the fascinating human," he mused, his gaze piercing through the layers of deceit to uncover the truth buried within. "So, tell me, what exactly do you hope to gain from me if I accept you as my weapon?"

"...Train. I would like to learn your abilities. Teach me the secrets of ki energy, and in return, I will serve as your weapon. I may be knowledgeable at warfare and have many ways to kill, but I'll be even more useful to you if I learn ki," I proposed, my words a carefully calculated gambit to glean information about his powers and weaknesses.

King Piccolo's smile was a testament to his approval, a silent acknowledgment of our newfound alliance. With a nod of assent, he agreed to my terms.

"You have presented to me a reasonable offer. I will teach you the secrets of using ki. You will learn how to create your own energy blasts, as well as how to fly and sense ki. Seems that we have come to an agreement," he remarked, his voice laden with newfound respect, belied the fact that he believed he held the upper hand; unknowingly, I was the one pulling the strings.

As I trained under his watchful gaze, I endured his ruthless tutelage, each lesson a grueling test of my endurance and resolve. As I delved deeper into the art of ki manipulation under his tutelage, I played the role of the dutiful student, ally, and tool, all the while weaving a web of deception that would ultimately lead to his downfall. Each lesson, each training session, brought me closer to my goal, yet further entrenched me in a world of brutality and abuse.

King Piccolo was ruthless in his methods, his training regimen designed to mold me into the perfect weapon. But beneath his watchful gaze, I bided my time, patiently awaiting the opportunity to strike back against the tyrant.

Amidst the whirlwind of training and abuse, I danced on the razor's edge, balancing between obedience and subversion. When tasked with missions of destruction, I subtly manipulated the circumstances, buying precious time for those in harm's way to flee to safety.

And when failure inevitably came knocking, I bore the brunt of his wrath, enduring punishment after punishment in silence, dying over and over again, my mind tortured by the extreme pain. Yet, with each blow, I gritted my teeth and endured, knowing that the pain was a small price to pay for the greater good and to get what I wanted.

A restart of my life.

For every wound inflicted, every blow, every time being killed, and coming back to life endured brought me one step closer to victory. With each passing day, I grew stronger, more resilient, and more prepared to face the ultimate showdown that awaited.

Mastering my ki was like unlocking a dormant power within me, each surge of energy coursing through my veins a testament to my growing strength. I felt myself transforming, not just on a spiritual level, but on a physical one as well. My muscles rippled with newfound power, and my reflexes honed to a razor's edge, and my endurance seemingly boundless.

I never thought I felt so... powerful.

Yet, beneath the veneer of power, my plan continued to unfold. My plan, carefully crafted and executed with precision, relied on a delicate balance of trust and deception.

As I fed Mautaio morsels of information about King Piccolo's impending attacks, abilities, and skills, I trod carefully, ensuring that I revealed only what was necessary to further our cause.

But the stakes were high, and the consequences of betrayal weighed heavily on my mind. If Mautaio were to discover my allegiance to King Piccolo, our fragile alliance would crumble, leaving me vulnerable to the demon king's wrath.

Over the months, I was careful with my actions, doling out morsels of information like breadcrumbs to lead Mautaio to the truth while keeping King Piccolo in the dark about my true intentions.

I continued to play my part, a pawn in a deadly game of chess played across multiple dimensions. With each move, I walked a fine line between loyalty and betrayal, my every action calculated to ensure the success of my mission.

I was basically playing chess in 4D at this point.

I walked a tightrope between two worlds, providing Mautaio with carefully curated information while feeding King Piccolo morsels of intelligence to earn his trust. It was a dangerous game, one where a single misstep could spell disaster.

After two long years of relentless scheming and clandestine maneuvering, Master Mutaito finally found a solution to defeat King Piccolo, thanks to the information I had provided. The fruits of my labor had borne fruit, yet the cost had been steep.

he physical abuse inflicted upon me by King Piccolo served as a grim reminder of the risks I had taken and the sacrifices I had made in pursuit of my goal.

Each punishment, each death, was a testament to the lengths I was willing to go to see my plan through to its bitter end. But as I stood on the precipice of uncertainty, the specter of doubt loomed large in my mind.

Was it worth it? Would I make a difference? Was this a waste?

The physical and emotional toll weighed heavily on me, but I knew that I had to see it through to the end. With a leap of faith, I plunged headfirst into the unknown, trusting that in the end, my actions would lead to justice and redemption.

Mutaito laid out our plan to defeat King Piccolo. But as he spoke of seeking aid from his former students, I nodded in agreement, knowing he wanted to make sure nothing went wrong in the end.

My mind is already racing with plans and strategies. Yet, before I could voice my intention to accompany him, King Piccolo's voice slithered into my thoughts like a venomous serpent, his telepathic message a reminder of my allegiance to King Piccolo and the consequences of defiance.

A soft sigh escaped my lips as I grappled with the dilemma before me. On one hand, I desired to join Mutaito in his search for his students, to get away from King Piccolo, for a moment of rest, and to help him. But on the other hand, I couldn't afford to arouse suspicion by defying the demon king's orders.

With a heavy heart, I assured Mutaito of my commitment to continue my investigation, to serve as a distraction, and to buy us precious time.

He accepted my decision with a solemn nod before setting off on his own path, leaving me to face the daunting task ahead.

As he set off to rally his allies, I made my way to King Piccolo's side, my heart pounding with the weight of my deception. Weeks passed in a blur of servitude and fear as I continued to play my role as King Piccolo's unwitting pawn.

Each day brought fresh torment and anguish, the weight of my deception threatening to crush me beneath its suffocating grasp.

I felt like going insane if I kept this up...

But as Mutaito finally returned, hope flickered to life within me. By his side stood a young man, tall and formidable, with a bald head and a steely gaze. Mutaito introduced him as Roshi, the only student he had managed to find.

With everything in place and our plan set in motion, we embarked on our journey to confront King Piccolo. As we neared his lair, Mutaito instructed us to hide, and we obeyed without hesitation, ducking behind piles of rubble from the destroyed buildings, my heart pounding in my chest.

Quietly slipping away from my hiding spot, I crept towards a nearby vantage point, my senses alert for any sign of movement. From my new vantage point, I could see King Piccolo approaching outside. As he drew near, I prepared myself in case things went wrong, my resolve to protect Mutaito at all costs.

"Ceasefire and surrender, King Piccolo. Or face the consequences."

Mutaito's voice sliced through the tension like a blade, his words a defiant challenge to the demon king. With a flourish, he placed an object—a rice cooker—on the ground, standing tall and resolute.

In response, King Piccolo's laughter sliced through the tension, a cruel symphony of mockery that reverberated through the air. His grin, a twisted visage adorned with sharp fangs, spoke volumes of his disdain for Mutaito's ultimatum.

"Oh, I prefer to watch you dance," King Piccolo taunted. As tension crackled in the air, Mutaito's body tensed, a coiled spring ready to unleash its power.

With a fluid motion, he raised his arms, hands crackling with a radiant energy. The air hummed with anticipation as he began to channel his power, the luminous glow enveloping his form in a shimmering aura.

Meanwhile, King Piccolo's voice pierced the silence, a sinister command that resonated within the depths of my mind. His orders were clear—to eliminate a human and ensure their demise was wrought with agony. Which was Mutaito.

A surge of defiance surged within me, mingling with the adrenaline coursing through my veins. This was my moment to betray him, to turn the tables on the tyrant who sought to bend me to his will. A bitter smirk twisted my lips.

I emerged from the shadows behind King Piccolo, his attention consumed by the confrontation unfolding before him. With a swift motion, I unleashed a surge of energy, a ki blast hurtling toward King Piccolo with deadly precision.

Surprise flickered in his eyes as he turned to face the unexpected attack, his reflexes barely fast enough to deflect my attack, as he registered what was happening, looking in my direction. His fury was palpable, a tempest of rage that threatened to consume everything in its path.

"You little-!" King Piccolo's voice was a snarl of indignation, cut short by my retort.

"Oh, shut up," I spat, defiance fueling every word as I launched another volley of energy toward him. His movements were swift, evading my onslaught; his fury was noticeable, as he realized the extent of my betrayal. In that moment, I felt a rush of exhilaration—a twisted sense of satisfaction at the sight of King Piccolo's mounting frustration.

I played him like a fucking fiddle.

As Mutaito unleashed his special technique, the Evil Containment Wave, I watched with grim satisfaction as King Piccolo's screams pierced the night sky. I had played him, manipulating his every move to orchestrate his downfall. I watched as his form disappeared into the confines of the rice cooker, sealed away for eternity as Roshi closed the lid.

But victory came at a heavy cost, as Mutaito's strength waned with each passing moment until he collapsed into my arms; his final breaths were his farewells and his final wish to hide King Piccolo in the depths of the sea where no one would find or he would escape.

His life slipped away like grains of sand through an hourglass, and he died in my embrace—a teacher, a mentor, a friend. My heart ached with the weight of his loss, a poignant reminder of the fragility of life and the inevitability of death. His passing served as a stark reminder of my immortality, the weight of outliving those I held dear.

As Roshi cast the rice cooker into the depths of Isuri’s Lake, the final resting place of King Piccolo's lair, a sense of closure washed over me. The world was safe once more, free from the tyranny of a demonic threat.

I don't have to endure his punishments any longer...

The government would be preoccupied with rebuilding, allowing me the chance to have a new life, no more being hunted down... just known as a mere fairy tale and nothing more.

I had hoped for peace, but little did I know that my journey would lead me down a path of tragedy and despair—a road paved with false hope and shattered dreams.

For this is my reality I cannot escape.

•◉◒☆◒◉•

END OF PROLOGUE!!!

Finished: February 19, 2024

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑮𝑼𝑬 — 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑨𝑳 | 4 NEXT CHAPTER: 001 - 𝑯𝑶𝑷𝑬

LINK TO THE BOOK [WATTPAD]: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 — 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚗 𝙱𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 If you're interested in stories like these, here is my 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[merakiui]

i think steampianist's thing really suits kabukimono. the speaker in the song struggles to convey emotions properly and wishes to have certain traits ("hair like yours," "hands like yours," "eyes to stare and to cry with," "fingers that curl in the cold"), which can be read as fervently coveting to look and feel "normal." or, in kabukimono's case, to look and feel human.

like the speaker in the song, kabukimono cannot understand or show certain emotions, and so he learns from those around him (like a sponge absorbing new information) about human life. he hides his true nature as a puppet and learns how to live as a human, but as human as he may act he can never truly be human if the parameters set for what it means to be human are that (1) you must have a heart and (2) your lifespan must be finite (which are parameters kabukimono thinks equals humanity). he has neither of these, which is why he never truly views himself as a human even though you could argue that being "human" simply means you are a complex individual who can feel, think, speak, and articulate (all things kabukimono is capable of).

as the song nears its conclusion, it's implied that the speaker hurt or killed their friends in some way, and you learn that all along this "thing" has wanted companionship and to feel and display emotions properly. but something goes wrong and the result is this eerie line: "struggling only makes the hugs much tighter." both kabukimono and the speaker in the song are driven by their obsessions, and both have bloodied their hands as the result of their circumstances (kabukimono's motivation for murder being revenge and the speaker's most likely being the threat of their friends leaving, so they become determined to make them stay even if it ends in death).

and by the end, the speaker still continues to wish for the traits mentioned above. likewise, kabukimono continues in his travels after sating his hunger for revenge and with "human" traits he has learned and experienced throughout his journey, only to soon step onto the path that leads him to becoming a harbinger once he comes to believe that his "humanity" is a sign of weakness. and so he does away with the things that made him human and starts a new era of his existence (albeit a more violent, cruel one), much like how the speaker in the song will probably continue to search for a way to express themselves in socially acceptable ways.

i think popopo could also fit kabukimono in that it's a song about an alien who travels from planet to planet in hopes of finding a home and a friend, but no one accepts or wants him so he is constantly shunned and lonesome. thus he is a "shooting star sinking in the spacey, black tar" with "hopes and dreams in teardrops," which are lines that fit kabukimono so much!

[itsclydebitches]

Yeah, the Bees vs Adam fight had a lot of iffy dialogue but nothing quite had my head in my hands as much as, "Did she make that promise to you? Or to the person you were pretending to be?" You mean the guy who runs around in a monster mask explicitly because he wanted humanity to fear the Faunus like they do with the unambiguously-evil Grimm was, actually, not a good or mentally-sound person? Shocker. Like say what you want about Adam, but there is nothing subtle about him. From the moment go, he is 100% transparent in who he is and yet the characters acts like he isn't.

Yeah, I think a lot of fans who get frustrated by critiques forget that the disappointment has never been, "Omg they made Adam a bad guy!" but rather, "It's a problem that the minority representing an oppressed group is depicted as the bad guy and also a lot of people are doubly frustrated that his crimes changed from political extremism to stalking a presumed ex." Because you're right, nothing about Adam is subtle. He's introduced in black, red, a creepy mask, and callously shrugs off the potential death of countless humans. He's preeeeetty straightforward.

However, that line still should have made sense by the time we reached that fight because based on everything else we know, Adam wasn't always like this. Blake grew up in a rich, loving family that was at the heart of peaceful activism. AKA she's well-adjusted and primed to question extremist methods. Given that we've seen no manipulation on Adam's part--again, he's straightforward--that heavily implies that Adam was once a far more empathetic, level-headed activist who could legitimately inspire one of our heroes. Someone like Blake isn't going to just randomly join the guy who's just as happy with humanity's destruction as their change in treatment; she's going to join someone who seeks her own goals and reflects her own morals. Sometime between Blake first joining the White Fang and cutting the train cars, Adam changed. This is supported through, again, what we know of Blake as a person, her early Volume comments that the WF wasn't always like this, how Adam steadily grows more and more unhinged as the series goes on--a spiral that began long before the show started and is continuing until his death. Hell, it's shown through Blake having some sort of ~intimate~ relationship with him (mentor or romantic) and doodling him in her notebook. There's a version of Adam that exists pre-RWBY that's the kind of man Blake would befriend, defend, and possibly fall for. Or, to put it another way, make promises to about loyalty and companionship.

But he exists only in the occasional implication, subtext, and the application of some basic logic. RWBY doesn't actually show us this Adam, let alone allow Blake to work through losing him. By the time Yang says, "Did she make that promise to you? Or to the person you were pretending to be?" the audience should understand that no, Adam was never 'pretending.' That person existed... and then he changed. We should read that scene as Yang being wrong, applying a simplistic and no doubt comforting narrative to her friend/teammate/love interest. Blake didn't once love another faunus who fought for an important cause, only to watch him succumb to a violent ideology, resulting in a complicated, emotional landmine where she might still love the man he once was. That's way too complicated to deal with! And makes the bad guy too compelling to boot. So Adam just lied to her. Tricked! Bamboozled! Deceived! Because RWBY can't keep track of its plot-lines, doesn't investigate its heroes bias' (especially Yang's), won't allow those bad guys to have depth and nuance--Ironwood's turn to cartoon villainy highlights that. Adam isn't a subtle character, but as the primary representative of a racism-coded conflict, he should have been. Worse, what little complexity we got was stripped away by the end. Adam isn't a freedom fighter anymore, he dies a deranged ex stalking Blake. Except no, without confirmation of them being in a former relationship, or Yang and Blake having a relationship now, he's just a pathetic guy freaking out over losing her for... reasons. Adam isn't given that sympathetic past, so this conversation doesn't track with past implications and we're just supposed to take Yang at her word (after a Volume where Yang assumes A Lot). Adam isn't a subtle character, yet he's apparently "pretended" to be something he's not for years, tricking Blake and stealing a promise he never had a right to. Too bad we never got that story and what little we did get actively contradicts that.

I know I've said this before, but I don't even like Adam. I have no emotional stake in this fight, yet RWBY's handling of him was such a mess that, same, head in my hands and all that. I'm the one on the sidelines going, "No, I don't actually care, but it's the principal of the thing!" lol

[trigunwritings]

Wait, you like Knives? Dude, he is my favorite! We share a braincell! And with that braincell, please show me some of your headcanons for Knives! Thank you so much.

I do in fact adore knives, he’s just the type of antagonist that makes my brain to brrrrrrr, especially his characterization and motivations from the manga—hopefully Stampede will bring something cool to the table for him! My personal interpretation is a mix of the two for now, but details from the manga are kept vague if needed👌

-

Knives is a complicated individual. A lonely individual. But where Vash hides his pain and anxiety behind a thick facade of humor and light-heartedness, Knives buries it beneath an entire sea of hatred and fear. Humans are wretched, despicable creatures after all in his mind—they have to be, given everything he’s witnessed, everything he’s seen about them. He has to be predator or prey, to use or be used in turn. To him, there is absolutely no alternative; the possibility of being hurt and used and betrayed isn’t worth any joy he might have gotten by being quiet and complacent about the sins he knows humans are capable of.

Where Vash has a savior complex, Knives has a god complex, though they are incredibly more similar than they are different. Both are fueled by fear and loneliness, but shaped differently by the experiences both brothers carry with them from their time as children aboard the SEEDS ship. Knives has to believe himself to be stronger and better than humans, as otherwise there is always a risk that he could be hurt by them, used like a mindless tool for their pure benefit. But at the same time he is so different from his fellow plants—a rarity among rarity—and he craves for some sense of family even if he doesn’t admit it. Even if it’s all pretend. Even if it means he’s playing god to people who still use him, to some degree, for their own gain.

Knives doesn’t like to be touched—he keeps himself at a distance, keeps a literal and metaphorical shield around himself because of that. Humans can never be trusted, even the ones who get on their knees and call him a god. He has to be wary. Lonely. Because of that, the man simultaneously craves for the touch of another being, but fears being hurt by it so much that he’d rather neglect that physiological need.

There was a time when he was younger that he tried to find a semblance of companionship with another plant—just a hug, all he wanted was a hug from a mother who would tell him everything is alright… but it turns out that he can’t even do that. The incident has left him with nightmares to the present day.

Far in the future, Knives does have a dream. A dream that he can one day live without fear and anger, live as a creature not of scientific intrigue and caution, but as just… him. Just another among people like him, ones who don’t look down at him, don’t look up at him, just… see him truly and completely as an equal without the risk humans carry in being such destructive, complicated creatures. He believes, truly, that’s it’s a sin unique to them, as it’s the only way to rationalize all the memories etched deep into his heart.

Deep down, farther than he’d ever admit to even himself, he knows such a dream is impossible; but he dreams anyway, if only to keep away the echos from his distant past—echos of guilt and doubt.

[yanderes-galore]

Master Cheif yandere alphabet please!?

Yes you can have that :) Please do enjoy! This is GAME/BOOK CANON Master Chief, not the Paramount show (I don't like it-)

Yandere Alphabet - Master Chief

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Death, Blood mention, Possible OOC behavior, John doesn't understand complex feelings, Dubious relationship/companionship.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Master Chief, or John as I'll refer to him, is an interesting yandere. Most Spartans like him don't experience obsession like normal humans. They haven't felt such strong emotions and their enhancements usually dampen any sort of romantic desire.

So John ends up coming off as an overprotective guardian. He can't quite figure out how to process how he feels for you. So he does it in the best way he can, fighting for you.

He struggles with affection, an example is when Fernando Esparza hugs him in Halo Infinite. John just... stands there awkwardly. He feels he can show affection towards you by fighting for you, but isn't sure how to reciprocate physical affection.

John can come off as intense as he doesn't entirely... feel human?

He just feels like a force of nature who can't figure out how to show he cares. As a result he can be intimidating.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

John is used to the sight of blood and violence. He doesn't mind getting his armor messy, especially if it is for the greater good. He is primarily violent towards Covenant, Flood, Prometheans, and Banished... but not really humans.

Even if John saw you close with another human and it sparks something in him... he restrains himself. He understands he can't be like you, you're both so different.

Yet part of him yearns to keep you beside himself... for protection.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

John would not kidnap, the closest he gets to it is "relocating" you around UNSC bases. Even then he doesn't mock you, he just explains that it's to protect you.

John is used to caring for others. After all, Blue Team is like family to him. You're no different according to him.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He tries not to, he understands you're happiest with your freedoms. He wants to preserve that.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

John is not vulnerable, even as a child he never let weakness show. He doesn't show much of anything about his true feelings. He just lurks beside you... always attentive to your needs and vulnerabilities.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Due to the strength difference it's more like disciplining a child to him. He just advises you against it and drags you back where he wants you. It's a one-sided conflict.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No and he doesn't (he also doesn't understand why you're trying to leave?).

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

John would never hurt you and he tries not to hurt other humans. However, he'd be ruthless if anything tried to hurt you. So, while this is OOC, maybe when he snaps and attacks a human who pushed you too far.

John realizes he's hit them too hard when blood splatters his armor. He pauses for a moment before ordering medical attention. He doesn't really apologize though.

If he's smart... he waited until others saw the person provoke him.

He doesn't think of a future all too much. He just focuses on now... all he wants to do now is not let you out of his sight.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

If he does he hides it well. He isn't sure how to cope with or understand such an emotion if he even has it. So if he does feel that emotion he just... approaches you and stands there.

It gets the hint across.

Overprotective, Suffocating, Slightly Manipulative, Ruthless towards others. He feels like a guardian more then anything. Even when you show him affection he takes some time in order to mimic it.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

He probably either works alongside you or saved you. Ever since then the Spartan has stuck beside you. You have a strange grasp on him... so he stays beside you.

Aren't you lucky?

Occasionally, but not often.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He wouldn't. He could easily hurt you so he chooses to redirect you instead. That's all I've got.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Tries not to take many.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Very patient.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

It's hard to tell... but maybe he would struggle with it. But he has to move on for the sake of humanity eventually....

He wouldn't forget you though. Never would.

Wouldn't abduct, so this does not apply.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Curiosity and maybe a sense of purpose.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He tries to provide some comfort, but he comes off really cold. Even when he holds you against him... it doesn't feel right.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

SKIPPED.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Nothing I can think of. He means well, so why bother, right?

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Not intentionally/Never.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Would do anything to protect you, but not a worship yandere.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Doesn't really snap so he can "pine" for a long time.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Not intentionally.

[elcoco005]

Is Hürrem & Suleyman's love as beautiful as it seems ?

While watching Magnificent Century, I've found that one of the most complex relationship in the show was the one of Suleyman and Hürrem themselves. In the context of sexual slavery, traumas and the Ottoman Empire their story is too complex to not analyze.

Hurrem arrives to the harem completely traumatized. She's shipped to this foreign land where all of the sudden she has no one and is no one. It's clear from there that her love for Suleyman is some sort of coping mechanism. This relationship allows her to survive and find some meaning in her life and that's the first problem, Suleyman becomes the center of her destroyed world.

That said, Suleyman really does show her some real affection, he listens to her, they laugh a lot and he immediately starts caring about her. Most importantly, he protects her when he learns she's been thrown in the donjons by Valide and for someone who's in such emotional turmoil that's everything.

But even with that, the foundations of their relationship is absolutely not healthy.

If Hürrem angers Suleyman, disobey or annoy him, or even if he just gets bored of her, she's finished. He can kill her, threatened her, torture her or just abandon her like he did to Mahidevran and her and her children's whole future are threatened. In those circumstances what kind of relationship is this ?

I won't even do more than mention the many times he had her exiled and separated from her children because he was angry at her, but I do want to mention the time he made her drink what she believed was poison to "test her". I was convinced when she woke up that it was going to be a point of non-return in their relationship, the moment she realizes how little choice and agency she had in this. I thought this would shake her delusion that this was love, but no. I blame the writing team for this one, it's doing the story a big disservice to never acknowledge how unbalanced Suleyman and Hürrem's relationship is.

This brings me to the question I've had in mind for a while. Since Suleyman is in many ways all the harem women's captor and master, does Hürrem suffer from Stockholm Syndrome ?

I've focused a lot on Hürrem up until this point, but even if Suleyman has the power life has messed him up just as well. His father tried to kill him, he becomes responsible for a whole Empire at the age of 26, the people in his life lies and sometimes even plays him, some wants his power all to themselves and there comes a point where he can never really know who to trust, who's not imagining his death so they can gain more power. As he grow older, he learns the downside of power in the harshest way, it prevents him to trust his loved one. It's horrible.

I think this is why Hürrem's loyalty was so important to him, because in many ways, no matter if it came from a fucked up place she was the only one who was there for him first and foremost. Yes, she enjoyed the power and played her own little games, but it was never against him.

Again, the issue here is that Suleyman's love seem to mostly come from massive trust issues he developed during his whole life, so how legitimate is it ?

Hürrem and Suleyman built a family together, they had children and grandchildren after that, they really started ruling together as they got older, discussed states affairs and compromised and after her death, he was never really quite the same.

But here where it gets really depressing, with all that said the question is not so much if there was affection between Hürrem and Suleyman or not (they clearly cared for each other) but more if what they thought was love was not just them not being able to give up this companionship in this lonely and miserable life they both led ?

And in many ways, isn't that what a lot of humans beings do, decide to stick together so they won't have to face this harsh life alone ?

In the end, is this what love truly is ?

[lilflowerpot]

Ok, so I just read your Q'tskraal post and I know it was was literally posted yesterday, but I have a question. What if a child was disabled enough that they literally could not complete Q'tskraal? Also, how would the Galra in general react to a disabled child? What about a child that was seriously injured by an adult? And finally, do the Galra have an equivalent of neurodivergence, such as autism or adhd?

(cont.) Also, little side note: I was the person who asked if an altean alchemist could create a person, and which lion Lotor would pilot. The reason they were anonymous is because I was too lazy to make a tumblr account until recently lol

-

albinism, melanism, & genetic mutations | PTSD & service animals | mental health & disabilities | galra coming-of-age (Q'tskraal)

So because I'm not sure whether you meant to ask this in terms of physical or mental disability, I'm going to address both while still attempting to keep this answer as short as possible (which, because it's me, is still not especially short rip).

What with the Empire's emphasis on strength as a core cultural value, they've naturally invested a great deal of time and energy into prosthetics, something we see plenty of evidence of in canon—bionic arms for Shiro / Sendak / the Beta Traz Warden, a bionic leg for Ezor (s07), bionic eyes for Sendak (again) / Branko / Ranveig / Janka, and what is seemingly some sort of respiratory apparatus for the Archivist—and considering that this technology is so apparently commonplace in Imperial circles, I imagine that any and all of the Empire's physically disabled children would be offered whatever aids they required long before their Q'tskraal. As I said in my post on albinism/melanism, "Imperial medical science is excellent, and their prosthetics are often superior to the biological counterpart," meaning that there's little reason any child with a disability of this nature would be unable to participate. As for less obviously visible but still physical disabilities, such as chronic pain, I would be inclined to say that the galra, with all their millennia of scientific advancement and quintessence experimentation, have likely found a way to mitigate these conditions if not cure them entirely.

Mental disabilities, however, are quite often more complex and nuanced than their physical counterparts.

In imperial circles, mental health is almost entirely destigmatised; as with everything, there are always exceptions to the rule, but broadly speaking the galra don’t think of poor mental health as any more a show of weakness than, say, a broken limb… it’s simply a medical issue that needs professional treatment and support so that the affected individual may be as happy and healthy as they are able. [...] For things such as PTSD / anxiety / depression / OCD / bipolar / schizophrenia, psychiatric service animals (such as Laika!) are quite common throughout the Empire, and the support and companionship that they provide to their assigned individuals is considered invaluable.

So disabilities of this nature would be taken into account by the organisers of any given Q'tskraal during the planning stage. Said organisers do, of course, ensure they are intimately familiar with which members of the community will be eligible to participate when the time comes, as this ceremony is such an important one, and all pains are taken to ensure that any and all necessary accommodations can be made for all those that might require them (such as designing a Q'tskraal that avoids any individual participant's notable triggers).

Neurodivergence as a whole would, I think, exist in most (if not all) sentient beings across the universe, because brain chemistry is so varied and complex that I fail to see how it could not? To use your examples, the galra likely wouldn't know autsim or adhd by the same names that human do, but I've no doubt they'd have an equivalent! Just as with physical disabilities, every effort would be made to best accommodate any neurodivergent participant's needs as illustrated in the previous paragraph, so that they too may participate on equal footing with the rest of their peers. That being said, these things do exist on a spectrum, and this brings us to the most severe of intellectual disabilities / developmental delays, which I am,,, wary of addressing incorrectly, because I know that infantilisaion is a huge issue faced by the disabled community, so I //obviously// do not wish to add to that in any way. That being said, the purpose of a Q'tskraal is to serve as a marked transition "from the role of protected to protector" which, if an individual's condition were exceedingly severe (ie. the person in question will never mentally progress beyond a certain age, or be able to function independently in any way) is not a role they would be called upon to fulfill. Such a person would instead become known as ghijmiitah—translated from zaalkh to mean "frozen youth" and thought by those who believe in reincarnation to be souls newly born of Sa—remaining a very much loved and cared for dependent throughout their entire lives, and being attended to by the local community as a whole.

As for how imperial citizens would react to a disabled child, I've addressed almost this exact query before—

By virtue of being galra, any given individual would be considered a beloved child of Sa, and there is an inherent and entirely unmatched value in that; the true glory of the Empire is, after all, only as brilliant as the kindness and dignity with which its most vulnerable members are treated.

—and so whether the disability in question is mental or physical, it wouldn't matter! Children are immeasurably precious to the galra, so any half-decent member of the Empire would be nothing less than unfailingly gracious and compassionate, as to do otherwise would be widely viewed as a disgusting breach of etiquette and quite the indictment on the individual's character. To answer your final question, any adult who (deliberately) harmed a child would not only be tried to the fullest extent of the law, but as such a thing goes against the very core values of Imperial culture, they'd also become a social pariah and likely be disowned by their blood-family for their unthinkable actions.

[letshaveadepressionparty]

Gus Gus!! I can't remember if I asked you this or if we've discussed it but I'd love to know or re-learn it again lol.

What's your favorite movie and why? It can be any medium, live action or animated! *but bonus points if it's animated jk hehe...maybe lol*

I'll do you one better, I'll tell you all of my favourite animated movies because honestly I can't pick only one AND SORRY I TOOK TOO LONG TO ANSWER I went completely nuts with this btw.

The Tigger Movie

This movie, this fucking movie, because of this movie and Winnie Pooh in general I love the found family trope. That need of Tigger to find his family, all the others jumping in to help him and then trying to cheer him up, and then him realizing that his family has been there right in front of him all this time, his relationships with Roo and Rabbit mean everything to me, the acting and animation YOU COULD FEEL TIGGER'S SORROW, Tigger is my favourite character and this movie fucked me up emotionally and I love it so much.

Lilo and Stitch

OHANA MEANS FAMILY. FAMILY MEANS NOBODY GETS LEFT BEHIND OR FORGOTTEN. It has aliens, complex but loving family dynamics (with found famiy mixed into it), great fucking music (I knew all the dances) and it's beautiful. I've watched every single bit of media related to Lilo and Stitch, every movie and the tv series, and I love it all, but the first movie is so very special to me. The movie kinda grew up with me in a way, because when I was younger I related a lot with Lilo, but then I started relating so much with Nani, mostly because I'm the oldest sibling. Also Jumba and Pleakley are married I will die on this hill.

The Iron Giant

He wanted to be like Superman and he WAS he really was. I haven't seen this movie in a while now, I should rewatch it, but the friendship the kid and the robot had is something beautiful, and just all the humanity and care and love he experienced, he showed all of that way more than most of the humans from that movie. IT'S ART.

Ice Age

The first one specifically, the second one is really cool too but the others are kinda meh to me. Anyway I had this movie on vhs and I watched it so so many times, I know most of the movie by heart. And hey we have a beautiful found damily dynamic yet again!!! How Manny, Sid and Diego's friendship and companionship evolves as the movie progresses is awesome, Sid is fucking hilarious, Manny is a mood, I had a bit of a crush on Diego I'll be honest, and you really feel for all of them. And Scrat is Scrat, an absolute delight to witness.

The Spongebob movie (the first one ever created)

Just like with Ice Age, I know basically all the dialogue all the songs, I would watch this again and again with my little brother (this time on cd) it never gets old man. No thoughts only SpongeBob.

Over the Hedge

I have the soundtrack for this movie in my playlist, enough said. THIS MOVIE IS EVERYTHING, AND AGAIN FOUND FUCKING FAMILY. I'm realising with this list that I like that trope more than I thought, idk what that says about me. Hammy is my favourite guy, he's my little guy he can do no wrong whatsoever. And Stella the skunk is the character ever we love her in this house.

Shrek (the whole fucking saga)

There's no need for explanation here. Might be one of the best animated movie saga out there let's be honest here. AGAIN I have seen these movies so many times I know everything about them but I still enjoy the absolute fuck out of them.

Aardman Animations

Chicken Run, Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, Flushed Away, The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists!...AMAZING FILMS ALL OF THEM. I know not ALL of them are stop motion/claymation, some are computer animated, but because of these movies (and Laika's of course) my love for this animation medium began, and I could not be more thankful for that.

Monster House

My love for horror increased 100% after this movie, it's funny, it's spooky, it gets sad as hell, it has a great plot twist???? What more do you need.

Laika

Coraline and Kubo and the Two Strings are my favourites from Laika, but all their other movies are gems as well. Coraline, I don't know if I can completely express why I like it, it's a classic and it's so ingrained in myself after so many years, I can't not love it. Kubo and the Two Strings is a movie I watched much recently, last year I think, and I love it so much, the way it's animated is absolutely stunning it's a beautiful piece of art (much like all of Laika's work) and the story and characters are so lovely. Like I said before, seeing Laika's animations, seeing how much work and love is put into these films made me love stop motion so much and inspired me to become an animator.

Meet the Robinsons

THIS MOVIE MAKES ME SOB UNCONTROLLABLY. That part when Lewis sees his bio mom leave him at the orphanage???? The ending???? The message???? FUCK AHHHH. I'm a mess every time I watch this movie. Everything about it is, lovely oh so lovely, the characters we meet, the story, how we put the pieces of the puzzle together as the story goes, Goob kills me man (also he's literally me for real) I just, this movie means a lot to me. "Around here, however, we don't look backwards for very long. We keep moving forward, opening up new doors and doing new things… and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths." Reading that and hearing the ending song absolutely DESTROYS ME.

HONORARY MENTIONS (that everyone should check out btw)

Emperor's New Groove and Kronk's New Groove, Road to el Dorado, Treasure Planet, Monsters Inc, Ponyo (and every other Studio Ghibli movie), Song of the Sea (and all other movies made by Cartoon Saloon because they are top tier, absolutely incredible movies), Megamind, The Lego Batman Movie, Manuelita (argentinian animated movie), every fricking 90s/00s Scooby Doo animated movie, Chicken Little, Brother Bear (the first one, the second one is kinda meh to me personally), Sword in the Stone, Klaus, Bolt, Spiderman into/across the spider-verse movies, Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio, Fantastic Mr. Fox and Isle of Dogs.

[vaedar]

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍: 𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐄𝐒, 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝗒𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝖽𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗆𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗈𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝟣35 𝖡𝖢 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖵𝖺𝗅𝗒𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋; 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐕𝐚𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐬. 𝖡𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖿𝖾𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗅𝗒𝗌𝗆𝗂𝖼 𝖣𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝖵𝖺𝗅𝗒𝗋𝗂𝖺.

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐙𝐄

Azaes is a dragon with dark crimson red scales ( that have a red-orange-gold sheen when in the sun or light ) that shift into a golden color near the areas of his sails, the half of his wings and his belly. His horns, claws and teeth are smooth black, and his eyes are a fiery, molten gold. His flame is orange with veins of dark red that turn almost black.

As for his size, I’m using the above art of Balerion the Black Dread during the Conquest ( which means he was about little over a century old ) by this artist as a reference. By the end of his life, Azaes was 30 years old and was about the size shown above ( he’s the smaller, red dragon ). For perspective, compare him to the size of the horses below ( he could take a whole horse, probably two, whole ). There are a couple of factors that influence the size of a dragon other than their age, such as how free they are to roam and how much they fly ( the more they fly, the faster they grow, and Vaedar and Azaes did not go a day without flying... unless he was physically unable to do so ). Dragons never stop growing, only until the time of their death is imminent.

𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐕𝐀𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐑

Vaedar’s mount was hatched ( being the second youngest of his family’s dragons ) to him when he was a baby, and so his bond with the dragon was nurtured. It only strengthened with the passing of the years, the two being quite close. The first time he mounted the dragon, he was nine years old, using a whip, as was one of the methods for riders to make the winged creatures to obey and follow commands.

But Azaes is a very stubborn, capricious dragon and this only made him angrier, which made him shake Vaedar off, making him fall off and dislocate a shoulder. Azaes would after show his ‘apology’ by ‘inviting’ Vaedar to try again in a challenging way, which he did, even with his hurt shoulder. This was one of the more important bonding experiences for both of them, because little Vaedar understood then that Azaes is not just a mount to be subdued. Azaes also learned more of his rider’s strength, courage and worth, and saw he would indeed want to be by his side and fly with him. The transformation of mount and rider took a deeper meaning then, of companionship and kindred souls. They would become almost as one since then, feeling as the other does, so Vaedar eventually barely had to use any commands to ride Azaes. That connection was so seamless that it definitely made Vaedar a very, very skilled dragon rider, something he was quite proud of.

On more than a few times during interactions, Vaedar has explained to others that Azaes feels as he does, but how he interprets those emotions are not as complex or nuanced as a human might. For example, one occasion he explained that he would need to convey to Azaes that he was married, that he has a wife, and for his dragon to comprehend this better, he would have to feel for that woman as though she were his mate. Dragons can sense distress and fear in humans, but that of their riders they feel as if it were their own. Love, anger, sadness, pain. Those are more raw emotions, primal almost in a sense, and it’s what his dragon understands or translates his emotions into, even if what he really felt was worry or frustration. For Azaes, it might be anger and he could act out on the person that is the recipient of those emotions. This attachment also made the dragon jealous and prone to impulsive violence ( more so if hungry ).  

Once, he almost tried to kill Vaedar’s brother despite knowing him his whole life, because he sensed him as a threat ( which he was not wrong ). This can lead to momentary disobedience on instances when these emotions are too overwhelming, but the strong bond between them enables the rider to subdue the dragon rather quickly ( as long as he, too, can get a hold of himself ).

When dragons outlive their riders, they would wail and weep or release powerful roars of pain during the moment of their rider’s death. This deeper bond is especially ( and very likely, only, possible ) because Azaes hatched to Vaedar as a baby ( rather than the rider claiming him later ), and they grew together… and died together. He could feel his rider’s desperation and pain when they fell from the sky ( pelted by numerous projectiles of volcanic debris ) to the raging sea. Though it was only for a short time, because the dragon died from its wounds before his rider. This means that Vaedar did feel Azaes die, and this can be a rather traumatic experience for the rider who has been bonded since infancy to the dragon. In verses where he was 'cursed' with immortality and survives the Doom, this marked him deeply to the point of considering ending his own life. So during the Doom, Vaedar experienced the emptiness of no longer feeling that bond when his dragon died, before finally drowning himself.